"Couldn't sleep?"

He startled. It was not that Miranda had tried to conceal herself from him. It was simply that he had not noticed her as he had entered the training complex. Which never happened. Ever.

"My god!" She laughed. "Are you okay?"

Immediately, his already terrible mood slunk even lower into abysmal. He took great care to avoid where she stood among the weights and barbells. He had wanted to be alone, to sink below the surface of his grievous thoughts and drown in his sorrows.

"Alright," She dropped a weight to the ground at her feet. It thudded a protest. "I'll try not to step in your shitty attitude."

He opened the cabinet door with more force than he had intended and it banged open. He should have brought his head phones. He could have drowned out her inevitable comments. He pulled out the wraps for his hands. All he had to do was make it across the room before he used her for practice instead of the punching bag.

But then she was across the room, her presence hot and electric behind him. "No." She grabbed hold of his shoulder and wrenched him around. "You know what. Why don't you tell me why you hate me so damned much."

She shoved him hard, her words acid. "Is it because you come from a world where women were no better than servants? Arm candy meant to be seen, not heard? Yessir. No sir. Would you like more potato with your steak, darling?"

"You know nothing about the world that built me," He snarled back, giving no ground as she stepped closer.

"You were forged in a fire built by the greed of terrible men with horrible intentions." Her voice went deathly even, each word spoken with a slow intention. "But don't pretend for a second like you are the only one who has ever been burned."

Bucky lunged at her. He had always prided himself in his self control. Felt that even in those first few days after the helicarriers had fallen into the water, when he had been struggling to decipher a slew of surfacing memories, he had remained to some extent composed. But this woman...she made everything crumble. No matter how hard he worked to solidify the ground under his feet, she always sent everything into a tailspin.

His hands moved of their own accord, striking at her over and over. She ducked under his fists, moving out of his reach.

"You are pulling your punches."

He charged, swinging at her again and again. And again and again she deflected the blows, never allowing him a square hit.

"I've seen the footage," she taunted, dancing backwards on the balls of her feet, fists raised. "I saw a man who walked out of a government containment facility like it was a church on sunday. Who threw Captain American down an elevator shaft. Strangled Black Widow-"

"That wasn't me."

"Oh, it was you. It's a part of you that you are too scared to open the door on."

He charged her again but she was lightning quick. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once. It made him angry. She was just a woman. He was the Winter Soldier. She grasped his wrist, deflecting the blow past her body, and swung inside the perimeter of his arms. She drove her elbow hard into his chest. He staggered a step. The soft sole of her tennis shoe replaced the hard point of her elbow and she kicked hard against him.

He allowed himself to be pushed back another step, rubbing his palm against what would no doubt be a bruise in the next morning.

"You are the Winter fucking Soldier," She bit out. "Act like it."

He leveled a hard gaze on her as she circled him. He could feel his fingers flexing, aching to strike at her. To show her exactly what he could do.

She passed close to him, her shoulder inches from his. Her silver eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face. "What are you so afraid of?"

"That I might not be able to put it back in the cage."

"Why don't we find out?"

"In the middle of the night with no one to stop me?"

She put her hands on her hips, a devilish grin on her lips. "Barnes, are you concerned you might drag me into some dark corner and have your way with me?"

"Miranda." His tone was glacial. Can she never be serious?

Miranda strode over to the table where she had discarded her things. She pulled out a gun from beneath her sweater. "Will this make you feel better?"

"This is not worth my life."

Miranda laughed, checking to ensure there was a round in the chamber. "God. Does no one carry non-lethal rounds in the Avengers? Or do you always shoot to kill?"

Bucky quietly watched her pull a concealed carry holster from the pile and secure it around her waist. He pointedly looked away as she slipped it beneath the waistband of her athletic pants, clearly not caring what she might flash his way. Then she slipped the gun into its place at the small of her back and strode towards him, hands held out in question.

"What if I don't give you the chance to use that thing."

"I think," she rolled her shoulders, bouncing off the balls of her feet as she loosened up her muscles once more, "being underestimated is one of the biggest advantages you can have."

Bucky closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. If she wanted this, who was he to tell her no? Wiping that smug look of her face would be undeniably satisfying. And it had been so long since he had been able to move without holding back. To be able to embrace what he truly was, what he could really do...would be liberating. In a way he had not felt since coming back to himself.

He opened his eyes and focused wholly on her and everything around them fell away. He took in every inch of her body, accessing every bit of information he could grasp. How she leaned harder on her left foot. The anticipation in the set of her muscles. She would be fast. And she would be efficient. He had size on her, and she knew it, so she would use her agility to her advantage.

When their eyes met, her expression changed. She could see the shift in his decision. Her grin broadened as she made a sound of triumph.

And this time, she was the one to make the first move.

He ramped it up slowly, still hesitant despite her complaints that he was still holding back. But no matter what he threw at her, she was able to extricate herself.

Fighting with Miranda was like dancing. They settled into a rhythm. Each person taking turns leading their steps. Occasionally, she would get him off center enough to leverage him off his feet, or he would catch her arm and fling her. He had been horror struck at first, not entirely registering what he had done until she was airborne. But he had discovered that she was like a cat. No matter how she was thrown, her feet always found the floor first.

And then she was laughing. At first, he wasn't entirely sure what he was hearing over the sound of their exertion. She was winded and the sound was breathless. But that's what it was.

A laugh.

And then he found that he was smiling too.

Bucky lost track of the time they spent trying to better each other. It had become more than a show of brute force, but instead a practice of finesse. They exercised the mechanics of hand to hand combat, leaning on each other's weaknesses and forcing them to step out of their comfort zone.

He focused less on landing a blow, and more on catching her off balance. She was incredibly quick. He knew he had made contact with her body several times, but never with the full force of what he threw at her. She was always moving and eluding what he had intended for her.

It was easy to lose himself in this, to forget about what had driven him from his bed. The night was nothing but their ragged breaths. The tang of sweat. The sharp burn of his muscles. He had forgotten this part. The enjoyment he felt in pushing his body to its limits.

Finally, she made a mistake. It was a slight one and he almost didn't notice the fumble in her steps, but once he did, he knew he had her.

She did not go down easy or alone. They hit the mats in a tangle of limbs. She laughed, slipping from his hold again and again. She struck at him, his hands, his shoulders, his legs. They were not hard hits, but they were distracting and disorienting. She tried to roll away from him, but he brought his knee down on the other side of her hip, keeping her in place. He had one wrist pinned down to the mat. Her skin was warm and against his, her pulse beating hard against his palm. He drew his other hand back, winding up to strike, taking advantage of the moment that she realized he had trapped her. He could see the gears turning as she worked to resolve the setback.

Then he struck.

Unlike so any times before she did not roll away. His fist drove down toward her with more force than he had used in a long time and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Horror filled him like ice. He would crush her ribs. Drive his fist into her heart. Pulverize her lungs. But before any of this could happen, slim fingers wrapped around his fist and stopped it dead in its path.

They stayed like that for a moment, his metal fist gripped in her hands. There was a glorious smile on her face. Pure enjoyment. A stark contrast to the confusion and astonishment that he knew was plainly displayed on his features.

"Impossible," he breathed.

He could see the moment that what had happened registered on her face. The smile fell from her lips, shattering around them like glass. It had been so overbearingly present as they sparred, that in its sudden absence he realized it was the first full, true smile he had witnessed from her. Color leached from her skin until she was an unsettling color of grey.

She scrambled across the matted floor until she was out from beneath him. Bucky remained on his knees, sitting back on his heels as they stared at each other. Breathless.

One heartbeat. Then two.

She lifted a shaking hand to press it into her collar bone, her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath. Was there more to this girl than her history with SHIELD. What had she been before they had found her?

People aren't always what they seem.

"I..." she started, clearly unsure where the sentence might lead her.

"Yo!"

Both of them jolted at the sound of Sam's voice. He stood in the doorway, rubbing tired eyes. "We are getting reports of a disturbance down on 5th and Mercury. Suit up. Local PD is requesting we be first on the scene."

"Did they say what kind of disturbance?" Bucky asked, getting to his feet. He glanced back at Miranda, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"They lumped it under the 'supernatural' variety. So be prepared for anything."