bulletproof

21

A/N *This is so shitty, I'm so sorry, I got a huge author's block in writing this chapter (idk why) and I've delayed my posting this up and omg. Anyways...yeah...that's all. I'm really sorry about this piece of crap of writing. I'm so annoyed about it.

ANYWAYS, I hope you have a fabulous holiday!  ❤️*

Y/N couldn't breathe. He was talking to her. The Soldat. She swallowed back a scream of horror and licked her lips, her mouth dry, "Yes...We...We've met." Her voice was shaky and Steve squeezed her hand in comfort. 

He stared into her eyes, his guarded blue ones piercing through her, turning her fear of him into sympathy and pity. Her heart ached at the hurt, confused look about him.

"I..." He frowned, which could mean that he was trying to recall something about her, but she wasn't sure what. Or if that was actually what he was doing, "You were younger then."

Her heart skipped a beat, "I was..." Her voice was starting to shake with apprehension and she felt like she was treading on thin ice with every word. 

His face contorted with pain and she took a step back, her other hand clutching Steve's arm. Y/N manoeuvred herself so that she was hidden behind Steve, peeking around at Bucky, who was now clutching his head and wincing.

"Buck? You okay?" Steve asked, concern weighing on his words. He took a tentative step forward but the man in front of him raised a hand to stop him.

"I'm okay." 

Bucky gasped as agony dug its claws into him, memories flashing left and right in his mind's eye. His brain felt like it was melting from pain and he had to hold back a scream, scared to alarm the woman in front of him. 

All he could see was her dancing. He'd been forced to watch a little girl dance until she couldn't dance anymore as a part of his mind control...maybe. He wasn't sure. One thing he could remember was that if he didn't obey, they'd shoot the little dancing girl in the head in the middle of one of her leaps.

 He remembered how serene and happy she was when dancing. He remembered seeing how her eyes closed and her face lit up the moment the music started and she went up on her tiptoes. She acted like she wasn't being forced to do this until she would pass out from fatigue. It seemed like she flew through the air, her limbs were so fluid in motion. 

"Y/N Y/L/N." The scream of her name sped through his lips as an avalanche of torture crashed down on him, making his eyes water and get lightheaded.

She visibly stiffened at the mention of her name and he almost sagged with relief at the ability to remember her name. At least he got it right. At least he remembered. 

"That's right." Her voice came out as a squeak and in any other situation, it would have been an amusing noise, but right now, at this moment, it wasn't the slightest bit humorous.

"How do you know her, Buck?" The Man on the Bridge...no, Steve, asked, his forehead creasing with curiosity and anxiety. Bucky noticed the grip Steve had on Y/N's hand like he was scared of him. 

Bucky's mouth curled into a half-smile, though the memory was nice, though it wasn't, "She was the little dancing girl."

"What?" It was Steve's question that made him realise that he'd answered in Russian. Or maybe it was the sharp intake of breath coming from Y/N. 

"She was 'the little dancing girl'." He repeated, this time in English. The throbbing sensations in his head had been replaced with an icy numbing, "The next Romanoff."