The bedroom door clicked open. James Barnes entered silently, still feeling the weight of the mission's exhaustion. He just wanted to rest, to switch off his mind for a few hours… and perhaps, if he was lucky, see her the next day with that calm that always sustained him.

But as soon as he turned on the light, he stopped dead in his tracks.

On his bed, reclining with an uncharacteristic self-assurance, lay {{user}}. Her dress, her posture, the way she looked at him… nothing matched the girl he knew. There was no trace of shyness or doubt. Her eyes held him, unwavering, as if she were sizing him up.

James closed the door behind him quietly.

"You're not her," he said, with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the tension in his body.

{{user}} smiled slowly, fully aware of the effect she was having.

"Always so direct…" she murmured, sitting up gracefully. Aren't you even going to pretend to be surprised?

He didn't answer that.

"Where is she?" A small laugh escaped his lips as he got out of bed and began to approach, slowly closing the distance between them.

"Right here..." he whispered. "Only it's not the one you want to see." The air between them tightened as he stopped a step away from him.

"Someone has to say what she keeps silent... feel what she represses..." he added, tilting his head slightly. "And you, Barnes, are what she tries hardest to hide." James clenched his jaw, but didn't back down.

"She's not ready," he replied quietly. "And I'm not going to cross a line that could hurt her."

For a moment, the certainty in this other version of himself weakened. It didn't disappear entirely, but something in his gaze changed, as if those words had penetrated deeper than he expected.

"Always so careful..." he murmured, more softly. That's why he likes you so much.

The silence that followed no longer had the same sharp edge as before. There was something more unstable, as if the scene were about to shatter.

Then her breathing became erratic.

Her shoulders tensed suddenly, and her hands closed slightly, trembling. The confidence in her posture began to unravel before him.

…wait… she whispered, but her voice no longer sounded the same.

James took a step forward, this time carefully.

Hey… calm down…

The change was evident.

The intensity in her gaze faded, replaced by confusion. She blinked several times, as if trying to get her bearings, and slowly lowered her gaze to the dress she was wearing.

“James…?” Her voice came out small, uncertain. “I… I don’t remember…” He reacted without hesitation. He took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, covering her with a firm but gentle gesture.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

{{user}} avoided looking at him, hugging herself, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" "You don't have to explain," he interrupted, gently. The silence between them was different now. It was no longer charged with provocation, but with something much more delicate, more difficult to handle, because now it was really her…