Going down to DC has been a much easier prospect ever since she bought the condo and had it furnished (and adapted) to her specifications. It gives them a place to settle that isn't the hotel; a place that's theirs, that feels like home. There are cat toys and a tree for Alpine and dog toys for the little gray bully who'd moved directly into their hearts and home, and it's lighter and airier than the Brooklyn apartment but feels just as much like home.

Because he's there. That's the secret ingredient.

She wakes up slow, light diffused through the white linen shades she'd had installed in their bedroom, and rolls over to find Bucky's side of the bed still warm but rumpled and empty.

A deep breath in, and she rubs at her eyes, stretching over the bed to eye the door and the sounds beyond it. "Baby?" she calls. Her voice is gritty with sleep, and she takes a second to clear it. "Are you heading out for a run?

She's been back in this decade now for months and months, just shy of a year, and she still has to laugh at herself when they drive into the city and she realizes it's not in black and white like all the photos she remembers. Of course it isn't — she's been in London and France and everywhere else the Howling Commandos and SSR were called — but for some reason Brooklyn, in her head, has always been sepia-toned or black and white. Removed from reality by time and subsequently categorized in her mind as almost fictional.

It certainly isn't that. This isn't the New York or the Brooklyn she knows — there are fewer skyscrapers, for one thing — but it's still a busy, vibrant city packed with people. And every damn one of them hasn't stopped celebrating yet.

"You realize you guys are going to have to be in the parade, right?" She directs it to Bucky as they're walking along the sidewalk, just a few days after arriving; one of the few times she's actually gotten to be alone with him. She and Aunt Peggy aren't roommates yet, they're still in the hotel, but her aunt has made it crystal clear that she's planning to keep a much sharper eye on the two of them now that they're back in the city.

It was cute, for about a day. But she's already starting to feel like she's going to explode if she doesn't get to be alone with him.

Getting Bucky to agree to the chip had been like pulling teeth, but he'd eventually given in. Neutering had been a whole other conversation, and she's still not sure he's totally on board with the idea. 

But agree to the chip he had, and an appointment had been made, and now she's waiting by the door of the apartment, checking the time as Bucky wrangles an unsuspecting Alpine. "Baby, do you need some help getting him in the carrier? We've got to get going."

Picking the vet had been a whole other adventure, but they'd finally settled on one nearby that had glowing reviews from multiple pet owners. Still, she thinks Bucky's more nervous about the whole idea than Alpine himself.

It's been almost two years since she's been home, and little by little, the grief has gotten easier to live with.

It hasn't gone away. But she's able to focus on her job, watch movies, chat with friends, sleep most nights. She still dreams about him, but the dreams are tinged with wistful longing and only sometimes does she wake up with tears on her cheeks. She can't have his picture out in this apartment, Kate's apartment, but it's safe in the mountain house, along with his last letter to her, and she has a scan on her phone to look at when the long day is over and she's in bed, the stars from the lamp he'd given her filling her dark room.

Steve has helped, more than she could ever explain, and she hopes she's helped him in return. Aside from a few deeply classified missions here and there, they haven't worked together all that much, but she still sees him almost every day. In the halls, she's undercover as his mild-mannered neighbor, Kate, but in her secure apartment they can talk over anything, everything.

And it works. Every day is a little easier. They lean on each other when they need to, and they spend hours remembering and reminiscing about Bucky, talking shop, chatting about how Steve's fitting into the future. It's nice. She still misses Bucky, an ache that never really goes away, but they can both breathe through it, work through it, live through it.

She's on her way up from the basement laundry machines when she hears a familiar step in the hall, and has to smile to herself – first her own, then Kate's sweeter, more open one. "Hey, neighbor."

It's been a little over a month since Bucky brought her to that training space and told her he was making good on his promise; a little longer since she's met Ayo for an hour a day to spar and train and meditate and learn. In that time, Shuri's updated her suit and Bucky's prototype arm, and Nakia's successfully launched the first of her outreach centers in the place where a young N'Jadaka had once had his whole world shattered.

Ayo prefers to train with her either early in the morning or late in the cool of the evening. Today was the latter, and steam is lifting off Sharon's shoulders as she walks back from the Citadel, her hair a sweat-damp mess in a ponytail, her muscles aching pleasantly. 

She's back on top. Between Bucky and Ayo, she's faster now than she ever has been; more adaptive, more thoughtful about her approach. She still can't beat Bucky one on one, but Ayo had tested her against Aneka, another Dora, recently, and she'd more than held her own. She's flexible and strong and her cardio hasn't been this good in years.

More than that, she's happy, the way Bucky wanted her to be. She has some direction, and that's all she really needed. What she'll do with it is the next step, but she's not quite there yet. For now, she strolls down the path toward the hut by the lake where she's been more or less living with him, the sunset light just now dying from the sky. She's so lost in her thoughts it takes her a second even to realize that there's a buzzing coming from the pocket of her tote bag.

And it's not like she was expecting a call, anyway. Who would it even be from?

Three days.

That's all they end up with. Two mornings after she'd run into Bucky in the halls and learned he'd be going on the mission that killed him in her time, she's standing with Aunt Peggy and Stark and Colonel Phillips to bid the team farewell and good hunting.

Her hands are clasped so tight together the very bones and tendons ache, but she keeps her expression as neutral as she can. She and Bucky have said everything there is to say, and this moment was always going to come. All she can do now is hope that he's prepared, that he'll find a way around what destiny has in store for him, that her presence here has changed the course of the future just a little, just enough to save one life. 

She can't save everyone. She knows that all too well from a life spent as an agent of SHIELD. But surely, surely, she can save just this one.

As promised, she updates Bucky throughout the evening, letting him know that no one's come for her... yet. Several hours after they left, she hears Steve return. She doesn't try to contact him; it would be strange for Kate to do so. Instead, she texts Bucky that he's back and that everything is quiet, then goes to bed and sleeps the sleep of an agent who has just spent the last week trying to put down a rising cartel.

Fury's not expecting her until mid-morning. She texts Bucky when she leaves for work, and is relieved to get a response. Seems Steve's contact is trustworthy after all.

She also sends a text to Nat, telling her she's cashing in on that offer of drinks, then dresses in a crisp blue button-down and neat pencil skirt and heads to the Triskelion to face her fate.

Her bruises from the fight with the Twelve Brothers hadn't been bad enough for her to ask for them to be healed, so her jaw and cheek and chest and arms are still dusted with purple and blue, now edging toward strange mustard yellow colors.

But it feels good. It feels right, the way hitting the tree had, the way hitting the center of that target had, the way sparring with the Jabari had. It all makes her feel more like herself.

And Agent Thirteen? She doesn't hang around waiting for someone to give her something to do.

She's kept from seeking out the Dora or their training grounds, but now, she makes her way to the wide plain where Ayo and Okoye are putting their soldiers through their paces. Evening is beginning to fall, and Sharon's timed her visit correctly – she hopes. If she's right, the session will be done in a few minutes, and Ayo will start making her way back towards the Citadel. 

She's hopeful the other woman will allow some company. She's not sure how else to ask what she needs to ask. But until then, she waits, watching patiently, as the Dora finish their practice.

There's nothing strange about Yvette Rheaume or the credentials she provides to Monsieur Lavigne when she arrives to replace Amelie. "Her mother is ill," Lavigne explains to the girl. "You will fill in for her duties until she returns, yes?"

Yes, of course. And it's a relief when the girl proves both capable and well-mannered; he simply cannot afford to force Herr Schneider to wait. If the facility were to cancel their monthly orders, he'd lose hundreds, thousands of francs in profit, money which assuages his guilt at assisting the enemy. He explains the process to the girl as they ride in a jeep towards the facility, and impresses on her the need for perfect discretion. "I will expect you to take clear and comprehensive notes," he reminds her. "We cannot miss any opportunity to re-supply."

"Yes, sir," she promises, and dutifully notes his instructions.

His ears are ringing by the time they reach the facility and Herr Schneider steps outside to greet them, his sharp eyes resting for a moment on Yvette. "Who is this lovely creature?" he asks, and Lavigne hastens to assure him of her loyalty and credentials. The German nods and politely ushers them inside. Lavigne is too relieved and too focused on the robust order to come to pay much mind to the way the man keeps half an eye on Yvette.

But she doesn't miss it. Not a single glance.