The day after Mallory spent all day ignoring Liam's phone-calls. She knew he wanted to talk about things, about marriage, about moving in together and talking about things after feeling so dejected from last night would be to hard. She betted she'd end up saying something horrible to him.

So she did everything to distract herself from him. Woke up her mother and took her on to a doctors appointment to get her heart tested again for the promise of more booze – this was seriously becoming a problem now. She ran errands all day. Grocery shopping, DIY on fixing that broken bathroom shelf, oiling all of the joints for the doors in the house so they wouldn't squeak… she was so restless and anxious that she even went out for a run after she was finished. Christ she was unfit but as her heart was thudding when she made it back home she felt better. She was so busy she hadn't even spoken to James all day. Hadn't even seen him.

It was only when she was washing the sweat off her body in the shower that it struck her as odd. She had gone days before not speaking to him face to face but he'd always text or call. Sometimes it was even just sending her a little emoji or a picture of something he'd found funny or interesting that day. It was an unspoken agreement between them both – contact always to make sure he was still coping okay. And because they were friends.

Steaming from the shower and dressed only in a little dressing gown with her hair still soaking, she knocked on his door. Her hair dripped onto the floorboards.

"James?" Maybe he was asleep. She opened the door gently, in case she found him mid undressing or… god could she even think it? Mid pleasuring himself. Her look of second hand embarrassment faded when the room was empty. The windows were still open, the large curtains fluttering softly in the wind and the bed was pristine. Almost like he hadn't slept in it.

"MOM!"

Julie didn't answer so Mallory padded back to her mother's bedroom and found her passed out. The room smelt like stale whiskey and two day old sweat. Mallory recoiled then pinched her mother awake.

"Wha'… whassamatter?"

Mallory wrinkled her nose. "Have you seen James today?"

Julie snuggled back into the covers. "Naaaah."

Mallory went back into James's bedroom. It was not unusual for James to be out of the house. He liked to go down the park to go for runs or even go sit in the local Starbucks with a cap on sipping on a venti coffee and watching the people go about their lives. What was unusual was the fact he hadn't said he was leaving.

That's when she saw it. A creamy white envelope set on the bedside table, her name written in James's cursive script. Frowning, Mallory plucked it from the table and tore it open, her wet hair making contact with the ink and ruining the neatness of the handwriting:

Dear Mallory,

I really didn't want to do this face to face. It's not that you don't deserve an explanation. I'm just too ashamed to actually say anything to you because I know you'll convince me to stay. Successfully. I don't think I could ever say no to you.

But I didn't want to do it over text or email or anything. Not that these new inventions aren't great, because they are – I can see you in my mind rolling your eyes as I write this. They're just a little impersonal. I think a letter was a nice alternative. You don't get too many letters nowadays.

I've been thinking about leaving for sometime a while now. It's not that I'm unsatisfied unhappy with you or your mom or ungrateful with the crazy amount of help you've given me over the year. Because I'm really not. I just can't live here anymore.

It's nothing on you. You have been an incredible doctor to me and an even better friend when I didn't deserve any of it. I have done so many terrible, disgusting things to everyone, especially to you and I deserve none of your forgiveness, never mind the love and the welcome you've given me. I just want you to know that. That it's nothing to do with you because you're incredibleridiculously nice attractive deserving of moreamazing.

I thought I needed to find myself Bucky before I could see Steve again and I know you disagreed with me because you thought Steve would love me no matter what. I didn't understand it at the time because I'd been the Soldier for so long I didn't just lose my memories or myself as him, I lost what it was like to have a friend. I didn't understand how Steve would still love me as he had.

But now I know what it's like. I have you. I understand what you meant. You love me as I am and it reminded me that he will in time. And that gives me hope. I will see you again. That's a promise.

But not right now. Things are starting to come back properly. My memories are strange and they're starting to scare me. I find I can't concentrate on being a functioning member of society, of being a friend that you need when all I can think about is all of the awful things I've done. I'm dangerous. I could hurt you and I would never want to do that. Staying here would be selfish.

Even if you take nothing away from this rambling mess of a letter which I promise we're near the end now and even if you don't ever want to see me again and even if you've stopped caring, I want you to know how thankful I am. Your friendship meant everything to me.

Thank you,

James Buchanan Barnes.

PS. Next time we see each other, I think you could call me Bucky.

Mallory had forgotten to breathe. She imagined him writing this during the night. How the writing had begun shakily but eventually toughened and became smooth. His forehead creasing as he searched for the right word. His tongue between his teeth as he reread what he'd wrote and scratched out the wrong phrases.

Oh James. Oh Bucky. She sank into the chair by the desk and held the paper to her chest. Her mouth opened to call for her mother but her mother was too wrapped up in her own misery to share this one. Then, Mallory saw a spiders web in the corner of the room and her brain sparked.

She took the family car to the park, leaving no less than seven messages for Nat to meet her. The redhead turned up half an hour after as Mallory sat with her wet hair tucked into an oversized hoodie. A hoodie, she realized as she watched Nat sashay her way across the park, that was James's. His scent clung to it, wrapping her in a phantom hug that they'd never gotten to share.

"What's wrong?" Nat asked, sinking onto the park bench. Mallory's mouth opened and she hesitated; what was she going to say? Everything. I have to tell them everything.

"I have something to tell you."

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Outside of a familiar block of flats, Natasha Romanoff glanced back at Sam in the rear-view mirror of the car.

"Are you sure we have to get her involved?"

Sam's eyebrows creased sympathetically at Nat's words but before he could speak, Wanda beside him cut in.

"You said she was his weakness."

"She is." Sam countered but sighed. "But she's no agent. Or Avenger."
"I understand she's your friend, Nat." Wanda said, sounding entirely like she didn't quite understand. Natasha didn't blame her for being a little naive; she was young, what did she know about romantic love? "But I understand she knows about moral duty. And why wouldn't she want to bring him down? Didn't he pretend to be in love with her for a while and broke her heart?"

Nat and Sam exchanged uncomfortable glances. Both were sympathetic towards the situation whereas Wanda and Steve were a little more stuck. Steve's anger towards her was understandable. He had initially threw his cup of coffee against the wall when Mallory had repeated the tale she'd told Natasha. James has been living with me. Steve had sucked in a breath, thrown the cup then was panting heavily. All this time and he was under my nose? Mallory had had the grace to look ashamed. All this time. I'm so so sorry Steve.

Nat spoke to diffuse the building silence. "It was a little more complicated than that."

"How?"

Nat sighed and pushed her sunglasses up to nestle in her hair. "He fell in love with her. For real."

"You can't seriously believe that." Steve said. Nat glared at him.

"You've seen the footage at S.H.I.E.L.D's old headquarters. You wouldn't be that worried if you hadn't fallen in love."

Steve made a noise of disagreement.

"You'll have to show me when we get back. Are we going?" Wanda made a move to open the door. Sam stopped her and nodded towards Nat.

"I think you should do it. Alone. If we all go in, she might think we're being manipulative."

"I prefer the term relentlessly persuasive." Steve said, then pressed his lips together when Nat met his eyes pleadingly. "Fine. Try and hurry up a little. We're on the clock here."

Nat nodded and stepped out onto the busy street. Cars wove in and out of the road and Nat felt the uncertain prickle of eyes on her. She was too paranoid nowadays.

She'd had eyes on Mallory for a while now. She'd moved back into her old apartment and sent all of Rumlow's old stuff to the big trash heap. She'd even had a hair cut; her tumbling mess was shortened to a bob about three months ago, but was starting to lengthen again. It was a sign of her moving on, properly since she'd moved in with her old boyfriend Liam with the auburn hair. Their relationship seemed curiously flat from a distance; he'd take her hand and she'd find some excuse to drop it, she'd chuckle politely at a joke and look utterly disinterested at him in a restaurant. Nat hoped the relationship fared better when they were alone.

Mallory's apartment was on the fourth floor and Nat climbed each step with growing apprehension. She was just about calculating how she'd annouce herself – knock on the door out of the blue? Phone call first? But the door opened and a man with auburn hair stepped out fixing a cufflink.

"Mal! Get your ass in gear." Liam looked up from the cufflink and stopped walking, halting his path of collision with Nat. "Huh. And you are?"

"Natasha."

"Oh. You're Natasha." His eyes flicked up and down her quickly. "Uhm. We were just-"

"There's a black car outside. Doesn't look like the taxi. Who are you talking too?" Mallory came out, fixing an earring, wearing a short red dress with her new hair curled tightly. "Oh. Nat. Is that your car outside?"

Natasha nodded and said somewhat urgently, "We need to talk."

Mallory looked uncertainly to Liam who sighed. "We'll be late for the reservation."

Mallory looked completely torn, shifting all of her weight on her left foot as she balanced to make a decision. Her eyes flicked between the two before she widened the door and kicked her heels off.

"This'll only take a minute." Mallory promised him fruitlessly. Natasha shook her head.

"A little longer than that."

They stepped inside Mallory's kitschy apartment but Nat didn't sink down on the chairs or ask for coffee. Nat folded her arms and stayed standing, trying to impress upon her dear friend how important this was.

"Is this about James?"

"Your cousin? I thought you said he moved away."

Natasha was glad Liam didn't know any details. "No. It's about someone else. I think you should sit down."

"I'm gonna stay standing, thanks." Mallory's voice hardened and then she softened immediately, her shoulders tight with anxiety. "Nat what happened? What's wrong?"

She had to just say it. "It's Rumlow. He's still alive."

A/N: Thank yo all so much for reading! Look out for the true sequel, Civil War!