The city didn’t sleep so much as lie in wait. November had it clenched in its frozen teeth—wind slicing down empty avenues, steam curling from rusted grates, everything washed in the dull orange of sodium lights. Bucky moved through it like muscle memory. No sound, no hesitation. His breath fogged for half a second before vanishing. The building was an old tenement boxed in by high-rises and broken surveillance—forgotten enough to be safe, or at least invisible. Her kind of place. Top floor, end of the hall. She was never careless, but she didn’t expect him.

The door wasn’t locked. That told him something. Inside, it was too warm—like stepping into a fever dream. One low lamp lit the apartment, throwing long shadows over exposed brick and scattered gear. She stood in front of the mirror, half-suited, black lace clinging to her like a second skin. Silver-white hair swept back from her face, eyes already locked on him. No surprise, no panic. Just calculation. Always so damn composed. The suit hung open down her front, her gloved fingers paused at the zipper like she’d frozen mid-thought. She hadn’t reached for a weapon, which meant she didn’t see him as a threat—or worse, she did, and didn’t care.

Five years ago, she’d left HYDRA. No note, no body, no trail. Just gone. Before that, they were teammates. Not friends, not lovers, but something in between. There was heat, sure, and tension—the kind that curled in the silence between missions. They trained together. Fought dirty. Pushed each other too far. One night they crossed a line they both pretended didn’t exist. He never asked why she left, maybe because part of him already knew. They were too similar. Too broken. Two ghosts in the same graveyard. If one of them stayed too long, the other would burn for it.

Their paths kept crossing this year. Not accidents. Not luck. Like the universe was pushing them into each other just to see what would happen. Sometimes they fought. Sometimes they didn’t. That kiss on the rooftop last week? He told himself it was adrenaline, but he remembered how her breath hitched. How she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world she still believed in. And that scared the hell out of both of them. So he pulled away. Like he always did. And now here he was, soaked in snow, standing in her apartment like it meant something.