I wrote this for fan_flashworks' #330 "Shadow" prompt. I wrote this after I had seen TFATWS 1x01, so it only has spoilers for that episode of the show.

You can decide if this is shippy or not. I really enjoyed writing this and want to write so much more about Bucky and Wanda. c:

Title is from Heart's "Alone".

til now, i always got by on my own

"I'm glad that you agreed to see me."

Wanda keeps her gaze away from Bucky, hands in her lap. The way she sits, he can only see her profile. She thinks that's more than enough. Bucky knows how to read the slope of a nose and the mere twitch of a cheek. She'll need to be careful.

The outdoor cafe is pretty with its large umbrellas that shield her from the sun. She wears a baseball cap of a muted mossy green. It clashes brilliantly with her orange hair. He dresses like a civilian. She thinks he's happier in it, less bogged down by the past and his metallic armour.

He shifts in his seat, scraping its metal foot against the ground. Wanda wonders if he feels at kin with it, the heaviness that the metal seat bears. His Vibranium arm remains quiet and still on the table.

"Even though you didn't answer my texts for four months and then eventually sent me to voicemail," he says, a small burst of uncertain amusement in his voice. Wanda still doesn't turn to look at him. He taps his non-metal fingers against the table nervously. "I deserved it. Sam would be proud of you."

She licks her lips, drumming her fingers against her lap out of his sight. To him, she is the perfect picture of a stone statue. She wonders if the sculptor had managed to capture the dark circles that should be sitting beneath her eyes. She's tired.

"I ignored Sam, too," she says quietly. Sparing him a shy glance, she turns away. Dropping her American accent, she continues, "Long before you."

She can hear him smile brightly, teeth shining in the sunlight. "Good," he says, nodding.

She doesn't try to pop the silence that settles between them. That's why she always liked Bucky. He was quiet when she needed it. He took up so much space, but he knew how to shrink himself down to make room for her.

He sighs. "You're probably wondering why I asked you to come here."

Wanda turns to face him, shaking her head. When she taps her fingers to the side of her temple, he smiles in understanding. "Right, mind reader. Didn't forget that about you."

She smiles, humming. Despite the reminder, Wanda remains outside of his head. It's his domain, a house she hasn't been invited into. She wonders if his nightmares look like her own.

Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she watches him from the corner of her eye. "You look good," she says. "With your short hair."

She thinks he blushes. "Thanks," he says. "Figured I needed a makeover."

"You did, desperately."

"Okay, okay," he says, grinning. His metal arm moves, hand pressing flat against the surface. He's gentle. The Vibranium is a part of him, a softer part that exposes how nervous he is sitting with her outside. He appears more comfortable in his skin than when she last saw him.

"I've… been going to therapy," he says. Licking his lips, he looks away from her. Wanda turns to face him now, not wanting to expose him to only half of her face. "And I have three rules to follow. I need to be honest and not hurt anyone."

"That's just two rules."

"Yeah," he says with a small smile, seemingly happy she's turned to face him properly now. "I suck at counting."

She gives him a small smile, letting it fade.

Shifting on his chair, he brings it forward. It doesn't scrape this time. It's almost like he's taken flight, becoming the Falcon who soars gently when he's usually the destroyer. "I wanted to make amends."

Wanda's brow furrows. "For what?"

"For not making an effort," he says. He looks up at her; she ducks her gaze, looking down at the wooden table. "I should've called you after. It's what Steve would've done. It's what we all should've done. I heard about Westview—"

She inhales sharply. Quietly, she says, "I didn't mean to hurt those people."

"I didn't come here to lecture you," he says, pressing his other hand against the table. He leans closer to her, eyes pinning her in place. Wanda's face heats up as she keeps it bowed, lifting her own hand to try and busy herself with scratching at the chipped wood.

Bucky sighs. "I came here to tell you I understand. I get it. Pain… pain can make you do some fucked up things. And what happened in Westview… Wanda, no one's going to blame you for it."

Wanda shakes her head, peering up at him. He blurs in her vision. "Those people do."

"They do," he says with a nod. "And they will for a long time. Being thrown into a different reality is some difficult shit," he says. "You're going to have to live with that. But you also need to make amends, too."

"I have tried to stay away—"

"No, no," he says, flattening his palms against the table. Wanda focuses on the intricate metal details of his arm instead of his bright face. "With yourself. Wanda, I know you. Maybe not well, and that's my fault. You didn't know me and you helped me in Germany. You were on my side even when I didn't give you a reason to choose it."

Wanda looks up at him, inhaling too deeply and exhaling too shallowly. He doesn't point it out. Bucky never does. "You tried to comfort me at Tony's funeral because I was there for…" He presses his lips together and shakes his head, swallowing hard. His grief is loud in his ears. Wanda tries to pull it away from him, not letting it swarm his head. He gives her a small smile. "Thank you."

"You were upset," she says.

"So were you. You lost Vision. Three times now," he says, shaking his head. Her body tenses. His gaze ducks down to her throat as she tugs in a breath harshly. "You lost your brother. He sounds like a cool guy."

"He would have liked you," she says quietly.

"And I think I would've liked him," he says, giving her a small smile.

Wanda licks her lips, looking away from him. "I can't… I can't forgive myself for letting any of them die."

"I know," he says with a small nod. "I get it. Trust me. I'm in goddamn therapy for it. Having someone tell me that I have problems and I have to face them and holding me accountable is fucking hard, Wanda. I'm not here to be your therapist."

"Then what are you?" she asks, tilting her head to the side as she peers at him. "You don't need to be here, Bucky. I don't need you to be Steve."

"I don't want to be. No one can be as righteous and good as he is," he says with a fond smile. He glances down and swallows thickly, either uncomfortable at the mention of his departed friend or at the situation at hand. When he looks up at her, his gaze is earnest. "I want to be your friend, if you'll be okay with that."

Wanda leans back in her chair. She hadn't been expecting that. A little lecture on behalf of the Avengers would be well-earned. His offer isn't. Looking down, she finds her fingers grip her jeans tightly. Her fingers glow red.

"Show me," he says quietly, gaze dropping to the edge of the table in front of me. "I want to see it."

Hesitantly, she lifts her hands to place them gently on the table. The wood glows red.

Reaching out his metal hand, he places it gently on top of hers. The metal glows a warm red like a hearth. He doesn't scream out in pain; his fingers slowly curl around her hand. "See?" he says. He smiles at her happily. Wanda inhales too sharply, looking up at him in panic. "Not so scary."

After a moment, she takes control of her breathing. In, hold, out. The red continues to glow, brightening and spreading along his arm.

"No," she says, placing her other hand on top of his metal one. "Not at all."

notes.

You can find me at Tumblr, username finnicks.