Bucky was pacing the room, hands flexing at his sides, jaw tight. His mind was everywhere. How could she still be alive? How could she be here—after a hundred years? It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be.

He didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind him, too caught up in the storm of thoughts and memories crashing through him.

Steve’s hand landed gently on his shoulder.

Bucky flinched hard, instinct taking over. He turned fast, eyes wild, until they met Steve’s steady gaze.

“Is she okay?” he asked, voice barely holding together—more breath than words.

Steve gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Doctors said it went smooth. They got the implant out.”

Bucky didn’t even nod back—he was already moving. Boots thudding against the hallway floor, heart pounding harder with every step. When he reached the med room and saw you lying there, something in him cracked wide open.

His chest tightened. His stomach dropped.

“A hundred years… and you still look the same,” he whispered under his breath, almost like he didn’t trust the moment to be real.

He walked over slowly, cautiously, like you might disappear if he moved too fast. He took your hand—cold, but warm enough—and held it gently in his calloused one.

His expression softened, his breath catching as old memories flickered behind his eyes. For a second, he wasn’t a soldier, or a ghost from another time—he was just yours.

“{{user}}…? Can you hear me?” he said softly, just for you.