[for Natasha]
It's a nightmare that finds Bucky awake with a start, right hand clawing at the collar of the shirt he wore to sleep, as though he expects there to be something more restrictive than soaked cotton around his neck instead. It's only when his breaths start to even out that he realizes he's off-balance, his body simultaneously heavier than it was a few hours ago, and yet significantly lighter on the one side; his left arm is missing. For a moment, the disorientation of sleep is enough to allow for panic to take hold of him, a mindless fear gripping his chest with an iron fist, but his memories follow shortly after, filling in the blanks he'd forgotten in dreams.
He's back to normal, then. Whatever spell the Island had him under is over as quickly and as suddenly as it started, and he'll blame it on exhaustion that his first instinct is to be disappointed. He should check on Jason, see if he didn't wake the kid up with his yelling, but it's in pulling himself out of bed to do so that Bucky realizes he's not alone in the room. His fingers find purchase around a knife so quickly it might as well have materialized in his hand.
Who the hell would be--
"Tasha."
He's back to normal, then. Whatever spell the Island had him under is over as quickly and as suddenly as it started, and he'll blame it on exhaustion that his first instinct is to be disappointed. He should check on Jason, see if he didn't wake the kid up with his yelling, but it's in pulling himself out of bed to do so that Bucky realizes he's not alone in the room. His fingers find purchase around a knife so quickly it might as well have materialized in his hand.
Who the hell would be--
"Tasha."