A/N: Skylar Winchester, you're still the best. ;)

The following morning, Kim's hands gripped the steering wheel of her car as she drove further into downtown D.C. Originally, she'd been tempted to stay home in order to spend more time with Bucky, but the rational side of her advised against it. She had other obligations that required her attention—especially her physical therapy sessions—and a sudden change in her routine would not be the wisest move to make. Not unless she wanted to start raising the suspicions of those closest to her. At the very least, those involved with Iron Wings were aware of Rebecca Proctor's deteriorating health, and the fact that Aunt Laura had been too ill to visit over the weekend gave Kim a solid alibi for her recent absences.

Being an amputee hadn't held her back from getting her driver's license two years ago, which she saw as an important teenage rite of passage. Kim refused to let such an opportunity pass her by, and her grandmother wouldn't have had it any other way. Thankfully, amputees could legally drive if vehicular modifications were applied for their handicaps. In Kim's case, that meant an accelerator pedal on the left side of the floor instead of the right.

The car she was currently driving had actually been a gift from Stark, one that had been specially modified for her to use after earning her license. Not only was there an accelerator on the left, but also one on the right side, which allowed her to develop her driving skills with both legs. This meant another chance to implement her prosthetic into even more of her daily activities, as well as assist Stark with making further improvements to his future models. Add to that the fact that Stark covered any insurance payments and repairs for the vehicle, and Kim had even more reason to be eternally grateful to the brilliant man. How many people in this world got to see such a generous side of him? She really was damned lucky.

If only gratitude could be the one emotion filling her heart right now. Her hands tightened on the wheel. Though her eyes remained focused on the road ahead, her mind hardly registered the various businesses, government buildings, apartment complexes, and homes that passed on either side. Her thoughts were very much elsewhere, very much preoccupied with other matters.

Preoccupied with thoughts about Bucky, and wherever he was now.

Coming to a stop at another traffic light, she released a sigh. Driving helped to distract her thoughts for a time, but once again, the ensuing pause caused her mind to replay the rough interlude between her and Bucky earlier that day.

Kim couldn't help but smile. She'd half-expected to come downstairs and find Bucky already up and wandering around, perhaps exploring parts of the house he hadn't yet seen, or gazing at family photographs on the walls.

And yet, here he was, still sleeping on the couch, still in the very spot where she'd left him. She'd retired to her own room sometime after ten the previous night, and Bucky had sworn that she would see him again when the sun rose. His exact words. Such a promise had filled her with peace, and knowing he would be just downstairs made the house feel safer than it had in a very long time.

She tilted her head as she continued to stare at him. Somehow, he'd fallen asleep while sitting up, his head hanging forward in a manner that obscured her view of his face. Man, he must have been exhausted to fall asleep in that position. Was that really comfortable for him? But something about his posture told her that he'd done this many times before. Despite any possible discomfort, she had to admit: this was the most tranquil she'd seen him up to this point. Something about seeing him in the daylight made him seem less sinister, and she secretly hoped that as time progressed, this could become more of a norm for him.

Her smile remained. She hated the idea of waking him, but knew she had to. Jen was due to arrive in less than half an hour, and she didn't want to run the risk of him being discovered. Jen might perceive him as a dangerous intruder—or might even recognize him from HYDRA's leaked files—and Kim couldn't let that happen.

Bucky will understand, she thought, reaching out to give him a gentle shake—

The next few seconds seemed to happen in an absolute blur. Her fingertips had barely grazed his shoulder when he suddenly snapped wide awake, releasing a fierce growl as he roughly seized her arm with his right hand. Kim could only manage a terrified gasp at the pain that shot through her arm, but then fell dead silent when she felt a coolness press against her exposed throat. Time slowed to a crawl as her eyes went wide, her stomach instantly dropping. She knew that while his right hand gripped her arm, his bionic hand was holding a dagger against her neck; she'd been observant enough on that first night to see it hanging from the sheath on his utility belt. Her heart was pounding fearfully in her chest. It was a weapon that, no doubt, had been used to kill before, and now he was threatening to use it…on her.

Oh God…oh God…

Even though she was terrified beyond rational thought, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his, and could only await his next move as she stared into the depths of those untamed blue-grey orbs.

But then something completely changed in them, like a lightning-flash of recognition as soon as his mind registered who she was. Then an expression of ultimate horror overcame his features, and the bionic hand pulled the dagger from her throat completely and flung it away. Spitting out what must have been a Russian curse, Bucky abruptly stood to his full height and took her face between both hands, going completely still as he held her firmly. If Kim could have gasped, she would have, but the ability to simply breathe had momentarily fled.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kim," his voice was a strained whisper. "I'm sorry."

She was too stunned to even blink, let alone verbally accept his apology. Slowly, she became aware of the incessant trembling of her body, as well as the gentle pressure of his hands on her face. That was the operative word: gentle. Only seconds ago, those hands had been fully capable of—and ready to—slit her jugular vein, but now they held onto her in an almost desperate manner. His right hand was warm; the left was as cold as the blade he'd pressed to her neck. Despite the striking contrast, both of them were carefully cupping her cheeks in a quiet demonstration of his regret, his face slowly lowering until his forehead nearly touched hers.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his eyes tightly squeezed shut. "I'm sorry…"

The tips of his long hair were tickling her face. Feeling her chest jump from lack of air, she finally pulled some much-needed oxygen into her lungs before exhaling shakily. Breathe, she reminded herself and swallowed hard. Breathe.

"I'm sorry."

Breathe…She listened as he continued to speak, the concern in his tone completely filling her ears and striking her heart. But there was something else she was slowly becoming aware of: the underlying sense of fear emanating from him. She felt it in his touch, heard it in his voice…he was just as afraid of what had taken place as she was.

God, Bucky…

Soon, it didn't matter that warm and cold were cradling either side of her face. The more she focused on the fact that it was his touch, the more of a unified comfort it became.

Swallowing a little less nervously, she brought her trembling hands to his wrists, wrapping her fingers around metal and flesh. At her touch, his hands pressed tighter against her face, but only briefly, and he never went so far as to truly inflict pain. Then his grip relaxed when he released a shaky breath of his own.

All the while, Kim maintained her grasp on him, feeling quite small as he hovered over her, but also feeling strong sense of protection emitting from him at the same time. "Shhhhhh," she soothed, not really sure what else to say. "Shhh…"

His eyes were still closed. "I'm sorry…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she persisted, keeping her tone low and even. As she spoke, she realized she was no longer shaking, but could now feel the tremors rocking his own hands. It was almost funny to think about how their roles had been reversed. "It's okay."

He started to say something more, but the words died in his throat. Gently squeezing his wrists, Kim tried to convey as much reassurance to him as possible. All too soon, though, she could tangibly detect the heartbreaking sensation of his aura withdrawing from her.

Pulling back at the same time, they locked eyes, Kim seeing those troubled pools stare sorrowfully into hers. She wasn't backing down from his gaze, nor was she shying away.

"Bucky?"

His lower lip quivered, but he still said nothing, eyes continuing to bore into hers as they silently conveyed his fathomless regret. He hesitated a moment longer, and then Kim felt his hands slip away from her face, the skin of her cheeks strangely cool now that his palms were gone. Clenching his jaw, he turned stiffly and walked away.

Kim gave a start at his movements. "Bucky, wait—"

He didn't.

An acute panic began to well within her. Lunging after him, she managed to close the gap between them as she reached for him. "Sergeant!"

It wasn't until her hand landed on the solid bicep of his right arm that he came to a complete stop. He waited. Silently. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, but the angle of his head told her that she had his attention.

Kim's eyes saddened. In her gut, she knew nothing she said would convince him to stay right now. That last look in his eyes exhibited the trauma he felt after what he'd nearly done, and it was clear he just needed to get away. From her. From Rebecca. From anyone he didn't wish to cause harm.

Had similar thoughts plagued him after what he did to Steve?

She bit down on her lip as premature tears pricked behind her eyes, and all she could think of to say was, "Please come back to me." It came out as a whisper.

He said nothing, but lingered for several more silent seconds. Then he walked away, never once looking back as Kim's fingers slid smoothly from his arm. He headed straight through the doorway leading to the dining room until he disappeared from sight, and Kim just watched him go. From the kitchen, she heard his fading footsteps, the familiar sound of the sliding door as it opened and closed, and then there was nothing.

Kim felt hot lines of quiet tears fall down her face, and she didn't bother wiping them away. Come back to me, Bucky, she thought sadly, still staring in the direction he'd gone. She dug her fingernails into her palm as a fresh round of tears spilled from her eyes. I don't care how long it takes. Just come back to me…

A blast from the car horn behind her startled Kim out of thought, and she realized the traffic light had already turned green. She blinked, then gave her head a brief shake.

Right; sorry.

Easing her foot back onto the gas, she propelled the car forward once more, and a long, slow breath passed through her lips.

"You seem a bit distracted today, Miss Proctor," a voice with a British accent seemed to come out of nowhere, but it didn't startle Kim. "That was the second time a driver had to prompt you at an intersection this morning. Are you alright?"

Back when she was sixteen, that took some getting used to, but anymore, that voice had become as familiar as Steve's. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine, JARVIS."

"Do you require any assistance with your acceleration?"

Even though a great deal was weighing on her mind, his interruption seemed to lighten her heart, even if only temporarily. Leave it to Stark to link his personal AI system to the car he'd modified for her. When he wasn't around to keep an eye on her, JARVIS could monitor her every so often. "Naw, I've got it. Just thinking."

"Thoughts regarding your grandmother's condition?"

She could almost hear the genuine concern in his computerized voice. Sometimes, the descriptor "artificial" didn't seem right for him. "That's…definitely part of it."

"There is something else, then?"

She gave a short wave, even though he wouldn't see it. "Just personal stuff. Not really anything I want to go into detail about."

"Understood. Ah, and Miss Proctor, incoming message from Mr. Stark."

"Yeah? What's he say?"

"While I would choose to put it more eloquently, the message states, 'Your ass had better be ready to work today, kiddo.'"

That finally got a smile out of her, though it was fleeting. "Tell him I said, 'Yes, sir.'"

"I shall relay the response immediately. Judging by your current speed, you will be arriving with time to spare before your scheduled appointment at ten o'clock. If there's anything else you require, please be sure to let me know."

It was like having an invisible butler in her car. "Actually, JARVIS? Do you mind taking over for the rest of the drive? Nothing to do with my leg, I just…I need a little quiet time before I get there."

"Of course, Miss. I will be sure to log the miles you have driven, which will be complied into your weekly report for Mr. Stark."

"Sounds good. Thanks, JARVIS."

A brief chime indicated that he'd activated the vehicle's automatic navigation system, so Kim let her hands slide from the wheel, which occasionally moved back and forth of its own volition, and removed her foot from the gas. The coordinates for the Candleman Center were already pre-programmed into JARVIS' memory bank, and he would safely take her the rest of the way. Stark's version of a smart car truly had no equal.

With the absence of JARVIS' voice, the interior of the car was quiet once again, and Kim's thoughts inevitably returned to Bucky. It was difficult not to dwell on the darkness she'd seen in his eyes, and to say she hadn't been scared senseless by his actions would have been a bold-faced lie. She'd been downright terrified, and it ripped her heart in two just thinking about what he'd nearly done. The fact that he…that the Winter Soldier could have killed her should have been prominent in her mind, but…

His eyes. When she'd looked into them, malice hadn't been the only thing she'd seen; there'd also been shame. Pure, undeniable shame. He didn't want hurt her, and managed to stop himself before anything could happen.

That's just it, though, isn't it? She pondered to herself. He hasn't really been Bucky Barnes since 1944; HYDRA forced the Winter Soldier to take his place, and that's not an identity he can just get rid of. This is who he's been for the last seventy years. It's no damn wonder he feels so screwed up from time to time. But when he grabbed you, he saw you. He knew you. Whatever the Winter Soldier was planning to do, Bucky managed to break through and keep you safe.

Family is a haven in a heartless world.

Her heart skipped a beat. Those words. She remembered them very well, remembered how adamant he'd sounded when he spoke them to her. Yes, she'd been afraid of him, but…

You are family, Kim, and I came to protect my family.

Protect me, she thought as she chewed on her lower lip. Protect his niece. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she rubbed gently at one of her temples, hoping the sensation would somehow ease the worries running through her mind.

Bucky, it wasn't your fault…

Before she knew it, JARVIS was announcing, "We have arrived at your destination."

Kim looked up and, sure enough, was gazing out her windshield at the two-story brick structure known as the WINSTEN P. CANDLEMAN CENTER.

Huh. That was quick, she thought to herself. The facility was located down the road from one of the main hospitals in D.C., and was utilized by a multitude of patients nearly every day of the week. In fact, the very hospital it neighbored was where Steve had recuperated back in April. Thanks to the effects of his super-soldier serum, he hadn't required any physical therapy after the fact, but that didn't stop him from visiting Kim when he knew she had appointments there.

Looking hindsight, she now understood why he'd seemed rather distant during those visits: thoughts of Bucky had been weighing heavily on his mind…

But she shook the memory away for the time being. She had to. "I still don't know whether I should be impressed that your parking skills are so much better than mine," she unbuckled her seat belt, "or if I should hate your guts for it."

"Seeing how I lack the guts you refer to, perhaps the former would be the best option out of the two."

That got her smirking. "See, it's when you say shit like that that makes me wonder if you really were related to Mr. Stark in a past life."

"I can assure you that the possibility of any genetic link between Mr. Stark and I is non-existent."

She gave a laugh, shaking her head. "Whatever; you're awesome, JARVIS," she said, grabbing her duffel bag from the passenger's seat. "Thanks for the ride."

"Have a productive session, Miss Proctor."

Switching off the ignition, she paused and took a long, deep breath, mentally prepping herself to face those she hadn't seen since Bucky had made his first appearance. You can do this; you need to do this, she told herself. Even if nothing had happened this morning, you would have come here anyway, and you need to let everyone know that you're okay. Just get yourself through today. You may be concerned about where Bucky is, but you sure as hell know that if he needs to, he can take care of himself. You have to believe that he'll come back eventually. He has to.

Besides, Grandma wouldn't approve of you intentionally missing anymore of your appointments.

That last mention stung her heart far more than she anticipated it would, and was all the incentive she needed to finally get out of the car.

"Hey, Kim! Good to see you."

"Morning, Kim."

"Hey, look who made it!"

The automatic doors had barely hissed to a close behind her when a barrage of salutations came Kim's way. Though she reminded herself to act naturally, her smiles were hardly forced as she greeted the familiar faces of those she saw on a regular basis, those that had become a different kind of family to her away from home.

Volunteers and a few of her friends from Iron Wings had sessions of their own today, and one or two vacated their weight machines in order to give her quick hugs.

A couple of their physical therapists and other staff members accompanied their clients as they welcomed her back, some quietly inquiring about her grandmother's health.

Even a wheelchair-bound corporal from the U.S. army—a new patient here—wheeled himself over to shake her hand for the first time, which she gladly reciprocated. This surprised no one. Kim was always pleased to meet those who defended her country, and she didn't have to think twice about why.

Ever since becoming involved with the establishment of Iron Wings, hers had become one of the most recognized faces in the entire program, second only to Tony Stark. Admittedly, the attention was something she'd never really gotten used to. It was strange to go from an unknown teenager to someone who'd essentially become a household name in certain circles of the medical community. Three years later, her story continued to resonate with countless others across the globe, many of whom were in situations similar to her own. Never a day went by when her e-mail inbox and blog threads weren't flooded with inspirational stories from other amputees, and messages of support from all kinds of followers. Unknown to the world no more…and not as alone as she once feared she was.

Most of her communications with these individuals were limited to online interactions, but when it came to her days at the Candleman Center, it didn't occur to her to mind being personable with anyone, even those who simply approached her to say "hi." Some might have believed that she felt obligated as a representative of Iron Wings to make herself accessible here, and while she did feel a certain sense of duty in her role, she saw it as more of a privilege than anything else. These were people from various backgrounds embarking on journeys of their own, and to be a part of that process was incredibly rewarding for her heart.

Of course, one of the best examples of this was—

"Hey, Miss Proctor! You're here!"

The joyful yell that rang out loudly and clearly caused a calm smile to spread across Kim's features, and she had to suppress a reflexive urge to call out "Inside voice!" in response. Looking past the colonel, she saw Sammy Glenn—donning an Avengers t-shirt—hobbling toward her on his thin, titanium legs, a huge grin plastered on his face. His gate was choppy, but she could tell his movements had become more limber as of late.

She excused herself from the colonel with one last shake of the hand, then went to one knee as she caught her "little brother" in a one-armed hug. "Yeah, I'm here. Hey, bud." Lifting her eyes, she nodded to Sammy's physical therapist in order to silently convey, "I've got him." The PT waved back and allowed them their privacy.

In her arms, Sammy said, "You were supposed run with me on Friday."

Oh man, the words being so close to her ear filled her with guilt. Ever since he'd had been fitted for his first set of J-shaped running models, he wanted to practice running with Kim when she volunteered every Friday. It was time he looked forward to each week, and she hated feeling like she'd let him down. Pulling back, she gave him a sad look. "I know, and I'm really sorry, Sammy."

He raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Your grandma?"

She nodded.

Amazingly, his expression was one of utter comprehension, and he hugged her again. "Sorry, Miss Proctor."

She sighed quietly, holding him tightly to her. Sammy, you have no idea how much I wish I could just…tell you...

But instead, she settled for, "It's okay, bud." Then, she gave a small chuckle. "Seriously, though: 'Miss Proctor'? You realize you can just call me Kim, right?"

"And incur the wrath of Mrs. Glenn by referring to his elders in such a casual manner? Come, now: the boy was brought up with much more common sense than that," proclaimed a man's voice from behind.

Kim's eyes widened, but only for a moment, and she turned her head until she was looking up at the face Tony Stark himself. A very dressed-down Tony Stark, but even donning sneakers, jeans, and one of his Black Sabbath t-shirts, he still came across as one of the most well put-together individuals she'd ever seen. Maybe it had to do with that neat little goatee of his.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Sammy beamed, and others turned and murmured excitedly when they realized who'd arrived for an unscheduled visit.

"You see? He's been well taught." He half-smiled, giving him a high-five. "S'up, Speedy?"

She appreciated the attention that Stark gave him, as well as the other three kids who ran over to greet the hero they knew as Iron Man. Standing to her full height, Kim draped an arm around Sammy's shoulders as she locked eyes with the casually-dressed billionaire. His appearance certainly didn't take away from the aura of importance he perpetually emitted, and as usual, he'd captivated all within the facility just by walking in.

Kim, of course, simply saw him as her friend. "Hi, Mr. Stark."

He briefly raised an eyebrow. "Kimbo," he greeted her in his typical fashion, "I assume you got my message."

She smiled gently, shouldering her duffel bag a bit closer to herself. "I did, but JARVIS failed to mention that you'd be making an appearance today."

Those keen brown eyes of his were never without their edge of humor. "That's funny: I could have sworn it was you who extended the invitation in the first place."

She was well aware of the invitation he was referring to: her blog entry from last night. "I did, didn't I?" She said, ducking her eyes briefly.

Normally, Snarky Starky had an endless supply of comebacks at the ready, many of which were bound to make her laugh hysterically (she cursed him when he'd actually gotten her to snort one time). Today, however, he was regarding her quite carefully, which was evident in the way he discreetly narrowed his eyes at her. It was obvious that he was going to be keeping the jokes to a minimum for the time being. "We have some serious work ahead of us, but let's have a private chat before we get started, shall we?"

Her brows rose slightly, but then a mild wave of relief passed through her at his suggestion. He was keeping their conversations out here short so they could seek that privacy as soon as possible. Yes, she certainly could use a chat, and Stark was the only person she could confide in right now. "Yeah," she said, feeling as though the word came out slowly. "Let's."

"Good." In his hand was his laptop case, as well as the small black bag he always brought with him. Stark Industries was stitched across both of them in white italicized letters. "You ready now, or you need a sec?"

"Give me a minute to put this way," she indicated her bag, "I'll be right back."

He gave a short nod, but then he cocked his head as he gazed at her a moment longer. "Your hair looks curlier than usual."

The flush that rose to Kim's cheeks was unexpected…but then again, so was his comment. All she could think about was the fact that Bucky had made a similar observation the night before. She opened her mouth to speak, but for the life of her could think of nothing to say.

But Stark hardly seemed to mind her lack of words. "Looks nice, kiddo."

Her blush remained. Second time she heard that in less than twenty-four hours, too. "Thanks."

"Alright, room five when you're ready," he said very matter-of-factly, then glanced down at Sammy and held out one of his bags. "Hey, Speedy, you want to make yourself useful for a few minutes?"

"Yeah!"

She giggled as she ran a hand over his short, coarse hair. "Go on; I'll be there in a few."

As Stark lead Sammy down one of the side hallways, she listened to the boy proudly go on to Stark about his activities at the center. Though his back was now to her, Kim could tell that Stark was smiling at the boy's enthusiasm.

Her hand relaxing on the shoulder strap of her bag, Kim made her way to the women's locker room at the back of the building.

The familiar odor of cleaning chemicals filled her nose as she entered the white-tiled area, but it didn't punch her in the face the way the smell of chlorine did at the YMCA. Inside, a mother assisted her young daughter with her knee brace, and Kim pretended to busy herself with her iPhone as she headed towards the lockers. When the pair finally exited, she pocketed her phone and took a moment to scan her surroundings. The only sounds were the noises and voices that occasionally filtered in from the adjoining weight-room.

Get moving, she ordered herself. You won't have this place to yourself for very long.

She placed her duffel bag in one of the lockers and, even though she was alone, used her body to block it from anyone's potential view. Unzipping, she pulled it open and gazed at the item lying atop her change of clothes, the very reason she'd been holding her bag so close to her since walking into the center: Bucky's dagger. The one he'd threatened her with, and the one he'd left behind in her living room.

She stared for a long, silent moment, noting its silvery three-inch blade and the well-crafted ebony handle. Strange how something so small could be considered such a deadly weapon. In the right hands, though…

She touched the smooth handle with two fingertips. Stupid, she chastised herself. It was stupid to stash this in her bag; she knew it was stupid. At the time, though, it had been nothing more than a split-second decision on her part. What if Jen had walked in the door right then and there, and discovered her holding this knife? What if Kim hadn't found it first and Jen happened to come across it while she was cleaning or something? What explanation could Kim possibly offer as to where this weapon had suddenly come from, and why it was in the house? Should she have just told Jen the truth about what happened?

She thought about Bucky's tormented eyes, feeling her heart clench beneath her chest. No, her mind whispered. She couldn't do that. Regardless of what had taken place that morning, Kim had already decided that she would continue to keep Bucky's existence a deeply guarded secret.

Her hand surrounded the handle entirely, just holding onto it within her bag. How odd that the shape of it felt so…so natural against her the curves of her palm.

Did Bucky ever think the same thing whenever he held it?

Giving her head a shake, she reminded herself that Stark was waiting for her, and carefully concealed the dagger beneath her spare shirt. She was taking a big risk by bringing this inside with her, but it was better than leaving it out in her car. She wasn't about to tempt fate by leaving a weapon where someone else could get access to it. I'm not hiding anything to hurt anyone, she asserted, taking her water bottle out of the bag and zipping it shut. I'm protecting my family. You are my family, Bucky. I have to protect you somehow.

Kim's ears detected faint giggles just outside the locker room. Angling her head, she listened as the voices grew louder, closer.

Time's up, she told herself, shutting the locker with a metallic chink.

Sure enough, a quartet of young girls was ushered in by a physical therapist, their chattering enhanced by the openness of the room. Kim recognized two of them as Iron Wings members, and judging by their damp swimsuits, they'd just completed an aquatic therapy session in the center's pool. They waved excitedly when they saw her, and Kim waved back with a smile.

Securing the locker with her Master lock, she went over to one of the mirrors to give herself one last look. In the beginning, Stark would often sing "Back in Black" at her, since her typical workout get-up consisted of that very color: black gym shorts, black Cruxshadows t-shirt, even the Nike cross-trainers on both of her feet were black. Well, it was an easy theme to work with.

And it made the green of her eyes stand out even more.

It took her only a few seconds to re-do her ponytail, and then she was finally exiting the locker room, re-tracing her steps as she headed for room five in the clinical suite hallway.