Say my Name-rewrite

"She's not wrong, you know."

Bucky's POV:

The party dragged on for hours, well into the early morning, but I couldn't stop watching her. Maya. Every time I tried to look away, my eyes would find her again. It wasn't like I planned it, but it's like something in me was magnetized to her.

She spent the evening moving around effortlessly, laughing and dancing with Wanda, deep in conversation with Nat, making everything she did look easy. There was a confidence about her, but not the showy kind—just natural, like she belonged anywhere she went.

Then there was that damn pool table.

Steve, Sam, Clint, and Scott had been huddled around it most of the night, cracking jokes and throwing down challenges like usual. Maya joined in, and I didn't think much of it at first. But then she beat them. Every single game. One by one, she wiped the table clean, and they all just stood there, stunned. She didn't gloat, didn't rub it in, just smiled that quiet, knowing smile. The one that had been messing with my head since I first saw it.

I sipped my drink, trying to play it cool, but I kept catching glimpses of her from across the room. The way she handled herself, the way she moved—it was hard not to notice.

Once Maya finished wiping the floor with the guys at pool, she casually wandered over to where Tony and Pepper were sitting on one of the sofas. I watched her sink into the seat next to them, her posture relaxed, but there was something in the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, a flicker of uncertainty. Maybe it was because Pepper turned her full attention toward her.

"Tony has told me quite a bit about you," Pepper started, her voice warm and friendly, but I could see the slight shift in Maya's expression. The tiniest blush crept across her cheeks, and she tried to play it off, straightening her back a little.

"Very accomplished for such a young age. I'm curious what made you choose this profession?" Pepper asked, her curiosity genuine.

Maya let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but grounded, like she'd been asked that question a hundred times but never really gave a straight answer. I leaned forward slightly, my glass hanging in my hand, almost desperate to know her answer.

She shifted in her seat and met Pepper's eyes. "Human nature intrigues me," she said with a subtle smile. "The age-old question of why people do what they do."

There was a confidence in her words, a kind of fascination that I hadn't noticed before. It wasn't just a job to her—it was something deeper. The way she said it made me think she didn't just want to understand others. She wanted to understand herself, too.

Pepper nodded thoughtfully, but I could see Tony watching Maya with that same knowing look he always gave when someone impressed him. I took another sip of my drink, eyes flicking back to Maya. That drive of hers, that curiosity... It wasn't just attractive. It was dangerous.

Tony's voice slices through my thoughts. "So, why forensic psychology? Why put yourself in front of the worst of the worst?" he asks, leaning forward, genuinely interested in her answer.

Maya breaks eye contact with him, her gaze flicking back and forth like she's weighing her words, figuring out how much to reveal. I watch her closely, wondering what she'll say, but when she finally responds, her answer hits me in a way I didn't expect.

"Not everyone who does bad things is truly bad," she says softly, her voice measured but firm. "There's always a reason. A backstory. Some... traumatic event that altered their being. We know that most of our habits, our idiosyncrasies, are essentially learned behavior. Things that have been modeled for us in our formative years."

I take a slow breath, the weight of her words settling over me. I wasn't prepared for that. It's not the typical answer, not the one people give when asked why they'd choose to face criminals, killers, the ones who've done unspeakable things. But she doesn't see it in black and white. She sees the layers, the broken pieces behind the actions. The idea that someone who's done horrible things isn't just the sum of those actions—that there's something deeper, something broken that led them there—it's not just a philosophy for her. It's a belief.