She smiled at him heartily. He confused her. He confused her because the thought of him made her want to embark on a quest to unravel him. He was an enigma. Because he was so different from what she assumed he'd be.

On the surface, he looked like he could take on the world. Tough as though he was trained to have no weaknesses at all.

But the longer she looked at him, the more he seemed like a lost broken man; so fragile he made her want to stigmatize everything, he made the world sound like a dastardly, manipulative, rotten little hellhole of an idea for letting everything happen to him. He felt delicate like a feathery dandelion, to a point where she thought that a single touch would make him crumble.

And like most fragile things, he was mesmerising to look at. Like porcelain dishes, like glass sculptures, absolutely magnetic. With his angular cheeks, his structured nose, his intense eyes. She could look at him all day, even though her legs felt stiff sitting on the carpet for so long, funnily enough. And then a thought crossed her mind.

"Oh, Mr. Barnes." She jolted forward with barely concealed excitement, "I wanted to introduce you to someone. Actually, you see, we're not alone here-"

Bucky's eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief, he couldn't possibly have missed the presence of another whole person in the living room. She knew he was alarmed by her statement so she quickly followed up on her words, "See there, by the fireplace. That's Winter."

Buckys head almost snapped in the direction, only sighing in quiet relief when a coat of white fur huddled in front of the fireplace caught his eye.

"Winter, come say hi." His fur was glorious and unbelievably clean but when the creature turned his head to face Bucky, then almost immediately shrugged the invitation off by turning towards the fireplace again, Bucky know that this dog was a snob.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. He's a bit shy around strangers. Actually he's against the whole idea of me bringing in a stranger. He's very protective, so he thinks of you as a, um, well -"

"Threat." Bucky looked down, pursing his lips together, giving her an understanding look. "Well, he's right. I am quite the monster-"

"No, no, NO, absolutely not. We certainly did NOT percieve you as a monster." She immediately cut him off mid sentence, "It's just that, well, you had long messy hair, and a messy beard and you were drenched, and covered in blood and injuries and also you had mud all over you. It's just, I was intimidated, that's all."

"Exactly." His lips twitched into a thin line momentarily as he shrugged, "a monster."

"Not a monster. All I saw was a scared little puppy." She folded her arms defensively.

"A puppy?" His eyebrows shot up in amusement.

"Yes. Actually that's how I met Winter actually. He's a rescue dog. I was an intern at an animal shelter back in Canada and we rescued him from a snowstorm. He was a puppy then."

His eyes travelled to the dog who was sitting in front of the fireplace, graceful and poised, quietly watching the flames cackle before him.

"I don't know what happened to him but he was very resentful when we first found him. He hated humans, actually. He was growling at the staff members and I was just a rookie then, so I was told to stay back. They said we needed to build trust before taking him but boy, was he angry? But when I saw his shivering little body on the cold bed of snow amidst the storm, something happened. Something pulled me towards him and I launched forward in one quick movement."

Bucky was listening very carefully and she took it as a sign to continue.

"So I extended my hands towards him. Even though I was strictly told not to, because well, scared dogs bite. But it all happened so quick, on an instinct, without sparing a thought. And he responded by coming closer and huddling up in my arms. And I still remember the magical moment, it was as though he chose me. I don't know why, I don't know why me of all people." She smiled, meeting his gaze again, "I still wonder. I wish I could ask him."

"I think I know." He just mumbled quietly, looking down at his feet, his hair threatening to fall into his eyes again.

"Hm? You do?" She threw him a curious glance.

"Well, he's winter and he's been out in the cold for a while. So it's natural he likes warmth. And you, you're - you're-" His cold blue eyes met her warm ones again, "You're June. You're every bit summer."

This caught her by surprise and her lips pressed into a thin line, she looked at him fondly, "summer?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds really strange or whatever but that's how my mother distinguished people. She thought Steve was like summer, and the person I used to be was like summer. My dad was winter. And now I'm winter, perhaps the coldest winter ever." He said with a small shrug, quietly watching his metal arm under the lighting.

"I know it doesn't make any sense at all. I didn't really get it back then either, I thought it was a load of crap." He shifted uneasily, "But the second I saw you-"

His blue eyes rose to meet hers again, "I just knew. It was just the first thing that came to my head, I was - stunned." He rubbed the nape of his neck nervously, "I'm sorry if that was creepy."

"It wasn't creepy. I think it's the best compliment ever." She smiled at him heartily.

This was a great progress. She was internally giddy that he had finally talked about himself and most importantly about his past. Because he carried such select few good memories and the rest was all screams and blood and tears.

By now Winter had left the fireplace and was already curled up in her lap.

"Now it would be nice if you ate, hm? I prepared dinner while you were out. Eat and then we can give you some medicines for your fever." She suggested, waiting for a response, "now I know you think that your immune system is strong, but I won't be satisfied until I do everything I can to help you."

"You really don't have to-" his weakness was evident from his low voice and there was no way she was letting him go.

She rolled her eyes, "I'll go set the table." As soon as she stood up to fetch the cart she had settled the dinner and the plates on, she felt a firm grim on her hand.

She turned around to look at Bucky, gripping her arm with his shaky hands as his long hair fell onto his face, "p-please- please. don't go. Yet- I mean-"

The look in his eyes was so sad, so broken, she could feel her stomach twist. "The voices, they'll come back. Please, please-"

Her heart clenched at the sight as she quickly kneeled down to hold his cheeks again. She was breaking her rule by using her powers again, but she had no choice.

She let out soothing waves radiate from her palms to calm him down again, and it seemed to do the job as she felt his tense, tightened jaw ease under her touch as he closed his eyes and sighed.

"You make it quiet." He leaned into her palms, warm against his cheeks.

At this point, she doubted even professional help could ease him because they could never understand the complexity of his mind. They did not have the ability to glance at his memories. She felt like she was the only one who could help him and the thought alone terrified her. Because using her powers terrified her.

But when she looked at the helpless state he was in, feverish, shivering, panicking; she felt something.

"I'm not leaving you." She smiled simply, "so be my friend?"

He looked at her questioningly, and she later thought it was a rather childish thing to say.

"Okay." He added, suddenly looking down, "thank you, June."

That welcoming smile never left her lips.

"Winter?" She then turned to the dog again, "would you be so kind as to-?" Bucky watched her as she pointed towards the food cart.

Bucky's eyebrows shot up when the dog strode gracefully towards the cart and the pushed it in their direction only to stop before his owner.

"Thank you." She smiled with a little bow and Winter returned to his place on the the soft rug again.

She set the dinner on the table. The mouth watering aroma wafted through the living room and Bucky couldn't believe his eyes when he looked at the dishes in their marvelous glory right before him.

"I present to you; baked chicken fingers with honey mustard dipping. Green chilli vermicelli and 40's soldiers' favourite coconut cream pie. Oh and grilled cheese sandwiches. It's a feast." She announced, slightly proud of her presentation skills.

She felt a little guilty, she had stolen a little snippet from his memories where his mother cooked him his favourite dishes on his birthday. She was not to blame though, he had such small and fleeting good memories that something like this was hard to ignore.

"Do you- you must cook for a living." Was all he said as he immediately dug in, and this was the first time she had seen him do something without hesitation.

She just shook her head as she fondly watched him eat to his fill, her bites being much slower and precise than his. It was fair to say he was eating rather voraciously, much like a kid. And that made her ponder over how long might it have been since he had a good homemade meal.