Bucky sat at the helm, not waiting until Jenny was in her seat before switching the levers on. Her stomach lurched as the ship rose straight up and she grabbed the back of the second pilot's seat. "Wait," she said. She pulled herself around the chair and strapped herself in. He punched in some coordinates, pulled a lever and the ship sped North East.

"Where's home?" she asked, gripping the arm rests.

"Brooklyn."

"Always?"

"Always. Different house, same neighborhood."

A vision of Bucky and Steve together as kids sprang to her mind, walking around the neighborhood in short pants and flat caps, reading novels and eating penny candy. It made her smile. But sitting here next to him, she felt so many things. She hated what happened to him; his life, his arm and Steve all ripped away. He'd accused her of being broken and fragile and she'd balked at the accusation. He wasn't wrong, but he was just as broken. She'd said they weren't good things to be. Now she knew it wasn't good or bad, just a circumstance of life, and not anything either of them could help. If she could, she would make sure those things had never happened to him. And yet, if they hadn't, he wouldn't be next to her. She wouldn't know the taste of him. The feel of his muscles moving under her hands and the sweetness of his gaze. She coveted those things for herself.

His leg bounced up and down nervously and his flesh hand white knuckled the levers. "Distract me," he said.

"How?"

"Ask me questions. Anything."

"Are you upset Steve didn't give you the shield?" It flowed out of her before she could stop it.

"No. Didn't want it. I wanted him to stay more than the job."

She swallowed dryly. "But he didn't."

Bucky gripped the lever tighter.

Jenny thought about punching Steve in the face. Why he would leave the man next to her alone after so long didn't make sense to her. If she had a piece of her past that she could hold onto she wouldn't let go. She thought of her sisters. So tight sometimes she didn't know where their brains separated. She'd give anything to keep them close now, even though they hated her.

"If you had the chance, would you go back in time?" she asked.

He was quiet for a while, and she didn't think he'd heard her. "At the end of the day you can only go forward," he said finally.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. You can only go forward."

"Something else," said Bucky. "Not about Steve… Tell me about you."

Jenny pursed her lips. She hadn't even opened up to Nicole. She took a deep breath and said the first thing on her mind. "I have sisters."

Bucky turned his head toward her. He nodded for her to keep going.

"I know I said I didn't," she continued, "but that's because they disowned me. I didn't fall in line with my family's version of the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"That my grandfather turned out to be reprehensible and I couldn't go along with the lie any longer." She waited for him to ask her what it was, but he moved back to her sisters.

"What are their names?"

"Ashley and Brittany."

"Ever try to contact them?"

"I gave up a long time ago."

"I'm sorry. I'd give anything to talk to my sister again."

"I wish you could," she said, longing to comfort him. Softly kiss his cheeks, cradle his head next to her breasts. "So," she said changing the subject. "Different house… But still Brooklyn?" she asked,

He bit his lip and rubbed his eyes. "I'm going tell you something. Not sure how you'll take it, but here goes…I'm… I'm loaded."

"What?"

"As a gag I invested some of my savings before I left for the front in Stark Industries."

Jenny blinked. "You… You invested in Stark Industries in 1942?" Jenny went lightheaded. She tried to calculate in her head. "You must… there must be…"

"A little over ten million left."

She stared at him and his brow creased under her scrutiny. "This is why I don't tell people. They tend to… act awkward. I can't give it away fast enough."

"I'm just processing is all. But wait, you could retire, buy a yacht, escape to a desert island. Better yet, you could help so many people. Fund programs, start outreaches. What do you mean give it away?"

"Remember that list you found in The Hobbit?"

Jenny's cheeks burned with embarrassment when she remembered sneaking into his room. How far she'd come since then. "Yes…"

"It's a list of all the people I've helped financially. I owe reparations. But I'm running out of beneficiaries. I need help to know what to do with the rest. I bought the house I always wanted on our block. That's all we need."

Somewhere deep inside, she felt disturbed and nervous. She knew the "we" he was referring to wasn't her. It sat ill in her stomach like a hot rock but she didn't know why. "I would say 'give it to the GRC' but well… We don't know about that yet do we?"

"So, you don't want it?"

"What? No. Please no."

"Why not? Aren't you tired of working for the GRC?"

"I'm more tired of what comes with wealth. Annoying frat boys, powerful men, obligations. I want to live a quiet life."

He lowered his head to lock her in a stare. The one that saw into her. The one that read her like a book. The blue of his eyes grew dark. "I don't buy it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really want to be quiet Jenny?"

She sat silently pondering his words, calling her out on all her lies she'd been telling herself to help soothe all her disappointments.

"Thank you," he said, breaking the quiet.

She swiveled her head. "For what?"

"Being here."

She reached over and ran the back of her fingers over his rough cheek. Despite the urgency in his eyes about going home, his lips curved into a little peaceful smile and he loosened his grip on the wheel.

He was quiet the rest of the way, which was about an hour and a half, and the smile left him completely. She desperately wanted to know what they were doing, but she let him be. She would know soon enough. The rock in her stomach got heavier, and the feeling she was walking into more than she had bargained for grew stronger. She wanted to be with him, she hadn't lied. But the growing unease in the cabin told her that this was monumental to him and it looked like it was threatening to consume him. But maybe if they were together she could ease his anxiety.

The ship lowered over New York finally, and she could see the statue of liberty in the distance. The Empire State Building, the Hudson River, Central Park. He turned on the cloaking device and they lowered down onto the roof of a line of Brownstones. He was out of the chair before the ship had powered down and grabbed their bags. She unbuckled her seatbelt and trailed behind him. He headed straight for the roof access and unlocked the door with a key, bounding down the steps. She followed, and soon they were on the top floor of the brownstone. She instantly felt like she was intruding.

The space was filled with original brick and dark wood doorframes. They were in a hallway with three bedrooms attached and he dropped her bag in front of one of them. She assumed that would be hers if they were staying.

Old photos covered the walls, but no Bucky and no one that looked like him. But there were modern updates too. A skylight had been added, and the light that poured in was golden and hazy from the afternoon sun. They headed down the stairs to the third floor, the second floor and finally the ground floor. On each one was a mix of old and new furniture, like an expert stylist had found just the right balance of his past and future but still, it didn't look lived in.

Bucky reached the closed pocket doors to the parlor with elaborate stained glass paneled windows. Red tulips and blue hydrangea. He turned around and took her arms in his hands.

"Before I open these doors," he said, "this information cannot leave this house. A life depends on it. That's how it's going to be. Do not even tell Sam."

"Why not Sam?"

"Swear." He grew deathly serious, and she nodded.

"I swear."

He searched her eyes and took a deep breath then pulled the doors open. "Jenny, I'd like you to meet my roommate."

Jenny followed him inside. Her gasp rocked her down to her toes. Sitting up in a hospital bed, though fast asleep with heart monitors and an IV drip, was a very elderly Steve Rogers.