What I want doesn't matter.

The words tremble on his lips, but they don't fall. She's already said it matters to her; he can't tell her it doesn't.

And while weapons aren't allowed to want, he's not only a weapon any longer.

"I..." For a sick, sinking moment his throat locks up and he's not sure he'll be able to say anything at all. Bucky makes himself breathe, slow and steady and deliberate, and looks down at her as he answers her question.

"If I could. I would want a chance. To try."