Bucharest, Romania | 9:37 am

It doesn't make sense, really. Nothing will ever make sense when it comes to sneaking onto a plane in the darkest hours of the night and not getting caught. The sun shines bright this morning and I can't help but to look around at the architecture. I've never done this before and as I have no place to be, I have all the time in the world. Or so it seems to be. A blue sky paints the landscape, tying it all together to represent nature's pure beauty. Roaming the street, tourist and locals pass me by. Some just look ahead at something greater and some pass me by, sending a simple smile my way. Life would be easier this way. It really would, all things considered.

I find myself constantly checking my watch to see what time it was, but every time, it's just another minute passing by to a place that I have nowhere to be. Lost can be a word to describe my current situation, but actually, I'm following my instinct and a feeling. Because somehow, I know I'm in the right place at surprisingly the right time. How, you ask? Trusting my instincts to direct me throughout the city.

The cool wind feels like ice against my face as I grip my jacket tighter around me. I've been walking for quite some time now, only to see that I've stumbled upon an apartment building. By the looks of it, a plentiful of people must live in there, but as I stand here, a warmth in my chest grows noticeable. It's like a gravitational pull, luring me to go inside the complex, in search for something or someone. Giving into the feeling, I walk through the main doors and completely ignore those sitting at the front desk as I walk towards the stairwell. My footsteps echo each time I take a step, and the feeling grows stronger as I get higher up.

Passing dozens of rooms, the feeling grows and I feel like there's something here I need to know, but like I've always said, I find things based on a feeling. Or the idea of a feeling. Either works the same. Suddenly, I'm compelled to come to a halt outside an apartment door in the middle of the building. I reach out to turn the doorknob, only to find that the door hadn't been shut by the room's occupant. Curiosity takes over me as I step into the room and I close it silently behind me.

The first thing I notice is how the windows are covered with newspaper, barely allowing any light to shine through the windows. There's something eerie familiar about this place though I've never been here before. Someone lives alone, in fact, it seems like they're hiding from something. From someone. I know this because I had been the same way a few years ago. Walking further inside the apartment, I scan to find any indication on why I would be here. That's until I feel a presence behind me.

One that I haven't felt in so long.

My heartbeat quickens, temporarily paralyzing me in shock. I had always known that I had the ability to find him without ever really trying. It's what I'm good for.

Bucky Barnes is right behind me.

"How did you find me?" the voice of James Buchanan Barnes is heard from behind me.

My entire body freezes, as if it's paralyzed in utter fear, and I can't bring myself to turn around.

"The same way I always have," I say, almost instantly. "By a feeling."

I turn around to face him, our eyes meet and a sense of familiarity sets in. In a quick and fluent movement, I close the distance between us and surprise myself by wrapping my arms around Bucky's shoulders. He tenses up before returning the gesture and wraps his arms around my small figure, tightly.

"I never thought I'd see you again," my voice is hushed, suddenly becoming afraid of being captured again.

I listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat, making sure that this is real and not another hallucinations that Wanda has put me through. Thump. Thump. Thump. His heartbeat is quick and real. That's all that matters right now.

"You were always going to find me," Bucky says. "After all, your heart's somewhere else."

I pull out of his embrace and quirk a brow in his direction. What is that supposed to mean? He said something like that the last time we saw each other in Boston. He doesn't show any indication of speaking anymore of the subject, but his words roll around in my head like a hundred waves crashing at once.

That's when the feeling I get every once in awhile comes back and it's as heart wrenching as I remember. My heart. It feels like my heart is being torn out of my chest and everything feels like it's burning within me. Clenching onto the fabric of my shirt, I close my eyes tightly, trying to forget the pain. I've always been able to push away the pain, but this time, it's not enough, something's wrong but I don't know and I lack the memory of anything being wrong with me.

"Are you okay, Avalon?" Bucky asks, placing his right hand on my shoulder, but I push it away.

I open my eyes to look at him, but they dart to the wall behind him. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a random shock of pain, that's all."

Concern fills his features. "Where at?"

"My heart"

***

Have you had that feeling where you've been looking for something for so long that you can't remember what life was like without it? That's exactly how I'm feeling as I'm here with Bucky. In one way or another, I managed to forget what it's like without him being around, but at the same time, I can remember how lonely it was. Finally, after all this time, I found the one person who understands exactly what I've been through and the the trauma that it has caused me.

But there's also a downside to all of this. You would think that being apart for so long that you'd have something to talk about, well, currently, there's an awkward silence as we both sit across the room from each other. I've never been a huge talker myself. Back then, I would use music to speak the words I never could, but it's not like I can pull out out a grand piano from my backpack and seize the tension with Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 15 in D major. Because that's such a tension breaker.

Bucky drums his fingers awkwardly on his thighs, averting my gaze and flickering to the window. "So uh- I got new curtains," I glance over at them, noticing the dark and dingy blue. "What do you think?"

I pause, drawing in a breath. Curtains. This is what it has come to. We've spent years as assassins together, then months apart, and we're talking about freaking curtains.

"Well I never saw the old ones so... I guess they're good."

He nods, his gaze falling to his lap, "Right."

And the tension builds up again as the conversation vanishes, only leaving the two of us staring at each other very awkwardly. I want to look away, but he doesn't look away. He stands up, his blue eyes break from my gaze; he's feeling the same way I am, confused and relieved at the same time. I shift in my spot on the couch awkwardly, hoping that he says something. But at the same time that I'm thinking about that, a huge crash and the shrieking sound of glass breaking startles me and I jump up.

Bucky kicked the goddamn coffee table and broke it. It takes every bit of me to contain my laughter at his inability to deal with company, but a small chuckle escapes my lips and his head snaps towards me, his eyes narrowing. A small smile creeps upon his chiseled features and I can't help but to smile back.

"Do you want tea?" he asks, his smile gets bigger, almost to show a sign of him become more comfortable around me.

A smirk plastered on my face, my eyes slightly roll in amusement. "Uh, I don't know. Are you going to set the entire apartment on fire?"

"I can boil water and put some pretty leaves in it, Princess," his laugh is fake and annoyed, but at the same time, humorous. This is the man I know best. For his casual sarcasm.

I hold up my arms in defeat, not pushing on his skills. "Okay, whatever you say, Barnes."

He goes into the kitchen and I watch as he makes the tea, seeing if he does in fact know how to boil water. To no surprise he does and I look down at my feet, seeing the shattered glass from the coffee table everywhere. I don't even bother to ask to help and clean up because it's the aspect of helping out when it's not even asked.

I stalk towards the kitchen, trying to find a dustpan after spotting the broom in the corner of the small apartment. Surprisingly, Bucky manages to keep the place somewhat neat and organized, but I cannot find the dustpan for the life of me. I look in drawers, underneath the table and chairs, but not in the cabinets in the island where Bucky is standing. I debate whether to wait, but due to my impatience, I can't wait.

"Excuse me," I murmur, as I bend down to look in the cabinet.

And immediately, I find the dustpan and if I were alone, I would do a victory dance. Now is not the time, I laugh to myself. I stand back up, placing the dustpan on the counter, and I expect Bucky to have moved, but as I turn to my left, I'm met with his chest; just inches away from my face.

Ice meets a storm. His breath fans over his face, the both of us as still as stone. My mind is screaming at my body to move, but it's like my feet are in concrete and I've been planted to the ground like a tree. Bucky, on the other hand, does no attempt to move either nor does he break eye contact with me. An emotion crosses his face. One I don't see often on his features. Fear. He's afraid. He's just as afraid to be this close to me as I am to him. The tips of his metal fingertips graze my hand, sending a shiver down my spine; as cold as ice, but a heart of gold.

"Sorry, I'm in yo--" my sentence gets cut off with his lips pressing against mine. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

For a moment, I'm as stiff as statue. Completely made of stone, the shock freezing me in place. My blue stare at his features, them the size of saucers. The kiss is gentle at first. Tentative. Then I close my eyes, my eyelashes fluttering closed. This is happening. This is actually happening.

His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. One made of warm flesh, the other made of cold metal. The kiss grows heated, my hands finding his shoulders. My heart keeps hammering. Hammering against the chest bone. There's a fire brewing in me. And Bucky Barnes lit the match.

Moments are always fleeting. Eventually, the kiss slows, his lips parting from mine. I'm too scared to open my eyes. I'm too scared to look into his and face the reality that this happened.

This actually happened. Bucky Barnes kissed me. And I loved it.

Somehow, I force my eyelashes to flutter open. Blue meet blue, silence claiming the air. He blinks. I blink. And then he blinks again, something shifting in his features. Our hands leave one another's bodies, our cheeks flushing pink. The fire in my chest slowly brews to a different kind of heat. The kind of embarrassment and fear.

a/n - hey guys! huge shoutout to my bff nikki for helping ya girl out months ago, while writing this chapter! anyway, yOURE FREAKING WELCOME! BAVALON IS ALLLLIIIVVEEEEE! let me know what you think and enjoy (: - kenzie