Bucky didn't even want to go on the mission, if he's being honest. Usually he would jump on any chance he could get to leave the tower and do some good for humanity, but not today. He just wants to talk to Static again, or to just be with her. There's something about her presence that just makes him feel less empty. HYDRA left him feeling like a shell of a man, but the hollow feeling disappeared when he was with Static. It's like she understood him without even understanding herself or what was going on.

But instead of being with the girl who makes his perpetual headache subside, he's sitting next to a sweaty Steve Rogers on a helicopter.

They just completed a last-minute mission that Nick Fury sent them on. The men were informed of some hostage situation S.W.A.T. was taking care of in Connecticut at a theater where a concert was taking place. A group of terrorists kept everyone in the theater at gunpoint. The authorities had everything under control until the terrorists started shooting; so, naturally, they contacted the Avengers. Most of their missions are bigger than a single terrorist attack, but Steve insisted Tony that they should help.

Once Steve and Bucky arrived to the theater in which the shooting was taking place, they took down the terrorists and handed them over to the police to bring them to justice. It was a simple and quick mission—in and out.

Evening dawns as Steve and Bucky's helicopter ride comes to an end. The pilot lands on the helipad on the roof of the tower smoothly, allowing the passengers to unbuckle as the landing skids lower to the surface.

"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Steve teases as the men hop off the helicopter onto the roof.

Bucky glances at Steve, walking ahead towards the door that leads to the inside of the tower. "I never said it wasn't going to be."

Steve hogs a few steps until he's in stride with his friend. He peels his gloves off his hands and shakes them out. "I know. You just didn't seem too enthusiastic about going on the mission, is all."

Bucky raises a brow. "Am I supposed to be enthusiastic about a terrorist attack?"

"That's not what I mean," Steve replies, then adds, "Jerk."

"Punk." The word slips past Bucky's lips without a second thought. He doesn't even realize what he's said, or why, until Steve's face breaks out into a grin.

"Just like old times, Buck." Steve sighs. "Just like old times."

⌖

Static is supposed to be sleeping. She's not, though; she's very much awake as she sits on the top of her sheets, examining her bedroom. It would be normal for a young woman to be interested in her sleeping quarters, but Static isn't exactly paying attention to how stylish her room is. She's playing around with her eyes.

She zooms in and out on different objects around the room. After a while of just that, she finds out that she has night vision. It's like there's a remote in her head that her brain is controlling. When she thinks hard enough and focuses hard enough, she can zoom or switch to night vision. It's all very strange to Static, but she secretly hopes there's still more she hasn't found out about her eyes' ability.

At 3:19 am, while Static is still testing out her vision, there are multiple sets of footsteps outside her door. She pauses and brings her eyes back into focus, glancing at her closed bedroom door. Shadows of passing feet pass under the sliver of a crack of the door. A muffled voice incoherently speaks at a hushed volume, and a different voice replies in the same tone so Static can't pick up on their exchange.

Once the shadows disappear and the footfalls trail off into silence, Static pushes herself off her bed. The floorboards creak under the weight of her metal legs. She cringes at the loud sound and tiptoes across the floor to the door. The moonlight streaming in from her open window reflects off her hand as it extends and grabs the doorknob. Quietly, Static twists and pushes.

When she pokes her head out of the door, she finds the hallway empty. Whoever was walking by is gone.

Making sure that she stays silent, the raven-haired girl slips out of the crack in the door and shuts it behind her. The only sound her ears pick up on is the random tower noises, probably the ventilation or something of the like.

She makes her way to the kitchen. She remembers the path from Natasha leading her around earlier, everything laid out like a map in her mind. She knows where to turn and when, and soon enough she ends up at her destination.

Only, the kitchen isn't empty like she assumed it would be at this hour. Perched up at the counter on a bar stool sipping from a glass of water is the only other person in the Avengers with a metal limb. His has a red star on the shoulder, whereas Static has no stars or other shapes.

His dark hair hangs in front of his blue eyes, shielding his gaze. He's in a black long-sleeve shirt, so the only part of his prosthetic on display is his hand that is wrapped around his glass.

Static immediately starts to turn around when she sees the kitchen is occupied, but she hesitates, studying Bucky and the way he's hunched over the counter. His metal finger draws circles in the condensation coating the cup.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Static startles, blinking in surprise. She accidentally zooms in, so she has to blink a few more times to get it back to normal. Once she does, she sees that Bucky's head is tilted up and he's looking straight at her. His blue eyes sparkle in the dim light of the moon.

She shifts on her feet. "Not tired. I slept all day, so I don't feel like sleeping any more."

Bucky nods. He takes a swig of his water and motions to the bar stool next to his.

"You're welcome to take a seat, if you want."

Hesitantly, she pads over to the counter and slides into the stool next to Bucky's. When she's seated, Bucky takes another sip of his water before turning his head. He studies the raven-haired girl for a few seconds silently.

"Your eyes are glowing." Bucky flickers his eyes between hers. "Like, the circles in your irises."

Static doesn't know how to respond. She clears her throat and looks down at her hands resting on the countertop.

When she doesn't say anything, Bucky sighs.

"Sorry."

Static frowns and looks at him. "What are you sorry for?"

He shrugs and circles his finger over the rim of his glass. "It looked like you didn't like me pointing out how your eyes glow. So, I'm sorry if I made you upset."

"You didn't make me upset," Static says, brow pulled forward. "I just . . . I don't know. I'm still trying to come to terms with my body. It's weird." She holds her hands up in front of her. "I mean, I'm more mechanical parts than human. It probably makes me look like some kind of cyborg villain from a movie."

Bucky frowns at her words. He's thought something along the lines of what she's thinking, but for some reason, he doesn't like her thinking like that. She isn't a villain, and she needs to know that. Bucky still has trouble coming to terms with who he was and who he is now.

"You're not a villain," Bucky speaks after a short while.

Static lets out a humorless laugh. "Then why do I feel like one?" She sets her metal hands back down on the counter and turns to meet Bucky's eyes. "I don't remember anything, yet I feel like I'm . . . like I'm a bad person—a villain. The bad guy." She shakes her head. "I don't know why. I just feel like I've got perpetually dirty hands."

Bucky gently pushes his glass of water to the side and turns his body so he's fully facing Static. They don't break eye-contact, her pain-filled gaze piercing through his heart. He gets the sudden urge to hug her tight, which is weird, considering he isn't too fond hugs—or human contact or emotions in general, really.

"You're not a bad person, Static," Bucky says, sincerity dripping from his voice.

She looks away. "I hate that name," she murmurs under her breath.

Bucky sees where she's coming from; the name isn't exactly the warmest one. It's a name of an intimidating person would have, and Static isn't that. Bucky doesn't know her personality, and neither does she, but he knows that she isn't intimidating or threatening. She seems like the type of person to eat cereal for dinner, and if she had to be mean to someone, she would insult them, not kill or physically hurt them.

So, agreeing with her, Bucky asks, "What do you want to be called?"

The raven-haired girl runs her metal hand through her hair. "I don't know." She glances at Bucky. "You pick."

His eyes glide over her dark hair. "Raven?"

She shakes her her head. "That still sounds dark."

Bucky leans back and ponders over a new name for the girl. Her hair is dark like a raven, but her heart isn't. She isn't a dark person, but if you'd look at her, the first animal you'd think of would be a bird. It isn't because she's thin and twig-like, because with her intense training  at HYDRA and her robotic limbs she's very muscular for a woman, but rather because of her freedom. She was just freed from being held captive and brainwashed for at least a decade, and even though she doesn't remember any of it, she looks like she feels the most free as she's ever felt.  She walks with her head high despite her hindrances and differences. And, when she is completely freed from her demons, Bucky knows she will soar.

So, keeping all of this in mind, Bucky suggests another name. "Sparrow?"

The girl pauses. She mulls over the name, whispering it under her breath a few times to get the feel of it, and then nods. A small smile spreads across her lips.

"Sparrow it is."