[The idea of traveling with someone else isn't an idea she's been particularly comfortable with, but for some reason it's not as bad with Bucky. Her powers aren't quite as much of a threat as they were back when she was still at the SHIELD Academy, she has more control, but it's not always perfect control. Not when she had nightmares, anyway. It means that she sleeps as infrequently as she can manage, and that when she does it's fitful. But sometimes it happens anyway.
They're in a safehouse, quiet, out in the industrial district, the sort of place where people don't look twice. She sleeps mostly quietly, low, indistinct murmurs, slight tosses of her head, occasional jerks of her shoulders. When she wakes, it's with a start, a moment where she's all glowing blue eyes that can't see the room around her. The dream was full of screaming, fingers on a gun, triggers in her head and faces, and she's fighting to catch her breath. It was close-- too close. That way she can all but feel the power humming under her skin. When she sits up it's fast and sudden, eyes scanning the room like she's looking for a threat, an attacker, something to fight.
But it's just him. Bucky. He's awake, almost like he's watching over her, and it's enough. Pulls her from the things that haunt her.
She breathes then, rakes fingers through her red hair, strands sticking to her left cheek as she tries to control herself. Get her heart rate down before she turns their little bolthole into a fire hazard. Sometimes, she wonders if he realizes just how dangerous she is. If even she does. She's not safe. Too many questions, not enough answers.]
...You're awake.
[She's not quite back to herself, and that statement is soft, maybe a little lonely, maybe glad for it. That she's not alone as she slips from under the blanket to grab a bottle of water.]
For Bucky
They're in a safehouse, quiet, out in the industrial district, the sort of place where people don't look twice. She sleeps mostly quietly, low, indistinct murmurs, slight tosses of her head, occasional jerks of her shoulders. When she wakes, it's with a start, a moment where she's all glowing blue eyes that can't see the room around her. The dream was full of screaming, fingers on a gun, triggers in her head and faces, and she's fighting to catch her breath. It was close-- too close. That way she can all but feel the power humming under her skin. When she sits up it's fast and sudden, eyes scanning the room like she's looking for a threat, an attacker, something to fight.
But it's just him. Bucky. He's awake, almost like he's watching over her, and it's enough. Pulls her from the things that haunt her.
She breathes then, rakes fingers through her red hair, strands sticking to her left cheek as she tries to control herself. Get her heart rate down before she turns their little bolthole into a fire hazard. Sometimes, she wonders if he realizes just how dangerous she is. If even she does. She's not safe. Too many questions, not enough answers.]
...You're awake.
[She's not quite back to herself, and that statement is soft, maybe a little lonely, maybe glad for it. That she's not alone as she slips from under the blanket to grab a bottle of water.]