The Falcon, Stark and The Winter Soldier

1

It was a windy morning on a Wednesday in Brooklyn, New York. The city was alive with the usual hum, but for you, everything felt distant, almost out of reach. The loss of Steve and Tony had left a gaping hole in your world, a wound that refused to heal. The weight of grief had crushed you, pushing you away from the people who had once been your family. Hulk, Thor, Natasha, Clint – they were just echoes now. But Bucky... Bucky was the one you couldn't forget. In the years since everything changed, you hadn't heard from him, hadn't seen him. You didn't even know where he was, or if he was okay. Maybe that was for the best.

You had started a new life – a quiet life. You worked as a barista, your days spent making coffee and talking to people who had no idea who you really were. The life you used to have felt like a distant memory, one that you couldn't connect to anymore. You were a completely different person now, and though it was strange, you didn't mind. You had your little apartment on the fifth floor of a building in Brooklyn, 5C, and that was enough.

That morning, the crisp autumn air seemed like a perfect excuse to go for a run. You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on leggings and digging through your drawer for a shirt. As your fingers brushed against fabric, you pulled out an old tee shirt – one that Steve had given you a long time ago. The sight of it made your chest tighten, reminding you of a time when everything still felt whole. But those days were long gone. You couldn't help the wave of regret that washed over you, the feeling that you had abandoned everyone, that you had shut them all out. The memories of how close you'd been with them gnawed at you, pulling you into a darker place.

You closed the door to your apartment, double-checking the lock before heading downstairs. The morning breeze hit you the moment you stepped outside, and you inhaled deeply, letting the coolness clear your head. The city was busy, cars honking, people chatting, but it felt distant, like you were in a world of your own. Deciding to take a different route, you turned left, your pace steady, though your mind was elsewhere.

The run stretched on, but soon you felt the telltale signs of a full bladder. Looking around, you saw a small café called Izzy's. You walked inside, pushing open the door, feeling the eyes of the room land on you. The familiar sensation of being watched settled on your skin, and you quickly scanned the room.

And there he was.

Bucky.

His face was still the same, though time had changed him. His blue eyes locked onto yours, a recognition sparking in his gaze. His expression froze, disbelief creeping into his features. You couldn't move. It was like time had stopped.

Then, with a sudden jerk, he stood up, his eyes widening as if seeing a ghost. The realization hit you like a tidal wave, and without thinking, you ran. You bolted from the café, your legs moving faster than your mind could process. You didn't stop until you were blocks away, gasping for air in an alley, trying to steady your pounding heart.

But then you heard it. A heated argument. You turned your head, noticing a man and woman in the midst of a shouting match. Your heart dropped when you saw the man slap the woman, knocking her to the ground. Without a second thought, you rushed toward them.

"Hey!" you shouted, stepping between them. "Really? This is how you treat women?"

The man sneered, "Leave us alone, kid. I'm teaching her a lesson."

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer. "Oh yeah? You wanna know what happens when someone calls me 'kid'?"

In a swift motion, you kneeled him in the groin, then grabbed his leg, flipping him onto his back.

"This is why I kept in shape," you said, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

The man groaned in pain, clutching himself as he writhed on the ground.