NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
2015

NINE months went by without another word from Bucky Barnes, and June's heart broke.

For the first three months, June tried to keep hope alive. She hassled J.A.R.V.I.S. constantly for mail, watched the news religiously, scouring every headline for a mention of the Winter Soldier, and even began searching the streets for a familiar face whenever she was out. She did everything short of calling Steve and asking him where Bucky was.

But nothing changed. Barnes had disappeared from the world. Or, at the very least, June's world. There were days when she felt pathetic for waiting, longing that Bucky would appear in her doorway and hold her and stay; there were days when his absence became unbearable. June's life had been stripped of continuity, and she felt she had lost control all over again.

Maybe Bucky had forgotten about her. Maybe Steve had convinced him to stay away from her. Whatever the reason, it hurt June too much to wonder. It hurt her more than anything.

So she chose to move on. She did not want to, and she knew there would always be a part of her that never could, but June did her best. She drowned herself in work and left Bucky at the surface.

In theory.

June grew close with Tony. He reignited her adoration for computers and codes and creation, especially when used for good. They spent most of their time digitally pinpointing Hydra bases scattered across the globe and tinkering with Tony's suits. He helped June manufacture new daggers that, among other things, could send currents of electricity through their blades, sprout serrated edges, and spew plumes of blinding smoke. The twelve-inch knives were electromagnetically linked to June's gauntlets and could sheath themselves with a simple fingerprint scan. Silly as though it might sound, the upgrades gave her hope. Here were weapons that came from her own hand, that she could be sure were used only against those who deserved their fates. Weapons that did not belong to a vigilante, but to someone who just wanted to help.

Perhaps adopting "Cutlass" could be a good thing.

• • •

"ROOM for cream, please," Natasha Romanoff said politely, offering the barista a cool smile as she loitered beside the counter. She tucked a piece of fiery hair behind her ear. Natasha had abandoned her straight-and-sleek look—now, her locks were chin-length and curly, framing her face pleasantly. She smiled again when the barista handed her a large white teacup filled halfway with black coffee and made her way to a small table stocked with sugar and creamers.

June watched her go, fascinated by the way Natasha could melt into her surroundings and become the most uninteresting face in the room. It had been a few months since she'd last seen her. Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, the Black Widow had kept close to the shadows, only emerging when absolutely necessary (or when Tony had insisted that she and June join him and Pepper at a wine-tasting in Italy). Despite her solitude, Natasha had become one of June's close friends, and their time together was special to June; Nat was one of the only people she was sure she could trust.

Tilting her sunglasses down a fraction and throwing on a smile, June stepped up to the counter, placed her order, and followed Natasha outside to a table near the street, where the New York traffic would drown out their conversation.

"So," Natasha began as she settled into her seat, "how has Stark been treating you?"

June smiled. "Just fine. He's a good man. Better than people give him credit for."

"Once you get past the exterior," Natasha added. "He dresses like a mudak." Asshole.

June laughed. "And we wear skintight catsuits to work. No one's sophisticated in this business."

Nat allowed a smirk to tug her lips. "This business," she repeated. "You know, there are still people for you to meet—people who run in the same circles as . . . us."

"Like who?"

"Thor, for one example," Natasha said as casually as if she was mentioning her eccentric neighbor.

"Yes," June agreed sardonically, "because the Norse god of thunder is always available for a meet-and-greet."

"And my friend, Clint Barton," Nat went on, ignoring her. "There's a whole team, and you've only met half."

"That's more than most people," June pointed out.

The Black Widow shrugged. "Still."

They sat, wordless for a spell until Natasha asked: "Have you heard from Barnes?"

Instantly stunned, June pressed her lips together, waiting for the familiar rush of dread and pain to subside. "No," she mumbled. "Nothing."

Nat's eyes softened. "Steve?"

"Of course not," June brushed her off. "I think it would take an alien invasion to get me and Steve into the same room again."

It was not an exaggeration. June had not seen or spoken to Steve since the terrible morning he returned. Eventually, she told Tony everything that had happened between them (the parts concerning Bucky she still kept to herself. Those were sacred and unsharable with anyone besides Natasha). June also disclosed the details of her experiences with Hydra, which prompted Tony to insist upon a full psych evaluation that ended up with her on three different medications and an arsenal of new coping mechanisms aside from Steve. She was getting better—and could only hope Bucky was, too.

"I would have thought after almost a year he'd be more . . . communicative," Nat remarked, sipping her coffee.

June fixed her gaze on a street sign across the road, thinking hard about what Sam had told her so many months ago. He'd been thinking about you a lot while we were gone. I just don't think he thought he would come back to you . . . like that. Yes, June knew exactly why Steve did not want to speak to her. She couldn't blame him. She supposed that if he wanted to come and laugh in her face, he could; the man who June destroyed their relationship for was gone, left her waiting without a second thought.

Steve should have been laughing.

"Sam said something to me when he dropped off my stuff at Tony's," June recalled. "He said . . . he told me that Steve had been thinking about me . . . . And that he obviously didn't expect to find me . . . with Barnes."

A long silence. Natasha absently stirred her drink as she thought, her cat eyes glued to the table burning emerald. A waiter approached them, carrying a small tray. "Cappuccino with vanilla," he announced, abruptly breaking the silence. He gingerly placed the cup before June and strode back inside. She glanced down at the whispy design painted in the coffee with distaste; it was too pretty for such a conversation.

"Do you think you broke his heart?" Natasha asked quietly.

The question hit June like a punch, but the answer was glaring. "Yes," she whispered.

"It's not your fault," Nat sighed. "He never told you how he felt. You never knew."

June shook her head. "That's not what makes it so horrible. It's . . . I just . . . . I just wish Steve would've said something."

Natasha stared at her with an angular face full of pity. "Because you think things would be different if he had?"

June pressed her lips into a taut line. "Yes."

"How?"

She sighed heavily, drumming her fingers restlessly on the table. "There's a part of me that adores Steve's friendship for what it is. But there's a part of me that . . . wonders if it could be more. Most of all I just miss him."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. Where does Bucky come in?"

The simple mention of him was enough to make June's heart dance and crumple. "I don't know. I thought he'd stay." She blinked rapidly, chasing away the sudden mistiness that spread over her eyes. She took a swig of cappuccino and burned her tongue. "I want him to be okay."

"That's a tall order for someone like him," Natasha avowed.

"That's why I wanted to help."

Nat scowled. "And you did. But the responsibility can't fall entirely to you."

"I know . . . ." June stared at her hands, wishing they would talk about anything else. "Look," she said, "I'm trying to let it all go. I reentered myself into this world, and everything is too insecure for me to let personal problems compromise the goal."

Natasha watched her steadily for many moments. "And what's your goal?" she asked, face unchanging.

"To destroy Hydra," June declared, "and restore everything it ruined."

"And to do that you have to forget about James?"

June gazed at her pleadingly. "It's more complicated than that, Natasha. It's been too long. I can't expect a reunion or reconciliation. If I don't move forward . . . if I don't move on—"

"At the very least, June," Nat interrupted, "you know you're owed an explanation. Regardless of your feelings. James has to tell you why he never came back."

June took another sip of coffee, anxious for time to think. She was not even sure how she would handle seeing Bucky again. The idea was too foreign. Too impossible. Too overwhelmingly tempting. If he had truly never returned because he no longer wanted anything to do with her . . . well, that was not a conversation June was eager to have.

She closed her kaleidoscope eyes for a beat, then opened them. "I suppose you have a point."

"I always do," Natasha agreed.

"Don't start getting cocky." June smiled softly. "I don't—"

She was cut off; Natasha's phone began to buzz.

"Sorry," she muttered as she answered the call and put it on speakerphone. "We're here, Tony. What's up?"

"Time to cut the lunch date short, Romanoff," Tony Stark's unmistakable voice rang from the receiver. "The troops are arriving a little earlier than we thought."

Natasha frowned. "How much earlier?"

"Uh, well," Tony chuckled awkwardly, "what happens when God and a low-budget Legolas walk into a bar?"

"We're on our way." She hung up.

June's heart was hammering like mad, though she was not sure why. "What did he mean by that?" she asked, fearing the answer.

Natasha grimaced. "Remember those people I wanted you to meet?"

June felt her face fall as shock engulfed her like a wave. "Natasha, you're not serious . . . ."

"Don't worry," Nat assured her. She got to her feet and gestured for June to do the same, "there will be some familiar faces."

June's fingers gripped the arms of her chair. "Familiar how?"

"Well," Natasha calmly adjusted a button on her jacket, "you won't have to wait up on that alien invasion."

The ground might as well have opened up beneath June for all the nausea that rolled through her. Her heart fell into her stomach; her fingers and toes went numb. She was headed to an Avengers meeting.

And Captain America would be there to complete the set.

• • •
note.
hey!!! sorry about the kind-of hiatus. i went through a writer's block BUT im back and so is this book!!! as of right now, it's reached 100k reads and im SO grateful. thank you for being some of the best readers EVER!!
okay so i know that things may be confusing with the timeline so let me clear it up: there's a year between ca:tws and aou, so i had to do a time-jump. basically, bucky hasn't come back to see june since the end of part two, nine months ago. she hasn't seen steve at all, and has been living with tony this whole time. right now, we're three months before age of ultron. june is about to have to deal with a lot of shit. what else is new.
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!