A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

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Bucky was just placing his and Marlow's breakfast on the desk when he saw Steve and Sam approach the door. He sent them a quick look and they paused, eyes flicking to where Marlow was seated in front of the window, staring into the browned forest.

When he saw them in the halls earlier, he very briefly explained what happened yesterday and agreed that it would be good for them to come see her. He could tell that she wanted them around, and they—well, not so much Sam, but Steve missed her. And was worried about her. And felt guilty.

Bucky was in the meeting nearly two months ago when they decided how the mission would happen. Steve was worried then, looking to the few who sat around that table for support to stop her, but no one opposed her. Why would they? She was a grown woman who wanted to help, and Steve, regardless of what he said, could use it. It was a lot for one person, and Marlow was eager to go.

Looking back now though, even he felt guilty. He didn't want to go on some trip through time and space; that sounded almost as bad as having to deal with Thanos again. So, he let her volunteer. He was finished fighting incomprehensible threats, and he didn't understand—let alone want—to use some super advanced jet to fly to different planets and wager with a ghost from his past. He just wanted some quiet. Some simplicity.

And because he was right, his cowardice was laced with guilt because maybe if Marlow had a partner, none of that would have happened.

But he had been too afraid.

"Buck?"

He jerked his head to where Steve now stood directly beside him, watching him with a worried expression.

"Don't frown, it'll give you wrinkles," he mumbled, repeating the line his mother used to tut.

"Yah, unfortunately the serum didn't help much with that," Steve chuckled, squeezing his shoulder.

Then from behind him, a quiet voice called out.

"Don't worry Steve, you don't look a day over ninety-eight," Marlow quipped.

Steve inched his head to the left to see past Bucky's, cocking a brow at the girl. "Didn't I ever teach you to respect your elders?"

"Was that between punching them or tying them up?"

A gentle smile pulled at Steve's lips, and he let go of Bucky, walking past him and stopping in front of the girl. "I've missed you kid."

In response, Marlow stood, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

He couldn't help but wonder how they'd gotten so close. And really, how she'd gotten so close to all of them in what, a year? Two? He was almost jealous—not of their relationship, but of her ability to fall into place with people. Steve, Sam, Wanda, Natasha. Sure, they all had the same principles, but they were different. He might not have known Natasha, but he knew she was closed off, a result of her up-bringing and profession, and from what he understood, it took years for her and Steve to reach a level of transparency to truly become friends. But she seemed to have done it in a matter of months. Somehow, she'd drawn her in.

She even drew him in.

In the weeks leading up to the mission, they only had a handful of interactions, peppered with sarcastic comments and jabs in between, yet he was fairly certain they were friends. One night he'd been in the commissary, unwilling to go back to sleep after a nightmare, and she walked in. She must have noticed something was wrong because she started talking to him, showing him funny videos on her phone, effortlessly distracting him from what he'd been so focused on only moments before. And when he mentioned that he didn't understand a movie reference or like a song, she insisted she show him one day or had him recommend a song that he liked.