Bucky finally came back a few days after everything happened. We acted like it was normal, like nothing had changed. Mira never mentioned what she'd seen in the alley, never asked about it, and she showed no sign of telling Bucky.
When he opened the apartment door, she was already standing there like she knew he was coming. Maybe she heard his footsteps in the hall like I did.
The moment he stepped inside, she clung to his leg, climbing up him like a little monkey. He adjusted easily, letting her settle into his arms, safe against his chest.
He sank into the new couch with her still holding on and began venting. Sam. Walker. Zemo. The council members he'd helped. He told me how he'd handed Zemo over to the Wakandans instead of killing him.
That was disappointing. Now I had no way of reaching the bastard. If Zemo was in a Wakandan prison, I'd never be able to drag the truth out of him. It would've been easier if Bucky had just killed him, then I wouldn't have to wonder what he knew.
But Bucky was proud of himself. He said it showed restraint, that he fought against the Winter Soldier patterns and chose a better path.
That surprised me. Everything he said he'd done—I would've done the opposite. I would have crushed the Flag Smashers, killed Zemo, ignored the council entirely.
But him? He wanted to help people.
He told me he finally felt like he'd done something good. Like the weight he'd carried for decades had lightened, just a little.
That night, after Mira fell asleep, I couldn't close my eyes. My mind ran in circles over the last few weeks—what Bucky and I had said, what we hadn't said. The nights. The quiet moments. The feelings I couldn't ignore anymore.
I looked at Mira, peaceful in sleep. I'd tried to raise her right. And now, after everything, I realize—I don't want her to be like me.
I don't want her to stay calm in the face of death, to stand unshaken when people are killed in front of her.
I want her to be like Bucky.
Kind. Strong. Moral. Not a hero though, but just a good person.
Madripoor could never give her that. But here? Here she could have it.
Bucky can get her citizenship. Enroll her in school. Keep her safe. She could have a normal life with friends, birthday parties, school, maybe even college if she wants. A career. Maybe kids someday, if she chooses that.
But me? I'm too far gone for that.
If I stay, she'll learn from both of us. And I can't bear the thought of her learning to be like me.
Any sane person would say: Then change.
But I can't.
Bucky and I were both weapons once. But he walked out of the darkness. He chose to be better.
Me? I dove in headfirst and learned to breathe in blood.
Mira is still young. If I leave now, maybe she won't even remember me in a few years.
The thought breaks my heart.
I'd never again get to look into those ocean-blue eyes—hers, and his.
But I know what I have to do.
Carefully getting out of bed i pack only what I need, leaving my old burner flip phone on the nightstand, just in case she ever needs me.
I wrote a note and left it on the dresser. Then I jump from the bedroom window into the night, vanishing into the roar of New York.
Tears stream down my face as I walk deeper into the shadows—far enough that eventially i can't hear my daughter's heartbeat anymore.
The Note She Left
Bucky,I'm sorry.
I can't stay with you both. I've done too much, hurt too many people. There is no redemption for me.
Please, take care of our little girl. Give her the best life—she deserves that. Make sure she grows up happy, never knowing the pain we did.
Take care of yourself, too. I know you're afraid of what's still inside you. That the Winter Soldier might come back.
But he won't. I've seen it. You're more than that now.
You're a hero.
Thank you. For everything.
—Vivian