Gianna

The elevator echoed with the sound of her heels on the white marble floor. Pressing the button for the top floor, Gianna leaned back against the wall as the ascent began. Wanda''s voice carried through the phone pressed to her ear, venting about how the new recruiting class is disappointingly devoid of any good looking male agents. A few moments later, the door slid open to reveal a long hallway with her door at the end, now accompanied by a new addition.

A sentinel of the Iron Legion stood stoically by the entrance, the humanoid bot stationed there to protect her and her home.

"Wanda, seriously, tell Nat this is too much," Gianna spoke into her phone, chuckling. "I don't need my own personal Iron Man."

Natasha's distant voice filtered through the phone, clearly shouting from whatever room she and Wanda were in, "You can never be too careful. You have a history of trouble, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Gianna hoped they could hear her eyes rolling through the phone. "It's just that the giant robotic suit of armor doesn't really go with my decor."

"Hey, I offered to assign live agents to you instead and you not-so-graciously declined."

"Well, I also have a bad habit of falling in love with my security, so this seemed a little safer." Eyeing the silent guardian, Gianna shrugged off her coat and let it fall onto the back of a dining room chair.

"Like I said, there aren't any cute ones anyways." Wanda scoffed.

"Next time you guys come to stay, we'll go back to a basketball game. You'll have your pick of the whole roster." Gianna laughed, slipping out of her heels.

"I'm counting on it." Wanda giggled. "Alright G, we have to go. It's Sam's night to cook and I can smell something burning. We love you."

"Love you guys, talk soon." She blew a kiss into the phone before hanging up, setting it on the nightstand. It had been a long day in the studio, with very little to show for it. She's been working on recording some of the songs she'd written lately, but recording love songs with a broken heart just didn't bode well. So for the past week, she and her producer had gone back and forth, trying to find inspiration that just wasn't there. Finally, they called it a night. Gianna slid her feet into plush slippers, padding across the spacious living area to the kitchen.

Pouring a generous glass of red, she headed to the sprawling sectional and sank down. She desperately needed to shower and sleep after her marathon day. This morning's coffee run felt like a lifetime ago. The emotional toll it took to try and write lyrics she no longer felt connected to, to revisit the emotional place she had been evicted from by the love of her life, it was heavy. Luckily, her producer was nothing if not understanding, even suggesting they put a hold on new music for the time being. She'd kept her days full. Wanda and Nat stayed for the rest of the weekend after their night out, and it really had done her good. Part of the pain she'd been feeling hadn't just been from the loss of Bucky, but of the whole team that had become her friends and family. Knowing they weren't truly lost, that the love was still there, it healed part of her. She missed them the moment they left, but she didn't feel quite as heavy as she had before they came.

Between long recording sessions, fittings for the upcoming awards' season, and her increasingly frequent coffee meetings with Sebastian, she was able to keep her mind somewhat occupied. But she knew filming for the Winter Soldier movie would begin soon, so their meetings would end. All the preparation would take place before the production started. He'd given her an open invitation to the set, but she politely declined. Seeing him and discussing Bucky was one thing, but seeing him in full costume, seeing him with the arm and the suit and everything else necessary to bring him to life…she didn't think she could stomach it.

Sipping her wine, Gianna's fingers scrolled through her phone, swiping through countless headlines—snapshots of her life through the eyes of people who would never know her.

A particular headline caught her eye, a gossipy piece hinting at her connection with Sebastian, taken earlier that week. Gianna gave a half-hearted smile, mentally patting herself on the back. They'd played right into her hand. It was a game she felt like she had mastered, knowing what they wanted to see and how they'd spin it. All she and Seb had done was move their meetings to more public places, the paparazzi had taken it all from there. No hand holding, no kissing, no affection at all besides the hugs hello and goodbye. Yet, the media was convinced that they were head over heels for each other.

'Starlet has a type: dark and dangerous' read the headline, accompanied with side by side photos of her with Bucky several months ago and with Sebastian now. The comments were growing by the minute. Half of them swooned, calling the new pairing a match made in heaven, while other comments claimed she was rebounding. They weren't exactly wrong. The difference was that she wasn't rebounding so much as she wanted a certain someone to think she was. Gianna knew it was wrong to play games with Bucky, to try and elicit some reaction she'd probably never even see. Just like she knew it was wrong to sing a song with such poignant lyrics, venom in her voice, and hope he would see it. She just couldn't help it. All this pain had to go somewhere.

Finishing her wine, Gianna returned the glass to the sink and retreated to her bedroom to get ready for bed. The high ceilings and plush carpeting couldn't be more luxurious, but being in this place alone night after night felt less like a palace and more like a prison sentence.

Bucky

The city breathed beneath the streetlights, and Bucky exhaled, a plume of mist dissipating in the cool night air. Running through the familiar streets, the rhythm of his footfalls echoed the cadence of his thoughts.

New York held a special place in his heart—the pulsating heartbeat of life only having grown since his years growing up here. Even with all that had changed over the past century, it was still New York. It was still his home. His evening jog had become a ritual this week, helping to quiet his mind before going to sleep in the uncharacteristically quiet Tower. He'd chosen to stay behind when the rest of the team flew back to the compound last week, needing a change of scenery and time to clear his head. The intervention with Nat and Wanda, all the memories they'd shown him, seeing Gianna in person for the first time in weeks, realizing his plan to let her go be happy without him might have actually worked…it was a lot to process. He needed time.

"I'll be fine," he assured Nat and Steve, his gaze scanning the skyline. "Just need some time to clear my head."

The sound of the Quinjet's engines nearly drowned out his voice, their hair whipping around all of their faces.

"Okay, Buck. Take care of yourself." Steve patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't you dare spend the whole week brooding." Nat elbowed him. "Promise me you'll leave the Tower like a normal person."

"I promise." Bucky gave a half-assed smile.

"Good." She paused before hugging him. "It's gonna be okay. I don't know how or when, but it will be."

"Thanks, Nat. For everything."

He stood on the helipad and waved to the departing ship, sending his friends back to their home. He knew the training and development of the SHIELD agents was important, but he still held out hope that the team would relocate back to the Tower more permanently. Being here, even in such bleak circumstances, just felt right. He'd give himself two weeks. Two weeks to sort through his feelings, to take some time and get his head on straight. He needed to get it together so he could be the leader and teammate his friends deserved. Two weeks to get all of this sadness, this rage, out of his system despite the promise he'd made to Nat that he wouldn't spend the time brooding.

After these two weeks, he wouldn't let this heartbreak rule his life.

One week into his self-isolation, and he was no closer to being okay. Maybe that's because he wasn't entirely truthful with himself. As much as he did want to clear his head, he knew he had an ulterior motive for staying in the city. A hope that maybe, just maybe, the winding streets of favorite city might conspire to bring him face to face with her. Gianna. Every run, every walk to get food, every time he stepped onto the balcony, he couldn't help but hope. He searched for her face in every crowd, thought he heard her laugh in every bustling coffee shop. He wanted to move on just as much as he wanted her to have his heart forever. Just maybe, it would happen by chance. They'd run into each other in the streets of the city they both loved, he'd be forced to tell her everything on his mind and heart. If it happened like that, he would know it was meant to be. He wouldn't be trying to make something happen, it would happen on its own.

As he jogged through the dwindling evening crowds on the sidewalk, he couldn't help but look for that flash of golden blonde hair.

Gianna

The conference room hummed with anticipation, the sleek glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city below. Gianna sat at the head of the table, her gaze steady as she listened to the discussions unfold. This was one of the lowest floors of the Avengers' Tower she'd ever been on. She knew the first 40 floors were all occupied by various business ventures of Tony and Pepper's, and now one of them housed the executive team of the record label they'd purchased so many months ago.

Around her, the executives from Stark Records, including Pepper herself, and her manager, Tom, huddled together, their voices echoing off the polished surfaces. She'd learned all of their names, but didn't remember them. A group of men in suits was largely interchangeable for any other group of men in suits. She trusted Pepper and she trusted Tom, but the rest of them could go either way. She assumed Pepper wouldn't have hired them if they were as skeezy as her last label, but she couldn't help but be wary. The room was overly air conditioned, as all conference rooms usually were. Gianna's blouse did little to protect her from the chill, her coffee thankfully warming her hands.

"We need something big," one of the executives remarked, his tone charged with determination. "Something that will show the world you're back, stronger than ever."

Gianna nodded, her expression composed. She had spent months recuperating, rebuilding herself both physically and emotionally after the attack. Now that she'd returned to the city, the world was holding their breath and eagerly awaiting her return to touring. The irony was that she felt like more of a wreck now, months after the attack, than she had immediately afterwards. She sipped her coffee, willing herself to stay focused instead of throwing herself a pity party. It was her idea to return to working, her idea for this meeting to happen in the first place.

"We want to plan a charity concert," Pepper interjected, her voice a calm anchor amidst the flurry of ideas. "A big benefit show that will not only mark your return but also give back. We know you already ensured the costs of all the victims were covered, but we could invite them all to attend, and present them with additional funding. We could also choose another charity of your choice, raise money for that as well."

Tom leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's a massive comeback," he admitted, "but I think it's exactly what we need. It would be incredible press, and I think we could really make an impact with a benefit of that size."

Gianna's heart swelled with purpose. She had always believed in the power of music to heal, to unite, and now, more than ever, she felt a profound sense of responsibility. If all this had to happen to her, at least she could make some good come out of it. This was her longest time away from the stage since she began touring all those years ago. Her return had to be massive.

"I'm in," she declared, her voice unwavering. "Let's make this happen."

The room erupted into a whirlwind of planning, ideas flying back and forth. Dates were discussed, venues considered, and a lineup of performers curated. As the meeting drew to a close, a sense of collective determination filled the air and anticipation filled Gianna's stomach. She glanced out the window, the city stretching out before her. As excited as she was to take the stage and make this a smashing success, she felt a pang for the one person she always assumed would be backstage when she returned.

Bucky

Bucky strode through the sliding glass doors of the Tower, a gust of cool morning air greeting him as he stepped onto the bustling New York street. The sun was still rising over the city, casting long shadows between the towering buildings.

As he descended the steps, he noticed a pack of men in suits entering the building. He gave them a curt nod, feeling their eyes on him as they made their way towards the entrance. It was all the same. At the compound, it was the SHIELD agents. Here, it was all the white collar professionals working on the lower levels of the Tower. He wondered if the Winter Soldier would ever stop being a spectacle.

Whatever, screw them and whatever self-important corporate bullshit they were headed off to discuss. Not his problem.

His jog took him through the heart of the city, the pulse quicker and more lively than his evening jog the night before.

Further into his run, he passed a coffee shop where a familiar face emerged at the last second. Their paths collided, nearly sending them both sprawling. With lightning-fast reflexes, Bucky caught the arm of the man he'd run into and steadied them both. Before he could apologize, he recognized the man.

Of fucking course.

Sebastian, starstruck but courteous, introduced himself. Bucky's piercing gaze warned him to tread carefully. "It's truly an honor to meet you, Sargent. I don't know if you've heard, I've been trying to get in touch with you -"

Bucky gave a reluctant grunt in acknowledgement.

"Look," Sebastian said, cutting through the tension, "I don't want to take up too much of your time. It really is an honor. I want to do right by you and your story. If you ever want to come to set, to give your opinion…just know you're welcome."

"Thanks," Bucky's voice was gruff but he forced himself to shake the hand Sebastian extended to him. As the actor turned to leave, Bucky spoke again. "Be good to her."

Turning back, Sebastian had a puzzled look on his face before something clicked. He stepped closer to Bucky, speaking quietly, as if he realized their interaction was likely being filmed and/or photographed.

"Hey, whatever you've heard, seen—it's not what it seems. Gianna and I, we're friends. Strictly platonic. I asked her for help with the role, and she's been incredible. She's been coaching me, helping me learn about well, uh…you." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "My agent couldn't get ahold of you, and I heard she was back in the city, so I figured it was worth a shot. She's been great. Hell, she honestly made my job harder. I thought she'd give me some kind of insight that made it easier to portray you, but the way she talks about you, man…I have bigger shoes to fill than I even thought."

Bucky's skepticism lingered, but he listened. Sebastian detailed Gianna's commitment to ensuring the movie did justice to Bucky's character. He spoke of her kindness, her professionalism, and her desire for the film to be a true reflection of Bucky's that moment, Bucky glimpsed the complexities of Gianna's heart. Even in heartbreak, even in her immense anger, she sought to protect him, to preserve the integrity of his story.

"Thank you." Bucky said solemnly, nodding to Sebastian. Turning to walk away, he caught himself, feeling like he owed the man more than his standard two word reply. "Hey, I'll come to the set. Just uh, let me know when and where."

Sebastian grinned. "Will do. For the record, I really hope you don't show up alone."

As Sebastian walked away, Bucky stood alone on the bustling street, the city once again fading away. A newfound clarity surged within him, and with purpose in his stride, he turned back toward the Tower.

Gianna

The elevator doors slid open, and Gianna stepped into the hallway. The soft hum of city life filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the long stretch as the sun sank below the skyline outside.

"Are you sure you don't want to come out tonight?" The familiar voice crackled through the line.

"Sorry, Mads. I'm beat. This week has kicked my ass. I just need an early night in for a change. Sorry I'm lame." She held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she dug for her keys in her purse.

"Um, says the girl who's the reason I partied with the Avengers last weekend. You are the furthest thing from lame. Enjoy your night, watch a shitty rom-com, and get your beauty sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sounds good, love you," Gianna laughed as they hung up. The guardian stationed outside her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Good evening, Ms. Cruz. Are you staying in for the evening? Shall I activate the overnight security protocol?" The mechanical voice inquired. Gianna responded affirmatively, and with a whirl of high-tech precision, the glowing lights behind the armor clicked from blue to red.

Once the door was open, Gianna meandered through her expansive living space, taking her sweet time. It had been weeks since she was home by 6pm with no plans to leave again. Heels in hand, her fingers glided over the grand piano that stood as a silent testament to countless late-night melodies. She moved toward the bathroom, the marble floors cool beneath her bare feet.

Her bathroom, a sanctuary of luxury, overlooked the city. The skyline twinkled beyond the glass, a tapestry of lights. Gianna set the tone, turning on soft music that reverberated through the spacious room.

The centerpiece was a deep, clawfoot bathtub, the thing that had sold her on this place even more than the views. Gianna began drawing a bath, adding a mix of oils, filling the air with hints of lavender and vanilla. As the hot water cascaded into the tub, Gianna let the melodies envelop her. She shed the weight of the day and her clothes in a pile on the floor, going to pour herself a glass of wine and a heaping glass of ice water as the steaming tub filled.

Bucky

Bucky stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for Gianna's floor, the weight of anticipation hanging on his shoulders. He'd had the entire day to wrestle with what he would say, how he would explain himself, and most importantly, how he would convey the depth of his feelings. Really, he'd had the whole week to do so, but it wasn't until his chance encounter with Sebastian that he'd known what he had to do. He was looking for a sign, a fated run-in, and he got one. It wasn't with the person he expected, but it gave him the same answer. Gianna wasn't seeing anyone, and whatever she felt towards him, she was still acting in love. He couldn't let himself waste one more night not undoing his mistake.

Thankfully, the doorman hadn't given him trouble. He was either a fan or afraid, or both. After his wide-eyed stare watched Bucky come up the front steps of the building, he eagerly opened the doors without so much as a question. Although, Bucky assumed, he probably had seen a magazine sometime in the past year and could make a guess who Bucky was there to see.

As he rounded the final corner leading to Gianna's apartment, he was met with an unexpected obstacle – an Iron Legion bot? Shit. This had Natasha written all over it. He could practically hear her lecturing Gianna about the piss-poor security in this building. Given that he himself had just walked straight in, he couldn't exactly say she was wrong.

As he cautiously approached, a cold, mechanical voice echoed through the corridor, "You are unauthorized to enter this unit. Please stand back."

Bucky, determination etched on his face, continued forward. The voice repeated "You are unauthorized to enter this unit. Please stand back." This time, the mechanical arm raised towards him, palm beginning to glow.

"I just need to talk to her. It's important," he urged, his tone pleading.

The robot, however, was unyielding. "Unauthorized access. Step away."

In his desperation to reach Gianna, Bucky attempted to sidestep the bot. But as he moved to go around it, the Iron Legion reacted with a blast to his midsection, knocking the wind out of him in a low grunt and sending him sliding back several feet. He steeled himself, taking a slow breath in through his sore chest before stepping forward again.

"Unauthorized access. Step away."

Bucky advanced again, but this time, the bot's metal fist flew out with inhuman speed, clocking him across the jaw. He barely had time to react before his own blood splattered across his vision.

Gianna

The steam from the bath curled around her silhouette as she leaned back in the tub, the soft melody of a gut-wrenchingly sad song playing in the background. The skyline outside her window twinkled, mirroring the city lights. She took it in for a moment before closing her eyes, letting out a deep breath and, for the first time all day, letting her feelings wash over her. The excitement about performing again, the nerves that she never seemed to outgrow, the love she felt from reconnecting with friends, and the ever-present ache of something missing. She let the feelings flow and didn't fight them. Good and bad, heart wrenching and fulfilling. The steam from the tub began to turn her hair into ringlets where it framed her face, water condensating on her skin. The only buffer between the tidal wave inside her and her sanity was the warm buzz from the wine.

In her daze, she almost missed the first strange noise outside her door. A thud. A few seconds later, another. Then…a grunt? Her eyes flew open. A series of thuds, punctuated with what was most definitely a groan.

Concern etched across her face, Gianna pulled herself from the bath, wrapping the robe around her still-dripping body. The noises were too concerning to waste time drying fully off, and if she was being honest, the wine had dulled her better judgment anyway. The noises persisted, so loud they sounded like they were right outside the door.

Shit. She thought. Maybe Nat was right to send the Legion.

She approached cautiously, her steps light and breathing shallow. A small puddle began to pool under her bare feet as she pressed her hands through the door and looked through the peephole.

Gianna's blood went cold.

On the floor leaning against the opposite wall, blood dripping from his swollen face, was Bucky.

Gasping, she hastily opened the door. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the lock and yanked the door open. The Iron Legion bot's mechanical voice droned, "Defensive Protocol Engaged. Perpetrator Apprehended. Would you like me to call for local law enforcement?" The machine was standing perfectly still in its' post beside her door.

"What? No! Disable security protocol," Gianna breathed, her eyes never leaving Bucky's battered form. The lights on the machine turned back to blue, and she knelt beside him, her voice a mixture of panic and disbelief, "Bucky? Buck, can you hear me?"

Bucky's eyes, aching and swollen, slowly opened. He gave a soft grunt in confirmation, but immediately coughed after the effort, fresh blood spilling from his mouth. Blood was dripping down the side of his face from a laceration on his forehead, his lip was split and swollen, and his whole face was puffy from swelling. Gianna had a sinking feeling that if his arms weren't covered by his sweatshirt, she'd be counting a lot more bruises. Eyes trailing down his body, assessing damage, she froze when she saw his hands.

There wasn't a single bruise on his knuckles.

She ran her hands delicately over his, fingertips tracing the veins there. Her stomach knotted with the realization. He didn't fight back. He didn't even try to defend himself. Gianna knew his abilities, she'd seen him rip metal apart before without half a thought. She knew he could have dismantled the bot and ripped her door off of its hinges if he really wanted to. The fact that he didn't even try…Her heart shattered. Silently, she helped him to his feet and into her loft, her touch gentle against the rawness of his wounds. He was incredibly heavy, the weight of muscle and vibranium combining to make it nearly impossible for Gianna to help him to his feet. One arm slung over her shoulder, they slowly made their way into her home.

"Here, sit here," Gianna was breathless from the effort of helping him walk. She hooked a foot around the leg of a dining room chair, bending down to allow him to drop into it. She rushed around, her wet footprints dotting the carpet, frantically searching for the first aid kit. Her heart was pounding in her ears, hands fumbling as she dug through the box in her hall closet she never bothered to unpack. She mentally cursed her own procrastination and the wine for fogging her brain. Finally freeing the kit, she hurried back to the table and pulled out the chair right beside Bucky, sitting so close their knees were touching.

"Sorry 'bout the carpet," Bucky mumbled, his swollen lip making the words imperfect. Gianna didn't have to look down to know he was dripping blood onto her plush white rug.

"Shush," she replied, her voice gentle yet commanding. The sight of him, bruised and battered, stirred emotions she had been desperately trying to bury. "Don't worry about the carpet. I never liked it anyways." He tried to chuckle but the coughing overtook him again, causing him to wince and grab at his ribs.

His sweatshirt, now damp with blood and sweat, clung to his body. "Take your shirt off." Gianna instructed, switching damp washcloths after the first one was covered in dried blood from her dabbing at his forehead.

"Y'gotta buy me dinner first," He mumbled, coughing again with the effort.

"James Buchanan Barnes," She scolded, though she had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. "This is so not the time." Her hands gently gripped the hem of his sweatshirt, ever so lightly lifting it. He groaned as he slowly raised his arms over his head and allowed her to remove it. When it was fully off, she dropped it into a heavy heap on the floor.

"Bucky…" Her eyes welled with tears as they raked over his body. His ribs were blackened, so swollen that his toned stomach looked puffy in all the places he'd been struck. His collarbone was decorated in bruises, likely broken. That explained why he wasn't able to remove his own shirt. Gianna reached back for the washcloth, gently cleaning the dried blood from his face, careful not to press too hard. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Why didn't you fight back?" she asked, her voice a delicate whisper that hung in the air.

He was quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick, "It was here to keep unwanted visitors away." He took a labored breath. " And I'm an unwanted visitor."

"Buck," she began, her voice cracking with genuine remorse. "I am so sorry, I never would have wanted -"

Bucky, gripping her wrist firmly, stopped her. His words were still slightly slurred by the swollen lip. "You have nothing to apologize for. I came here to say that I'm sorry, to tell you I was a fucking idiot." He coughed, wiping the small amount of blood from his mouth on the back of his hand. "I fucked up. It's my fault. All of this is my fault."

"Shhh," Gianna gently stroked his hair back from his face. "We don't have to talk about that right now. Just let me get you cleaned up, okay?" He looked like he wanted to protest, but silently nodded. Sinking back into the chair, he closed his eyes.

It took nearly half an hour for Gianna to get all the crusted blood from his face. She cleaned all his cuts, closing lacerations with butterfly bandages she was shocked she had. They'd strapped bags of frozen fruit to his ribcage and collarbone using a long ace bandage, and she poured him a strong glass of bourbon even though they both knew it wouldn't make a difference to him.

His eyes were still closed, breathing less ragged. Thank goodness for his accelerated healing, although Gianna worried that if something healed wrong before they could get to a doctor, they'd have no choice but to re-break it. Considering the only doctor he trusted was half an hour away by Quinjet exclusively, that wasn't a very likely option.

"Hey," She ran her hands through his hair again, tucking it behind his ears. Blue eyes fluttered open, focusing on her. "How you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks." He sat up straighter, groaning.

"I don't have other clothes for you, but I can wash these if you want…" Gianna tried not to look at his bare chest. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to call someone? Steve, I should call Steve." She stood to go retrieve her phone but metal fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Wait," His voice was strained. "Just wait."

Before she could respond, he pulled a small black notebook from his back pocket. Gianna recognized it instantly, the familiar leather cover, the journal he'd trusted her with months ago. He handed it to her, a silent invitation to read once again. She slowly took it from him and sank back into the chair across from him.

She deserves someone without a past like mine, not a guy grappling with shadows every night. Every smile she gives me feels like a reminder that I'm not the man she thinks she loves. It's selfish to keep her tethered to me. The whole world knows she's too good for me. She deserves better. I've tried to shake this for too long and there's a reason I can't.

I know what I have to do.

Watching her laugh should've been enough to change my mind, but it wasn't. It just intensified the guilt that she's wasting her joy on me. How did it come to this? I need to set her free from my chaos, my mess. She is sunshine and I'm the darkest fucking cloud in the sky.

She knows something is wrong. I can see it in her eyes. I just don't know how to end the best thing that's ever happened to me. Dragging it out isn't fair. She can feel me pulling away. I guess part of me hopes that will make it easier when it ends.

I can't wait any longer. It isn't fair to her. It's killing me.

It's over. It's done. I will never forget the pain in her eyes.

I feel like I just lost half of me. I feel like I'm half alive.

At least she's finally free.

The compound is too quiet. The silence is a constant reminder of what's missing. Everyone feels it. She brought color to this place, and now it's gone. I don't know if I wish I never felt it or if I'm glad I got the time that I did.

I hope her world is still colorful.

Her absence is killing me. The loneliness is like a weight I can't shake off. I keep reminding myself it's for her happiness, but this empty bed and quiet room is haunting me. I wake up from nightmares and wish she was there to talk me down. I lie awake at night and convince myself I can still hear her breathing, she's still asleep next to me.

Then I wake up. A new nightmare. One where she's gone and it's all my fault.

She's moving on. The pictures say it all. Laughing, beautiful, happy. Living, a life without me. It stings, but it's what I wanted for her. Fuck, seeing it hurts more than I expected.

This is what was supposed to happen. She's happy and that's what matters.

Her late-night performance. I swear she saw me through the screen. Her voice, her face – it's a comfort and a torture. I thought she was happy, told myself she was happy. She looks as haunted as I feel. She looks…colorless. She's angry and it's all my fault. I broke the one person who I never saw without a smile on her face.

If she doesn't smile again, I will never forgive myself.

I'm running out of things to tell myself. It isn't getting any easier. I just hope that somewhere, in some universe, we made it. I hope that some version of me deserves her and that we made it.

Silent tears traced a path down Gianna's face as she finished the last page. As she looked up, her eyes met Bucky's. He reached for her hand, a silent invitation. She took it, feeling him tug her towards him. As she hesitated, mindful of the fresh wounds all over his body, he reassured her with a crooked smile.

"You could never hurt me," he whispered.

Gianna relented, allowing him to pull her closer. He guided her gently onto his lap, closing all the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and the dam of emotions she had held back broke. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, "I missed you so much. I couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about you. Every second, every day. I miss you, I need you, I can't do it without you."

Bucky's grip tightened on her back, and he murmured into her neck, "I've been in agony since you left." He held her in silence for a few moments, feeling her small frame shake with sobs. The guilt of knowing he caused them battled with the joy that she was in his arms again. "I'm sorry. G, I'm so, so sorry." He stroked her hair as he mumbled apologies over and over, knowing they'd never come close to expressing his remorse. "So fucking sorry."

When she finally pulled back, her tear-streaked face held a resolve. "Never leave me again," she demanded. "Ever."

He met her gaze with a seriousness that matched hers. "You better mean it. Once you say those words, I'm never letting go of you again."

She leaned forward, gently resting her hands on his cheeks as she leaned close and pressed the softest kiss to his swollen lips. "I mean it," she whispered.