I never thought I'd miss a cup of good coffee as badly as I did; the aroma wafted from the mug my best friend placed in front of me, calming my nerves slightly. My fingers curled around the circumference and I brought it to my lips. Needless to say, the taste was significantly better than the coffee I had two hours earlier.

"So he's like, your guardian angel?" Dianne asked, stirring sweetener in her own coffee.

"Angel isn't the word I would use."

She tapped the spoon lightly on the edge of the cup. Her head whipped towards my direction. "You should give him more credit. I've seen him in Captain America's exhibit. He isn't a murderer anymore, (y/n)."

I focused on the liquid in my mug. "Why can't anyone see my point? Regardless of the fact that he isn't anymore, he still used to be. And just like that I'm supposed to be okay with putting my life in his hands?"

Dianne eased herself into the seat across from me. "You don't have to be okay with it. But you asked for protection and Steve delivered. You don't get to choose at this point. Those people are gonna come for you and finish what they couldn't all those years ago. So you better start accepting the fact that Bucky Barnes is your means of protection."

I bit onto the edge of my cup, pushing aside her statements rather stubbornly. "That was harsh."

A sigh. "All I'm saying is, trust in Bucky as Steve did."

I leaned back in my seat. "I can't do that."

Frustration danced across her brown eyes. Not only were they glaring me down, but they sized me up to be more stubborn than I'd liked to have been. "Try."

Suddenly, the coffee didn't seem as calming. I could feel that familiar nausea creep into my stomach and turn everything upside down. I bit my nail. "How?"

I was trying so painfully hard to remove the stubborn child controlling my actions, even my thoughts. Dianne looked at me and pushed her lips forward. I could tell she had a thought waiting to escape, sliding dangerously close to the tip of her tongue.

Until she couldn't hold it in any longer. "Text him."

"What?" I instantly snapped to attention. "Absolutely not. Emergencies only, I told him that."

An exasperated moan escaped her lungs. "(Y/n), get the fuck over that fucking stubbornness and shoot him a god damn text. Tell him you're sorry for acting like a bitch. Send him a meme. I don't fucking care, just stop treating him like a criminal!"

"That's exactly what he fucking is! Why can't anyone see that?" My chest pressed against the edge of the table as I leaned forward. My best friend and I glared each other down and neither of us were planning on yielding.

"Your problem, (y/n), is that you're too fucking stubborn. You're so focused on his past that you can't see him in the present. Steve saw everything in him. You only see him as The Winter Soldier."

"Why are you defending someone you don't even know? You're my best friend."

"That's exactly right." Dianne stood from her chair and sauntered over to me. "And it's my job to smack some god damn sense into you. Get over yourself and apologize. Do something, and don't fucking get mad at me for something you and I have no control over. So you can either live with this, or keep shaming him for something that he had no control over. When you've made a decision, come and find me."

She walked away. I heard her footsteps escalate up the stairs and the slam of her bedroom door. The silence that followed nearly swallowed me whole; there was a hole beneath me and it was slowly opening. Dianne's words raced through my mind, that same drive to apologize nestling itself into my heart. I swiped my hands through my hair and brushed it back, contemplating my next move.

My hand slid into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. I let it rest against the table, taunting me. I couldn't bring myself to text him, everything in me told me I wasn't in the wrong. But James didn't deserve to be shamed for a past he was trying to escape, no matter how much I hated him for it.

My phone unlocked. I hovered my thumb over his contact and waited. I waited… for what? I pushed out a huff and clicked on his contact.

'I'm sorry that you can't grasp the fact that I hate you.'

I narrowed my eyes and deleted the line.

'I'm sorry you're a murderer.'

Again, I deleted the line.

'I'm sorry that you have a metal arm.'

I quickly became annoyed with myself. I deleted nearly every message I tried to type, each being surprisingly worse than the last. It was like I couldn't stomach the idea of apologizing for my actions.

Oh, yeah, I couldn't.

Finally, I forced myself to apologize maturely.

'I'm sorry for being rude to you.'

It was as good as it was going to get. I hit send and slapped the phone onto the table. I hoped he wouldn't reply, that way I wouldn't feel obligated to send him another message. But some other part of me hoped he would. A small little sliver I didn't have the mind to notice right then. Cockiness aside, I mustered up enough strength to walk up to Dianne's room and tell her I made a decision.

My knuckle rapped against the wood. "I made a decision."

"And?" Her voice called, clearly still angry with me.

"And I apologized."

There was a moment of silence before her door flung open. She stood draped in a blanket, observing everything I might have been hiding in my face. Those brown eyes searched my own and I quickly felt uncomfortable.

"You may enter." She said as she stepped aside to let me pass. I walked past her and planted myself on the bed. A slight wave of relief washed over me.

The news was quietly playing as background noise, an anchorwoman sitting formally in her seat. The screen switched to a podium that stood just outside of the Smithsonian; a middle aged man stepped out of the way and clapped for someone I couldn't see.

My eyes remained glued to the television. My heart rate quickened not by fear, but a pounding, overwhelming rage. It pulsed in my ears and pumped through my body, coursing through every vein. The remote sat on the bed beside me, and I slowly curled my fingers around it and turned the volume up. The change in volume got Dianne's attention, and her eyes went from me to the screen.

The sound was deafening.

"So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero.

Join me in welcoming your new Captain America."

The temperature in the room began to rise. I glared at the screen with a fiery intensity. My skin became hot, that storm raging. The new, false Captain America emerged from the doorway and waved. I couldn't feel the heat escaping, or notice the smell of singing fabric. My eyes were focused on the screen, until Dianne stepped into view.

I'd blocked out the world. Her palms pressed against my cheeks and she looked desperately into my eyes. Her mouth was moving, but I heard nothing. It slowly became clearer and clearer.

"(Y/n), (y/n) look at me. Can you hear me? You can't let go. Stay with me, stay here."

She looked terrified. I didn't understand why until I noticed how hot the room had become, and the cloth that steamed under my palms. Suddenly, it became very clear.

"(Y/n), control it. Control your rage. You can't release your power again."

I grabbed onto her wrists. "I'm calm, I promise."

I had come close to releasing the fire, and it would have obliterated everything around me. I stood from the bed and grasped onto Dianne's shoulders.

"We need to go see Sam. Right now."

In that moment of clarity, I felt a drive to wrangle Sam's neck for giving away Steve's shield. I hadn't seen Sam in a long time, but I couldn't ignore the fact that he gave it away.

Yet, I had no idea where Sam was. But I knew someone who might.