A/N: I swear, this story is NOT angst. I know it starts off angst like every other story I've written, but it is NOT angst!

i.

Skye pursed her lips and took a last look around the flat. She'll miss this flat when she leaves; the flat and it's noises, sharing the mug of hot chocolate with Bucky on cold days, pressing her cold feet to his warm skin and laughing at his half-hearted snarl. Not yet gone and she already missed it. Skye glanced at Bucky who only stood in the shadow of the hallway. His face was shadowed and despite that, she knew him well enough to read his posture. Even though he had regrets, he was not going to back down from the words he said last night.

"Tell me to stay and I will, tell me to leave and I will," she murmured the same line again, hoping he'd tell her that he regretted telling her to leave.

But he doesn't say anything, his posture still unwavering and tense. She clenched her sling bag, dry swallowing as she regards him for the last time.

"Good bye Bucky." She turned, not looking back. "I loved you," she whispered as the door slammed shut behind her. Blinking the hot tears back, Skye made her way down the stairs, hands trailing down the hallway.

She stopped just at the exit, head turning just enough to catch his silhouette in the window. Bucky was watching her leave, why? Why not come after her? Skye choked the burning emotion back and stilling her shuddering lips. Perhaps Captain America could answer her questions. Though he was often awkward around her, he always obliged her. She had to crash somewhere anyway. She could crash at Darcy's place.

Turning away, Skye walked down the city roads, not looking back though she desperately wanted to, her feet taking further and further away from the place she had lived for a year.

"Oh god! You're really here!" Darcy shrieks when she entered the labs. "I thought you were kidding when I answered the phone this morning. You know... half-awake and shit. I was like wtf? I did not just hear that the golden couple had broke up!"

Reaching over for one of the boxes, Darcy dumped one of them by a creaky looking machine.

"Ok. We're so going to talk at lunch then tequlia. It's Tequlia Thursday!" She checked her watch. "Just got to feed the scientists and we'll be off. Sit here!" She rambled a little more, hips swaying to the music.

Darcy's loudness had its perks. At least it distracted Skye from the thoughts of Bucky. Bucky who stood in the hallway watching her leave, not saying a single word. Bucky who watched her leave through the window. Skye palmed her eyes, leaning against a creaky machine and then the strangest feeling overcame her; the feeling of falling backwards and floating.

Darcy was running towards her and so was the three scientists, mouths opening and closing as though yelling but Skye heard nothing. The ground beneath her seemed to open up. There was a lump in her throat as she struggled to free herself, arms flailing trying to pull herself out as she sunk into the darkness.

Bucky!

And then nothing.

ii.

Her body lurched, convulsing as she woke to an unfamiliar room. Skye blinked blearily, hand caressing the blanket that covered her. Patchwork blankets. It had been an awfully long time since she had seen those. One of her foster homes used to have patchwork blankets and taught her how to make intricate ones, but she had never seen the need to. Patchwork blankets were a gift of love and Skye never had anyone to make them for. Except Bucky, her mind reminded her.

Where was she and how has she gotten here? It didn't seem like a place that Tony would have allowed existing in his giant monument to his dick of a tower. Small, dingy, the furnishings were well-worn and well-cared for.

We sure aren't in Kansas.

A lance of pain punched through her as she attempted to sit up and she groaned loudly, clutching her head and laid her head against her knees.

"Are you okay?" A very skinny young man asked, popping in. "Do you need water? Food?"

It took her several more moments before something struck Skye peculiar. The voice sounded familiar, very familiar. Despite the sharp agony, she forced her head to tilt her, catching the blue eyes and shock of blond hair.

He was Steve Rogers.

Skye had seen enough photos of pre-serum Steve Rogers to not ever mistake a very skinny man for him. He was fucking pre-serum Steve Rogers. Hand trembling, Skye pressed it against her clammy forehead, forcing herself to breathe deep breaths. Her heart leapt erratically against her ribs as the world seemed to spin in her vision.

"What did they do to you?" she croaked through her dry throat.

"It's called genetics, ma'am." He gave her a wry smile and handed her a cup. "My roommate would be getting back soon with some food. We don't have much but you look like you could do with some food."

"Steve?" A voice called out as the door slammed shut. A voice she would never mistake. "Steve are you there?" The room door swings open and he stares at her wide-eyed. "Steve? Why do you have a dame in your room?"

Bucky tilted his head at her with a large grin that Skye had never seen on him in the two years she was dating him. If pre-serum Steve wasn't enough of an indicator, the carelessness in Bucky's posture told her everything she needed to know.

She was in the past.