D’s ✨

Masterlist

Updated 08/10/26

ACT I — THE END OF ONE LIFE

The world survived Thanos. You aren't sure you did.

Chapter 1 — Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart

Chapter 2 — Five Seconds

Chapter 3 — The Weight of a Symbol

ACT II — LEARNING HOW TO LIVE

Working beside Bucky Barnes was never supposed to become personal.

Chapter 4 — Old Wounds

Chapter 5 — The Devil You Know

Chapter 6 — Masks

Chapter 7 — The Ghosts of Who We Were

ACT III — A Place at the Table

Some people don't save you all at once. They simply refuse to leave.

Chapter 8 — Quiet Places

Chapter 9 — Debts

Chapter 10 — Breaking Points

Chapter 11 — Home Isn't a Place

Chapter 12 — A Couple of Guys

Chapter 13 — Captain America

Chapter 14 — The Things We Don't Say

ACT IV — HOME

Some endings aren't endings at all. Sometimes...they're the beginning.

Chapter 15 — Strangers Again

Chapter 16 — The Call

Chapter 17 — No Turning Back

Chapter 18 — Someone Worth Saving

Chapter 19 — The Things We Bury

Chapter 20 — The Long Way Home

Author's Note

Welcome to Among Thieves. 🤍

This is an original character (OC) story set within the MCU, told primarily in second-person POV.bucky

The protagonist is Tony Stark's younger sister and Steve Rogers' former fiancée, following her journey alongside Bucky Barnes after the events of Avengers: Endgame.

If you enjoy slow burns, mutual healing, found family, longing, and a healthy dose of 1940s Bucky Barnes charm, I hope you'll feel right at home here.

The tower was quieter than it had any right to be.

Not because it wasn't occupied.

Quite the opposite.

Someone had somehow found an old sectional couch and dragged it into the middle of the destroyed living room. Pizza boxes covered the coffee table. Walker was arguing with Alexei over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. Ava had disappeared into one of the bedrooms without explanation. Bob sat cross-legged on the floor trying to figure out the streaming services while Yelena repeatedly stole slices off his plate.

It was loud. Chaotic. Alive.

You smiled before disappearing upstairs.

Twenty minutes later, you stepped back into the living room wearing one of Tony's old MIT sweatshirts and a pair of lounge shorts you'd somehow found tucked away in one of the closets.

Home clothes. Real clothes. Not armor. Not suits. Not expectations.

Nobody even looked up.

"—Dibs on the shower!"

"Too late," Walker called. "I've already got towels."

"You used all the hot water!"

"I earned it," you shot back.

Walker gasped dramatically. "Traitor."

You laughed to yourself, grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and wandered toward the terrace.

Bucky was exactly where you expected him to be.

Hands resting against the railing. Shoulders finally relaxed. The city stretched endlessly before him, lights scattered beneath the night sky.

He didn't turn when you stepped outside. "I was wondering how long it'd take."

You smiled. "You knew I'd come out here?"

"I heard the fridge."

You stopped. "You heard the fridge."

"You close it too hard."

"...That's ridiculous."

"It is." A beat. "You still close it too hard."

You rolled your eyes as you took your place beside him. "I hate that your super-soldier hearing makes you right."

"It has its moments."

His eyes flickered toward you. Then down. Then back toward the skyline.

You narrowed your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"James."

His mouth twitched. "Just didn't think Tony Stark's little sister owned anything that wasn't black, expensive, or bulletproof."

You looked down at the oversized MIT sweatshirt. "This was Tony's."

Bucky glanced at it again. Something softened in his expression. "Looks better on you."

You blinked.

He took a sip from his water like he hadn't said anything at all.

"...Was that a compliment?"

"No."

"That was absolutely a compliment."

"I was making an observation."

"Right."

Bucky finally looked at you, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Can't help what I notice, doll."

There it was. That old-fashioned confidence that had started appearing more and more lately.

Not quite the Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn that Steve used to tell you about. But closer.

You looked away before he could catch your smile.

The city shimmered below. For a while, neither of you spoke.

"So." Bucky finally nodded toward the tower behind you. "This is where you grew up?"

You leaned against the railing. "Not exactly."

He looked over.

"This place came later. When I was just a kid..." You smiled softly. "Tony and I moved to California. The ocean. The smell of salt. The worst traffic imaginable."

Bucky nodded thoughtfully.

"My bedroom overlooked..." He squinted dramatically, as though searching his memory. "...another apartment building."

You laughed. "So glamorous."

"I know. Ladies couldn't resist."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"I was Brooklyn's most eligible man."

"I somehow don't doubt that."

That made him look over. Actually surprised.

You shrugged. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You were expecting me to argue?"

"Maybe."

"You danced. You had the hair."

Bucky frowned. "I have the same hair."

"You absolutely do not have the same hair."

"I have hair."

"That's not the same thing."

He shook his head. "You would've liked it."

"The hair?"

"Brooklyn."

Your smile softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His gaze lingered on you. "Would've taken you dancing."

You blinked.

Bucky looked back toward the skyline as if he'd just commented on the weather.

"You would've?"

"Sure."

"You're assuming I would've said yes."

That got his attention. Slowly, Bucky turned his head toward you. There was something almost boyish in the smile that spread across his face.

"No, doll." He leaned an elbow against the railing. "I'm assuming I would've convinced you."

You stared at him. There he was. Not the Winter Soldier. Not Sergeant Barnes. Not the congressman. Bucky.

The twenty-something troublemaker from Brooklyn who apparently used to walk into dance halls like the world belonged to him.

Your eyebrows lifted. "That's confident."

"I had game."

You burst out laughing. His grin widened.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"You cannot say I had game with a straight face."

"I did."

"According to who?"

"Steve."

"Steve couldn't talk to women."

"Exactly. Made me look fantastic."

You laughed harder, shaking your head.

Bucky watched you. And slowly, his own laughter faded into something quieter. Something softer.

Behind the glass, muffled voices echoed through the tower. Someone shouted that Bob wasn't allowed to order another pizza. Bob insisted he should. Alexei loudly supported him.

You glanced over your shoulder. "They're going to destroy this place."

Bucky followed your gaze. The broken furniture. The pizza boxes. The mismatched blankets. Yelena stealing another slice. Walker swatting her hand away. Alexei shouting something neither of you could understand.

Then Bucky looked back at you. "...I think they'll save it."

Your smile faded into something gentler. You followed his gaze.

For so long, this tower had been a monument to everything you'd lost. Tony. Natasha. Steve. The Avengers. Your family.

But now—Someone was laughing inside it again.

"...Yeah," you whispered. "I think you're right."

Silence settled between you again. Comfortable. Easy. Until—

"You know..." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "There's still something I never told you."

You immediately groaned. "Oh no."

He laughed. "What?"

"Every time you start a sentence like that..." You pointed accusingly at him. "...my life changes."

A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. "...Fair."

You folded your arms. "Still keeping secrets, Barnes?"

"I know." He sighed. "I'm trying to get out of the habit."

"So?" You raised an eyebrow. "You gonna tell me?"

Instead, he looked at you. Really looked.

His expression changed. "There it is."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"That smile."

You blinked. "What about it?"

"I missed it."

The teasing disappeared from your face. "I didn't realize..."

"I did."

His answer came so quickly that you stopped.

Bucky shrugged, suddenly interested in the water bottle between his hands. "I notice." His eyes returned to yours. "That and your laugh."

"My laugh?"

"You laugh differently depending on who's around."

You stared at him.

"When you're nervous..." His eyes remained on yours. "...it's quieter."

Your lips parted.

"When you're pretending you're fine, you barely laugh at all." A tiny smile crossed his face. "But when you're actually happy..." He paused. "You throw your whole head back."

Your chest tightened.

"You forget anyone's watching." His voice grew quieter. "I've missed hearing that."

You swallowed. "...Stop."

"I'm serious."

"You make me sound like a science project."

"You kind of are."

You nudged his shoulder. "Rude."

He smiled. "I prefer observant."

"You've been spending too much time with me."

"...Probably." His shoulder brushed yours.

Neither of you moved away. Another comfortable silence settled between you.

Then you tilted your head. "Can I ask you something?"

"You usually do."

"Walker."

His eyebrow lifted immediately. "What about him?"

You smiled knowingly. "He told me something."

Bucky's expression became suspicious. "Oh?"

"He said..." You watched his face carefully. "...you were getting awfully protective of me."

His eyes immediately returned to the skyline. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You practically pulled me away from him."

"I caught you."

"You also glared at him."

"He was standing there."

"He was helping me."

"I know."

You smiled wider. "So..."

Bucky sighed.

"...What was that?"

He stayed quiet. Long enough that you thought he might actually dodge the question. Finally—

"I just..." His hand went to the back of his neck. "...liked knowing you were with me."

You blinked. "With you?"

He nodded once. "It was easier."

"Easier?"

"I knew where you were."

You stared at him. "So this was about logistics?"

He looked almost offended. "...No."

You fought back another smile. "So what was it about?"

Bucky laughed quietly and shook his head. "You really don't let things go."

"I learned from the best."

His eyes found yours again. Then he smiled. "...Yeah. You did."

Another pause. Then his expression shifted. "When Walker grabbed you..." His jaw tightened slightly. "...I didn't like it."

You tilted your head. "Why?"

"I don't know."

The answer was honest. Almost frustratingly so.

"I just..." He shrugged. "...wanted to be the one making sure you were okay."

The words hung between you. Bucky seemed to realize what he'd admitted about half a second too late.

Your smile became impossibly gentle. "You know..." You stepped a little closer. "I can usually take care of myself."

"I know."

"So why?"

His eyes met yours. For a moment, something almost shy passed through them. Then—

"Old habits."

You smiled. "The forties?"

"The forties."

"So opening doors...Giving me your jacket. The blanket."

His eyes narrowed. "...Mhm."

"You insisting I ride with you."

A sigh. "...Yeah."

"Standing between me and literally every possible threat."

"That's practical."

"James."

"It's practical."

"And glaring at Walker."

"I wasn't glaring."

"You were glaring."

"I was observing."

You laughed so hard you had to look away.

Bucky smiled. "There it is."

You turned back toward him. "What?"

"That laugh."

Your laughter immediately died. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe."

Your eyes narrowed. "You stole my line."

"I say it better."

"Oh?"

"I think so."

You shook your head. "...You're impossible."

"No." His smile deepened. "I'm old-fashioned."

"That's what you're calling it?"

"Worked pretty well in '43."

"Did it?"

"Very."

"Brooklyn's most eligible man?"

"You remembered."

"Unfortunately."

Bucky grinned.

You folded your arms. "I always wondered something."

"What?"

"Back there..." You nodded toward the city. "...when Walker said, 'I'm not stealing your girl.'"

The effect was immediate. Bucky looked away. The tips of his ears betrayed him. Your smile turned wicked.

"...What girl?"

"Don't." You laughed. "I thought you noticed everything."

"I do."

"So?"

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

He shook his head, but you could see the smile threatening his mouth.

"Come on, Barnes."

"You're trouble."

"According to Brooklyn's most eligible man?"

His eyes slid toward you. "You would've been."

You blinked. "What?"

"Trouble."

There was a different look in his eyes now. Warm. Intentional.

"You would've walked into one of those dance halls and ruined my whole night."

You stared at him. "Ruined it?"

"Wouldn't have been able to look at anybody else."

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. Bucky's smile grew. Apparently, he liked that.

"...James."

"What?"

"Are you flirting with me?"

He pretended to consider it. "No."

You stared.

"I'm making an observation."

You shoved his shoulder. He laughed. Actually laughed.

"Asshole."

"Watch your mouth, doll."

"Oh my God." You shook your head, but your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Then Bucky's expression softened again. "But Walker..."

You looked at him.

He exhaled. "When he said that..." His fingers tapped absently against the railing. "I should've corrected him."

Your smile faded slightly.

"But I didn't."

"Why?"

Bucky looked at you. This time, he didn't hide behind a joke.

"Because I liked having you with me."

Silence.

"I still do."

Your heart skipped. He stepped just a little closer. Not enough to touch. Enough that you noticed. Enough that he knew you noticed. You stared at him, suddenly unable to speak.

Bucky laughed softly. "I guess that's my very long way of answering Walker."

Your voice finally returned. "So..." You smiled. "...you weren't being territorial?"

That familiar confidence returned to his face. The kind you'd only seen in flashes before. The ghost of the man Steve had spent years telling you about.

Bucky leaned slightly closer. "Oh, doll..."

Your breath caught.

A slow grin spread across his face. "I absolutely was."

You stared at him.

"But not because I thought Walker was gonna steal you." He shook his head. "I know John." Another step. Barely anything. But suddenly there wasn't much space between you at all.

"I was worried..." His eyes dropped briefly to your lips. Then returned to yours. "...you might not realize I'd already gotten used to having you by my side."

Your heartbeat stumbled. "That's dangerously close to admitting something, Barnes."

"I know."

"And here I thought you were trying to get out of the habit."

His brow furrowed. "What habit?"

"Keeping secrets."

For a moment, he simply stared at you. Then something settled in his expression. Decision.

Bucky reached out. His fingers caught lightly against the hem of Tony's sweatshirt, barely touching you as he tugged you one step closer.

"You really wanna know?"

You swallowed. "I asked, didn't I?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"And you avoid most of them."

"Not this one." His voice had dropped.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Behind him, New York glittered beneath the night sky. Behind you, your strange, impossible new family argued over pizza.

And Bucky Barnes stood in front of you looking more certain than you'd seen him in years.

"I liked knowing you were with me," he said again. "I liked walking into a room and knowing you'd be somewhere behind me making some smart-ass comment."

You smiled.

"I liked knowing when I turned around, you'd be there."

Your smile slowly disappeared.

"And somewhere along the way..." His thumb brushed once against the fabric at your waist. "...I stopped checking."

Your brows pulled together. "Why?"

Bucky smiled. Small. Certain. "Because I knew you would be."

Your chest tightened. "James..."

"And for the record?"

"What?"

His eyes flickered over your face. That Brooklyn charm returned in full force. "I would've gotten that dance."

You stared at him. "In 1943?"

"Mhm."

"Still very confident."

"Doll, I've had eighty years to think about my technique."

You burst out laughing. Bucky grinned. Then his expression softened as he watched you throw your head back. Exactly like he'd said.

"There."

You caught your breath. "There what?"

He looked at you like there wasn't another person in the entire tower. "That's the one."

Your smile softened. "The laugh?"

"My favorite."

And somehow, that was the line that left you speechless. Your heart had never beaten louder. Bucky seemed to realize what he'd said at the exact same moment you did. His eyes flickered away, suddenly fascinated by the skyline.

You couldn't help it. You smiled.

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Doll."

You laughed softly. "You finally admitted it."

His mouth twitched. "Suppose I did."

"You've been flirting with me this whole time."

"No." He gave a tiny shake of his head. "I've been trying to."

You stared at him. "Well..."

His eyebrows lifted.

"You've been succeeding."

That made him laugh. A real one. Warm and unguarded and so unmistakably him that your chest ached. The kind of laugh you'd fallen in love with before you'd ever been brave enough to call what you felt love.

Then, slowly, his smile faded. Not completely. Just enough for something more vulnerable to take its place.

"You know..."

You waited.

"You stopped calling me James."

Your smile softened. Your eyes drifted toward the city. "I did."

"Why?"

You thought about it. Really thought about it.

"At first..." You rubbed your thumb against the edge of your water bottle. "Calling you Bucky felt wrong."

His brow furrowed.

"It belonged to Steve. Sam. People who'd known you forever. People who knew you before everything happened." You shrugged slightly. "I didn't."

Bucky watched you quietly.

"So I called you James."

"And now?"

You looked at him. Now, the answer came easily.

"Now Bucky feels like it's mine too."

Something shifted in his expression.

Your voice softened. "Not mine mine."

His mouth twitched. "Careful."

You rolled your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do."

"It doesn't feel like I'm borrowing somebody else's name for you anymore." You swallowed. "Bucky is just...you."

His eyes never left yours.

"And somewhere along the way..." Your smile trembled. "It started feeling like home."

Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second. Like he'd needed to hear it far more than either of you had realized. When he opened them again, there was something different there. Something decided.

"Doll..." His voice barely carried over the wind. "If I don't say this now..." He laughed nervously through his nose. "...I'm gonna spend the rest of my life finding excuses not to."

Your heart immediately began pounding. "Bucky—"

"I've spent most of my life believing everybody I loved eventually left."

You went still.

"My parents. Steve..." His eyes dropped. "...myself." A humorless laugh escaped him. "I especially got good at leaving myself."

Your chest tightened.

"For a long time, it was easier that way. Didn't have to figure out who I was if I kept letting everybody else decide for me." He looked at you. "Hydra decided I was a weapon. Steve decided I was worth saving. The government decided whether I was dangerous. People decided whether I was a hero or a murderer or some sad story they could put in a headline."

His jaw tightened. "And then you showed up." A tiny smile appeared. "You sat next to me on a plane. You argued with me. You called me an idiot."

"You were being one."

"Repeatedly."

"I stand by it."

That earned a quiet laugh from him. "Yeah. You usually do." His thumb rubbed absently against the railing. "But you never tried to decide who I was."

Your smile faded.

"You just..." He searched for the words. "...looked at me." His eyes found yours. "Like I was a man."

Your throat tightened.

"Not a mission. Not Steve's responsibility. Not Hydra's weapon. Not the Winter Soldier." His voice became quieter. "Just Bucky."

Your eyes burned.

"I don't know when it happened." He smiled faintly. "Maybe Louisiana. Maybe Madripoor. Maybe that damn plane when you stole my blanket."

Your mouth fell open. "You gave me the blanket."

"Details."

"Bucky."

"Fine. I gave you the blanket."

"You practically threw it at me."

"I was nervous."

That stopped you. His eyebrows lifted as if the admission surprised him too.

"...You were nervous?"

"There was a beautiful woman sitting next to me at two in the morning asking personal questions."

Your lips parted.

Bucky shrugged. "I'm old, doll. Not dead."

You laughed despite the tears gathering in your eyes.

His smile softened. "So maybe it was then." He looked down at his hands. "Or maybe it was the first time I realized I kept wanting to give you my jacket."

Your eyebrows lifted.

"Or when I started noticing every time you skipped lunch. Or when you answered emails instead of sleeping."

You winced.

"Or when every room I walked into..." His eyes returned to yours. "...the first person I looked for was you."

Your breath caught.

"I kept telling myself it was Steve."

Your smile disappeared. Bucky's did too.

"That Steve would've wanted me to look out for you. That maybe I owed him that much."

Your gaze dropped toward your hands. Toward the place where another man's ring had once rested. For years, you'd thought loving someone meant building your life around the possibility that they would stay. Tony had taught you that sometimes people left because they had no choice. Steve had taught you that sometimes they did.

But Bucky—Bucky had taught you something else entirely. That someone could know every reason to leave, and choose to stay anyway.

"I loved Steve."

Bucky didn't move. "I know."

"I think part of me always will."

Something flickered across his face. Not jealousy. Never jealousy. Understanding. His eyes lowered anyway. Before he could retreat, you reached for him.

Your fingers slipped between his. His flesh hand tightened around yours almost instinctively.

"But I don't love you because you remind me of him."

Bucky looked up.

"You don't." The words came easier than you expected. "You never did."

His expression softened.

"I loved Steve because he was Steve." Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. "And I love you because you're you."

Bucky stopped breathing. You were almost certain of it. Something in his expression broke. Not painfully. Like a lock finally giving way. Like some part of him that had spent decades bracing for rejection had finally forgotten how.

"And for the record..." Your voice trembled despite your smile. "You don't owe Steve anything when it comes to me."

A quiet breath left him.

"I wondered about it for a long time."

His brow furrowed.

"If you stayed because you felt guilty. Because of what happened with my parents. Because Steve asked you to look out for me. After you finally told me the truth, I wondered if every kind thing you ever did was because you thought you owed him."

His face fell.

"But then I watched you." You squeezed his hand. "You kept choosing me. Every mission. Every room. Every stupid argument. Every sunrise." Your voice cracked. "You stayed."

Bucky's grip tightened around yours.

"And nobody..." You swallowed around the ache in your throat. "...has ever kept choosing me like that."

"Doll..."

"So no." You shook your head. "Steve doesn't get credit for this."

Bucky stared at you. Then—A tiny smile. "...Turns out Steve doesn't get credit for everything."

You laughed through the tears gathering in your eyes. "He'd hate hearing that."

"He'd survive."

"He always did."

A silence passed between you. Not uncomfortable. Not uncertain. Just full.

Then Bucky looked down at your joined hands. "I liked taking care of you."

The sentence landed somewhere deep inside your chest. His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles. "I still do."

"Bucky—"

"Not because I think you need it." His eyes lifted. "I know damn well you can take care of yourself." A faint grin tugged at his mouth. "I've seen you punch super soldiers."

"Twice."

"Yeah, well. Both times were terrifying."

You laughed softly.

"I've seen you outsmart senators. I've watched you walk into rooms full of people who wanted you to fail and somehow leave with every single one of them listening." He stepped closer. "So no." His voice softened. "I never thought you needed me."

Your heart squeezed.

"I just..."

For the first time, Bucky Barnes looked almost shy.

"...liked being the one who got to do it."

You blinked.

"The one carrying the heavy boxes even though you complained you could carry them yourself. The one opening your door. The one reminding you to drink water."

"Annoying."

"You never drink enough."

"Still annoying."

"The one making sure you weren't cold."

"The blanket again?"

"The blanket was a good move."

You laughed. "It was."

His smile grew. "See?"

"You were still weird about it."

"I hadn't courted a woman since Roosevelt was president. Cut me some slack."

You stared at him. Then burst out laughing. Bucky grinned.

"Which Roosevelt?"

His face fell. "Don't ruin this."

You laughed harder. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I'm really not."

He shook his head, smiling. And when the laughter faded, his expression became serious again. "I don't know what tomorrow looks like."

You stilled.

"I spent too much of my life pretending I did." He took another step. "But I know this." His voice steadied. "I don't wake up wondering how Congress is doing."

You smiled faintly.

"I wake up wondering whether your meeting went alright."

Your chest tightened.

"I don't care what the headlines say about me." His eyes held yours. "I care whether you smiled that day."

"Bucky..."

"When the Void swallowed us..."

The memory stole the smile from your face.

"I wasn't looking for the mission." His fingers tightened around yours. "I was looking for you."

Your breath caught.

"I wasn't scared of dying." His voice broke, barely. "I was scared you'd think I left."

Everything inside you stopped. Bucky swallowed. "That you'd think I chose to."

Your eyes burned.

"And somewhere in all of that..." His thumb brushed across the back of your hand. "...I finally realized something."

You waited.

"I'm not staying because Steve would've wanted me to."

One final step. Barely inches separated you now.

"I'm staying because I want to." His eyes searched yours. "Because every morning I wake up hoping I get another day with you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky noticed immediately. Of course he did. His flesh hand lifted slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You didn't. His thumb caught the tear before it reached your jaw.

"So..." A smile slowly appeared. Warm. Confident. Just a little crooked. Unmistakably Bucky Barnes. "If you'll have me..."

Your heart hammered.

"...I'd very much like to spend however many years I've got left courting you properly."

A laugh broke through your tears. "...Courting?"

His eyebrows lifted. "I was born in 1917."

"I know."

"I'm committed to the bit. I open doors. I carry groceries."

"You do."

"I've been told I'm an excellent dancer."

You narrowed your eyes. "By who?"

"Women."

"What women?"

His grin widened. "Oh, now who's territorial?"

Your mouth fell open. "Bucky Barnes."

He laughed. You shoved his chest lightly. "I haven't even seen you dance."

"You've been missing out."

"I'm sure."

"And..." He straightened slightly. "I clean up pretty nice."

You looked him over deliberately.

His eyebrow lifted. "Pretty nice?"

You pretended to consider it. "Debatable."

"Doll."

You laughed. "You walked into that one."

"I was trying to be charming."

"You were succeeding until you asked for reassurance."

"I wasn't asking."

"You were fishing."

"There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Absolutely."

You shook your head, unable to stop smiling. Bucky watched you. And that look returned. Soft. Wondering. Like after everything, he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed to have this. Allowed to have you.

You stepped closer. Your free hand settled against his chest. Bucky went very still.

"For years..." you whispered, "...I thought love was something that happened to me."

His brow furrowed.

"Someone loved me. Someone left me. Someone chose something else." Your fingers curled slightly into his shirt. "But you..." Your voice trembled. "You just kept showing up."

His hand settled carefully against your waist.

"You never asked me to forget Steve. You never asked me to stop grieving Tony. You never tried to fix any of it." You looked up at him. "You just stayed long enough for me to realize I didn't have to keep waiting for everybody to leave."

His eyes glistened.

"So..." You rose onto your toes. Your forehead rested gently against his. His eyes closed. A trembling smile spread across your face. "I choose you too."

Bucky exhaled. It sounded almost like relief. His forehead pressed more firmly against yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you laughed quietly. "...Besides."

His eyes opened. His eyebrows lifted.

"I've gotten rather attached to my old-fashioned gentleman."

The smile that spread across Bucky's face was immediate. "Oh?"

"Mhm."

His hand moved a fraction farther around your waist.

"I was hoping he'd stick around."

Bucky's eyes softened. Then that crooked, devastating smile returned. "Well, doll..." He pulled you just slightly closer. "...good luck getting rid of him now."

He leaned in just enough that his nose brushed yours. Neither of you moved. Neither of you needed to.

Bucky looked at you like he was trying to memorize you. Every freckle. Every tear. Every tiny shift in your expression. Like after all the years he'd spent losing pieces of his life, he'd finally found something he wanted to remember exactly as it was.

His thumb brushed once against your cheek. Then, "...Can I kiss you?"

The question came so quietly it almost disappeared into the wind. Your heart melted. Even now.

After everything you'd just confessed to each other. After his hand had settled around your waist. After you'd practically told him you wanted whatever years he had left, he still asked.

You smiled. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I've been trying to be a gentleman."

"You've been painfully slow."

He laughed under his breath. "I know."

"So..." You tilted your head. "...are you going to kiss me?"

His smile widened. "I was getting there."

"You've had three years."

"I know."

"I've been very patient."

"So have I."

Your eyebrows lifted. "Oh, have you?"

"Doll."

That one word came with enough warning that you laughed. Another heartbeat passed. Then—Both of you moved. At exactly the same time. The distance disappeared.

His lips met yours gently. Almost cautiously. Not hesitant. Careful. Like even now, some part of him was making sure you had every opportunity to change your mind.

You didn't. Instead, you smiled against his mouth. And that tiny smile seemed to break whatever restraint Bucky Barnes had left. His flesh hand slid fully against your cheek, fingers disappearing into your hair as his thumb brushed away the tear you'd forgotten was there. His vibranium arm settled around your waist. Careful despite its strength. Drawing you closer until your body rested against his. Not because he thought you might disappear. Not because he was afraid you'd leave. Because, for the first time, he knew you wouldn't.

The kiss deepened. Slowly. Unhurried. Warm. There was no desperation in it. No attempt to make up for lost time. Just Bucky. Just you. And every year of grief, guilt, longing, almosts, and what ifs quietly dissolving beneath something impossibly simple. Home.

Your hand slid from his chest to the back of his neck. Bucky exhaled softly against your lips. The sound nearly ruined you.

When you finally pulled apart, neither of you went far. Your foreheads rested together. Noses brushing. His hand remained at your waist. Yours remained curled behind his neck. And both of you were smiling far too much to pretend this was anything less than what it was.

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. You just stood there. Breathing. Laughing softly because apparently neither of you knew what else to do with this much happiness.

Finally, you looked up at him. "So..."

Bucky immediately narrowed his eyes. "No."

You blinked innocently. "I haven't said anything."

"I know that look."

"What look?"

"That one."

Your grin became unmistakably mischievous. "For a hundred-and-eleven-year-old man..."

Bucky closed his eyes.

"...you kiss surprisingly well."

An exaggerated groan left him. "There she is."

"What?"

"The menace." He opened one eye. "I was worried she'd disappeared."

You gasped dramatically. "I've been pouring my heart out to you for the last fifteen minutes."

"And then immediately started making fun of me."

"I couldn't let you get too confident."

His eyes softened. His smile became impossibly fond. "Doll, I was confident before your parents were born."

Your mouth fell open. "Oh, fuck you."

Bucky laughed. There it was again. That easy Brooklyn swagger. The one Steve had always described. Except now you finally understood exactly why half the women in 1943 had apparently found him irresistible.

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. "I absolutely adore the menace."

Your expression softened. "Adore?"

"Mhm."

"That's a pretty big word, Barnes."

"I know a few." Then he leaned down and stole another kiss. Short. Sweet. Entirely because he could.

You barely had time to react before he pulled away wearing the most self-satisfied expression you'd ever seen on his face. Your eyebrows lifted. "Oh, you're enjoying this."

"Very much."

"Two kisses and suddenly Brooklyn Bucky is back."

His grin widened. "You haven't seen anything yet."

You stared at him. He stared back. Then—

"...Was that a threat?"

"A promise."

Your mouth opened. Bucky laughed at your expression.

"Bucky Barnes."

"What?"

"You can't just start saying things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because you've spent three years acting like eye contact was emotionally compromising."

He laughed so hard he had to look away. "I was going through some things."

"Clearly."

When he looked back, his arm was still around your waist. Not that you minded. You settled more comfortably against him.

"You know..." His smile softened. "I've been wanting to do that for a while."

You raised an eyebrow. "How long?"

He pretended to think. "...Louisiana."

Your eyes narrowed. "Bucky."

His mouth twitched. "...Fine."

You waited. "The plane."

Your jaw dropped. "The blanket?"

"Mhm."

"You wanted to kiss me then?"

"I wanted to do a lot of things then."

You stared at him.

Bucky froze. A beat. Then his eyes widened slightly. "...That came out wrong."

You burst out laughing. "No, no. Please." You waved a hand. "Continue."

"I meant—"

"What kind of things, Sergeant Barnes?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Immensely."

He shook his head. "I wanted to kiss you."

Your teasing softened. "Really?"

"Really."

"You were flirting then?"

"I was trying to."

You laughed. "I thought you didn't know you were flirting."

"I didn't."

You blinked. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"It does to me."

"So when did you figure it out?"

Bucky's smile slowly returned. "When you kept flirting back."

Your eyebrows shot upward. "I did not."

"You did."

"I was being nice."

"Doll..." He chuckled. "You called me handsome."

"I said your haircut looked better."

"You stared."

"I observed."

"You blushed."

"I was warm."

Bucky laughed so hard he had to turn away.

You pointed at him. "That plane was stuffy."

"It was freezing." He argued.

"You gave me a blanket."

"Exactly."

"That proves nothing."

"It proves you were cold."

"It proves you were staring at me enough to notice."

Bucky paused.

You smiled triumphantly. "Got you."

Slowly, he looked back at you. That crooked grin returned. "I already told you."

"What?"

"I notice."

Your triumph disappeared immediately. "Oh."

His smile widened. "Yeah."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were already warm. "You've spent too much time around me."

"I've spent exactly enough."

The words came out before you could think about them. Bucky's smile softened. So did yours. Then something quieter settled between you.

You looked down at your joined hands. "I hate that we lost three years."

Bucky went still. When you looked back up, he was watching you. Really watching you. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No."

Your brows furrowed. "No?"

"We didn't lose them."

"Bucky..."

"We needed them."

You fell silent.

His fingers intertwined more tightly with yours. "I know that's not the romantic answer." A faint smile touched his mouth. "But three years ago?" He exhaled. "I wouldn't have known how to do this."

Your expression softened.

"I barely knew how to sit in a room with people without wondering whether I belonged there." His thumb moved slowly over yours. "And you..." He hesitated.

"You were still waiting for Steve to come back in ways you didn't even realize."

Your eyes dropped.

He squeezed your hand. "That's not a criticism."

"I know."

"We were both somewhere else."

You looked at him again.

Bucky smiled. "Maybe we had to take the long way."

Your throat tightened. "So you don't wish we'd figured it out sooner?"

His gaze softened. "Doll, I would've spent those three years wanting you and finding every excuse in the book not to tell you."

You laughed quietly through the ache in your chest.

"Probably would've handed you another dozen jackets. At least."

"More blankets?" You smiled.

"Obviously."

"Opened every door?"

"I have standards." He stated quickly.

You smiled.

Bucky stepped closer again. "But now..." His expression grew serious. "I know why I'm here."

Your eyes burned.

"And I know why you're here." He lifted your joined hands slightly between you. "Turns out I don't have to spend the rest of my life wondering what would've happened." His smile returned. "I get to spend it finding out."

Another tear slipped free. Bucky caught this one too.

"You really are a romantic."

"I've been trying to tell you that."

"You hide it well."

"Had a reputation to protect."

You smiled. "I like this version better."

His expression softened. "So do I."

For a moment, you simply looked at each other.

Then the sound of something crashing inside made both of you turn. Through the glass doors, Bob had somehow convinced Alexei to sing. Loudly. Very loudly. Walker sat on the couch with the expression of a man reevaluating every decision that had brought him to this exact moment. Yelena was doubled over laughing. Ava had apparently returned solely to complain about Alexei's song selection.

Bucky stared through the glass. "...Is he singing Sinatra?"

You listened. "No." A beat. "...He's trying."

Bucky grimaced. "That's worse."

You laughed. He looked back at you. And for the first time since you'd known him, Bucky Barnes looked completely at peace. Not fixed. Not healed of every scar. Just—Happy.

His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles. "You know..."

"What?"

His eyes moved from the chaos inside the tower back to you. "I think we were just taking the long way home."

Your chest tightened. You smiled. "Yeah."

You glanced through the glass at the impossible collection of people currently destroying what remained of Tony Stark's living room. Then back at the man holding your hand. "I think we were."

Bucky smiled. Then he leaned down again, and this time, you met him halfway. His mouth had barely brushed yours when, the terrace door slid open.

Yelena leaned halfway outside. "...Are you two finished being disgustingly adorable?"

You jumped apart on instinct. "We weren't—"

"Kissing?" she deadpanned.

You opened your mouth. Yelena looked at Bucky. Then at you. Then at Bucky's arm still very obviously wrapped around your waist. A beat.

"...You were."

Bucky didn't even bother moving it. You glanced at him. He looked almost smug. Traitor.

From somewhere inside the penthouse, Walker's voice carried across the room. "I told you he'd confess first!"

Your eyes widened.

Bucky's head snapped toward the doorway. "You were betting on us?"

"I never agreed to a bet," Ava called from somewhere near the couch.

"You absolutely did."

"I said there was a sixty-forty probability."

"That's a bet."

"That is statistics."

Alexei suddenly appeared over Yelena's shoulder, somehow managing to look triumphant despite holding half a slice of pizza. "I witnessed romance!"

Yelena closed her eyes. "Nobody asked you."

"I also witnessed almost-kiss in alley."

Your head whipped toward him. "...You what?"

Alexei nodded proudly. "I have excellent peripheral vision."

Walker barked out a laugh from inside. "No, you don't."

Alexei considered this. "I have selective peripheral vision."

You stared at him in horror. Bucky broke first. A laugh escaped him. Then another. Until he was actually laughing beside you, head dipping, shoulders shaking slightly. Easy. Unrestrained. Happy.

You looked at him. And despite the fact that half the room had apparently spent hours monitoring your romantic incompetence, you smiled too.

Yelena's expression softened as she looked between the two of you. "...It's about time."

Bucky's laughter quieted. You looked at her. There was no teasing in her face now. Just something warm. Knowing.

Then, naturally, she ruined it. "We ordered cinnamon knots."

You blinked. "What?"

"They're getting cold."

Yelena slid the door wider. "If you two are going to begin some ancient courtship ritual, do it after dessert."

Bucky frowned. "It's not ancient."

Yelena looked at him. "You were born before sliced bread."

You covered your mouth.

Bucky stared at her. "Technically—"

"No." She disappeared back inside.

You turned slowly toward him. "Before sliced bread?"

"Don't."

A laugh escaped you.

"Doll."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I'm really not."

Bucky shook his head, but he was smiling.

Behind him, warmth spilled through the open doorway. Music drifted through the ruined penthouse, tangled with laughter, clinking glasses, and Alexei loudly insisting that since nobody appreciated Sinatra, he should be permitted to choose the next song.

"No!" several voices shouted at once.

You smiled.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Bucky looked through the doorway. At Bob sitting on the floor. At Ava pretending she wasn't listening to whatever argument Walker had dragged her into. At Yelena stealing another piece of food that clearly wasn't hers. At Alexei singing anyway.

Then his gaze moved around the tower itself. The broken walls. The damaged floors. The remnants of something that used to belong to another life. Another team. Another family.

His thumb brushed slowly across the back of your hand. "You know..."

You looked at him.

Bucky's eyes remained on the room. "I spent a long time thinking home was something I'd already lost."

Your smile faded.

His fingers tightened slightly around yours. "Brooklyn. My family. Steve." His gaze dropped. "Who I was before." Then he looked at you. "I kept thinking if I went far enough back, maybe I'd find it."

Your chest tightened. "So did I."

His expression softened. You looked past him into the tower.

For years, you'd done the same thing. Tony. Natasha. Steve. The Avengers. Your childhood. Every room you'd once walked into without wondering who might be missing the next time you returned.

You'd spent so much time trying to get back to something that no longer existed that you hadn't noticed something new quietly forming around you.

Bucky followed your gaze. Then smiled. "We were wrong."

You looked toward the people waiting inside. Bob. Yelena. Alexei. Ava. Walker, currently demanding that someone acknowledge he'd been right about something for once.

People neither of you would've chosen. People who probably wouldn't have chosen each other. Not at first. And yet, somehow, here you all were. Not teammates. Not coworkers. Not even simply friends anymore. Family. Chosen. Messy. Complicated. Loud. Real.

Your fingers tightened around Bucky's. "So..." A teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are we keeping them waiting, Congressman Barnes?"

His eyebrow lifted. "Oh?"

"I hear punctuality matters in politics."

Bucky stepped closer. "Does it?"

"So I've been told."

His hand found your waist again. "I've got something more important to campaign for now."

You stared at him. Your cheeks immediately warmed. "...Was that one of your terrible lines?"

His grin appeared. Slow. Confident. Effortless.

And suddenly you understood every photograph you'd ever seen of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes leaning against cars and grinning like he knew precisely what effect he had on people.

"I've waited three years." He dipped his head closer. "I've earned at least one."

You smiled. "You've earned more than one."

His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth. "Careful, doll."

"Why?"

"Keep encouraging me and you're gonna find out exactly how many lines I've got left."

Your eyebrows rose. "There he is."

"Who?"

"Brooklyn's most eligible man."

Bucky laughed quietly. "Thought you didn't believe me."

"I believe you now."

His expression turned unbearably pleased. "Good."

Then he kissed you again. Not hurried. Not desperate. No hesitation this time. Just one soft, certain kiss because he wanted to, and because now he knew he could.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. His thumb brushed once against your waist. "...Ready?"

You looked past him. At the open door. At the people waiting inside. At the strange, ridiculous life neither of you had dared imagine for yourselves.

Then you looked back into the blue-gray eyes of the man who had quietly become your favorite place in the world. You smiled.

"Lead the way."

Something flickered across Bucky's expression. Amusement. Fondness. Maybe memory. Then, like he'd done outside the courthouse a few days ago, he offered you his hand.

You looked down at it. The flesh one. The hand that had opened doors. Carried your things. Offered you blankets. Steadied you when you stumbled. Reached for you before either of you understood why.

The first time he'd offered it, you hadn't known where either of you were going. Neither had he. This time, you did.

You slipped your fingers between his. Bucky looked down at your joined hands. Then smiled quietly to himself.

Together, you walked inside.

Walker noticed immediately. "Oh, come on!"

You blinked. "What?"

He pointed accusingly at your hands. "You're holding hands now too?"

Bucky looked down. Then back at Walker. "Seems that way."

Walker threw both hands up. "Twenty dollars."

Ava scoffed. "There was no formal agreement."

"There was absolutely an agreement."

"You cannot enforce an implied wager."

"That is not how betting works."

Bob looked between them. "...Should I get more cinnamon knots?"

"Yes," Yelena answered immediately.

"No," Ava said.

"Yes," Alexei declared. "Tonight is celebration of love."

Bucky groaned. "Please don't call it that."

Alexei ignored him. "And because James Barnes finally behaves like man instead of sad old cat hiding underneath porch."

You choked. Walker doubled over laughing. Even Ava turned away to hide a smile.

Bucky stared at Alexei. "A sad old what?"

"Cat."

"I heard you."

"Then why ask?"

You covered your face, laughing.

Bucky looked at you. "You're supposed to be on my side now."

You lowered your hands. "Is that part of the agreement?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't remember signing anything."

His eyes narrowed. "You wanna renegotiate?"

Your smile turned mischievous. "Maybe."

Bucky leaned closer. "Careful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that another promise?"

His mouth curved. "Could be."

"Can you two stop?" Walker groaned. "This is already unbearable."

Yelena handed him a cinnamon knot. "Eat your feelings."

Walker took it. "Thank you."

Bucky laughed beside you. And something about the sound made you stop. Just for a second.

You looked around the room. Pizza boxes. Half-empty glasses. Someone's jacket thrown across the back of the couch. Bob explaining something to Ava with far too much enthusiasm. Walker still arguing about twenty dollars. Alexei attempting Sinatra again. Yelena threatening bodily harm if he didn't stop.

Nothing about it was elegant. Nothing about it resembled the Avengers you'd grown up knowing.

Tony would've complained about the furniture. Natasha would've stolen Yelena's seat just to annoy her. Steve probably would've tried to mediate until everyone told him to shut up.

The thought didn't hurt the way you expected it to. For once, remembering what you'd lost didn't make what you had feel smaller. It made you appreciate it more.

Beside you, Bucky grew quiet too. You looked at him. He was staring around the room. At the laughter. The noise. The people crowding around the same table. Then his gaze dropped to your hand. Still intertwined with his.

For decades, Bucky Barnes had searched for redemption. For years, you'd searched for answers. Neither of you had realized you'd been searching for the same thing. Not forgiveness. Not the past. Not some impossible version of yourselves untouched by everything that had happened.

Just somewhere you didn't have to earn the right to stay. A place at the table. A hand reaching for yours. Someone who noticed when you walked into the room. Someone who would notice if you didn't. A place to leave from, knowing you could come back. Home.

You rested your head against Bucky's shoulder. He looked down at you. You smiled. His expression softened. Then, without saying a word, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His arm settled around you.

Easy. Natural. Like he'd been doing it forever.

Across the room, Yelena noticed. She smiled. For once, she didn't say anything.

Bucky glanced down at you. "You okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

And you were. Really.

You looked around the tower one last time. At the life that had grown inside the ruins of the old one. Then at Bucky. He squeezed your hand. You squeezed back.

For the first time in years, neither of you wondered who might leave. Neither of you looked backward. Neither of you searched for what came next. You were already there. Together.

Home.

Tags: @draincleaner0

Author's Note: Guys, I genuinely cannot believe we've made it to the end. I absolutely adored writing this story and spending so much time with these characters (and, if it wasn't painfully obvious by now, I am a massive sucker for Bucky Barnes).

Thank you so much to everyone who read, followed along, left comments, or simply gave this story a chance. Getting to write this slow burn, from all the lingering looks, shared blankets, borrowed jackets, and almost-confessions to finally watching these two choose each other, has been so much fun, and I'm honestly a little sad to let them go.

But we're not completely done yet! Stay tuned for an epilogue inspired by the Avengers: Doomsday trailers/end-credit teases involving the New Avengers. 👀

And if you'd like to see more of Bucky after this story- little blurbs, domestic moments, one-shots, or even stories featuring other Marvel characters- please let me know! I'd love to keep writing in this universe.

Alexei's scream echoed through the ruined streets. "YELENA!"

It was raw. Animal. The kind of sound that came from someone watching their family disappear for the second time.

Before he could run after her, Bucky and Walker grabbed him from opposite sides.

"No!" Alexei fought against them with surprising strength. "She's in there!"

"There is nothing you can do!" Walker shouted over the chaos.

Another wave of darkness rolled across the avenue. People vanished where they stood.

Bucky tightened his grip on Alexei's arm. "We have to move."

Alexei kept struggling. "She's my daughter!"

"I know." Bucky’s voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. "I know."

For one terrible second, Alexei stopped fighting. Only because he recognized the look on Bucky’s face. He'd seen it before. Someone who knew exactly what it felt like to lose everyone.

Bucky looked toward you. 

You were already helping civilians into the subway entrance, your voice calm despite everything happening around you. "This way! Keep moving! No running. We're okay."

The reassurance wasn't for yourself. It never was.

Bucky watched you for only a heartbeat before helping Alexei toward the tunnel.

The light subway tunnels were crowded with the last civilians. Silence settled over the station. Not true silence. Children cried. Someone prayed quietly. A man sat with his head in his hands. Nobody knew whether the city still existed above them.

Dust floated lazily through the stale underground air. Everyone tried to catch their breath. No one really could.

Walker paced. Ava leaned against a concrete pillar, staring at nothing. Alexei hadn't moved since sitting down.  His elbows rested on his knees. His hands covered his face. No one knew what to say to him.

Finally, Ava broke the silence. "I'm going after her."

Bucky looked up immediately. "And then what?"

His voice was calm. Not dismissive. Just exhausted.

Ava met his stare. "If Yelena walked into that thing..." She swallowed. "...she had a reason."

Bucky's jaw tightened. "What if she's dead?"

No one answered.

"What if there’s no coming back?"

The words hung heavily in the station.

You looked from Bucky to Ava. "And..." you asked quietly, "...what if there is? What if she isn’t?"

His eyes found yours immediately. "How do you know that?"

"I don't." You shook your head. "I don’t know Yelena that well. But I know enough." You looked toward the subway stairs leading back to the darkness. "She wouldn't walk toward something like that unless she believed in something. In someone."

Silence.

Walker suddenly stopped pacing. "...Wait." Everyone turned. "I think..." He rubbed a hand across his face. "...I think they might actually be right."

Bucky frowned. "What do you mean?"

Walker stared at the floor for several long seconds before speaking. "When I was back in the vault..." He hesitated. "I saw something." His voice sounded smaller somehow. "I went somewhere." He struggled to explain it. "I can’t explain it, but--"

Alexei slowly lowered his hands. "What happened?"

Walker swallowed. "I saw Lemar."

The station grew even quieter. "He was alive." A bitter laugh escaped him. "We were talking like nothing had ever happened." His eyes drifted somewhere far away. "And then..." His voice cracked. "I watched him die again."

Nobody interrupted. 

"I couldn't stop it." He clenched his fists. "Then I was home." "My son was there." His breathing became uneven. "Olivia was there." Another pause. "They looked at me...like they were afraid of me."

He laughed once. There wasn't any humor in it. "It wasn't real. But it felt real."

He looked around at everyone. "I've been shot. Blown up. Thrown through buildings. I've never been more scared than I was in there."

No one spoke. Because every person standing in that subway station knew exactly what he meant.

Bucky looked down at his own hands. The Winter Soldier. Hydra. Seventy years of nightmares.

If Walker's experience was only a glimpse, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what waited for him.

You quietly pieced it together. "It isn't attacking our bodies."

Everyone looked toward you. 

"It's attacking our guilt." Your voice remained steady. "Our grief. The things we never healed from."

You thought about Tony. About Steve. About your parents. Natasha. Everything you'd buried beneath years of work. The realization settled heavily inside you.

"It doesn't need to beat us. It just needs us to believe we deserve to lose."

No one argued. Bucky slowly turned toward you. There it was again. That look.

Not asking for permission. Not asking you to decide for him. Just looking for you. Looking for the person whose judgment he trusted most.

He didn't even realize he'd started doing it. You met his eyes. 

You already knew what he was asking. Is this a fight we can win?

You answered without words. A single nod. Small. Certain.

If Yelena was still in there, you were going after her. No matter what waited inside.

Bucky let out a slow breath. His shoulders settled. Decision made. 

He looked around at the others. "We're going in."

No speeches. No dramatic declaration. Just four words.

Walker nodded first. "So we do this together."

Ava pushed herself off the pillar. "I'm in."

Alexei stood immediately. "I don't care what's in there." His eyes burned with determination. "I'm bringing my daughter home."

Bucky looked toward you one last time. For the first time since Louisiana, he reached for your hand. Not romantically. Not even consciously. Just instinct.

His fingers wrapped briefly around yours. Warm. Steady.

"I'm not letting you get lost in there."

Your thumb squeezed the back of his hand once. A silent promise. "You won't."

Neither of you realized, you were no longer talking about the Void.

The darkness swallowed Yelena whole. For a heartbeat, there was nothing. No city. No screams. No collapsing buildings. Only silence. Then, light seeped through the cracks. She blinked.

Instead, she stood inside a cramped attic bedroom. Dust floated lazily through thin beams of afternoon sunlight that leaked through a tiny circular window. Cardboard boxes towered against every wall, stacked so high they nearly reached the slanted ceiling. Old toys. Torn books. Clothes folded into forgotten piles. It didn't feel abandoned.

It felt paused. Like someone had simply stopped living here.

Yelena turned slowly. "...Bob?"

A quiet voice answered from the corner. "Hi."

He sat on the floor beside an old bed, knees pulled tightly against his chest. No yellow suit. No cape. No glowing eyes. Just Bob. Hair messy. Sweatshirt hanging loosely from his shoulders. Looking impossibly small.

Yelena exhaled slowly, “I just want to talk, okay?”

“About what?” He asked so innocently. 

“About the stuff we spoke about in the vault.”

Bob looked at her as he smiled, “What’s up?”

Yelena let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Um..." she said carefully. "...not much." She glanced around the room. "Just watching New York disappear into a big maze of interconnected shame rooms."

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. "You ever seen anything this crazy before?"

Bob stared at the floor. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"That you’ll stop"

His shoulders slumped. "Oh..." His voice barely carried. "It's not me." He shook his head. "Not... me, me." "It's..." He searched for the words. "...the Void."

His fingers tightened around his sleeves. "I have these good days." He smiled sadly. "You know? Where I feel…invincible." 

His eyes drifted somewhere beyond the walls. The smile disappeared. "But then..." He swallowed. "There are a lot of bad days." Silence. "And I remember that nothing...nothing matters."

Yelena didn't interrupt. She understood that sentence too well. "So..." she asked quietly. "...you’re just going to sit here and let it take over?"

Bob nodded once. "There's no point fighting it." His eyes wandered around the attic. "Atleast, I found a nice room." He forced another tiny smile. "The others are much worse."

Yelena looked around. It was quiet. Too quiet. Then, a crash echoed downstairs. Someone screamed.

A woman's voice. "No, please—"

Another crash. Something shattered. Bob flinched instinctively. Yelena froze. A man's furious shouting thundered through the house. Another slap. Another scream. Another apology.

"I'm sorry." The words repeated over and over. Then, a much younger voice.

"Stop!" Bob. Just a little boy. Tiny footsteps. 

Then another sickening impact. The screaming stopped. Only crying remained. 

A woman's trembling voice broke through it. "You always make it worse."

Bob shut his eyes. His breathing became uneven. Yelena's heart shattered. She slowly sat beside him. Neither spoke for a long time.

Finally… "I'm sorry."

Bob wiped at his eyes quickly. "It's fine."

Yelena stared ahead. "What I said to you before," She smiled sadly. "I was wrong, Bob."

He looked at her.

"You can't stop it." She shook her head again. "You can't hold it in, all alone.”  She looked directly at him. "Nobody can."

Bob blinked. "So, what do I do?"

"We have to let it out." Silence. "We have to spend time together. And even if it doesn't make the emptiness go away, I promise you it will feel lighter. "

Bob stared at her. "How do you know?"

She thought about Alexei. Natasha. Even the strange people she'd met only hours ago.

Her eyes shimmered. "Because it already has for me."

She thought about Alexei's hug. About finally admitting she wasn't okay. About someone choosing to stay anyway. She smiled through the tears.

“We find a way out of here together.”

She slowly stood. Then held out her hand. "Will you try and leave here with me?"

For the first time, Bob reached toward her. Their fingers almost touched, the room convulsed. The walls cracked with a deafening groan. Every cardboard box exploded open. Darkness poured from them like black smoke.

"No!"

The attic screamed. Not metaphorically. The entire house screamed. The wallpaper peeled itself from the walls, twisting into black tendrils that shot toward them. The floor buckled beneath their feet. The ceiling collapsed.

Bob instinctively grabbed an old wooden baseball bat lying beside the mattress. He swung. The darkness split, only to reform instantly. The bat shattered in half. Black curtains ripped themselves from the windows, wrapping around their throats like living hands.

Yelena clawed desperately at the fabric as it lifted her off the floor. She gasped for air. "Bob! Who’s doing this?"

He struggled just as violently beside her. The darkness tightened. "I think..." he choked out, "I am." His eyes filled with horror. 

His feet dangled helplessly above the floor. "Try to get used to it." he whispered through strained breaths. "There’s no death here." His voice broke. "The pain," The darkness squeezed tighter. "only gets worse."

Above them, the house continued to collapse inward. As though the Void itself had realized something terrifying. Bob had almost chosen to leave. And it would destroy everything before letting him go.

The curtains tightened. Yelena clawed desperately at the black fabric crushing her throat while Bob fought beside her, both suspended helplessly above the floor.

The attic groaned. The walls bent inward. The house itself seemed determined to bury them alive. Then—

A blade sliced clean through the darkness. The curtain split apart with a deafening tear. Yelena and Bob crashed onto the wooden floor, coughing violently as air flooded back into their lungs.

Ava landed between them, her sword still raised. "You're welcome."

Before either of them could answer, the room erupted again. The dresser ripped itself off the floor and hurtled across the attic. 

Bucky stepped forward without thinking. His vibranium hand caught the entire thing midair. Wood exploded beneath his grip. With a grunt, he spun and slammed it back into the floorboards, reducing it to splinters.

Across the room, a bookshelf tore free from the wall. You reacted instinctively. Your bracelet shimmered as fractured nanotech raced over your forearms. You caught the spinning shelf just long enough to redirect it. It slammed into the opposite wall, bursting apart into flying books and shattered wood instead of crushing anyone beneath it.

A cracked portrait launched itself toward Bob. Walker intercepted it with his shield. The frame splintered against the metal with a loud crack.

Alexei looked around wildly as feathers suddenly exploded through the room. A pillow had apparently become possessed. It launched itself directly at his face. He grabbed it with both hands. "You..." He glared at it dramatically. "...evil pillow!"

With a mighty yell, he ripped it completely in half. Feathers erupted everywhere.

For one completely absurd second, the room looked like it was snowing.

Even Ava blinked.

Walker stared. "...Seriously?"

"It attacked me first."

No one had time to argue. Another wave of darkness rolled through the attic before slowly settling back into the walls. Silence returned. Only ragged breathing remained.

Yelena pushed herself upright first. Alexei looked at her "...Lena."

He was already kneeling beside her. His hands hovered awkwardly in front of him. Unsure whether she wanted comfort. Unsure whether he'd earned it.

"You came for us."

His eyes softened. "Of course."

No one else answered. Because the answer felt obvious. Of course they had.

Nothing more needed saying. Yelena looked around the room. At Ava. Walker. You. Bucky. Every one of you looked exhausted. Bruised. Covered in dust. Still standing.

Her eyes finally settled on Bucky. "What did you see? Are you okay?"

He let out a dry laugh. "Oh, I’m fine..." He dusted splinters from his jacket. "I have a great past." He forced a smile. "I'm totally fine."

Walker snorted. Ava rolled her eyes. Even Yelena smiled faintly.

Bucky looked toward you. The humor disappeared almost immediately. His eyes searched yours. Not for answers. For you. 

Are you alright? 

The question never reached his lips. It didn't have to. You knew it anyway. 

Your heartbeat hadn't quite settled. Not after what you'd seen. Not after what the Void had forced you to relive.

The first room had been the night before Afghanistan. Tony. Young. Laughing. Brilliant. Impossible.

He'd stood in front of you, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt, asking if you wanted to fly with him.

"C'mon." His grin had been so effortlessly familiar. "It'll be fun."

You remembered exactly what you'd said. "No."

You'd been annoyed. Tired of Stark Industries. Tired of weapons demonstrations. Tired of following your brother around the world.

You remembered the argument. Every cruel word. Every frustrated sigh. The version of yourself in that room had shouted after him.

"I hate you!" You'd screamed until your throat burned. 

"Tony!" You'd tried to stop yourself. Tried to reach him. Tried to tell him not to leave without you apologizing.

Your hands had passed straight through him. He'd kept walking. Never looking back.

You'd chased him anyway. Because you knew. You knew exactly where that plane was going.

The room dissolved before you could catch him. Then...Steve.

One quiet evening. His apartment. His arms around you as the two of you talked long into the night. He'd spoken about Bucky. About finally helping his best friend find peace.

You remembered falling asleep against his chest. Safe. Loved. Certain tomorrow would come.

At first, you hadn't understood why this belonged in a shame room. It wasn't shame. It was one of the happiest nights of your life.

Until morning never came. The apartment disappeared. The lake replaced it. Old Steve. The bench. His wedding ring. His apology. The goodbye you never got.

You watched yourself collapse into his arms. Watched your entire future unravel.

Then, your eyes found Bucky. Standing a few feet away. Watching. Knowing. You felt the old hurt rise again.

Only this time, the room changed before it could consume you. The dock. Louisiana. The confession.

You watched yourself step away from him. Watched disappointment settle across his face. Watched the way his shoulders seemed to fold inward after you'd left.

You wanted to run to him. To tell that version of yourself—He's telling you because he loves you enough to risk losing you.

Instead, you could only watch. Shame wasn't always about what you'd done. Sometimes, it was about understanding too late.

Another door appeared. You almost didn't walk through it. Then, you thought of Yelena. Still fighting. Still somewhere inside the Void. You thought of Bob. Terrified. Alone.

You thought of Bucky. If he was still walking, so would you. 

You opened the next door. Again. And again. And again. Each room hurt. Each room asked you to stay. To believe you deserved the guilt. To keep reliving it forever.

But every time, you remembered why you couldn't. There were still people waiting for you. People who needed you to come back. People you wanted to come back to.

Now, standing once again in the attic, you looked across the room. Your eyes found Bucky. Just as his found yours.

For one impossible second, the dock flashed through your mind. The confession. The tears. The secret that had nearly broken both of you.

Only, the pain wasn't there anymore. Not really. You'd walked through it. What remained was something quieter. Gratitude.

You hadn't lost him. He was standing right there. Bruised. Covered in dust. Alive.

You nodded once. Small. Almost imperceptible. I'm here.

His shoulders lowered. Only then did he finally breathe. You recognized the expression immediately. It mirrored your own.

He'd seen things too. Things he'd never tell another soul. Hydra. Steve. The names in the notebook. The people he couldn't save. The people he couldn't stop mourning.

Neither of you asked. Neither of you needed to. Some wounds weren't meant to be described. Only understood. And somehow, knowing the other had made it out, made carrying them feel just a little less lonely.

Walker rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah..." He looked around uneasily. "This place is seriously messed up."

"It is," you agreed quietly.

Your eyes moved across every face in the attic. Bob. Still shaking. Yelena. Holding onto Alexei's sleeve. Walker. Trying to pretend he wasn't terrified. Ava.

Standing close enough to everyone that she could reach them if something happened. Bucky. Watching every exit. Watching all of you.

"We're here together."

Everyone looked at you.

“That’s what matters” You smiled faintly. 

Silence settled over the room again. Different this time. Not empty. Comfortable. Almost surprising.

Bob looked at each of you in disbelief. His eyes lingered on the faces surrounding him. "You..." His voice cracked. "...you all came."

No one answered immediately. There wasn't really anything to say.

Yelena simply gave him a small smile. "We're here."

Bob looked down at the floor. "...Thank you."

The words sounded foreign, as though he wasn't used to saying them. "Really."

Ava folded her arms. "Of course."

She looked around at the six people standing beside her. "Here we are." She sighed dramatically. "Shane’s elite electronic Thunderbolts."

Alexei immediately frowned. "It is not Shane."

Walker rubbed his forehead and looked toward Bob, "Okay,” He gestured down the endless hallway. “How do we get out of here?."

Bob's expression fell again. "As far as I know..." He glanced into the darkness stretching beyond the attic. "It's just infinite rooms."

Silence settled again. Then, Yelena tilted her head.

"You said something earlier."

Bob looked at her.

"You said this was the nicest room you found."

He nodded slowly.

"The others..." She took a breath. "...are worse."

His face tightened. "Much."

Everyone stared at her. 

"Okay." Yelena admitted softly. "Well,”she offered him her hand. "Show us the worst."

The attic dissolved around them. Walls folded inward like paper. The floor stretched into another impossibly long hallway. Every doorway whispered. Every room breathed. The deeper they walked… the darker the house became.

The lights flickered overhead. Family photographs appeared along the walls. Each one distorted. Faces blurred. Eyes scratched away. Childhood reduced to fragments. No one spoke. Even Alexei had fallen silent.

Finally, Bob stopped. "I hate this one."

Before anyone could ask why, the living room exploded into existence around them. A younger Bob stood frozen near the front door. His father blocked the exit.

"Where do you think you're going, Robert?" The man's voice rattled the entire house.

Bob instinctively stepped backward. His breathing quickened.

Walker looked from Bob to the father, then shrugged. "Yeah..." He rolled his shoulders. "I've heard enough."

Without another word, he marched across the room. And punched the memory square in the face. The shield connected with a satisfying crack. The man disappeared through the wall. Silence.

You blinked. "...Well." You looked at Walker. "That was nice."

Walker gave a single shrug. "I've met bad dads."

The room immediately rebelled. Furniture tore itself loose. Tables spun through the air. Cabinets ripped from the walls. The entire living room twisted violently.

Alexei ducked beneath a flying chair. "This..." He looked around in disbelief. "...is strangest mission I have ever been on."

A closet door suddenly burst open. Darkness waited inside.

Yelena pointed. "This way!"

Everyone ran. 

Walker reached you first. His hand instinctively caught your wrist. "C'mon!"

There wasn't a second to question it. He simply wasn't about to leave anyone behind.

You matched his pace immediately as the room continued collapsing around you. A heavy beam crashed where you'd been standing only moments before.

Before Walker could pull you another step—Bucky was there. 

His hand closed around your free arm, steadying you before you even realized you'd lost your footing. "You good?"

You nodded once. "I'm fine."

He didn't let go until he was certain you were balanced again. Only then did his hand fall away.

Walker noticed. The smallest corner of his mouth lifted.

"You know..." he muttered as the three of you kept moving, careful not to let you hear, "...I was just trying to keep her from getting crushed."

Bucky didn't look away from the path ahead. "I know."

"You looked ready to throw me through the wall."

"I considered it."

Walker let out a quiet huff of laughter. "Easy, Barnes."

Another few hurried steps. "I'm not stealing your girl."

Bucky finally glanced sideways. "She’s not my ‘girl’"

Walker smirked. "Sure she’s not."

Bucky frowned. "I was making sure she didn't fall."

"Mhm." Walker nodded as though that explained everything. "That's definitely what that was."

Bucky opened his mouth to argue. Nothing came out. Because, irritatingly… He wasn't entirely sure Walker was wrong.

Walker chuckled under his breath. "Relax." He gave Bucky a light pat on the shoulder as they reached the doorway. "I've got enough problems." A beat. "I'm not adding you to the list."

For the briefest second, Bucky almost smiled. Almost.

Then his attention returned immediately to you as you reached the doorway.

"You first."

You didn't notice either exchange. You were already following Yelena into the darkness.

Walker caught Bucky watching to make sure you disappeared safely through the opening before he moved himself.

He shook his head with an amused smile. "...Told you."

You hit concrete instead of wood. The smell changed instantly. Grease. Fried food. Rain-soaked pavement.

You looked up. A fake city street stretched endlessly in both directions. A giant smiling chicken rotated above a run-down restaurant.

Bob stopped dead. "...Oh no."

The mascot slowly turned. Its painted grin stretched wider. Much wider. Then it ripped its own advertising sign out of the sidewalk.

"Seriously?" Walker barely finished the sentence before—WHACK.

The sign smacked him across the helmet. Alexei burst into laughter. Then the mascot hit him too.

"You!" Alexei pointed accusingly at Bob "You hit me with sign!" He marched toward him dramatically. "One more time—"WHACK.

Alexei flew backward again.

"I was on meth!" Bob yelled apologetically over the chaos. "I worked here!"

"That explains absolutely nothing!" Ava muttered.

The mascot raised the sign again, Bucky stepped between it and Bob. One clean punch. The mascot's oversized chicken head exploded into stuffing. It collapsed like a deflated parade balloon.

Alexei dusted himself off proudly. "I weakened him."

"You absolutely did not."

"I emotionally weakened him."

Before Walker could respond, Alexei spotted another opening. "There!"

A cellar door hung open beneath a broken streetlamp. "This way!"

One by one, everyone disappeared underground.

The next room stole every remaining smile. Sterile white walls. Bright fluorescent lights. Metal tables. Observation windows. Medical restraints. The smell of antiseptic. Needles. Monitors. A laboratory. No. A prison pretending to be one.

No one spoke. Yelena's breathing caught. She slowly stepped forward. Recognition washed over her face.

"...I've been here before." The words barely rose above a whisper.

Bob stopped walking. He looked younger somehow. Smaller. Like every step hurt. At the center of the room, someone sat on an examination chair. Head lowered. Dark silhouettes watched from behind the glass. Doctors. Scientists. Observers. Watching. Waiting. Experimenting. 

Everyone turned toward her. The laboratory stretched endlessly around them.  White walls. Observation windows.  Medical restraints. Needles. Cold steel.

Bob’s breathing became uneven. "...This..." He looked around with hollow eyes. "...this is where it started."

No one interrupted him.

"I'd been wandering through Southeast Asia." His voice sounded distant, almost detached. "I thought maybe I'd figure something out."

A humorless laugh escaped him. "At least find more drugs."

Silence. "Then there was this guy" His eyes drifted toward the operating table. "He told me about a medical study. A trial drug. They said it could make me stronger." His shoulders sagged. "It sounded like a miracle."

He smiled bitterly. "Finally I could prove to everyone that I was more" He struggled to finish. "that i was something."

The room darkened. A second voice echoed through the laboratory. Lower. Colder.

"And look what you unleashed."

Everyone turned. The shadows pooled together beside the operating table. A figure slowly emerged. Golden eyes burned beneath a silhouette of black smoke. The Sentry. No. The Void.

It smiled. Bob froze.

The dark figure circled him slowly. "The most shameful thing of all," Its voice echoed from every direction at once. "was thinking you could be anything more than," It leaned closer. "nothing."

Bob couldn't answer. Because somewhere deep inside, he still believed it.

Yelena stepped forward. "Bob." She reached toward him. "We're leaving."

The Void looked at her. "No."

Its eyes ignited. Gold swallowed black.

The entire laboratory exploded into motion. The examination table ripped free from the floor. It slammed sideways into Alexei and Yelena before either could react. Metal restraints burst outward like living snakes. They wrapped around both of them, pinning them brutally against the wall.

Alexei grunted as steel tightened across his chest. "Lena!"

You moved instinctively. "Yelena—"

The ceiling answered. Machines tore themselves apart overhead. Cables whipped through the air. One wrapped around your wrist. Then another. Your ankles. Your waist. Before you could activate the rest of the nanotech, the restraints yanked violently. Your back slammed against a support column hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Cold steel tightened. One more cable shot past your shoulder.  

Bucky. He never reached the Void. He reached for you. His metal hand caught yours for only the briefest instant before another restraint tore him away. The force slammed him into the same steel beam beside you. 

Your shoulders collided. His vibranium arm strained immediately against the restraints. The metal groaned. Steam hissed from the joints. He wasn't trying to free himself. He was trying to reach you.

The restraints dug deeper into your arms. Sharp edges bit through the fabric of your suit. You winced.

Bucky stopped struggling for half a second. His eyes found yours instantly. "Hey." His voice was quieter now. "You okay?"

You forced a smile despite the pain. "I've had better Mondays."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Even now. Even here.

Walker never got the chance to move. A steel support rod launched across the room like a spear. It punched clean through the wall beside him before pinning his shoulder in place. He cried out through clenched teeth. "Damn it!"

Ava phased instinctively, the Void anticipated her. The instant she became tangible again, surgical restraints snapped around her torso, forcing her against another wall. One by one., everyone fell.

Until only Bob remained standing. He looked around the room. At every person trapped because they'd followed him. His breathing became frantic.

"No..." He shook his head desperately. "No..."

The Void stood behind him. Watching. Waiting.

Bob turned toward it. "Stop." His voice cracked. "Please. Let them go."

The Void laughed softly. "You still don't understand." It stepped closer. "You think they care about you?" Its smile widened. "You don't matter to anyone."

Bob's shoulders began to shake.

"That's not true!" Yelena shouted. Her voice echoed through the laboratory. She fought against the restraints until they cut into her wrists. "We came because you're worth saving!"

The Void barely looked at her. A twisted shard of metal ripped itself from the ceiling. It shot across the room. The impact slammed into Yelena's restraints with enough force to wrench a scream from her throat.

"Yelena!" Alexei strained violently against his own restraints.

Bucky surged forward again. The beam behind him groaned. The vibranium arm screamed under the pressure. Still, it wasn't enough.

The Void smiled.  For one terrible heartbeat… Bob almost believed it.

Bob's voice cracked. "Don't hurt her." The words barely escaped him. But they were enough.

The Void smiled. Slowly. Almost sympathetically. "There he is." Its golden eyes burned brighter. "Robert." It spread its arms wide. "The hero."

Every glass cabinet in the laboratory exploded. Thousands of razor-sharp fragments burst into the air like a storm.

You instinctively ducked, twisting your body as shattered glass rained around you. Tiny cuts bloomed across your forearms and cheek. Beside you, Bucky turned his face toward your shoulder, shielding what little he could despite still being restrained.

The Void never looked away from Bob. 

Bob's fists trembled. "I'm stronger than you."

"Oh?" The smile widened. "Then show me."

Bob charged. He didn't think. He didn't hesitate. He simply ran. His fist collided with the Void’s jaw. The impact echoed through the laboratory. The Sentry answered with one of his own. Bob staggered. Hit back. Again. Again.

The room shook with every collision. For one impossible moment it almost looked even. Until, the Void caught Bob's wrist. Twisted. And drove him into the floor hard enough to crack the concrete beneath him.

Walker strained violently against the metal pinning his shoulder. "Get up, Bobby!"

Bob forced himself onto one knee. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His breathing came in ragged gasps.

The Void walked toward him slowly. Almost casually. "You thought you were going to be some great man?"

Another punch. Bob crashed backward.

"Some kind of savior?" 

Another.  Bob tried to stand. His legs buckled beneath him.

The Void crouched in front of him. "You can't even save yourself."

Silence. Bob knelt there. Broken. Unable to lift his arms anymore. The Void looked around the room. At every person restrained. At every friend who had followed Bob into the darkness.

"You see?" His voice echoed from every wall. "We will always be alone."

The laboratory convulsed. The walls cracked. The ceiling screamed. Medical equipment ripped free from the floor. Lights burst overhead. Everything vibrated. Everything threatened to collapse.

Through the chaos, Bob lifted his head. Not toward the Void. Toward Yelena. She was still trapped against the wall. Their eyes met.

You saw it happen. Something shifted. Not confidence. Not strength. Memory. Her words. "You don't carry it alone. Let someone stay."

Bob inhaled sharply. Then screamed. He threw himself forward. Not because he thought he could win. Because he refused to surrender.

He tackled the Void to the ground. His fists came down again. And again. And again. Each punch carried years of shame. Years of addiction. Years of believing he wasn't enough.

The laboratory trembled harder. Darkness leaked from beneath the Sentry's body like smoke. But it wasn't disappearing. It was growing.

The shadows crawled over Bob's arms. Across his shoulders. Up his neck. The more he fought, the stronger they became.

Bucky felt it immediately. His eyes snapped toward you. You were already watching. Already understanding. 

Your stomach dropped. "No..." You whispered.

It wasn't loud. No one heard you. Except Bucky. You stared at Bob. At the darkness swallowing him whole.

"This isn't right."

Bucky followed your gaze. The realization hit him almost instantly.

"He isn't beating it..." Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "...he's feeding it."

Every punch. Every ounce of anger. Every desperate attempt to prove himself. The Void wanted exactly that.

Across the room, Yelena saw it too. "Bob!"

She fought desperately against the restraints. "Stop!" Her voice cracked. "This is what he wants!"

But Bob couldn't hear her anymore. The darkness had already wrapped itself around his shoulders. Around his hands. The Void wasn't even fighting back now. He simply smiled beneath the blows. Waiting. Growing stronger.

Yelena's eyes darted toward Alexei. She didn't have to speak. He understood immediately. With one final roar, Alexei planted both feet against the wall and pulled with everything he had left. The restraints screamed. Metal twisted. Finally, One cuff snapped. Then another. Just enough.

Yelena slipped free. She didn't hesitate. She ran. The laboratory itself turned against her. Hospital beds launched across the room. She vaulted over one. Steel trays exploded from the walls. She ducked beneath them. Needles rained like arrows. She spun between them. The darkness reached for her ankles. She kept running. Her eyes never left Bob. Never once.

Because she wasn't running toward the Void. She was running toward the man who still believed he had to fight alone.

Yelena cleared the last piece of twisted metal with one desperate leap. She landed hard behind Bob, stumbling as she caught herself. Then, she wrapped both arms around him. Holding him as tightly as she could.

"I'm here."

Bob's fists kept moving. One punch. Another. Another. 

The Void barely reacted. Its smile never disappeared. "It will always be..." The voice echoed from every wall. "...just us."

Bob swung again. Slower this time.

"I said..." Yelena buried her forehead against the back of his shoulder. "I'm here."

His arm hesitated. Only for a heartbeat.

"You are not alone."

The words seemed to ripple through the room itself. The restraints around everyone's wrists shuddered. Then loosened. Not enough to fall away. Just enough.

Walker was the first to react. With a roar, he ripped the steel rod free from his shoulder. Blood stained his sleeve as he tore it loose and hurled it aside without a second thought.

Bucky didn't even look at his own restraints. He tore one arm free. Then immediately turned toward you. His vibranium hand wrapped around the metal binding your legs. The steel groaned. One violent pull, it snapped.

"You good?"

You nodded once. "I'm good."

That was all either of you needed. Together, you ran. Alexei burst free moments later with a yell that shook the laboratory. Ava phased through the remaining restraints, landing lightly beside him. All of you converged at once.

Bob never stopped punching. His face had almost disappeared beneath the creeping darkness now. Only one terrified eye remained visible.

The Void laughed beneath him. Yelena tightened her arms around him.

Walker reached him first. He grabbed Bob's raised fist before another punch could fall. "Easy, Bobby."

Bob fought him instinctively.

Bucky caught his other arm. "Bob."

You dropped beside him, taking hold of his shoulders. "Look at me. We’re here."

He couldn't. The darkness kept pulling him back. Ava knelt beside him. Alexei wrapped both arms around all of them without hesitation. It took every one of you together, to pull Bob away from the Void.

The shadow clung to him. Fought for him. Then finally, released. The momentum sent all seven of you crashing backward. No grace. No hero landings.

Just one tangled heap of bruised limbs and exhausted bodies. 

Walker hit the pavement hard, sliding several feet across the asphalt.

You landed awkwardly beside him, the impact knocking the air from your lungs as momentum carried you forward. Your forearm caught against his chest while his instinctive grip steadied your shoulder before either of you could skid farther across the street.

"You alright?" Walker asked immediately, still trying to catch his breath.

Before you could answer, another body collided with yours. Bucky.

He hit the pavement on your opposite side, his vibranium arm catching the asphalt with a harsh scrape as his flesh hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you the remaining distance toward him.

The movement wasn't rough. It was automatic. Almost possessive in how completely it removed you from the awkward tangle you'd landed in.

His vibranium arm planted firmly against the pavement behind your head, shielding it from striking the concrete as the last of your momentum carried you into him.

Only then did everything stop moving. Silence. Heavy breathing. Dust. The smell of smoke.

For one long second, no one seemed to realize exactly how they'd landed.

Walker was still half-propped on one elbow. You were pressed securely against Bucky's side. His arm remained around your waist. Your hand rested against his chest without either of you noticing.

Walker looked between the two of you. Then toward Bucky. One tired eyebrow lifted.

"...You know," he muttered between breaths, "I was breaking her fall."

Bucky didn't even look at him. "I know."

"...Didn't seem like it."

"I had it."

Walker let out an exhausted laugh. "Yeah."

He looked at your position tucked safely against Bucky. "...I can see that."

Bucky frowned, finally glancing over. Only then did he seem to realize he was still holding you. His hand immediately loosened. "...Sorry."

You looked down. Realized your palm was still resting against the front of his shirt. Your cheeks warmed. "...It's okay."

Walker watched the two of you with a knowing smile before pushing himself to his feet. "...You're welcome, by the way."

Bucky blinked. "For what?"

Walker dusted debris from his jacket. "For almost catching her first."

Alexei barked out a laugh somewhere behind him. "You two are exhausting."

Even Ava rolled her eyes. "You boys done?"

Neither answered. Because, truthfully, Bucky still wasn't entirely sure why the sight of Walker's hand on your shoulder had bothered him so much.

He only knew one thing. The moment he'd felt you falling, every instinct he'd spent decades trying to ignore had shouted exactly the same thing. Get to her.

Then, the darkness cracked. Like glass. Light spilled through the fractures. The laboratory dissolved. The walls faded. The house disappeared. The Void collapsed inward until nothing remained.

You blinked against the sunlight. Cold pavement. Fresh air. The middle of Manhattan.

One by one, the shadows surrounding the city unraveled. People reappeared exactly where they'd vanished. Some stumbled. Others immediately threw themselves into the arms of loved ones. Crying. Laughing. Calling names. Traffic slowly returned. Sirens echoed in the distance. The city was alive again.

Around you, your group slowly untangled themselves. Walker groaned as he pushed himself upright. Alexei stretched dramatically, wincing halfway through. Ava dusted soot from her jacket. Bucky finally released his hand from your waist. Neither of you acknowledged how long it had stayed there.

Bob sat in the middle of the street, blinking at all of you. His expression was completely lost.

Walker broke the silence first. "You were pretty great in there, Bobby."

Bob looked up. "Thanks, Walker." He smiled sheepishly. Then frowned. "...Wait."

He looked around at the destroyed skyline. The shattered pavement. The overturned cars. "Where?" Silence. His brow furrowed. "Whoa..." He slowly stood. "...what happened here?"

He looked genuinely confused.

"Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm a little..." He searched for the word. "...fuzzy."

Alexei looked at him. Then at everyone else. Then burst into an awkward laugh.

"...You are serious?"

Bob blinked. "I think so."

Yelena stepped closer. She searched his face carefully. "Bob..." Her voice softened. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment. Then smiled. A real one. Small. Honest.

"Yeah." He glanced around at every person standing beside him. His voice caught. "I’m fine."

A voice echoed across the ruined avenue. "Yes, I need an extraction. Right now."

Every head turned.

Valentina stood several yards away, one hand pressed tightly against her phone, the other trying unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles from her designer suit. Behind her, massive LED screens still towered over the plaza.

"...No," she hissed into the receiver. "I don't have backup." She glanced over her shoulder. "I need help."

Alexei followed her gaze. His expression hardened immediately. He pointed dramatically. "I'm going to kill that person."

Walker sighed. "Hold on." He looked toward Bob. "What happens if he gets his memory back?"

Bob blinked. "My memory?"

Yelena gently hooked her arm through his. "It'll be okay." She smiled. "We'll stick together."

Bob looked genuinely surprised. "...Me too?"

She laughed softly. "Especially you."

He smiled. "...That's nice."

The words somehow broke everyone's tension. You fell into step beside Bucky as the group started toward Valentina. Alexei marched just ahead of you, muttering in Russian under his breath.

"You can't kill her," you reminded him. "We need to arrest her."

"I know." He nodded thoughtfully. "...Maybe only break little bones."

Ava glanced sideways. "Oh, I'd like to kill her."

Walker flexed his bent shield with obvious annoyance. "If Bob remembers everything..." He looked down at the warped metal. "...maybe he can fix this thing."

Bob looked horrified.

Valentina finally noticed all of you approaching. Her smile appeared instantly. Manufactured. Perfect.

"Oh..." She clapped her hands together. "I know we're all processing a lot of feelings right now." She gestured vaguely toward the destroyed city. "I certainly am."

She smiled wider. "So, if you'll just give me half a second."

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared behind a row of black stage curtains.

Bucky frowned immediately. "I don't like that."

"Neither do I." You followed anyway.

One by one, the seven of you stepped through the curtains. Then stopped.

Bright lights blinded you. Camera flashes exploded from every direction. Television crews. Microphones. Hundreds of reporters.

A polished podium stood beneath an enormous backdrop displaying the rebuilt Avengers Tower.

Your stomach dropped. "Oh..." You whispered. "The press conference."

Bucky looked equally stunned. He glanced sideways at you. For one absurd second, your eyes drifted to him instead of the crowd. His black shirt was torn from the fight. The sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hair was a mess. There was dried blood across his cheek. He looked exhausted. Alive. Standing beside you. It grounded you more than it should have.

Valentina stepped confidently behind the podium. "Are we live?"

A producer gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled. Perfectly composed.

"For years..." she began,"I've been working in secret to develop a new age of protection" She paused dramatically. "Today..." she spread her arms toward all of you, "the citizens of the United States needed that protection."

Camera shutters erupted.

"And thanks to my hard work they got it." Another pause. She turned. Smiling directly at the seven of you. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers."

The plaza exploded. Applause. Cheers. Questions shouted over one another. Camera flashes lit the afternoon like lightning. For a long moment, none of you moved.

Walker blinked. "...What?"

Ava looked offended. Bob looked around at everyone before politely joining the applause.

Alexei puffed out his chest immediately.  Yelena simply stared at Valentina. Expression unreadable.

Bucky didn't look at the cameras. He looked at you. You met his eyes. Neither of you needed words. She'd done it again. Manipulated the board. Turned disaster into political theater. Taken away your choice. Again.

But this time, something was different. You slowly looked around. Walker. Still complaining. Ava pretending she wasn't relieved everyone survived. Alexei practically glowing with pride. Bob looking completely confused. 

Yelena, who caught your eye. She gave you the smallest nod. You smiled back. Then the two of you walked forward together. Neither of you asked permission.

Valentina's confident smile faltered ever so slightly as you each took a place beside her at the podium. One on each side. Close enough that only she could hear.

Yelena leaned down first. Her smile never reached her eyes. "We own you now."

Valentina's jaw tightened. She kept smiling for the cameras.

The applause continued. The cameras kept flashing. To the rest of the world, it looked like the birth of Earth's newest heroes. Only the eight people standing on that stage knew the truth. This wasn't the team Valentina had built. It was the family she had accidentally created.

And standing beside you, Bucky glanced over just long enough for your shoulders to brush. Neither of you moved away. This time, neither of you had any intention of leaving.

The noise of the city faded as the two of you wandered into one of the quieter alleys behind the tower. Neither of you had planned on walking away together. It had just happened.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It never really had been.

Bucky finally broke it. "You sure you're okay?"

You looked down at the bruise already darkening across your forearm. "I'll survive." You offered him a crooked smile. "Couple bruises. Nothing I haven't had before."

Your smile faded as Bob crossed your mind. "...Bob, though." You exhaled. "I've never met anyone like that."

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Valentina hit the jackpot with that one."

Another silence settled between you. Not empty. Just thoughtful.

You looked toward the traffic moving in the distance. "What she said..."

Bucky glanced over.

"About Bob." You folded your arms. "That nobody believed in him." Your voice softened. "Have you ever felt like that?"

He laughed quietly. "You really have to ask?"

You smiled sadly. "I guess not."

"What about you?"

You looked away. "...Always."

The answer surprised even you.

"When the Avengers started..." You laughed once. "I felt like I snuck into the group."

He frowned. "What?"

"There was Tony, the Iron Man. Steve, America’s golden boy. Captain America.  Nat. Clint. Bruce. Thor." You shrugged. "They were legends. And I felt like somebody's little sister who got dragged along because her brother couldn't leave her home."

Bucky looked genuinely confused. "You actually believed that?"

"I still do." You leaned against the brick wall. "Even now. The Avengers are..." You searched for the word. "...gone. I've never had the courage to call myself one anymore. Not after Thanos." Your voice grew quieter. "Not after Tony." A beat. "...Steve."

Bucky looked at you for a long moment. "They believed in you."

You didn't answer.

"So do I."

You laughed softly. "Thanks."

"I mean it."

Something in his voice made you look back up. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"For a long time, I thought the only thing I deserved was punishment." His gaze drifted toward his vibranium hand. "I thought surviving meant carrying every bad thing I'd ever done until I died." He looked back at you. "You changed that."

You blinked. "What?"

"You." He said it so simply that it almost hurt. "You treated me like..." He searched for the words. "...I mattered. Not like I was someone to fix. Not someone to fear. Just..." He smiled faintly. "...James."

"You made me believe I could become somebody different. You were the first person who looked at me and saw the man instead of the Winter Soldier."

You felt your throat tighten. "Bucky..."

He shook his head. His smile was small, "No. You should hear this."

His eyes drifted toward the skyline. "I don't know when it happened." A quiet laugh escaped him. "Maybe Louisiana." Another. "Maybe that night you showed up at my apartment with pizza."

He looked back at you. "...Or maybe it started the first time you argued with me."

You laughed through the tears gathering in your eyes. "I argued with you a lot."

"You did." He smiled 

"I usually won." You smirked. 

"...Debatable."

You looked at him again, "You never admitted it."

"I was being polite."

You laughed. "You were being stubborn."

"I was flirting."

The words slipped out before either of you realized he'd said them. Silence. His own eyebrows lifted.

"...Huh." A smile slowly tugged at your lips. "So you admit it now?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Yeah." Another small shrug. "I guess I do."

Your smile only grew. "I knew it."

"I know."

"You made me think I was imagining things."

"I was imagining things." He laughed softly. "I didn't realize what I was doing until you pointed it out."

His eyes found yours again. "Then eventually..." Another pause. "...I realized I didn't want to stop."

Your heart stumbled.

"I liked making you smile. So..." He smiled almost shyly. "...I kept doing it."

The confession was somehow even more intimate than saying I like you.

Because you'd lived it. Every blanket. Every teasing remark. Every door he'd quietly opened. Every accidental compliment that slowly stopped being accidental.

He hadn't been trying to charm everyone. Only you.

His smile faded into something quieter. "...Your opinion became the one I cared about most."

The words settled somewhere deep inside your chest.

"You make me want to become someone..." He swallowed. "...you'd be proud of."

Your eyes burned. "Bucky..."

"I'm only saying it because it's true."

Silence settled between you. Real silence. Not empty. Not awkward. Simply...Full.

You wanted to tell him. Everything. That somewhere between the late-night conversations, the bunk beds, the blankets, the teasing, the apartment, the dock, you had stopped thinking of him as Steve's best friend.

Stopped thinking of him as someone you merely cared about. Somewhere, without permission, without fanfare… He had quietly become the person you looked for first whenever you walked into a room.

The person whose laugh you immediately recognized. Whose opinions mattered just as much as your own. Whose safety had somehow become tied to your own heartbeat.

You loved him. The realization no longer frightened you. Keeping it to yourself did.

"I..." Your voice barely existed.

He looked at you. You stepped forward. Not because you meant to. Because your body had already decided.

He did the same. Almost unconsciously.

Neither of you noticed until the space between you had nearly disappeared. Barely a foot. Close enough to see the tiny scar beneath his eye. Close enough to notice the faint flecks of blue hidden inside his gray eyes. Close enough that you could hear him breathe.

His eyes drifted down. Your lips. Only for a heartbeat. Then back to your eyes. He closed his hand into a fist at his side. 

God... He wanted to kiss you. More than he wanted to admit. He wondered, just for one impossible second, what it would feel like. Whether you'd smile into it. Whether you'd laugh afterward. Whether you'd tease him for taking so long.

His heart answered before his mind could. I'd spend the rest of my life finding out.

The thought startled him. Not because it sounded impossible. Because...It didn't.

His eyes lifted to yours again. You wanted this too. The realization hit almost painfully. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t afraid. You were waiting. Waiting for him.

His chest tightened. One kiss. That was all it would take. One kiss...and nothing between you would ever be the same again.

He wasn't afraid of kissing you. He was afraid of what happened after. Because if he crossed that line, he wasn't sure he'd ever survive losing you.

Not after everything. Not now. Not when you'd somehow become home.

You felt yourself leaning the smallest fraction closer. You wanted to close the distance.

Wanted to know whether kissing him felt exactly the way you'd imagined during far too many sleepless nights. Wanted to tell him that he'd already become the man you were proud of.

That somewhere along the way, you had fallen hopelessly in love with Bucky Barnes.

Instead...You smiled. "So..."

Your voice came out barely louder than the wind. "For a hundred-and-eleven-year-old man, you're getting surprisingly sentimental."

His forehead dropped for a second as a quiet laugh escaped him. "I was trying to have a moment."

"I noticed."

"You ruined it."

"I know."

"You always do."

"You love that about me."

The words escaped before you could stop them. Silence. Your eyes widened. Did I really just—

Bucky looked at you. A slow smile spread across his face. "...Yeah."

His answer was immediate. "I do."

The simplicity of it stole your breath. Neither of you joked after that. 

Without thinking, he lifted one hand. His fingers brushed the loose strand of hair that had escaped your updo.

Slowly, almost reverently...He tucked it behind your ear. His fingertips lingered against your skin for the briefest moment. Warm. Gentle.

He hadn't touched you like that before. Not really.

The contact sent a quiet shiver down your spine. He felt it too.

His thumb almost traced your cheek. Almost.

Instead, he let his hand fall. Neither of you stepped back. Neither of you spoke. The almost-kiss lingered between you.

Somehow, it hurt more than if it had happened.

Because now, both of you knew. It wasn't a question of if. Only...When.

Several blocks away, Yelena walked without a destination. She just kept moving. The city buzzed around her, but she barely heard it.

Behind her came heavy footsteps. She didn't have to turn around. She already knew.

"Go away."

Alexei ignored her. "No, I won't."

She sighed. "I'm serious."

"Not forever." He finally caught up beside her. "because that's what family does.” 

Yelena stopped walking. Frustration finally spilled over. "Oh my God."

She threw her hands into the air. "Stop. If you cared, you would've called." Her voice cracked. "I would've liked to hear from you." She swallowed hard. "I lost my sister again, but for good. And you disappeared." 

Alexei looked down at the sidewalk. For once, he didn't have a joke. "I'm sorry."

The words came quietly. Almost awkwardly. "I don't know how to do this." He laughed bitterly at himself. "I'm not good at it."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought..." His shoulders slumped. "I thought you didn't want me."

Yelena looked at him. Tears blurred her vision. "I did."

Those two words nearly broke him.

“I can see that,” he sighed deeply, “I’m late, but I’m here now.” 

She laughed through her tears. "Daddy, I’m so alone,” She looked away. " I don't have anything anymore."

Her breathing became uneven. “All I do is sit and look at my phone and think about all the terrible things I've done. Then I go to work, and then I drink, and then I go home,  to nobody, and I sit and think about all the terrible things I've done again.” 

Her voice dropped to almost nothing. "I'm tired. So tired."

Alexei stepped closer. Not enough to touch her. Just enough that she wouldn't feel alone.

"Stop, stop. We all have things we regret.”

She shook her head. "I have so many. You don't understand. My first test in the Red Room." She closed her eyes. "Anya. She was just a child. So small."

Alexei's own eyes filled. "So were you."

He spoke so gently she almost didn't recognize his voice. Silence settled between them. "I know there were dark years." He nodded slowly. "Very dark years. But you were such a special girl...." A small smile appeared. "Did you know this?" He tried not to cry at her fallen face. "You walked into a room. You made it bright. You felt so much joy."

She frowned. "I don't remember that feeling.”

"You were very kind." He smiled wider. "Remember why you wanted to be a goalkeeper on your terrible soccer team?"

She sniffled. "I wanted to be goalkeeper. So I didn't have to run."

Alexei laughed. "That too. But that's not what you told me."

She looked at him.

"You said..." He pointed toward her chest. "'I want to be the one everyone can count on when they make a mistake.'" His smile softened. "That little girl, she's still in there."

Yelena shook her head immediately. "I don't see her anymore."

"I do." He answered without hesitation. “You're stuck. You're alone. You just stare at your phone.”  His voice broke. "When I look at you, I don't see your mistakes. That's why we need each other.” 

Yelena stared at him. For the first time in years, she let herself believe him. Just a little.

A watery laugh escaped her. "...That..." She wiped at her eyes. "...was actually pretty good."

Alexei grinned proudly. "I've been practicing."

Before either of them could say another word, the crowd around them suddenly stopped moving. One by one, people began looking upward. Phones appeared. Conversations died. Someone pointed toward the skyline. Alexei turned first.

"What is..."

Yelena followed his gaze. Her smile disappeared. "...No."

High above Manhattan. Bob floated silently over the city. Except, he didn't look like Bob anymore. The brilliant gold of the Sentry suit seemed darker somehow. As though the sunlight itself refused to touch him.

The air around him shimmered. Not with light. With shadow. The city seemed to hold its breath. Then, military helicopters burst into view.

Searchlights locked onto him. Bob slowly raised one hand. Not aggressively. Almost, absently.

The helicopters stopped. Hung motionless in the air. The pilots struggled against controls that no longer obeyed them.

Yelena's stomach dropped. "Alexei..."

His answer came as a whisper. "I know."

Bob closed his hand. The pilots vanished. Not exploded. Not thrown clear. Gone. Like someone had erased them from existence.

Empty helicopters immediately spiraled toward the streets below. People screamed. Cars swerved. Glass shattered as thousands looked skyward.

The city that had survived aliens, stood frozen beneath a threat none of them could understand. And for the first time that day, Yelena wasn't looking at the Sentry. She was looking at the darkness gathering behind him.

Because somehow, she knew. The monster they had fought inside the tower, wasn't the real danger. Something far worse had just awakened.

The city erupted. People screamed as they scattered in every direction.

Above them, steel groaned. A construction crane twisted unnaturally, the metal shrieking against itself before the entire arm snapped free. The massive beam crashed through neighboring buildings, ripping away glass and concrete before plummeting toward the crowded street below.

For one suspended heartbeat, everyone froze.

Then Alexei moved. "No!"

He sprinted forward with surprising speed, throwing himself beneath the collapsing steel. His hands caught the twisted beam just before it crushed the crowd beneath it. The impact buckled his knees, concrete cracking beneath his boots.

His face twisted with effort. "Go!" He shoved the beam upward just enough to create a narrow opening. "Move!"

People hesitated.

Alexei roared. "Go! Go! Go!"

The spell broke. Families poured beneath the beam, children crying as strangers pulled one another toward safety.

Across the street, Yelena's head snapped toward the blare of a truck horn. A delivery truck barreled downhill. The windshield was shattered. The driver slumped motionless over the steering wheel. Its path led directly toward a woman trapped between two crushed cars.

Yelena didn't think. "Dad!"

Alexei looked once. That was all he needed. He crouched. She planted one boot into his clasped hands. He launched her skyward. Yelena flipped through the air, landing atop the roof of a parked sedan before throwing herself toward the trapped woman. "Come on!"

She ripped the woman free by the shoulders. The truck tore through the intersection a heartbeat later. Metal screamed. Cars exploded into one another.

The force of the collision sent another vehicle tumbling sideways across the pavement. An elderly couple struggled to stand directly in its path. Bucky intercepted it. His vibranium arm slammed into the side of the spinning car. The impact echoed through the block. His boots carved trenches through the asphalt as he absorbed the momentum before throwing the wreckage safely back across the street.

The elderly man stared at him. "...Thank you."

Bucky barely nodded before he was already looking for the next emergency.

Above him, a military helicopter spiraled downward. Smoke poured from its engines. It was falling directly toward a man frozen in the middle of the intersection.

You ignited the damaged repulsors in your boots. They sputtered. Complained. But they worked. Barely.

You caught the terrified man around the waist and pulled him clear seconds before the helicopter slammed into the pavement behind you, erupting into sparks and twisted metal.

You lowered him beneath the shelter of an overpass.

He looked at you in complete disbelief. "Thank you..."

You squeezed his shoulder. "Stay here."

Then you were already gone. Everywhere you looked. Chaos.

Ava phased through collapsing debris, dragging a teenager through solid concrete moments before an entire façade collapsed.

Walker caught a massive section of falling masonry with both hands. Veins bulged in his neck. His boots slid backward across broken asphalt.

For the first time since you'd met him, he wasn't fighting someone. He was saving someone.

"I—" His arms shook violently. "I can't—"

Ava appeared beside him first. Then Alexei. Then Yelena. Bucky reached the slab next. You landed beside them an instant later, repulsors shutting down completely as you planted both hands against the cracked concrete.

"Push!" Walker shouted.

Six bodies strained together. Concrete groaned. Dust poured from the fractures. Slowly, the slab tipped. Then crashed harmlessly onto its side. Silence. Only for a moment.

Then, applause. It spread through the street like wildfire. People began cheering. Not for one person. For all of them.

Yelena looked genuinely startled. Almost uncomfortable. Alexei immediately waved both arms at the crowd like he was finishing an Olympic routine. Walker looked down at his bent shield. Then quietly back at the people he'd just saved. Ava blinked, unsure what to do with the gratitude. Bucky didn't look at the crowd. 

He looked for you. His eyes found yours immediately. You were brushing dust from your sleeves. Still standing. Relief softened his shoulders before he could stop it.

Then, a small voice cut through the celebration. "...Mom?"

Everyone turned. A little girl stood alone in the middle of the street. No older than six. She spun in circles, tears streaking down her face.

"Mom?"

Bucky’s stomach dropped. Above her, a section of shattered concrete broke free from a damaged building. It fell. Fast.

Alexei saw it first. He ran. The slab crashed across his back with a sickening crack. He staggered. Nearly collapsed. But he stayed standing. His body formed a shield over the little girl.

Dust rolled through the street. When it settled, Alexei slowly straightened. Bruised. Bleeding. Still smiling.

He crouched in front of her. "There." He smiled warmly. "You're safe now, little one."

The girl looked up at him. Then, she smiled. And dissolved. Not into dust. Not into light. Into shadow.

Alexei's smile vanished. "...No."

The darkness spread. A businessman disappeared. A paramedic. A mother reaching for her child. One by one, people unraveled into black silhouettes before vanishing completely. The sunlight dimmed.

You looked skyward. Bob floated high above Manhattan. Except, it wasn't Bob anymore. The darkness poured from him like smoke. It swallowed the afternoon sky.

His voice echoed everywhere at once. "You all know the truth. You can't escape the emptiness."

Walker slowly backed away. His face had gone pale. "I don't think that's Bob anymore." His eyes never left the sky. "I think Bob's dark side just got superpowers." He looked toward everyone else. "Get people off the streets!"

Nobody argued. Nobody waited for orders. They simply ran.

Bucky instinctively rested his flesh hand against the small of your back, guiding you ahead of him through the panicked crowd. The touch lasted less than a second. Barely noticeable. But it was enough.

He wasn't trying to control you. He just needed to know where you were.

You glanced back. He was already ushering civilians into nearby buildings. The streets emptied as fast as they could. Still, they weren't fast enough.

Shadows swallowed people before your eyes. Entire families disappeared in silence. 

Alexei suddenly stopped. His heartbeat lurched.

"...Yelena?"

She wasn't beside him anymore. She was walking. Slowly. Purposefully. Toward the darkness itself.

"Yelena!"

She never looked back. Bob descended until he hovered only a few feet above the pavement. His voice sounded different now. Not cruel. Empty.

"It's what you said." He looked directly at her. "We're all alone. All of us."

Alexei stumbled after her. "Wait!" His voice cracked. "Yelena!"

She kept walking. One more step. Then another. Until the darkness reached her feet. She turned once. Just enough for Alexei to see her face. Not afraid. Simply tired. Then she stepped forward. The shadows wrapped around her. And she vanished.

"YELENA!" Alexei's scream echoed through the ruined streets.

No one answered.

By sunrise, the two of you had traded the polished halls of Washington and the streets of New York for the endless emptiness of the Utah desert.

Neither of you had slept much. After Mel's phone call, there hadn't been time. Only enough to gather what little information she had left behind before boarding the first transport west.

The helicopter touched down beside a weathered military hangar surrounded by miles of red rock and dry brush. The second the rotors slowed, Bucky climbed out.

He looked like an entirely different person than the congressman who had stood beside you at the gala the night before. The tailored navy suit was gone. So was the tie.

In their place came faded black jeans, worn combat boots, a dark Henley beneath his old leather jacket, and a pair of aviator sunglasses he'd somehow kept alive for decades.

Congressman Barnes had disappeared. Bucky was back.

You watched him disappear into the hangar before emerging moments later pushing a familiar black motorcycle into the sunlight.

"You still have that thing?"

He glanced down at it. "It still works."

"Barely." You laughed. "I think it deserves retirement."

"So do I." He swung one leg over the bike. "It ignores both of us."

You walked toward one of the parked government SUVs instead, already fishing the keys from your pocket.

Before you reached the driver's door—"Hey."

You turned. He hesitated. Then nodded toward the motorcycle.

"Ride with me."

The words surprised both of you.

He cleared his throat. "It's faster." A beat. "...Unless you mind."

You looked between the motorcycle and him. You didn't mind. Not even a little. Still, your heart somehow decided now was the perfect time to remind you it existed.

"Okay."

His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He handed you the helmet. "Hang on."

"I was planning on it."

You climbed onto the seat behind him. For a brief, awkward second, you weren't entirely sure what to do with your hands. He noticed.

Without looking back, he reached behind himself and gently took your wrist. "You'll want to hold on." He settled your hand around his waist. "Trust me."

You swallowed. "...Right."

The motorcycle rumbled beneath you. As it pulled away from the hangar, you wrapped your other arm around him too, more out of self-preservation than confidence. Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

The Utah wind whipped across the open highway. His jacket smelled faintly of cedar, engine oil, and the same aftershave you'd somehow never forgotten.

You frowned at yourself. Seriously? That was what your brain decided to focus on? Not the speed. Not the mission. His cologne.

You stared out toward the desert instead. Anything to stop noticing how warm he was beneath your hands.

Ahead, endless sandstone cliffs stretched across the horizon beneath an impossibly blue sky. For several peaceful minutes, neither of you spoke.

Bucky smiled to himself. He'd spent three years imagining what it might feel like to have her sitting beside him again. Turns out, he hadn't imagined it correctly.

He'd expected awkwardness. Distance. Instead, it felt strangely natural. Like she'd always belonged there.

He decided not to think too hard about why that thought made him smile.

The peace didn't last. Movement caught your eye. Far ahead, a stretch limousine barreled across the desert floor, flanked by armored military vehicles. Dust exploded behind their tires.

Your grip instinctively tightened around Bucky. He'd already seen them.

"There." He pointed with his chin. "That's the convoy."

You leaned slightly around his shoulder to get a better look. "They're moving in fast."

The motorcycle accelerated. The engine roared louder beneath you. Within seconds, the distance between you and the convoy began shrinking.

Bucky glanced back just enough for you to hear him over the wind. "You ready?"

You couldn't hear yourself over the engine. Instead, you simply rested your forehead lightly against the back of his shoulder and tapped his side once.

The signal made him smile. "Got it."

He shifted gears. "Hold on."

The motorcycle surged forward. The desert blurred. Within moments you pulled alongside the rear escort vehicle. One of the soldiers immediately swung his rifle toward you.

Bucky didn't even flinch. Still steering with one hand, he reached across with the other. His vibranium arm caught the rifle barrel before the soldier could fire. One twist. A metallic crack. The weapon came free as effortlessly as if he'd taken a toy from a child.

Before the stunned soldier could react, Bucky stripped the magazine, chambered a round, and fired at the second escort vehicle's tow cable.

The shot rang across the desert. The cable snapped loose. He tossed the rifle backward toward you. "Catch."

You caught it instinctively. "Seriously?"

“You've got better aim than I do."

"I do not."

"You'll figure it out."

You laughed despite yourself. Only Bucky Barnes would hand someone a rifle in the middle of a high-speed chase with the confidence of someone passing the salt. Then, he slammed on the brakes.

The motorcycle pitched forward so sharply your heart nearly stopped. You instinctively tightened your grip around him as the rear wheel lifted briefly off the ground before settling again.

He was already moving. Bucky hopped off the motorcycle before it had fully stopped rolling. 

The severed tow cable whipped wildly through the dust. He caught it with his vibranium hand. Planted his boots. Then pulled. Every muscle across his shoulders tightened beneath the leather jacket.

For one impossible second, the armored transport actually resisted him. Then, metal screamed. The entire vehicle lurched sideways. Its front wheels lifted clear off the ground.

The convoy driver barely had time to react before the transport flipped violently through the air, crashing into the desert floor in an explosion of sand and twisted steel. Silence returned almost as quickly as it had vanished.

You climbed off the motorcycle, staring at the overturned vehicle. 

"...You know," you said, brushing sand from your jacket, "Congressmen don’t usually put that on campaign flyers."

Bucky adjusted his sunglasses. "They should."

For the first time since arriving in Utah, you laughed loud enough for him to hear it over the wind. And for just a moment, before either of you remembered why you were there, it almost felt like another adventure together.

Bucky looked over his shoulder. One sharp nod. That was all the communication you needed.

You raised the rifle he'd tossed you moments earlier, planting one knee against the motorcycle seat to steady yourself as the desert blurred around you.

The limousine bounced violently across the uneven terrain. Its reinforced frame made the shot difficult. 

You exhaled slowly. Tony's voice echoed somewhere in the back of your mind. Don't shoot where it is. Shoot where it's going to be.

The trigger broke beneath your finger. The round streaked across the desert. A metallic clang. The magnetic explosive latched perfectly onto the limousine's trunk.

"Nice shot," Bucky called over the roar of the engine.

"You doubted me?"

"Never."

Three. Two. One. The explosive detonated. The blast lifted the rear of the limousine into the air before the entire vehicle rolled violently across the desert floor, flipping once, twice, until it crashed upside down in a cloud of red dust and twisted steel.

The shockwave rattled the motorcycle as Bucky leaned into it without slowing.

You looked over your shoulder just long enough to watch debris scatter across the highway. "...Think they'll need a tow?" you asked.

Bucky snorted. "I think they're past roadside assistance."

Before the dust had even settled, he'd already turned the motorcycle back toward the wreck. He slowed just enough for you to hop off, but before your boots fully touched the ground, he was already moving, scanning the overturned limousine with practiced eyes.

No celebration. No pause. Just instinct. Mission first.

You fell into step beside him without thinking. Three years apart hadn't erased that rhythm. If anything, it had simply been waiting for the two of you to find it again.

Later, after securing the perimeter, you and Bucky settled inside an abandoned service station on the edge of the desert. The old repair shop smelled of gasoline, rust, and decades of engine oil soaked into concrete.

The four prisoners occupied the open grease pit in the center of the garage. Enhanced restraints circled wrists where necessary. Thick climbing rope handled the rest. Walker sat on one side, arms crossed behind his back due to the restraints. Across from him sat a woman whose file identified her as Ava Starr, Ghost. She looked bored more than concerned, as if captivity ranked low on the list of inconvenient things she'd experienced. 

Next to her lounged an enormous man in a faded red-and-white suit who somehow managed to look comfortable despite being tied. Alexei Shostakov. The Red Guardian.

Across from him sat the youngest of them all. Yelena Belova. She looked nothing like the smiling photographs Natasha had once shown you during quiet nights at the Compound. Same eyes. Same sharp attention. Different sadness.

Nat had talked about her constantly after the Blip. "She's stubborn. She's annoying. You'd actually like her."

You hadn't believed that last one. Now, standing across the room from her, you wished Natasha had been right here to introduce you herself.

Instead, this was how you met. Through restraints. Silence. And another one of Valentina's messes.

Beside you, Bucky leaned against the garage door, scrolling through intelligence reports on his phone. You did the same. Everything connected. John Walker. Former Captain America. Now US Agent. Ava Starr. Multiple black-site operations. Alexei. Former Soviet asset. Yelena. Freelance operative. Every file eventually circled back to the same name.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Which was exactly why all four of them had become political evidence. The problem was that none of them looked remotely guilty. Just exhausted.

Then Alexei finally broke the silence. "No, no no," he groaned dramatically, straining against the ropes. "Just when I was just getting my team together. Mister soldier, you are making a serious mistake.."

Bucky didn't even glance up from his phone. "Save it for the committee."

Yelena frowned. "What committee?"

You answered before Bucky could. "All of you are evidence in the impeachment against Valentina.” 

Four pairs of eyes landed on you. Then, they laughed. Not politely. Actually laughed.

Walker shook his head. "That's cute."

Ava rolled her eyes. "We don't even work for Valentina anymore. She tried to k*ll us."

Walker looked toward you. "We were ordered to destroy all of her secrets. Actually sent us to k*ll each other in this vault."

"But," Yelena interrupted, "then we met Bob."

“Bob” Walker scoffed. 

"There was a man in the vault." Yelena leaned forward. "She's done something to him. It's called Project Sentry.”

"He shot up into the sky,” Ava said. "he exploded and then crashed into this mountain, and then he died, didn't die."

Bucky pocketed his phone. “Yeah, I got it. He's very, very scary.”

“Rude” Yelena whispered to the others. 

“Okay” Walker smirked. He met his stare without flinching. "Congressman Barnes."

For the first time since arriving, Bucky pushed himself off the wall. His expression had changed. Not angry. Focused.

You felt Bucky tense beside you before he moved. He crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps until he stood over Walker.

"Alright, Walker. What's that supposed to mean?"

Walker looked almost amused. "It means you know me." His voice lost some of its sarcasm. "So cut the shit and listen to what we're trying to tell you."

The garage fell quiet. For a second, Bucky looked ready to argue. You recognized the look. It wasn't anger. It was fear. Fear of being wrong. Fear of trusting the wrong person. Again.

His jaw tightened. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know you, John." His blue eyes never left Walker's. "And you’ve made your choices." A pause. "I know it’s been hard since Olivia left you." Another. "And took your kid." 

His voice remained calm, almost painfully so. "But none of that changes what you've done. This..." He gestured toward the group tied in front of him."...is still on you."

The words landed like a punch. Walker didn't fire back. For the first time since you'd met him, he simply stared. Not angry. Just hit somewhere he hadn't expected.

"Bucky." Your voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be. Bucky looked over his shoulder. You gave the smallest shake of your head. Enough.

You understood why he'd said it. Walker had spent years hiding behind medals, uniforms, and Captain America. Now, he hid behind sarcasm. But some wounds weren't ammunition. Not if you wanted someone to trust you.

Bucky exhaled through his nose and looked away. He didn't apologize. But he let the moment die.

Your eyes drifted toward Walker. You knew more than most. The divorce filings. The custody paperwork. The psychiatric evaluations that had quietly landed on your desk because of your position. You'd read every page. Every recommendation. Every headline. You'd learned long ago that government files could tell you everything, except how lonely someone actually was.

You'd never reached out. Never called. Not because you hated him. Because somewhere along the way you'd convinced yourself the two of you weren't friends. Just people who'd survived the same war from opposite sides. Sometimes peace was all two people ever managed to give each other.

Walker wasn't looking at Bucky anymore. He was looking at you. More specifically, at the name you'd used. Bucky. Not Congressman Barnes. Not Barnes. Not James. Bucky.

Three years ago, in Latvia, he'd asked if the two of you were friends. You'd both denied it. "Just coworkers." He remembered.

Now, watching the way you instinctively stepped between them, the way Bucky had actually listened when you spoke, the answer was obvious. Neither of you had to say it anymore.

Walker looked away first. Across the room, Yelena's eyes flicked between the two men. Walker's shoulders stiffened. For a fraction of a second, something flashed across his face. Grief. Sadness. Disappointed. Embarrassed.  Then it disappeared behind the familiar mask.

Silence settled over the garage again. This time, even Alexei didn't have a joke.

Ava leaned forward as much as the restraints allowed. "Bucky... Allison... there isn't going to be any committee." Her voice carried none of Walker's sarcasm or Alexei's theatrics. "There might not even be a government if this keeps going."

She hesitated. "Val has something big."

Bucky scoffed. "Yeah, I got it." He gestured vaguely toward them. "His name's Bob. Or Sentry. He flies." His eyes swept across the group. "And all of you are heroes going after Val, ready to save the day.” A humorless smile crossed his face. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

Walker let out an incredulous laugh. "We weren't going after her together. "

He looked directly at you this time. As if waiting for you to say something. To take their side. To be the reasonable one in the room. Instead, you remained quiet, listening.

Yelena spoke before the silence could linger. "We were trying to get home." A beat. "Alive, actually."

Bucky folded his arms. "That's somehow even more pathetic."

He turned away from them, putting the conversation behind him as he walked back toward the garage door. Toward you.

The others continued arguing behind him. Alexei insisted he had been right all along, Yelena told him to be quiet, but the noise faded into the background.

You watched Bucky instead. The tightness in his shoulders. The way his vibranium hand flexed once before settling at his side. He wasn't angry. He was thinking. Trying to decide whether instinct or experience should win.

You stepped closer until only he could hear you. "I think they're telling the truth."

His head turned immediately. Your words hit harder than he'd expected.

"You really believe them?"

You glanced back toward the group. Walker looked exhausted. Ava looked irritated. Yelena looked heartbroken more than dangerous. Even Alexei seemed more confused than threatening.

"I don't know if I believe everything," you admitted quietly. "But I believe they're scared."

Bucky studied your face. You weren't guessing. You were reading people. You'd always been good at that. Better than he was. His jaw tightened. That was the problem.

If anyone else had said it, he would've ignored them. But you? He trusted your instincts more than his own. Which made this infinitely more complicated.

Behind you, Alexei pointed triumphantly at the ceiling. "Yes! That is exactly what I have been saying!"

Yelena didn't even look at him. "Please stop talking."

"No," Alexei replied. "You stop talking."

Before either of them could continue, Bucky’s phone vibrated in his jacket. The sharp ringtone echoed through the empty garage. He checked the screen. His expression shifted immediately.

"The plane lands in six minutes."

He answered without another word. "Yeah."

The voice on the other end came through hurried and breathless. "Bucky, I need your help"

Bucky’s entire posture shifted. His expression softened almost immediately. You recognized the voice before he spoke. Mel.

"What is it?" he asked, already more alert than before.

"Val has completely gone off the rails."

Gone was the nervous assistant from the gala. She sounded terrified.

"I'm talking about Project Sentry. It's not just a failure" Her breathing hitched. "It's dangerous."

Bucky frowned. "Project Sentry?"

At the words, every head in the garage lifted. Walker. Yelena. Ava. Alexei. All at once.

You caught Bucky rolling his eyes before they could say anything, but when he looked toward you, you only met his gaze with quiet expectation. Listen.

Mel continued. "She has way too much power in her hands. And this guy..." She lowered her voice. "...he's a disaster waiting to happen."

Bucky straightened. "What guy?"

A beat. "...Bob."

He blinked. "...Bob?"

Despite everything happening, you couldn't stop the tiny smile that tugged at your lips. Bucky noticed. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Not annoyed with you. Annoyed with himself.

From behind him came four voices at once. "Bob!"

Yelena sounded almost offended that he'd forgotten. Walker threw his head back. Ava sighed dramatically. Alexei pointed triumphantly toward the ceiling.

“We’re at the old Avengers building.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose.

Your smile disappeared. Bucky looked at you immediately. He knew what that building meant to you.

"The press will be here tomorrow morning," Mel rushed on. "Someone has to do something" Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. 

There was shouting somewhere behind her. Metal doors. Footsteps.

"Shit, I gotta go." A pause. Then, "But come, now, please." Another. “Bring anyone..." Her voice cracked. "...everyone you can."

The call disconnected. Silence settled over the garage.

Bucky slowly lowered the phone. His jaw worked once. Twice. He slipped the device back into his pocket but didn't move. Didn't speak.

Behind him, the group waited. No jokes. No sarcasm. Even Walker stayed quiet.

He looked over at the four people still tied up in front of him. A few minutes ago they'd been suspects. Now, they might be the only people who knew what Valentina was about to unleash.

"It's bad, Bucky." Yelena's voice cut through the silence. This time there wasn't any sarcasm. No challenge. Just certainty.

His eyes met yours.  You recognized the look immediately. He wasn't asking for permission. He was asking whether your instincts still matched his.

Three years ago he would've made the decision alone. Now, he wanted to know what you saw. You held his gaze.

"It's worth the risk." A small smile followed. "Worth the shot."

For another long moment he simply stood there. Then he nodded once. Decision made.

He walked toward the grease pit.

Ava frowned. "...Hang on. What are you doing?"

Bucky crouched beside the restraints, already undoing the first knot. "I'm letting you go." He didn't look up. "Because you're coming with me."

She blinked. "...Why?"

Alexei gasped dramatically. "For the glory!"

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh my God."

Bucky ignored them. "You know Valentina." He pulled another restraint loose. "She has this thing out there. People are going to get hurt.”

"And we need to stop her." Another knot came undone. "And you're going to help me."

Yelena frowned. "...Us?"

You folded your arms. "What? You got somewhere else to be?"

That earned the smallest laugh from Ava. Even Walker's mouth twitched.

Yelena wasn't smiling. "I think you've got the wrong people."

Bucky finally stood. "No." His voice had gone quieter. 

The garage settled into silence again.

"Look, I've been where you are." His gaze moved from Walker, to Ava, to Yelena, finally resting on Alexei. " You can run, but it won't get you far." His expression hardened. "Sooner or later, it'll catch up to you. And when it does, it'll be too late."

You saw it then. The Winter Soldier. Hydra. The notebook. Steve. You. Every mistake he'd ever survived.

"So you can do something about it." He shrugged faintly. "Do it now,” His eyes dropped for just a second. “or live with it forever."

No one spoke. Yelena looked down at the floor. The exhaustion on her face wasn't physical anymore. It was years old.

You recognized it. It looked painfully familiar.

Finally she let out a long breath. "...We stop Val." She looked up. "And we save Bob."

Walker stared at the ground another second before nodding. "...Yeah."

Ava sighed dramatically. "Guess I'm doing this too."

Then came Alexei. He threw both fists into the air despite the rope still dangling from one wrist. "YES!"

Yelena closed her eyes in embarrassment. You couldn't help it. A laugh escaped before you could stop it. The sound echoed around the garage.

Bucky looked over instinctively. There it was again. That laugh. The one he'd quietly missed for three years. You caught him looking. He looked away almost immediately. Trying, and failing, to hide the tiny smile threatening the corner of his mouth.

You wandered over while the others untangled themselves. "So..." You lowered your voice. "You sure about this?"

He glanced toward the newly assembled disaster unfolding behind you. Walker was already arguing with Alexei. Ava was threatening to leave. Yelena looked like she regretted every decision she'd ever made.

Bucky sighed. "...Not even a little."

You laughed. "I thought you were the optimistic one now."

"I am." He looked back at the group. "I'm just also realistic."

You followed his gaze. "...This is going to be an interesting bunch."

"That's one word for it." He adjusted the sleeve over his vibranium arm before looking back at you. "You ready?"

You smiled. "I was born ready."

He held your gaze for a heartbeat longer than he meant to. Something warm settled quietly in his chest. Three years ago, he would've walked into this mission alone.

Now, before he moved, he'd made sure you were beside him. He wasn't entirely sure when that had become important. Only that it had.

And somehow, it already felt a little less impossible with you standing there.

The private hangar had become strangely quiet.

One by one, engines roared to life before fading into the distance as jets disappeared into the morning sky.

The rest of the team moved almost automatically. Walker and Ava loaded equipment into the cargo van. Alexei loudly insisted someone's bag was too heavy before immediately dropping it himself. Bucky disappeared beneath the raised hood, checking the engine with the kind of focus that only came from needing his hands occupied.

Everyone had found something to do. Everyone except Yelena. She stood alone near the open hangar doors. Watching airplanes leave. Like she wasn't really seeing them.

You noticed her while sliding another magazine into your holster. For a moment, you debated leaving her alone.

Sometimes grief wanted company. Sometimes it wanted silence. You decided to let her choose.

Your footsteps echoed softly across the concrete. "Hey."

She glanced over. "...Hey."

You smiled gently. "I realized we never actually introduced ourselves."

She let out the faintest huff of amusement. "I suppose not."

You extended your hand. "I'm Allison."

She looked at it for a second before shaking it. "Yelena."

"I know."

A tiny smile appeared. "So Natasha told you about me?"

You laughed quietly. "Oh..." You looked toward the runway. "She told me just enough to make me curious."

Yelena smiled despite herself. "That sounds like her."

"She had a habit of answering questions you never asked, while somehow avoiding the one you did."

Yelena laughed. A real one. Only for a second. Then it disappeared. Almost immediately.

You watched the smile fade from her face. It reminded you of someone trying to breathe through a wave. 

"I'm really sorry."

The words came quietly. Not rehearsed. Not polite. Just honest.

Yelena looked back toward the runway. "Yeah." A long pause. "Me too."

Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It simply existed.

Eventually, Yelena broke it.

"I finally got her back." Her voice remained fixed somewhere far away. "And then..." She shook her head. "...that was it."

You looked down at your hands. "I don't know what that's like."

She turned slightly.

"But..." You swallowed. "I know what it feels like when the world keeps moving after yours stops."

She looked at you. Really looked. Not for pity. For truth. "You lost someone."

You nodded. "My brother." Another pause. "And Natasha." Your voice softened. "She was family too."

Yelena nodded slowly. "How'd you do it?"

You smiled sadly. "I wish I had an answer."

Another jet thundered overhead. You watched it disappear into the clouds.

"You won't ever get over it."

Yelena sighed. "...That sounds awful."

"It is." You laughed.

The honesty of it caught her completely off guard. She laughed too. Short. Surprised.

Across the hangar, Bucky instinctively looked up. Not because anything was wrong. Because he'd heard you laugh.

He found the two of you standing near the runway. For a moment, he simply watched. There it was again. That thing you did.

You had a way of finding the loneliest person in the room. Then somehow convincing them they weren't standing there alone anymore.

He wasn't sure how you did it. He only knew you'd done the same thing for him.

Alexei followed Bucky's gaze. "What?"

Bucky looked away almost immediately. "...Nothing."

Alexei smiled knowingly. "Mhm."

Back by the runway, Yelena wiped quickly beneath one eye. "I hate this."

"I know."

"I keep thinking..." She laughed bitterly. "...I'm doing okay. And then somebody says her name."

You nodded. "Or you hear a song."

She looked over.

"Or smell something. Or see someone who walks like them." Another pause. "Grief isn't really one feeling." You looked out across the runway. "It's a thousand tiny reminders spread across the rest of your life."

Yelena's shoulders finally relaxed. Not because she felt better. Because for the first time, someone wasn't trying to fix her. They were simply willing to stand beside her.

"I used to think..." You smiled faintly. "...that remembering hurt because I was doing something wrong."

You looked toward the sky. "Now, I think it hurts because they mattered."

Silence settled again. This time, it felt gentler.

Yelena nodded almost imperceptibly. "Natasha must have really liked you."

You smiled. "I hope so."

A tiny grin tugged at Yelena's lips. "She'd also tell me not to admit that."

You laughed. "That definitely sounds like Nat."

Yelena offered you a small smile. Not a happy one. Just... lighter. Like, for a few minutes, she'd been allowed to set part of her grief down.

You returned it. Without saying anything, you gently rested your hand against her forearm. Just a light squeeze. A quiet reminder.

You weren't trying to fix her. Only reminding her that she wasn't standing there alone anymore.

Yelena glanced down at your hand before looking back at you. "...Thank you."

You shook your head. "You don't have to thank me." You smiled. "I don't think anyone should have to miss someone by themselves."

Walker called from across the hangar. "We're burning daylight."

The spell quietly broke. One by one, everyone drifted back toward the waiting cargo van.

Walker climbed into the rear cargo compartment first, tossing his duffel toward one corner before settling onto one of the bench seats. Ava followed, climbing in beside him.

You adjusted the strap of your bag and instinctively moved to climb in after them.

"No." Bucky's voice came before you reached the door.

The single word echoed louder than he'd intended. Everyone looked at him. Walker. Ava. Alexei. Even Yelena. 

Bucky blinked. Apparently realizing he'd said it out loud.

"...I mean..." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've been riding in the back the whole trip."

He gestured toward the front passenger seat. "...Ride up front."

There wasn't much explanation after that. He simply turned back toward the driver's door as though the conversation had already ended.

You looked between Walker and Ava. Ava only shrugged.

Walker, however, Walker wore the most infuriatingly smug expression you'd ever seen. The kind that said: Called it.

You narrowed your eyes. "...Don't."

He folded his arms. "What?"

"You know exactly what."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

His grin widened. "So..." He leaned back against the bench. "...Coworkers, huh?"

You groaned. "Oh, shut up, Walker."

He laughed. Not mockingly. Just...Satisfied.

You pointed a warning finger at him as you climbed back down. "If I hear one more word—"

"You won't." He held up both hands innocently. "I'm done." A beat. "...Mostly."

You rolled your eyes so dramatically it made Ava laugh.

She looked between the two of you. "...What am I missing?"

Walker watched Bucky climb into the driver's seat. Then watched you walk around toward the passenger side without questioning it.

A knowing smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "The three of us..." He shrugged. "...We've got history."

Ava frowned. "That's not an answer."

"No." Walker looked out the windshield. "It isn't." 

The cargo van rumbled across the New York highway, kicking dust into the afternoon sun. The seating arrangement had been decided almost entirely by necessity.

Bucky drove. Alexei had claimed the passenger seat before anyone else could argue otherwise, insisting he needed to "navigate," despite openly admitting he had no idea where they were going.

That left you squeezed between them on the worn bench seat, a laptop balanced across your knees while satellite maps, blueprints, and Mel's last known location filled the screen.

Behind you, Chaos. Pure chaos. Yelena had somehow turned the ride into a show-and-tell.

"...And then," she announced proudly, pulling a small widow bite from somewhere beneath her jacket, "I have these."

Walker leaned forward immediately. "I remember those."

"They're Widow blades."

"They're good."

"They're excellent." She produced another pistol. "And then..." She held it up triumphantly. "...my nineteen."

Walker nodded with genuine appreciation. "Forty-five caliber." He pointed. "Long barrel."

Ava glanced over from the opposite bench. "...Wow."

Yelena looked back at Walker. "It's big."

Walker nodded. "It is."

"It's long." A beat. Yelena tilted her head. "...What about your hat?"

Walker frowned. "My hat? My helmet?"

"Whatever."

Walker scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, I think it's cool. You like it?"

Yelena asked with complete sincerity. "Do you like it?"

"...Yeah. I think it's pretty sweet."

She shrugged. "Then cool."

Walker smiled despite himself. "...Thanks."

Across from them, Ava looked out the window. "I can't believe this is my life."

The front of the van wasn't much quieter. Mostly because Alexei refused to let silence exist. "So..." He looked across you toward Bucky.

"What serum did you get?"

Bucky didn't look away from the road. "I don't know. The standard Hydra one."

Alexei nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Fancy." He tapped his own chest proudly. "Mine? Soviet recreation. Not quite as elegant. But..." He grinned. "...still very good."

Bucky hummed noncommittally. 

Alexei pointed enthusiastically between the two of them. "We're practically the same."

Bucky finally looked over. "...I don't think that's how that works."

Alexei ignored him. "We're both super soldiers. We're both impossibly handsome."

You laughed quietly. 

Bucky shot you a sideways glance. "You encouraging him?"

"I think he's encouraging himself."

Alexei beamed. "Exactly." He slapped Bucky’s shoulder. "We could co-lead this team."

Bucky deadpanned. "We don't have a team."

"We absolutely have a team."

"We've known each other for three hours."

"So?" Alexei spread his hands. "Family happens quickly."

Bucky rubbed a hand down his face. "We are very different people."

"A little." Alexei conceded. "But spiritually?" He pointed between them again. "Same."

Bucky looked forward again. "...Sure."

Alexei leaned back. "When you get tired, I drive."

"I don't get tired."

"I mean metaphorically." Alexei waved dismissively. "I do not actually want to drive."

That earned another laugh from you. Bucky smiled before he could stop himself. The sound was contagious. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed hearing you laugh until now. It filled the silence differently than anyone else's. Lighter. Warmer.

For a few miles, the road felt almost peaceful. 

Then Yelena's voice echoed from the back. "Are we there yet?"

You looked up from your laptop. "Almost."

Bucky answered at the exact same time. "Almost."

You both looked at each other. "...Jinx," you muttered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Before either of you could say anything else, Alexei leaned over both of you toward the back of the van and yelled at full volume, "ALMOST!"

You leaned your head back against the seat, laughing so hard your sides hurt.

Bucky glanced over for only a second. Worth it. Absolutely worth it.

For the first time in years, he realized he wasn't driving toward another mission. He was driving with people. And somehow, without anyone agreeing to it, they were already beginning to feel like a team.

Alexei gave Bucky an approving nod. He didn't return it. His attention stayed fixed on the road stretching endlessly ahead, both hands steady on the wheel.

Truthfully, the ride should have felt cramped. Three adults squeezed across one bench seat. Alexei took up more room than seemed physically possible.

You sat between them, tablet balanced on your lap, one shoulder brushing his every time the van bounced over another stretch of uneven pavement. 

He told himself not to think about it. The motorcycle had been different. That had been practical. Faster. Safer.

This...This was simply because there wasn't anywhere else to sit. So why was he suddenly aware every time your elbow bumped his? Why did he notice when you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear? Or when you quietly laughed at something Alexei said?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Focus.

Alexei, oblivious as ever, broke the silence. "Mr. Soldier..."

Bucky sighed quietly.

"What is the secret plan?"

"The plan?" Bucky repeated.

You looked up from the tablet. "...Actually..." You glanced between him and the windshield. "...what is the plan?"

The corner of Bucky mouth twitched. Before anyone could complain, his foot slammed onto the accelerator. The engine roared.

"What are you—"

The van burst through the glass entrance of the former Avengers Tower. Steel and shattered glass exploded around them. The impact threw everyone forward before the vehicle screeched to a stop inside the lobby.

Alarms immediately erupted. Gunfire followed.

"Move!"

Bucky was already out of the driver's seat before the first bullets reached the van. He ripped the door open and swung it between you and the incoming fire, the heavy metal panel ringing as rounds embedded themselves across its surface.

"Stay behind me!"

"I was planning on it!" You leaned around the edge of the door anyway, returning fire with practiced precision.

Bucky shook his head. Of course you did.

Alexei launched himself from the passenger side with an enthusiastic battle cry. "I LIKE THIS PLAN!" He disappeared into the firefight before anyone could respond.

Behind you, the cargo doors flew open. Yelena rolled onto the pavement, pistols already drawn. Walker followed with his shield raised. Ava phased through the side of the van as though the metal wasn't even there.

Within seconds, the lobby dissolved into controlled chaos. Each of you found your own opponent. No one gave orders. No one coordinated. And yet, somehow, everyone moved together.

You ducked beneath a rifle swing, caught the attacker's wrist, and used his momentum against him, sending him crashing into a marble column. Another rushed you from behind. A repulsor blast caught him square in the chest before he reached you.

Across the room, Walker bulldozed through two guards at once. Yelena danced through the firefight like she'd rehearsed it. Ava simply disappeared every time someone tried to hit her. Alexei laughed loud enough for the entire lobby to hear.

Bucky. Bucky couldn't stop looking for you. Not constantly. Just between punches. Between disarming another guard. Between every movement. A quick glance. There. She's okay. Another glance. Still standing. Good.

He hated that he kept doing it. He knew you could handle yourself. Hell, he'd seen you fight beside Avengers. Beside Steve. Beside Tony. Beside him.

You didn't need saving. That wasn't what this was. He just needed to know.

You knocked your last opponent to the polished floor with a sharp strike to the jaw. Breathing hard, you instinctively looked across the lobby.

Bucky had one of the security officers pinned against a concrete pillar, his vibranium hand wrapped firmly around the man's tactical vest. And even then, he was looking at you. Not the room. Not the exits. You.

Your eyes met across the chaos. A silent question. You alright? 

You gave the smallest nod. I'm okay.

Only then did he look away. Only then did he finish disarming the guard. Neither of you realized how natural that exchange had become. But Walker did. So did Yelena. Neither of them said a word.

A shrill tone echoed through the lobby. Then came Valentina's voice, calm and almost amused, spilling from the building's speakers. "Jesus, you guys."

Her sigh crackled through the intercom. "I just had that drywall installed." A beat. "I even left the door unlocked for you." Another. "So... come on up."

Silence settled over the lobby. The last security guard groaned somewhere behind Walker as Alexei tied him up with his own tactical vest.

No one celebrated. No one spoke.

One by one, the six of you drifted toward the elevators. It felt strange. Only a day ago, these people had been trying to kill one another. Now, they walked toward the same enemy.

The elevator was almost too full. Alexei complained the entire ride about "American elevators." Walker stood with his arms crossed. Ava leaned silently against the wall. Yelena absentmindedly spun one of her knives across her fingers. Bucky stood beside you. Not close enough to touch. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his shoulder. Neither of you said a word.

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open. Your breath caught. The penthouse. For one impossible second, your mind refused to accept what your eyes were seeing. This had once been home. Tony's music had filled these rooms. Movie nights. Mission briefings. Bruce covering every surface with equations. Natasha stealing food from the kitchen. Steve standing exactly where the skyline stretched behind him. You could almost hear them. Almost.

Now, the room echoed. Most of the furniture was gone. Wooden shipping crates lined the walls like forgotten storage. Equipment cases sat stacked where the living room used to be. 

The only new addition was an expensive marble bar tucked beside the windows overlooking Manhattan. Cold. Polished. Empty.

The tower wasn't dead. It had simply forgotten who it used to belong to. You swallowed hard.

Bucky noticed. Of course he did. He didn't say anything. He simply slowed his pace enough that you entered the room beside him instead of behind everyone else.

Valentina stood behind the bar uncorking a bottle of wine as though she'd invited friends over for dinner. She didn't even look up. "Isn't it funny?"

Wine poured into crystal. "I mean..." She gestured lazily around the penthouse. "All those monumental battles." She smiled to herself. "Right where you're standing."

She took a sip. "I honestly don't care much about the history." She looked around casually. "The building wasn't cheap. But..." A shrug. "...the optics are fantastic."

Only then did her eyes settle on you. Recognition flickered immediately. Satisfaction followed.

You saw it. She'd won. Not politically. Personally. She'd taken the last place that had ever truly belonged to your family. And she knew it.

Bucky shifted almost imperceptibly beside you. He'd felt the tension the moment her eyes landed on yours. He was already preparing to step in.

You beat him to it. You smiled. Calmly. "You know..." You glanced around the penthouse. "For someone who spent three years begging me to sell you this place..." Your eyes landed back on her. "...you've done a pretty terrible job with it."

Silence. Walker's lips twitched. Yelena outright smirked. Even Ava looked mildly impressed.

Valentina's smile tightened by a fraction. "There she is." Her voice remained pleasant. "I was wondering when Stark's sense of interior design would show up."

Bucky couldn't hide the corner of his own smile. There she was.

He stepped forward. "It's over, Val." His voice filled the room. "This ends today."

Valentina laughed softly. "Congressman Barnes." She leaned against the bar. "I'll admit, I never thought politics would work out for you." She tilted her head. "But not even half a term before you start breaking into federal property?"

She clicked her tongue. "Terrible optics."

The group spread naturally through the room. Walker drifted toward one exit. Ava another. Yelena disappeared into your blind spot without a sound. Alexei simply stood wherever there happened to be space.

Bucky remained directly in front of Valentina.

Walker rested a hand near his holster. "We're taking you in."

Valentina looked him up and down. "I don't think so..." She smiled. "Junior Varsity Captain America."

Walker stiffened. His jaw clenched. His hand instinctively moved toward his pistol.

"Walker." Your voice stopped him immediately.

He looked over. One word. That was all it took. His hand slowly dropped.

Valentina noticed. Interesting. She filed that away. Then turned elsewhere.

"Ava. Great to see you again.”

Ava didn't respond.

"Yelena." She smiled almost sympathetically. "You look awful. I remember you asking for a more public-facing role." Her smile widened. "I'm beginning to think it wouldn't have suited you."

Yelena didn't blink. "Eat shit, Val." A beat. "Where's Bob?"

Valentina sighed dramatically. "Oh, you really are adorable." Her eyes swept across the room. "I sent you into a vault to kill one another. And instead, you formed a team."

Finally she noticed Alexei. "...Who's Santa?"

Alexei puffed out his chest. "I am Alexei Shostakov." He spread his arms proudly. "The Red Guardian."

Valentina stared. "...Who?"

Alexei looked personally offended.

Bucky stepped in before Alexei could launch into a biography. "Where's Mel?"

For the first time, Valentina hesitated. Only a fraction. Enough for you to notice.

"Mel?" She nodded slowly. "Oh, Poor Mel. She developed a rather unfortunate loyalty problem."

She took another sip of wine. "But, I'm grateful she stayed just long enough..." Her smile widened. "...to lure all of you here."

Every instinct you had screamed. Trap. Bucky must have felt it too. He crossed the remaining distance in two quick strides, plucked the wine glass neatly from Valentina's hand, and reached to seize her wrist.

He never made contact. His arm stopped. Midair. Frozen. As though something unseen had caught it.

Bucky frowned. His vibranium fingers strained against an invisible force. Around the room, everyone tensed. You felt it too. Something, someone else, was in the penthouse with you.

"I'm not alone." She looked toward the upper level of the penthouse. "Robert."

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured. Everyone turned toward the grand staircase. A man emerged from the shadows. Blond hair. Broad shoulders. A gold suit unlike anything any of you had ever seen. A crimson cape draped behind him, catching the light with every step.

He looked manufactured. Like someone had asked a committee to design what the perfect superhero should look like.

Yelena's eyes widened. "Oh my God."

Bucky frowned. "...That's Bob?"

He asked the question aloud, but instinctively glanced toward you.

You'd spent years interviewing enhanced individuals, negotiating with governments, evaluating threats. You weren't looking at the suit. You were looking at his face. At the uncertainty hiding underneath it.

Ava answered quietly. "Yeah." She sighed. "He's changed... a little."

Valentina spread her arms proudly. "It is my great honor to introduce..." She smiled like someone unveiling the future. "...The Sentry."

Bob gave an awkward little wave. "...Hi, guys."

The silence lasted exactly one second. Alexei broke it. "...Cool name."

Five heads turned toward him simultaneously.

Alexei blinked. "...What?"

No one answered. 

Valentina ignored him. "All-powerful. Invincible. Stronger than every Avenger rolled into one." She stepped beside Bob like a campaign manager introducing her candidate. "And soon to be known as Earth's Mightiest Hero."

Ava tilted her head. "Have you dyed your hair?"

Bob scratched the back of his neck. "...Yeah, it wasn't really—"

"It was my idea," Valentina interrupted smoothly. She brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. "People love a classic hero."

You couldn't stop yourself. "Okay." You folded your arms. "I'll bite. What's the actual plan here?"

Valentina finally looked directly at you. There it was again. That calculating look. Except this time, her eyes flickered briefly toward Bucky.

He hadn't noticed he'd stepped closer to you. You hadn't either. Somehow, somewhere during the conversation, the two of you had naturally drifted until your shoulders were barely a foot apart.

Valentina noticed. Interesting.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Allison?" She sighed dramatically. "Oh, sweetheart. I always knew Tony had the brains." She tilted her head. "But at least you're rich."

A beat. "And..." Her eyes shifted toward Bucky. "...your new congressman boyfriend's pretty cute."

Bucky answered before your brain even processed the sentence. "I'm not her boyfriend."

The words came out almost too quickly. Too defensive. Too automatic.

You looked at him. He looked just as surprised he'd answered that fast.

Alexei looked between both of you. "...Could've fooled me."

Walker smirked. Yelena noticed everything.

You cleared your throat. "Can we focus?"

Valentina laughed. "Of course." She turned back toward Bob. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not planning to hurt innocent people." Her smile disappeared. "I'm planning to hurt you."

She began pacing slowly around the room. "The press will be here any minute. They'll witness Earth's newest hero..." She gestured toward Bob. "...defeating an exceptionally dangerous group of rogue enhanced operatives."

She looked almost euphoric. "Instant public trust. Instant political capital. No impeachment. No oversight. No accountability." She smiled. "I become untouchable."

Bucky took another step forward. "That's never happening."

Valentina didn't even look at him. "Sentry." Her voice became colder. "Your first mission." She pointed directly at your group. "Neutralize the criminals."

The room shifted. Yelena's batons snapped open with metallic clicks. Walker rested his hand on his pistol. Ava disappeared into a blur of anticipation. 

You instinctively reached for your sidearm. Your other thumb brushed against the bracelet Tony had built for you years ago. Funny. You'd only meant to wear it that night at Bucky’s apartment because it had matched your dress.

Now, it hummed faintly against your wrist. Ready.

Bob looked from one face to another. He didn't look excited. He looked terrified. "I..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt you guys."

His eyes settled on Yelena. "...Why don't you just surrender?"

Walker snorted. "No." He shook his head. "You don't want to do this, Bobby."

Bob's shoulders stiffened. "You can call me..." He swallowed. "...the Sentry."

Yelena took a careful step forward. Not threatening. Almost pleading. "Please. You don't have to listen to her."

Valentina smiled without looking at either of them. "Robert, they don't think you're good enough."

Yelena immediately shook her head. "That's not true. I know you. You can trust me.” 

Valentina's voice cut through hers like a knife. "They never believed in you."

Bob's breathing became shallower. His eyes darkened. He looked at Yelena. "I..." His voice was quieter now."...don't think that you do."

The room seemed to hold its breath. And for the first time, the air itself felt heavy. Not metaphorically. Physically. As though something immense had just awakened beneath Bob's skin.

Yelena's face fell. Not because Bob had rejected her. Because, for a second, she'd almost reached him.

You recognized that look immediately. Hope. Then heartbreak. Without meaning to, your eyes found Bucky. His had already found yours. Neither of you spoke. You didn't have to. You both saw it, the crack forming between Yelena and Bob. The same kind of crack that had once opened between you and Steve. Between you and Bucky.

Alexei shattered the silence. "Enough talking!" He threw his hands into the air dramatically. "No one messes with the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts!"

"...Thunderbolts?" Valentina blinked. "What?"

Alexei roared and charged. For one brief, ridiculous second, it almost looked like courage could outweigh impossible odds.

Bob barely moved. His eyes shifted. Gold. Pure molten gold. There was no anger in them. No excitement. Only overwhelming power. His fist came forward once. One punch. It landed squarely against Alexei's chest. The impact sounded less like flesh meeting flesh, and more like a wrecking ball striking concrete. Alexei disappeared. His body tore across the room, shattering tables before crashing into a marble column hard enough to fracture the stone. He ricocheted toward your side of the room.

"Bucky—" 

Bucky had already moved. His pistol cleared its holster before Alexei even hit the ground. The barrel snapped toward Bob.

Yelena immediately stepped between them. "No!" She held both hands out. "Wait!"

Too late. Walker's shield was already spinning through the air. Ava vanished. You drew your sidearm almost simultaneously with Bucky. Gunfire erupted. The room exploded into motion. Walker charged. Ava phased through the floor. You squeezed off three precise shots.

Bob watched them coming. Almost curiously. Then, time seemed to stop. The bullets froze. Hung in the air inches from his face. Bob frowned slightly. As if wondering what they were. Then he flicked two fingers. Every round reversed direction. Your stomach dropped.

You never reached for your bracelet. Never had time. 

Bucky did. He didn't think. Didn't hesitate. He threw himself directly in front of you. The bullets screamed toward his arm, and slammed harmlessly into metal. Walker had planted himself in front of both of you, shield raised. The impacts rang through the room like church bells.

You looked up just long enough to catch Walker's eye. A single grateful nod. 

Then, Bob lifted one hand. Invisible force detonated outward. The shockwave hit like a freight train. Walls cracked. Furniture exploded apart. 

Your body slammed backward into a support column hard enough to drive the air from your lungs.

Bucky and Walker weren't so lucky. They crashed together, tumbling across the marble floor in a tangled mess of limbs, shield, and metal arm.

Before anyone could recover, "Alexei, wait!" Yelena shouted.

Alexei ignored her completely. Blood stained the corner of his mouth. He grinned anyway. Knife in hand, he charged again. 

Bob didn't even acknowledge him. Alexei stabbed. Once. Twice. Three times. The blade never broke skin. It never even pierced the fabric. The knife simply stopped. Like reality itself refused to let it go any farther.

Bob sighed. Almost apologetically. Then Alexei lifted off the floor. Higher. Straight through the shattered windows. Your heart lurched.

Hundreds of feet below, Manhattan traffic continued as though nothing had happened. Alexei hung suspended over open air. Weightless. Helpless. Then Bob pulled him back inside with a flick of his wrist and hurled him across the penthouse. Alexei smashed through the stone bar, bottles exploding around him.

"Alexei!" Yelena screamed.

Ava struck next. She phased behind Bob. Exactly where she planned to be. Bob turned before she even materialized. His fist met her stomach the instant she became solid. The sound made you wince. Ava folded around the blow before crashing across the room.

Walker roared. He attacked with everything he had. The shield came down in a brutal arc. Bob caught it. With one hand. Walker pushed harder. Muscles straining. Bob looked almost... fascinated. Then his fingers tightened. Metal screamed. Walker’s new shield, the symbol that had survived aliens, gods, and Thanos, began folding inward beneath Bob's grip. 

Walker froze. "No..."

Bob released it. Walker went flying backward like he'd been hit by a truck. He landed hard near your feet.

You didn't wait. Nanotech surged across your body. Red and gold plates flowed over your arms, shoulders, and boots. Repulsors ignited. You launched into the air. Twin blasts streaked toward Bob.

He weaved between them effortlessly. Not fast. Simply without effort.

Behind him, Bucky attacked. Knife drawn. Metal arm leading.

For one glorious second you thought he'd caught him off guard. Bob caught the blade between two fingers. His other fist drove upward. It connected beneath Bucky’s jaw. The sound echoed through the room. Bucky disappeared upward, smashing through decorative beams before gravity reclaimed him.

"Bucky!" You abandoned your attack immediately. Repulsors flared as you dove after him. You caught him around the waist just before he struck the floor. The momentum still sent both of you crashing across polished marble.

Your shoulder burned. His entire body went limp for half a second. Before you could ask if he was alright, Walker crashed into both of you. Three bodies slid across the floor. None of you stayed down.

Yelena made her move. She wrapped herself around Bob's shoulders, legs locking around his neck. Widow's Bites discharged point-blank. Blue electricity exploded around his face.

"Stop it, Bob!" 

For the first time. Bob hesitated. His expression softened. Almost like he recognized her voice. 

Then Valentina spoke. "Robert."

Bob's face emptied again. He shot straight upward. Yelena still clinging to him. She slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crater concrete. Bob caught her before she fell.

For one hopeful heartbeat, then he tossed her aside like she weighed nothing. She hit the floor and didn't move.

"No!" You started toward her.

Bob moved first. His hand opened. Walker's pistol glowed bright orange. The steel melted in his grip before dripping harmlessly onto the marble. Ava suddenly clawed at her throat. Invisible pressure crushed her windpipe. She couldn't breathe.

You fired both repulsors simultaneously. The blast struck Bob square in the chest. Nothing. He looked at you. Actually looked. Then he punched. You never saw him cross the room. His fist connected with your ribs. Pain exploded through your body. The nanotech armor fractured instantly, red-and-gold plates dissolving into streams of particles as emergency systems failed. You slammed into the far wall hard enough to leave cracks, spiderwebbing through the stone.

Alexei crashed beside you moments later. The room finally fell silent. No one stood. Walker struggled to breathe. Ava coughed violently. Alexei groaned beneath broken marble. Yelena pushed herself onto one elbow.

And above all of you, Bob hovered. Not triumphant. Not angry. Just waiting. For someone to give him a reason to keep fighting. 

The realization was somehow even more terrifying.

Bob's gaze drifted across the room. Walker was struggling to his feet. Yelena could barely breathe. Alexei lay half-buried beneath shattered stone. Ava was still coughing, one hand pressed to her throat. Then his eyes settled on the only person still not with the group. Bucky.

Bucky slowly pushed himself upright. He rolled one shoulder. Winced. Then reached for the zipper of his leather jacket.

Without a word, he peeled it from his shoulders and let it slip from his fingers. The worn leather hit the marble floor with a soft thud.

Something inside your chest tightened. You'd seen him do that before. Munich. Latvia. New York. Louisiana.

At the time, you'd thought it was habit. Now, you understood. It was his version of rolling up his sleeves. His quiet way of saying—This is where I stand.

The black henley stretched across broad shoulders marked by old scars and newer bruises alike. The fabric clung to the powerful lines of muscles built through decades of survival rather than vanity.

His vibranium arm caught the afternoon light, silver gleaming against the dust hanging in the ruined lobby.

For one absurd, completely inappropriate heartbeat, your breath caught.

God. He was...

You almost laughed at yourself. Of all the moments. Of all the places. Your brain chose now to notice just how unfairly handsome Bucky Barnes actually was.

Not polished. Not movie-star handsome. Real. Strong. Solid.

The kind of man who looked like he belonged in old black-and-white photographs with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and grease on his hands.

The kind of man your grandmother would've called dangerously charming.

Then the thought vanished almost as quickly as it came. Because he looked toward Bob. And stepped forward. Without hesitation. Without asking if anyone else would. Without looking back to see whether someone might stop him.

You'd seen heroes do that before. Steve. Tony. Natasha. Each time, they'd walked toward danger with the same quiet certainty. Not because they wanted to die. Because someone else deserved the chance to live.

Your chest ached. Bucky wasn't Captain America. He never wanted to be. He wasn't trying to prove anything. There were no cameras. No speeches. No shield. No applause waiting for him if he survived.

Just someone who needed saving. And somehow, that made it even braver.

You watched the set of his shoulders. The calm in his breathing. The way he instinctively placed himself between everyone else and whatever came next.

As though protecting people had become so deeply woven into who he was. He no longer knew how not to.

Your heart stumbled. Not with fear. Not this time. 

Recognition. Somewhere between the opened doors, blanket on the plane, the quiet conversations in Louisiana, the laughter in his apartment, and this moment…Something inside you had changed.

You had spent months convincing yourself that what you felt was gratitude. Trust. Friendship. That caring for him simply came from everything you'd survived together.

Standing here, watching him prepare to sacrifice himself for people he'd known less than a day...

You couldn't lie to yourself anymore. It wasn't just admiration. It wasn't just affection. You were falling in love with Bucky Barnes.

The realization arrived so quietly it almost frightened you. Not because it felt wrong. Because it felt undeniably right.

Your fingers curled tightly at your sides. A single thought echoed louder than the chaos surrounding you. Please...Don't make me lose you too.

Bucky didn't look back. He simply charged. His first punch connected squarely with Bob's jaw. The crack echoed through the penthouse. Nothing. Bucky hit him again. Then again. Left hook. Right cross. Elbow. Metal fist. Every strike carried the weight of decades of training. Every strike landed cleanly.

Bob barely moved. His expression wasn't angry. It was almost confused. Amazed.  Like he couldn't understand why Bucky was still trying.

Bucky refused to stop. He kept swinging. Not because he thought he could beat him. Because everyone else needed another second. Another chance. Another breath.

Finally, Bob caught the vibranium arm. One hand. Effortlessly.

The room filled with the awful hiss of strained machinery. Steam escaped between the plates of Wakandan metal. Gold light spread beneath the seams.

"No..." You took an involuntary step forward.

Bucky gritted his teeth. The servos screamed. Bob squeezed harder. Metal groaned. The entire arm shuddered violently before, CLANK. The vibranium arm tore free from its socket.

Bucky staggered. For the briefest instant, he looked, small.

Bob turned the arm over curiously, almost fascinated by it. Then, with terrifying casualness, he swung it. The metal fist slammed into Bucky’s face. His body flew across the penthouse before crashing to the floor beside you.

The arm landed seconds later with a heavy metallic clang.

"Bucky!" You were moving before you realized it.

You slid across the marble and snatched up the vibranium arm before it could skid any farther. Walker and Alexei reached Bucky almost simultaneously. Walker hooked an arm beneath his shoulders, hauling him upright. Alexei grabbed his other side. Neither man said a word. There wasn't time.

Walker bent to retrieve what remained of his shield. The once-perfect circle was now warped inward where Bob had crushed it with his bare hand.

Yelena and Ava were already forcing the elevator doors open. "Move!"

The six of you stumbled toward it together. Bucky leaned heavily against the wall once inside, breathing harder than he'd admit. 

The elevator doors began sliding shut. Just before they closed, Valentina stepped back into view, perfectly composed. As though nothing extraordinary had happened.

She smiled. "I'm so glad you all got a glimpse of the future before your retirement."

She glanced toward the windows. "The camera crews are assembling." Then her eyes lifted to Bob. "Finish the job, Robert."

The doors sealed shut. None of you spoke. The elevator descended. Everyone breathed. No one relaxed.

Above them, Bob remained exactly where he'd been. He looked toward the closed elevator doors. Then back at Valentina. His brow furrowed.

"...Finish the job?" His voice was quiet. Confused. "No."

Valentina blinked. "...What?"

Bob looked genuinely puzzled. "They're not a threat to me." A pause. "So why would I kill them?"

For the first time all evening, Valentina's confidence faltered.

"You need to do what I tell you, Robert."

Bob tilted his head. "...Why?"

The single word echoed through the empty penthouse. And for the first time, Valentina didn't immediately have an answer.

The elevator doors opened with a metallic chime. Fresh air hit all of you at once. No one spoke. For several long seconds, everyone simply stood there, trying to remember how to breathe.

Bucky was the first to move. He walked a few steps away from the building before finally stopping, flexing the empty sleeve where his vibranium arm should have been.

Without saying anything, he turned toward you. His eyes dropped to the arm resting in your hands. You walked over and held it out. He accepted it carefully, almost reverently, before locking the socket back into place. The familiar clicks echoed softly as the mechanisms aligned. The metal fingers flexed once. Twice. Working again.

When he looked up, your eyes met. You okay?

His expression answered before he ever nodded. I'm still standing.

You offered the smallest smile. 

His shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly. You?

I'm here. 

Nothing else needed to be said. Neither of you realized how practiced those silent conversations had become. The others certainly didn't. They were too busy trying to process what had just happened upstairs.

Alexei was the first to break the silence. "Okay!" He clapped his hands together. "We need a new plan."

Walker let out a humorless laugh. "No." He stared up at the tower. "No new plans." He pointed toward the penthouse. "That thing is too powerful."

Alexei refused to be discouraged. "So we regroup." He gestured broadly. "We think. There has to be a way to stop him."

Walker shook his head. "We're not regrouping." He looked around at everyone. "This isn't even..." He searched for the word. "...a team."

"Of course we're a team!" Alexei protested immediately. "We're the Thunderbolts!"

Bucky frowned. "I still don't know what that means."

You nodded beside him. "...Honestly, neither do I."

Ava pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's the name of Yelena's childhood soccer team."

Alexei pointed triumphantly. "Exactly!"

Walker looked like he regretted surviving.

Alexei continued anyway. "We go somewhere. We discuss."

Walker stared at him. "Discuss what?"

"We regroup. We make another plan. We go back."

Walker held up what remained of his shield. The once-perfect circle now resembled a folded piece of scrap metal. "He turned my shield..." He looked down at it in disbelief. "...into a taco."

Despite everything, you snorted. Bucky coughed suspiciously into his fist.

Walker looked offended. "Seriously? I'm grieving."

Yelena finally exploded. "Oh my God!" She threw both hands into the air. "Stop. There is no us. There is no we." Her voice cracked. "Bob became..." She searched for the word. "...whatever that is. And there is absolutely nothing any of you can do about it."

Ava folded her arms. "And what exactly did you do?" She stepped closer. "Because if I remember correctly, you got your ass kicked even worse than I did."

Yelena laughed once. A sharp, bitter sound. "Yeah. I suck. I'm terrible." She looked around the group. "We're all terrible." Then her eyes landed on Ava.

"You're not a hero." A pause. "Ava, you're not even a good person."

Ava blinked. "...Bitch."

Yelena shrugged. "See?"

Alexei stepped between them. "Easy..." He smiled hopefully. "Umnichka—"

Yelena rounded on him so fast he physically leaned backward. "Alexei, I am not your umnichka. You haven't called. You haven't visited. I haven't seen you in over a year and now suddenly we're family again?"

Alexei's smile disappeared. You winced.

Walker quietly cleared his throat. "Maybe..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...go a little easy on him."

Yelena whipped toward him. "Oh. So you're nice now?"

Walker sighed. "Is it my turn?"

She didn't hesitate. "You already know you're a piece of trash, Walker." A beat. "So does your family."

The words landed harder than any punch Bob had thrown. Walker didn't argue. He couldn't. He simply looked away. "...Jesus."

Yelena laughed bitterly. "There." She spread her arms toward all of you. "We're all losers." Another pause. "And we lost." She turned and walked away. No dramatic exit. No tears. Just gone.

Ava watched her disappear. Then, without a word, her body dissolved into a ripple of shifting light. She vanished too.

Walker paced across the sidewalk, staring at the ruined shield in his hands like he no longer recognized it.

Alexei remained rooted where he stood, watching the direction Yelena had gone. His shoulders seemed smaller somehow. Quieter. Before he took off after her. 

You stayed where you were beside Bucky. Neither of you spoke. There wasn't anything to say.

You looked at the scattered group. An assassin who had lost her sister. A father who had lost his daughter. A soldier who had lost his family. A woman who had spent her life being used. A man who had lost himself. None of them trusted each other. Most of them barely trusted themselves.

"They're hurting," you said quietly. 

Bucky followed your gaze. "I know."

There wasn't judgment in his voice. Only recognition. Because once, not so long ago, he had looked exactly like them. And for the first time since all of this had started, he wondered if maybe they weren't looking at six strangers anymore.

Maybe, they were looking at six people who simply hadn't realized yet they were all carrying the same wound.

By the time you made it back home, the city had settled into its quieter rhythm.

Traffic still hummed below your apartment windows. Neon signs reflected off rain-darkened pavement. Somewhere down the block, a saxophone echoed between brick buildings.

Normally, after nights like tonight, you would've gone straight upstairs. Taken your heels off. Answered emails until two in the morning. Pretended you weren't thinking.

Instead, you drove another thirty minutes. You weren't entirely sure why. Maybe because the conversation had ended too soon. Maybe because you hadn't realized how much you'd missed simply talking to him.

Maybe because, after three years of carefully measured distance, you didn't want tonight to end yet.

You exited the car outside his building. Stared at the entrance for a long moment.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself. You climbed out anyway.

The elevator ride suddenly felt much longer than it should have. Outside his apartment, your finger hovered over the doorbell. You pressed it once. Immediately you wondered if this had been a terrible idea. 

Before you could convince yourself to leave, the door opened. 

Bucky blinked. "...Hey." 

The surprise on his face softened almost immediately into something warmer. "I wasn't expecting company."

You smiled. "I gathered."

His eyes lingered for just a second longer than they probably should have. "...This is a nice surprise."

He said it so naturally that he didn't seem to realize he'd admitted it out loud.

Your stomach did a tiny, inconvenient flip. "...Good."

He wore gray sweatpants and a white ribbed tank top, his dark hair slightly damp as though he'd showered not long ago.

Your eyes instinctively dropped. His left sleeve hung empty. His vibranium arm rested on a counter near the kitchen island.

For a split second, seeing him without it felt strangely intimate. Like you'd accidentally walked into a room you weren't supposed to see.

He noticed where your eyes had gone. "I take it off at home."

You looked back up quickly. "Sorry."

"What?"

"I wasn't trying to stare."

"I've been stared at for ninety years." His mouth lifted. "I'm getting pretty good at telling the difference."

You blinked. "There are different kinds?"

"Oh." He leaned casually against the doorway. "There's horrified." He held up one finger. "Curious." Another. "And then..." His eyebrow lifted. "...whatever that was."

Heat immediately climbed into your cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?"

"No." 

He smiled. "...Good."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I was hoping you weren't horrified."

Silence. Then his expression shifted. Concern. "Everything okay?"

You realized how strange this must look. Showing up unannounced. Late. At his apartment.

"Yeah." You laughed awkwardly. "Nothing's wrong."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

He waited. 

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I just..."

God, this sounded ridiculous now that you had to say it out loud. "I figured..."

He tilted his head.

"...you'd probably spend the rest of the night reading those packets."

He sighed. "I was."

"I brought beer." You lifted the paper bag. "And emergency pizza."

He stared. Then laughed. "You drove all the way to Brooklyn..." He looked from the pizza back to you. "...for me?"

The question came quietly. Almost surprised.

You shrugged. "I figured congressional paperwork looked lonely."

He smiled. "I think it was me you were worried about."

You tried to look innocent. "I plead the Fifth."

"So..." His grin widened. "...You were."

He stepped aside. "I don't think anyone's ever shown up at my apartment with pizza before."

"They should."

"They should." He agreed with you, "...Makes me feel popular."

You smiled. "Don't get used to it."

"No?"

"No. You'll start expecting visitors."

He tilted his head. "I was actually thinking...I could."

Your heart skipped.

"...Expect you."

Silence. Then— He cleared his throat. "...To bring pizza."

You laughed. "There it is."

"What?"

"The save."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhm."

He gestured inside. "Come on."

His apartment surprised you. You'd expected less personality. Instead, it felt unmistakably Bucky. Simple. Clean. Warm.

Bookshelves lined one wall, packed tighter than seemed possible with history books, political biographies, philosophy texts, psychology, veterans' memoirs, and several novels with folded corners.

A record player sat beside the window. Three potted plants somehow managed to stay alive. The couch looked genuinely lived in.

He watched you quietly as you took everything in. The books. The records. The plants.

"...You're judging me."

You looked over. "I am not."

"You've been looking around for two minutes."

"I'm observing."

"Oh." He folded his arms. "We're still calling it that?"

You smiled. "I learned from the best."

He laughed. "I regret teaching you."

"No. You really don't."

"...No."

The kitchen looked like a crime scene. Folders. Congressional reports. Legal briefs. Handwritten notes. An open pizza box. Half a bottle of hot sauce. And somehow, pizza grease decorating at least four government documents.

Bucky followed your gaze. "I already know." He reached for the nearest folder. "I'm cleaning it."

"You've got marinara on federal paperwork."

"It builds character."

"It builds evidence."

He groaned. "I knew letting you in here was a mistake."

You laughed as you rescued one of the folders before another grease stain claimed it.

He moved beside you, hurriedly stacking papers into something resembling organized chaos. "I swear it wasn't like this earlier."

"Oh? So the paperwork attacked first?"

"It multiplied."

You looked around dramatically. "I've seen Hydra bases with better filing systems."

"Low blow."

"You walked right into it."

"I invited you in."

"You did."

"...I was hoping you'd be nicer."

You smiled sweetly. "You hoped wrong."

His shoulder bumped yours as he reached for another folder. Neither of you moved.

"You know..." He kept sorting papers. "...Most people pretend to be impressed when they come over."

"Should I compliment the marinara?"

"I was thinking the record collection."

"Oh." You nodded thoughtfully. "It is impressive."

His eyebrow lifted. "...Really?"

"No." You smiled. "The marinara's doing most of the work."

He laughed again. "You enjoy this."

"Making fun of you? Mhm." You looked up. "More than I probably should."

He looked at you. Really looked. "Good." 

The answer was almost too quick. Because… "I enjoy making you smile."

Silence. The room suddenly felt much smaller.

He blinked. Apparently just realizing he'd said that aloud. "That's..." He scratched the back of his neck. "Probably not something coworkers say."

Your smile softened. "Probably not." You looked back up from the document in your hand. “Good thing we've never been very good at being just coworkers."

Neither of you spoke. Neither corrected it. Because somewhere along the way, that had quietly become true.

A comfortable silence settled over the apartment as another hour quietly slipped away. Neither of you noticed. Somewhere along the way, the investigation had become secondary.

You sat cross-legged atop one of the barstools at the kitchen island while Bucky leaned against the opposite side of the counter, sleeves pushed to his forearms, another congressional report spread open between the two of you.

Empty beer bottles slowly collected beside highlighted pages.

Every few minutes one of you leaned closer. "What do you think about this?"

"He contradicts himself."

"No." You tapped another paragraph. "Look at the dates."

His eyes followed your finger. "...You're right."

"I know."

He looked up with a small grin. "You enjoy this a little too much."

"I earned it."

"You did."

Another page. Another note. Another quiet debate.

"This contract shouldn't exist."

"It shouldn't."

"...Unless." You reached across him, grabbing another report before he could. "Unless they rewrote the committee after the election."

Bucky paused. His eyes moved between the documents. Then back to you.

"...How'd you catch that?"

You shrugged. "I've spent too many years reading government paperwork."

"No." He shook his head. "You read people."

"What?"

"You don't just read reports." He tapped the folder lightly. "You read who's lying."

Heat crept into your cheeks. "I don't know about that."

"I do." He answered so matter-of-factly it almost caught you off guard. "I've watched you do it."

The compliment lingered between you longer than either of you expected.

You smiled down at the paperwork. "...Careful."

"What?"

"You keep complimenting me."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm making an observation."

You laughed. "There he is."

"There who is?"

"Mr. Hotshot Barnes."

He groaned softly. "You’re still on about that?"

"Yes" You laughed again.

He found himself smiling simply because you were.

At some point he noticed you subtly shifting on the stool. Crossing your legs. Uncrossing them. Adjusting the fabric of your evening gown for what had to be the tenth time.

He glanced toward the clock. Then back to you. "...Hang on."

You looked up. "What?"

He disappeared down the hallway before you could ask another question.

A minute later he returned carrying a folded gray hoodie and a pair of navy sweatpants.

He held them out. "You look uncomfortable."

You blinked. "I—"

He looked at the dress. "I can't imagine that's any fun to sit in for three hours."

You looked down at yourself. The fitted gown suddenly felt much tighter now that he'd mentioned it.

"I don't exactly keep spare clothes in my car."

"I figured." He gave the bundle a small shake. "They're clean."

You smiled. "...You're lending me your clothes?"

"They'll survive."

"You realize these are going to swallow me."

He looked you over thoughtfully. A slow smile spread across his face. "...Probably."

You narrowed your eyes. "Was that the point?"

"No." A beat. "...Mostly."

You laughed. "I thought gentlemen weren't supposed to tease women."

"We're also supposed to make sure they're comfortable."

He answered it so naturally that neither of you realized how old-fashioned it sounded until after he'd finished.

He blinked. "That came out sounding older than I meant."

You smiled. "I kind of liked it."

His expression softened. "...Yeah?"

"Yeah." You took the clothes from his hands. Your fingers brushed briefly against his. "Thank you."

He nodded once. "My room's down the hall."

You paused. "...You're just going to trust me in there?"

He folded his arms. "I've seen you read my classified files."

“And?”

"I’m hoping you won’t snoop"

"I won’t."

Another one of those easy smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that."

You disappeared down the hallway.

The apartment suddenly became very quiet. Bucky found himself looking toward the closed bedroom door. He smiled to himself before shaking his head. Ridiculous.

In the 40s, he had invited girls into his apartment without thinking twice. One woman carrying pizza somehow made him nervous.

A few minutes later you stepped back into the kitchen. The sleeves of his hoodie disappeared past your hands. The sweatpants pooled around your ankles until you'd rolled them twice. You looked impossibly comfortable.

Bucky stared for half a second too long. 

"...Well." You looked down at yourself. 

"What?" He looked innocent. 

"I was right."

"About what?"

"They're too big." You laughed. "I warned you."

"No." He smiled. "I think they suit you."

Your heart stumbled. "You flirting again, Barnes?"

He rested both hands against the counter. This time, he didn't deny it. 

A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...Maybe a little."

For a moment, neither of you looked away.

Then you smiled. "...Good."

Something warm settled quietly between the two of you. Not the nervous uncertainty that had followed his accidental flirting in Louisiana. This was different.

Bucky Barnes wasn't stumbling into old habits anymore. He was choosing them. And for the first time in a very long time, he found himself hoping they made one particular woman smile.

Outside, Brooklyn had fallen almost completely silent. Inside, it felt strangely peaceful. Then, Bucky’s phone vibrated across the countertop.

Unknown Number. The room went quiet. He frowned. Nobody with good news ever called this late.

He glanced at you once before answering. "Barnes."

Silence. Then, his expression changed. His voice softened.

"...Hello?" A familiar voice came through the speaker. "It's Mel."

Bucky straightened immediately. "Mel."

The surprise in his voice made you look up from the papers.

"Hi."

You quietly slid off the stool and wandered closer, careful not to interrupt.

"I'm glad you called."

Mel hesitated. "I know you're still...new to Washington. I wanted maybe..." She laughed awkwardly. "To network."

A smile tugged at the corner of Bucky's mouth. "Right. Network."

You folded your arms, already amused. Congressman Barnes. Terrible liar.

"So, uh," she asked gently, "how do you feel about your new job?"

Another pause.

He looked around his apartment. At the congressional reports. The cold pizza. The beer bottles. Then at you.

"Oh..." He sighed dramatically. "It’s great. I love it."

You snorted quietly. He shot you a look. You pretended to study one of the folders instead.

The conversation relaxed. 

Then Mel grew quiet again. "It's not ancient history, you know? I was in high school when the aliens came. And the Avengers.”

Bucky leaned against the counter. "High school, huh?" He paused, “I was like 90” 

This earned a laugh from Mel. You smiled too. 

"It's a bit strange. That it's all over now, isn't it?" Her voice softened. “I mean, the Avengers are gone. No one else is coming to save the day.” 

You watched Bucky's expression change. A long silence followed. The apartment felt suddenly smaller. Bucky looked toward the window overlooking Brooklyn.

"Maybe..." He spoke carefully. "we could be the people who are coming.”

You watched him as he said it. He wasn't trying to recruit her. He believed it.

"Mel." His voice became quieter. "Just come and testify against her."

Her voice was quiet too, “You really must not know my boss.”

"We'll protect you."

You saw it the instant everything shifted. Mel didn't answer. Not right away.

When she finally spoke, her voice sounded almost sad. "Can you?"

Bucky frowned. "What?"

"You say we'll protect you." Another pause. "Is that coming from the rookie congressman who hasn’t gotten a bill passed?"

His jaw tightened.

"Or..." The silence lingered. "...the Winter Soldier?"

The words landed like a punch. You saw him freeze. Not because she'd called him that. Because she was asking him something he'd spent years asking himself. Who are you now?

He swallowed. “Come on, Mel. Just give me something.” 

The room fell silent. Bucky closed his eyes for half a second. Mel didn't respond.

Instead, she asked something unexpected. "You can track my phone, can't you?"

Bucky blinked. "I..." He looked toward you instinctively. "...technically. But I don't do that. Not anymore."

The last two words carried decades of history. Not anymore.

Another silence. Then—

"Thank you, Congressman. Have a great night."

Click. The line went dead. The apartment became impossibly quiet.

Bucky slowly lowered the phone. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared at the dark screen as if the answer might somehow still be hiding there.

"I think..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "...I just lost her."

You watched him for a long moment. The Winter Soldier would've already been searching rooftops. Bucky simply looked defeated.

You stepped beside him. "No."

He looked over.

"You didn't."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

"I know." You nodded toward the phone still resting in his hand. "Because you're thinking like you."

"...I'm always thinking like me."

"No." A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "You're thinking like Bucky Barnes."

He looked even more confused. "...Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

"It is." You laughed softly. "But Mel doesn't know Bucky Barnes." Another pause. "She knows Congressman Barnes. The Winter Soldier."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

You folded your arms. "Think about everything she actually said."

He replayed the conversation silently. Then shook his head. "I told her I don't track people anymore."

"I know."

"...So why tell me to track her phone?"

You smiled. "There you go."

"What?"

"You almost got there."

He frowned harder. "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"The cryptic teacher thing."

You grinned. "It's fun."

"It isn't."

"It is."

He sighed dramatically. "You know..." He pointed toward you. "...you're impossible."

"And yet..." You shrugged innocently. "...you invited me in."

A reluctant smile appeared. "...Fair."

You reached over, gently tapping the phone in his hand. "Bucky."

His attention returned immediately.

"She didn't ask whether you could track her phone." You paused. "She told you..." Your smile softened. "...that you could."

The realization came slowly. Then all at once. 

His eyes widened. "...She wanted me to."

"Exactly."

"She couldn't ask directly."

"So she made sure you'd figure it out."

He looked down at the phone again. Then back at you. "...How do you always know what people mean?"

You smiled, "You know..." You laughed softly, shaking your head. "...you're lucky you're cute."

The words escaped before you had time to stop them.

Silence. Your own eyes widened. Did...Did I just say that?

Bucky stared. For exactly one heartbeat.

Then a slow grin spread across his face. "...Cute?"

You looked away immediately. "I meant—"

"Oh, no." His voice carried the faintest trace of old Brooklyn confidence. "I'm pretty sure I heard 'cute.'"

"I was talking about your personality."

"You've seen my personality."

"I have."

"And?"

You sighed dramatically. "...It's improving."

He laughed. "A minute ago I was cute."

"A minute ago you were confused." You tried to roll your eyes.

"I'm still confused."

"I know." You turned your attention back to a document you didn’t even know you still had. 

"You staying with cute?"

You looked back at him. His smile had become impossible to ignore.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't push your luck, Barnes."

He tilted his head. "So that's not a no."

You pointed toward the door to hide your own smile. "You're insufferable."

"And yet..." He reached for his keys. "...you still brought me pizza."

You couldn't help laughing. "You really are impossible."

"So I've been told." He slipped the phone into his pocket. His expression settled. Not into the Winter Soldier. Into Bucky. Confident. Certain.

He looked back at you. "Let's go save her."

You smiled. "There he is."

"What?"

"The guy she was hoping would figure it out."

He held the apartment door open for you without thinking. After you. The gesture was so automatic, so deeply ingrained, neither of you commented on it.

You smiled anyway as you stepped past him. Some habits, you thought, were worth keeping.

The door clicked shut behind you. Neither of you hesitated again.

Three years. Three years since the Flag Smashers. Three years since the blood on Steve Rogers' shield had forced the world to redefine what Captain America meant. Three years since Louisiana.

Some days it felt like a lifetime. Other days, you could still close your eyes and hear the water against the Wilsons' dock, feel the humid evening breeze, hear Sarah laughing from the kitchen while her boys chased Bucky around the yard asking if they could arm wrestle his metal arm.

Life had moved anyway. It always did.

Sam had carried the shield exactly the way everyone who truly knew him believed he would, with compassion first and conviction second. Somewhere along the way, the world had finally stopped asking whether he deserved to be Captain America and started asking what Captain America thought. The distinction mattered. It meant he'd earned it.

The Avengers, however, that was another story. There were fewer heroes now than there had been when you were twenty. Tony was gone. Natasha was gone. Steve...Steve had chosen another life.

Bruce disappeared into research more often than not. Clint had retired, for real this time, everyone hoped. Thor came and went like the weather. Wanda's fate remained uncertain. The world still had heroes.

It just didn't have a family anymore. Not the one you'd once known. Your own life had become quieter in different ways.

On paper, your career had never been stronger. Director of Enhanced Affairs Representative. Lead liaison between enhanced individuals, federal agencies, and congressional oversight committees.

Most weeks you split your time between Washington, New York, and whatever crisis decided it couldn't wait until Monday morning.

You managed Stark Industries' remaining government contracts, advised Senate committees on enhanced legislation, and, much to your own annoyance, had become one of the people senators actually listened to before making decisions involving superheroes.

It was the closest thing the government had ever had to someone both sides trusted. Tony probably would've laughed himself sick. Then, complained about the paperwork.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had become a recurring fixture in that world. Never for anything illegal. Never for anything you could actually challenge. Just always there.

Defense appropriations. Property acquisitions. Private security contracts. Closed-door committee meetings. She smiled too easily. Knew too much. And somehow always seemed to be standing exactly where history was about to happen.

You'd learned to pay attention whenever Valentina entered a room. Because she never wasted a visit.

Bucky Barnes had kept his promise, too. You still caught yourself smiling whenever another article appeared.

CONGRESSMAN JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES ELECTED

BARNES INTRODUCES PTSD REFORM BILL FOR VETERANS

FORMER AVENGER ADVOCATES FOR ENHANCED CIVIL RIGHTS

No one, not even Bucky, if the expression in his victory interview had been any indication, had expected him to win. Yet somehow politics suited him. Not because he enjoyed it. Because every bill he wrote felt like another apology to the people governments had failed.

Veterans. Refugees. The people of Brooklyn. Victims of experimentation. Enhanced individuals.

He wasn't trying to change history. He was trying to make sure another Winter Soldier could never exist.

You admired him for that. More than he'd probably ever know. The irony was, for all the articles, interviews, birthdays, holidays, and congratulatory texts, the two of you had quietly become strangers again. 

Not completely. There were messages.

Always answered. Always kind. Always safe. Never conversations. Never phone calls. Never, How are you, really?

Three years ago, you'd stood beside each other through firefights, funerals, and impossible choices. Now you measured your relationship in typed sentences and punctuation marks.

You had spent a long time convincing yourself the distance was his choice. Eventually, you admitted the truth. It was yours, too.

After Louisiana, you'd forgiven Bucky. You truly had. But forgiveness wasn't the same thing as trust. The hardest part wasn't that he'd known Steve planned to stay.

It was that every laugh you'd shared that summer, every late-night conversation, every quiet moment when you'd started believing you knew him, had happened while he carried a truth you didn't.

You understood why he'd kept it. You even believed him. That didn't stop it from hurting.

So you had done what people always did when they were afraid of losing something they hadn't realized mattered. You stepped back first. Not because you wanted to. Because distance felt safer than finding out whether the two of you could ever become what you'd almost started to be.

And if you were honest, there was another reason. Somewhere between Louisiana and now, Bucky Barnes had stopped being Steve Rogers' best friend.

He had simply become Bucky. And that realization had frightened you more than heartbreak ever had.

You never returned his call. Not the next morning. Not the following week. Eventually, enough time passed that returning it would've felt stranger than letting it remain unanswered.

So neither of you ever brought it up again.

Instead, your relationship quietly changed into something neither of you had intended. You didn't stop talking. You just stopped talking often.

The first text came on Christmas. Merry Christmas, Barnes.

A few minutes later your phone buzzed. You too, Stark. Try not to argue with anyone over politics today.

You smiled despite yourself.

Birthdays followed. Happy Birthday.

His reply came almost immediately. How do you know my birthday?

You rolled your eyes before typing back. It's literally engraved on a plaque in a museum.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared.

Then—Right. Forgot about that.

You laughed loud enough that Morgan looked up from the living room and asked Pepper what was funny.

The conversations never lasted more than a few messages. Congratulations when he won his election. A short Saw your interview. Hope you're doing okay.

Sometimes he'd send a newspaper clipping after one of your Senate briefings with nothing more than: Saw this. Nice work.

You'd answer: Thanks, Congressman.

Always "Congressman." Never James. Never Bucky. He never corrected you. Neither of you crossed whatever invisible line had formed between Louisiana and now. Not because either of you wanted distance. Because neither of you knew what existed on the other side of it.

The betrayal had never truly disappeared. Neither had the affection. They had simply learned to live beside one another.

For three years, Bucky Barnes existed mostly through television screens. Campaign speeches playing quietly in airport lounges while you waited for delayed flights. News interviews running in the background of Senate offices. Articles forwarded by coworkers. "Your friend is on television again."

He wasn't your friend. He never was. Was he?

Sometimes you caught yourself stopping whatever you were doing whenever his face appeared on screen. He looked older. Not physically. Lighter.

The permanent tension around his shoulders had eased. He smiled more during interviews now. Still awkwardly. Still like he wasn't convinced anyone actually wanted to hear him speak. But he smiled.

You were proud of him. Painfully proud. Sometimes, embarrassingly so. You found yourself defending him in meetings before anyone had even criticized him. "Congressman Barnes has already proposed legislation addressing that." "Actually, his office published research on the veterans reform bill last month."

You knew his committee assignments. You knew which bills he was sponsoring. You knew which veterans' organizations he'd visited that week. You realized one afternoon that you knew his congressional schedule better than your own.

That had been concerning. Because despite all of that, you still hadn't seen him. Not once. Not in person. Not in three years.

You missed him. Not dramatically. Not in the aching way you'd missed Steve. This was quieter. You missed his dry comments that usually caught you off guard. The smell of cedar and aftershave whenever he'd quietly appeared beside you. The way he'd somehow notice you across crowded rooms before anyone else did.

The doors he always held open. The chairs he always pulled out without thinking. The tiny acts of consideration he'd performed so naturally that you'd barely noticed them until they were gone.

Nobody had done those things since. You hadn't realized how much space he'd quietly occupied in your life until that space became empty. And perhaps that was the cruelest part.

You'd spent so long convincing yourself you couldn't let anyone close after Steve that you never noticed someone had already slipped through the cracks.

Not with grand declarations. Not with impossible promises. Just by showing up. Again. And again.

Until one day he wasn't simply Steve Rogers' best friend anymore. He was Bucky.  And somehow… that frightened you even more than heartbreak ever had.

So you buried yourself in work. It was easier. Government contracts. Congressional briefings. Enhanced Affairs. Stark Properties. There was always another crisis waiting. Always another meeting. Always another stack of files.

Which was exactly how Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had become such a constant presence in your life. She had an uncanny ability to appear wherever politics, private industry, and enhanced affairs collided. Military contracts. Private defense initiatives. Oversight committees. Property acquisitions. Always smiling. Always perfectly prepared. Always one step ahead of everyone else.

The most exhausting project between the two of you had been the sale of Avengers Tower. Even now, you hated calling it that. To the public it had become just another Manhattan skyscraper. To you, it had once been home. The Avengers Tower hadn't simply housed heroes. It had held birthdays. Movie nights. Arguments that somehow ended in shawarma at two in the morning. Tony's workshop humming through the night. Bruce asleep over research. Natasha making food in the kitchen. Steve pretending he didn't know who kept leaving dishes in the sink. It had been alive.

Now it was only steel and glass. Pepper had been the one to finally convince you. "Buildings aren't people. They're just places."

She was right. You knew she was. But that hadn't stopped your hand from trembling when you signed the paperwork transferring ownership. One signature. A few hours of legal documents. And just like that the last physical home the Avengers had ever shared belonged to Valentina.

You told yourself it was only a building. You weren't entirely sure you believed it.

Back at the Capitol, you heard his name before you ever saw him. It started as a ripple through the hallway. "Congressman Barnes!" "Representative Barnes!" "Sir, one question!"

The corridor filled almost instantly with cameras, microphones, and reporters jockeying for position. Curious staffers slowed their pace, hoping to overhear something worth repeating before the hearing began.

You stopped walking. For a heartbeat, you considered turning around. Three years suddenly didn't feel very long. 

Then the crowd shifted. And there he was. Bucky. Your breath caught before you could stop it. He looked older. Not old. Settled.

His dark hair had grown longer than the last time you'd seen him beneath the Louisiana sun, brushed neatly away from his face instead of tucked beneath his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes. The sharp navy suit fit him almost too well, tailored enough that it looked like he'd finally accepted people expected him to wear one.

Gone were the combat boots. Gone were the leather jackets. Gone was the man who constantly looked ready for the next fight.

Standing in front of you was Congressman James Buchanan Barnes. And somehow, he still looked exactly like himself.

"...Representative Barnes," a reporter called, shoving a microphone toward him. "As a freshman congressman, any comment regarding today's impeachment hearing?"

Bucky didn't even hesitate. "Well," he began evenly, "I'm not on the impeachment committee, but the allegations are concerning. Very concerning."

You bit the inside of your cheek. There it was. That careful politician cadence. Measured. Diplomatic. Every answer somehow saying everything while committing to almost nothing.

"My constituents in Brooklyn deserve transparency," he continued. "So does the American people. I'm confident the committee will get to the bottom of this concerning matter."

Another question. Another practiced answer. Then—"Thank you, everybody."

He nodded politely before slipping away from the reporters with surprising efficiency. You couldn't help smiling. He looked absolutely miserable. 

Politics hadn't changed Bucky Barnes nearly as much as everyone believed. He still looked like he'd rather fight three super soldiers than answer one press conference. He adjusted the cuff of his jacket as he turned toward the courtroom.

That's when he saw you. His footsteps stopped. Just stopped. For one suspended second neither of you moved. Three years disappeared. Louisiana. The dock. The sunset. The unanswered phone call. Every birthday message. Every conversation left unfinished. Every word unsaid.

His expression softened before he caught himself.

You reached him first. "Congressman Barnes."

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "Ms. Stark." Professional. Careful.

He extended his hand. Not because he wanted to. Because he wasn't sure he was allowed to do anything else.

You looked down at it for the briefest moment. Then slipped your hand into his. His grip was steady. Confident. Warmer than you remembered. He'd learned how to shake hands like a politician. Somehow, that hurt.

"It's good to see you," he said. The words sounded rehearsed. Like he'd imagined saying them a hundred different ways and chosen the safest one.

"You too."

Neither of you let go immediately. Neither of you realized it until the pause had already become awkward. You both released at exactly the same time.

"So..." he said, clearing his throat. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I figured watching from home would've been less entertaining."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward. "There'll probably be fewer thrown chairs than Congress usually promises."

"There goes my afternoon plans."

He laughed. Just once. Quiet. The sound settled something inside your chest you hadn't realized had been tight for years. He hadn't changed. Not really.

"You and Director de Fontaine work together, don't you?" he asked.

"Work adjacent."

His smile widened. "That's politician language."

"I've been spending too much time around senators."

"And?"

You glanced toward the courtroom doors. "I sign contracts with her." You lowered your voice. "I don't trust her."

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Neither did he.

"I've been trying to figure out what she's building," you admitted. "Everything she does is technically legal."

"But..."

"But people like Valentina don't buy half of Manhattan because they like the skyline."

He nodded once. "I've had the same feeling."

The courtroom doors opened. Bucky stepped aside immediately. "After you, Ms. Stark."

The title landed harder than you expected. Ms. Stark. Not your name. Not... anything else. Just another government official entering another government hearing.

You smiled anyway. "Thank you, Congressman."

You hated yourself a little for saying it. He did too.

You found seats beside one another without discussing it. Not because it was planned. Because somehow it still felt natural.

The hearing began. People spoke. Reporters scribbled notes. Someone behind you coughed. You barely heard any of it. Instead, you noticed the inches between your elbows. The careful way Bucky rested both hands together in his lap instead of on the shared armrest. How he shifted slightly farther toward the aisle every time one of you accidentally leaned the same direction.

Like he was terrified of invading your space.

Three years ago, he would've nudged your shoulder with a sarcastic comment before the hearing even started. Now he acted like touching your sleeve by accident might cost him the privilege of sitting beside you.

Your chest tightened. Maybe…maybe this was your fault. Maybe you'd pushed him away so completely that he genuinely believed he wasn't welcome anymore. The thought hurt far more than you expected.

Bucky wasn't listening to the hearing either. He couldn't. Not when you were sitting beside him. Three years. Three years of television interviews. Birthday texts. Christmas messages. Congratulations. Safe conversations. Professional conversations. Enough to convince himself you'd both moved on.

Enough to convince himself that whatever had existed between you during that summer had belonged to another lifetime.

Then you'd smiled at him in the hallway. And suddenly, he remembered everything.

The sound of your laugh drifting across the Wilsons' dock. You teasing him for snoring. The way you'd always checked to make sure he was eating. How effortlessly you'd treated Bucky Barnes like someone worth knowing instead of someone worth forgiving.

You'd done something Steve never could. You'd made him believe he could become someone beyond the Winter Soldier. Beyond guilt. Beyond survival.

Congress hadn't been Steve's idea. It had been yours. Not directly. But every time he'd wondered whether he belonged anywhere...he'd remembered your voice. "They wouldn't be voting for the Winter Soldier. They'd be voting for Bucky Barnes."

So he ran. And somehow...he won. He'd spent the last year wanting to tell you that.

Instead, he stared straight ahead, pretending to pay attention to testimony he wouldn't remember tomorrow.

Because after everything, after the secrets, after Louisiana, after the distance, you were sitting beside him again. Close enough that if he moved his hand an inch, he'd brush yours. He didn't. He wasn't sure he'd earned that yet.

For now, being beside you again was enough.

The courtroom settled into an uneasy silence as the final members of Congress took their seats. Rows of reporters lined the back wall, notebooks already open, camera lenses trained toward the witness table.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine looked remarkably comfortable for someone facing impeachment. Almost, too comfortable.

She crossed one leg over the other, smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the sleeve of her cream-colored suit, and offered the committee the same polite smile she'd worn in every meeting you'd ever attended with her.

It was the smile that bothered you most. Not arrogant. Certain. As though she'd already read the ending before everyone else had reached the first chapter.

The chairman adjusted the papers before him. "Today," Congressman Gary began, "this committee convenes to examine the conduct of Director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Articles of impeachment have been filed before this body, and should they be approved, you will be permanently removed from your office."

He looked up. "Please state your name for the record."

"Valentina Allegra de Fontaine."

"Ahem... Miss Fontaine—"

She smiled. "No." The correction came pleasantly enough that half the room almost missed it. "It's de Fontaine." She folded her hands neatly atop the table. "You remembered Secretary of Defense's title." Her eyes drifted toward another committee member. "I imagine you'd also remember that his name isn't Secretary Fence."

A few reporters hid smiles. Others immediately began typing. Even now, she controlled the room.

The chairman cleared his throat. "Director de Fontaine. You currently serve as Director of the CIA."

"I do."

"And prior to that you chaired the board of the OXE Group."

"I did."

He flipped another page. "Despite relinquishing formal control, you continue serving in an advisory capacity while OXE maintains financial interests in numerous offshore laboratories—facilities linked to allegations of illegal enhanced-human experimentation."

The room grew quieter.

"How do you respond to those accusations?"

Valentina didn't answer immediately. She almost looked disappointed. "As fascinating as conspiracy theories can be," she said lightly, "I really don't have time for rumors." She stood. "I do, however, have time for reality."

Her voice carried effortlessly through the chamber.

"Reality is that the world has changed." She paced slowly before the committee. "There are governments developing technologies beyond our own." She looked directly toward the press gallery. "Weapons capable of destabilizing entire nations." Another step. "Enhanced individuals operating without oversight." She stopped. "And unless anyone has forgotten..." A faint smile. "Our last President became a giant red monster."

Uneasy laughter rippled through the gallery.

"You all watched him nearly level this very city." She let the silence linger. 

You felt your stomach tighten. 

Valentina continued. "The Avengers aren't walking through that door."

Something inside your chest clenched.

"They're gone." The words echoed through the room with unsettling certainty. "We no longer have reliable heroes." She looked directly at Congress. "So the responsibility falls to us." Her hand swept across the chamber. "To government. Everything I've authorized, whether through OXE or the CIA, has served one purpose. Keeping the American people alive."

You swallowed. Beside you, Bucky hadn't moved. Not once. But out of the corner of your eye you noticed his left hand.

His vibranium fingers had curled so tightly into a fist that the servos inside his wrist emitted the faintest mechanical whine. His jaw was locked. Eyes fixed straight ahead. Not on Valentina. On the words.

The Avengers aren't walking through that door.

For three years, he'd been helping rebuild a government because there were no Avengers left to rebuild the world. You understood exactly why those words hurt.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your hand moved. Warm fingers rested lightly over cool vibranium. Not squeezing. Not asking. Simply, there.

Bucky froze. The mechanical tension in his hand eased almost instantly beneath your touch. One finger relaxed. Then another. Finally the fist disappeared altogether.

Only then did you realize what you'd done. Your eyes met. Neither of you spoke. There wasn't anything to say. You quietly withdrew your hand back into your lap.

Bucky looked forward again, but the corner of his mouth softened. Just enough that only someone watching as closely as you would've noticed.

The chairman broke the silence. "Order."

Valentina returned to her seat as though nothing had happened. "I categorically reject these articles of impeachment." Her smile returned. "This investigation is nothing more than political theater." She folded her hands once again. "And I assure you..." She looked directly at every committee member in turn. "...you may search every filing cabinet, every laboratory, every nook and cranny you can imagine. You'll find nothing."

The confidence in her voice wasn't defensive. It was calculated. Like someone who already knew exactly where no one was looking.

“Then you don't mind if this committee...continues this investigation?” Congressman Gary pushed. 

Valentina reached for her glass of water, “Oh, of course not.” 

You heard the faint falter in her voice.  You felt Bucky glance toward you. This time you looked first. Neither of you needed to say it aloud. Something wasn't right. Not illegal. Not yet. But wrong.

The hearing adjourned nearly an hour later, dissolving into the familiar chaos of congressional politics. Reporters surged toward committee members. Staffers hurried through the aisles carrying stacks of documents. Lobbyists gathered in polished little circles, already spinning the outcome before anyone else could.

You answered questions. Signed two briefing packets. Promised three follow-up meetings you were already dreading. By the time you finally escaped into the marble hallway, Bucky was gone. Or so you thought.

You stepped through the courthouse doors into the afternoon sun and spotted him standing alone at the top of the steps. Hands in his pockets. Tie loosened.

Watching Washington move around him instead of participating in it. For the first time all day, he looked less like Congressman Barnes. And more like Bucky.

You barely made it through the courthouse doors before another microphone appeared in front of you. "Ms. Stark!"

You forced another polite smile. One more question. Always one more question.

The reporter hurried to keep pace beside you. "Director de Fontaine just claimed the Avengers aren't coming anymore—that there are no Avengers left." He lifted the microphone. "You were one. Do you agree?"

The question caught somewhere beneath your ribs. For a split second you genuinely didn't know how to answer. Were you still an Avenger? Did that word even mean anything anymore?

Before you could decide—"Sorry."

A familiar voice cut cleanly through the crowd. "We've got somewhere to be."

Bucky stepped effortlessly between you and the cameras, one hand resting lightly against the middle of your back as he guided you through the cluster of reporters. "No more questions today."

Someone called after him. "Congressman Barnes!"

Another shouted your name. Neither of you looked back. Only once you'd disappeared into the quieter hallway leading toward the underground parking garage did he finally remove his hand.

The silence felt almost...comfortable. Almost.

"Thanks," you said.

He slipped both hands into his coat pockets.

"Washington?" You nodded. "It doesn't get easier."

"No." He glanced back toward the courthouse. "It just gets louder."

You laughed. The sound surprised both of you.

"So," you said, "how many times have you escaped reporters like that?"

"I've stopped counting."

"You looked suspiciously professional."

"I hated every second of it."

"I could tell."

"I've gotten good at pretending."

"I noticed."

Another smile. Another silence. Neither one of you seemed in a hurry to fill it. It reminded you of Louisiana. Except three years had settled carefully between every sentence.

Then at the same time--"Something's off about de Fontaine." "So..." 

Both of you stopped talking. Bucky blinked. You did too.

"...Sorry."

"You go."

"No, you."

You both laughed. Again. It felt easier this time.

You folded your arms. "I don't trust Valentina."

His expression immediately became serious.

"I've been trying to figure out what she's building." You continued walking. "Everything I've signed involving her has been legal. Which somehow makes it worse."

"Exactly."

You glanced toward him. "Military procurement. Private research. Property acquisitions. Defense funding. OXE. Every single piece makes sense on its own. But together, they're building toward something."

Bucky nodded slowly. "I've been seeing the same thing in Congress. Nothing you can actually accuse her of."

"No."

"But enough to keep you awake."

You looked at him. "I'm glad it's not just me."

"It isn't."

The parking garage came into view. Concrete. Cool air. Much quieter than the courthouse above. Bucky slowed.

"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've actually been meaning to ask you something."

You looked up. He suddenly looked less like Congressman Barnes. More like Bucky. The one who never quite knew what to do with his hands.

"The phone call." His voice was quieter now. "Three years ago." He couldn't quite meet your eyes. "I always wondered..." He exhaled. "...why you never called me back."

There it was. Three years. Reduced to one sentence.

You looked down at the concrete between your feet. "I wanted to."

He looked up.

"I picked up my phone more times than I can count." Your laugh held no humor. "I'd even type something."

"What happened?"

"I'd delete it. Every time." You searched for the words. "I wasn't angry." Not anymore. "I was..." You shook your head. "Hurt."

He nodded once. "I know."

"No." You looked at him. "I don't think you do."

He stayed quiet.

"I wasn't hurt because you knew." Your voice softened. "I was hurt because somewhere along the way..." You smiled sadly. "...you became important to me."

Bucky’s breathing caught.

"And suddenly I didn't know what our friendship had been." You looked away. "I started questioning every conversation we'd had that summer. Every joke. Every late-night talk. I kept wondering..." You swallowed. "'Was he looking at me knowing the whole time?'"

His face fell. "I know. I know. I asked myself that every day." The words came quickly now. "I should've told you. Maybe not that day. Maybe not the next. But sometime sooner than I wanted. I just..." His shoulders slumped. "I kept waiting for the right moment. And then too much time had passed. And after that..." He laughed bitterly. "I figured you hated me."

You stared at him. "You really thought that?"

"I would've." He shrugged helplessly. "If somebody hurt me like that."

You sighed. "I didn't hate you. I just..."

"You needed space." Bucky blurted, more for himself. 

"I needed to stop blaming the wrong person." You exhaled. 

He frowned. "What?"

You smiled sadly. "I spent so long trying to figure out who to blame for losing Steve that I picked the only person who was still there."

Bucky looked like someone had knocked the air from his lungs.

"I knew it wasn't your decision. I've always known. But knowing something and accepting it...They're different."

He nodded slowly. "I understand."

Silence settled again. Lighter this time. Not because everything had been fixed. Because everything had finally been said.

For the first time in years, neither of you was carrying it alone.

He glanced toward the garage exit. "So..." His smile returned, hesitant but genuine. "I'll see you at Fontaine's charity gala?"

You couldn't help yourself. "De Fontaine." You emphasized the syllable.

He groaned dramatically. “So, you’re still as insufferable”

“Always” 

He smiled. "I figured." He gestured toward the lower level where your car was parked. "Can I walk you to your car?"

You looked at him for a moment. Three years ago, you might have overthought the offer. Wondered what it meant. Wondered whether accepting would make things more complicated.

Today, it just felt familiar.

You smiled. "I'd like that."

Neither of you noticed that, for the first time in three years, you were walking beside each other instead of several careful steps apart. Neither of you reached for the other. But neither of you drifted away, either.

If you had paid closer attention to the invitation weeks ago, you never would have accepted it.

The realization didn't hit until your driver slowed beneath the familiar skyline. Your eyes lifted. Then stopped. Stark Tower. Or, what used to be Stark Tower.

The glowing "A" that had once crowned the building was gone, replaced by clean architectural lighting and discreet corporate branding. Glass panels reflected the Manhattan skyline exactly as they always had, but somehow the building looked colder now. Sterile. Like someone had taken a home and turned it into an investment.

You remained seated for another second after the car stopped.

Tony had built this place to bring people together. Now it hosted fundraisers for politicians. Funny how buildings survived people.

A valet opened your door. "Good evening, Ms. Stark."

You thanked him automatically. The words barely registered. As your heels clicked across the marble entrance, memories surfaced before you could stop them.

Tony yelling across the workshop because you'd touched something you definitely weren't supposed to. Natasha stealing strawberries from the kitchen. Bruce explaining radiation mechanics to a very confused Thor. Steve standing by the windows overlooking the city, waiting for you to finish work so the two of you could finally go home. Your chest tightened. Not today. You'd promised yourself this wasn't going to be one of those days.

You stepped inside. The lobby had changed almost beyond recognition. The Avengers' history had become branding, history, decorations.

The conference rooms were gone. The common living spaces had become elegant reception halls. Even the elevator interiors had been redesigned. Valentina hadn't simply bought the building. She'd erased everything that had made it a home. 

A server appeared beside you with a silver tray. "Champagne?"

You accepted a glass more for something to do with your hands than because you intended to drink it. Music drifted through the ballroom. Politicians. Military officials. Corporate executives. Lobbyists. Foreign diplomats.

Everyone smiling. Everyone pretending.

It was remarkable how quickly Washington and New York became the same room when enough money was involved.

You recognized almost everyone. Few of them were friends. Mostly people you'd learned to negotiate with.

You smiled. Shook hands. Accepted compliments. Answered the same questions. All while trying very hard not to think about the floor beneath your feet.

Then, something made you look up. Not instinct. Habit.

Someone was watching you. Your eyes found the second-floor balcony. He was already looking at you.

Bucky stood near the railing, one hand resting loosely against polished wood, another wrapped around an untouched glass of sparkling water. A charcoal suit replaced the leather jackets you had gotten used to seeing him in. His tie had already been loosened half an inch, as though even Congressman Barnes hadn't fully adjusted to formal events.

He looked comfortable. No. He looked like someone pretending to be comfortable. The difference mattered.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Three years. Hundreds of texts. One unanswered phone call. One awkward conversation outside a courthouse.

And somehow, seeing him across a crowded room made the past three years disappear.

Bucky smiled first. Small. Almost hesitant.

Your shoulders relaxed before you even realized they'd been tense. He noticed. Of course he noticed. He always had.

From the balcony, Bucky watched you accept another handshake. He'd seen you the second you'd stepped through the doors. Actually, before that. He'd recognized your car pulling into the sidewalk outside. Old habits.

His attention had tracked you automatically. He noticed the brief pause outside the entrance. The way your eyes lingered on the building. The tiny breath you took before walking inside. Nobody else would've recognized what that meant. He did.

Because he understood what you lived inside these walls years ago. Back when laughter echoed through the halls instead of campaign donations. Back when the Tower had felt alive.

He wondered if coming here hurt. Judging by the look on your face, it did.

Without thinking, he set his untouched drink onto a passing server's tray. Then headed downstairs.

You looked up just as he reached the last step. "Congressman Barnes."

There it was again. Professional. Safe.

He smiled despite himself. "Ms. Stark."

He stopped in front of you. For one ridiculous second, he forgot every prepared sentence he'd come up with while walking downstairs. Instead, the truth escaped. "You look..."

You glanced down at your dress. "Miserable?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Out of place?" you offered. You gestured around the ballroom. "Like someone who realized a little too late where this thing was being held?"

Bucky couldn't help smiling. "I was going to say..." His eyes met yours. "...beautiful."

Silence. Real silence. Not awkward. Just unexpected.

Heat crept into your cheeks so quickly you almost looked away. Beautiful? You hadn't felt beautiful all day. You'd nearly changed dresses three times. Spent twenty minutes convincing yourself not to cancel. Had cried, just a little, while fastening your earrings.

Yet somehow, he'd looked at you like none of that existed.

Bucky looked equally surprised. The words had simply come out. No rehearsing. No overthinking. Just honesty.

He realized then that it had become dangerously easy to tell you the truth.

You smiled. Softly. "Thank you." Your eyes wandered over him now. Actually looking. "You clean up pretty well."

He chuckled. "I'd hope so."

"No..." You tilted your head thoughtfully. "I like the hair."

Almost reflexively, he reached up, brushing a hand through it. "It getting too long?"

"I didn't say that."

"So it's...okay?"

"I think it suits you, Bucky."

He smiled. Not because of the compliment. Because, for the first time in years, you hadn't called him James. Or Congressman Barnes. Or Representative. Just—"Bucky."

It was such a small thing. One word. Yet somehow, it sounded like forgiveness. And for the first time since Louisiana, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, they weren't starting over. They were simply finding their way back.

Bucky rubbed a hand through the longer hair at the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. "I figured I'd try something different."

"It works." You tilted your head, studying him for another second. "It fits the whole serious Congressman image."

He laughed under his breath. "That's the nicest way anyone's ever called me old."

"I didn't say old."

"You implied it."

"I implied professional."

"Worse."

You laughed, and somehow the sound dissolved the last bit of awkwardness between you. It surprised both of you.

For three years, every conversation had lived behind a phone screen, carefully measured, politely distant. Birthday texts. Holiday messages. Congratulations after elections. Articles forwarded without explanation. Neither of you had ever stopped reaching out. You had simply stopped reaching.

Yet standing here now, teasing each other as naturally as you used to, it felt almost unfair how quickly the distance disappeared. As though it had only been waiting for someone to ignore it. 

Neither of you mentioned it. Neither of you wanted to risk breaking whatever fragile thing had quietly returned between you.

Bucky followed your gaze around the ballroom. "So..." He nodded toward the towering glass walls. "You really sold the place."

Your smile faded. "...Yeah." You looked around slowly. "I fought it for months." You laughed once, shaking your head. "Actually... I think Pepper would've said years."

He stayed quiet, letting you continue.

"Every email from Valentina sat unanswered. Every contract ended up at the bottom of a pile." You exhaled softly. "Eventually I realized I wasn't protecting the Tower."

Your eyes lingered on the grand staircase where the Avengers logo still overlooked the lobby, now more decoration than a symbol of what you represented.  "I was protecting a memory."

Bucky looked around the room.

"It doesn't feel like home anymore." You whispered. "It isn't." 

The words carried more relief than sadness. "I haven't stepped foot in here since Tony died." You smiled faintly. "I almost turned the invitation down the second I saw the address."

"I would've." He confessed. 

You looked at him. "You came."

"I have committee obligations. " He argued.

"Liar."

His mouth twitched. "...Mostly, I wanted to see what she’d turn it into. Maybe I am a bit of a gossip."

That earned another laugh.

He looked around again, taking in the polished marble, the expensive artwork, the unfamiliar furniture. "Maybe..." he said quietly, "...that's not the worst thing."

You raised an eyebrow.

"When I first got to Washington, I hated it." A smile settled across his face. "But eventually..." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Being somewhere new forced me to stop asking who I used to be."

You listened carefully.

"I couldn't be the Winter Soldier there." His eyes drifted toward the ballroom. "I couldn't even really be Steve's best friend." He shrugged. "So I had to figure out who Bucky Barnes was when nobody had an answer."

You didn't interrupt.

"I think..." he admitted, "...politics helped with that."

"You believe in it."

"I believe in helping people." He smiled. "Turns out Congress is just another way of doing that."

You looked at him for a long moment. "It suits you."

His eyes met yours. "And you?"

You looked around the ballroom. Around the people. The politicians. The military officers. The endless conversations you'd spent years navigating.

"I don't know." It came out quieter than you intended. "I keep waiting to feel like I've arrived somewhere."

"You have."

You frowned.

He continued before you could argue. "You spend every day trying to keep people from tearing each other apart." His voice remained calm. "You bridge governments and people. You protect people who don't always deserve protecting. And somehow..." A small smile appeared. "...you still believe most people are trying to do the right thing."

You looked away. "I don't know if all that's true."

"I do." The certainty in his voice caught you off guard. "I think you're a lot closer to figuring yourself out than you think."

For just a second, the noise of the gala disappeared. You weren't sure anyone had ever said something that kind to you without wanting something in return.

Before you could answer, Bucky's attention shifted over your shoulder. His expression changed instantly. Professional. Focused.

He gave your shoulder the lightest bump with his own. "You can thank me later."

"For what?"

He nodded toward the far end of the ballroom. Valentina, still entertaining donors with an effortless smile, had just been intercepted by Congressman Gary Anderson. The congressman's expression was far less pleasant.

"You wanted something suspicious." Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly. "I think we just found it."

Without another word, the two of you drifted through the crowd, not as Congressman Barnes and the government's Enhanced Affairs Liaison...

But as partners following the same instinct. Again.

Across the ballroom, Valentina moved through her guests with effortless precision, never lingering with one person for too long before drifting to the next. Every laugh sounded practiced. Every smile landed at exactly the right moment. She stopped beside a glass display case.

Inside rested a pair of battered Chitauri restraints, warped from years of damage, the alien metal still carrying faint blue etchings beneath the lights. She gestured toward them as another wealthy donor leaned closer.

"They're genuine," Valentina said warmly. "Recovered after the Battle of New York by one of the city's first responders."

The guest's eyes widened. "Really?"

Valentina nodded. "They came with the building." Her fingers brushed lightly against the glass. "I thought they deserved a better home than another government warehouse."

She smiled, almost sentimental. "A reminder that people fall..." She paused just long enough for everyone listening to lean in. "...but we always find a way to rebuild."

The donor chuckled appreciatively. "That's beautiful."

"It photographs well too," Valentina replied with a wink.

Before the guest could answer, another voice cut through the conversation. 

"That's certainly...inspiring."

Valentina's smile never faltered as she turned. Congressman Gary Anderson. Of course.

She clasped her hands together. "Congressman. I'm delighted you came."

"I couldn't miss it. It's a beautiful fake event." His gaze swept across the ballroom. "The First Responders Family Fund." He gave a slow nod. "That's cute."

"Cute? Oh."

"This won’t sway the votes enough to save your ass. " He looked around at the towering chandeliers. 

A few nearby guests suddenly became very interested in their champagne.

For the first time, the smile around Valentina’s eyes tightened. Barely. "Mel?" Her assistant appeared immediately. "Would you check on Mr. Whitmore? I think he was looking for me."

Mel understood the dismissal without another word and gently guided the donor away, leaving the two politicians alone.

Gary waited until they were out of earshot. "This gaudy Avengers propaganda..." He gestured toward the Chitauri restraints. "...reeks of desperation."

Valentina folded her hands behind her back. "If you really believed that, Congressman..." she said softly, "...you wouldn't have bothered showing up. You're scared because your investigation into my office came up clean."

His expression hardened. “Spotlessly clean. Almost as if someone frantically got rid of all the evidence.”

She laughed. "Or..." She leaned forward just enough to lower her voice. “as if someone was incredibly innocent. Without evidence, this impeachment process is running on borrowed time.” 

The silence stretched between them. Then— "Excuse me!"

A photographer appeared almost out of nowhere. "One picture?"

Both politicians smiled instantly. As though the previous thirty seconds had never happened. Flash. Another. Flash. Valentina rested a friendly hand against Gary's arm. Gary smiled for the cameras like an old colleague.

Anyone looking from across the ballroom would have believed they were allies.

Only after the photographer thanked them did they step apart. "Have a lovely evening, Congressman." "You too, Director."

They walked away in opposite directions.

You watched the exchange beside Bucky, neither of you speaking immediately. Bucky watched the exchange unfold from beside you, though at some point he'd stopped paying attention to Valentina altogether.

Instead, he found himself watching you. The way your brows drew together whenever something caught your attention. The little smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth every time Congressman Gary landed another jab. The quiet laugh you tried, and failed, to hide behind your champagne glass.

It was familiar. Comfortably familiar. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed seeing it in person.

When Gary and Valentina finally drifted apart, you let out a small breath through your nose. "Well," you said, lifting your glass, "there's my entertainment for the evening."

This time he did laugh. "Washington grows on you."

"I'm not sure that's something to brag about."

"It's not."

You smiled at each other. Not awkwardly. Not cautiously. Just normally. The realization caught him off guard.

For the first time since Louisiana, this didn't feel like two people carefully choosing every word. It felt like them.

His smile lingered a second longer before duty pulled him back to reality. "I've..." He glanced across the ballroom. "I've gotta take care of something."

You raised an eyebrow. "'Take care of something?'"

He nodded. "Need to talk to someone."

"Very mysterious."

"I try."

You leaned in conspiratorially. "Political business?"

"Something like that."

"You realize that makes it sound even more suspicious."

"It probably is."

You grinned. "Ooh." You lowered your voice dramatically. "Secret congressman mission."

He rubbed the back of his neck, already regretting saying anything. "I didn't say that."

"No..." You pointed at him. "...but you definitely implied it."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"I'll try to stay out of your way then."

"You don't have to—"

You were already reaching for another champagne flute from a passing server. "Relax." You looked back over your shoulder. "I promise I won't accidentally expose your covert operation."

Then, you winked. It lasted less than a second before you disappeared into the crowd.

Bucky remained exactly where he was. He stared after you longer than he probably should have. His stomach did something strange. Not unpleasant. Just, unexpected.

You’d winked at him before. Dozens of times. Usually after teasing him. Or winning an argument. Or catching him being grumpy. So why did it feel different now?

He frowned to himself. Maybe because it had been three years. Maybe because you smiled first. Maybe because, for the first time since that night on the dock in Louisiana, you looked at him like nothing had to be repaired anymore. Like he hadn't lost you after all.

He wasn't sure which thought unsettled him more.

A passing congressman clapped him on the shoulder, snapping him back to the present. "Barnes."

Bucky blinked. Right. He had a reason for being here. He tore his eyes away from where you'd disappeared into the crowd and straightened his jacket.

Mission first. Whatever... that had just been could wait. For now.

Across the ballroom, Bucky finally spotted Mel standing alone near the grand staircase. She wasn't watching the guests. She was staring at the massive illuminated "A" suspended above the lobby, the same place where the Avengers logo had once overlooked the Tower.

Or maybe she wasn't looking at the letter at all. Maybe she was imagining what had stood there before.

He approached quietly, stopping beside her instead of directly behind. For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Mel blinked, almost startled. "Oh." She turned. "Congressman Barnes."

He nodded politely. "Mel, right?"

A small smile. "That's me."

His gaze drifted back toward the towering emblem. He looked up at the ceiling.

He gestured toward the building around them. "All of this probably feels like ancient history to you."

"Kierkegaard said..." she began carefully, trying to remember the quote. "Life can only be understood backwards..."

"Very true," Bucky added.

Her eyebrows lifted. " Is it?"

“I don't really know.” 

She laughed. “Though it sounded good”

He shrugged. “He believed it was up to individuals to create values.”

She smiled. After a beat, she added quietly, "I know who you are and what you're doing.” 

Bucky looked at her. His expression stayed perfectly neutral. "What am I doing?"

She nodded. “You're working me. You're trying to get me on your side.” She folded her arms. She studied him.

"You know..."

He didn't react. “Okay, look. You say you know who I am, so you know my story.” His eyes met hers. “And you know I didn't have a choice who I worked for. But you do.” 

Mel looked away first. “I need to keep Valentina on schedule. “

Bucky reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. She immediately sighed. "Oh, what's this? Is this your trash?” 

He held out a business card.

“It's my business card.” 

She looked at it but didn't take it.

"In case..." He smiled. "you need help or, you know, want to share some secret hidden evidence."

She finally accepted it.

“Well. Goodbye” 

She tucked the card into her pocket. As she walked away, Bucky didn't call after her. He simply watched her disappear into the crowd. Sometimes planting the seed was enough. And if his instincts were right, Mel had looked at that business card for just a second longer than someone with nothing to hide should have.

For the rest of the evening, you found yourself unconsciously searching for him. Not because you meant to. Because somehow, every time you looked across the ballroom, you knew exactly where he was.

He never stayed in one place for long. One conversation with a senator. Another with a military liaison. A handshake with a donor. A photograph with someone from the Veterans Committee.

To anyone else, Congressman Barnes looked perfectly at ease. You knew better. His eyes never stopped moving. Neither did yours. He wasn't working the room. He was watching it. Watching Valentina. Watching Mel. Watching every entrance, every hallway, every whispered conversation that broke apart the second someone approached.

Whenever another guest stopped him, he smiled politely, answered their questions, even laughed when expected. The second they walked away, the smile disappeared. His jaw tightened. His shoulders squared.

You'd seen that look before. Not the Winter Soldier. Bucky when he was trying to solve a problem.

Hours passed before you finally slipped away from the ballroom, needing a break from the endless music and political small talk. The hallway outside was blessedly quiet.

You had barely rounded the corner when someone caught your wrist. Your body tensed automatically, until you saw him.

His grip loosened immediately. "Sorry."

"No," you said, smiling. "You just scared five years off my life."

"I'll buy them back later."

"You'd better."

For a second, neither of you moved. Then he glanced down the corridor before speaking quietly. "I talked to Mel."

You leaned against the wall. "Valentina's assistant?"

He nodded. "I think she's wavering."

"Wavering?"

"I don't think she's completely bought in anymore."

That got your attention. "You think she'll talk?"

"I think..." He searched for the words. "...she wants someone to give her permission to."

You studied him. "And?"

"I need Gary."

"Congressman Anderson?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

He looked at you. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught you off guard. Not because of what he asked. Because he asked at all.

Three years ago, you weren't sure how you would've answered. Tonight, you nodded without hesitation. "I do."

Something in his expression softened. "Come on."

He led you upstairs toward one of the quieter hallways overlooking the ballroom. As if on cue, Congressman Gary Anderson stepped through a nearby doorway carrying a folder tucked beneath one arm.

Bucky intercepted him. "Congressman."

Gary nearly jumped. "Holy—" He grabbed his chest dramatically. "Barnes. You trying to kill me?"

Bucky ignored the comment. "I've got something."

Gary immediately glanced around. "What?"

"Mel. The assistant? I think she's..." He paused. "...ductile."

Gary blinked. "Ductile?" 

Bucky nodded slowly.

“Oh. I mean, good.” He sighed, annoyed, “I mean next time text like a normal person?”

You pressed your lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. Bucky looked over at you. That familiar glare.

Except after all these years, it had completely lost its intimidation. It wasn't the Winter Soldier's stare anymore. It was simply Bucky silently informing you that you were being very unhelpful. Which somehow made you want to laugh even more.

He sighed. "Look, we're safe here." He pointed toward the ceiling. "We’re in a blind spot, okay. Away from those two cameras."

Gary looked upward. Then back at him. "Hold on, alright? We don’t need to go rogue, in the darkness, or whatever you people do.” 

"You people? Hold On? You don't know what Val is capable of.” You argued. 

Bucky sighed, “We need to move fast and the assistant is on the fence.” 

You stepped beside him. "He's right."

Gary looked at you. "Miss Stark. You've worked with her."

"I have."

"Then you know accusations aren't enough."

"I also know she's spent three years making sure no accusation sticks."

Gary sighed. "Without a smoking gun, the best chance to get Val out of power is to whip the votes. And you can help with that, and let the system do its job.”

Bucky laughed once. A tired laugh. "The same system that takes a recess every afternoon at four?"

Gary didn't smile. He adjusted the folder beneath his arm "Look, we are in a good spot. I assure you.  My team is putting together a juicy packet for the next hearing.” 

Bucky blinked. "...Packet?"

"Yes. A packet." Gary looked genuinely confused. "Read the packets, Barnes."

Then, with one final nod, he disappeared back toward the ballroom.

Silence settled between the two of you. You watched Bucky stare after him. He looked disappointed. Not angry. Just disappointed.

He'd hoped another elected official would understand. Would act. Instead, he'd gotten another reminder that Washington solved problems with binders before people.

You stepped closer. "He isn't wrong."

"I know."

"But neither are you."

He looked at you.

"You've spent all year trying to change the system." Your voice softened. "You're just frustrated because it's starting to change the way you work too."

He let out a slow breath. "...Maybe."

"No." You smiled gently. "It still hasn't though. You still run toward people. You just wear a suit when you do it now."

For the first time that evening, he smiled again. A real one.

The gala slowly began winding down. Guests filtered toward the exits, conversations giving way to polite goodbyes and the hum of waiting town cars.

Bucky insisted on walking you outside. Neither of you talked much. Some silences didn't need filling anymore.

Your car pulled to the curb. He opened the door before you could reach for it. Some habits never changed. 

You looked up at him. "Goodnight, Congressman."

He smiled. "Goodnight..."

This time, he said your name. Not Ms. Stark. Not professionally. Just your name. You smiled before climbing into the car.

As it pulled away, you glanced back through the rear window. He was still standing there beneath the lights of the Tower. Hands in his pockets.

Watching until your car disappeared into Manhattan traffic. Only then did he turn back toward the building. Toward Valentina. Toward whatever secret she was working so hard to keep hidden.

The days that followed settled into an unfamiliar kind of quiet. For the first time in weeks, there were no explosions. No emergency calls in the middle of the night. No rushing to airports or chasing leads across continents.

Life simply... resumed. Or at least, tried to.

Bucky disappeared almost as quickly as the dust had settled. He never told anyone where he was going. You didn't ask. Some part of you already knew.

He was finally doing what you and Sam had challenged him to do, not avenging his past, but facing it. One name at a time. One apology at a time. One impossible conversation after another.

You found yourself wondering how he was doing more often than you cared to admit. Sometimes your fingers hovered over your phone before you stopped yourself.

He needed to do this on his own. Besides, you weren't exactly good at asking people if they were okay either.

Sam, meanwhile, disappeared for different reasons. He'd mentioned wanting to visit Isaiah Bradley. After everything that had happened, the shield, Walker, Karli, New York, it felt overdue.

As for you, life returned to conference rooms. Government briefings. Security assessments. Questions from senators who suddenly wanted your opinion now that Captain America had publicly challenged them.

You attended meeting after meeting, reviewing footage from New York, answering inquiries about enhanced individuals, reconstruction efforts, and international relations.

There were questions about Walker. Questions about Sharon. Questions about the Flag Smashers. And surprisingly, very few objections to Sam.

After his speech, even the loudest critics seemed reluctant to argue with him publicly. Not because everyone agreed. Because everyone had heard him. That mattered. 

A week later, Sam called. You answered.

The Captain America exhibit was quieter than you remembered. School groups wandered through the displays. Veterans stopped beside old photographs. Parents explained history to children too young to understand it.