"I know you," Bucky repeated, more sure of himself this time. He edged into sight, hands up and spread in the universal gesture of non-aggression, but didn't come far enough into the light for her to get a good look at him.

He could see her just fine, though. And it was sending a swarm of memories slamming through him. "You were with the Commandos. Carter. You were his girl."

And she ought to be a hundred years old. Or, well, a thousand years, or whatever the hell time they were in. Bucky supposed if he could get pulled from one time, there was no reason Carter couldn't have been pulled from an even earlier one.