She bites her lip as she looks at his door, wondering if she should knock. She wants to. He's been so distracted, so sad, since she met him, and the way Agent Romanov looks at her makes her think it's her fault. She wants to talk to him, to apologize. She doesn't actually know what she made him see, but she knows whatever it was, it was bad. Stark said he was the only one to walk away un-rattled by her visions, but she doesn't believe him. Steve Rogers wasn't just rattled by her visions, that much she knows. She felt his heart breaking in that dream. At the time, she'd been glad. Now, well, now she doesn't think there's much she regrets more.

Steve is… he's the most honest, gentle, good person she's ever met. Every time she accidentally brushes his mind, she sees it again- he's got a heart that's even bigger on the inside. He's her teacher, her trainer, her teammate, and her friend. He helped her through losing her brother, and adjusting to being an Avenger. He's the one that figured out there might be a way to bring Pietro back, or at least he's the only one that thought to tell her. He's been like an older brother to her, and she thinks Pietro will like him when she finally gets him back.

But for all Steve is, he's also so, so sad. When she looks into him with her powers she sees the lines where he broke and was glued back together. Even the brief brushes against his mind have been enough to show her that there are pieces missing. He tries so hard to stand on his own two feet, to not let anyone see how broken he is inside. But she sees. She can't help it. And she needs to apologize, because part of that -and it really doesn't matter how small that part is- part of that is because of her. She wants to fix him, if she can. Right the wrongs she helped make. For all he's done for her, he deserves that much. She knocks on his door.

He answers, and his welcoming smile is enough to melt her heart, even though she knows he isn't for her. "Wanda. How are you?"

"Uh, I… can I come in?"

"Of course." He ushers her inside. "What do you need?"

"I…" She's been planning this for weeks, just waiting for a break in their training so she can talk to him, but now that she's here, it's hard to begin. "I wanted to apologize."

He blinks, and she feels his surprise. "Apologize? For what?"

"For what I did, when we fought. The dream I gave you."

His eyes widen, and at the mention of the dream she feels his pain, sharp as a knife. She's opened a wound in him. Still, he smiles, and if she couldn't feel it she'd think he was completely fine. "It's alright. You were doing what you thought was best. No need to apologize."

"There is," she insists. "I don't know what you saw, but I know I hurt you. I want to make that right."

His smile hurts her, and she can't tell if that's because she's feeling his pain or her own. "I'm fine. Really. You don't-"

"Bullshit." She doesn't intend to say it until it comes out, but really, how can she not when his pain is hitting her right in the heart? "I can feel it. You're not fine."

He sighs. "It's not… it's not from what you did. It's…" He looks away, glances at a picture hanging on the wall by the door- black and white, pencil drawing of a man she's never seen. The pain spikes like a stab to the heart. There are undertones of fear, and of shame. He doesn't want her to see his weakness, to know what's causing him such pain. She follows that feeling, almost without realizing what she's doing. He doesn't want her to think less of him for being hurt, thinks if people see him wounded they won't believe in his strength. He doesn't want to lean on anyone, he can't, because if he does, if he lets himself need someone, they'll just leave. He's afraid, deep down inside, so deep he doesn't even realize it. He's afraid of being alone.

"Steve…" she can't help it, she reaches out, lays a hand on his arm. "How can I help?"

He steps out from under her hand. "I'm alright. I'm dealing."

"No," she says simply. "You're not."

The silence stretches between them, as he thinks of things to say. His instincts are telling him to run, to shut this down before he gets hurt, but his safe place is gone, he has nowhere to run to. She can't believe none of the others pushed him past this point, that none of them have even tried, but maybe it's because they can't see into his mind, they don't feel his hurt. He's a good actor, he has to be, but she sees past the facade. And she wants to know how to fix this, to make it better, because he's Steve, and he deserves the very best. She just doesn't know how.

"May I?" she asks, because she's learned not to just go rooting around in someone's brain, but she needs to know. Scarlet flares in her eyes and around her fingers, and he frowns at her.

"No."

"I want to help you," she insists. He turns away.

"I don't need help."

"Yes," she tells him. "You do." When he says nothing she continues. "I will tell you what my brother told me. Just because you can stand on your own does not mean you should have to." She steps forward, puts her hand on his arm again, and this time he does not pull away. "Let me help."

He looks at her, and she can feel his conflicted emotions. He wants to let her in, but he can't. He's scared. The man who could face down an army without a blink is scared of her, and she knows why. The last time she was in his mind, she broke it. He doesn't know if she can put it back together. She doesn't either, but she has to try. At last, he nods.

"Do it."

Scarlet flares around them and she's-

Eight years old and trying to cross the street. Bullies stop him. The sisters have told him to run but he won't. He won't just lay down and give up. He gets the stuffing knocked out of him, but still he stands. It hurts, but he always hurts somewhere. They'll kill him, but he still won't give up. Then there's a kid that saves him. Dark blue eyes. Easy smile. "My friends call me Bucky." He never walks home alone again.

Thirteen, and he doesn't know what the other guys are talking about. Katherine Hepburn isn't as good looking as Bucky. He doesn't understand why they don't say those things about Bucky, who's good and kind and strong and beautiful. He asks Bucky. Bucky tells him never to say that again, and his face is white. He doesn't understand, but Bucky doesn't want him to talk about it so he doesn't. The sketchbooks filled with nothing but Bucky stay under his mattress. Nobody ever sees them but him.

Fourteen and watching Bucky start dating. It hurts, and he doesn't understand why. He spends his saturday nights alone, missing Bucky, but he's had too many double dates where he got to comfort the 'loser' of the pair of girls Bucky asked. Seeing Bucky looking at a girl with desire in his eyes, and wishing Bucky would look at him like that.

Sixteen and sick. The doctors say he's dying, but he's not. He's made it this far, he's not giving up. Bucky sits beside him the whole time, and he feels bad for being happy that Bucky's with him instead of out with some girl. Bucky keeps holding on to his wrist, checking his pulse. His face is drawn and pale, and he won't move from his bedside. He feels guilty for making him worry. But he missed spending time with Bucky like this, and says so. When he's better, Bucky promises to only go out every other saturday. The rest of the weekends they spend together. There are now too many sketchbooks to hide under the mattress. He hides them in the closet instead. Bucky finds them, but pretends not to see. He pretends not to know that he's pretending.

Eighteen and Bucky gets a steady girlfriend. He smiles, and congratulates him, but it feels like his heart is being cut out with a knife. He knows he's going to have to share Bucky eventually. Bucky's going to want kids, a family. And he deserves them. But god it hurts.

Eighteen and a half and dying. This might really be it this time. Bucky sells everything he can to keep their small apartment heated and him fed. Coughing up blood and trying to hide it because he doesn't want Bucky to worry. Bucky's girlfriend breaks up with him. Bucky doesn't care. He sits at his bedside and orders him to get well. He says he will, for a kiss. It's a joke, because he promised, all those years ago, that he'd never bring it up again. But he's sick, and slightly delirious, so he can't be blamed for saying it. But Bucky nods seriously and leans in. Kisses him on the forehead. Tells him, "get better, and you'll get a real one." He's got no option but to get better after that.

Nineteen and the happiest he's ever been. They can't tell anyone about the things they do when they're alone. In public, Bucky still dates girls, takes them dancing. But the double-dates aren't so bad, because it's him and Bucky, and the girls, well, most of the time they're girls like them, together but hiding it for the sake of propriety. For the first time, he enjoys going out on dates. He's got a job, and they go to art classes in the evening. They're building a life, and the future looks bright.

Twenty three and there's a war on. He wants to join up. His father was a soldier, it's in his blood. Bucky doesn't like it, but he doesn't tell him no. They promise to go together. Only, Bucky passes the physical. He doesn't. He watches as Bucky leaves for training and tries not to die a little inside. Bucky will come back, he has to. And in the meantime, he'll find a way to pass that exam.

He doesn't find a way. The day before Bucky ships out, they go on another date, to the fair. Clara tries to distract him, but she's not about to lose her partner. Elly is a girl, there's not even a chance she'll ever be drafted. There's a recruitment station at the fair. He tries his luck. Succeeds. But by the time he gets home, Bucky is gone. Off to war.

Twenty five and everything is different. He's different. Taller. Stronger. Healthy. He's everything he's always wanted to be, but Bucky looks at him like he doesn't even know him sometimes, and it hurts. But Bucky gets used to it. Things fall into a new normal. They spend their days fighting and their nights alone together in his tent. The rest of the team know the score, but respect them both too much to rat them out. It's war. It's hell. The others get homesick. But Bucky is here, and he's all the home he's ever really needed. Bucky laughs at him for being a sap, but at night, when he thinks he's asleep, Bucky whispers that he's his home too.

Twenty seven and watching him fall. Watching him fall. Watching him fall. Screaming his name. Loosing him. He's gone. His safe place, his home, is gone. On a rocketing train on snow-covered mountain and he has lost the only thing that was ever really his. Standing up and finishing the mission because it's what he would have wanted. Going back to an empty tent, two bedrolls side-by-side. Sleeping in a too-big bed and missing him. Missing him. Missing him. There's a hole inside and it just keeps getting bigger, and nothing he does can ever fill it. It hurts worse than anything, but he won't let it show. Killing and killing and killing, he didn't want to kill but now he doesn't care. He can't save anyone but he can kill the enemy.

The night before the final battle and his men are celebrating outside. This is it, Hydra is going down, they've all but won and everyone knows it. He stays in his tent drawing him. He can't get the eyes right. God, why can't he get the eyes right? He can't remember his eyes.

The plane. He's watching Schmidt burn up before his eyes, and feeling nothing but a vague sense of justice. This is it. It's over. But he can't go home, because home was him, and he's dead on a mountain somewhere in Europe. He wants to stay near him. The plane is crashing and he's scared but he's also relieved. Now he won't have to live without him.

Waking up. He wasn't supposed to wake up. He doesn't understand. He's afraid. Something is wrong, off, not like it should be. He doesn't know the nurse. She's nervous. She's lying. Running. The building is too shiny, silver and black and bright lights. He doesn't understand, he was supposed to be dead. Where's Peggy? Where's Dum-Dum? Where's Morita? Where's Falsworth? Where's Gabe? Where's Dernier? Where's Bucky? Where's Bucky? Where's Bucky?

Outside is too bright. Too loud. Different. Where is he? He doesn't understand. He has to get home. Has to find Bucky. This has to be a dream. But no, it's a nightmare. He doesn't wake up. He can't- he's already awake.

Fury finding him, bringing him in, explaining the situation. He's been asleep. Everyone he ever knew is dead or has forgotten him. Bucky is still gone. He wishes he didn't wake up.

Moving on, or trying to. He wants to, but he can't. Everything's different and he's not needed. What do you do with a soldier without a war? But war comes to him. And it's aliens, but he doesn't care. It's a fight, it's what Erskine created him for- to protect people. Getting on the plane, and there's an agent older than he is who wants him to sign his trading cards. Seventy years ago he would have been flattered, even happy. Now he's just confused. He's not worth the label hero. He couldn't even save the one person that truly mattered.

He has a team. It's a good team, after some work. But it's not his team. It's not the commandos. It's not Bucky. Bucky's gone and he has to make do with what he has. There's aliens in New York and a nuke headed their way. Howard's kid is older than him and flying around in a red metal suit. There's a scientist who turns into a raging green monster. An actual god trying to kill his own brother. It's like a bad play written by a middle-schooler with a thing for Norse mythology. Nothing makes sense. Bucky isn't here.

Winning. Bucky would be proud of him. Going out for dinner, after. Stark making some asinine comment about him being a virgin. Little do they know. But Bucky is gone, gone, gone, and none of that matters anymore. He doesn't correct him.

Runing missions for Fury. Moving to DC. DC is better. It's away from the memories. Bucky never went to DC. The Smithsonian gets an exhibit on him. Going to see it, and it's interesting, kind of funny. Texting Natasha with his reactions to things. Seeing it. The wall. Bucky's wall. Sitting down in front of it and crying for the first time in years. The security guard has to kick him out at the end of the night. He comes back the next day. And the next. They have videos of him and Bucky together. Bucky laughing. War propaganda. Pictures. Hundreds of images of Bucky's face. He still can't draw his eyes right.

Routine. Life. Day after day. He is empty. Going through the motions. He's a good actor, nobody knows. Bucky would know. But Bucky is gone. Natasha tries to set him up on dates. He doesn't go. He made a promise and he's never broken it. Until the end of the line. He doesn't want anyone to try to fill the hole inside him. The hole is Bucky-shaped, nothing else can fill it. The team tries. Sam tries. They're not successful. It's a patch job, a shoddy one, but it's the best he's ever going to get. And he does care about them. They're his team, his people. They make their own little family. Everyone a little broken in some way, but good together. Some days, he can even forget his soul is bleeding.

Ninety five, and there's an assassin after him, and SHIELD is Hydra and the world has gone insane. He's running, but really he's been running since the train and this is no different except now everyone is trying to kill him. He fights the assassin, and he's never seen him before, but he knows him. Their bodies move in sync. Fighting the Winter Soldier is like a dance, almost forgotten but his muscles remember. His eyes frighten him, and he doesn't understand it. He knows those eyes. The mask comes off. It's Bucky.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the soldier asks, and that patch job the team did on his hole rips right off. His soul is bleeding out and there's nothing he can do to stop it. He's in shock. Lets himself be captured. "I know him," he says, and Natasha and Sam think he's crazy. But it's Bucky. He can't mistake him. Bucky is alive, and he'll do anything to bring him back. On the way to the battle he takes out his sketchbook. He draws him. He gets the eyes right.

Being beaten, but he won't fight back. He won't hurt Bucky. Bucky almost kills him, but there, it's a flash, he remembers. He falls. Bucky jumps after him. Saves him. Then runs.

Dead leads. All there are are dead leads. Sam helps. Natasha helps. Even Tony helps. They don't really believe he can save him, but he knows his lover is still in there somewhere. Every Hydra base down is one step closer to Bucky. It's slow. Agonizingly slow. But it's something. They find the scepter, and that part of it is over. Hydra is down. All that is left is finding Bucky. But Tony fucks it up. Ultron. And the worst part is that he can't even be mad. Tony was trying to save them, save the world, in the only way he knows how. They go into battle on the ship. Ultron can't get the Vibranium. Whatever he's going to do with it, it'll be bad. Thor says the weird girl can mess with their minds. He tries to guard against her but…

It's 1945 and the war is over. He's at a party, a grand hall filled with people. Peggy comes to him, asks him to dance. He does, because he promised. The party is loud, joyful. They've won. It's over. Like Peggy says, they can all go home. The party ends. People leave in twos and threes, trickling out to go celebrate elsewhere. The hall is empty. No band, no dancers, just empty chairs at empty tables. "Hey Punk." He turns. "How about that dance?"

She pulls out. What she saw, what she made him see, it's… she doesn't have the words. "Steve, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He doesn't respond, so she steps back, looking up to see his face. His eyes are vacant, but he's smiling. She waves a hand in front of his face, but he doesn't even blink. She starts to get worried and reaches for his mind, only to encounter a wall. No matter what she does, what trick she tries, she can't get in. And he won't wake up. She wanted to make it better, instead she's made it worse. But she knows what might fix it all.

She finds him in Central Park, with Vision's help. He looks up when they touch down, eyes bright and curious. They scan over her, and then focus on Vision.

"James Barnes," Vision says, and he nods.

"I think so, anyway," he says.

"You are," she tells him, and Bucky stiffens at her accent. His eyes jump to her face, and he goes rigid. She sees he knows her. He should, after all, the Winter Soldier was one of Hydra's experiments too. She remembers him, when they brought him in for 'training'. He taught Pietro how to fight. She was never allowed to use her powers on him, and now she knows why. If she had, she might have awoken his memories, brought back Bucky Barnes. She should have tried. Another thing to add to the list of the times she has failed Steve.

"I know you," he says. "You're Hydra."

"Not anymore. I'm an Avenger now. You may have seen it on TV, when Steve introduced us as part of the team."

"Yeah?" He's suspicious, and she doesn't blame him. "What's your game? How long until you betray him?"

"I won't," she tells Bucky. "I was wrong to work for Hydra. I know better now."

"So… what? You've just turned good?" he asks, and she shrugs.

"Good is subjective. I am an Avenger, I do not know if that means that I am 'good'."

Bucky laughs, and she sees him relax. He's decided to trust her, or, well, not really 'trust' exactly, but he doesn't think she's there to kill him or bring him back to Hydra. "Alright then. What are you here for, then, if not to drag me back? Ex-Hydra employee meet up?" He grins at his own joke. It's not the smile from Steve's memories, but it's close. Good.

"Steve needs your help," she tells him, and that's all it takes to get his undivided attention.

"What do you need?"

"So, let me get this straight. You fought him, and gave him a dream of me coming back to him after the war. Which he then had to wake up from in order to save the world. Then you went back to try and fix it, only you made him remember the dream and now he won't wake up. Is that about the size of it?" Bucky is glaring at her. She feels his anger, but she deserves it. This is her fault. They're standing outside Steve's door, and she's scared. She doesn't know if this will work, but it's the best idea she has.

"Wanda has already apologized. Several times," Vision reminds him, and she smiles at him. Vision is sweet. And kind of adorable.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just… really?"

"You are correct. I looked into his mind to see what I had done, and if I could fix it. Instead, I gave him a dream in which you never died. He prefers this over a reality in which he doesn't have you."

"Fuck." Bucky sighs. "Alright. I get it. Let's see if I can snap him out of it." He opens the door. Steve is standing where she left him, in the middle of the room with a vacant smile on his face.

"Fuck. Steve…" Bucky breathes, and she feels his pain, the way his heart aches for his lover. He walks up to Steve and grabs him by the wrists, tugging until he stumbles forward to lean against him, still staring into space, seeing the dream she put in his mind.

"Steve, hey, Steve," Bucky shakes him. Nothing. "Come on Stevie, I'm here, I'm back. Wake up for me, alright?" There's a brief spike in Steve's mind, but it fades.

"Keep going," she says. "I can feel him. It's working."

"Come on, Punk, wake up," Bucky demands, letting go of one of Steve's wrists to shake him by the shoulders. "Wake up, sweetheart. I'm home."

"More," she urges. Steve's mind keeps reaching out, but then retreating behind that unbreakable wall. It's like… it's like he's afraid what he's hearing isn't real.

"Steve," Bucky calls again. He tries cajoling, ordering, and finally begging, but though each time she can feel Steve almost wake up, nothing seems to be enough. She doesn't know what else to do.

"Steve," Bucky says softly, when they've been at it for nearly an hour. "Come on. Wake up. Please? For me? I… I need you Stevie. I'd be lost without you." She can tell these words aren't for her ears. It's like he's forgotten she and Vision are even in the room. He leans in, stretching up, and closes the few inches between their mouths. The kiss is desperate, filled with all the aching emotions in his heart, and she wishes she couldn't feel what he feels because it hurts. At first, she doesn't think it's going to work. There's no response from Steve's mind. But then, tentatively, part of his awareness floats to the surface. And the wall shatters. He's kissing back. His hands go around Bucky's waist and he lifts him up and pulls him even closer. Bucky moans and wraps an arm around Steve's shoulders. The other hand goes in Steve's hair, holding him in place. Where there had been aching, awful, mind-breaking pain, suddenly there's joy. The emotions in the room hit her like a hammer blow and she stagers back into Vision, who holds her upright. She can't even name what this feeling is, but whatever it is it's wonderful. It's wonderful, and it's theirs. She takes a quick look at Steve's mind and blushes. That wasn't something she ever needed to see. But she also saw the fracture lines in his mind, and they are fading.

"Come," Vision says, an arm around her waist. "I believe it's time we leave them alone."

She agrees. She's done her best to fix what was broken. The rest is up to them.