Hello everyone! Welcome to the ChristyVerse!

If you're asking, "What the heck is the ChristyVerse?" then I would direct you to my profile, to the story entitled "We Can Be Found." After that, I would direct you toward either "I Dream Things that Never Were (And Ask Why Not)" or "Never Meant For You to Fix Yourself," depending on where your interests lie.

The basic summary of my 'Verse is this: about 5 months after the Battle of Manhattan, all the Avengers are living in the Tower. Steve Rogers adopts a seven-year-old girl named Christy. Life ensues. But to actually understand a lot of these one-shots, you need to go back and read my other stories. Otherwise you'll probably be very confused.

To everyone who has been following my work thus far, welcome to my second one-shot collection!

The title comes from "Safe and Sound," by Taylor Swift. Every time I hear that song, I picture Steve singing it to Christy.

I used my hiatus from posting to actually work on my schoolwork (fun, fun...) but I am currently on Fall Break, which lends me down time to write and post. Thus, this chapter was born.

Basically, this chapter gives me the excuse to write Bucky angst/hurt-comfort. My poor baby... :( It came about based on a throw-away line in "Never Meant..." about Bucky trying to hide his nightmares, but Steve and Sam always finding out. Chronologically, it takes place somewhere between chapters 7 and 8 of that story.

NOTE: (I'm putting this warning at the beginning so I don't have to put it before every chapter) Some of these one-shot's will contain mild profanity. It will always fit a) the character, and b) the situation. I don't swear (as a habit) in real life, so the only reason I include profanity is for the sake of realism. But I will never use s*** or f***, mostly because of personal standards. I hope you understand.

As always, reviews, favorites and follows are much appreciated! Enjoy!

The War Outside Our Door Keeps Ragin' On

Chapter One: Night Terror

They said this would happen…

That was the only coherent thought that could surface in Bucky's brain, as he sat in the corner of his room, biting a pillow to hold back screams.

Since he'd been with Steve, nightmares hadn't really occurred, at least not with any strength. But Bruce had warned him that the more time passed, the more his memories started to break through; the more nightmares he would have.

Tonight had been bad. But Bucky refused to scream, or yell, or cry out.

If I scream, I'll wake up Steve and Sam and they need sleep and the kid'll be scared and then…

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the images that flashed like taunting ghosts in his mind's eye.

Hands roughly pulling him down a hall, screaming in…Russian? German? He didn't know. The scene shifted to a room, where a man in a suit sat calmly while his brain scrabbled to understand what was going on…and then the scene morphed to another cell, where he sat still in a corner while blood dripped down his body…

There was pain. Always pain.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind…"

"Fist of HYDRA…"

"Assassin. Killer. Gun."

"Slave…" True, nobody had ever called him this, but he wasn't stupid. That was essentially what he had been.

"You will never escape us…"

And suddenly, Bucky couldn't hold back anymore.

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, completely confused as to what had woken him up.

And then he heard the screaming.

"Ah, no…"

In less than half a second, he had scrambled out of bed and stumbled out into Steve's room.

Steve was out like a light. Feeling both thankful and guilty, Sam leaned over and shook his shoulder.

"Steve, wake up. Wake up, it's Bucky. He's having a nightmare."

At the word 'Bucky,' Steve's eyes shot open in a way that would have been almost comical, if it wasn't for the situation.

"No…" he mumbled, rolling out of bed. He dashed over to the door of his friend's room.

Somehow, Steve managed not to charge in like the world was ending. But the sight that greeted his eyes was like his worst nightmare.

Bucky sat in the corner, hunched into an upright fetal position, his eyes shut and his face split in a look of terrified anguish. He was no longer screaming, but that didn't give Steve any comfort.

He would rather hear a scream from Bucky, as opposed to dead silence.

Sam hung back by the door, ready to provide any back up as necessary.

Almost crashing to his knees, Steve pulled himself slightly closer.

"Bucky?" he tried, pitching his voice loud enough to carry, but not to startle. "Bucky, come back. Where are you? It's Steve, we're in Avenger's Tower, you're safe, and I need you to come back to me."

Still breathing heavily, Bucky's eyes slowly slid open and took in Steve's scrunched-down form.

"No…" he moaned.

"It's alright, pal, nobody's gonna hurt ya…" Steve whispered soothingly.

They'd have to get through me first!

Bucky still looked troubled. "I-I…I w-woke y-you u-up. W-wasn't t-tryin' to…p-please…I didn't mean to, please…"

Steve frowned. "It's alright, I don't mind. I knew you were gonna have nightmares, anyway…"

Bucky shook his head, kept up the litany of begging. "Please, I didn't mean it, I tried to be quiet, please, don't hurt me…"

Like a sudden cold front, Steve could feel all the blood in his veins turn to ice.

Don't hurt me…

He wanted to scream, cry, kick, punch—anything.

But that would solve nothing.

So instead, he shook his head and tapped Bucky's arm. "Look at me, pal. Look at me."

Slowly, Bucky lifted his head. He couldn't quite manage eye contact, but it was close enough.

"I will never hurt you. And I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you again. On the…" Steve felt his throat choke up. "On the Hellicarier…pal, when I had to fight you…I thought I'd die. That fight was the worst thing I've ever done. I would never let it happen again."

Steve's calm, anguished words slowly worked through Bucky like medicine.

Of course Steve wouldn't hurt him. Of course…

The blind panic that had been pounding his heart was replaced by something like shame.

How could I ever think…!

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "Sorry…you're nothing like them. Sorry…"

And suddenly, he was surrounded by arms that were strong and warm and safe, and it was so good…

"It's alright…" Steve whispered. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm not offended. You had a bad dream, and woke up scared; of course you were still thinking about them. But you're safe, understand?"

"They said I'd never escape them…" Bucky mumbled. "Maybe they're right…"

Steve gave a gentle snort. "Maybe they're right? Buck, you already escaped. You already got away. You're only gonna get better."

"But they're still in my dreams…they're still there. And I can't get away…"

"Yeah you can." Steve said firmly. "You can wake up. And when you wake up, come and find me. Or I'll already be there. Either way…you won't be alone."

"B-but what if I wake you…?"

"I do not care." Steve said, enunciating every word with careful precision. "I don't care if this happens every night for the rest of my life, I will get up and stay with you."

Bucky raised his head up and managed, trembling, to look into Steve's face.

"Why?" he whispered.

I'm not worth it…

Steve sighed. "'Cause I promised. 'Cause you're my brother, and I love you. And because you're worth it."

Bucky frowned at Steve's apparent mind-reading. "I'm not. I'm…I'm just a gun. A broken gun."

No you are not! Steve wanted to scream, but instead, he just brushed a strand of unruly hair out of Bucky's face.

"You're my friend." he corrected gently. "Every night you weren't here, I felt like I was missing something. Someone. Now, you're back, and I'll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

A small, almost feral smile crept across Steve's face. "If anyone wants you back…they're gonna have to fight me."

The sound of the microwave running drifted into the room.

Steve looked over. "What the…"

Gently lifting Bucky up and moving him over to the bed, Steve looked out the door of the room, to see Sam doing something in the kitchen.

Frowning, he stepped out into the living area. "Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam shrugged. "Takin' a page out of the kid's book. This is for him." he held out a steaming mug that smelled like….

"Hot chocolate?"

"He's had it, he likes it, and he has a good, recent memory associated with it." Sam replied. "'Sides, if I know anything about nightmares, he's not gonna get back to sleep any time soon, and neither will we, so I figured we should just embrace the whole 'awake at two in the morning' deal."

Despite the situation, Steve managed a smile. "Thanks, Sam…" he said, raw gratefulness slipping into his tone. "I dunno what…"

Sam shook his head. "Don't mention it. We've all got scars. Some scars just run a little deeper." He jerked his head at the mug. "Go give that to him."

"Steve?"

Steve and Sam both whipped their heads over to see Bucky standing in the living room, blinking unsteadily into the dimmed lights.

"C'mon and sit down, pal." Steve said. "And try to drink this."

Bucky frowned as he did so. "M-medicine?"

"Chocolate." Sam replied, grinning.

Bucky's eyes brightened immediately and his hands instinctively reached up. He quickly moved them down again. "Sorry…"

Assets don't get things…except guns.

Steve sighed. "No 'sorrys,' Buck. This is for you." He reached over and set the mug into Bucky's hands. Bucky stared at it…and then took a sip. His eyes shot wide, like he'd just tasted the elixir of life.

Sam moved over to the couch with two more mugs and handed one to Steve. For a moment, all three men sat in silence, sipping the drinks.

"Who needs alcohol, anyway?" Sam muttered. "I forgot how fantastic this stuff was."

Steve gave a wan smile. "Don't tell Tony, or else he'll buy up all the cocoa powder in New York."

"Nah, Tony'll import fancy chocolate powder from France or something." Sam joked, glad his attempt to lighten the mood seemed to be working.

Bucky looked over. "Th-the kid'll be mad we drank this without her."

Steve looked worried…until he realized that this was Bucky's attempt at a joke. He'd been getting better at making them recently.

He snorted. "What Christy doesn't know won't hurt her."

"I-is this gonna go on forever?" Bucky whispered.

Sam sighed. "What? The you having nightmares part or the us drinking hot chocolate at two in the morning part?"

"The me having n-nightmares part…"

"Not forever. Not this bad forever." Steve said firmly. "It'll get better, I swear." He glanced at Sam, with a 'please back me up on this' look.

Sam nodded. "He's right. They'll be slowly less horrible. But right now, they're bad because they're all coming to the surface for the first time." He reached across Steve and touched Bucky's shoulder.

"You come get one of us, next time, understand? I don't care what time it is, you come wake us up, either of us. I had all kinds of weird hours in the military, and I've had calls from patients at crazy hours, so nothing surprises me. You hear me?"

Bucky nodded. "Just…didn't wanna wake you guys up. I didn't know how…" He looked down into the mug, shame clouding his face.

Steve frowned. "Didn't know how to do what, Bucky?"

Something in Sam's eyes suddenly cleared. "Ah. You didn't know how to ask for help. Is that it?"

Bucky nodded again. "I couldn't…before. And…before before, in Brooklyn…I don't think I liked it."

Steve snorted. "No, you never did, jerk. You couldn't ask for help if your life depended on it."

"I had to be…strong. For you. For…others."

Steve sighed. "You don't have to be strong now, pal. Look…just think of this as me paying you back all the times you took care of me. We're gonna be even for once!" He smiled softly. "Let me have this, please. I never got to be the strong one."

Bucky looked a tiny bit disgruntled, but managed a nod. "Okay." Pain slipped back onto his face. "I couldn't ask, with…them. Wasn't allowed to make noise, except on missions. Wasn't allowed to…" he sighed. "Guns don't talk."

"But people do." Sam said. "So talk all you want. Cry, scream…whatever."

"And if you want something, for God's sake, tell me!" Steve cried. "I don't care how silly or small you think it is, I wanna know!"

Steve's face was so earnestly serious, that Bucky knew he couldn't possibly be lying.

And he wouldn't lie to me…

He had learned a lot of things since D.C. But the most important thing he'd learned was that at all costs, he could trust Steve Rogers.

Bucky bit his lip. It was time for a test. He held out his mug.

Bracing himself, he asked, "More?"

Steve's face went from shock to a smile that could outshine the sun. "Sure, pal. Whatever you want."

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief as Steve went into the kitchen.

The voices of his nightmares were loud. But now, he had a voice to throw back at them.

If anybody wants you…they're gonna have to fight me…

For a brief moment, he allowed the images of earlier to come back to his head. But the scenes were different now.

This time, Steve was there, in full Captain America regalia. This time, Steve burst down the door of whatever cell he was in, pulled him to his feet, handed him a weapon to fight back with.

This time, he wasn't alone.

And their battle cry was the same.

Fight me…

Ah, Bucky...and Steve, and Sam. I love writing those three interacting.

This chapter was also inspired by a song called "Night Terror," by Laura Marling, especially by the line, "I'll run back and shake him tightly...and scream, if they want him, oh, they're gonna have to fight me..." which, to me, just screams Steve and Bucky. Look it up, it's a really good song.

Next post should be sometime this weekend. I wanted to get at least two one-shots written before my break is over.

Reviews are wonderful things...