Neither of us slept, a silent agreement.
Instead, we sat side by side against the wall, staring into the dim quiet. The glow of a streetlamp filtered through the blinds, casting thin golden bars across the hardwood. Somewhere outside, a car hummed by, the tires whispering against wet pavement. The apartment groaned softly, as old buildings do when the night settles deep in their bones.
"So… you go to therapy?" I asked, breaking the stillness.
He chuckled at the strange question. "Yeah. It's a condition of my pardon."
"Does it help?"
He took a long moment, squinting off into a thought. "No. But everyone says it will, eventually."
"Everyone? Steve?"
"Yeah. And a few others."
"Where is he? I heard he retired."
He drifted then, his posture slumped just slightly, eyes unfocused, far away. "It's a long story."
I didn't push. Whatever happened to Steve, it wasn't something Bucky could talk about yet. Maybe ever.
He pulled himself back to the moment. "How did you find me?"
I looked away, avoiding the weight of his gaze. "That's… also a long story."
I felt him watching me through the back of my skull. That sharp, quiet stare. The same one Mira has, eyes that look straight through you.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't have anything to do with that fire over in the New York federal builiding, did you?"
"What fire?" I asked quickly, too quickly. The lie came flat and unconvincing.
He clicked his tongue. "So that's where you got it."
I glanced at the clock. 3:30 a.m. "You know, I think I heard Mira get up. I'm gonna go check on her."
I escaped to the bedroom before he could say anything. I didn't expect her to be awake, but sure enough, I opened the door and there she was.
She was lying on her stomach, tablet glowing softly in front of her. The moonlight painted silver across her little form.
I felt him behind me in the doorway, silent.
She hadn't noticed us yet, her legs swayed, her little fingers cradling her cheeks, completely absorbed. A cartoon theme played softly from the speakers.
I heard Bucky's breath catch behind me.
I turned. He stood stiff, shoulders tense. His expression was unreadable except for his eyes, those glacier blues now clouded with panic, awe, and something heartbreakingly vulnerable.
"You ready?" I whispered, knowing he wouldn't ever truly be.
He didn't answer right away, just nodded.
I crept around the bed and crouched beside her, resting a hand on her back. She turned, and her smile shined.
"Hi, Mommy."
"Hey, baby." I glanced back. He had planted himself at the foot of the bed.
"This is your dad, Mira," I whispered gently.
She sat up straight, looking to him with wide eyes. "Hi, Dad!" she said brightly, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
He looked like he might break apart and fall to the floor. But somehow, he smiled. "Hi, Mira. It's… nice to meet you."
She sprang off the bed and wrapped herself around his leg. He stumbled back a step, bumping into the dresser, caught completely off guard but not moving away.
I laughed quietly, warmth in my chest at the sight of him frozen like a statue, unsure how to react to this tiny, unrelenting force of joy.
After I peeled her off his leg and calmed the storm, we moved to the living room. Bucky sat on the floor in stunned silence, watching Mira run around the room like a whirlwind of glee.
The apartment lights were still dim. A light near the kitchen illuminated the room in soft amber hues. I perched on the counter, my legs hanging off, just watching.
He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for an answer to a question he didn't know how to ask.
"This is normal," I said softly. "She's four. She's got the energy of five kids."
He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming.
"Oh, and she might be a super soldier."
His whole body stiffened. "She's what!?"
"Mira, sweetheart," I called out, "can you bring Mommy the couch?"
She grinned, skipped to the couch, lifted one end with a grunt, and carried it to me with ease.
"There you go, Mom!" she said, hopping up and kicking off her shoes and bouncing on it.
Bucky's mouth fell open slightly. "She—she really is…"
I gave him a look. "You good?"
He exhaled a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. "She's incredible."
"She is," I agreed.
He kept staring at her, something soft creeping over his face. There was pride there, but fear, too. I could see the war waging behind his eyes. All the things he'd been through, all the ways he'd once been used. The fear that maybe she'd be seen as a weapon like he had. That maybe she'd suffer the way he had.
But underneath all of that, was awe at this tiny human.
I let the silence stretch. Let him sit with it.
Mira stopped bouncing suddenly, her hand landing on her stomach. "I'm hungry."
"Uh, I… we can" Bucky floundered, standing and searching cupboards. "I don't really have anything here."
"You've got cereal," I said, hopping down from the counter.
He paused, sighed, and grabbed the box. "You searched my place, didn't you?"
"Of course I did." I grinned.
I handed the box to Mira. She reached in and grabbed a handful, stuffed it in her mouth, then stuck out her tongue in protest. "Ew."
Bucky laughed under his breath.
"Special K?" I raised an eyebrow.
"It's good for you," he shrugged. "All the other stuff tasted like chemicals and sugar."
"We gotta get this kid some real food. Late-night diner run?"
"YES! Pancakes!" Mira squealed, jumping off the couch and jamming her feet into her shoes.
Bucky blinked. "It's four in the morning."
"And she wants pancakes," I said, slipping into my coat. "You coming?"
He sighed, yet still planted himself by the door ready to go.
I crouched to lace my boots, of course, they took forever. Mira scampered over to Bucky and reached her arms up, hands flexing with grabby fingers.
He looked bewildered. "What's she…?"
"She wants to be carried. Pick her up, big guy," I said, smirking.
Still keeping his left hand in his pocket, he bent down and lifted her easily into his right arm, resting her comfortably against his side. She snuggled in without hesitation.
He stood there, frozen again, another moment he hadn't prepared for.
"Good job," I said. "Let's go."
And we did. Into the early morning dark, the three of us.