Going back into the lounge, it was easy for the others to tell that something was wrong with Holly. Quietly, so as not to panic the other patrons around them, she told them about the scuffle outside, that a fight had broken out. More importantly, she posited that at least one of the guys in the fight was an enemy. When the name "HYDRA" passed her lips, Maria and Natasha instantly changed mood, each one asking for details about the incident, about the appearance of the people involved, in cold and clinical tones. Soon enough, they were on their feet, instructing the others to carefully gather up their things and head straight to the car while they went out to investigate further. It would be best for them to get out of the potential danger while they still could, and the two ex-agents would catch up with them at the Tower later. Nodding mutely, Pepper grabbed her phone, calling the driver and telling him that they needed to leave immediately. Pasting a calm, almost serene looks on her face, Holly felt her stomach churn harder than before.

If they were able to catch up to the guys, they would find much more than HYDRA. And she wasn't sure how to feel about it. If they found Bucky—if whom she'd seen truly was Bucky, if her eyes weren't playing tricks on her—and they backed him into a corner when he was trying to help, what would they do? After all, Natasha at the very least had a score to settle, she knew that much. It made her sick to think about how badly everything could blow out of proportion. Her hand slipped in her pocket, wrapping around her Taser as if in preparation.

Departing as asked, Pepper, Helen, and Holly could see no other evidence of the altercation on the sidewalk, and even the people hovering outside seemed to have already forgotten it. When the car came around, they dutifully headed out as per the other women's request. The ride back was done in silence, as if breaking it would cause more trouble to befall them. Returning to the Tower without further incident, they all bade good night to each other, the words sounding a little hollow even as they attempted to grin and pretend as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Riding the elevator up to the floor of Steve's quarters, she tipped her head back against the wall, closing her eyes briefly.

What was she going to tell Steve?

The singular sentence circled in her brain as the lift halted, the doors sweeping open for her. Disembarking, she went through the outer door, kicking her shoes off in the entryway and passing a hand over her face. Treading lightly, she spotted her fiance as he was stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly with his arm crooked over his eyes. For a moment, she just watched him breath in and out. The only time he was at peace, and even then it wasn't always true. She sighed inwardly, the partial grin that had sprung up fading away. Clearing her throat, she let her purse land on the coffee table with a thud, the noise just enough to jar Steve awake. Jerking up onto his elbows, he glanced around, getting his bearings again. Upon spotting Holly, a lazy smile bloomed, one that she responded to (just barely).

Turning over his wrist and looking at the watch, he remarked, "You're back early."

Holly's brow furrowed. "Early?"

"Earlier than I had expected," he explained, a wary look in his eyes as he watched her mechanically remove her jacket, drop it on top of her purse, and sit on the edge of the coffee table closest to him. Something wasn't right. "What happened?"

She tugged her sleeves down, fiddling with them as they covered her hands—a nervous habit, he recognized it right away—her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about what she should say. Gently, he laid a palm on her knee, fingers brushing lightly as if to coax the answer out of her. Deciding to just tell him and get it over with, she took in a couple of deep breaths.

"Um...some guys, they got into it right outside the lounge. Well, it was sort of one-sided, but it was a fight," she said, gauging Steve's reaction. Concern had painted his features, but otherwise he had remained calm. In her gut, she knew that wouldn't be the case when she supplied the more important details, but that would be later. She still had the basics to wrap up. "They ran off before management or any of the beat cops got involved, but we thought it was best to head out after that."

He nodded, some relief in his voice when he replied, "I see."

She just managed to stifle a grimace; it was not going to be pleasant to be the one who took away that bit of relief.

"I, uh, I was out there, when it went down." At once Steve's gaze began to harden, but she did not glance away from him. Indeed, she unconsciously mirrored the look as she recalled it all, the flutters in her stomach replaced with annoyance at the memory. "And one of the guys, he..."

"What?" Steve asked, sitting up fully, feet planting firmly on the floor. Holly hesitated then, unsure of what to tell him first. Neither option would be met joyously, but she had no idea whether an appearance by HYDRA or her suspicions of Bucky Barnes would be better received. Crossing his arms over his chest, he exhaled loudly, eyebrows inclining. "He what?"

'Okay, deep breath,' she thought, 'here we go...'

"I saw a patch on his clothes. It was designed not to be easily seen, I think, but the light caught it just right. I'm pretty sure it was HYDRA insignia."

No, she was certain; there was no mistaking the skull and tentacles motif, even if it could barely be made out in lamplight.

The myriad of emotions that crossed over Steve's face in those few seconds went so rapidly it nearly made her head spin. Equal parts of shock, anger, incredulity, underscored by a blot of fear, all warred in his expression. His blue eyes darkened, swept away from hers in furious thought. His chin dropped, mind working at the information presented. His tongue was frozen, his jaw tightened sharply. Reaching out, Holly cradled his head with one hand, thumb brushing the skin of his cheek.

"Look, hey, look at me," Holly nearly whispered, her voice and touch evidently enough to bring him back into focus. At once, Steve stood, taking her hands and drawing her up with him. Swiftly, he scanned over her body, darting from face to torso to legs before she had a chance to say anything about it.

"You're not hurt." It wasn't a question; he could see for himself that she was unharmed. Still, he lifted up her arms, looked her over. Shrugging, she shook her head, waving away the statement with an answer.

"No. He barely touched me." Having resolved to keep the fact of the agent menacing her to herself, her brain immediately starting screaming at her for her verbal slip. Steve's eyes narrowed, and she vainly hoped she could backtrack on it. "Uh..."

"Explain."

Nope, there was definitely no way to avoid it.

"He grabbed my elbow, but I got him off me," she said, a tiny surge of pride surfacing. Her courses and her training with Clint were already working to her benefit, even if she would have rather preferred not to use the techniques at all. "And the other guy was on him too quick for him to keep bothering me."

Steve moved away, pacing a few steps as he thought. "So they are targeting you."

"I think I was just convenient, honestly," Holly denied quickly. Truthfully, she didn't think it was just to do with her, and she pointed out, "I was one in a group of five that had pretty significant connections there."

Stopping in his tracks, he looked at her fully, hands on hips and face like flint."But you were the one who made yourself vulnerable, going out alone."

Part of her knew that he was primarily speaking out of worry, that the events that had transpired could have ended very differently if the circumstances were altered. Long after everything went down, she would acknowledge that. However, at the time, all she could hear was the tone in his voice, the harshness that stung her and rubbed her the wrong way. It felt like criticism, and it rankled.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I needed clearance from my superiors and a security detail to step out for some air," she said, the clipped slant of her voice digging into him. Subtly, he ground his teeth, forcing himself to remain at an even keel.

"Nat could've gone with you, or Maria," he supplied, her snort of derision coming hard his heels.

"Or maybe we all decided to act like normal people and not assume every time we go out it's going to be the death of us." She rolled her eyes, raking a hand through her hair. "God forbid."

"Oh, good. So none of you were thinking ahead, then," Steve riposted sarcastically. He dipped his chin, a mockery of a nod as he waved a hand superfluously in the air. "That's very reassuring."

Holly's frown deepened, her dark eyes glittering with misplaced emotion much as his were.

"Why are you being such an ass about this? It's not like I planned for this to happen! I'm alone a lot of the time in D.C., and you don't care then," she growled, the barely perceptible flinch in his gaze going unnoticed. Her hands went up to cover her eyes and work backward into her hair. Her grip tightened as she pulled it out, fluffing it out as she did. In another circumstance, it would have been comical, but at the moment it was just an outward manifestation of her frustration, and there wasn't anything funny about it. "But suddenly this happens tonight, and somehow it's this huge issue! Like it's all my fault or something?!"

It didn't make sense to her, any of it. Whether or not he meant to, it seemed as though the blame was being laid at her door, and she wasn't about to take that. They'd talked about the possibility of rogue agents, enemies, turning up and coming after her. She'd been taking steps to help protect herself, and he had supported it. In fact, he would more than gladly point out that she should've started much sooner than she had. So when someone finally tried to instigate something, it got directed at her? No way.

"I didn't say it was! You're missing the point!" he groused, the back of his hand slapping into the palm of the other, emphasizing the words. Irritation was bleeding through now, coloring everything as he tried to get her to understand.

"Am I?" Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Getting pissed with me over something I had no control over won't help anything."

"Look who's talking," he shot back, goaded into it. Groaning, she let herself deflating, pressing down on the annoyance and anger, flattening it until she could speak with relative ease.

"I'm done talking. It's late, I'm home safe, and that's enough for now." She moved away, treading down the long hall to the bedroom. "Good night, Steven."

"Hey, this isn't over!" he called after her, pivoting as she strode past him, a tremor of uncertainty taking the heat from his words. The sharp snap of the door shutting behind Holly was her only answer to that. Flabbergasted, Steve stared for a few moments at it, not quite believing that she had just walked out like that. Finally, he harrumphed darkly, shaking his head and stubbornly seating himself back on the couch. Aggressively, he flicked on the television and stewed silently, his jaw working on and off as he did so, sound and picture spilling over him unattended.

Under his breath, he muttered, "Dames...doesn't understand...excuse me..."

For her part, Holly had started to ready herself for bed, jerking movements outlining her endeavor as she changed clothes. She dropped them around the floor and left them where they lay, passive aggressive rebellion that it was. A minute or two passed with her sitting on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing as the remains of her energy rippled through her body. Once, twice, her eyes strayed to the door, wondering if he would come after her, push it further. The distant chatter on the television screen filled the quiet, and ultimately, she simply rolled her eyes and climbed under the sheets, lights clipping off neatly at her command.

"Pigheaded...not always right...being an ass," she mumbled her thoughts aloud, her brain too tired to filter it. She also couldn't block out her mother's voice reverberating through her head, years of experience weighing down advice that was unwelcome at the moment.

'Don't go to bed angry. It won't do you any good.'

Too late, she grumbled to herself, switching sides and ducking her head under the pillow to shut it out. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she closed her eyes, drifting into a fitful doze. Later (she was unsure how much later, probably no more than an hour) the mattress shifted, dipping as Steve's larger frame settled upon it. Her eyes opened, adjusting slowly to the blackness. Waiting, she could only hear his soft breaths, nothing else forthcoming. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she realized something was missing. Her pillow had been pushed away in her sleep, off the bed. Inhaling through her nose, she shifted, stretching over the edge to get it and flop it back into its proper place. Her mother's voice called to her again, persisting as the seconds ticked by. Perhaps she should listen to it, and try again. However, before she had the chance to open her mouth, the exhausted timber of Steve interrupted her.

"I do care." The statement, soft and simple, cut hard into her. It was why he reacted the way he did; not because he thought it was her fault, or that she couldn't handle herself, but because he adored her. What could have happened made his heart sore thinking about it, and how having her walk the thin line between safety and chaos for his sake frightened him deep down. In her own heart, she knew all this, but had made the mistake of getting upset. They both did. But mistakes could be remedied over time.

At the very least, she wasn't going to go to sleep without letting him know she still cared, too.

Turning over, she crawled across the bed, lifting the sheets as she went. Leaning over him, she went to drop a kiss on his temple, the darkness disorienting her and making her plant the kiss in his hair instead.

"I know," she whispered, giving him the room to roll over and face her. Sliding down, she relaxed when he took her hand between both of his, gripping it mildly as they let themselves be lulled into sleep.

The next morning, they went about their routines, edging around each other with as few words as possible so as not to set the other one off. As Holly went about showering and changing, Steve had wandered off, the chimes of the wall display calling out. Sliding on her jeans and shirt, she contemplated the awkward maneuvers they were pulling around one another, and how to get back to the state of equilibrium. Once dressed, she went into the kitchen area, crowing appreciatively as the coffee maker finished filling. Grabbing down a couple mugs, she flashed Steve a little grin as he came in, settling against the counter behind her. Pouring some straight black (he had coffee more out of habit than anything else now, and having no sweeteners kicked it up a notch for him), she passed the cup to him, fingers brushing in the process.

"Nat called up. Said they found the guy in Central Park," he murmured suddenly, tilting his head towards the living room and the call screen. The agent was collapsed on the ground at the north end, beaten basically to a pulp, but he was alive. Lifting one shoulder, he drank some the brew and continued, "He's catatonic, apparently."

Having spent half her night chasing him down, Natasha had been hoping to at least get a solid interrogation out of the fellow, but the wild set of his terrified eyes and stiffness upon being approached told her she was out of luck in that regard. At least he was in custody, out of the way, and Steve was grateful for that.

"Guess he won't have much to say for himself for awhile," she replied, half-wincing at the idea. Whatever was done to the guy to render him such had to have been awful, and that left her with a sinking feeling inside. The confession that it might have been his erstwhile best friend who had caused that damage was on the tip of her tongue, neglected up until that moment, when Steve started talking again.

"Definitely not. Higher ups must have scrambled his brain before dumping him, since he didn't finish the job."

With her back turned to him, he did not see the flash of skepticism on her face. Pouring her cup, she hummed an agreement, gnawing on her lip as she stirred in creamer and sugar. The will to confess had been quelled somewhat; she felt so conflicted about it, but then again, in the light of day, she was questioning what she had even seen. Even if she wanted to believe it was Bucky who had stepped in, what good would it do to tell Steve about it? Especially since he'd disappeared afterward, again. It could have been a massive coincidence.

Trouble was, she didn't really believe in those anymore. She swallowed hard, the confliction a lump in her throat.

"At least it was just one guy," she managed to say, turning to face Steve, mug clenched between both hands. He glanced down into his coffee, shaking his head.

"This time." Upon hearing her exasperated sigh, his head jerked up, a hand held out to preempt a verbal onslaught. "Sorry...just, sorry."

The contrition in his tone and his face were genuine; his honesty made him fairly easy to read in situations like this. It made her feel guilty about her slight duplicity, but she pushed it down, instead crossing the space and settling next to him. Her fingers threaded through his, and she exhaled slowly.

"Me, too." She lifted a shoulder, a self-deprecating smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "I wasn't being the best person about it all."

Neither of them were, really. Given that this was the first real experience she'd ever had with HYDRA (the events of September did not count, in her mind; coming into contact with a deprogrammed assassin was in an altogether different ballpark), she knew that gotten out relatively unscathed, and that she shouldn't have jumped down Steve's throat as quickly as she had. Nor should he have done the same. Well, it was something to work on, and they would do that together.

He gave her a rueful glance, the look in his eyes commiserating with her statement. "I'm just thankful you didn't try shooting at me."

She snickered, not doubting in the slightest that there was a story behind that. "You're lucky I'm not that fond of guns. But I could always give the Taser a shot."

The marked discomfort on Steve's face made her laugh, and she set about scrounging up some breakfast after leaning up and pressing her lips against his. Fences, while not totally mended, were on the way there.

xXxXxXx

Several days later, Holly found herself at the register in the store, the afternoon trailing by with few customers coming in and out. Some of the uproar that had surrounded the news of her engagement was starting to die down, and the hangers-on had started looking elsewhere for their gossip and intrigue. Tapping her finger along the counter, she tossed her hair, closing her eyes and listening as the overhead sound system played the classical tracks she'd gotten so familiar with over the last few years. When she opened her eyes again, she looked out the wide windows at the front, spotting the bench across the street. People walked to and fro, but a man had appeared there, arm draped over the back of it, black cap and sunglasses on despite the weak sunlight barely piercing the clouds. He seemed familiar, and when he turned to look down the street, exposing his profile, she had to stifle her gasp. Holly's mouth turned down into a frown; she was not up for surprises today, and refused to be ambushed by one. Instead, she stiffened her spine, heading back into her office and grabbing up her jacket.

"Michelle, cover the register. I'm going to take a break outside for a bit," she called out, waiting for the new hire (nice girl, had a better attitude than the last day shift person) to take her place at the counter. Slinging on the jacket, she boldly marched across the street, hands jammed into pockets and legs working quickly as she darted through the lull of traffic. Coming up on the guy, who had watched her cross but did not move, she inclined her head to the bench, silently asking permission to join him. He dipped his chin once, and she swiftly took a seat. For a few minutes, neither said a word; rather, they tolerated each other's presence, the April day going on at the same pace as it had before.

"Well, this is a bit of an improvement," she eventually broke the peace. She just couldn't stand it anymore. Gesturing between them, she continued, "We're not swinging at each other this time."

The fellow frowned, removing the sunglasses and the ice in his eyes sharpening."I didn't swing at you the first time."

She had the grace to look a little sheepish at that. "I guess that's true. But, I mean...you're..."

Bucky held up a hand, cutting her off. "I know."

Another long moment passed, wherein the pair simply observed one another. Almost as if they were sizing one another up, she thought, though she knew that wasn't the case.

"Buc—" She cut herself off, the nickname stumbling on her tongue. It was hard for her, reconciling the stories Steve had told her with the experiences she'd had with this man. A part of her felt like calling him that wasn't right, not at the moment. Staring hard at him, she instead used his rarely-used first name. "James. Here you are."

He nodded. "Yes."

His single syllable answer, couple with his bland expression, irritated her slightly. Summoning the nerve, she looked at him, focusing intently on his face.

"Why...just why?" Holly stumbled, inwardly chastising herself for it and yet still pressing onward. "I can't even ask anything beyond that. I'm just stunned that you're around. Why?"

Concentration took over his features, furrowing his brow and making him squint as he thought. What should he tell her, he wondered? What answer would she accept?

"Just...because."

She blinked, nonplussed. "Please tell me you've got more than that to say."

Sighing, he dropped his gaze, his scuffed boots a fascinating sight at that second. Soon enough, he found his tongue again, something in his voice ringing true as he spoke. "It's the right thing for me to do."

Deep down, she knew Barnes could be a frightening person, deadly and terrifying. But the turn of his head, the slouch of shoulders, made him seem vulnerable then...made him seem more human. So while she scaled back on the snark, there was still a touch of it when she spoke again.

"Randomly showing up and protecting me from being jumped once will do that, huh?"

"Not just once," he muttered, not low enough so that she couldn't hear. As the color started to drain from her face at the implication, he tipped his head to the side sharply. "Whether you like to acknowledge it or not, you're a target. Even more so now that you've got that on your finger."

He pointed at the claddagh—a small voice at the back of his head marveling at the fact that Stevie had actually gotten up the stones to ask in the first place—to highlight his point.

"You can't do it all on your own, either of you. So...I have been," Bucky concluded, flicking his fingers at thin air as if to brush off his revealed involvement. Weeks ago, he'd made the resolution to keep his activities a secret, to work from the shadows and out of the captain's light. However, he'd made the choice to break that promise in order to do as he had set out to and defend her from a surprise attack. Adapt, change to accommodate the surroundings, and reach the objective by whatever means necessary. The Winter Soldier was good at that, and Bucky Barnes had retained that much over his last year of freedom. And due to adaptation, he now had to make his position clear, to tell exactly how it was and how it would be.

"So, what's in it for you to do this? No offense, but you aren't exactly the poster child for altruism," Holly replied in time, causing him to smirk.

"Nobody really is." Shaking his head, he grunted, "It's...not exactly that."

"Then what is it?"

Slowly, carefully, as though he was pulling painful barbs one by one from himself, Bucky explained further, exposing the heart of the matter as he hadn't before.

"I can't change what's happened, what I've done, but I can...I can choose to not let it happen to someone else."

Holly stared at him, dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "This is your Golden Ticket, then."

An eyebrow inclined, curiosity in his face. "I'm not looking for a reward, if that's what you're getting at."

"No, it's a...you know what, I already have one man to help catch up on seventy years of pop culture references, and that's enough," she cut herself off, fingers rubbing against her temples briefly. Glancing over, she conceded, "But you weren't far off the mark with your guess. More like you're looking at this as a chance for something better."

That sounded closer to what he was looking for, and so he dipped his chin in agreement. "Provided it doesn't kill me."

"Well, from what I understand, it's very hard to do that." She gave him a wan smile, which didn't entirely mask the fear within it. "I'm not sure I'm totally comfortable with this."

"I know," he repeated, not sounding apologetic for it in the slightest. Besides, she didn't seem to rejecting the idea, or telling him off for it. Odds were she wouldn't do so, simply because it was to her benefit not to. He had enough grace to concede that the whole situation hadn't really settled on her yet, and so she wouldn't be able to say yea or nay until it had. Best to go, to give the chance to think on everything. Rising from his seat, he zipped up his hoodie, the canvas jacket over it buttoned next. Replacing the sunglasses on his face, he murmured, "He…it would be better if you didn't say anything about this...meeting."

Holly's head jerked up so suddenly it was a wonder that she didn't have whiplash. Disbelief poured from her gaze, her mouth flapping open and closed for a second or two. Soon enough, she snorted, dropping her head into her hands.

"Now that I no longer have the option of plausible deniability, that's when you make the condition. Of course."

That pulled Barnes up short, made him pause in his departure. "What?"

Something akin to pity decorated her features, though it was offset by the narrowing of her eyes.

"I don't know if I can keep it from him, James," she responded, hitting the word him hard enough to make him understand. She lifted her arms when he took a defensive stance, as if he would move to make her refute her words, with her palms out. "This is…look, you're gonna do what you want. Free country here. Hell, for all either of us knows, it could end here and you might just bugger off after that."

Fair enough; he'd done it before, after all. Twice. Still, her words stung a bit, and he glared at her. Her throat constricted visibly, and a hand pressed against her abdomen: dry throat, nervous stomach, if he had to guess. Still, even if she flinched, she wasn't totally cowed by him. Boy, Stevie sure knew how to pick 'em.

"But if it comes down to it, I'm not going to lie to him if he suspects your being around." Sincerity laced her tone, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "It won't do anyone any good."

Perhaps, perhaps not. Just as he'd done with her, she'd shown him the lay of the land from her end. But for now, if it was left at that, then maybe this would be the end of it all. HYDRA was significantly weakened, he knew that much, and if he knew the captain well (part of him did, at least), then it wouldn't be very long before a final confrontation was reached. If it had to be this way, then he would have to accept it.

"Okay," Bucky muttered, unable to continue to look at the strong feelings exposed on her face, in her eyes. He was so used to blankness, and fury, that exposure to other emotions blindsided him more often than not. It made him feel...well, it made him feel, and he was still trying to get used to that. Turning away, he manage to take a few steps before she called out to him.

"They are still looking out for you, you know."

A chord was struck, air constricting in his lungs as the comment hit home. Not forgotten, then. But forgiven...that wouldn't happen yet. So they would have to keep looking, as much as he wished they wouldn't. As much as he wished Steve wouldn't.

"I know," he said once more, shrugging up his shoulders against the guilt and weaving into the crowds of people milling around the sidewalks, vanishing from sight, and with any luck, from mind. For the time being.

A/N: Hoo boy, that was a tough one to write. Mainly because I absolutely despise confrontation (verbal ones honestly make me cringe, no matter how slight they are), but also because Buck and Holly had to have their one-on-one chat. Eh, nobody's perfect, just saying. And we'll see how long Holly can go without owning up to Steve about Bucky's involvement, now that it's 100% confirmed...probably not long, if you're a betting person—which I certainly am not. ;)

I don't own any references to the MCU, nor to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I swear, we are so close to Age of Ultron territory now...so close!

Just taking this moment to thank all my reviewers/readers who have stayed with the story thus far! You guys are great, and I genuinely wish I could thank each and every one of you in person (especially you guest reviewers; so many of you ask such good questions, and I want to be able to answer them!) for sticking around. :)

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!