You had been an Avenger once.

You had fought in battles that left cities in ruins, stood beside people who could level mountains, and watched friends vanish in the blink of an eye. You had survived it all, but survival came with a cost.

When the war was over, you walked away. No press conferences. No farewells. You disappeared into a small town far from the cities and the chaos, building a life that asked nothing of you except to live it quietly. For years, it worked.

Until today.

The sound of tires on gravel pulled you from the porch steps. A truck you knew too well rounded the bend. Sam Wilson at the wheel. Bucky Barnes beside him. And in the back, someone you didn’t recognize — younger, with sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.

You stayed where you were, arms folded.

Sam called your name like no time had passed, like your leaving had not been deliberate. You didn’t answer. Whatever had brought them here, you doubted it was something you wanted any part of.

The stranger’s gaze lingered, curious. You met it for a moment before turning your attention back to Sam, waiting for the explanation you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.