The first time it happened, you brushed it off as a coincidence. The second time, you thought it was just habit—some residual programming making him track movement or keep an eye on potential threats. By the third time, when you turned a corner in the Golden City & nearly ran into Griffin Cross standing there as if he’d been waiting for you, you realized it was something else entirely.

He was always there. Not quite speaking, not quite engaging, but there.

Zara had laughed when you brought it up. “You should be honored,” she had teased, hands deep in holo-displays as she fine-tuned his neural recalibration. “The ghost of the Winter Soldier thinks you are worth haunting.”

It wasn’t funny. Not really.

When Griffin wasn’t in the lab, sitting still while Zara worked, he was near you—close enough to be noticed, but never quite in the way. He was quiet, watchful, present in a way that made it hard to believe he had spent decades as a phantom, a myth, a whispered warning.

Now, he was something in between. Not the weapon The Serpent Order had made him, but not quite the man Steve spoke about in the kind of reverent tone reserved for the dead.

And for some reason, he had attached himself to you.

Tonight, the air was cool, and the moon bathed Zenjari in silver light. You had stepped outside for some air, needing a break from the lab’s hum & Zara’s sharp intellect dissecting Griffin’s mind. And yet, when you turned, there he was—silent, watching, a question in his eyes that he hadn’t yet learned how to ask.

“You’re following me,” you said, more observation than accusation.

s shoulders shifted slightly, the only sign of discomfort. “Yeah.” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it much.

“Why?”

A long silence stretched between them. Finally, he exhaled through his nose, looking out at the dark horizon. “You feel... safe.”

Safe. The word settled between you, heavier than it should have been.

For so long, Griffin had been a danger—to himself, to others. And now, he had chosen you as something safe.