Steve turns off the shower. For a moment, she stands there, dripping water, hands on the knobs. She sighs, feeling it from her toes.

Then she steps out and grabs a towel.

She still has cuts and bruises from the fight with Tony littering her body. There's a bruise on her face, some scattered over her torso, a big one on her back. They're not as dark as they were a few hours ago, but they ache. Ever muscle aches, including her heart. Especially her heart.

Dropping the shield had almost been a relief. It was done. She's done. She is no longer Captain America.

She's not entirely sure how she feels about it. It seems as if her only purpose for years—both in the war and after waking up—has been to be Captain America. What does she have outside the Avengers? Nothing. Despite Sam's urging, she's never really found her place. It's been too easy to bury it all underneath the work.

Only now it's done, and there's no going back. Not to the Avengers, not to the job, not to anything. She is a man without a country, without a cause. Without the uniform or shield in a strange land, and the only person she has is the one she had almost come to accept she would never get back.

Steve finishes drying off, her movements slow and careful. She dresses, but leaves off her breast binder for now. Her body aches enough, and she wants to give it time to heal before binding herself back down. Some days, she doesn't know why she bothers with it. Since the info dump on the web, everyone knows anyway. Her gender identity has been the subject of talk shows, of panels, of internet forums. She's had to listen to people demanding she step down as Captain America, imploring her to think of the children. She's witnessed her gender identity become the subject of political debates, attack ads, and hashtags.

The whole world cares so much about something she hardly thinks about. Is she a man or a woman, they demanded to know.

"Neither" and "what does it matter" are unacceptable answers, so she has stopped answering. Instead, she continues doing what she always has: thinking of herself as 'she' and desiring everyone but a select few to call her 'he'. And, even then, she answers to whatever because, in the end, it doesn't matter to her.

Now, that's all in her past. She's no longer their problem or their punching bag.

Bucky is standing in the room T'Challa has given her. He's clean, hair damp, and he's dressed in a white tank top and pants. His feet are bare. He's at the window, looking out at the Wakanda skyline. For the first time since they'd been reunited, he seems peaceful. His face is serene, his shoulders relaxed, his body loose. It's like a weight has been lifted from him, and he can finally just be.

"Hey," Steve says softly, not wanting to startle him.

He turns. Runs his gaze over Steve's body, assessing the damage. They are cool and efficient at first, but darken as they take in each cut and bruise marring her skin. When he is done, his lips curl at the corners, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. It barely reaches his face.

She moves across the room to him. Goes to the window and faces him, back pressed against it. She crosses her arms over her chest and she does her own scan.

He looks so different. So haunted and sad. There are lines on his face that weren't there when she'd known him. A seriousness that was never characteristic of him. He's a different person.

And she's not sure she's ever going to get used to the facial hair. Back in the forties, Bucky had been so fastidious about shaving. Even when he'd only had a few hairs growing out. Even when they'd been on a mission in the middle of nowhere, it'd been the first thing he'd done every day. He'd always kept his face smooth and clean. This is so different.

She's not saying she doesn't like it. Just that she's not used to it.

"You okay?" she finally asks.

He lets out a long sigh and nods. "Yeah."

"Your arm's not… hurting?"

His lips twitch, and he shakes his head. "It's fine. Keep trying to move it, but it doesn't hurt."

She nods. "Good." Then she falls silent, not sure what to say. There's almost a century's worth of words between them, and she can't find the right one.

Bucky breaks the silence this time. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Feels like it. God, Steve, you lost everything."

She shakes her head. "It's nothing I wasn't going to lose. I wasn't going to sign those Accords, not the way they were presented. And with Peggy dying, I wasn't able to give any kind of counter argument. Not that it would have mattered. Not in three days." She shrugs and rubs her forehead. "I would have had to give up being Captain America anyway."

"Not like this." He sighs. "It would have been better for everyone if I'd just died when I fell from that train."

"Don't say that. If you had died, I'd have nothing right now."

"You'd have your friends. You'd have your team. You'd have your girl."

She shakes her head. "None of that matters."

"That's a lie."

Steve blinks and rethinks what she's said. "No, you're right. Of course they matter. I didn't mean that. But, Bucky, it doesn't…" She shakes her head. "I've been so lost since waking up. So angry. That's all I've been able to feel. Anger or… resignation. This isn't my world any more. I don't belong here. Then I found out you were still alive." She shrugs. "And I have a reason for being here."

Bucky rubs his hand over his face. "Don't put this on me, Steve. I'm not worth it."

Everything wells up in her. All the longing and love she's ever felt for him. The pain of their separation after he went to war. The terror she'd felt when she'd found out he was missing in action. The devastation when he'd fallen.

It overwhelms her and she can't speak. Can't say anything. So, she just steps into his space and presses their lips together.

It's awkward. It's a strange angle and their noses are mashed together. Then Bucky moves his head and opens his mouth, and it's right. A sharp, tingling runs down Steve's spine, and her arms tighten around him. She opens her mouth, and Bucky slides his tongue in. She can't help the moan that escapes. Her breath quickens. She runs her hands up and down his back, tugging at his shirt, stroking at skin. She needs more, and she's waited for this for so long. Over seventy years she's been waiting, frozen on ice, dreaming about what this would feel like, and now she has him in her arms and it's perfect.

And then, Bucky pulls back. Steps away.

"Bucky…"

"No. Steve, I…" He shakes his head and she can see his eyes are bright with tears. "I asked T'Challa if he could put me back on ice. He said yes. I'm going under later today. I just came to tell you."

The air leaves her in a rush. Her gut aches with the unexpected blow. "What?"

He shakes his head. "I'm a walking time bomb. Who knows where that code book went? Or, hell, maybe my trigger words were dumped with the rest of Hydra's intelligence and just haven't been decrypted yet. All I know is if someone says the right words to me, I'm just the Winter Soldier again. I'm not me."

"I won't let that happen."

"You can't make that promise, Steve! You can't." He takes another step back and swipes at his eyes. "I remember all of them. Every single person I killed while I was the soldier. I don't want to wake up one day and have another person in my head." He shrugs, a helpless expression on his face. "I don't want it to be you."

"You would never kill me. You didn't kill me, Bucky."

He holds up his hand, staving off her words. "Or maybe it won't be you, but what if it's one of your friends? Wilson or Sharon Carter or… or Stark. You'd never forgive…"

"I'd forgive you."

"Yourself, Steve," Bucky says, meeting her eyes. "You'd never forgive yourself for letting it happen. If you don't let me do this, that's what it's going to feel like. Like you let it happen." He looks at her pleadingly. "Don't let it happen. Please, let me sleep."

She can't argue with him. He's right. He's right, and she knows it, and she has to let him do this. To let him go, and she can't breathe. Her heart feels like it's been squeezed to pulp.

"I'll look for a way to deprogram you," she chokes out. "You won't have to be asleep for long."

Bucky lets out a long breath. His body relaxes and he nods. "Thank you."

She moves closer to him. "Does it have to be now? Can't it… can't it wait? At least until tomorrow?" She slides her hands over his chest. Over his shoulders and to his neck. Once again, she presses her mouth against Bucky's.

He kisses her back, but briefly before he pulls away. "I can't."

Oh, God. Of all the things she has imagined that Hydra had done to him, she's never considered they'd do that. "Bucky," she says. She's not sure where to look, so she focuses on her hand on his chest "I'm sorry."

"No," he says scornfully. "I didn't mean… I can. But I can't. Not with you."

She goes hot with embarrassment and steps away, arms crossed over her chest. She can't believe she'd been so wrong. After all these years, all those times when she'd wanted…. and then she'd thought that maybe he felt the same way. That maybe it wasn't just her and her malfunctioning heart making things up, and…

"No," Bucky says. He grabs her around the waist and pulls her to him. Kisses her, long and desperately. Kisses her until her head is spinning and she's short of breath and hot and flushed for reasons far from embarrassment. "I want you," he whispers against her mouth. "I love you. I do, I love you, Steve. I always have. But I can't… It'd feel too much like I was being forgiven."

She places her hand on his cheek. "You have nothing you need to be forgiven for."

He shakes his head. "Let me…. Let me have something to look forward to when I wake up. Because I don't think I'll be able to do what I need to if we…"

She sniffs, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. After everything she's lost, she never thought she'd feel this way again. Like she's on the brink of losing everything all over again.

"Hey." Bucky wipes away a tear. "Steve, you'll find a way to fix me. I have no doubt about that." He pulls away and smiles at her. "I probably won't even be under a month before you figure something out. You'll sort through all the Hydra stuff and find something."

"Bucky…"

"Steve."

She sighs. Closes her eyes and nods. "Yeah. No problem, Buck. I'll find a way."

"Good." He wipes another tear away and cups her cheek. Leans close and kisses her once again, softly, just the press of lips on lips. "I'm counting on you, Steve. Don't make me wait too long." He rests their foreheads together.

"Don't worry, Bucky. I won't let you down."