A Distant Memory (Remastered)

~ tether ~

You passed your door. Clint's. Sam's. Each step made your heart beat faster. You were holding your breath and didn't even realize it. Bucky's door was at the end of the hall.

You stopped. Stared at it.

The last time you'd been here, you were wrapped around him after Bruce's birthday — tipsy and breathless, safe in arms you didn't know would become weapons three days later. That memory tried to tangle itself into your thoughts now, but you pushed it away.

You lifted your hand to knock, hesitated. Then three quick knocks. Immediately regretted it. No plan. No words rehearsed. Just raw nerves and fast breathing. Seconds passed. Long, heavy ones. It felt like minutes before the lock clicked. The handle turned.

And the door opened.

Bucky stood there, blinking as if he hadn't expected you to actually be there, despite everything in him hoping for it. His eyes widened, shoulders tensed, breath caught.

He was still in the same clothes from last night. You didn't know what to say, and neither did he.

You spoke first.

"Y-you wanna take a walk?"

He nodded immediately — too quickly — almost like he thought you'd vanish if he waited too long. "Yeah," he said, voice low and hoarse. "I'll change."

You caught the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes as he glanced down at his wrinkled shirt.

"Sure," you nodded, grateful for the brief delay. "I'll meet you on the rooftop?"

His lips twitched, just barely. "Five minutes."

You nodded again, turned, and walked away. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Bucky's legs nearly gave out.

----

He exhaled sharply, hands on his knees, breath shallow like he'd been underwater and just surfaced.

She was here. She came to me.

He straightened quickly, running to his dresser, pulling a clean black hoodie over his head and shucking the same damn T-shirt he hadn't changed in two days. He grabbed his dark jeans, boots, running on adrenaline.

His hands were shaking. It was happening. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it into something less haunted. His fingers trembled as he rubbed at the stubble on his jaw.

What the hell do I even say?

He paced. Back and forth. Words scrambled in his mind, none of them landing. He couldn't let this go wrong. Not after everything. Not when she was finally ready to see him again. This moment was everything.

Or it could be nothing at all.

He stopped pacing. Rolled his shoulders. Exhaled one more breath. Then turned for the door.

—--

12:14 p.m. — Rooftop, Avengers Compound

The sun was higher now, warming the stone beneath your boots. The city buzzed below, a faint hum behind the glass and wind. You stood near the railing, gripping it like it could steady you. Trying to breathe through the pounding in your chest.

Then you heard the door click open.

Bucky stepped out, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight. His eyes met yours immediately.

He looked... scared.

But he crossed the deck in quiet steps and stopped beside you, not too close. Just close enough. You both stood there, side by side, staring at the skyline. Neither of you spoke.