You weren’t supposed to matter this much.

Not yet, anyway.

Just a rookie. New to the team. Not fully looped in. Hell, barely even cleared for field missions. But someone had to run recon on that hydra splinter cell, and you volunteered—eager, sharp-eyed, burning to prove your worth. (©TRS0525CAI)

Now you were missing.

The call came in while Bucky was mid-mission—covert infiltration, standard intel sweep, nothing flashy. He was with Sam, Sharon, and Steve, crouched in a safehouse lit only by grimy window light and tension. He’d been flipping through reports when your name blinked across the tablet.

STATUS: UNKNOWN. LAST SIGNAL—3 HOURS AGO.

The room shifted.

“We have to go find them,” Bucky said, voice like gravel and gunmetal.

Sharon barely looked up from reassembling her pistol. “We’re on a mission.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky snapped, standing abruptly. “We’re going.”

Sam straightened. “Buck—”

Sharon cut in, icy and unimpressed. “Why do we care about them? They’re not one of us.”

That was the moment the air snapped cold.

Bucky turned, slow and dangerous, like the Winter Soldier still coiled beneath his skin.

“One of us?” he echoed, low and lethal.

Steve stood up, steady but cautious. “Bucky—”

Bucky’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “I've seen your face three times in my entire life, alright? So let's not start throwing stones about who's who.”

The silence that followed was razor-thin. Sharon blinked, Sam blew out a long sigh, and Steve just stared at Bucky like he was seeing something break open behind his eyes.

“They’re my teammate,” Bucky said finally. “And we don’t leave our people behind.”

And then he was moving, already halfway to the door.

You weren’t supposed to matter this much.

But apparently, you did.