You paced relentlessly back and forth in the quiet of your chamber, footsteps echoing against the polished floor as you replayed last night's escape in your mind. It had been close—too close—and the memory of Anakin and Obi-Wan's haunting eyes still lingered, unsettling and sharp, like thorns caught under your skin. You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to shake off the thought, but it only made your worry more tangible, solid.

For the past hour, you'd been trying to reach Dr. Strange, your comm device buzzing at your fingertips as you attempted one call after another. Silence greeted each attempt. No response. No reassuring, sardonic voice on the other end. It was as if the lines to him were cut off, and the longer the silence stretched, the deeper your worry dug in. Dr. Strange had always been elusive, sure, but something about this absence felt different.

"What's going on?" you muttered, pressing your hands to your temples. If anyone could understand the dark forces converging around you, it was Stephen Strange. The arcane knowledge he held, his insight into realms beyond the Jedi's reach, was invaluable. You needed his counsel now more than ever.

You cast a glance toward the window, the first light of dawn creeping over the city skyline. The weight of your title and the responsibilities it held felt heavy, yet here you were, pacing like a caged animal. An unease nagged at you, the same intuition that had warned you of Anakin and Obi-Wan's intentions, of the council's doubts. A sense of being watched, of looming threats on all sides.

Turning sharply, you let out a frustrated sigh and clenched the comm device in your hand. You'd have to find another way to reach Strange. Until then, you were on your own.

You descended the stairs, the comforting, homey smell of sweet tea and warm pancakes filling the air as you entered the common room. The sight of Steve and Bucky, busy at work in the kitchen, brought a sense of peace you hadn't felt in days. After everything, they were here, your anchors, bringing a familiar warmth to the quiet morning.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of you with a smile, his voice warm and teasing. "Ah, the princess of beauty wakes up," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Come on, darling, it's food." He nodded to a plate he'd already set for you, stacked high with pancakes and a side of strawberry ham. You folded your arms over your chest, savoring the moment, and gave him a soft smile before settling into your seat and digging in.

The pancakes were warm, soft, with just the right hint of sweetness, and the strawberry ham was a perfect balance of flavors. As you took a sip of tea, you glanced around the room, the absence of your usual company lingering on your mind. "Where are the others?" you asked between bites, dabbing your lips with a napkin.

Bucky approached with a steaming cup of tea, setting it down before you with a gentle smile. "Out hunting for Dr. Strange, just like you told them to," he replied. You returned his smile, reaching out to place a soft kiss on his flesh hand. He hadn't yet gotten his metal arm back, but Tony had devised a solution—a sturdy prosthetic that worked surprisingly well. Bucky was adapting to it with his usual resilience, though you knew he missed the familiarity of his original arm.

As you sipped the tea, its warmth seeping through you, the tension you'd been carrying eased, if only for a moment. Here, with Steve and Bucky, you could let go of the endless worry. They were a reminder of what you were fighting for—this sense of belonging, this rare feeling of peace amidst the storm of responsibilities and dangers waiting beyond these walls.

But still, the thought of Dr. Strange lingered, gnawing at the back of your mind. You wondered where he was, and if he sensed the unease you'd been feeling. For now, though, you had company that kept the darkness at bay.

Steve watched you, his gaze as steady and compassionate as ever, and asked, his tone almost hesitant, "You miss Anakin and Obi-Wan, don't you?"

The question landed like a weight on your chest, and for a moment, you could hardly breathe. At the sound of their names, a shiver ran down your spine, memories flickering unbidden—Anakin's intense grip, Obi-Wan's unsettling gaze, both of them caught in that shadowed realm where darkness had touched their souls. You felt their touches still, like phantoms haunting your skin, lingering even now in the safety of this room.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. "I... I do," you replied, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It was a lie you felt you had to tell, an instinct to protect Steve and Bucky from the full truth. Admitting the reality of what Anakin and Obi-Wan had become—the strange obsession that had gripped them, that darkness creeping through their once-familiar eyes—was like pressing a blade to your own heart. They had been your friends once, a bond forged through years and trials, and to betray that memory with the truth felt like a deeper cut than you could bear.

Steve's gaze softened, his understanding almost painful, as though he sensed the turmoil beneath your surface. "I know it's hard," he said quietly. "They were a big part of your life. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering support without prying further.

You managed a small nod, glancing away to hide the glint of pain in your eyes. Part of you wished you could tell Steve and Bucky everything—that the Anakin and Obi-Wan you had known seemed to be slipping away, leaving strangers in their place, twisted by something beyond their control. But voicing that truth meant accepting it yourself, and perhaps even letting go of them in a way that felt irreversible.

You steadied yourself, taking another sip of tea. "I know I'll see them again," you murmured, more to reassure yourself than anyone else. But the weight of that promise felt uncertain now, hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

As you sat in the quiet of the common room, your thoughts drifted back to Anakin and Obi-Wan, the memories rising unbidden like ghosts. Deep down, you hoped they wouldn't come for you—that they would let you be. But a part of you knew that if they found you, they wouldn't hesitate to push you to the edge, perhaps even manipulate your mind to get what they wanted. A chill ran through you at the thought; it was a fear you hadn't dared speak aloud, not even to Steve and Bucky.

Yet despite it all, you couldn't quite believe Obi-Wan would ever go that far. His methods could be severe, his loyalty to the Jedi Order unwavering, but there had always been a line he refused to cross. That line had once made you feel safe in his presence. But Anakin... that was different. You knew him too well. There was a hunger in him, a depth of feeling he could never quite control, an intensity that bordered on dangerous, as if the dark side had found fertile soil within him long before anyone noticed.

Anakin had loved you. You'd sensed it in the way he lingered a heartbeat too long beside you, in the way his gaze would drift across the council chamber, finding you in a crowd as though pulled by a magnetic force. The connection between you had always been undeniable, but he had kept his feelings in check, outwardly loyal to the Jedi code. It was a silent pact between the two of you, unspoken but deeply felt. Yet, as time wore on, his restraint had frayed, and the intensity in his eyes had changed. It was no longer just longing; it was something darker, a possessiveness that hadn't been there before.

You'd catch him staring, his eyes tracking you across the room, even during council meetings, the weight of his gaze pressing against your skin. You had brushed it off at first, telling yourself it was harmless. But now, after those recent encounters, after seeing that shadowed look in his eyes, you couldn't ignore the truth. Anakin's feelings had grown beyond his control, warping into something more obsessive, something that frightened you more than you wanted to admit.

You glanced down at your hands, fingers curled around your cup of tea, grounding yourself in the warmth. It was a fragile tether to the present, a reminder of the safety you had here with Steve and Bucky. But the thought of Anakin and Obi-Wan—the threat they posed—lurked at the edges of your mind, a shadow that refused to dissipate. You could only hope that distance and time would cool their fervor, that they'd let you go before that darkness within them became irreversible.

Yet deep down, a part of you feared that hope was already lost.