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It was dark at the kitchen island where Marlow tapped quietly at her tablet, doing her best to get used to the interface of Tony Stark's tracking system.

She couldn't get access to the satellite imaging yet—something to do with company approval and NDA's—but the program she was using wasn't part of the company effects, so Pepper invited her to one the of the Stark Industries offices to get a scaled-back version installed onto her tablet.

Being in such an unfamiliar environment made Marlow feel on edge, and although Pepper reassured her that the recycling of Tony's programs was alright—and that she was sorry that she hadn't looked into Wanda's disappearance herself—Marlow felt like she was picking at an unhealed wound.

But Pepper didn't seem upset or uncomfortably reminded of the past either, instead she offered a not-so-subtle pressure for Marlow to return to Stark Industries, intrigued by her experience and apparent ability to navigate Tony's programming.

Her eyes shifted to the grey folder that sat open beside her, unsure of what her next move should be. Yes, it was flattering—and tempting—but not only was she not sure if she could do whatever Pepper thought she could, it was also unfamiliar territory.

For months, her world revolved around the house, becoming comfortable with herself again, managing her demons—she wasn't sure if she could manage much more.

But it would be getting back to the normal she had before Hydra...

With a sigh, she placed the tablet onto the countertop, letting her eyes close.

She'd only managed a few hours of sleep before getting up and deciding to jump back onto the program to see what else she could get the program to do. She was antsy to know every in and out; worried that if she didn't, Wanda would stay hidden.

That thought mixed with the guilt for not looking for her sooner made the room feel too tight.

Slipping off the stool, she went to the balcony, stepping into the cool morning before gratefully letting out a long breath.

She found herself noting the things around her; the man on the bike, pigeons on a wire, the coldness of the cement on her feet, cars passing, a horn, a cat, the humidity hanging in the air, the smell of fresh baking, a siren, the coolness of the rail.

Each little thing a distraction, and each little thing something that kept her breathing.

Foolish that they kept her level-headed...

It seemed like she was losing her ability to manage her emotions again. Everything was back to being overbearing, making her frustration bubble considering it had been going well for a little while.

A few months of steadiness.

Her nerves jolted as the door opened behind her, and she had to tell herself it was Bucky. She wouldn't give into her fear and turn to check because it was Bucky.

"Mornin'," he mumbled, voice gruff and low. A moment later, he came to a stop beside her and braced his forearms against the rail. "Saw you made yourself busy, how long have you been awake?"

She glanced over at him and nodded. "A couple hours, I think... I couldn't stop thinking about Wanda."

"We'll find her."

"I wish I believed that... It feels like I messed up it up. I don't understand how I haven't thought of her since that night; it's like I just forgot."

"She isn't your responsibility, Marlow. It was her decision to leave. She obviously doesn't want to be found."

"But she's alone. No one should be alone," she said quietly.

A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky BarnesWhere stories live. Discover now