The mention of him, the name itself, makes you drop the thick set of keys and the small stack of letters you hold, sending them clattering to the floor. He stops speaking and blinks down at them, then back at you, before he crouches down to collect them.

“… And I’m here to make amends.” He stands slowly and holds out your keys and letters, lips pursed tightly as he waits for you to say something, or react at all. But you’re still staring at him, still unable to tear your eyes away until he waves the items, making your keys jingle a bit, and you snap out of it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, seemingly sincerely, but your voice is gone, and you can only nod as you carefully, hesitantly, take your things back from him, thankful when he steps back again. He stares at you with a sad frown, and you want so desperately to open your mouth and to say something, anything, but you just can’t.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes another step back.

“I’m… I’m going to go home now.” He tells you pointedly, and you can only nod once more. He turns his back and begins to walk.

You take that moment to shakily shove your key into the lock, quickly heaping yourself inside and slamming closed the door.

Making sure you lock your door once again, you can’t stop the sobs that wrack your body, sliding down the heavy wood and curling yourself into a ball.

You don’t hear him stop at the end of the hallway, you don’t hear the way he curses under his breath.

-

You laugh wildly and wave off your friends, shaking your head as you enter your apartment building. Even as the doors shut you can still hear them talking and laughing loudly as they return to their own buildings, but let the first peaceful sounds of quiet hit you as you jab the button for the elevator and make your way up to your place.

The alcohol buzzing through your veins amplifies reality and you ponder what an odd sensation it is to be so cognisant of yourself when you’re finally alone after a night of being surrounded by others. You lean heavily against the elevator wall and pull your graduation cap from your head when you realise you’re still wearing it.

It wasn’t the first time you’d graduated, but it was the last.

Excitement bubbles in you once again as you exit the lift onto your floor, all the possibilities and futures that lay before you making you feel unstoppable. You were going to be big, the things you were going to do were going to be big and now that you were fully and properly accredited, you couldn’t wait to prove to the world what you could do.

You unlock your apartment door on the third try, and stumble as you throw your cap and purse on the counter. Tomorrow you would call back Stark Industries and formally accept their offer, but for now, you needed water, a shower and bed. In that order.

You don’t bother turning on the lights in your apartment as you stumble through it, moving for your bathroom, however, when you reach the main hallways that lead to your bedroom, you pause and frown, switching the light next to you on as you stare down the passage.

You could have sworn you’d shut your bedroom door… In fact, you’d made a point of it before you’d left that morning… but here it was, wide open, and even swinging slightly like it were caught in a breeze.

In your drunken haze, you only frown deeper and move further down the hall, tiptoeing as quietly as you could, as if you were going to catch a ghost or an intruder off guard, but when you reach the doorway and switch the light on, you’re greeted by nothing.

A breath of anxiety leaves your lungs. It had been a busy morning, you could have easily forgotten that you’d gone back in after you’d shut it.

You relax, and kick it open further, shuffling forward before closing it behind you, but it stalls, refusing to click into place. A little frustrated now, you push on it harder, looking down at your floor to make sure there was nothing stopping it from shutting, but everything was clear. With an annoyed growl, you tear the door open again, intending to inspect the door frame itself, but you’re stunned frozen.

A man stands before you, completed shadowed in black, all but his eyes covered. You don’t even have time to react, you open your mouth to scream, but his hand shoots out, grabbing your jaw, the noise dying out before you can even make it.

Your body trembles, tries to back away, tries to run but he already has you, a grip stronger than what seemed real pulling you by where he holds you.

“Pack only essentials.” His voice is monotone and dark, and from his free hand, he throws a black duffle bag at your feet between you. His words left no room for argument, no terms for negotiation and yet your inebriated mind throws this out the window. You manage to latch onto the nearest item, a small lamp on the cupboard next to you, and with strength you didn’t know you had, you smash the thing into the side of the man’s head.

He releases you, hissing, and you run, somehow past him, your sloppy, drunken movements tamed somewhat by the adrenaline coursing through you.

You make it to your kitchen, to your purse and your phone, but then he’s there, hand grabbing yours and squeezing so hard your phone breaks under his grip. Intense and unrivalled pain lances through your fingers and palm, joined by a strange burning sensation. You become acutely aware of the snapping sound of bones until he lets go.

“Do not run.” He warns, though it sounds more like a threat, and with his body now bearing down over yours, and the pain in your hand, you lash out with your other, trying to push him away, maybe injure his eyes. Your fingers catch on something hard though, and you only manage to dislodge his mask, revealing his full face to you.

You don’t know or recognise him, and there was something so cold and unfeeling about his expression despite the situation you were in that makes your skin crawl. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home, like his brain was completely disconnected from his body and actions, right up until his eyes narrow, and he lifts a fist.

You can’t help but glance at the appendage before it crashes into your face, something catching your eye about it as the moonlight pouring in from your living room window hits it, and you realise, it was silver.

The last thing you remember before he knocks you out is the strange, but all-too-familiar whirring of a mechanical arm.

You wake up with a start, air trying to claw its way out of your lungs desperately. Your wide eyes search the room, and momentarily you see nothing but four grey walls, slowly closing in on you, before your senses begin to return, and your familiar bedroom fades through the nightmarish vision.

Sounds of the city waking up outside serve to ground you, and you slump back against your pillows for a few seconds, allowing your breathing and heart rate to calm down before you peel yourself out of bed slowly, cringing at the way your hair sticks to your clammy, sweaty skin.

The cold Brooklyn morning is comforting to you, and although you’d usually sleep longer than this on a work night, you know you won’t be going back to bed any time soon. You make your way to your small, cramped bathroom and switch the lights on, quickly discarding your clothes.

When you reach for the tap, you pause, eyes fixated on your hand, the one you hand remember clear as day being all but crushed in his grip. It had healed, but the broken bones weren’t the worst of it.

They’d taken your soulmark.

You don’t know why they did, you guess it had something to do with making sure there were no loose ends as far as your abduction went. They’d cut the mark from your hand, burned the wound, until it healed into just a lump of scarred, white skin.

Out of all the things they’d taken from you, it was this that hurt the most. They’d taken everything and left you with nothing, not even that which you were fated for. Knowing that somewhere out there, your soulmate would be waiting, wondering where you were, but you’d never be able to find them, never be able to know for sure if they were the one...

The first blasts of cold water shock the thoughts from your mind, and you immerse yourself, basking in the feeling against your hot skin, before the water finally begins heating, fogging up the room.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the white tile.

“They’re gone. You’re free, and they’re gone…” You begin repeating softly, the familiar mantra only just audible over the running water.

You hadn’t had a nightmare in months, not one so vivid anyway, not one that made sense, that was more a memory playing itself back than a dream. You didn’t sleep well as a rule, but normally your bad dreams consisted of other things.

You know it’s not a coincidence, not when he’d shown up at your door a week ago.

You knew he was innocent. You knew that. He’d been brainwashed and tortured and he was innocent… But that didn’t make everything you’d experienced less real. Coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t some monster was hard when all you wanted was someone to hate.

You suppose you just never thought you’d ever see him again in the flesh.

It was easier to fear the memory of something, but when it showed up at your door, apologising and wishing to make amends…

Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop thinking about him. What had he meant about making amends? Why had he sought you out after so long? What did he want?

Maybe that’s why when he shows up at your door again, you aren’t so terrified.

He definitely gives you a fright, but no more than anyone would seeing as you’d opened your front door just as he’d raised a fist to knock on it. A momentary flash of fear makes your eyes widen, but you’re rather surprised when it seems to pass over you, settling down into something more like unease.

For his part, Barnes looks a little bewildered, like he’d been caught out, and you wonder briefly, with no small amount of discomfort, how long he’d been standing there.

You both stare at each other, until he finally forces open his mouth and speaks.

“I can go, if you want,” He blurts, eyes darting over your features quickly, but always returning to your eyes.

“But I just came to ask if there’s anything I can do for you?” He nods slightly after speaking, as if he’d been practising the words and had delivered them just as intended.

You blink at him, completely taken aback, but somehow managing to find your voice this time. Is this what he’d meant by ‘making amends’?.

“I… I don’t know…?” You shuffle from one foot to the other.

“My… My friend told me that I should seek out people I hurt… to be ‘of service’.” He tells you quickly, as if he suddenly felt the need to explain himself. Honestly, it’s helpful, helping you put together more pieces of whatever the hell this puzzle was.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You say carefully, trying not to sound like you’d been practicing. You see his brow furrow, and his lips pull into a thin line.

“HYD– They were the ones who did it…” You take a deep breath, adjusting your hold on your reusable shopping bags. His eyes flicker to them briefly, but are back on your face in a blink.

“I read about you… after, I mean… I know you weren’t…” You lift a hand and tap your temple, though immediately cringe.

Barnes lips quirk, but any semblance of a smile disappears soon after, his eyes turning strangely soulful. With his haircut and altogether more well-kept look, it was hard to see why you’d been so scared of him the other day… he didn’t even look like the same person anymore.

“Sure. But I still did those things… I still owe you.”

You stare at each other again for a long while, almost like you were both just reacquainting yourselves with what you looked like. You weren’t exactly put-together yourself right now, but you can’t imagine you look any worse than when you were a literally prisoner of HYDRA.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks again a moment later, and you suddenly remember that you were standing in your doorway, disrupted in your task.

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I have to go,” You shake your head, and attempt to dismiss him for now. The store was only open for another hour before your shift started.

“I need to get my groceries before the shop closes.”

Barnes steps back, gives you plenty of room as you pull your door shut behind you, locking it securely. But when you turn back to him, his face seems to have perked up. It’s odd to see on him, honestly.

“I can carry them for you.”

You stare at one another again, and you find for some reason you can’t say no.

Perhaps you just wanted to see the former Winter Soldier carry your groceries.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

Not as much as seeing him trail behind you in the aisles does. You wonder if your sudden ease at his presence is similar to the ease you have when there’s a spider in your bathroom… You don’t want it around exactly, but if you’ve got your eyes on it, at least you know where it is.

You keep to your short list of needs, mostly trying to ignore the fact that this was very, very strange all things considered, and when you’ve finished and gone through the checkout, he grabs all six of your bags and waits for you to lead the way.

“Do you… do you live in the city?” You can’t help but ask him on the walk back. He looks at you, almost surprised, but nods, and averts his gaze again.

“In Bed-Stuy.”

It’s your turn to be surprised.

“That’s only a couple of blocks. I’ve never seen you around before.” You marvel. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained to the pavement.

“I know.”

Silence falls between you again, and prevails until you reach your building.

“Thanks. This has been… weird.” You tell him truthfully, watching how his lips quirk in that almost-smile again. He hands you your bags of groceries and then looks about.

“You do this every Thursday?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I just forgot all week, and I really needed milk.”

He hums under his breath, frowning slightly again as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad. You watch him scribble something on a page, before he rips it out and holds it out to you.

“That’s my number… if you ever need anything, call me. I’ll come.” Barnes says seriously. Nodding, you reach out to gingerly pluck the paper from his fingers, but he keeps a hold of it for a moment longer, locking eyes with you.

“Anything.” He reiterates. Swallowing, you nod again, and he releases the page.

“Thanks, uh–”

“–Bucky… Please just call me Bucky.”

You watch him with a strange feeling filling your chest as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and steps away from you. It takes you a few seconds to build up the courage to actually say his name.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

---

Bucky waits until you’ve disappeared inside your apartment building before he quickly pulls his hands from his pockets, hissing in discomfort as he finally attends to the searing, itching burn that had suddenly begun attacking his soulmark.

A few good scratches does the trick, but it leaves him with an entirely different sensation.

Bucky stares up at your apartment building, despair and dread settling deep in his belly. Realisation spurns on a hundred memories, a hundred memories now with a new context, a worse context, and Bucky feels completely nauseous.

You were his soulmate.

And HYDRA had made you afraid of him.

For having grown up in a place as dull and frozen as the northeast, Louisiana was endlessly inviting and enticing — you loved the heat, loved the energy and spirit of those around you, loved living in a place where you could hear the ocean. Proof that something bigger, and more powerful, than anything occupying your world was out there; and here you were, coexisting with it. Yes, you loved your newfound life here — and you owed it all to one James Buchanan Barnes.

He had finally coaxed you out of your Brooklyn apartment one Memorial Day weekend, with an open invitation from Sam and Sarah to stay in the extra bedroom; you had been worried about the imposition, but after Bucky had put Sam on speakerphone one evening to guilt you into the visit, you finally conceded. When you packed your bag for the holiday weekend, you had no idea that you would come to love the small town within a matter of three days; but you had, and from the moment you and Bucky had touched down at JFK, you knew you were ready to go back.

You had eagerly leapt on any invitation that was extended, and one late summer evening while Sam and Bucky played with AJ and Cass in the yard, you found yourself watching them from the open window — you came to the realization that something about this moment just felt right. Like the pieces were finally coming together, after a lifetime of feeling scattered, feeling lost. Sarah picked up on the look in your eye easily, but that came as little surprise. The two of you had gotten to be good friends through the course of your visits, spending many a evening on her porch with a glass of iced tea — or wine — and she had a knack for seeing into people as it was.

She leaned back into the countertop, looking at you with a knowing smile. “You and Bucky seem happy here.”

You were startled out of your reverie, having been lost in the picturesque moment of joy in front of you; Sam was teaching AJ some boxing moves, and Bucky was wrestling with Cass, letting him win as he pinned him into the overgrown grass. Sarah’s comment had been spot on; you were certainly happier here than you had been anywhere else. “Yeah, we are happy here,” you sighed with a smile. “Things feel... right. I don’t have a better word for it, we can blame that on the wine — but yeah, things feel right.”

“Feels like home?”

Ah, yes. That was the word for it.

Your apartment in Brooklyn was nice, it was cozy and familiar, and you certainly loved it more now that it was shared with Bucky and Alpine. But when you thought about home — the brownstone wasn’t what came to mind. You thought about Louisiana, you thought about exactly where you were in this moment. You thought of cookouts filled with family, friends, and food; you thought of early morning trips to the small diner for the best biscuits and gravy to grace this earth; you thought of the many late nights spent drunkenly dancing with Bucky on the docks, while the two of you hummed off-key.

Taking a sip of your wine, you turned to look at Sarah. “Yeah, home. That’s the word.”

She nodded, her assessment having been correct. She seemed to think about her next words carefully, pausing before speaking again. “Have you two ever thought about moving here?”

You blinked in surprise to her question. “N-no, or at least, I haven’t — I mean, we have the apartment, and...” you trailed off, realizing that the only thing keeping you tied to the city was the fact that your belongings were there. You laughed, rubbing your hands across your face as the realization hit you. If this felt like home, why not make it home?

“There’s a house going up for sale down the road. You remember the Braxton’s, they were here for the Fourth of July. Her husband passed recently, so her son’s moving her in with his family, and they’re looking to sell the house.”

Your heart rate began to pick up speed as flashes of images ran through your mind — a house with Bucky, a home, one in a place where the two of you felt more at peace than you had ever believed to be possible. You thought of dinners shared in the late evening sun, mornings spent on the docks, Christmases shared with those who you considered as family — without the hassle of plane tickets. You coughed as you cleared your throat, trying to dislodge the nervousness that had settled there. “You think... d’you think that Bucky would want — would want to move?”

Sarah laughed, a bright and boisterous sound filling the kitchen that had always been brimming with love. “That man would move heaven and earth for you, if you asked. I think he’d be more than happy to move some furniture.”

***

Sarah had been right, as per usual. You had approached Bucky about it cautiously, nervously, later than night; but your nervousness proved to be for naught as he grinned at you like a kid on Christmas morning. His blue eyes burned with a sort of fire that set off butterflies in your stomach, and when he said yes, yes, yes — you felt tears prick your eyes as you realized that soon, you would be coming home, but this time, with the intention to stay.

The moving process had been easier than you expected, but of course, moving countless boxes and items of furniture was easy when your boyfriend was a super-soldier with a vibranium arm. Sam had also come along to help load the moving van, and the two of them made short work of clearing out the apartment that you had lived in for the past several years. You felt a twinge of sadness as you closed the door, knowing the memories that the walls held, but you were excited for all of the new memories to be made within the walls of your new home.

You and Bucky had bought the house down the road from Sarah; it was well-loved and meticulously maintained, having been looked after by Mr Braxton for decades. Mrs Braxton was delighted to know that the two of you would be moving in, fondly remembering the time that Bucky had spent an entire winter’s day working with Mr Braxton to repair the hot water heater; and as you signed the documents that officially made the house your home, she only asked you for two things — to keep up her husband’s garden, and to share your banana bread recipe. You agreed to both wholeheartedly and with a laugh; and as you saw Bucky smiling at you from across the room, you knew that this journey was starting off on the right foot.

As you drove up the gravel road to the house that was now called home, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face — the water was at your back door, the property was concealed and kept private by trees that looked perfect for climbing, and the wraparound porch offered the promise of countless nights of peace. You killed the engine and looked on at Bucky expectantly; somehow both nervous and excited.

“Y’gonna go inside, doll? Or was your plan to have us live in your car?” His cobalt-blue eyes were bright against the warm dusk of the evening, and a teasing grin worked its way onto his face.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured the Tiguan would be pretty comfortable — the seats lay back —“ Your sarcastic response was quickly cut off by the feeling of Bucky’s lips against yours, soft and sweet and warm, but also holding the same sense of nervousness and trepidation that resided within your chest. Pulling back from him, you stared into those endless blue eyes that held the same depth and complexity of the ocean. “You — are you sure this is what you want?”

His hands came up to cradle your face gently; you felt the warmth of one and the coolness of another, loving the duality of the man seated next to you. “This is exactly what I’ve wanted — before I even knew what I wanted — this was it. It was always this. It was always you.”

A few hot tears rolled across your cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him, but it was only a quick peck as he quickly pulled away, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of your car. He was at the driver’s side door in mere seconds, opening the door as you extricated yourself from the seatbelt. You moved to step out onto the gravel driveway, but before your feet hit the ground, Bucky’s arms had wrapped securely around you as he brought you into his chest; you laughed at the unexpected gesture, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nuzzled your head into his broad shoulders. “What’s all of this about, Mr Barnes?” You asked teasingly.

“Carrying you across the threshold,” he responded nonchalantly, but you noticed the blush creeping across his cheeks. “Bad luck not to.”

You relaxed into his strong grasp, trusting him not to let you fall — you had trusted him through everything, and this moment was no exception. He carried you up the stairs and across the porch before coming to the front door; it was just slightly ajar, as if someone hadn’t pulled it quite hard enough before leaving. But it offered the perfect opportunity for Bucky to nudge it open with his foot, not putting you down until the two of you were standing in the center of the house, looking on at this place that would now be called home. The floor creaked slightly underneath your weight as Bucky placed you down gently, and you couldn’t help but smile as you thought about the impossibility of kids trying to sneak through this old house, and the challenges the aged floorboards would certainly present.

“Welcome home, Bucky.”

“Welcome home, doll.”

***

Your first night in the house had been one full of excitement and passion. The four-bedroom house was admittedly more space than you needed, but the Braxtons had wanted the house to go to someone who was part of the community, rather than risk it being bought up by land developers; and as the two of you explored the house that was now your own, a devilish thought crept up on you.

“Y’know your superstition about carrying me across the threshold?” You asked loudly, as you leaned against the wall of what would soon become the master bedroom.

“Not a superstition,” Bucky called out from the private bathroom, as he opened every drawer and cabinet with curiosity.

“Superstition or not — I know of another one,” you teased. “It’s supposedly only right to christen every room.” You raised your eyebrows at him suggestively, winking as he caught on.

Bucky stepped towards you, quickly closing the gap between your bodies; you felt his arms wrap around you securely as he brought you into him for a desperate, needy kiss. “Well — best not to risk it. Let’s see, we’ve got our bedroom, one, two, three others, the living room, the kitchen, the laundry room, the garage —“

You cut off his rambling with an intense kiss, effectively quieting him as his attentions turned back to you and the rightful christening of your new home.

***

The two of you had been living in the small Louisiana town for almost a year now, and the house felt more and more like home with every day that passed. Your steadily-improving artwork graced the aging walls, Bucky’s socks were frequently found abandoned in the bathroom, and the garage had become the construction hub for the various household projects the two of you had taken on. Bucky’s book collection had grown to fill the built-in bookcases, and you had grown to fit the expansive kitchen you now had access to.

Sarah and her two boys had become the closest thing the two of you had ever known to family, and while Sam was not quite as consistent of a presence, he had gradually slipped into a brotherly role for Bucky. There were countless shared dinners, holidays were spent together, and you were endlessly grateful for the family that you had fumbled your way into. And when Sarah had a date one Friday evening, you and Bucky were more than willing to look after AJ and Cass, both boys being boisterous but incredibly fun and kind-hearted.

It had been an evening of pizza, video games, and nervous questions that couldn’t be asked of parents — and as you and Bucky tucked the exhausted kids into bed, well past Sarah’s set bedtime, the two of you looked on at the sleeping forms with a smile. You pulled the door of the guest bedroom closed softly, while Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around you securely as they pulled your weary form into his. You looked up into radiant blue eyes, blushing at the intensity with which he stared at you.

“That wasn’t too hard,” he commented, slowly guiding your tired bodies towards your bedroom. “Kids, I mean. I feel like we managed pretty well.”

You laughed as you tightened your grip around his narrow waist, feeling his muscles moving beneath your hands as he guided you to the bedroom. “I’m sure there’s more to kids than letting them play Mario Kart until 1AM and feeding them pizza.”

Bucky shrugged as he released you from his grasp, the two of you now securely closed within the privacy of your shared bedroom. “Sure, but you’re... good, with them. You’re good with kids — y’might be too smart for their own good, I don’t think they could ever sneak anything past you, but...”

His words trailed off nervously, and you desperately wanted to know what the end of that sentence might be. Your eyebrows raised in curiosity, hoping he’d finish that thought.

Bucky paused before getting into bed, his boxers hanging low against his well-muscled frame; your mind raced at the sight, heartbeat picking up as you felt heat rush to your cheeks. However, the comfort of bed was calling to you, neither of you used to being up so late anymore as the years had gone on. The two of you were wrapped securely within the comfort of bedsheets before Bucky spoke again, picking up the same thread of conversation that had been cut short just moments ago.

“You’d — well, what I was thinking, is you’d be a good — “

You cut him off with a kiss of sweet intensity, knowing the words on the tip of his tongue; you’d be a good mother. He didn’t need to say the words aloud for their weight and meaning to echo throughout the room. His admission of confidence and trust in you made you glow in a way that you hadn’t felt before — the thought of children had always seemed so far away, so far fetched that you hadn’t stopped and considered it as a possibility. But as you eagerly responded to Bucky’s exploratory, sensuous touch underneath the sheets, you started to wonder if that perceived impossibility may someday transform into a reality.

***

The sun was setting low against the docks, barely clinging to the skyline; and by this point in the evening, both you and Bucky were a few glasses of wine deep. Sam and Sarah had invited you over for dinner, and the quality of steaks that were grilled and the wine that was served indicated a certain level of formality that you hadn’t quite expected; your mind racing, you considered the dinner you would offer in response, not wanting to seem ungrateful for their generosity. Your thoughts of future dinners, however, were put on hold when Bucky’s cool hand came to rest upon yours before gently pulling you up and away from the table. Sam and Sarah shared a knowing look, while AJ and Cass continued to be entirely preoccupied by the food in front of them.

“Buck, what’s — what’s up?” you asked curiously, as he guided you through the yard and out onto the dock, the familiar area faintly illuminated by the warm glow of the soft and aging lights. There was a nervous look on his face, one that made you want to move forward and smooth it away with a kiss; but as you stepped into his broad frame, he grew rigid. “Bucky, is everything alright?”

He laughed, a hint of nervousness breaking through. “Better than alright, doll.”

You smiled in relief, moving to lean against the weathered wooden railing of the boat dock, trusting that his rigidity and resistance was for a reason, whatever that reason may be.

You watched as Bucky took a deep, and incredibly anxious breath. Your heart started to race as you looked on at the tall, pacing man, unsure of what could be unsettling him like this. He spoke quietly and slowly, the weight of his words quickly bringing you into the gravity of the moment. “From the time I was sixteen and taking a girl on my first date, I had imagined what this moment would be like. When I joined the military, that moment I had imagined, it changed — I started to think of all of the formalities, of asking my girl’s father and hoping that my rank proved to be something he would respect, and that I was someone he could entrust his daughter to.”

You felt your heart race, although your mind was racing along even faster, a faint but hopeful feeling growing within your chest as you hung on his every word.

“But then things went wrong, so horribly, awfully wrong — so wrong that I could never forgive myself for what had happened, for what I had done, for what I had become. I was — I was a monster —“

It was at this point his voice cracked, as did your dedication to any emotional reservation; you reached out towards the man pacing in front of you on the docks, but were unsure of what to do next. He allowed your hands to come to rest on his waist as he continued to speak, his eyes staying locked on you as he paused to steady himself.

“For so long, I was the Winter Soldier. And even after that, for so long, I was fighting for redemption — I was fighting to... to become someone that was worth all the saving. I knew that I wanted to be better, I wanted to be more, I wanted to be the kind of person that someone like you could love.”

“I do love you, Bucky, all of you. I always have and I always will,” You whispered softly in response, the crashing of the waves threatening to drown out your words. “There’s nothing I love more in this life than you.”

Bucky smiled, although his bottom lip trembled slightly. “I had been so worried that the universe would — would punish me for what I was. I was worried that I would never... never get the opportunity to be loved again. But you —“ His voice cracked once again, and you saw the intensity of emotion playing out on his face as he blinked rapidly and pursed his soft, pink lips together. “You loved me, even after I told you everything, and — and you didn’t run away. And even after that, for years I went to sleep every night worried that this might be it, that it might’ve been my last day with you. But you stayed, and every new morning I got with you felt like a miracle.”

You shook your head slowly, tears rolling hotly down your face as you thought of all the mornings you had shared, never knowing the fear and relief that had been playing out behind those blue eyes. “Of course I stayed, Buck — I always will.”

He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking again. “I know that now. And — and I want to spend every day waking up next to you, I want to spend every day being loved by someone as incredible as you.” He paused, before sticking his hands into the pockets of his black denim jacket and fidgeting. “Sixteen year old Buck, twenty-two year old Buck, hell, even the Buck you met all those years ago never could’ve imagined this life, or this moment right here, but it’s exactly what it was meant to be. It was always meant to be me and you, doll, and that’s what I always want it to be. And with that —“

The world slowed down around you as Bucky gently grabbed your shaking hand, the warmth of his gentle grip radiating through you. In this moment, you were fairly sure that the waves had stopped crashing, the wind had stopped blowing, everything in the world coming to a quiet and peaceful standstill as you watched him sink down onto one knee. Your breathing had stopped, your whole heart felt as though it had stopped — and you appreciated the universe pausing for just one moment, allowing you to commit this entire scene to memory. Looking down at the man kneeling in front of you, Bucky’s eyes looked brighter and clearer than you had ever seen, even with the few tears that threatened to spill.

He continued to hold your hand, anchoring himself to you, as his other hand disappeared into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small black box; the velvet looked soft and darker than the night, and it was accented with a delicate gold thread that formed an intricate B upon the top. The beautiful box, resting against the cool vibranium of his palm, matched so perfectly that you were sure this had been intentional. Bucky stared up at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky above, and he grinned as he opened the box that held his promise of the future, of an unconditional and unending love.

“Would you do me the extraordinary honor of spending every day with me? Will you marry me?”

His voice rang clear and true across the water, and you didn’t need a single second to think of your answer — you launched yourself into his arms, laughing and crying to the point where you couldn’t speak a word, simply overflowing with happiness and love. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you upwards as he stood up from the weathered grey wood of the dock; as he spun you around, you saw a look of sheer joy and adoration on the face of the man you had come to know and love. Setting you down gently, his hands never strayed from your side as he smiled at you expectantly. “So’s that a yes?”

You laughed as you nodded eagerly, realizing that the word had actually never been spoken — your voice shook with tears as you answered his question. “Yes, yes, yes — yes, Bucky, god, yes —“

Somehow his smile grew even wider and brighter; the sun had slipped below the horizon, but the two of you illuminated the scene with joy as Bucky took your trembling hand into his. The ring looked so small within the expanse of his broad hands, but as he slipped it onto your ring finger, it was perfect. Everything about it was perfect. “Oh,” you sighed softly, staring at the exquisite piece that graced your hand. “Bucky, this is — this is so beautiful —“

“Yeah?” He beamed at your praise. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty special — d’you want me to tell you about it?”

You nodded, still in shock and awe as you looked on at your hand.

“The band, it’s — well, it’s vibranium. It’s the strongest thing I know, next to you. And — it’s almost like it’s a part of me, y’know?” He shrugged his shoulder, and you watched the way the metal of his arm gleamed in the light. The band was thin, delicate, but as you now knew, it was also incredibly strong. “And the diamond, th’middle one, it was my mother’s.”

You felt another hot wave of tears rushing against you, crashing like the same waves that surrounded you. The stone was beautifully cut, the emerald shape highlighting the brilliant fire that somehow burned within the stone, and knowing the significance of it only served to make it even more perfect. “How — how did you—?”

Bucky laughed, his hands still holding onto yours. “Took a lot of work to get that back to me, but that’s a story for another day.” He moved your hand slowly and softly, admiring the way the diamond caught the low light of the bulbs above. “Fits perfect.”

“How’d you pull that off?” You asked, a hint of a tease behind your genuine curiosity.

Bucky laughed, the baritone of it echoing through your chest. “I might’ve... borrowed, one of your rings for a bit.”

“Ahh, so that’s where my mother’s ring had gone,” you mused, the smile on your face feeling as though it was permanent at this point. “I thought I was losing my mind when it turned back up in my jewelry box.”

“That was me,” Bucky admitted with a look of chagrin. “It was hard to keep that from you, I saw how worried you were — but I think it was worth it in the end, don’tcha think?”

“Absolutely,” you giggled, looking down again to admire the impossibly beautiful ring; you’d get to look at it every day, you’d get to have Bucky by your side every day. “Bucky, god, I love you so much —“ Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions, you anchored yourself to him before leaning in for a kiss; his hands snaked around your back as he pinned you against his broad and muscled chest, and as you kissed him with fervor you tasted something unmistakeable on his lips. You pulled away from him reluctantly, and saw that a few tears had escaped to roll down his cheeks. You swiped the last one away with the pad of your thumb, before leaning in for one more soft kiss.

The faint sound of clapping made its way to you, carried along by the warm summer breeze, and both you and Bucky turned to see what had become your family grinning and cheering from the porch. The two of you laughed, the moment overflowing with joy, and he clasped your hand securely in his as he guided you off the dock and back to the excited onlookers.

Sarah was crying unabashedly as she pulled you in for a hug, and you wrapped your arms tightly around the woman who had become your best friend, your sister. “I’ve gotta see the ring,” she said eagerly as she pulled away from your hug. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you extended your left hand for her to see the ring. One eyebrow shot up as a grin spread across her face. “Damn, Bucky, you did good!”

He was quickly pulled into Sarah’s arms for an embrace, and he relaxed into the contact in a way that he never would have just a few years ago. Sam clapped Bucky on the shoulder, an easy smile on his face as he turned to look at you. “You sure this is the one you want?” Sam asked with a laugh, shaking Bucky by the shoulder.

You nodded, still smiling — you hadn’t stopped and you were sure your cheeks would be aching for days to come. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

AJ and Cass ran up to Bucky as they crashed into him for a hug, and he laughed as the wind was knocked out of him. “So, if you’re Uncle Bucky, does that mean we’re gonna get an aunt now?” AJ asked curiously.

Bucky nodded, the two of you sharing a soft and happy glance.

Cass spoke up next, having a question of his own. “Can we get some cousins too?”

The adults laughed at Cass’s genuine and hopeful question. You grinned on at Bucky, thinking of the sound of small footsteps running across your home’s creaking floorboards; you mussed Cass’s hair before pulling him into a hug. “One thing at a time, alright buddy?”

***

The wedding was small, but still bigger and more important than anything you had ever done in your life. Your backyard had been decorated by Sarah, having been filled with flowers and soft, sheer fabrics — it was transformed into something simple but ethereal. The weather held out, despite the brief shower that morning, and it was a perfectly balmy and breezy day. The wedding was attended by Mrs Braxton and her children, the librarian that Bucky had befriended, and the other community members that the two of you had come to love, and who had come to love you right back. You and Sarah had prepared the food for the celebration the day before, frequently having to chase Sam and Bucky out of the kitchen as they tried to steal a taste of something. The music for the evening was played from an old stereo that occasionally crackled with static, but it was just right.

Bucky waited for you by the sparkling water in a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and you had fixed up an ivory gown that had been found while perusing a secondhand store. Sam walked you down the aisle, staying strong and steady as your heart raced and your knees wobbled; AJ and Cass stood next to Bucky, having excitedly agreed to being groomsmen after Bucky had bribed them with a pizza. The air was warm, but the collective feeling of all the love contained here, in your backyard, was more comforting than any sunny day or roaring fire could ever hope to be. Bucky bit his lip as he watched you walk towards him, one tear slipping down his clean-shaven cheek despite his best efforts to remain cool and collected. Sarah and Sam stood next to you after you had placed your shaking hands into Bucky’s equally-excited and nervous ones, and your eyes never left one another until that long-awaited line was spoken — “Mr Barnes, you may kiss your bride.”

It was the most perfect, tender, soul-shattering kiss, and the whistles and cheers faded into the background as if it were only you and Bucky here standing against the setting sun. He was all you needed, but in this moment, as the two of you walked down the aisle hand in hand, you looked on at the scene before you and realized you didn’t have only what you needed. You had everything you wanted.

***

Or so you had thought.

Your house was filled with love, no hidden cracks or crevasses escaping the happiness that emanated from the two of you, but it still needed something.

That something came along a few years later, and you could hardly contain your excitement when you dragged Bucky to the couch before presenting him with a hastily-wrapped box. He looked confused as he stared at the item you had eagerly thrust into his hands. “Is there a holiday or something I forgot about? I’m sorry doll, I’ll make it up to you.”

You just shook your head, the excitement and butterflies rendering you silent. You watched as Bucky carefully unwrapped the box, a curious look on his face as he bit his lower lip. The lid came off, and Bucky sat there with the box in hand, completely frozen for several minutes.

Hand shaking like a leaf in a storm, he grabbed the item before turning to face you, tears running down his face in rivulets as he looked on at you with unabashed hope. “R-really?”

He held up an impossibly small onesie, the words ‘My daddy is my favorite Superhero’ printed in bright, colorful letters. You nodded, grinning as the tears rolled down your face. You were swiftly pulled into Bucky’s lap, his arms cradling you against him securely, and he couldn’t do anything but hold onto you and cry.

Shoulders heaving, he looked up at you before planting a tear-stained kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered to you, clinging to you tightly. “Thank you,” he sighed, but this one wasn’t for you — this was for the universe and the kindness it had extended, kindness he never imagined he could deserve.

***

The delivery was interesting, to say the least. Bucky had run through the house like a madman, coming to screeching halts and occasionally crashing into something as he tried to gather the hospital bags and anything else he thought you might need. He was an absolute terror on the road, but you knew that any police officer so bold as to try and stop him would simply walk away upon seeing the erratic and nervous look on Bucky’s face.

He somehow managed to calm down when you made it into the hospital bed; Bucky was here for you, he loved you, and was going to do absolutely anything that you asked of him. He never complained or winced when you gripped his hand so tightly that you thought you might pop a tendon; and he never left your side, whispering sweet words of love and encouragement through every tough moment.

And finally, after one more push, the room was filled with the piercing and beautiful cries that the two of you had been waiting to hear for months. Bucky looked on at you in absolute shock and wonder, as the doctor brought the baby to rest upon your chest.

“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Barnes. It’s a girl.”

The two of you had decided to wait, knowing that the only thing that mattered was that your child made it earthbound safely.

“She has your eyes, Buck,” you whispered, as her tiny fist wrapped around your pinky finger. Bucky was silent and crying, unable to do anything else. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands moved from the edge of the bed up to where your daughter was resting against your shoulder. As he got closer, he pulled back a bit, before regaining his courage and moving forward again. “D’you want to hold her?”

His eyes flashed with fear and trepidation; how could he hold something so sweet and so small and so new? How could he have made anything so innocent and perfect?

You shifted up in the bed, before grabbing Bucky’s hand and guiding it towards you. You eased the small bundle into his arms, and watched as his eyes grew impossibly large, like a deer in the headlights. You could see the emotions swirling within him as he brought her closer to his face, his finger coming up to gently stroke his daughter’s soft cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s — well, you don’t know me yet, but I’m your daddy. I love you so much, and I’m s-so lucky to have you and your mom. I can’t wait for you to see how amazing she is...”

He eventually moved to sit in the armchair next to your bed, and you drifted off to sleep as Bucky continued his one-sided conversation with his daughter. She was quick to follow you to sleep, and the poor nurse who offered to take her so Bucky could rest as well was subjected to a look that would shake anyone to their core. Your daughter slept on his chest that night, his head drooping against his shoulder as he held her close, and he only let her go when you were awake and asking for her.

The drive home was incredibly cautious, quite unlike the drive to the hospital, and as you stepped through the front door of your home, you smiled at the sight of Bucky managing multiple duffle bags, a baby carrier, and your McDonalds bag. He placed all of the items down gently, not wanting to wake the baby; he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you and your daughter into his chest. Sighing contentedly, he kissed the top of your head.

“It’s a good life, Bucky Barnes.”

You could feel the smile on his face as he kissed you once more. “It is now. I love you, sweetheart.”

"Evenin', George." Lee stepped into your house later that day. He'd been a wreck all day, trying to figure out what your grandfather wanted to talk to him about.

"Evenin', Sheriff. Grateful for ya' comin'." Your grandpa shook the Sheriff's hand. "Drink?"

"Please," Lee nodded, taking his hat off before sitting on the couch. "So, what did you want to talk abo-"

"GRANDPA!" You cried out in destress from upstairs.

Lee shot up the moment he heard you racing down the stairs. His jaw almost hit the floor and his cock nearly bust his zipper as he gaped at you.

"Grandpa, my zipper is bust, and now I can't move it up or down. Can ya' help, please?" You were panicked, trying to tug on the zip that sat in the middle of your back.

George groaned, "Ya' know I can't see those damn zippers for shit, honey." He squinted trying to look at the small zip. "Why don't ya' ask the Sheriff if he'd be kind enough to help ya'." He pointed over to where Lee stood in the living room.

"The Sheriff?" You turned around stunned to see him there. "Oh, Sheriff," You pulled your dress up higher, aware that it wasn't fastened properly and you'd probably been giving him an eyeful. You began to move back towards the stairs, "I should, hmm, go-"

"I can." Lee called out before you went upstairs. He cleared his throat, "I mean, if you need my help, I can." He smiled softly at you.

"I, hmm..." You chewed on your bottom lip in thought before you nodded, "Yes, please," You whispered.

"C'mere then, Sugar." He curled his finger, calling you over to him as he stepped around the couch. "Can't do it all the way over there." He sent you a playful wink making you blush.

You glanced over your shoulder to your grandpa to make sure he wasn't paying you any attention before you walked over to Lee. He turned his index finger in the air for you to spin, smiling softly at you as you did as he wanted.

"Let's have a look at ya'," Lee placed his fingers on the zipper and your back. He felt you breath in sharply as his fingers touched your skin. "Ah, I see..."

"Is it broken?" You asked looking over your shoulder at him.

Lee looked up and met your gaze, shaking his head slowly. "Nah, just stuck... I can, pull," He slipped his fingers down the back of your dress, flush with your hot skin until his fingertips brushed something soft and lacey. "... Fuck..." He muttered under his breath and quickly gave the zip and the material of your dress a tug. "There you go." He snatched his hands back, quickly turning his back to you so you didn't see the tent in his pants.

You muttered a thank you to him over you shoulder as you ran back upstairs.

"Sheriff," Your grandpa stood behind him holding a beer out for him. "The bathroom is at top of the stairs on the left, if you need it."

Lee frowned at him over his shoulder. "I ain't need to use it, George."

"If ya' say so," He nodded to the beer for Lee to take before he carried on. "Just thought it'd save your pants."

Lee's eyes widened as he looked down at the tent. He quickly rearrange them as he turned his back to George again, his face burning red with embarrassment. "Damn it, George, I'm-"

"Save it, son, I ain't dumb." He chuckled and sat in his chair, nodding for Lee to sit. Lee opened his mouth to say something but George held his hand up to silence him before he thumbed over his shoulder as you came racing back down. "You off, honey?" Your grandpa called out to you.

You nodded with a smile, "Do I look okay?" You asked doing a twerl to show off all of your dress.

"Mary said I had to look nicer tonight." You rolled your eyes.

Your grandpa nodded, "Always look pretty, honey. That Mary ain't know shit. Right, Sheriff?"

Lee nodded as he stood up and faced you with a gulp. "You look, beautiful, Sugar. Always do." He smiled softly at you. "You ain't meeting up with no boys, are ya'?" He teased making you blush and smile.

"I already told ya', Sheriff. I don't like boys." You smiled before clearing your throat. "I, hmm... best go, or I'll get yelled at. I'll be home late, Grandpa." You quickly pressed a kiss to your grandpa's cheek. You looked up at Lee and smiled a little at him. "Goodbye, Sheriff."

Lee nodded and watched in silence as you walk towards the front door. "Hold on, Sugar," Lee called out to you as you opened the front door, his hand in his pocket searching for something as he walked up to you. "Call me," He pulled out a candy wrapper and a pen, a light blush flushing his cheeks as you giggled at him. "If you need saving again." He winked at you before he wrote his home number down.

Your eyes widened, "Oh... no, Sheriff, I can't-" Lee gave you his famous 'Sheriff' stare making you nod and blush even more as you took the candy wrapper from him.

"Now, you best get movin', or your little friends 'ill think ya' ain't goin'." He nodded to the car outside with your friends waiting inside for you.

Lee waited until you got into the car and it began to drive away before he shut the door. He let out a slow, steady breath, thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight.

"I fucked up, Sheriff." George spoke, pulling Lee out of his head. "And I'm worried, Y/N's gonna be the one to suffer for it."

"Wha'cha on 'bout, George? You in trouble?" Lee slowly walked towards the older man.

George nodded slowly, "Had to borrow some money." He sighed as he sat back in his chair. "Got behind on bills, nothin' major, just needed a little longer to get the money together. So, I asked a friend, or who I thought was a friend, for a favour." He screwed his fist up as he thought back.

A favour? Lee's brow knitted together in thought, "You ask Mrs Riley?"

George nodded, "Told her I'd pay her back in a month's time, had the money ready to do so, but then... Then the wicked, bitch-" He shook his head with a deep sigh.

"Bobby-Ray." Lee grunted, lifting his beer and taking a long swig of it.

"I thought one damn date, and that would be it... She'd take her money and be done, but no... She expects me, to allow that no good son of hers to," George banged his fist against the arms rest in frustration. "She wants them to marry."

Lee's head shot up, "What?" He gaped at the old man in horror.

George nodded. "Over my dead body."

Silence settled between the two men as they thought, occasionally taking a sip before screwing their fists up. Each of them cursed Mrs Riley and her shit head of a son in their heads.

"You have my permission, son." George nodded and looked over to Lee.

"Permission? For what, George? Ya' ain't expecting me to marry her just so Bobby-Ray don't, are ya'?"

George rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that, bullshit. I see the look you give her. I was happily married of fifty years. I know, that look." George smirked at Lee. "All I know is, I ain't want my grand-baby, forced into a marriage she ain't want."

Lee's mouth fell open. "How'd you know she'd marry me? Why would she want to marry a... Fat shit like me, huh? She wouldn't." Lee scowled.

"She ain't baking for no one else... And she ain't helping no other man at work, is she?" George chuckled. "Son, that girl has been crazy 'bout ya' since the day ya' called her Sugar."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck it.” You dropped your bag onto the dining table and walked over to the kitchen area. You opened several cabinets, searching for alcohol that you could drown your frustrations in. You found an unopened wine bottle, releasing a little cheer, you popped the cork and brought the bottle to your nose. A sweet plum scent invaded your senses, grabbing a glass and pouring it full for yourself before re-corking the bottle. You grasped the cup walking to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching the doorway, then the door being forced open. Muffled conversations were taking place during their entrance.

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky said as he waltzed into the room. Sam followed closely behind him, Zemo immediately going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Karli’s the only one who’s fighting for them.” You said, startling the pair of men who were now lounging on the couches. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” You dropped next to Bucky, offering him a sip of your plum flavored wine.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky shot Sam a look, questioning his thought process. “Look, for five years these people were welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs.” Sam sighed, “Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild.” You stopped listening halfway through Sam’s speech, thinking of Sharon. You only refocused when Bucky placed his metal hand on your knee, giving you a look, asking if you were okay.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asked after you nodded at him. His face never left yours, until Zemo approached the three of you on the couch. He was holding a tray with a clear teapot and cups. He placed it on the coffee table, stepping back and clutching a cup for himself.

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo was always one for the dramatics, so you’re sure that he had something else up his sleeve. Bucky squeezed your knee and you knew he was trying to calm himself.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky hauled himself off the couch to stand in front of the Baron. You gaze flicked to Sam’s, unsure of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky puffed his chest out, clenching his jaw as he gripped Zemo’s teacup and chunked it at the concrete wall behind him. Zemo flinched as Bucky began talking to him.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Sam stood quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

“Take it easy, Buck. Don’t engage him.” You were taking a drink of your wine, as you observed Zemo’s actions.

“Watch out, he’s going to extort you and do that idiotic head tilt thing.” Zemo’s eyes darted to your figure on the couch as he straightened his head. Sam left to make a call, you assumed Sharon and Bucky followed closely behind him. Zemo offered you cherry blossom tea to which you declined by holding up your wine glass. As Bucky left the room, the Baron released a sigh of relief causing you to laugh at his actions.

“You’re really scared of him, aren’t you?” You teased the man who was now glaring at you.

“If you have made him as angry as I have then you would be too.” You shrugged your agreement. You hadn’t made Bucky mad, and you definitely hadn’t been a part of reactivating him as the Winter Soldier to reach your goals.

“Yeah, well you’re a dumbass, so.” You got up and walked to where Bucky and Sam were gathered. Sam’s phone was still pressed to his ear, but you could tell you were catching the tail-end of his conversation. You could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone talking about the Power Broker. In all your years of living and conducting business in Madripoor, you never tangled with the Power Broker. That didn’t mean anything, it was just suspicious because of how successful your operation with Sharon was.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, dumping the rest of your wine in the sink, casting a glance at an appalled Zemo. “It was shit wine.”

“Zemo has a contact that can show us where the funeral is, and that’s all we got.” You nodded before looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

**********************************

You were walking down the cobblestone roadway with the Three Musketeers when a voice shouted at you from the stairway before you. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” A scruffy looking man approached you. Both him and his partner were clad in tactical gear, the scruffy one’s resembling a Walmart version of Steve’s Cap suit. Bucky spread his arms out.

“How’d you find us now?” The man’s partner responded to Bucky with equal annoyance.

“Come on, man. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” As he got closer you could read Hoskins on his vest.

“No more keeping us in the dark.” Scruff said before anyone else could fire back. He stopped walking in front of Zemo, effectively stopping your forward motion. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” You were walking just behind Bucky to his right and you watched him cock his head back, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

“He did that himself, technically.” Scruff’s face contorted as Bucky talked.

“This better be an unbelievable explana--” Scruff’s voice was cut off by Sam’s hand bumping into his chest.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Zemo began talking over the group around him, explaining what was going on. You remained quiet, observing the interaction between Scruff and the Three Musketeers. Clearly, the Three Musketeers did not like him and so you assumed he was the ‘new Cap,’ whatever that means. The group began walking again with Zemo leading the pack.

“Alright good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Scruff was insistent but so was Sam.

“Look, the person closest to her just died, she’s vulnerable.” The group had stopped walking again, focusing on the conversation. You could see the wheels turning in Hoskin’s head as Sam spoke. Scruff was not having any part of what Sam was suggesting.

“What? No. Wait, no! No. Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Scruff ran ahead in front of the others, stopping the forward motion, once again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people still in it.” This was news to you, deciding to stay offline in hopes of remaining under the radar. The back and forth continued until Scruff turned to Bucky.

“You gonna let him do this?” Bucky tilted his head at the man. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” You knew Bucky was referring to himself in Winter Soldier mode. Your heart hurt for him to have to go through this again with some clueless nobody.

“And last I checked, he’s a grown ass man who makes his own decisions, Scruff.” Your arms crossed over your chest. This had been the first time you spoke since Scruff and Hoskin’s had arrived.

“Who the hell is this?” Scruff pointed at you. “You break her out of prison too?” Sam interjected before you could sass back.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Scruff’s gaze hadn’t left your face. He continued staring at you as he countered Sam’s claim.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Hoskin’s hand came up to rest on Scruff’s shoulder.

“Wait, John. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Scruff was not happy with Hoskin's agreement to the situation. Scruff said something to Zemo, who mostly ignored him, acknowledging the little girl waiting under an archway. The group began moving toward her and you focused on Bucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He just nodded at you, denying you the pleasure of a verbal response. You’ll take what you can get. Bringing up the rear of the group, you entered the factory type building last. The little girl pointed up some stairs, and Zemo translated. Sam walked up behind the girl, making him way up the stairs as Scruff handcuffed Zemo to a metal contraption.

“You got ten minutes. Then we’re doing things my way.” Scruff yelled after Sam, who darted his eyes at you and Bucky, a silent instruction to the both of you. Scruff rested his weight against a table, holding Steve’s shield in front of him. His breathing became increasingly worrisome, an ode to how stable he was in the moment.

“You aren’t looking so hot over there, Scruff.” Bucky shot you a warning look, but it didn’t deter you. “The government is really harping on you to get this shit contained, aren’t they?” Scruff pushed off the table, bringing the shield around his back. You were leaning against a pillar near Zemo and Scruff made his way over to you. His face was about six inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am?” He was trying to intimidate you, which clearly wasn’t working.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Scruff’s eyes darted over your frame, a look of recognition washing over his features.

“I know who you are.” He glanced at the clock across the room before looking back at you. “I could arrest you right now. Enemy of the State, standing before me right here.”

“We’re not in that state, dumbass. Technically, you don’t have jurisdiction.” The corner of your mouth raised in a smirk as Bucky called your name. You pushed off the pillar behind you to stand next to Bucky, who was leaning against the railing of the stairs.

“Don’t antagonize him, Y/N.” Bucky berated you, to which you shrugged a shoulder. Scruff began pacing back and forth, frustration getting the better of him.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Hoskin’s tried to calm Scruff down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” He shot a look at Hoskins, then the clock, then Bucky, making a decision in his head. “I’m goin’ in.” Bucky rose to his full height, not allowing Scruff to get by him. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” You watched Bucky’s jaw clench, you could see the anger bottling up. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.” Bucky was an immovable fortress of solitude. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Oh shit.

You watched as Bucky’s resolve faded, allowing Scruff to step around him. Bucky was tired of being the cause of other people’s deaths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Sam could take care of himself, he just didn’t want the burden any longer. He was finally free of being a murder machine, finally able to rinse his hands clean. Scruff knew just which buttons to push to get what he wanted.

Scruff busted into the memorial site, guns blazing. You trailed behind Bucky who was fighting against Hoskin’s to try to reach Scruff. Karli and Sam were previously engaged in peaceful conversation, until Scruff announced that Karli was under arrest. Betrayal laced her features as she looked at Sam, defending herself against Scruff advances. She threw Scruff’s weight into Sam, launching them both into the table behind. Bucky took off after her, chasing her through the halls. You crouched next to Sam, making sure he was okay.

Sam recovered quickly, racing down a different corridor leading to another stairway. You followed close behind, allowing Sam to attempt to navigate the area around you. The two of you eventually went down enough of the wrong corridors, that you met up with an equally confused Bucky. You head perked up at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building. Not sure who the culprit was you turned to Bucky and Sam, who looked just as panicked.

The three of you retraced your steps to find Scruff standing over a knocked-out Zemo with crushed vials wetting the floor. Scruff tossed a glance back at Hoskins and then one to the three of you on the staircase landing. “What did we miss?” Sam directed his question at Scruff, who didn’t dignify him with an answer. Scruff nodded to Hoskins before walking away from the rest of you.

“Thanks for your help, asshole!” You shouted after him.

*******************************

Hauling Zemo’s deadweight back to the safehouse was a job that you and Sam decided Bucky was fit for, being a super soldier and all. Through much complaining and whining on Bucky’s part, he did get him to the safehouse relatively injury free, dumping his body on the couch, jostling Zemo just enough to wake him up. Bucky promptly left the apartment after dropping Zemo off, going to clear his head was the explanation you got as he left.

You huffed, discontent with everything that was going on. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a rag and tossing it at Zemo. “For your head, cover your eyes, it’ll help.” You then popped a few cubes of ice in a glass and poured whiskey over it, handing it to Zemo as well, tapping your temple at him. You went back to the kitchen, jumping onto the counter, letting your legs dangle over the edge. Sam had pulled out a laptop and was typing furiously.

“Were you ever offered it?” You knew Zemo wasn’t talking to you, but to Sam, who hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen. You zoned out of their conversation, trying to decide what Sam was sending Sharon now. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” This made Sam pause and turn to face Zemo, who continued talking. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people.” Zemo removed the rag from his eyes, locking gazes with Sam. “Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how god’s talk?” You interjected, then you asked quietly, “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” It was a valid concern. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” Bucky waltzed into the apartment, stripping his jacket from his shoulders, giving a perfect view of his two contrasting arms.

“Something’s not right about Walker.”

“You don’t say.” Sam quipped, closing his laptop and facing Bucky.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky jabbed at Sam, sticking to his guns on this.

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam was exasperated in his delivery.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You turned to Bucky.

“Hey. Back off, Buck.” Bucky was going to say something in reply when the door burst open again. In walked Scruff and Hoskins, all gung-ho about something.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go.” He pointed a finger at a now standing Zemo. The whole room began shifting, Sam in front of Scruff, Zemo to the side out of direct view, and Bucky to your other side, glass in hand. “I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Sam stopped before Scruff, annoyed.

“Let’s be clear, shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” You added from your spot on the countertop. Scruff pointed his finger at you.

“And I’m taking her too.” Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking Scruff’s view of you. You placed your hand on his left shoulder, letting him know you were still there.

“I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Scruff puffed out his chest, attempting to intimidate Sam.

“How do you want this conversation to go Sam, huh?” He stepped back slightly, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” Taking on a condescending tone with Sam, making your brows raise. Suddenly a spear lodged itself in the pillar next to Scruff’s face, all eyes darted towards the woman across the room. Two more warriors walked in, holding spears by their sides and Bucky looked resigned. This was new territory for you, who the fuck are these people? One of the women stepped forward near Scruff. She spoke at Bucky in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to you.

“Release him to us now.” Scruff ignored her instruction, deciding to step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” You scoffed loudly.

“No, you’re not!” You received a look from Sam at your comment.

“Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk through this, huh?” Sam stepped forward, warning Scruff against tangling with the Dora Milaje.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Your hand balled into a fist, quickly covering your mouth.

“That’s a burn, Scruff!” You yelled like the little shit you are.

“Y/N! Cut it out.” Sam snapped. Scruff, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to place hands on the Dora he was speaking to. She quickly brought her spear up to force his hand off her shoulder, then bringing it downward into the back of his knee and finally bouncing it off of the front of his helmet. She launched her foot into his chest while he was dazed, sending him backward into the spear behind him and face planting on the ground below. Scruff recovered quickly, sliding his arm into the straps of the shield to protect himself from the spear coming at his body.

The three warriors began fighting with Scruff and Hoskins, much to yours and Bucky’s delight. Sam backed up to stand next to Bucky, who crossed his arms over his chest. Sam looked at Bucky.

“We should do something.” You had just barely heard Sam say it when you and Bucky yelled at the same time.

“Looking strong, John!” “You’re doing great, sweetie!” Bucky gave you a look at your term of endearment, not understanding that it was a patronizing use of the word. The warrior battling Scruff was about to drive her spear into him, until Bucky gripped the handle, stopping her attack.

“Ayo!” Bucky yelled at her. “Ayo! Let’s talk about this!” Ayo had effectively yanked Bucky towards her body, then throwing him backwards. Sam stopped another warriors spear before it drove into a downed Hoskins. The last warrior threw her spear at Scruff, trapping the shield against the table. She began her approach to him and Sam yelled your name to help him.

You got down with a groan, unhappy that you had to save this asshat. All movement was stopped when you heard a metallic thud against the floor. Your head snapped to a now one armed Bucky, his vibranium arm laying on the ground. You released an audible gasp as Ayo walked away from Bucky, his blue eyes wide. Everything around you faded as you watched a broken Bucky, kneel to pick up his metal appendage. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who was just as shocked as you.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam gestured to Bucky’s immobile arm.

“No.” He swung his arm around once to restart the systems. You heard Hoskins checking on Scruff’s wounded ego, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Bucky. Are you okay?” He avoided your question, grabbing his jacket and telling Sam that Zemo had gotten away. You held your arms out in front of you, what the fuck? Are you the enemy now? You followed after them, not sure where you were going. You got closer to Bucky, grabbing his left arm and yanking him back to you, making his attention be on you for a second or two. “I’m talking to you, dickwad.” His eyes hardened as you continued. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, I’m assuming that has to do with you not being the Soldier anymore. I don’t really care. What I care about is if you’re okay or not.” You stopped walking, still holding his arm.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Bucky inquired.

“I want you to fucking talk to me. I’m here for you to unload on.” His brows scrunched and you realized what you said. “Oh my god, not like that, sicko. Well, I mean--”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiled at your humor.

“There, see? How hard was it for you to smile. Just talk to me. I’m making sure you’re okay. Don’t shut down, I hate it when people do that.” Bucky went to say something else when the both of your attentions shifted to a concerned Sam.

“She said what?” A pause, “Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know.” He sighed loudly, “Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.” He tried to calm the other person down. You began walking again, Bucky asking quietly.

“What happened?” Sam dropped the phone to his collarbone.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Bringing it back up to his ear, he continued. “Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash, alright? Let me know when you get there.” You turned your attention to your surroundings. The bland streets offered little to no security, but they did give too many vantage points to count. “She wants me to come alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky fired back, not changing his mind about this one.

“Yay, more friends. She’ll love that. Where we going now?”

*********************************************

You’ve never seen Sam as mad as he was when he walked into that building. Although you weren’t sure if it was anger or if it was betrayal that he was displaying as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Her accent shone through with every word. You could tell that she didn’t want to hurt you. Her demeanor was relaxed, her guard was up, but she was being civil, almost like a politician. You were good at analyzing the people around you, so when Karli mentioned Sam and Bucky just being tools she really meant it. She wasn’t interested in hurting people she deemed innocent.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice snapped you back to reality. The two of you hadn’t spoken since you left Madripoor.

“Scruff’s coming, guys and you know it’s not going to be pretty when he does.” Bucky jumped over the ledge and Karli followed suit. Jumping into Bucky, slamming his body into the post. You ran alongside Bucky to the location Sam had sent to your phone. By the time that you had gotten to the building where Scruff was, you had lost Bucky. Taking an entrance that was already knocked open you heard gunshots from a few floors above you. With your gun raised, you scanned the room for any friendlies.

“Y/N, you’re about to come up on Hoskins. He’s not moving, may need an assist.” Your brows furrowed as you entered the room cautiously.

“How the hell do you know that, Shar? How did you get access to satellites?” You questioned as you approached a tied-up Hoskins. “Need some help, Battlestar?”

“I totally had that.” He said as your knife snapped the zip tie around his wrists.

“Yeah, yeah.” You held your hand out, hauling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be the damsel, ya know?” He shook his head at you, not engaging in your hilarious banter. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios.” You shoved your knife back into your thigh holster, leading the way to where the others were.

When you walked in, Bucky had just caught a knife that Scruff had so deflected. He twirled the object in his right hand, ready to defend against the Flag Smasher attacking him. Their fight was quick and ended with the Smasher on their back, the knife Bucky was holding embedded in the floor inches away from their face. You jumped in, helping Sam fend off another Smasher when suddenly Bucky’s fist flew by your face.

“You’re welcome.” He darted off to deal with the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Scruff being held by a Smasher and Karli coming with a knife in hand. You started towards her to stop her, until you saw Hoskins attack from her other side. He tackled her to the ground, Karli bounced back quicker than Hoskins, allowing her to throw a punch at Hoskins. Your jaw dropped as you watched his body fly into the concrete mainstay behind him. His whole body slackened and Karli stood in shock.

Scruff was struggling in his captors hold, thrashing about to get to Hoskins. Once he was free, he shook Hoskins and pushed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. “Hey, hey. Hey. Lemar!” You stood silent in between Bucky and Sam, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until Scruff stood again that you knew what he was going to do. He had a half-second head start, but it was long enough that he was able to reach the Samsher that was holding him back before you could reach Scruff.

You had to push through the crowd to see what was happening. The Smasher had his hands protecting his face against the slam of the Captain America shield that was being hammered into him. You gasped and had to turn your face into Bucky’s shoulder. This is not happening, but it was.

And the whole world saw it too.

***********************************

The next time you saw Scruff was in an abandoned warehouse. He was talking to himself, yelling about different things. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. John Walker had taken the serum and it was enhancing all the wrong things. Scruff was kneeling, resting his hands on the bloodied shield before him. You were on Sam’s right when Scruff walked up to you.

“You guys should see a medic. You don’t look too good.” He paced in front of the three of you. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky’s voice remained calm. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Scruff sent Bucky a disgusted look.

“I’m not like you.”

“You convincing yourself or us, Scruff?” You recognize that this probably isn’t the time to pull his strings but he wasn’t thinking clearly anyway.

“Listen, it was the heat of battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Scruff never stopped pacing, his hand flexing in the shield.

“You gotta give Sam the shield, Scruff.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, getting a little close for comfort.

“Oh, so that’s what this is.” He leaned forward, “You almost got me.” His index finger jabbed into your chest then rested there as he spoke. “You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Came Bucky’s reply before all hell broke loose. Bucky and Sam rushed Scruff, fighting for a way to get the shield from him. Scruff sent Sam flying backwards with a swift kick to the stomach. This gave you the room you needed to launch yourself onto his shoulders, attempting to flip him using his own body weight and your momentum. Your move distracted him enough that Bucky got a few decent hits in, but it really just served to piss him off further. He whipped one arm around, gripping the waistband of your jeans and dumping your weight off his shoulders. He threw you into a wooden shipping container, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

You watch, as you lay there gasping, Bucky get beat to his knees by Scruff and Scruff’s attention is turned by Sam flipping in the air, kicking the shield to the side. You rose to your feet, readying yourself for the opportune moment. Once you found it, you flung yourself at Scruff, sending the both of you to the ground and the shield away from the both of you. You resituated yourself to straddle his stomach, this position didn’t last long because he flipped the both of you. Slamming your back against the ground, he gripped your wrists, yanking them way up high causing you to groan out at the stretch. He released you but not before delivering a swift punch to your cheek.

Your vision blurred, but you could make out Bucky going head to head with Scruff again. Scruff threw the shield at Bucky after kicking him into a lift. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch the shield and shift it to his own arm before Scruff attacked him again. Scruff pressed the shield tight against Bucky’s body, then began speaking to him.

“Why are you making me do this?” You and Sam shared a look then watched as Scruff tossed Bucky clear across the room into an electrical outlet, short circuiting his arm. Sam flew at Scruff, trying to catch him off guard. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, ending with Sam facing Scruff as you crouched in Scruff’s six.

“This isn’t you, John.” Sam began trying to reason with him. He is who is way past reasoning, not Karli. Scruff’s head tilted as he spoke in that condescending tone again.

“We could’ve been a team.” Sam didn’t say anything. He deployed his wings, flying past Scruff and sending a small grappling hook to try and take the shield. Scruff flipped through the air, then braced himself against one of the lifts. You came up from behind him and tackled him off the lift, sending Sam to the ground as well. As you landed, you hit your head on a piece of broken concrete, disorienting you. The shield was out of Scruff’s hands, and he wasn’t happy about that. They both dove for the shield but Scruff managed to get to Sam first, landing on top of Sam.

“I am Captain America.” Scruff grunted out as he ripped Sam’s wings from his suit. You watch in horror as Scruff holds the shield, ready to give Sam a face lift. Bucky knocked Scruff off just before he could land his hit. Scruff had pinned Bucky to the ground after driving Bucky’s head into the side of the shield. You hauled yourself to your feet again, wrapping your arm around Scruff’s neck, hindering his movement. Sam came from the front, delivering a harsh blow to Scruff’s face. You continued to hold your chokehold as Bucky and Sam pried the shield off his arm. You heard a sickening crack as Sam withdrew from the hoe down. Bucky rose to his feet and spit out the blood collecting in his mouth, reaching out his hand for you to take.

You walked over to Sam, you hoped that would be the end of it all. Lo and behold though, Scruff got up yet again. “It’s mine.” He growled possessively, starting towards Bucky again. Bucky ducked lifting Scruff over his shoulder and Sam threw his whole body weight into Scruff who was dangling off to the side of Bucky. The three of them laid on the floor, bloodied and sweaty as you stood over them.

Bucky rose to his knees, the shield in front of him and he used the leverage of it to stand fully. He dropped it next to Sam, pausing for a few seconds and then walking away completely. You stood next to Scruff, in disbelief. “This just got a whole lot more complicated didn’t it, Sam?” He didn’t reply to you, but you watched as he tried to wipe the blood off the outer rings of the shield.

***********************************

You stood outside the building where Donya’s funeral was held, listening to Sam talk to someone else named Torres. Bucky had walked right past you, not a word said. He was shutting down and running away, at least that’s what it looked like. You wouldn’t know because the whore wouldn’t talk to you. You sat down on the stairs, head in your hands frustrated about what was going on. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, so you took it out ready to deny the call, until you saw who it was.

“Shar.” You sighed into the phone speaker.

“Y/N. How’s it going?” You could hear the smugness lacing her tone.

“Alright, just get it over with. Tell me that you told me so, just make it quick.” She scoffed.

“I mean, I did tell you so, but now I don’t want to tell you that I did.” You laughed at her.

“You realize you just did, though?” You sense that she was smiling.

“What happened?” Her tone switched into a serious one on a dime.

“Walker took the serum, went batshit, killed a Flag Smasher, and then beat the shit out of Sam, Bucky and me in order to keep his precious shield because he ‘is Captain America.’” Your voice morphed to imitate Scruff.

“Well, that was bound to happen sometime. He’s all over the place.” You nodded, pulling the phone away from your ear and switching to speakerphone so you could talk and scroll through Twitter.

“He’s already trending. Captain America Kills Innocent Man, what a great headline. You know the worst part about all of this, Shar?” You switched the speakerphone off, bringing it back to your ear. “I don’t even think that Karli is in the wrong here. She’s doing what she’s doing for good reason, she’s just doing a shit job of getting her point across.”

“Yeah, well she’s becoming a pain in everyone’s asses, so that puts her on everyone’s shit list.” Sharon took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to get out of there. I know you’re not technically in the States, or alive, but you know how the government is. They’ll find a way to get you, if they want you.” She was lecturing you out of love, you knew, but it was frustrating for you still.

“Can you not trust that I know what I’m doing?” A grunt released from her end of the phone. “No, seriously Shar. We grew up the same, went through all the same training, what makes you know so much better than me?” Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what she meant, but you had always felt second best when it came to Sharon.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing.” She sighed heavily. “It’s that you were gone for five years and things have changed. Governments have become stricter and you don’t understand that they aren’t the same as they were.” You remained quiet, expecting her to say something else. “That’s why it’s good you have me because I know how they work.”

“You know how they work, do you?” You were fed up with her. “Then explain to me how you have access to satellites, Sharon. That’s not something that you just happen upon.” Your tone was accusatory. “Are you working for the Power Broker behind my back?” You heard a sharp intake of air on her end. “I swear to God, Sharon. We promised each other we wouldn’t work for that asswipe. He’s involved in too much bad shit. If the US government were to ever find out that we were working for the Power Broker, they wouldn’t grant us pardons, Shar. Did you fuck this up for us?”

“I didn’t fuck anything up and you need to check your tone when you’re talking to me.” Your brows shot to your hairline.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. We need to work this shit out. I didn’t fuck anything up and neither will you if you come back to Madripoor right now.” You were shocked, Sharon had never talked like this to you.

“I really don’t think I would be comfortable being somewhere that I’m clearly not welcome anymore, so I’m going to stick with what I know.” Sharon began backtracking as you resigned yourself to being on your own for the first time in forever. “Goodbye, Sharon.” You ended the call and shoved your phone into the pocket of your jeans.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. Being on your own was daunting and you weren’t sure how Sharon survived without you well enough to grow your business all on her own. You tried to think of your next move, deciding that sticking with Sam would be your best bet. He’s the easiest to guess where he’s going since Bucky has been mentally MIA towards you.

You recalled Sam mentioning his sister and nephews, thinking he would go there to check on them. You hauled yourself out of your slump and to Zemo’s apartment to collect your things before going. You were going all in if you were going to do this, so why the fuck not?

*************************