A/N

Unlike Draconian, the update schedule for this should be every 5-7 days. Feel free to give me a little extra push if it's been 7 days from the LAST update and I've not updated.

Welcome to Noelle's take on the Winter Soldier.

x Noelle

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р а с с в е т

(daybreak)

DAKOTA STARED AT the man in horror for several seconds, until Steve  re-entered the apartment.

He took one look at the wide-eyed look on Dakota's face and the wide grin on Sam's and shook his head, letting out a quiet sigh. "You couldn't have broken the news to her gently?" He asked Sam, stepping over and hauling the unconscious man up, setting him down onto the couch.

"It's like ripping off a band-aid," Sam shrugged. "Quick and painless."

Dakota listened to their exchange absent-mindedly, but her eyes were still fixed on the man on the couch. There was something distinctly familiar and unfamiliar about him all at once, and she couldn't for the life of her remember where she'd seen him. His face was frighteningly pale, hair falling into his eyes in thick clumps and traces of ice still lining his skin, starching the clothes he was wearing. He looked like he'd been frozen in ice. Had he been frozen in ice?

But most of all, her eyes were drawn to the metal arm hanging limply by his side.

"Wait." Her voice was quiet, but it immediately stopped Sam and Steve. She took a step closer to get a better glimpse of the man, her eyes tracing the slope of his nose, the strong angle of his jaw and the way bits of ice still clung to his eyelashes. "I think – I've seen him before," she continued, a frown creasing her forehead as she thought. "At the...Smithsonian? He was in that exhibit on the second World War. And he was – "

She flicked a glance at Steve, who was watching her with caution in his eyes. All at once, the memory came rushing back. It was vague and drawn from the deepest recesses of her memory, but she remembered it all the same.

" – he was the guy who fought alongside you, wasn't he?" She asked Steve, her lips tilting up at the corners in a faint smile. "James, something – "

"Buchanan Barnes," Steve finished, but his eyes were still guarded as he stared at her. "We call him Bucky."

Bucky. Dakota silently worked the syllables of the word around her tongue. That was an odd name, but before she could say anything else, Sam was already speaking, his voice deceptively casual.

"You remember the exhibit, huh?"

She frowned in confusion, gazing back down at the man on her couch again. "Well – yes. But I thought...I thought he'd died. He was a war hero or something. How'd he end up – "

"Alive?" Sam supplied, when she trailed off. She nodded and he continued, "It's a long story. But we got him out of Wakanda and he needs somewhere to hide."

"Yeah, of course," she said. He'd probably survived the same way Steve had. Aliens in New York, superheroes around the world... Everything was so bizarre now that nothing fazed her anymore. She felt a surge of sympathy when she noticed the frown on the man's face. When was the last time he had a good night's sleep? "He can stay here. I'll clear out the study – "

"No, it's fine," Steve said. "Sam and I will stay out here with him. He needs someone to keep an eye out. Just in case."

Dakota agreed and headed into the kitchen to finish making the coffee, but not before directing Sam and Steve to fetch the spare blankets and mattresses from the storeroom. When they came back out, Steve was adamantly ignoring Sam's repeated suggestions to dunk Bucky in a tub of boiling hot water.

" – it's like defrosting a chicken," Sam was saying, reaching for the one of the mugs of coffee that Dakota had made and taking a sip.

Steve took the other cup and nodded gratefully at Dakota, before shooting an unamused look at Sam. "Have you ever defrosted a chicken before?"

Dakota laughed and poured Sam another generous helping of coffee when he held out his mug to her. She pushed the plate of leftover pizza to the men and leaned a hip against the counter. "Maybe you can leave him out to thaw," she suggested, "Drape a couple of warm towels over him to speed up the process. But you might want to be careful of that metal arm; metal fluctuates between hot and cold very easily."

"Definitely better than boiling Bucky in hot water," Steve agreed, shooting a flat look at Sam, who simply grinned and took a generous bite of the pizza.

"Do you need my help?"

"No, we're good. Get some sleep. We'll handle the rest."

"Alright," Dakota eased back and smiled at them. "Towels are over there in the cupboard if you need them. And feel free to raid the fridge if you need more food."

Sam and Steve bade her goodnight and she headed out of the kitchen. She could still hear their voices, and paused when she heard Steve say her name.

"You seem to really trust her." There was a silent question in his voice and she knew what he meant. Can I trust her the same way you do?

Sam's reply was assured and confident. "With my life."

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Soft snores echoed from the hallway when she left her bedroom the next morning. Steve and Sam were sprawled across the living room floor, the latter snoring with his mouth open.

Then there was Bucky and Dakota's eyes travelled to him for a moment. Set aside the fact that he clearly needed a haircut and a good trim, he was undeniably attractive – not in the classic blond way Steve was, or the suave nature that Sam pulled off effortlessly. He was – different, ruggedly handsome and probably with one hell of a backstory, given the fact that he was presumed dead but now alive.

She still couldn't wrap her head around that.

Quietly, she headed to the kitchen and filled the kettle to boil. Then she opened the fridge and peered in. Sam and Steve had clearly heeded her words and raided her fridge. But for all his jokes, Sam was responsible enough to clean up and return the plates and cups. Thank God for small favours.

Reaching for a carton of milk, she set it down on the counter, followed by several eggs and wrapped bacon and ham. She was in the middle of unwrapping the ham when she felt a sudden chill on her neck, an unrelenting pressure that tightened around her throat before she was slammed back against the fridge.

She caught a flash of bluish-grey eyes, sharp and piercing under the light of the kitchen, and belatedly realised that what had locked her in place was a metal arm, the fingers latched around her neck in a vice-like grip.

"Кто ты?" The voice was a low timbre, right at her ear, and the language unfamiliar to her until the man smoothly switched to English. "Who the hell sent you?"

She choked. Lungs burning, she reached up to pry the fingers off her neck. She kicked out, but the man wedged his knee between her legs. Through blurry vision, she saw Steve rush into the kitchen, with Sam behind him. Sam's face was grim and he made to lunge forward, but Steve held out a hand to stop him.

"Bucky," Steve's voice was sharp and she felt the man's fingers still on her throat at the sound of it. "Drop her."

Two seconds ticked by before Bucky quickly released her, and she almost collapsed, were it not for the hand that he reached out at the last minute in an attempt to steady her. This was his other hand now, and she felt the warmth of his skin on her waist as he held her.

But then Sam was shoving him aside, gripping Dakota tightly by the shoulders as she coughed. "Dot," his face was worried as he stared at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured him, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She heard Steve talking to Bucky in the background but hardly registered it. The ringing was loud in her ears and her heart was still hammering in her chest. "I'm fine," she repeated, offering Sam a faint smile, "see?"

"No, I don't," he said flatly and pushed her down onto the nearest chair. "Now sit. I'm making breakfast."

Dakota nodded, watching in amusement as Sam donned her apron and began to whip up a fresh batch of scrambled eggs. After making sure that she was okay, Steve poured her a cup of coffee, handing another to Bucky before sitting down at the table. For several painful pauses, Bucky simply stood there, a mug in his metal hand and his eyes darting around the place like he was trying to detect a potential threat nearby.

"It's alright," Steve said to Bucky. "You can sit."

Bucky hesitated, but finally sat when Steve gestured to the empty chair. "How did I get here?" he asked at last, his voice tense and low.

"Sam and I got you out," Steve explained, setting the first-aid box down in front of Dakota. She waved him away when he tried to help her, so he eased back in his chair, speaking in slow, measured tones as he tried to cover the previous day's events. "T'Challa called yesterday to tell us that there was a raid on Wakanda. By some man called Ulysses Klaue," Steve added, frowning a little as he remembered. "Had a run-in with him once. Never saw him face to face though."

Dakota's ears were pricked as she listened, unable to stop her intrigue and curiosity. No doubt that Steve trusted Bucky, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that Steve clearly trusted her enough to let her listen in to their conversation. She kept silent, methodically applying medicine to a cotton swab and gingerly feeling her neck for any bruises. She didn't miss the way Bucky's blue eyes were fixed on her throughout.

"Anyway, T'Challa told us to get you out," Steve continued, after taking a long sip of his coffee. "He said that if Klaue and his men found you, there's no knowing what they could do that would trigger you off again. So we went in, located you, fought our way out and brought you here."

"You were still stuck deep in cryo when we found you," Sam quipped, taking his attention away momentarily from the stove. He grinned at Bucky in a signature move that Dakota knew was meant to put anyone at ease. "Thought of sticking you in the hot tub to defrost you, but Steve was having none of that."

Steve rolled his eyes, but Bucky remained quiet. Dakota pressed a cotton swab to her neck as she listened to Sam and Steve's chatter over breakfast.

But Bucky was startlingly silent throughout. He was listening, of course, nothing seemed to escape him; and he stiffened on more than one occasion when any of them picked up their knives. When Dakota picked hers up to slice off a piece of ham, he tensed, watching her actions closely with guarded eyes until she noticed him looking.

She paused, before setting her knife down and offering him a faint smile as she picked up another fork instead. He blinked and quickly looked away.

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The hum of the radio and running water filled the kitchen. Amidst the lull after breakfast, Dakota scrubbed at the plates and thought about everything that had transpired. It felt surreal and, sometimes, she wondered if all she had to do was wake up.

"Your name is Dot?"

The voice came from behind her. She jumped and whirled around, only to find Bucky several feet away. He looked out of place in such a domestic setting. He surveyed her with sharp eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

"You scared me," she told him with a laugh and returned to rinse the plates. "And yes. It's Dakota, but Sam and my friends call me Dot."

He didn't speak for several moments, and she eventually threw a glance over her shoulder. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said at last. "It's a reflex when I'm in a strange environment."

"That's okay, Bucky – "

"James."

"What?"

"It's nothing," he muttered roughly, dark hair falling into his eyes as he lowered his head and she suddenly felt the instinctive urge to push his hair out of his face. Where had that come from? "That's what a girl used to call me. Her name was Dot too."

"Really?" She thought about how Steve had looked surprise when Sam first introduced them. Maybe Steve remembered the girl too. "That's a coincidence." She laughed and shook her head. "And it's okay, James. I know what you're going through. It's always unnerving for war veterans like yourself, feeling as though there's a threat out there all the time."

He fell silent at her words. She didn't mind—she'd faced plenty of extended silences at her job anyway. She turned back around and wiped the cups dry, humming along quietly to the radio.

"That wasn't me," he said suddenly.

She turned back to him in surprise. "What wasn't you?"

His jaw tightened. His voice was quiet but rapid, as though he were trying to convince her of something. "The man on the bridge, in the building, on the news. That wasn't me. I wasn't him."

She blinked. "You were on the news?"

"You don't know?"

She let out a self-deprecating laugh. "There are plenty of news and I don't manage to catch all of them. My friends at work update me on things but I don't really – " She stopped when she saw the frozen look on his face. "Is there something I should know?"

"No," his reply was quick and he fell a step back. "That's – that's good," he settled for saying at last, and hurried so swiftly out of the kitchen before Dakota could even form a coherent response in her mind.

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r e f e r e n c e s

Klaw (Ulysses Klaue)

A supervillain who is one of the known enemies of the Black Panther, alongside Killmonger and Man-Ape. He appeared in Avengers: Age of Ultron as an arms dealer, where he got his left arm severed by Ultron after pissing the latter off. In the comics, Klaw wears a sonic emitter on his wrist as a prosthetic device and is an expert physicist who can manipulate sound.