'til the end of the line

He still sleeps on the floor.

It isn't something that he's been able to shake, not since his military days. Real beds are too soft, and he could sleep too soundly there, if he managed to fall asleep at all. No, the floor feels more familiar to him, cold wood and a pillow under his head. Always vigilant, even in sleep.

Even though he knows that Darrow is the safest place that he's been in decades, in that no one is after him. He still can't seem to relax in his bed. Or maybe he just doesn't feel like he deserves the luxury of a soft bed and restful sleep, not after all he's done.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, he gives up and pulls on a pair of black joggers and a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, half unzipped with nothing underneath, because who is going to see him anyway? After putting on his sneakers, he grabs his keys and leaves his apartment, feeling too restless to stay in one spot.

He makes his way to the beach, walking along the line where wet sand gives way to dry and listening to the water slap gently at the shore, rushing as it recedes and does it all over again. The rhythm of it is a little soothing, and Bucky takes a deep breath and looks up at the stars as we walks.