The heat had been turned up to its maximum level in the gym to simulate a hot-weather combat scenario. Vision, the only team member this wouldn't have bothered, was in New York at Avengers' Tower for a series of scans on the mindstone, scrupulously overseen by Dr. Cho and a team of researchers to ensure Tony Stark didn't get any ideas. Wanda had grown more ambivalent about the idea with the passage of time; Ultron had destroyed her country and murdered her brother, but he had also created a being she considered one of her closest friends. Okay, maybe one didn't make up for the others, but things couldn't be changed at this point, and it helped her understand a part of Steve's desperation to bring Bucky back to himself.

So far, the idea seemed to be working. Bucky was spending more time with the team, more time outside of HQ (if two more successful trips to McDonald's counted), and more time as himself. He was currently in full gear, sparring good naturedly with Steve, who was clearly pulling his punches. They were both smiling.

Wanda wasn't smiling. That seemed like too much effort. She wasn't sure why they would be in full kits in this kind of weather, but she was glad to see she wasn't the only one dripping sweat. They had gone from calisthenics to sprints to sparring in pairs. She made a move to slip out of her leather jacket as Rhodey, wearing sweats in lieu of his climate-controlled armor, turned away to take a long drink of water, only to be shouted at when he turned back, "Keep it on Maximoff!"

"Bet you're the first dude to ever shout that!" Sam countered from his supine position on the mat where Natasha had tossed him a few seconds before. He wasn't wearing his wingpack, but his body armor was heavy enough that he'd been allowed to leave his arms uncovered.

No such luck for his sparring partner, who was getting crankier by the minute in her catsuit. Natasha lowered the zipper another half-inch. "Are we almost done with this bullshit?"

"Language!" echoed around the gym from three comparatively merry voices and a stern one.

"It's important for us to test our stamina under all conditions." Steve paused his bout with Bucky and looked at her pointedly. His eyes widened almost to the full extent his helmet allowed. "And raise that zipper!"

Wanda worried for a moment that Natasha was going to do the exact opposite as she stared Steve down with her fingers on the pull tab, but she yanked it up almost to her neck. "Sir, yes, sir."

"Natasha…" Wanda had reached the point where she really only noticed Steve and Natasha's glow together when it changed; right now, Steve's was reaching out with little tendrils of light toward Natasha and her posture was relaxing.

Suddenly, she forgot all about how romantic she the scene was as Bucky knocked Steve down with high kick to the chest. "She's so right. It's too hot in here." His voice was lower, more gravelly than usual. "Way. Too. Hot." No one moved as the Winter Soldier sauntered toward Natasha. "Of course, the temperature's not the only thing in here that's way too hot."

Natasha stiffened. Her command came in Russian, "Stand down, soldier."

"Not ready to comply." He grabbed her shoulders roughly and jammed his lips against hers. Seconds later, he was in the fetal position, whimpering on the floor.

She stumbled slightly as she stepped backward. "Bucky?"

"Yeah," he squeaked, "'m'back."

Steve either didn't hear or didn't care, charging past in a red hot blur of rage. He was gripping Bucky by the collar of his shirt, dragging him into the air. "If you ever touch her…"

"Steve!" Natasha grabbed his arm as he started to shake the now moaning Bucky. "Steve, it's over!" Her light was now searching out his, turning it back to white from angry red. "He had a bad moment, but it's over now. You can put him down."

He slowly lowered his arms until Bucky's feet touched the floor. When he let go, Bucky immediately dropped and curled up again. "Buck, I…" He looked toward Natasha. "I…are you…?"

"I'm fine, Steve." She gently unbuckled the chinstrap of his helmet and pulled it off his head, a shower of sweat droplets misting the air around him as she did so. The helmet dropped from her hand as she pulled him in for a soft kiss. The strangely normal moment (a thought flashed through Wanda's mind that it might be odd to consider superheroes kissing as a sign of normalcy) propelled everyone out of their paralysis. Sam offered Bucky a bottle of water while Rhodey called for medical assistance. Wanda was at a loss as to what she should do. She ended up watching Steve and Natasha whisper to each other in their cocoon of white light as a stretcher came to bring Bucky to the infirmary.


Hours and a long shower later, Wanda sat in the lounge, wondering how sharks could be so fascinating that they merited not only a documentary, but a week's worth of programming that she couldn't turn off, no matter how much she told herself she wanted to. Even Vision had declared his fill after the fourth day, though the point was currently moot with him in New York. Wanda had to admit that even though the Discovery Channel was informative, it was far less entertaining than sitting through Jaws with her teammates. None of that changed her inability to change the channel. Although she couldn't imagine when she'd need to know about the hammerhead's enhanced electroreceptory system, she found it more riveting than necessary.

She was so absorbed in the program she didn't realize she was no longer alone until a shuffling step was audible right behind the couch. Her reflexes had obviously improved with the months of training, because she wasn't aware of rising and spinning until she was on her feet, ready to defend herself from…

Her vastly improved reflexes proved powerless to prevent her from laughing at the sight of Bucky in a t-shirt over a hospital johnnie that bunched oddly around the hips and revealed his bare legs down to his bright yellow socks, wincing and moving like an elderly arthritic Quasimodo. She immediately lowered her hands, dispersing the energy she had been preparing to unleash. "That…you…" She tried to stifle another laugh.

"No, no. Let it out." He sank into one of the soft chairs with a groan. It was hard to remember the menace of the Winter Soldier's earlier appearance as Bucky shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position without much success.

"I see you are still in pain."

"That's one way to put it. Another is that the Doc has me wearing a fancy ice-diaper to control the swelling."

"That is…"

"Better than I deserve?"

"I was not going to say that."

"Yeah, I figured. No one is saying it, but they're sure as hell all thinking it." He sighed. "Everyone but Steve. Stupid punk actually apologized to me for losing his temper. At least he didn't lie and tell me Natasha was sorry, too."

"I suppose it's no comfort that she has a nasty bruise just above her knee."

He gave a single bark of laughter. "She smashed my balls so hard she hurt herself? Well, I'm surprised Steve apologized at all."

Wanda laughed along with him. He was surprisingly easygoing when he was in his right mind, which was increasingly common. It wasn't hard to understand why Steve wanted his old friend back or why they all found setbacks like the one today so upsetting. "Are you really okay? No permanent damage?"

"Not from what they can tell right now, but I guess they won't be able to tell for sure until the swelling goes down. It'd be mostly an ego thing if there were. No kids in my future."

She nodded. "You are doing better, anyway. Mentally, I mean."

"Thanks. Still, you can only come back so far." He seemed to settle into his seat. Wanda tried to refocus on the fine details of bioelectric fields as he asked, "Did she tell you about the first time we, uh, met? Natasha, I mean."

"No. I gathered that you shot her on several occasions, but…" she trailed off. She had been present for one of those wounds and heard about another from Sam, but the other was a mystery to her.

There was a long pause. Bucky eventually said, "I think you should talk to her. Get the whole story."

"What else is there?"

"It's…I need Steve to understand how dangerous I am, and I don't think Natasha is telling him everything. She's protecting him. But he needs to know." He was silent until one shark documentary turned into another. "You're, uh, like, psychic, right?"

Wanda was caught off-guard. "I…I have some abilities, yes."

"Can you…look, I know Natasha isn't gonna tell Steve the whole story because she's trying to make him happy, but if you can explain it to him…I just…someone has to know the truth and tell him about what happened. Might as well be you."

She hesitated. Her earlier experiences with Steve and Natasha had given her plenty of practice listening in on people's thoughts and she had used her powers to pull the negativity to the surface of the Avengers' minds while working for Ultron, but she had never experienced another person's memory with their full consent. It was too tempting an opportunity to pass up, despite her misgivings. "You are sure?"

"Yeah." He nodded, watching her carefully as she moved to the arm of his chair. "So, should I just think about that day or…?"

"Just focus on the memory." She placed her fingertips on his temples. "Bring the memory to…"

Wanda was abruptly no longer in her own mind. It was warm, dusty. The Winter Soldier was watching a nondescript jeep speed along the road above the Black Sea through a sniper's scope, the image sharpened by his ruby-tinted goggles. The target had been under observation since making enemy contact, through the border crossing at Parsabad from Iran into Azerbaijan, then into Georgia, Russia and now the Ukraine. He had been following personally for two days, observing the terrain and waiting for the best spot to eliminate his target. The road east of Odessa had presented the best option, a high cliff overlooking a desolate road that skirted farmland adjacent to the northern shore of the sea.

The jeep approached the hairpin turn he had selected. He squeezed the trigger three times, leading it as passed through his sights and watching with no small satisfaction as the vehicle fishtailed on two flat tires, careening in one direction, then another before plunging over the edge of the cliff toward the sea. He shouldered his weapon. He had to check the crash site to ensure there had been no survivors, but there was no rush as picked his way down the hillside back to his motorcycle.

When he arrived at the crash, he pulled right up to where the tire tracks went off the cliff. The jeep was smoking on a ledge about a hundred meters down. Lifting his goggles off his eyes, he squinted down at the vehicle. The doors could have burst open on impact, but there was something off. He shut off the rumbling motorcycle engine and immediately heard whimpering in Farsi, shushed by a competent but accented voice. He had been warned about the target's escort, a former KGB asset now in the employ of SHIELD. Directing his attention toward the sound, he raised his weapon.

A small depression along the embankment revealed a goat path to the sometimes brackish water below. A woman momentarily appeared over the edge, dragging a man in spite of her obvious injuries. She tried to draw a pistol from her thigh holster while covering the target simultaneously as she saw him, but her left arm was broken in several places, at least two showing as unexpected joints under her leather jacket. She somehow found another gun with her right hand, but he had already fired. The bullet passed directly through her body into the head of his target.

He walked slowly toward the two bodies now collapsed on the ground, ready for retaliation that never came. As he approached, he realized that the enemy agent had been injured badly enough in the crash not to present a threat to him. He catalogued at least seven bleeding wounds on her body as he gripped her throat in his metal hand and lifted her up. For a moment, lust clouded his thoughts; it would be so satisfying to satiate his lust on a woman not provided by his handlers. His desire was only strengthened when she kicked weakly at him, toe of her boot striking his thigh. He considered her as she struggled in his grasp. In addition to the broken arm, she had rib injuries and probably internal bleeding. He could have her here and barely compromise his mission timing.

The engineer suddenly twitched. He tossed the SHIELD agent aside without another thought and moved toward his target. Although he was sure the twitching had been involuntary, he fired three more rounds into the man's head. There was a crackle in his earbud requesting confirmation of the kill. No time for the agent now. He glanced at her, struggling to find a weapon in the middle of the road as he walked away. He revved his motorcycle in the hot silence. He didn't look back as he rounded the sharp corner.

Wanda's eyes were wide and her mouth agape as he, the Winter Soldier, Bucky gently pulled her hands away from his head. "So now you know. Could you forgive that?"

"I…you…." She stood slowly, trying to regulate her movements as she left the lounge, but she found herself running down the hallway a moment later. Natasha caught her as fell into Steve's quarters after demanding entry with the intercom and her fists. "He…you…"

"Shhh, Gummi Bear. It's okay."

"He…he wanted you dead."

She felt Natasha leading her to a seat on the bed as she shooed Steve out. "He wouldn't be the first guy."

"Outside Odessa…he told me…"

"It doesn't matter. It's over."

"No, he wanted me to tell Steve…where's Steve?"

"If Bucky wants to tell Steve, he can do it himself. You shouldn't have to be a surrogate."

Wanda sniffled. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about Steve and me. We got past my shit to get together. You really think a little thing like a brainwashed best friend is gonna come between us?"

"No." She rubbed her wrist against her eyes. "But what about Bucky?"

"We keep moving forward. He keeps getting better until he can leave the Winter Soldier behind." Wanda leaned into Natasha as she spoke, "We all have to leave the past behind and take the best parts of ourselves forward. Some of us are just going to have to work harder." Although she was stroking Wanda's hair, Wanda felt like Natasha was referring to herself in the last sentiment. It was so much easier to accept comfort after the memory she had experienced. She didn't want to think about what Natasha had gone through on the road outside Odessa.