*6 Months Later*
The weather in Paris was surprisingly warm for a November afternoon. Your son, George Barnes, who you had named after Bucky's father, was in a stroller as you walked through the city. Today was the day that six months ago, you had been proposed to. It had been six months since you had seen or heard from the team. After arriving in Paris, you had waited to hear from them but no phone call ever came. After a week, you turned off your phone and ignored the news, a part of you didn't want to know if any of them were alive. If they wanted to find you they could, and they hadn't.
You picked up some flowers for your apartment on the way back, and made it back in time before it went dark. Putting George to sleep in his crib, you opened the door that led out to your small balcony, you stood there for a while. Hoping that wherever Bucky was, he was thinking about you. You were thinking about him, he never left your mind. Your son had the same piercing blue eyes as him. Everywhere you looked you were constantly reminded of him. It took its toll on you.
Living in Paris, a lot had changed for you. Suddenly thrown into this world of having to be financially dependent after relying on your dad all those years. You twisted the engagement ring round your finger, the image of Bucky proposing replaying on repeat in your head. "I'll find you" were Bucky's last words to you. Yet it had been six months, and the hope of him coming back was all gone. It was just you and your son now.
As it got colder, you went inside and turned on the tv. Skipping to your favourite channel, when a header on the news channel stopped you. After leaving Malibu you rarely watched the news, too scared for what it might tell you. "The legendary Tony Stark issued a press conference statement last week, last we heard no one has yet to come forward," said the reporter. They were stood outside of what was left of Stark Tower. Every memory from the tower felt gone, maybe because you'd tried to ignore them since you left. Hoping it would make life easier.
The news station then played footage. Your dad was stood outside what was left of Stark Tower, his hair was overgrown, he looked tired. He was probably worrying over you. "If my daughter is watching this, and she's safe, I want her to know I'm sorry, It's six months late and you probably moved on, but if you're out there Y/n, and you're listening, let me know you're okay, please," he said. He hadn't mentioned Bucky and the rest of the team. You had to tell him you were okay. Despite having an easy life in Paris, you would do anything to see the team again. To see Bucky again. To tell your dad it was okay, and that you were sorry too.
Packing a bag, throwing in some of your favourite clothes and everything that George would need you turned off the tv. You picked up your son, "Let's go find your dad," you said. Maybe you wouldn't have to do everything alone. Maybe you would be able to have what you had before this mess. Your son smiled at you, as if he knew what you were saying.
Closing the apartment door and shifting the weight of your son onto your hip you headed down to call a taxi. You had to find your dad, and you had to find out what happened.