#jsd only exception

Six months later…

The lobby of the Red Wing Community Center was tremendously crowded, and for that you were grateful. You’d only caught a glimpse as you walked past, but it was more than enough to make tonight’s dedication ceremony that much more exciting.

As you walked back to your office, you thought about all you’d gone through to get to this point. So much had happened in your life, and you felt like a completely different person now, for the better. You were leading your own group and one-on-one sessions now, and you really felt like you were finally getting a chance to make use of all that training and empathy you’d accumulated over the years.

Maria had been given a psych evaluation that yielded some interesting (read: alarming) results, so she was now in a treatment facility designed for criminals. It was better to have her there than roaming free to hurt others, and rotting in prison without working out her issues would have been useless.

You hoped she would someday feel sorry for the harm she caused to everyone.

It turned out that Leah’s unemployment stint led her to a new job with the New York Yankees organization. Rumor had it that she was also sleeping with one of the top stars of the moment.

May Parker’s employment was terminated when Tony Stark dissolved September Media. You hadn’t heard a peep about her since.

Scott Lang was now no longer reporting on engineering feats, he was designing them himself under Stark Industries.

Bucky’s surrogate mother found solace in becoming the head cook at the new kitchen for the less fortunate members of the community center, which was part of tonight’s dedication ceremony.

Bruce Banner became a top investigator at his station. His research skills helped save many lives since this promotion, and Brooklyn had never felt safer.

Steve and Natasha were still a thing, and you knew from a little birdie that Steve was looking for a bigger place for the two of them to move into together. It wasn’t easy keeping that a secret from your best friend, but you were getting pretty good at no longer spoiling things for other people.

You smiled to yourself as you flipped the light switch, illuminating your renovated office.

The two of them were cute, sure, but you knew someone even more adorable. You walked over to the wall behind your desk, where a calendar was hanging next to your trauma certifications and degrees.

The featured image for May was a woman you hadn’t met yet, but she looked damn good standing in her firefighter uniform and holding a big brown puppy. The New York fire stations all did charity calendars benefiting Brooklyn non-profits. Steve and Bucky’s station was going to make a calendar to benefit the community center, but you convinced them not to after your grand idea came into play.

Instead, they did a charity calendar for the local animal shelter, and it sold so fast they had to order more prints. Every single firefighter there posed with animals that were up for adoption, and you absolutely adored it. You had a copy for work, and one in almost every room of your new apartment (except the bathroom, because that would be really weird).

You flipped the calendar to Steve’s Mr. July picture, complete with a bunch of golden retriever puppies all dressed in red, white, and blue ribbons. Natasha had almost passed out when she saw it.

That wasn’t even the best part. No, your favorite was Mr. October. When you got to that page, you grinned at the photo of Bucky in nothing but his pants, suspenders, and fireman’s hat, holding a tiny orange kitten in his muscular right arm, and a tiny black kitten in his left. They were posed around pumpkins for a Halloween theme.

You couldn’t wait for October.

“Could you please stop ogling me? It’s embarrassing.”

You let go of the calendar page and turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway, shaking his head at you.

“I just really love kittens and Halloween,” you joked, moving around your desk to stand in front of him. “I can’t help it that you’re in the picture, too.”

“Funny.” Bucky reached for you, grabbing you by the hips to pull you closer to him. He leaned over and brushed his nose with yours, then placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. “How was your shift?”

He shrugged. “Nothing too dangerous.”

“Good. This city had better keep my hot fireman safe.”

Bucky was your biggest source of comfort and strength in the months following Maria’s arrest. He never pushed you, never expected anything out of you, but instead was simply there for you when you needed someone. He helped build your confidence back up.

Along the way, you found yourself genuinely falling for him. It was more than the bar date had been; that was just banter and flirting, you knew that now. No, this was blossoming more every day into something incredible.

This time around, you and Bucky had a partnership.

“You see the crowd out there?”

You nodded. “Sam is beside himself. There’s so much attention on the center now, he’s going to have to hire another assistant.”

“Maybe an intern? Steve knows this kid from Queens who seems really caring, like he wants to help people.”

“Tell him to talk to Sam.” You reached up and brushed his hair back. “I guess we should be going, they’re going to be expecting us.”

“You,” Bucky corrected, his blue eyes bright as a proud smile formed on his face. “They’re expecting you, Doll. Not me. You’re the one who brought this all together.”

“I had help. I couldn’t have done any of this without Sam and Mr. Stark.”

“And his money, don’t forget.”

“That too.”

After Tony Stark offered to find you a new place to live (and you now lived in a top-floor, elevator-accessible apartment in Williamsburg, a much nicer part of your beloved Brooklyn), he wanted to know what else he could do to make things right.

There was only one thing you could think of. Money wouldn’t change what happened to you. Money couldn’t take away the pain Maria caused.

It could, however, improve the lives of a shit load of New Yorkers who needed the help.

Sam’s center ran almost entirely off of funding from generous donors. You knew he had a wish list of additional programs he wanted to start, as well as other helpful improvements to the center itself. One of them was the soup kitchen. Expanded group rooms, temporary housing for domestic violence victims, a new gym and rehabilitation center for injured vets and first responders, and on-call support staff were a few of those things.

Now, thanks to Tony’s generosity, they were becoming a reality, and you couldn’t be happier for Sam.

“Y/N? You look lost in thought aga-“

You interrupted Bucky by brushing your lips across his again, having spent far too long talking and thinking instead of kissing. It was hard to find time for yourselves lately, with all the extra work you had to do for the center, and all the crazy shifts Bucky was on.

Bucky seemed to agree with this new direction. He pressed closer to you as he deepened the kiss, his fingers digging into your hips just a little. The two of you were so lost in each other that you didn’t hear Sam until he cleared his throat in exaggeration.

You and Bucky pulled apart, sheepishly turning to look at him.

“They’re about ready, if you two are done playing tonsil hockey,” Sam said. “Y/N, I want you to be at the front and center, if you would.”

“Nah, Sam. This is your dream. This is your hard work. You deserve it.” You smiled at your friend, mentor, and boss. “Helping people is the only thing I ever wanted, and you gave me a chance to do it. Anything else I do for you is just me trying to return the favor.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re something else, Y/N.” He turned, motioning for you to follow.

Bucky took your hand in his as the two of you walked behind Sam to the main lobby, where a crowd of supporters, neighbors, and press were gathered to watch Sam and Tony Stark cut the ribbon on the expanded facility. You found a spot off to the side so you could get some good pictures on your phone.

“He’s right, you know,” Bucky murmured in your ear. 

“Hmm?” You stood on your tiptoes to try to see if Tony was there yet, and bit back a grin when you saw him shake hands with Sam.

Bucky continued talking. “Although, you aren’t just something else to me. You’re everything. I love you so much.”

You turned to look at him with wide eyes, feeling a little speechless.

Bucky’s eyes were sparkling as he lifted a hand to cup your cheek gently. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not just saying it to say it, either. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months now, but you’ve been so busy with these amazing projects…anyways, I just wanted you to know that I love you.”

He dropped his hand from your face and shoved both hands into his pockets, turning to face the front where Sam and Tony were ready to cut the ribbon.

He was so casual about it, you wondered for a moment if you imagined it all.

Did he just…?

You heard Sam’s voice as he thanked everyone for coming, and then thanked Tony for his generosity. It all became white noise as you focused on the man beside you.

This wasn’t some blundered attempt at making up. This wasn’t a cover-up for a mistake. It wasn’t a last-ditch effort to not lose you.

He really did mean it.

From where you started with Bucky and where you were now, it seemed like there was a whole lifetime in between. There were moments of happiness and sadness, tragedy and triumph…moments you’d love to forget, and moments you’d cherish forever.

That was the point of anything, wasn’t it? To live life to the fullest? To take the good with the bad, and find someone to walk beside you along the way?

Not one human is flawless; everyone has both a good side and bad side. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how you use those mistakes, how you learn from them, that shape you into a better person.

You’d been reading about other people’s romances your whole life, while slowly developing that now-infamous cynical attitude toward all of it. Deep down, though, your heart had always longed for a love life worthy of a Jane Austen novel. Hell, for a while there, you were even willing to settle for a little Sophie Kinsella-type romance. But what you really ended up with was more like that bastard Nicholas Sparks, with his flair for melodrama and deep connections.

You pulled Bucky’s hand out of his pocket and gripped it tightly in your own, causing him to look at you in surprise.

The two of you locked eyes as if you were the only two in the room. It was straight out of Pride and Prejudice movie or something, when Elizabeth stares at Darcy while they’re dancing. Only you weren’t dancing, and this wasn’t a romance from classic literature.

This was real.

There was a brief pause before you finally found the courage to let the words slip.

“I love you, too.”

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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A/N: If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

“Y/N?”

You kept your eyes focused on your sleeve while you picked at imaginary lint, trying to avoid eye contact with Sam.

He sighed loudly, and the tell-tale squeak of his office chair told you he was coming over to sit beside you. Sam placed one hand over yours, ending your nervous distraction.

You finally let your eyes flicker up to his. The weight of his gaze on you was too stifling not to.

“Yes?”

“You aren’t ready to be back at work,” he told you gently, removing his hand and resting it on the chair arm. “Why did you come here today?”

“I- I just…” The words were there on the tip of your tongue, but it was so hard to say aloud. It was so difficult to admit that this time, you were the one who needed trauma help. You were the one who needed to talk about it.

After Bucky found you in the burning hallway, you collapsed in his arms from smoke inhalation. You didn’t know he had slept out in the waiting room all night until a nurse asked you if he was your hot boyfriend, then described him in detail.

He’d been there for you, and you were realizing that with each passing day, you wanted him there.

In the meantime, you were staying with Natasha. Her apartment was cramped, and it very well might be the next target, but you didn’t have the heart to venture too far from Brooklyn, and you weren’t about to let some psycho drive you off. They’d already taken your sense of security, your ability to sleep calmly through the night.

You weren’t letting them have Brooklyn, too.

Sam nodded, his eyes softening as he took your hand again. “Talk about it. For me.”

You shook your head. “Sam, you’ve got better things to do than be my savoir tonight. You’re so much more than that.”

“I’m your friend, first and foremost. So let’s hear it.”

You took a deep breath and looked away, trying not to relive that night in your mind’s eye. “You know what happened already.”

“I’ve heard accounts from Bucky and Steve, and from the news. I haven’t heard your side.”

“My side,” you said with a sarcastic laugh. “My side is that my home was set on fire on purpose. My side is that I don’t understand why I’m still being targeted. My side…my side is so tired, Sam.”

He wordlessly waited for you to continue, so you did.

“I relied on no one for the longest time, and now I have to rely on someone – anyone – to save me. I hate it. I quit that job to regain control of my life and I still haven’t. Thank god someone saw the smoke and called for help before I did. They got there really quickly.”

“By ‘they’ you mean the first responders?”

“Yes.”

“How did it make you feel to see Bucky there? After everything you’ve been through?”

Ah, there it was…the ‘how does that make you feel’ question you’d been waiting for. “I felt relieved. How else is one supposed to feel when you see a fireman arrive at a fire?”

“Well, you could have felt panicked at seeing him. You could have felt distrust.”

“No, nothing like that. He saved my life. And…well, you know we started over as friends. He’s been there for me a lot lately.”

“And what about the firebug?”

You leaned back, shrugging. “There’s been no progress. Bruce found a link from the emails we gave him back to September Media, but it wasn’t official. Without reasonable cause or suspicion, he can’t obtain a warrant.”

Sam nodded. “It was arson, though?”

“It was arson,” you confirmed.

“There’s nothing the police can do besides a regular investigation?”

“Nope.” You stared at the floor for a second, until it hit you. “Unless…”

“Uh-oh. Whatever you’re planning, don’t.” Sam shook his head. “This person is clearly deranged and dangerous.”

You shifted so you were looking at him, eyes wide. “If I go back to the office, then the person responsible might get scared and say something, or try to get to me.”

“Natasha still works there, though. Didn’t you say the one email told her she was next?”

“Yeah, but could you imagine the two of us back in the same office? It’d be like catnip for crazy people!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, mulling it over. “On what pretext would you go back there?”

“Lawyers. Legal stuff. Surely they’d be willing to meet with me. That way, I get into the building for official business.”

“This seems like a stupid idea that’s gonna get you hurt.”

“No,” you said excitedly, standing up. “I need to see Natasha. I can do this. Thank you, Sam!” You turned and swung open his office door, eyes set on the exit down the hall.

“Don’t thank me, this wasn’t my idea,” he called out after you.

You shifted nervously on your feet as you watched the digital number increasing on the panel above you. The slow speed of the elevator gave you a moment to get it together. Your anxiety was high; it was the first time you’d been back since quitting, since way before the fire was set in your apartment.

Natasha, who had readily agreed to your plan in an effort to ‘finally get this shit over with,’ was waiting outside the boardroom for you. That’s where the legal team had agreed to meet with you.

Bucky and Steve were waiting with Bruce at the café across the street, to not cause alarm or draw attention to themselves in case the perp recongized them.

You reached inside your pocket, feeling your phone nestled safely inside. The Bluetooth earpiece you wore was so small, no one would ever notice that Bucky would be listening to you the whole time.

“Are you still there?” you whispered.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Bucky’s reassuring voice sounded in your ear. “And I can be there with you in less than a minute. Just say the word.”

“Not yet.” The elevator made a sound as it reached the floor you needed, and you stepped off, trying to look as stoic as possible. “I’ve reached their offices.”

“Be careful,” was his only reply.

You took a breath, then let it out slowly as you made your way down the familiar hall, past May’s office, all the way to the main board room.

Natasha was standing at the window, looking out at the city below. When you knocked once on the door, she turned and immediately motioned you over.

You tapped your ear to remind her that you were on a live call, and she nodded.

As soon as the two of you made your way around the long table to sit, three lawyers wandered in, with May and Maria trailing behind them.

“Y/N. It’s so good to see you!” May’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she smiled at you, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Maria’s face held a similar fake smile.

“May. Maria.” You looked up at the lawyers. “I’m sorry, you are-?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Brock Rumlow, General Counsel for September Media. These are my associates. We’ll skip the pleasantries and get right to it. September Media is fully aware of the recent events that have happened, and we want to assure you that we take this matter very seriously.”

“As you should,” you replied coolly, eyes narrowing. “I’d like to know what has been done in the meantime to try to rectify this situation internally.”

Rumlow and May exchanged a short glance, before he looked back at you. “That information is on a need-to-know basis, and I’m afraid the internal investigation isn’t over just yet, so you don’t need to know yet. However, we would like to offer you a settlement, one that I think you’ll be very happy with.”

Anger coursed through your veins, and you could practically feel Natasha seething, too.

“I’m not settling anything, Mr. Rumlow. I know my rights. I know that I was initially told I’d be included in everything that was found here by my former supervisor here, May Parker. I want to know what you’ve been doing since I quit, to try to locate the person responsible for everything!”

“As of today, there is no evidence to support your claim that someone inside the company is-“

“No evidence?” Your hands were shaking now. “All those emails came from the company server, Mr. Rumlow. I’m not stupid; I know how IP addresses work.”

He smirked at you, irritating you to no end. “Are you an IT professional, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Well, no…but-“

“Then I suggest you leave the technology to the professionals. That argument would be thrown out of court the second you opened your mouth.”

He stood, sliding a document from his briefcase over to your side of the table. “This is our final offer. I suggest you take some time to mull it over.” Rumlow nodded his head, then turned to leave, and his associates filed out of the room behind without a glance back.

“This isn’t right, May, and you know it,” Natasha snapped, standing up.

“Natasha, can you please come with me?” May asked, her voice a little less sweet. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Nat glanced at you, and you nodded for her to go ahead. You watched, still fuming, as she followed May down the hallway, presumably to her office.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice Maria still sitting across from you. She’d been so quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into the middle of this, Maria,” you told her, trying to sound lighthearted. “It’s pretty ridiculous.”

“It really is,” she agreed, her blue eyes finally showing some life.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as she stood up and moved to the door, locking it. She turned back to you, eyes glaring.

“Why’d you lock the door?” You stood up, making your way over to it. “I don’t have anything to discuss with you, Maria.”

“Oh, I think you do,” she cooed, leaning back against the only exit.

“What is this?” You shook your head, your heartbeat becoming erratic. Was she trying to keep you in here while May did something to Natasha? “Do you know who has been threatening me? Who set fire to my place?” You took another step closer. “Are you covering up for May?”

“It’s always about May with you, isn’t it?” Maria laughed. “Oh, Y/N. We need to talk.”

She moved forward so quickly that she caught you off-guard and you stumbled backwards a bit.

“Have a seat, Y/N. I’m going to explain why you need to take this settlement and never show your face around here again.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit!

“Maria,” you said, voice even. “Are you the one? Have y-you been sending emails?”

“Yes,” she replied, giving you a satisfied smile. “I did. Not just to you, though, Y/N. It’s not all about you, is it now?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words to say to make her confess fully through your Bluetooth connection. “Did you try to kill me?”

“Oh, that?” She waved her hand as if you’d just said something absurd. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I only wanted to scare you a little.” Maria leaned over, pressing her palms flat against the table while you moved further away.

“Why, Maria? Why would you do that?”

“You want me to start from the beginning?” She made a face, as if she was contemplating her options. “Fine. Let’s start with Leah.”

You knew she was involved somehow!

“Little Miss Perfect was the first person to make me hate my job,” Maria said, standing up straight. She started walking around the table, and you backed up as far as you could as she made her first circle.

“When I first started here, Y/N, I had goals. I had aspirations. I wanted to be Tony Stark’s go-to person. Instead, I was assigned to help his flagship media company.” Maria paused in front of you, causing you to shrink back a little.

“Was I put in charge? No.”

You eyed the door, but Maria saw your line of sight and moved back in front of it.  

That’s it. You were gonna have to make a break for it. You’d have to push her away long enough to unlock the door.

“That’s awful,” you replied, laying on the fake sympathy. “What happened?”

“I was second fiddle to May, that’s what happened.” She planted her feet, crossing her arms over her chest. “So I proposed a role that would get me out of there, something that could get me noticed by Mr. Stark.”

“The YouTube Show?” You made a face at her. “Really? You think Tony Stark gives two shits about-“

“Yes,” she snarled, her arms falling back to her side. “I wanted to be the one to make him money, to get him the best press.”

“How’d that work out for you?” You cursed inwardly, trying to stop your smart mouth from replying again.

“Well, as you’re aware, May loved the idea, but promoted Leah, a freaking intern at the time, to be the face of the show. She told me that Leah had chutzpah to be lead on the show. When I heard she was getting free shit from Tony’s clients, I decided to partake a little, and in exchange, I kept quiet about what she was doing.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were after greasy men’s money, too?”

“Money is power in this town, sweetheart.”

If you kept her talking, maybe she would relax, and you could make a rush at her to the door. “Then what?”

“She threatened to reveal everything, so…I set her up to be discovered instead. The money stopped flowing, so I figured now would be a great time to be the show’s lead. Did I become the lead, though, Y/N?”

“No, you did not,” you played along. “And I honestly never wanted the role, Maria. You could have told me you wanted it and taken it from me. I’d have given it up gladly.”

“Wasn’t your call, though you would have been right to give it up. You deserved what you got, I think. You weren’t even good at it.” She snickered a little. “Anyway, now I was not only still a nobody at this company, but I lost my extra income. No more vacations, no more fine dining…I wasn’t about to lose that.”

“I didn’t get any offers,” you promised, shaking your head. “Leah, they stopped with Leah, and-“

“No, they didn’t. You got them. You just never saw them, but I did. And Natasha gets them now, too. But, that’s another problem for next time.”

“What’s May doing to her?” you asked, your palms clammy now.

“May? She isn’t involved. She’s useless. May hasn’t got the chutzpah for much of anything, don’t you agree?”

“Why?” you asked, voice flat. “Why would that make you want to hurt people? You hurt me, Maria.”

She stopped pacing again, eyes flitting to yours briefly. “I already said I didn’t mean to hurt you, just scare you a little. I knew you were seeing that fireman. I knew about the restaurant fire – and no, I didn’t set that.”

“What does Bucky have to do with this?”

Maria shrugged. “Just seemed poetic to me. Anyways, I knew your little knight would come save you. I never knew that they’d offer you a settlement, though, after the fire. That was ingenious.”

“I’m not taking it,” you warned her. “I’m walking out of here today, and I’m reporting you to the police.”

“No, actually, you’re going to agree to this settlement, and you’re going to put the money into my bank account, and you’re going to disappear. I’ve got too much at stake here; I rely on this extra income, Y/N, and it’s all but dried up thanks to you and Natasha.”

This was it. Moment of truth.

“I’m walking out of here,” you repeated. “And you’re going to let me.”

“Oh? Who says I won’t open the window behind you and toss you out of it?”

You heard a scuffle outside, and the two of you watched as the door was kicked in off its hinges. Bruce’s face appeared in the doorway, and he pointed his gun at Maria.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, but you’re under arrest,” he ground out, motioning for her to get on the ground.

You stared wide-eyed as Maria moved down to the carpet and put her hands up. Bruce moved quickly, handcuffing her and dragging her back to her feet. He handed her off to two officers standing outside the door, then turned back to you.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you replied weakly, pulling the earpiece out. One look at your phone told you that the call had ended about a minute ago. “Did you get all that?”

“Loud and clear, full confession,” he said with a sharp nod. “I’m still gonna need you to-“

“Make a statement, yeah, I got it. I’m getting good at those,” you joked, trying to hide the fact that your hands were still shaking a bit.

“Hey, it’s all right. She didn’t have a weapon.”

“No, but she’s still batshit crazy.”

You let Bruce lead you out into the hallway, where Natasha and Steve were waiting.

Nat ran over to you, and you threw your arms around each other tightly.

“It’s over,” she whispered, stroking your hair gently. “It’s finally over.”

“What did May want?” you murmured, not ready to let go of her yet.

“She told me she suspected it was someone on the team, that’s all. She didn’t know it was Maria.”

“I would never have guessed it was her, either. She laid it out to make almost everyone a suspect.”

You pulled back from Natasha when Steve walked over, giving him a smile when he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

One person was noticeably absent.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“He, uh…” Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. “He took the recording down to the station. He figured they’d need it right away.”

“He’s not here?” You couldn’t stop your frown. Why didn’t he wait for you, why didn’t he stay to make sure you were okay? “Oh.”

Natasha rubbed your arm, her face full of understanding. “We can all go over together, okay? I’m sure he’ll still be there.”

You nodded numbly, the adrenaline you’d felt early finally wearing off, as you let them lead you away from September Media for good.

“I think that’s everything,” Bruce said, tapping away at the keyboard in front of him as he filed the final report. “She’s gonna probably go away for a few months and get released with a plea deal, but I’ve also filed a restraining order on your behalf. That way, in the unlikely event she isn’t sent to a mental health facility, you’re at least protected, legally.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You offered him a tired smile. “I don’t know what would have happened. I kept hesitating, thinking I needed more of the story on record.”

“Yeah, I think any jury would be able to see she’s unstable. You did good, kiddo.”

“I’m going to go rest, I think.”

Before you could stand up to leave, Bruce touched your hand. You glanced back up at him in question.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you first, if that’s all right.”

“O-kay?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Tony Stark, at your service.”

You whirled around at the sound of the voice you’d only ever heard before on your TV screen. “Mr. Stark?”

“Please, call me Tony.” He removed the sunglasses that covered his big brown eyes, staring at you intently now. “Do you mind if we have a quick chat?”

Was he trying to buy you off, too? “I can’t talk about anything without my lawyer present, Tony. I-“

“No, no. Not about that stuff. I’m cooperating fully with the investigation.” He blinked a few times, then continued. “I wanted to let you know I’ve dissolved September Media in its current form. Everyone not involved with the show, with the exception of Mr. Lang and Ms. Romanoff, will be transferred to a job suited for them in Stark Industries.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you for letting me know.” At least Scott and Natasha would be safe.

“I also wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome to find a new apartment on my dime, one with top-notch security.” He waved a hand. “Wherever you want, and it’s totally separate from the case. I just…” Tony let out a deep sigh. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else but this, Y/N, since I heard about the fire and the suspicions behind it. I have to try to make it right. Is that okay with you? At least for this part?”

“I’m not really sure what to say, Mr. Stark. Thank you. I’ve been staying with Natasha since it happened. I would appreciate a safer place to live.” After all, it wasn’t like you’d ever feel safe or comfortable in your old apartment again.

Tony nodded. “Good, good. And about jobs, Y/N-“

“Let me stop you there, Mr. Stark.” You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m good on that front. I’ve got a great job. I am happy there.”

“Shame to lose you,” he lamented, running a hand down his face. “But I understand. Is there anything else I can do?”

It was like a light bulb went off in your head, and your smile grew. “Well…”

Once your impromptu meeting with Tony was over, you pulled out your phone and texted Bucky. You tried not to run into any people or objects while you typed and made your way out of the police station. It had been the longest day of your life, and you were anxious to unwind.

Where are you?

Outside, the sun had already gone down, and the streetlights shined on everything. Cars were zooming past, and the usual Brooklyn crowd was milling about, headed to dinner, or the subway, or any number of places.

Now that Maria was out of the picture, you felt like a huge, scary weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

If you were ever to talk about this to someone…maybe Sam…the first thing you’d mention is how happy you were to have your neighborhood back. It was home for so long. So many wonderful things happened here, and you didn’t want it to forever remind you of what almost happened.

You didn’t want to hold on to that forever.

Yeah, you were going to talk to Sam about it, one-on-one, and probably keep up the therapy to get over it. But at least home was home again. The apartment didn’t matter. The people, the place…that’s what mattered.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

If I said right behind you, would that be creepy?

You burst out laughing at Bucky’s text, then turned with a smile to see him leaning against the cement railing of the police station.

He looked so handsome and serene in the streetlight, it nearly took your breath away.

Bucky had become a pillar of strength for you lately. He’d snuck under your skin sometime between the first meeting and now, and you weren’t really sure how it happened, but you weren’t about to question it.

“Not creepy. No, you were here first this time, technically.” You walked closer until you were right in front of him.

His blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “So does that mean you followed me, then?”

“Oh, no, I totally followed Bruce,” you joked. “I have a thing for cops, now.”

“Cops? Aww, come on, Y/N. I’ve got the cool gear, though. I’ve got the firetruck, and the better uniform…”

“And the fireman’s pole,” you quipped, your grin widening.

Bucky laughed. “That, too.” 

“Why did you leave earlier? I was hoping to see you…once…ya know…”

He nodded, glancing down at his shoes then back up to you, looking more than a little apologetic. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me there. I heard what happened, that Maria threatened you again. That she…well she sort of used my profession against you.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for that,” you said softly. “That wasn’t your fault. She was clearly a little bit insane.”

“I’m sorry for assuming.”

“It’s all right.” You leaned over to nudge his arm. “Anyways, you waited for me for all the hours I was in the station, right? That means a lot to me, too.”

He straightened and put his hands in his pockets, looking a little nervous. “What do you say we spend some time together now? We can get you something to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging one shoulder. The two of you fell into step beside each other down the sidewalk, heading closer to the heart of the neighborhood. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” He still seemed a little unsure of himself. “There’s this woman staying with me who hasn’t seen you in forever, and she wanted me to bring you by…she’s cooking tonight, if you’re up for it.”

How could you refuse such a sweet offer? You smiled again, reveling in how lighthearted everything was now. You were truly grateful to have him around.

“I’d love to join you, Bucky.”

{Epilogue to follow}

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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You kept your eyes focused on the young woman across from you, though she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Today was the first day you were allowed to sit in on a group therapy session, so you started with Dr. Coulson. He was a very serious man, which you learned quickly after making a Dr. Phil joke that didn’t go over so well.

Anyways.

You had just finished your trauma certifications last week, and you decided to start your shadowing sessions with something you weren’t familiar with: work-related injuries and trauma.

Dr. Coulson was employed part-time at the Red Wing community center, using his knowledge as a medical professional to help those with major injuries or extensive medical work cope with the changes to their bodies and minds.

It was an interesting choice, but you realized about five minutes into the session how essential it was to hear from someone who understood the injuries to answer questions honestly, instead of someone who just wanted to make them feel better about them.

The young woman across from you, an Army veteran who was medically discharged, was just one of seven that were circled around you and Dr. Coulson. Each person had a visible wound that contributed to their emotional pain, and you found yourself unable to think of ways to comfort or help them.

Seriously, you were drawing a blank. The empathy was there, but you had no clue how to help.

Thank goodness you were here to learn.

“Mara.”

She looked up and met Dr. Coulson’s eyes at the sound of his voice.

“You can talk about it here, Mara. I’m here to help, and Y/N is here to learn to help. The rest of your session-mates are here for help, just like you. No one is here to judge you.”

Mara’s eyes skimmed the faces around her, finally landing on yours. You kept your face neutral, though you felt so deeply for this woman that you wanted to cry.

But, that would be unprofessional, and you were no longer an overemotional, unprofessional person.

Her eyes flitted back to Coulson’s. “I have pain sometimes,” she admitted. “Where my leg used to be. Isn’t that weird? I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with searing pain in a leg I don’t have anymore.”

Dr. Coulson nodded. “It’s called Phantom Limb Pain, and approximately eighty percent of all amputees experience it.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Coulson shifted a little in his seat, clasping his hands together in front of him. That little motion was like that of a parent talking to a scared child, though it bore no condescension. “Most experts think it’s caused by mixed signals from your brain to your spine, and vice versa. It could be damage to nerve endings nearby, causing neurological misfires. In other words, it’s not ‘all in your head,’ Mara.”

Mara nodded, looking down again.

Your eyes followed her line of sight to her left leg, which was amputated just below the knee. Your heart ached for her, but even more than that, you admired her courage and perseverance.

“What can I do to stop the pains? Can I- will therapy help?”

“I think therapy, along with keeping track of what triggers your pain, could help immensely,” Coulson replied, his voice still gentle. “If you notice patterns, keep track of them. For instance, if you sleep on one side more than the other, and you still have pains at night, then write it down. If cold bothers it, write it down. The more information you can take to your primary care physician, the more they will be able to narrow down why this is happening and help you treat it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Coulson,” she murmured. “That’s all I had.”

“Okay. I think that’s just about all our time for today. Thank you for being here and for sharing. We can all benefit from knowing and caring for each other. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

A chorus of agreement sounded around the room, and you stood and waited to the side while everyone else shuffled out the door.

Dr. Coulson turned to you with a polite, curious smile. “What did you think, Y/N?”

“I think you and everyone at this center do some amazing things,” you answered honestly. “I’m glad to be a part of it, and to try to make a difference in someone’s life.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I don’t expect that you’ll be specializing in injury-related therapy, but I think you have a knack for it, a real empathy that the world is lacking these days.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Phil. Just not Dr. Phil.”

You chuckled, turning to follow him out the door into the main hallway. Phil said a hurried goodbye, trying to get back to the hospital for his shift, while you sort of meandered around until your next session.

The next group that you would be in was a session with Sam, and it was going to be more of your kind of expertise. The participants were of victims of trauma that wasn’t caused by work, but was often triggered by it. You hoped to have a session of your own with them someday, because you were good at finding a root cause to reactions and behaviors. At least, you liked to think so.

You waited patiently outside the darkened room, leaning back against the wall. Your mind was racing with all the things you’d heard and learned today.

A familiar voice ended your reverie.

Sam was speaking, but that wasn’t the voice that did it.

You were almost afraid to look, but you did anyways. Bucky Barnes was strolling down the hallway beside Sam. They hadn’t noticed you yet, but to get to the exit, they had to walk past you.

You felt your stomach do a little flip when Bucky’s eyes met yours. He faltered a bit in whatever he was saying to Sam, who naturally picked up on it right away. Damn him for being so observant.

“Y/N,” he called out, walking over to you, with Bucky lagging behind him a little. “All ready for the next group?”

“Waiting patiently,” you replied, forcing a small smile to your face.

“I was just finishing up with Mr. Barnes here. He tells me that he knows you personally?”

Your smile fell. Why would he mention that to Sam? In fact, what was he doing here?

As if Sam knew what you were thinking, he explained himself. “I ask permission from all the session participants before I have someone new sit in for training. Barnes has been coming to this center for years. When I said your name, he mentioned that he knew you, and I thought maybe that was a conflict of interest. I didn’t want him to feel awkward, so I had his session one-on-one today.”

“Ah.” You felt like an ass now. There’d been no reason to jump to conclusions like you did. Bucky had a life, had personal stuff to deal with outside of you.

You had to stop reacting badly to things where he was concerned. It wasn’t like he’d carried out his intentions, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to make amends. Someone like Sam wouldn’t put up with a bad man.

Bucky wasn’t a bad man.

“How are you, Y/N?” he piped up quietly, moving out from behind Sam. His blue eyes didn’t reveal any emotion, though they were a little red-rimmed.

Your heart ached again, remembering that the restaurant burned down recently. He must have been talking about it in his session. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Fine,” he answered. “I’m sure…you probably saw the news.”

“I did. I am really sorry, Bucky.”

“Let me just interrupt for a second,” Sam interjected. “I have to go see Sharon about something. Please excuse me. Good to see you again, Bucky.”

“You too, Sam. Thanks for accommodating me today.”

Sam nodded, then turned and left the two of you alone.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated. “I saw you on TV that night. You saved her life.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hesitated to try to save someone, family or not.” Bucky looked away toward the door, and you knew he was longing to escape this conversation. “Anyways, the chief confirmed that it was a grease fire. It was just an unfortunate accident.”

You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Do you think the Foundation could help her?”

“No.” He still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “What I mean is, I’ve taken care of it. She’s staying with me while the insurance sorts things out. She might not have a restaurant anymore, but at least she’s got a comfortable apartment.”

“That’s good. I’m glad she has you.” There was a brief pause, but you couldn’t stand silence right now. “Have you been coming here a long time?”

“I have, ever since it opened here in Brooklyn. Partly for how close it was to work, but mostly because they deal with first responders.”

“I work here now.”

“Yeah, Sam told me. Listen, Y/N, before this gets any more awkward, I wanted to apologize again. I haven’t been myself in weeks. Between my ex, my anger, the idiotic plan, the even more idiotic declaration of love…Natasha meant well, but I don’t think I was ready for that either.”

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes finally flickering back to yours. So, Natasha had been the one to coax him to call in and say something. That figured.

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, she didn’t tell me to say that. She just told me that a grand expression of my feelings might help. I panicked and blurted that out. I don’t know how to grandly express myself these days without screwing everything up, it seems.”

You brows furrowed a little. “Emotions aren’t things to mess with. I learned that the hard way at work.”

“I know that,” he agreed readily. “I know. I’m not excusing what I did by any means. I learned the hard way, too, through losing you.”

Your stomach did a couple of those crazy flips again. “By the time you called in, I was already on the Embarrassment Train to Unemployment. I said some crazy shit on the show, too, and messed with peoples’ lives. Natasha helped me realize that I wasn’t treating people well, either. We both have some growing up to do.”

“I, um…” He paused again, looking down at his shoes, his face somber. “Do you remember what I told you before? I thought being a firefighter would be a way to cope with my sister’s death, but it turned out to be a trigger, sometimes.”

“That isn’t uncommon,” you offered, trying to sound helpful like Dr. Coulson.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on anything but you. “So anyways, I started therapy at a private practice first, then I switched to Sam’s group. I sort of slacked off for a while, thinking I was better, but lately I’ve realized that I still need to work through some stuff.”

“Therapy is good for everyone, I think.” He was trusting you with this revelation, something that both amazed and encouraged you. Maybe you should have a one-on-one with someone, too, for your own issues.

“It is,” he agreed. “Sam and all the people here have been so incredible, so helpful. I just…I can’t seem to stop adding to my list of problems, though.”

You could relate. “I’m sorry for disturbing your session. I’m shadowing the group leaders for a couple of weeks so that I can learn how things are done around here.”

Bucky looked back at you. “Don’t apologize for that, you didn’t know.”

“No, but…”

His eyes softened, and his body language seemed to relax, too. “But nothing. It’s great that you’re finally able to use your degree for something you always wanted to do. I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

Well, you weren’t expecting that at all. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“I’m gonna head out. Good luck on the rest of your training here.”

You merely nodded, watching as he turned to leave. You knew he was just doing what you wanted by leaving you alone. A strange anxiety filled you, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from calling out to him.

“Bucky!”

He paused halfway to the exit, then looked over his shoulder in question.

Shit. You should have thought this through.

You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, and now Bucky was staring at you with those big blue eyes.

You decided to just go for it. “Do you, maybe, want to start over? As friends?” Your heart was racing, and Sam’s advice about chances came back to you as you stared at him, awaiting an answer.

Right now, all you wanted was to make everything right in your life, and you’d already started by quitting your job. Now it was time to make peace with people.

He turned his whole frame to face you this time, a small smile appearing on his handsome face. “I’d like that very much.”

You made sure not to walk past the ruins of the restaurant on your way home this time. Part of Sam’s encouragement was to not let the past have such a tight grip on you, and there was no way you were going to disregard such sound advice.  

Sam was so different from May. He was more like a friend and mentor than a boss, because all he wanted to do was help. He genuinely wanted you to succeed in your career. He was your Mr. Miyagi, and you hoped to never let him down as long as you were employed at the Red Wing Foundation.

The sound of your phone ringing made you jump a little, even though you were on a busy Brooklyn street. The name on the caller ID made you smile. “Hello?”

“Y/N! I’m standing outside of your apartment! Where are you?”

“How the hell did you get into my building without me, Natasha?”

“I pressed every single button. Someone buzzed me in. That’s how completely secure this place isn’t, Y/N. Anyways, how far away are you?”

“I thought we agreed to keep our distance because of the gag ord-“

“How far are you?” she interrupted. “I really need to see you!”

You turned the corner and your building came into view. “I’m almost there. Why, Natasha, is something wrong?”

“You could say that. Just get here, okay?”

She ended the call, and you shoved your phone back into your bag with a frown. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Once you made it to your floor, you spotted Natasha sitting against your door, her arms wrapped around her knees as she hugged them to her body. She looked really upset.

The second she saw you, she stood up and motioned at the door. “Turns out, I can’t pick locks.”

“Good,” you scoffed in a joking tone. “Can’t have you inviting yourself over all the time. What if I have a gentleman caller?” You opened the door and let her move inside first, before turning to lock it behind you.

Nat’s eyes widened as she turned back to you. “Have you been dating?”

“On and off. I haven’t really hit it off with anyone.”

This was sort of true. You’d had one date since the blowup with Bucky, with a guy you met on a dating site. He was polite, but boring as hell, and you hadn’t accepted his offer for a second date. You just couldn’t see a future with him. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

But Natasha didn’t need to know that. “Make yourself comfortable. Did you eat yet?” You wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water.

“I’m not even remotely hungry. I came here to talk to you about work.”

Suddenly wine sounded more appealing than water. “Red or white?”

“Red,” she replied without missing a beat. “I know we said we couldn’t talk about it, but Y/N, I have to tell someone.”

“Go ahead. What’s another legal issue?” you joked, pouring the red wine carefully into two glasses, then taking one of them over to Nat.

She accepted it gratefully, taking a small sip. “I don’t have to go into the logistics of the case. This is all new, all stuff that happened in the last two days.”

“Go on.” You walked back over to grab your own glass and the bottle, then brought them both to the coffee table, sitting beside her and giving her your full attention. “What’s been happening?”

“May hasn’t found anyone she likes for your replacement yet,” she informed you. “No one has the background, though she’s certainly made her rounds to try to make someone stick.”

“No way! Who has she forced into filming so far?”

“Me, Maria, Lillian from accounting…she even tried to get Scott to do it, citing his divorce as relatable.”

“Poor Scott.” You shook your head in disbelief. May was bananas. “Do you have to do it again?”

“That’s the worst part. Out of all of us, she said I gave the best advice. She wants to force me into the role next.”

“But with the creepy emailer still on the loose, what then?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. I haven’t told May or Scott or the legal department yet, but I’ve already gotten two email threats.”

You felt your eyes bug out. “What did they say?”

Nat made a face at you. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“The first one said - and this is just me paraphrasing here, because I don’t speak crazy – ‘You’re even less qualified than the last bitch, you should quit now.’”

“Oh my god, Natasha, you have to tell someone!” You shook your head. “You can’t just let this keep happening!”

Her hands wrung together tightly as she stared at you. “The second one said, ‘Once I’m done with the Love Therapist, you’re next.”

You felt a real fear again. This was a direct threat against you; it had been so long since the crazy stalker had mentioned you, that you thought you were in the clear. “Whoever is doing this should have been happy I quit, and leave me be.”

“Apparently they aren’t satisfied. It probably doesn’t help that May keeps bringing you up in comparison.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, a realization hitting you. “It’s got to be someone who works at September Media. It has to be!”

“What?” She sat up, eyes wide. “You think?”

“What else makes sense? The security clearance to get past firewalls, emailing us personally, inside information like knowing about what happened to Leah? It has to be someone on the inside, Nat.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re right, that makes sense. Who the hell would be so involved with something as stupid as a love advice YouTube show that they’d stoop to this level, though? Who at work would be this crazy?”

You leaned back against the couch cushion, trying to go through the directory in your mind. “I don’t think it’s Scott. And I don’t think it’s May. She’s far too involved in the money end.”

“Maybe she’s doing it to stir up controversy for viewership and media interest?”

“She’s got so much to lose, though.”

“Hmm…I think we should keep her on the list of suspects.”

You nodded. “She is sort of delaying the investigation, isn’t she?”

“That could be because she doesn’t want the show to shut down or get bad press.”

“All press is good press to her, though. Ugh! Who else?”

“Leah?”

“Maybe.” You had to admit, that was your first thought when this all started. “Or maybe one of her many contacts, those clients of Tony Stark’s that were trying to wine and dine with her?”

“I can find out who they were,” she offered with confidence. “No problem. One of them already tried to hit me up for some fun.”

“I didn’t get anyone asking me out. Not fair!”

“Did you really want one of those greasy old dudes to hit on you and use you like Leah? Come on.”

“No, definitely not.” You shuddered at the thought. “Anyone else?”

Natasha tapped her chin gently. “What about a viewer? Do you think one of your pieces of advice led to someone wanting to hurt you? Besides emotionally, I mean.”

Your mind went to Bucky, and his original plan to break your heart. It felt like such a long time ago, now that so many things had happened. “I wouldn’t put it past someone, but to actually keep it up this long shows that this person is a bit more damaged than anything we’ve seen before.”

“So are you over that, then?” Leave it to Natasha to read between the lines.

You thought about it for a moment. “Not exactly. It was a bad thing to do. But he’s working on it, you know? He’s trying to be a better, less emotionally reactive person. He’s been going to therapy.”

“How do you know?”

“Long story. Anyways, I decided to take the lead on things. I’m in control of what happens to me now, and I decided we should try to start over as friends.”

“You don’t have to start over with him at all, Y/N. You don’t owe him anything. Not after everything that happened.”

“I wanted to. I think…I think he’s a good person, Natasha. Love, or someone’s idea or impression of love, especially when they’ve been through so much, can cause someone to do some stupid things. It’s certainly not an excuse, but it is an explanation.”

“Ah yes, doing stupid things for love. I can relate.” She let out a big sigh. “Like me fighting with my best friend when she needed me most, just because I wanted to keep seeing a hot fireman?”

You nudged her arm with yours. “Exactly. Or what about me? I let my terrible luck with romance get in the way, and tried to derail the happiness of complete strangers.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she watched you carefully, waiting for you to arrive to your conclusion.

You shrugged, unsure of what else to say on the matter. “He lost his sister, then his fiancée. He almost lost his surrogate mother in a fire recently. I could see why he would become desperate to keep people.”

She nodded, still not saying a word.

“But, he backed off when I asked him to,” you continued, reasoning it out more for yourself than for her. “The fact that he is working through it in a healthy way this time shows he’s making progress. I don’t know…I believe what he told me, and I give him credit for telling me the truth before my feelings got wrapped up with him.”

“Well, you should know better than anyone since you’re a therapist. You’ve tried to analyze me many times.”

“And failed,” you added jokingly.

“Seriously, though, Y/N. That’s great to hear. Even if you can’t be more than friends, at least there’s nothing toxic hanging between you two anymore.”

“Exactly. I don’t need that burden any more than the next person.”

Natasha stretched out her limbs. “What were we talking about again?”

“We were coming up with possible suspects.”

“Well, speculating all night won’t get us any closer to the truth, I’m afraid. We’re going to have to dig a little deeper. What do you say we have an investigation of our own?”

“How?” You gave her a knowing look. “You’re going to go snooping, aren’t you?”

“Maaaaybe. Meanwhile, I think you should compile our suspects and motivations lists. We can take it to the legal department once we have a solid lead.”

“I will try. If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself, right?”

‘Right. Can’t wait for May to come around.” Natasha stood up, draining the little bit of wine left in her glass. “I’ll call you tomorrow with some details. Maybe I can get the emails on a flash drive so we can have someone else review them.”

You followed her to the door, opening it then leaning on it. “If you see anything even remotely suspicious, you call for help, okay? And I don’t mean Steve, or Scott, or me. I mean the police.”

“You, too. I’m actually going to meet Steve at the firehouse tonight, so I should be good. Are you going to be okay?”

You shrugged. “I might have a little trouble sleeping, but other than that I’ll be fine.”

Natasha pulled you in for another hug, then gave you a smile before she turned and walked down the hall.

You shut the door, locking it and putting the chain across for good measure. Then you went around to every window, making sure they were shut and locked, with the blinds closed.

That unwelcome feeling of vulnerability returned as you climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. You decided to leave the light on while you slept, just in case.

It was going to be a long night.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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A/N: Thanks for providing feedback on this story. I love that my writing invokes strong feelings. I haven’t taken anything lightly.

Two weeks later…

“I’m sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but I don’t think you have the right experience for this position. Best of luck to you in your job search.”

You thanked the hiring manager at the second – no, wait, the third – place you’d applied to, and ended the call with a big sigh.

That was your third rejection in a row, and these people hadn’t even waited until you were on the L train home to shoot you down. You shoved your phone in your pocket, glancing around the skyscrapers of Manhattan, ones that used to calm you down.

Now they just reminded you of rejection and failure.

You knew it was because of your meltdown; there was no way that this was going to die down anytime soon. It was still haunting you, from having to avoid googling your own name, to relatives emailing you memes of yourself, with the subject line ‘This one is really funny!’

The one meme of your face photoshopped on Grumpy Cat’s body was especially ridiculous, though it made you want to adopt a cat. Cats wouldn’t laugh or judge you.

Cats were too self-involved to care.

Your heels clicked on the pavement as you hurried to the subway entrance. There was no point on sticking around downtown for rush hour. You were grateful when the train arrived quickly, and you stepped on to find a seat, flopping down beside a man who was reading a newspaper.

Your thoughts drifted back to your YouTube debacle.

The memes weren’t even the worst of it.

The worst bit was that you didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Your former-assistant-slash-best-friend Natasha and your former cameraman Scott weren’t legally allowed to talk to you about anything work-related until the investigation into the creepy emails finished. To be safe, you’d told them both to just wait until you heard from the company lawyer. No need to get them into a mess, too.

Natasha had made her feelings on the matter pretty clear, anyways, the night you quit your job, before the gag order.

“I know this job was beneath you, Y/N, but you had a chance to impact people’s lives, and you were so…so reckless about it.”

“Here we go. Here comes Saint Natasha, never does anything wrong, won’t even let me talk to her without trying to make me to blame. Don’t take May’s side and Bucky’s side just because you like Steve, Nat, I-“

“I’m not!” She moved to sit down on your couch beside you, her eyes large and pleading. “I promise, this isn’t about me, or Steve, or May, or Bucky. This isn’t about assigning blame. No one won this week...not one of us is squeaky clean here. I’m talking about you, now, Y/N. You’re a trained psychologist. You’re a wonderful, compassionate person. You know the signs of when to get help. You know the impact of words, especially when casually thrown at someone who is knee- or chest-deep in heartache.”

You weren’t ready to hear that yet; the thought made you want to crawl out of your own skin. “They shouldn’t have put me on the show. I shouldn’t be forced to do something I don’t want to do.”

“Everyone goes through that at work, Y/N. It doesn’t make it right, but it’s the way of the world since the markets crashed. There are steps employees can take, though. You could have gone over May’s head, or quit sooner. Instead, you accepted the role, and you hurt people, including yourself.”

You were silent for a moment, feeling the familiar sting of unshed tears in your eyes as you glanced away from her.

“I know it’s scary to quit, or to stand up for yourself, but think about how scary it is to ask for help from a stranger,” she said softly, reaching out to grab your hand. “Think of how those people had to have no one else to ask but you, and then think about what you told them.”

That did it. The tears poured down your cheeks as the stress of the last few weeks finally caught up to you. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally. “What am I going to do now, Nat? No one’s gonna hire me after this.”

“Someone will.” She smiled at you, brushing your hair back gently. “Someone will see your worth, and they will give you a second chance, and everything will be ok.”

As much as you appreciated the sentiment, you were starting to lose hope again. Three rejections in a row – this wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, it had been difficult getting a job in your field as an entry-level person, but now the markets were opening up. You had a good degree, a good bit of training, some…experience…and most of all, you still genuinely wanted to help people.

You sighed as you watched the buildings go by in the train windows.

“Something got you down, Miss?”

The man next to you put his paper down on his lap as you looked over at him. He was really handsome, and right now his eyes were full of concern.

“I, um…” Okay, so maybe Nat had a point about talking to a stranger. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He nodded his head at you. “I’m Sam.”

“Y/N,” you replied, offering your hand to him, which he shook firmly.

His face scrunched up. “I think I recognize you.”

No no no no no…

“I just have one of those faces.” You looked back to the windows, feeling your face grow warm.

“No, I definitely recognize you. You’re that love doctor from YouTube, aren’t you?”

“Love Therapist,” you mumbled. “And I don’t do that anymore.”

He bit back a grin. “Yeah, no wonder. I saw your last episode. It was pretty friggin’ crazy!”

“What made you want to watch it?” You couldn’t look at him yet, not until you heard his answer.

“Honestly? Curiosity. It was all over the place: Love Guru hates love, has meltdown live!”

You groaned again, covering your face. “I don’t hate love!”

“What was that?”

“I said, I don’t hate love,” you repeated, dropping your hands to your lap. “I just hated that job.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

It sounded like it should be an insult, but his tone was too gentle, and it made you look up at him again in question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it sounds to me like you were taking your personal feelings out on others. You were hurting, too. But, we all have those days. Most of us just don’t have to show it to so many people.”

You were silent as you contemplated this.

“Anyways, Y/N, where are you working now?” Sam shifted in the tight space so he was facing you a little more.

“I’m not,” you admitted. “I just came from my third job interview, and they rejected me five minutes after I left, via phone. They couldn’t even tell me to my face.”

He hummed. “That’s not right.”

“It’s what I’m facing now that I was the infamous Love Therapist.”

“You don’t have to let that shit own you, Y/N.”

“I’m trying not to, Sam.”

“You’re taking these rejections sitting down with a whimper. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Bad things happen to good people all the time, and they carry on. It’s time to carry on.”

Again, you didn’t have a reply for him, suddenly feeling a little childish.

“Listen,” he began, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a business card, gesturing for you to take it. “I’m actually the head of the Red Wing Foundation, based here in Brooklyn. Have you heard of it?”

You shook your head no, accepting the business card with interest. Sam Wilson, Founder and Executive Director.

“The idea for a foundation formed after my last stint in the Army. I wanted to help veterans, reservists, first responders, even those currently active…anyone who went through some major traumatic events that needed help. It’s based in a community center down on Union Avenue, and it’s got career help, continuing education courses, support groups, even on-site therapy sessions.”

“It sounds wonderful,” you told him, feeling your chest tighten a little. If any city in America needed a center like that, it was New York.

Note to self: keep things in perspective.

“It really is. I’m in meetings all afternoon, but I think you should come by tomorrow, have a look around.” The train slowed to a stop, and Sam stood up. ”If you call my assistant, she’ll schedule a time for you to stop by.”

“Sounds good, Sam. Thank you so much!” You gave him a big smile, grateful for the offer, especially from someone who’d seen your show and still thought you were worthwhile.

With a final nod, Sam left the train, disappearing into the rush of people.

You felt more hopeful than you had in weeks.

True to his word, Sam’s assistant Sharon scheduled a time for you to meet with him the next day. The center was about seven blocks from your apartment, but that was nothing compared to hauling it to Manhattan every day.

Sharon informed you that therapy sessions were held three times a day, in the morning, afternoon, and evening, so that people on shift work could still make it to one if they wanted. The sessions were donation only, meaning that anything you could afford to pay, you were welcome to donate, but if you couldn’t you didn’t have to. The Foundation covered the remaining costs.

It seemed a little too good to be true, and you were a little nervous. You’d never dealt with trauma, PTSD, or anything like that before, but you were willing to learn for those who needed help.

Once again, you didn’t have anyone to talk to about this opportunity. Despite the ups and downs of the last few weeks, you really missed Natasha.

With a big sigh, you took the takeout food you’d ordered over to the couch and turned the TV on. The local news was on, and your favorite weatherman was mentioning how gorgeous and sunny it was going to be tomorrow. That was good news, at least.

The TV kind of became background noise as you concentrated on your dinner.

You looked back up, though, when you heard the reporter mention a fire.

“I’m here on the scene of a two-alarm fire at Japanese restaurant in the heart of Brooklyn, where multiple units have been dispatched to try to contain the blaze. We don’t yet know if anyone is trapped inside. Unofficial sources have told us that it started as a grease fire in the restaurant you’re seeing here.”

The camera zoomed, and you saw the awning of the restaurant that Bucky had taken you to on your date. You sat up, food forgotten, and watched in horror as his surrogate family’s restaurant burned to the ground.

The camera focused back on the reporter, and she held a hand to her earpiece, then nodded. “I’m getting new word in now, that one person – a woman, approximately in her sixties – was rescued from the apartment above the restaurant.”

The anchor at the desk gave a very serious nod. “Do you have any word about her condition, Sheila?”

Sheila shook her head. “Not at this time. I will keep everyone updated as Action News continues to be on the scene. Back to you, Tom.”

Your hands were shaking as you tried to google for any more details about the fire. No matter what had occurred between you and Bucky, you still hated to see that poor woman’s whole life go up in flames.

It was about twenty minutes later that Sheila came back on to report that the fire was contained with minor damage to surrounding buildings, but the restaurant was a total loss.

What you saw next completely shocked you.

Sheila was standing next to a soot-and-sweat-covered Bucky Barnes, in full fireman gear, and looking totally upset and uncomfortable.

“I’m told that you’re the fireman who rescued the woman from the apartment, is that accurate?”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly. “But I’m not going to comment about her identity or current condition.”

“Fair enough. Can you confirm that this fire is contained?”

“It’s about eighty-five percent contained at the moment, with three units assisting.” Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, then glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I have work to do.”

He turned and left Sheila standing there, a little flustered about his sudden departure.

Despite everything, you had the strongest urge to text him and ask how she was doing. You wanted to make sure he was okay, remembering how he lost his little sister in a fire. You couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind just then.

You didn’t text him that night, knowing that the rift between you was still there.

That didn’t stop your heart from hurting for him, though.

After a restless night’s sleep, you meandered around your apartment, slowly getting ready for your meeting with Sam. There was no saving the puffiness around your eyes, but the rest of you looked pretty good.

Your walk to the community center took you past the charred remains of the Japanese restaurant, now blocked by yellow caution tape. Your heart sank as you wondered what the poor woman would do, now that everything she’d worked for and built with her late husband was gone.

Maybe the foundation could help.

Maybe you’d see about helping them expand to any trauma victim.

That was getting way ahead of yourself, though, since you weren’t even technically offered anything more than a tour of the facilities.

Sam greeted you warmly when you arrived, and you were in awe of the sheer magnitude of what he had designed here. There was so much for someone to partake in for such a little building. Everything was handicap-accessible and user friendly. You could tell Sam really poured his heart into this project.

“So what do you think so far?”

You looked at Sam in awe. “I’m stunned that I didn’t know this was here sooner. I guess I didn’t do my research well enough.”

“It’s a growing project. We aren’t endorsed by a celebrity or anything, though quite a few are generous benefactors. In other words, the work ain’t sexy, but it helps a lot of people.”

“I’m sure.” You took a few steps forward to peer into the window of one of the therapy rooms. It was a closed-door session, but you were still impressed with what you could see. The session was small enough to allow for everyone to get a chance to talk, but big enough to not feel the pressure of talking if you didn’t want to. “Do they have breakout sessions, one-on-one?”

“Some do,” Sam nodded, walking over to you. “Sometimes the heavier cases require a more specific training for recovery.”

You nodded, stepping back from the window. “And what are the stats? Do you have more veterans, or first responders, or…?”

He shrugged. “A mix, I’d say. Not everyone’s a regular. Sometimes they just come back when their problems flare up. But that’s the kind of thing we’re prepared to handle here.”

“Got it.” You looked back at him nervously. “So I guess that concludes the tour?”

“Not exactly.” The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “If the foundation offered you the training to obtain your trauma therapy certifications, would you be willing to come help us out?”

What? Was that even a question? “Of course I would! This is exactly how I always envisioned myself helping others. And you don’t mind…”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Don’t mind what?”

“You don’t mind my past job experience?”

Sam chuckled, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m not about to hold your past mistakes against you if you’re sincere about your work here. You aren’t just that show; you had a great column, too. I’ll take a chance on you. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but I’m a big believer in second, third, fourth, however many chances someone needs, as long as they’re trying to be better.”

You could be better.

You could make a positive impact on people here, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

“When do I start?”

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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“What time is he getting here?”

“Well, since we’re having lunch together, I’d say sometime before lunchtime?”

“Very funny.”

“You asked, I answered.” You shrugged from your seat at the kitchen counter. Your laptop was in front of you, and you were sifting through some of your Love Therapist emails for Monday.

Natasha rolled her eyes at you from your couch, where she was currently flipping through the TV channels. “I’m meeting Steve today for lunch, too. Maybe you could join us?”

“I don’t want every other date to be a double with you and Steve, no offense.”

“None taken.” She finally gave up and clicked the off button, setting the remote down on the coffee table. Her eyes flickered to yours. “It’s your loss.”

“Is it? I packed a picnic basket full of food,” you reminded her, gesturing to the old-fashioned basket on the counter beside you. “Steve told me that Bucky loves the pastrami from that deli in the East Village, so I went there this morning.”

“You did all that this morning? What time did you wake up?” Natasha stood and casually wandered over to the basket, lifting the lid to peer inside. “Is there extra food, maybe?”

“No,” you laughed, shutting the lid. “I was out of bed early because I didn’t really sleep well. Last night, Bucky told me he didn’t want our relationship to go any further before he confessed something to me, but he got called out again.”

“Go any further?” She gave you a look. “How far could it have gone in only a couple dates?”

“He kissed me,” you admitted sheepishly. “It was after dinner.”

She slapped your shoulder lightly. “And you didn’t even tell me! What the hell, Y/N?”

“I didn’t tell you because his confession might be something terrible, like he comes from a family of mobsters who secretly murdered my ancestors, or he’s really my ninth cousin, or-“

“Oooh! What if he’s really Superman, and that fireman getup is just a disguise?”

“Be serious.” You frowned at you best friend. “This could be my last date with him.”

“Or, he’s going to confess that he’s a virgin or something.” Natasha shrugged her shoulder. “You just never know.”

“Have you seen him? Highly doubtful. Maybe he has a wife and kids.”

“Maybe an ex-wife and kids.”

“Ugh, I can’t take it anymore! That man needs to tell me everything, right now!”

Just as you were about to text him, you heard a knock on the door. Your eyes went wide, and you looked at Natasha.

I’ll get it, she mouthed.

You nodded, watching as she sauntered over to the door and swung it open, revealing a very handsome-looking Bucky Barnes.

“Hey there, Dapper Dan,” she cooed, throwing on the charm. “How’s your wife doing today?”

The look on his face alone told you that he definitely wasn’t hiding a secret family. “What?”

“Nothing.” She waved a hand, inviting him in. “I was just leaving. Have fun, you crazy kids!”

“See ya,” you called, sliding off the bar stool to stand beside the counter.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder in confusion at Natasha’s retreating form, before turning back to you. His expression immediately lightened with a smile. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” you greeted him, feeling a little shy, though you weren’t really sure why.

Maybe it was that crazy amazing kiss you had last night?

Anyways.

“Ready to go?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re hiding?” you blurted out, mentally cursing yourself for wording it that way.

His smile faded, his blue-grey eyes once again looking dull. “Yeah. We can talk about it.”

“Good.” You turned back around to shut your laptop, when your eyes caught sight of the subject line of the newest email. You moved closer, clicking on it.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, moving behind you.

“I got an email with the subject, ‘you’re over,’” you told him, eyes scanning the rest of the message.

“What?” Bucky leaned over your shoulder to read it, too. “Your show is shit, your advice is shit, and you need to stop ruining lives.“

“It sounds like some anonymous moron leaving a bad review.” You went to delete it, but Bucky’s hand stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said, frowning at your screen. “This person sounds pretty serious. Maybe you should show someone at work.”

“Show it to who, my boss?” You glanced back at the email. “May will probably tell me to do a whole episode around this email. No thanks.”

“I mean, if you’re getting emails like this, Y/N, you should tell them you don’t want to do the show anymore.” Bucky was fidgeting now. Why the hell was he getting so anxious over this?

“Like I said, it’s just a bad review. I probably pissed off a jilted lover or something. It’s not like I haven’t had feedback from those sort already. Remember that guy who accused me of ending his engagement? I’m not worried about it.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N…”

“Bucky…Just forget it, okay?” With a note of finality in your voice, you shut the laptop. “You know what? Let’s go have our picnic. I really need a distraction.” The idea of staying in your apartment, worrying over that email seemed like a terrible way to spend this beautiful Saturday.

Bucky glanced back over at your laptop, expression unreadable, before reluctantly agreeing.

“You’ve never been on a picnic in Brooklyn before? Get out.” Bucky shook his head at you in utter disbelief.

“I know you meant that as an exclamation, but I actually don’t get out much,” you admitted, as the two of you made your way past the gate to East River State Park. “At least not in my own neighborhood.”

You lived nearby, but you’d never actually visited this park. It was really freaking scenic. Manhattan glistened across the water, providing an excellent view.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m around then, isn’t it?”

You watched as he laid out the blanket he brought, and you plopped down beside him with your picnic basket. “It really is.”

“So, what did you bring?”

“Food,” you said dryly, earning a funny look from Bucky.

He scooted closer and lifted the lid, spying the sandwiches you’d packed. “No way, these are my favorite! When did you have time to go?”

“This morning.” You grabbed your own sandwich and unwrapped it. “A little birdie told me you liked their pastrami.”

“It’s my favorite,” he confirmed, taking a big bite and making a face like he never had anything better in his life. “So good.”

The tension you were carrying from the drama of the morning was slowly seeping away as you sat there with Bucky. He had that effect on you, something you hadn’t been willing to admit to yourself until this moment.

Normally, you’d be a little worried by now. After all, you were only a few dates in, and you both worked long hours.

This time seemed so different. He was different. Maybe he was helping you change for the better, too. Your mind briefly wandered to the confession he had yet to make, but things were going so well, you didn’t want to ruin things just yet. There was still time, you figured.

You just wanted one more happy date.

“You’re lost in thought,” he commented, setting down his prized sandwich to give you his full attention. “What are you thinking about?”

“Us,” you confessed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Bucky grinned at you, and you felt even warmer. “What about us?”

You shrugged, trying to seem relaxed about it, as if that was freaking possible. “Just, that things seem to be going suspiciously well.”

“Ah. Maybe we should turn to one of the famous Love Therapist’s couples’ quizzes to find out why we’re so compatible?”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Please, god no. Those aren’t mine; May left them up from when Leah was doing the show.”

To your horror, he was already pulling one up on his phone. “Let’s try the ‘Are You Made for Each Other?’ quiz, shall we?”

You buried your face in your hands, knowing where this was going. Natasha had taken this quiz the other day, using Steve as her example. Things were about to get real pretty quickly.

“It’s in two sections, one for each of us. We’ll start with yours. Question one,” he read, a mischievous grin on his face. “When you see your significant other, how do you feel?”

“Oh, so you’re my significant other now?” You bit back a grin, still hiding behind your hands.

“Yes. Obviously.” Bucky tugged on your arm, forcing you to show your face. “Sorry ‘bout that bad luck.”

Your heart fluttered a little at his answer. “How do I look like I feel? Because right now I’m mortified.”

“That’s really romantic,” he joked. “Mortified about how much you like me, I think. Okay, question two: what is your favorite thing about your significant other?”

You eyed him for a moment, and he stared back at you with interest. “Your incessant need to help and be kind to others.”

“Is that because I’m a fireman?”

“In general.”

“I like that answer.” Bucky sat up a little taller. “Question three: on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest, how attractive is your significant other?”

“That is not question three,” you laughed, grabbing for his phone.

He was too quick, pulling it out of your reach with a sheepish smile. “I know, I just wanted to see what you would say. Here’s the real question three: Do you feel you both want the same things in life?”

“Hmmm.” You weren’t sure how to answer that one, because you’d never had a discussion that serious with him. “You mean like sandwiches from the East Village, or a family?”

“What do you think?” Bucky tossed his phone down in front of him and scooted even closer to you, his sandwich forgotten on the blanket.

“Maybe we should move on to your part of the quiz?” Butterflies were winging their way around your stomach as he drew closer and closer.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need a quiz to tell me what I already know.” His face was so close you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

Bucky’s lips barely touched yours before that asshole phone of his started sounding again, alerting him to an incoming message.

“If that is another fire call, I’m going to have to end our relationship,” you informed him, regret filling your bones as he pulled back to look at the text.

He shook his head. “It’s just Steve. He wanted to let me know that someone dropped some stuff for me off at the firehouse.”

“Do you want to go get it?”

“Nah, it can wait.”

That would be the perfect way to break up this little too-much-too-soon party. “What if I really wanted to see where you worked?”

“You mean you want to see my fireman’s pole?” Bucky looked up at you with a wicked grin. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you that day in the coffee shop.”

You buried your face in your hands again.

The firehouse was freaking amazing. You’d only ever seen them in passing, or in movies or television shows, so this was all new and exciting.

Firefighters were such badasses.

You let Bucky lead you past the trucks and equipment, back to a little lounge area, where the first one to greet you was a familiar face.

“Hey there!” Steve offered you a warm hug and a bright smile. “Can’t believe you’re still putting up with this one.” Steve nodded at Bucky, who made a face at his friend before wrapping an arm around your waist possessively.

“Me either,” you agreed. “Sometimes you just can’t shake them.”

“You got that right. Barnes is like a plague or a barnacle. Barnacle Barnes!”

Your head whipped to the side at the unfamiliar voice. You hadn’t even realized another fireman was sitting in the lounge.

Yet another handsome man sat at the table, giving Bucky a dirty look.

What the hell? Did they have to submit photos and be approved by Tyra Banks to be firemen here? You’d never seen a workplace with such a large congregation of unbelievably attractive people.

“That’s Clint,” Bucky muttered in your ear, just loud enough for Clint to hear him. His warm breath tickled your skin. “Don’t give him the time of day.”

“Shut up, Barnacle!”

You chuckled, turning back to Steve. “Where’s Natasha?”

“I’m on my way to meet her now.” Steve gave a nod. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“We already ate,” Bucky replied. “Where did you put my stuff?”

“It’s by your locker.”

Bucky looked at you. “You don’t mind waiting a couple minutes, do you?”

“Go ahead, I’ll entertain myself here with Clint.”

“Ugh,” he made a face. “I wish anyone else but Clint was here right now.”

“Bite me, Barnes,” Clint called from the table.

“Go on,” you told him, giving him a gentle push. “I’ll be here.”

“Keep your paws to yourself, Barton,” Bucky practically growled before he turned to leave.

When he disappeared from sight, you sat down beside Clint. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Clint’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’re the Y/N? The Love Therapist lady?”

“Yeah,” you said, sinking a little further in your seat. You definitely didn’t like being recognized, you decided. “That’s me, at least temporarily.”

“Wow,” he said, leaning back and giving you a once-over. “You definitely don’t seem like how they described you. Why are you here with Barnes? Did you guys make up to play nice or something?”

“Make up?” you repeated. “What do you mean?”

Clint stared at you blankly. “I just never thought Bucky would be cool hanging out with the woman who told his fiancée to call off their wedding, that’s all. The day she did it, after your show, it took three of us to calm him down.”

You froze in place, trying to process what Clint just said. “W-what?” Surely he was mistaken, there was no way…he must be confused…

“Yeah, apparently she – her name is Wanda, by the way – called herself Confused in Brooklyn. Broke Bucky’s heart that very day. They were gonna get married that weekend.”

You stared, unblinking, trying to process what he was saying.

“Oh shit. He didn’t tell you?” Clint leaned forward. “I thought you knew, since you’re here? I mean, he pretty much vowed to get revenge on you right here in this very lounge.” He leaned back again with a shrug. “Then again, his version of revenge might be subjecting someone to his presence.”

Your mind was reeling, and you were feeling a little faint, like your limbs were made of rubber. “You…you guys don’t watch the show online here, do you?”

“Hell no,” Clint said with a laugh. “No offense, but that’s some cheesy shit right there. No, we only watched the one episode where you told Wanda to leave Bucky. We only knew it was her after Steve told us, so we pulled up the show on my phone and watched it over and over until Bucky got pissed and stormed out.”

“And h-he vowed to get revenge on me?” You couldn’t feel your limbs; was this what his confession was going to be about?

“Yeah. I don’t think he meant physically, or anything. But he did google you, saw you got tagged in some coffee joint in a picture or something. He took off, claiming he needed coffee, but Steve called him out on it. He went with him to make sure nothing bad happened.”

Your eyes filled with tears, and a wave of nausea hit you. “Steve knew, too?”

Clint’s face grew serious. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

You managed to shake your head. “I h-have to go.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything! You walked in here with him like you made amends!”

“We’ve been…we’ve been dating,” you mumbled, standing up and turning away. “I have to go.”

“Shit, Barnes is going to kill me for-”

You didn’t hear anymore as you wandered outside, letting the door slam behind you. Everything was static and noise, and your ears were ringing on top of it. Since your legs were like jelly, you hailed a cab and gave the driver an address where you knew he wouldn’t find you.

He was the guy who had emailed you, telling your viewers not to take your advice...

What if he had sent the email this morning, too? He’d been in your kitchen when you first saw it, but he could have easily put a delivery delay on it or something to throw you off. After all, he’d been acting so weird after you received it.

Was it all an act? The dates, the soft words, the concern...the kisses?

Was it all part of a bigger plan to get back at you? He knew where you worked, knew where you lived, had your number…he had even stalked you on social media.

This was bad. You fumbled in your bag for your phone as the cab sped away from the firehouse.

You had to get far away from Bucky Barnes.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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“I don’t want to do a live episode today, Natasha.”

Your best friend moved around your desk to put a hand on your shoulder. “I know, sweetie, but it’s been nearly a week. May wants new episodes.”

“He was right, you know.” You rested your head on your hand, staring at the laptop in front of you.

“Who was right?”

“Bucky.”

“Oh, don’t get started on that again, Y/N. He lied to you. Men lie all the time. Let it go.”

You could feel something like anger starting to bubble inside of you. “Steve lied to you, too!”

“See? Like I said.” Nat went back around to the other side of your desk to grab a chair, then she dragged it so she was sitting beside you. “I’m over it, so you should be, too.”

“Are you, though? Where were you last night? I tried to call you like three times, and you didn’t even read my texts.”

“I was out,” she shrugged, looking down at your laptop, too. “I’m allowed to go out.”

“Out with…?”

“A guy I met on the internet.”

“Bullshit. Guys lie to me, but my best friend isn’t supposed to.”

Natasha sighed, sitting back and giving you a look. “Fine, I was out with Steve, okay?”

“What?!” You stood up quickly, causing her to stand too so she didn’t fall over. “How could you?”

“Calm down! I just went to let him say what he wanted to say to me, to let him explain himself, that’s all.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what did he say?” You reached for your phone, shoving it in your pocket.

“He said that he was sorry, that he was just trying to protect his best friend, and that he never thought it would get out of control like it did.”

“Like what did?”

“The plan,” she sighed. “I might as well tell you what I know.”

“Please do.” Your hands went to your hips as you waited for her to explain.

Natasha’s gaze locked onto yours, and you could see the regret shining in her eyes. She didn’t want you to know, but she was telling you anyway, because that’s what friends do.

“According to Steve, Bucky wanted to meet you and make you like him, so that he could break your heart like Wanda broke his.”

Okay. That’s pretty much what you had been expecting with only a few pieces of the story. You nodded, looking down at your feet. “Did he say anything else?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Like what?”

You shrugged, looking out the window. “Whatever.”

“I’m glad you asked. He did mention more about Bucky. He said Bucky’s beside himself. He’s miserable.”

“Good.” The carpet was suddenly really interesting to you.

“You don’t mean that,” she scoffed. “What harm did he really cause?”

You looked back up to glare at her. “What harm? How about my lack of trust in other people? How about my anxiety? About not knowing if someone’s going to come after me for this stupid YouTube show? How about that, Natasha?”

Just as she was about to speak again, you pressed on, holding a hand up to silence her.

“Don’t forget the creepy emails, Nat. Ugh! I sat with him and let him kiss me, several times. He invaded my personal space, Natasha, with bad intentions!”

“What crazy emails? And keyword: you let him!”

“I don’t need this right now!” you shouted, pushing past her and storming out the door.

Why couldn’t she see how terrible this was? It had been so long since any date had gone well, and now you knew it was only going so well because it was according to his plan.

You knew it was too good to be true.

The show wasn’t scheduled to go live for another ten minutes, so you had time.

Your shoes clicked as you marched down the hallway and away from your office. You pushed the call button on the elevator, needing some fresh air before you went back to face Nat, May, Scott, and anyone else that wanted you to go live and talk about love when you knew nothing of it.

The lobby was bustling as usual, and you pushed past security, through the glass doors to freedom.

There was a little bench outside of the main lobby, where you sometimes liked to sit and people watch. Sometimes you couldn’t, because it was raining, or because some opportunistic pigeon had done its business all over it.

Today, however, the sun was shining, there was a warm breeze, and not one single pigeon was in sight. You leaned back against the bench, lifting your face to the sun for a moment, trying to forget all your troubles.

Trouble, however, had a much different idea.

You felt the bench move when someone sat down beside you, but you figured it was just another person trying to catch a break.

“Y/N.”

If you hadn’t been sitting down already, you would have fallen over at the sound of Steve’s voice. “I’m going to let you say what you want to say, Rogers, for Natasha’s sake, but I have to do this stupid show in-“ you checked the time “- five minutes, so whatever you have to say, make it quick.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, his blue eyes focused on you.

“Well?”

“Bucky is a mess,” Steve blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck in obvious discomfort.

“Me too. That’s what happens when you play with people’s feelings.”

He shook his head. “That day he met you in the coffee shop was planned, sure, but the rest of it was him. I can guarantee that. He genuinely likes you, Y/N.”

“So why didn’t he tell me right away?”

“Would you have?”

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t have stalked me in the first place!”

“Fair enough,” Steve said, holding his hands up briefly to try to calm the mood. “I am just telling you what I know as his best friend. I want the same things for him that you would want for Natasha.”

Feh. You didn’t have a rejoinder for that, and the two of you sat in silence for a beat.

“He said you changed your number.”

“Had to. He wouldn’t stop calling me.”

“He also said that you blocked his emails.”

“Steve, did you come here to tell me things I already know, or was there a point to all this?”

He let out a deep sigh, glancing around the street before turning his gaze to you again. “I’m not here to speak for Bucky. I know he’s got a lot of explaining to do on his own, and he wants to tell you. I’m here to ask you to let him have that chance.”

Your eyes roamed Steve’s features for a second, taking in the bright blue of his eyes, the blond hair, the small lips and high cheekbones. He was good for Natasha, and you didn’t want to ruin things for her, even if your own love life was a disaster.

“What do you say, Y/N? At least let him explain.” Steve’s voice was soft as he gave a final plea.

“Fine,” you agreed, a little less reluctantly than you’d been expecting. “But he has to come here and talk to me. I’m not meeting him in a park or a dark alley or anything.”

Steve’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, and you laughed with him, feeling better about everything. “I think I can arrange that.”

“And tell him to stop sending me emails, that shit is not cool.”

His laugh ended abruptly. “You got it.”

“There she is! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Scott looked like he was about to pace a line through the floor in your office.

“I’m here, I’m here. Natasha, a little warning next time?”

She gave you a bright smile. “It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“Maybe?” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much credit. “Plus, he said he’d get Bucky to stop emailing me all those creepy messages to my work email.”

“What creepy messages?” Nat looked from you, to Scott, then back. “Bucky told Steve he only sent the one in to work here, on your second episode.”

“No, I’ve been getting them since then, too. In fact, I got one right in front of Bucky right before our picnic the other day.”

“What did it say?” Scott asked, frowning at you.

“It said something like…um…your show and advice are shit, stop ruining lives.”

“Yeah, no. By the time Bucky took you on that picnic, he already had feelings for you. No way would he have written that.”

You sat down in front of your laptop to confirm your suspicions. “Well, who is it, then?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not him.”

“You don’t know that, Natasha. The man is obviously a good liar.”

“I do so! How did he react when you noticed the email?”

“He seemed anxious about it. He told me to report it to May.”

“See? Would someone guilty of writing it want you to report him?”

She had a point. “But, what if it’s reverse psychology?”

“You’re killing me, Y/N. It’s time to do your show. You’re already a minute late.”

“Fine. But this is live, and I want you to make sure no creepers call.”

“What if Bucky participates and he identifies himself ahead of time?”

“Why would he want to?”

Natasha smirked, sitting down beside you again. “I told him to.”

“I really, really hate you.”

“You do not!”

Scott clapped his hands once. “Ladies, it’s go time. Three…two…”

You pulled your eyes off Natasha in time to look at the camera and fake a smile. “Hello, this is Y/N, and you’re watching another live episode of The Love Therapist, where I try to answer your questions and offer advice. First question, please, Natasha.”

“Your first question comes from someone who called in. I’m going to put him on speakerphone. Say hello to everyone, Confused in Brooklyn’s Ex-Fiance!”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her phone, which she was holding up to show viewers. “We accept phone calls now?”

“Yep,” Nat replied. “Go ahead, Ex-Fiancé!”

“I think I’d prefer to just be called Sorry in Brooklyn, now, Natasha.” Bucky’s voice filled your ears, and you didn’t know whether to grin or cry at the sound. You hated to admit it, but you missed him.

“You got it, Sorry. Go ahead, say what you want to say.”

This could not be happening.

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hello, Sorry. Care to explain why you’re, uh, calling today?”

“For all your viewers or whatever, I’m the guy whose fiancée you told to cancel the wedding.”

“We’ve been over this, Sorry. I simply gave vague advice, and your fiancée took it a certain way to come to her own-“

“Okay, well. Anyways, I’m that guy. I sent the message the next day, and I criticized your advice and your attitude about it. I was mad as hell, and everyone around me tried to stop me, but I came up with this plan to teach you a lesson.”

You nodded slowly, eyes on the camera, wondering if he was watching you live on the internet as he spoke. “And then what happened?”

“I found out that you lived near where I worked, and your friend there, Natasha, tagged you in an Instagram post showing you were at a coffee place nearby. I high-tailed it down there, intent on meeting you.”

“And why is that, Sorry?”

“Because I wanted to see if I could get you interested in me, then break your heart. I wanted you to feel the same way I felt when my ex dumped me days before our wedding.”

“Is that because your relationship with her hadn’t been going on for very long, either, Sorry?”

Natasha smacked your leg lightly, but you merely waited for his answer.

“Part of it was that I thought that’s how quickly feelings developed. I still feel that way, though my perception on a true connection is different now.” He paused. “I thought if I could get you roped into a relationship, it’d be so easy to walk away and slam a door in your face. I thought I could give you a taste of your own medicine, make you regret your casual advice.”

“And then what happened, Sorry?” Natasha spoke up this time, as if she could tell you were dreading his next sentences, knowing they would change everything one way or another.

“I didn’t realize that Y/N would be so…she’s just…”

“Just what?” Her eyes flashed. “And let me remind you that if this is a continuation of your little prank, that I know where you work and I’d be happy to-“

“…perfect,” he said finally.

“Well, now we know he’s still lying,” Natasha joked, looking over at you. Now her eyes were shiny; she was a sucker for this shit.

You shook your head at her, then turned back to the camera. “I think we established that I’m nowhere near perfect, Sorry. Gonna need you to do a little better than cheap compliments.”

“That first date, when you had a funny comeback for everything I threw at you…Your eyes sparkled and you smiled at me, and suddenly there was a face and a grin in place of this unknown horrible bitch monster who ended my engagement.”

“That’s a fine, flattering image you’re painting of Y/N, Sorry.” If Natasha tried to smile any wider, she’d hurt her jawbone.

“Move it along, Sorry, I have other questions to get to.”

“Anyways, I’m in love with you, I think.”

The whole room went silent, and all you could manage to do is blink in shock at the camera.

After a moment, Scott cleared his throat, and you focused on forming a reply.

“You’re not in love with me, Sorry. You’re just hurting from your past relationship, and you and I had a couple fun dates, and now it’s over.”

“I don’t want it to be over.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you sent me those creepy emails. Good luck! Next question, please.”

“Wait, Y/N, what creepy emails? No, I really, I mean it, I-“

His voice disappeared as you grabbed Natasha’s phone from her hand and pressed end.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she hissed, grabbing it back from you.

“The caller was confused,” you explained to the camera. “You can’t fall in love with someone that soon, just like you shouldn’t get married to someone after seven months of barely knowing someone. Next. Question.”

When she refused to move, you sighed and pulled the laptop to you, so that you could read your own questions. Natasha stormed out of the room, and you let her go.

After all, the show must go on, right? That’s what May and Maria say.

You tried to take a deep breath, then another, to reel in your emotions, before you read out the next question. “User Nervous-In-Hauppauge writes: I’m trying to think of a good way to propose to my fiancée. She hates surprises and being the center of attention, though. How should I propose?”

You let out a sigh. “Well, Nervous, I have one word for you. Don’t. Let her be free. Love is a joke and marriage is just a legal contract. Next question.”

Scott rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in frustration behind the scenes, but you weren’t deterred.

“This next one comes from SouthernBelle42! She writes: I really like a girl in my economics class at my university, but I don’t know how to ask her out? I’ve never asked out anyone before. Help!”

Your eyes flickered back up to the camera. “SouthernBelle42, there’s nothing romantic about life. Dating is awkward and difficult, and a lot of times, very hurtful. I would suggest that you get a nice cat or dog, and settle in for the long haul.”

Answering questions was a lot easier when you just didn’t give a shit anymore.

“Our final question of the day comes from…” Your voice trailed off as you realized the next user question in the queue. “Really? All right, if you want to start this, then that’s on you.”

You clicked the email to expand the text. “The final question is from NotSorryInBrooklyn. I can’t guarantee that it’s the same person from earlier, but I can’t rule it out, either. It reads: Why are you still answering questions and giving advice? I thought we all agreed that you have no business doing this?”

You paused, feeling your chest tighten, though you weren’t sure if it was from anger or something else. If this was Bucky, it was a sadistic thing to do. If it wasn’t Bucky…still sadistic.

“Well, whoever you are, you win. How does that sound? Can we cut, Scott? I’m done here.”

The camera wasn’t even off before you sprinted out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, where you hid yourself in a stall and locked the door.

Now, there were endless possibilities.

Why had Natasha wanted to air your dirty laundry live, in front of so many viewers? Now copycats and bad people could take advantage of your thing with Bucky, using it to distort the truth all over again.

Maybe Bucky really hadn’t sent those other emails.

Who the hell would have known before that, though?

Who would do such a thing?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Maria’s voice echoed in the otherwise empty bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back, wiping furiously at your eyes. “Just needed a minute.”

“Scott told me what happened. Do you want me to talk to May for you?”

Scott, that rat. You knew he was only looking out for you, but he couldn’t possibly understand how you were feeling.

You opened the stall door and glanced in the mirror before turning to Maria with your puffy eyes. “Talk to her about what, exactly?”

“The show. You know, how you really don’t want to do it. That’s what Scott said at least. I can probably get her to find someone else?” She gave you a smile that didn’t really reach her eyes.

“Whatever, Maria. Do what you think is best for the company. I really don’t care at this point. I have to go.”

“Okay. Hope you feel better, Y/N.”

You nodded at her, then pushed the door open and walked back to your office. Scott was still sitting there, looking horribly uncomfortable.

“Y/N,” he said, standing as soon as he saw you. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. It was all totally off the cards here.”

“It’s fine, Scott. I get it. Ratings gold, right? Ad revenue out the wazoo.” You turned away from him, leaning your hands along the window pane and seeking out your comfort buildings. There’s the Empire State Building, there’s the-

“Y/N, what the hell was that last episode? And I hesitate to call it that, because it was truly a disaster.”

You whirled around to find May in your office, fury written all over her face. You were so focused on calming your anxiety, you didn’t even hear May come in or see Scott sneak out to avoid her wrath.

“I guess you were watching?”

“Yes, but I’m sorry I did. You had over one-hundred and fifty thousand viewers over the course of the hour, Y/N, and you wrap a show like that? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Well, no offense, May, but a hundred thousand views means ad money for you either way, right? So what’s the problem here?”

“The problem, Love Therapist, is that you’re ruining the show’s reputation, the one Leah worked really hard to build for the company!”

She moved a little further into the office, and you suddenly knew how caged animals felt. Your fight or flight mode was telling you to bolt, but your brain wanted to mouth off a little longer.

“Oh yes, Leah, the patron saint of accepting gifts and favors from Tony Stark’s clients. That Leah? Great reputation she had, there.”

“I’ll remind you that I am your boss, and I don’t need your attitude. If I say that you need to make up for this- this shitshow you’ve presented today, then that’s what you need to do.”

“I’m not the one who’s letting fake comments through from people who are harassing me, May! What are you planning on doing to protect me from these crazies, huh? Do I need to seek out a lawyer?”

May had the decency to look confused. “What are you on about?”

“The emails, May, the comments about how I’m over and my show is shit and if I don’t quit, blah blah blah. I’ve been getting threats ever since Bucky – the ex-fiancé – started his tirade.”

“Well, do you have any enemies that would try to harass you at work? I really don’t want you bringing your personal trouble into this, Y/N.”

“Don’t want me bringing my trouble into this? May, you’ve been begging me to bring my personal trouble here since the second you asked me to take over for Leah.”

Your eyes widened then, as a thought hit you. “Oh my god. It’s probably Leah.”

“What?” May shook her head. “Leah’s long gone. We gave her a generous severance package.”

“Maybe you ought to make sure IT revoked Leah’s credentials?”

You watched as realization flooded her features.

“I’ll get them on it immediately,” she promised. “If it’s not her, we’ll trace the emails. But I still need you to fix this. I want you to apologize on camera, and I want you to resume answering things properly, in a way that doesn’t scream crazy and bitter.”

That sort of settled it for you. “May, I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t have to find someone else, Y/N. You’re the next best thing after Leah, and we need you.”

Well, now you were pissed.

You moved so you were in front of her, no longer cowering by the window. “No, May. This isn’t not a soap opera, or a webisode of some scripted drama. These are real people. The questions are anonymous for a reason. They deserve someone who cares about the show, someone who wants to put up with the bullshit that goes along with it.”

“What if I told you that if you didn’t apologize and continue the show, there would be some pretty steep consequences?”

“I still wouldn’t.” You could feel your anger about to bubble over, and you knew what you needed to say next.

She squared up, face stern, to challenge you. “And why is that?”

“Because, May, I quit.”

You didn’t even give her a chance to say another word, and you weren’t exactly sure that she could, since she looked pretty stunned. You grabbed your bag, your jacket, and your phone, and left your former office for good.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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