Hard times were for him. Nightmares upon nightmares upon insecurities. His friends tried to help him, but nothing would really help. Maybe they could stop the bleeding, put a bandage on it. But sooner or later the bandage has to be changed, it has to be removed. And it's precisely in those seconds that it's hard not to travel away with your mind to dark places, places that no one would like to remember. Because how long can one bear this pain?

You. 11 years old, a kid who had a rough life. Filled with violence, beatings, too much pain for an 11-year-old girl. Bucky saw himself in you, which is why you'd been living with him for two weeks now. It was hard not to take a step back and turn your head when he raised his hand. You had nightmares, but you tried to be... happy. Maybe that's why he admired you, because despite everything, you'd found the strength to move on. And him? Had he made it? Had he disappointed himself?

Is there really light at the end of the tunnel?

He loved you. He listened to you. He was gentle, almost as if he were afraid of breaking you. Maybe it was fate, maybe you two were the light between you both. For him, biological or not, you were his daughter.