Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The elderly woman was sitting at Steve's desk in the administration office of the Avengers Compound, muttering to herself in what Tony was pretty sure sounded like Romanian when he entered the room looking for something. It gave him pause, seeing her sitting there, reading through a file he remembered Steve showing him on Barnes. Her hair was gray, up in a loose bun, and she was wearing a dark blue scrub top that had light blue, purple, and green peace symbols on it. "Um..."

She glanced up at him with surprisingly clear blue eyes, and he was taken aback by the anger being reflected back at him. "What?"

"Who are you?" Tony was pretty sure he'd never seen this lady before, so why was she mad at him?

She glared at him. "Someone whose brother deserved your consideration before you tried to kill him for something horrific that was not his fault, Stark."

Tony blinked, surprised. "Ma'am?"

She looked down at the file in her hands, at the pictures on the inside cover. "I waited seventy years, and didn't even know I was waiting for anything. And then Steve was found and I finally heard the story from him about how my brother died. Not the Army's white-washed version of 'he died on a mission,' but the truth of how it happened. I was proud of him, you know? Protecting people was what he did. Who he was. Even in the face of seeing a man who terrified him again, he still got on that train and did his job."

Tony slowly sank down in the chair opposite the desk and stared at her. "Who are you?"

"Me? Rebecca Barnes Proctor. Not that my name is actually important to you."

He blinked again. Now it made sense. "Oh."

"Imagine that. The infamous Anthony Stark. Speechless."

Tony rolled his eyes at her animosity. "If you're here to plead Barnes's case with me, I don't want to hear it."

Rebecca's eyes flashed at the challenge. "I wouldn't stoop that low, Mr. Stark. I simply wanted to tell you about him, because... well. I'd really like to see him at some point, and that means making him safe to be around others. Is it pleading? Not hardly."

Tony frowned at her. "What?"

She gazed at him for a long, long moment. "I have a grandchild who goes to M.I.T., who couldn't shut up about that pricey therapy tool you developed and showed off, while also showing off your own pain. Thinking about this whole mess, I can't help but wonder if that thing can be used to get post-hypnotic compliance triggers neutralized, so what happened to your parents at HYDRA's orders can never happen to anyone else again."

His eyes narrowed and he frowned at her. Of all the things he'd thought she'd say... "Old woman, I can and will kick you out-"

"No. You won't," she said as she rolled her eyes at him and turned the file so he could see it. "Does this look like someone who was doing things of his own will?"

Tony leaned closer to look at the file, at the picture of a very obviously on ice Winter Soldier in what had to be a cryo tank, and then at the smaller picture paperclipped to it... of a near-to-smiling Barnes in his uniform. He frowned and pulled the picture free to get a better look, and then read the back of it... 'June 1943. World Exposition of Tomorrow. Flushing Meadows, Queens, NY' He blinked at that in confusion for a moment, then looked at the picture again. "This isn't just any picture. This... this is from the '43 Expo. How'd they get this? And what would your brother have been doing at the Expo in uniform?" The difference between the man in this photo, the other photo in the file, and Barnes himself both at the Bundestag in Berlin and in that Siberian bunker... "Oh."

Rebecca sighed. "He was at the Expo with Steve on a double date and was shipping out the next day to England, Stark. And I'm simply providing you with another point of view on the matter, because, seriously, he should not have had to put himself on ice again. That's where he is right now, by the way. Cryofreeze. And if I ever found out how they got a candid of him like that, heads will roll."

Tony carefully clipped the photo back to the other one and looked at her again. "You've heard from Steve?"

"Of course. It was a very long, very intense letter from Yahweh only knows where, that made me want to slap you. I still might."

"He didn't tell me."

Rebecca sighed. "About?"

"My parents. HYDRA."

"Oh. On second thought..." She reached over and struck him hard on the arm. "Of course he didn't. His world got blown to smithereens in the middle of SHIELD falling down around his ears and nearly getting killed multiple times in the same week. Doesn't make it right, him not telling you anything, but... would you have believed a story about tragic and possible but unsubstantiated truth that started with 'an evil computer in a bunker at an abandoned military training facility in New Jersey told me?' I heard that story actually from Steve and Natasha and I nearly spit out the coffee I was drinking in disbelief."

Tony paused, rubbed his arm where she'd hit him. "Natasha knew?"

"What? Did you think Steve found out in a vacuum by himself? They were on the run and fact-finding together. So yes, Stark, Natasha knew. Knows. She actually knows the history of the Winter Soldier a little better than this file would state. He trained her, with her, during her time in the Red Room."

Tony frowned, filing that piece of information and wondering how this woman got that story out of the one of the most secretive women he knows. "Right. You're not helping his case, really, seeing as she ended up doing awful things for hire-" Rebecca hit him on the arm again. "Hey! Stop hitting me!"

She looked at him wryly. "You sold and manufactured and designed weapons for money, Stark. Glass houses."

"Old woman..." He took in just how angry she really was, and blinked. "Right."

"Also, I'm a nurse. I can do far worse than hit you on the arm. Like, say... restrain you six different ways using your tie and your shoe laces."

Tony frowned again, noting the present tense and not the past tense he would have otherwise expected. "You're still working? At your age?" What was she... ninety-something? Did they even allow medical people to work into old age like that?

Rebecca smiled at him, not unkindly. "Three days a week. Still driving, too. And you never ask a lady her age. Do that, and I'll lie and say I've been thirty-four since the seventies. Didn't see much point to retiring when I didn't feel old and didn't want to loaf around the house doing projects. Tried that once, the projects thing with nothing else to do because I took the month off. Didn't like it."

"So... you came here all the way from Brooklyn on your day off just to ask me a favor?"

"No. To see if you were worth the effort of inviting to family get-togethers. Favor-asking is extra, and I'm not doing that either."

"Family get-togethers? I'm not your family!"

Now Rebecca rolled her eyes at him and set a bundle of tied-together, yellowed envelopes on the desk in front of him. "My brother kept mentioning your father in his letters home. 'Howard Stark's here with the 107th!' Howard this, Howard that, 'Steve somehow got Howard Stark to fly him into Austria and save us,' and on and on. For two years. The parts that weren't redacted by the Army censors were interesting. So... yes. You kind of are. By association."

"What?"

"My brother liked science, Stark."

"He did?"

"Probably still does. Won't know for sure until no one wants to kill him for simply existing."

Tony winced. "I deserved that."

"Yes."

"You don't have to agree with me, you know."

Rebecca smiled again. "Consider yourself adopted. You'll fit right in."

"Mrs. Proctor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm in my forties. It's a bit late for adoption."

"Says who? I can adopt whomever I please into my family, no matter how screwed up they are." She handed him a paper with contact information on it that caused him to look at her funny. "And after all this... stuff I've heard about you, I took the liberty of researching some good psychiatrists who don't mind signing non-disclosure agreements. Those were the top five."

Tony continued to look at her funny. "You're giving me referrals to see a shrink?"

"Of course. The stuff I kept hearing, every time Steve or Natasha or Wanda called me, and then this mess with my brother that I haven't even gotten to talk to yet... it's good to have someone to jaw at that can help you put the pieces together, you know?"

Tony nodded slowly. He didn't like it, but she had a good point. Wait. Wanda? "Just how many Avengers do you know on a first name basis, Mrs. Proctor?"

She smiled again. "All but Thor and Vision, actually. And Mr. Fury says hello and to stop doing stupid things, including trusting idiot generals with dubious reputations."

Tony groaned under his breath. If she'd met everybody but Thor and Vision, why exactly was it the first time he was meeting her? For that matter, how was she in any kind of contact with Fury? It made no sense. He glanced down at the still-open KGB file, considered the man in the small photo... "As to your question about the B.A.R.F. system? It's possible. The system was designed to treat without being invasive. I'll look into it."

"Thank you. Also, you're invited to our Forth of July Picnic and Birthday Celebration."

"Huh?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Granted, the birthday part of it will be in absentia this year due to Steve being forced to go on the run for dumb reasons, but it's the principal of the thing." She motioned to the file. "Can I take this?"

Tony nodded and pulled a flashdrive out of his pocket, handed it to her. "Yes, and this is all the information on Barnes and what happened to him that I could find at the base in Siberia. It makes for very disturbing and upsetting reading. What do you want it for?"

"Because one of my grandchildren is a paralegal and another is a lawyer, and they both want to see their uncle sometime this century. That means a pardon, which means opening a knowledgeable dialogue with the President, which Steve was going to do, but he got waylaid. A lot."

"You... want to get him a pardon?"

"Yes. Also for you and your friend the Air Force Colonel to come to the picnic."

"And if I'm busy?"

She chuckled. "No excuses. And bring Miss Potts, too."

"We are on a break, Mrs. Proctor."

"What does being on a break have to do with attending a picnic together, hmmm?"

Tony sighed. "All right. Fine. I'll bring Rhodey and Pepper to your picnic. Should we be bringing anything?"

"Just yourselves."

He eyed her scrub top. "So do you wear peace symbols a lot?"

Rebecca glanced down at her outfit for a moment. "This? This was a gift from one of my grandchildren. Seemed appropriate to wear today." She nudged the bundle of letters toward him. "I want those back eventually."

"Why do you want me to read them?"

"Perspective is important, Mr. Stark."

Which was how Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy ended up at the Barnes-Proctor Forth of July Family Picnic (and Birthday Party in Absentia, it even said it on the banner), enjoying themselves thoroughly as they met various members of the clan.

Chapter Text

A/N: This story is like an onion. Layers. It was supposed to stay a viggie, but then I got reminded that I killed five ink pens getting here (and later six and seven), and it turns out... nope. Didn't want to stay a viggie. On-going plot bunny attack/ambush of awesome is on-going. (And the reason I expected this to stay a viggie? I was trying NOT to do what I did here and go full-on fix-it post-movie. Silly me.) Enjoy. :)

~*~*~*~

Four months ago...

It was well into his second day in the rural locality of Oymyakon when Tony started noticing the smaller, finer details of his surroundings. For instance: the medical clinic didn't just have diagrams of human anatomy, but also animal anatomy. He found it weird, but interesting at the same time. Partaking of his second bowl of Reindeer Meat Soup (it still needed salt, and what he wouldn't do for a burger and fries), he watched again as the doctor took inventory.

"Soup good?"

"If I say I'd rather have a burger, would you be offended, Doc?"

The doctor smiled. "No. Buns imported, though."

"That's..."

"Permafrost."

"Oh."

"Not insulted. Food here acquired taste."

He continued to eat his soup.

"Could be worse."

"Yeah?"

"Could have no Reindeer at all."

"Did you just make a joke?"

"You know what joke is now. Improvement."

"Doc!"

"What? Is true. You show up in armor. You need help getting out. Town tools useful. Is good joke, though not seem like one."

"Can you go get the rental counter guy? At least his sentences are complete ones."

The doctor chuckled. "He busy. Said arm you brought in fascinating."

In the end, he finished his soup and was ordered to take another nap. He was starting to hate it here a little less. Still wanted out of Siberia, though.

~*~*~*~

The rental counter guy looked up from his study of the prosthetic when Tony re-entered the shop, this time in the parka and borrowed clothes. "He's letting you walk around now. That's good."

"Here for the arm."

"You leaving yet?"

"No. Why?"

Counter guy smiled. "Then I'm not giving it back, yet. Go catch another nap, Mr. Stark. Besides... did you know this thing was booby trapped?"

Tony blinked. "No. It was?"

He nodded, pointed to two piles of devices. "Don't know what those do, but..."

Tony stared at the two piles for a long, long moment. Was it his imagination, or were those in the first pile remote-detonated explosives? "Somehow, that makes so much sense."

"It does?"

"Guy this came off of had been... used. Badly."

"Oh."

"Catalogue and label everything, okay?"

The counter guy nodded and Tony left the rental shack again, in desperate need of fresh air. Later, he would find that the counter guy labeled everything in his native tongue and FRIDAY would have to translate it.

Now...

He found her on the third floor of Maimonides Medical Center, sitting at a nursing station while intently typing in front of a computer screen and chewing on her lower lip in thought. Unlike when he'd first seen her, and then again at the party, she was wearing solid light blue scrubs and had a stethoscope hanging from her neck... a purple one. "So this is what you look like when you're where you're supposed to be and not breaking into places? Good to know."

Rebecca frowned at the sound of his voice and glanced away from the computer screen to look at him, then returned her attention to it as she continued typing. "If you're going for incognito, Anthony, lose the hat and the hood. You're inside and it makes you stand out."

He chuckled as he pulled the hood down. "My hat, my head."

"Hmm... and I didn't break into the NAF. I had permission to be there." She finished her typing, made the computer save everything, and then turned to him. "Nursing notes wait for no man or woman. Something you want?"

"You have a minute?"

She glanced over to another nurse, who was watching them covertly. "What do you think, Sheryl? Can we spare me for a bit?"

Sheryl smiled. "Sure. She's right, by the way, Mr. Stark. That is an awful disguise. The idea of a disguise is not be noticed. Everybody notices a man wearing a hoodie."

"I didn't come here to be insulted," he squinted at her name tag. "Nurse Connors."

She frowned at him. "If you can't take it, don't dish it out."

Tony paused, nodded. "Fair enough." He pulled a bundle out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Rebecca. "Thank you, by the way."

Rebecca smiled as she accepted the bundle of letters. "Did it help?"

"Some. Still mad at him, though."

Sheryl frowned again. "At who?"

Rebecca sighed long-sufferingly. "Oh, he has every right to be upset, Sheryl. Bad stuff happened. I simply provided another perspective on the matter."

Sheryl's gaze landed on the letters in her hands, noted how yellowed they were. "Are those what I think they are? I've seen you reading 'em before."

Rebecca nodded. "From 1944."

"Oh." She waved them off. "Go on. Go have your talk."

~*~*~*~*~

From the table he'd snagged in the hospital's cafeteria, he watched her cobble a meal together before joining him. He got a good look at what was on the tray, and frowned because... "I'm not all that hungry."

Rebecca smiled. "Well, I am. And I lived through the Depression. It's rude to eat in front of people and offer them nothing." She took a deep breath. "So... what can I do for you now that I'm not likely to be mean due to not eating right." He stared at her. "What? I get extra cranky when I don't eat. Less logical, too. Doesn't everybody?"

"Is that why you hit me twice?"

"No. You were saying stupid things and trying to rationalize your behavior based on the actions of others. Being a nurse, I know a thing or two about psychological processes. Also, I was already mad, and you startled me." She paused, watching him. "Not that you weren't correct about certain things. You were and had every right to be pissed off. It's just... most people don't go for attempted murder and assault in super armor."

Tony sighed. "Nothing I say will make it sound less grotesque, will it?"

"No." She picked at her salad, then looked at him again. "Did you enjoy the party?"

Tony nodded. "Certainly more enjoyable than spending the better part of eighty-five hours cooling off in the Sakha Republic." She stared at him blankly, fork half-way to her mouth. "They left me Zemo's snowmobile and a map with directions to the nearest settlement. Also, I'm pretty sure that town doctor of theirs in Oymyakon might also have been the town veterinarian."

Fork forgotten, she continued to stare at him. "Oh, you're kidding!"

He shook his head. "No. Never piss off both Captain America and the King of Wakanda... for you might get stuck in the back of beyond, on the worlds worst road trip." He watched as she set the fork down and dissolved into silent laughter. "What? It's not funny, Rebecca."

It took her a minute to stop laughing, and then she sobered. "Oh yes it is, Anthony! Not funny ha-ha, no, and really they shouldn't have, but did you cool off enough to realize why they would have done it?"

"After a while, yes. It was weird to feel wanted by people in the middle of nowhere."

"And how did you get out of Siberia?"

"Iceland Air." He smiled wryly. "No one else knows that, not even Pepper. I'd have had to arrest myself."

"That just sounds like an insufferable amount of paperwork."

"Steve said that, too," Tony said as he pulled a thick, padded envelope out of his other coat pocket. "This is for you, since you did make me think about it, in fact, right after Pepper did. It's information on the B.A.R.F. system. I looked into the compliance trigger thing for you, came out the other side with a maybe of weather or not it would work. I'd know more, but haven't gotten to examine the guy, more than visually mostly from a distance, the three or four times I saw him. From what I saw when Zemo triggered him in Berlin..." He shuddered. "No one deserves to be lost in their head like that. Not that way." Looking over her shoulder, he frowned at the young man sitting three tables away, wearing green pants and a black top with Micky Mouse Heads on it, reading a book and frequently glancing at them. On the way to the cafeteria, he hadn't seen anyone wear anything like that...

Rebecca frowned. "What do you mean?"

Dragging his attention back to her, Tony frowned for a moment, then handed her his eyelink glasses. "Put them on. Friday's going to show you the A/V footage from Berlin." Rebecca continued frowning, but did as he instructed. He watched as she took it all in, in utter silence, then took the glasses off and stared at them. "Sorry. I know it's not an easy thing to watch."

She shook her head and handed them back to him. "No, I needed to see. Any chance you'd show me some of the footage from Siberia?"

"No. Not ever showing that to you, as you already want to kick my butt. Pepper saw it and I was suddenly restricted to reading psychology articles... and for some reason, Friday wouldn't let me watch anything but Animal Planet or HGTV."

Rebecca stared at him again. "She can do that?"

"Until this, I didn't know she could, either. It's not so bad, though. Animal Planet has that show about Treehouses, and at least it gave me a break from politics." Suddenly remembering something, he fiddled with his watch and showed her a picture.

Rebecca frowned at it. "Nice cat. Cute."

Then he showed her another picture, this one of his mother holding the same cat, only it was wearing a bow and somewhat smaller than the other picture. "This is from November 1991. I wasn't home much during that time, so I didn't know Dad had gotten her a cat. College."

"I don't understand..."

Tony sighed and made it so both pictures displayed side by side. "This cat, the same one that my mother is holding, showed up mysteriously next to my bed the morning after the accident, in a cat carrier. At the time, I wondered if Jarvis had decided to play secret Santa and then never fessed up to it. Now... I wonder." He stared into the distance for a moment in thought. "And I remember seeing an odd shape in the back of the car in that video. About the right size and shape for a pet carrier."

Rebecca stared at the two pictures. "So you're saying..."

"That Barnes might have given me my mothers cat?" She looked at him funny. "You're right. It's ridiculous."

"Not necessarily. He loved cats. Ours looked like this one."

"What?"

She nodded to the pictures being displayed. "We had tabby cats, growing up. Made Steve sneeze like crazy, had a tendency to set off his asthma something fierce, sometimes." Rebecca glanced at him. "What was his reaction to the video?"

Tony took a deep breath, and showed her a third picture, this one of Barnes before he'd snapped. "About like that. Pepper made me look at this, and that's when I realized he might have been more horrified than it seemed at first blush. As if he'd just found out himself, who it was in that car."

Rebecca nodded again. "That's what Steve thought, too, in his letter. Amnesia isn't something to completely dismiss out of hand. You can know something, the barest details of it, without knowing all of it."

"Says the nurse."

"What? You've not dealt without a person who's had head trauma while on morphine? They ask the same questions repeatedly, and they tend not to retain any of the information, so it's a cycle of you answering them after they've already asked the questions sixteen times before, because they're back at square one every time. And... often they remember none of that when they're better."

"Oh. Now you're just making me feel guilty."

"Over?"

"Snapping the way I did."

She sighed. "Emotions never make sense, Stark. And, apparently, my brother might have given you a cat and likely doesn't remember it. Or even why. I'd say you're about even for things that make people feel guilty."

"Rebecca..."

"What? Just because the whole thing is tragic, doesn't mean there isn't humor in there somewhere. Cat. Snapping due to bad revelation on top of bad week when you're already anxiolytic... take your pick."

He blinked. "Anxiolytic?"

"You mean you weren't?" She gazed at him with raised eyebrows. "Because I think you were. And with what was going on, I don't blame you. Not at all. But the snapping thing..."

He rolled his eyes and glanced over at the guy who was still reading that book and glancing at them frequently. "You seem to have an admirer with your taste in clothes."

Rebecca turned and chuckled. "Mason, get your butt over here right now!" She turned back and rolled her eyes at him. "Would you believe the State Department is run by an idiot?"

"Huh?" Tony wondered as Mason joined them and blinked at the pictures, and Rebecca handed the second sandwich to him. "Who are you, kid?"

"He's my grand-nephew. Mason, this is Mr. Stark. Sit. Eat." She smiled at the confused expression on Tony's face as Mason pulled a chair over and sat down obligingly. "He's undercover from the CIA at the State Department, acting as part of the detail on me and my family, just in case my brother is stupid enough to actually show up on our doorsteps." She motioned to the scrub top with the Mickey Mouse Heads. "He wears things like this here so no one asks him to do anything medical, except for being the floor runner, since he is here when I am."

Tony stared at Mason. "You mean..."

"That General Ross ordered me to watch my Grand Aunt?" Mason asked. "Yes. None of us wanted to tell him he's an idiot, and so our entire detail team has coffee at Aunt Becca's house every Wednesday to discuss strategy. So far... let's just say that he's not reading the real reports because no one, not even his secretary, is on his side. He'd probably be the last person to know if Steve and Uncle James dropped by."

Tony chuckled. "Right. You wouldn't be the one who bought this woman a scrub top with peace symbols on it, would you?" Mason grinned. "You are! She doesn't come in peace, kid!"

Rebecca snorted in laughter. "Depends on your definition of peace. Also, you're the one who tried to kill my brother in a fit of somewhat understandable rage."

"And-"

"Try to rationalize, and you risk getting a very physical correction. Again."

Tony stared at her. "Huh?"

"You did not see my initial reaction to Steve's letter, Anthony."

He glanced at Mason. "How Bad?"

"She lost the English in her head for an hour," Mason told him soberly. "Miriam had to call me in from the detail to contain her and prevent her from actually flying to Germany and causing an international incident in her skunk scrubs. And she really was wearing the skunk scrubs. It would have been the cutest scary thing the JCTF has ever seen."

Tony frowned. "Germany?"

Rebecca nodded. "That's where the neghiob is, right? Zemo?"

"Oh. Yes. Still waiting for trial."

"He set my brother off with dangerous intent. He got people killed. Supposedly, all he wanted was revenge for Sokovia." She studied him for a moment, then looked at her grandnephew. "You have the manual?"

"In my locker."

"Go get it, please?" She watched him go, then returned her attention to Tony and looked at him thoughtfully. "Steve didn't mention your getting waylaid in Siberia in that letter of his."

"Would he have?"

"He knows better than to hide things from me, Stark. What he did mention was passing out due to having to stop you when Mr. T'Challa offered them a ride out of Siberia. Adrenaline can go only so far. Also, it had been a really bad week, what with the funeral before everything went to hell, and he hadn't been eating right. Did you see him eat in Berlin?"

Tony paused and thought about it. "No. Not even a meal supplement bar."

"And as much as I hate those things, what is his normal MO?"

"To... oh. Crap. You're trying to tell me something here, aren't you?"

"Yes. Remember how I said when I sat down that I get weird when I don't eat? Well... so does Steve. If he doesn't eat right, he gets a bit weird. You didn't see him eat, he told me he didn't eat enough for a week straight. Lots of physical activity? Injuries from fighting you?"

"And I tried to talk him into something he already wasn't going to sign and put my foot in my mouth."

"Exactly."

He gazed at her for a long, long moment. "So if it wasn't Steve leaving me a note in the snowmobile, then who did?"

"Certainly not James. Concussion. Also, he's left-handed. And was missing a left hand."

"You mean... I got a Siberian mini-vacation courtesy of the King of Wakanda because he thought I needed a time out?"

"Didn't you?"

"Apparently, because I didn't find that note odd until just this moment. The phrasing was off, just enough that..." Tony paused. "Damn."

"What?"

"I just realized that the handwriting didn't match between letters, as much as the phrasing didn't." He sighed, and didn't get to finish his thought about the situation because Mason came tearing back into the cafeteria, a thick binder under his arm. "You call that thing a manual?"

Rebecca laughed as she took it from Mason and he sat down again. She showed him the cover, which had 'Barnes Family Psych Manual' on it in big letters, followed by 'Read it, or risk Becca getting mad at you for idiotic things.' "This was actually Fran's medical assistant psych handbook that she made up from typing all her class notes. The kids pass it around, because they all know my stance on psychology and defensive mechanisms. Education is key, you know? The next thing on your reading list is this thing. We will be wanting it back, Anthony."

Tony glanced at Mason. "Why do you have it?"

"I'm on the detail, and Bill said something dumb during the weekly strategy session."

That caused Tony to chuckle. "So she really doesn't come in peace, then?"

"Not really, no. Nor is she sweet like a monkey, either," Mason told him. "Have you seen the Pink and Green Monkeys yet?"

"No."

"You'll love 'em."

Tony glanced at Rebecca with raise eyebrows. "Is everyone in your family crazy?"

"We have three Medical Transcriptionists, an MD studying psychology, another studying engineering, several mechanics, nurses, some accountants, and lawyers. Would do you think?"

"Ah." Suddenly, he had an idea. "Mason? Do you know if Ross types his own letters?"

"Lucinda doesn't do those for him, no."

Tony grinned and wiped the pictures away in lieu of a keyboard and screen display that was streaming lines of code. He did some midair typing, smiled. "There."

"What is all of that?" Rebecca wondered.

"A very specific computer virus. Took this long to get it exactly right, to make it untraceable, even with SHIELD software, and to be as annoying as possible for it to do what I want, how I want."

"Which is?"

"To annoy the daylights out of Ross, to raid and copy all the data on the State Department's computers" He smirked again, caught Mason's eye. "And to entertain Lucinda."

Rebecca frowned. "Who is Lucinda?"

"The Secretary of State's secretary. You'd like her. She went to college with Pepper."

Rebecca glanced at Mason to find him grinning. "And you're giving the State Department's computers an entertaining virus... why?"

"Because Ross wrote the Accords. The first draft, anyway. We need what he's got in order to get them nullified. Also, he's having you followed, even if the detail is on your side."

"Ah. Virus way, then. Just don't wreck the computers to the point that the State Department Employees don't get paid."

"Already thought of that... except for the one woman who gave me a guilt trip at MIT. That time out in Siberia was worth something after all. Had a lot of time to think things out."

"Huh?"

"Long story."

~*~*~*~*~

The secretary had just returned to her desk from getting a glass of water when she heard the oddest music coming from General Ross's office. She frowned, knowing he was in there writing up a report. Slowly, she stood up and went to check on him. She found him staring at his computer in confusion. "General?"

"Every time I go to type, it keeps playing that," he said slowly, eyes wide. Slowly, he reached to the keyboard just as the song ended and pressed a key. When that didn't set it off, he began again, only for it to start again. He frowned down at the keyboard and experimentally pressed one, the 'a'. It happened again. "Huh."

"Do you want me to call tech support, sir?"

He pressed another one, the 'c', and it happened again. And then the 't'... "Probably. I'm not going to get through this report on Captain America's actions if I can't use those letters without this awful song blaring at me!"

"You could just turn the speakers off, sir..."

"Didn't turn them on, Lucinda! This thing has a mind of it's own!"

Lucinda had to close the door again, lest he see her lose her composure to a fit of very physical laughter. She wondered if he actually recognized the melodic version of 'Star-Spangled Man with a Plan.'

~*~*~*~

In Wakanda, Steve Rogers gets a text message on his burner phone: Rogers, tell Barnes when you're finally able to defrost him that his sister is a terrifying know it all. I like her. Even if she gives homework and calls it "providing perspective."

Sam later finds him still laughing and doesn't get an explanation for a while...

~*~*~*~

A/N: When a certain two things were written, I had no idea I'd be using either for this. And then I started writing this, and suddenly Tony was talking about Oymyakon and a cat...

Translation from Romanian...

neghiob: "blockhead"

Tooniforms Heads Above The Rest: http://www.uniformadvantage.com/pag...ey-mouse-scrub-top.asp?1=1&navbar=3&frmcolor=

Chapter Text

A/N: It's been brought to my attention (repeatedly) that Rebecca is being mean to Tony. Well... yes. This is about emotional reality, not a utopia, he committed attempted murder and assault, she is building a relationship with him of sorts, and he is coming to terms with what he's done. Emotional fallout? Oh yes. Sometimes the road to emotional and mental health can be fraught with reminders, because recovery is not a straight line. It's an incredibly squiggly one. (And as for the political fallout: That's step #692. We're on #8.) Onward.

~*~*~*~

“There are friends, I think we can't imagine living without. People who are sisters to us, or brothers. Jimmy was one of those. I never thought I might have to go through life without him. I never thought he might be killed by a drunken driver or anything else. Who thinks about things like that when you're seventeen? If I had known ahead of time what was going to happen to him, I would have gone crazy. I guess I did go a little crazy. My Aunt Lo, who's a hospital psychiatrist, says grief travels a certain route-that if you could plot it out on a map you'd have a line that twists and weaves and eventually ends up near the point of departure. I say "near" because although you may survive the grief, you won't ever be exactly the same. It took me a long time to learn that, and sometimes the whole experience comes back on me and I have to learn it all over again.”
― Morgan Hackett (Say Goodnight, Gracie by Julie Reece Deever)

Two days post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

It was quiet in the hospital room at Columbia Medial Center when he awoke again. After getting settled in, after the long flight from Germany, it was all he could have done to keep his eyes open. How many hours ago was that, Rhodes wondered as he stared at the ceiling tiles, wondering if everything over the past week or so really happened or not. It just seemed so weird. Then a soft and indistinct mumbling voice reached him and he raised his head to find a familiar elderly woman, her now-gray shoulder length hair not up in a loose bun like it usually was, but down and held back by a braided pink and purple hair tie. It matched the... was she really wearing Elvis-themed scrubs? That threw him for a minute as he watched her methodically knit something with very green... army green... yarn, and continue to mumble under her breath. It took him several minutes to realize that she wasn't speaking English, either. Which was bad. Very bad.

When Steve had introduced him to this woman at the New Avengers Facility eight months ago, Rhodes had learned very quickly that she had an odd tendency to slip into Romanian in conversation, that swear words always got replaced. If she was mumbling to herself in Romanian, then how upset was she? For that matter, this wasn't her work place. That was in Brooklyn. "Rebecca?"

She ignored him for long moments, still muttering under her breath as she concentrated on the row she was working on. Once finished with the row, she looked up at him and he flinched as he got his answer for just how angry she was. "Cum a uita-te?"

Rhodes frowned at her. "Can you find the English?"

"Nu-i asa?"

"English, Rebecca. I don't speak Romanian."

"Adică acest lucru nu este?" She blinked at his bemused expression, returned her attention to the knitting, and took several deep breaths while launching into another row. He waited patiently through two complete rows on whatever project it was, wondering why THAT color of yarn, before she stopped again and looked at him. "Okay. Better?"

"Yes. You all right?"

"I should be asking you that question, Colonel."

"I'm not the one losing the English in my head for understandable reasons."

Rebecca took a deep breath, let it out. "How did he look?"

"Barnes?" He knew why she was asking, and he'd have done the same. No wonder she was so upset.

"Yes."

"Not that bad, actually, considering when I saw him the first time, Steve had just saved his butt from a really upset monarch... and German Special Forces. Not sure what he thought of the armor."

Rebecca chuckled suddenly. "Oh, Colonel!"

"What?"

"You do realize that the War Machine armor resembles a wearable tank, right?"

Rhodes rolled his eyes at her humor. She wasn't wrong, though. "Doesn't much look like an Abrams to me."

She chuckled again, then sobered. "And how was Steve, last you saw him?"

"Well enough to fly a jet."

"And Sam?"

"Fine."

"Wanda?"

"Also fine. You want details?"

She shook her head. "I know about Natasha, and Barton, and the other guy who was along for the ride whose name escapes me, if Romanoff told me what it was. And if you give me details, I have to start over. Slipping. Bad."

"You're not going to ask about Vision or Tony?"

Her expression darkened in another burst of anger. "No. Vision put you here, and Stark... I'll lose my English again."

Rhodes nodded, sort of understanding. He knew she didn't like Tony, in fact had refused outright to meet him, no matter how many times the subject had come up. Which was weird, but also her business. That she'd refused to meet Vision, on the other hand... that didn't make sense. "In Vision's defense, he was aiming for Sam's thrusters, to get him off my tail. Sam must have dodged... why are you glaring at me?"

"Foc prietenos idiotule!" She blinked at him for a moment, shook her head, blinked several more times, and took another deep breath. "Friendly fire. And you're an idiot."

"You're looking at it wrong."

"Am I? You traumatized a one year old by telling him to fire on a friend. He hit you instead, also his friend. Esti un idiot."

"We were trying-"

"Nu încercați să apere oricare dintre ea," she muttered as she blinked and returned to her yarn, effectively cutting him off. He watched as she furiously knit a row, then blinked at it in confusion and had to undo and then redo the row again.

"Was it off?"

"Da."

"You going to find the English again, or do I have to call a translator?"

"Mason este în clădire, suna pentru el, dacă vrei. S-ar putea să-l facă fard de obraz."

"Right." He was saved from trying again when the door opened to reveal Pepper, who entered and shut the door quietly. "Hi."

Rebecca glanced up at her, nodded to him. "Prințul nostru rănit este treaz."

Her hand on the chair next to the hospital bed he was laying in, Pepper frowned at Rebecca, then looked at him. "I'm going to guess that she's really mad?"

"Apparently I'm an idiot. How are you?"

"Tired," Pepper told him as she sat down and hazarded a glance at the upset woman in the Elvis scrubs sitting in the corner. "Rebecca?"

"Acest rând este concentrarea mea," Rebecca answered, without breaking her concentration. "Dă-mi un minut."

"Okay. We'll wait."

"Did she just say something about focus?"

"Sounded like it." Pepper turned to him, smiled. "I know better to ask how you are, but..."

He looked to where his feet were covered by the blanket. "Fine. Fabulous."

"Nici una din asta. Medicina poate face minuni."

Rhodes glanced at the hospital-issue nightstand, saw the vase, and pulled the flower out of it. He threw it at Rebecca, and she looked up at him in amusement, mid-row. "I can be sarcastic about this if I want to."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Yes, but medicine really has come a long way. You never know, you know?"

Pepper smiled. "How much time have you been spending around Mason? You're starting to sound like him."

"A lot. And not enough."

Rhodes nodded to Pepper. "All right. I get why she's here, but why are you? Isn't this Columbia?"

"I'm on the Avengers Emergency Call List for medical needs, and Dr. Cho won't be back from Seoul until tomorrow. The nice nurses here gave me the run-down of your injuries in lieu of her being here. That's also why I'm in here and not in the waiting room instead."

"Ah. What are you knitting?"

"A prayer shawl for James." She glanced down at her project, then back up at him, and grimaced. "Did you know that there were eleven or so guys in our neighborhood, all named James? To this day, I hear that name and immediately want to know what their nickname is so I'm not forced to think about him. And then their squad..." She frowned. "Falsworth! Morita! Do we count Dernier? Does French count?"

Rhodes chuckled. "Well, it's a good name. I'm glad to share it with James Barnes of Brooklyn, James Falsworth of the United Kingdom, Jacques Dernier of France, and James Morita of Fresno." She smiled briefly and some of the tension in the room dissipated. "Why a prayer shawl?"

"Keeps my hands busy. It's this, or I go make a nuisance of myself at the Nurses Station to see if they don't happen to need an extra set of helping hands."

"You... want to work?"

"I'm a nurse, Colonel. I practically lived in a hospital my entire working life. Still do, three days a week."

"So you're here..."

"To visit. Chastise. Be a friendly face in the face of this mess."

"You sound like my mother when she's got a chip on her shoulder."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She suddenly frowned again. "And where is Stark, anyway?"

"Why? Do you actually want to meet him for a change?"

She rolled her eyes at him, shook her head. "No. I ask because he is your friend and he's been nowhere to be seen since they flew you in."

Rhodes frowned in thought. "I haven't seen him since the MRI scan in Germany."

"Interesting."

Pepper motioned to the project. "How it coming? Looks a foot or so long."

"Great. Should be done by the time he turns up again or someone else tries to kill him."

Pepper glanced at him when he tapped her on the arm, and nodded at him. Oh, good. She understood, too. "Right. Green?"

"I considered bubblegum pink, but Mason talked me out of it, saying it was too girly for a former ghost assassin. So... Army OD Green it is."

"You're taking the former assassin thing really well," Pepper told her.

"No, I'm not. I was convinced Steve was delirious when he told me at first, and now... I can't change it. It's done. I either accept it, or... there's an or. Of bad things. You know what I mean. It's stupid, and I... I'm rambling."

Pepper sat back and looked at him. "And I haven't heard from Tony since just before that MIT presentation last week."

"Hmm... so if he's not here, and you've not talked to him, then where is he? If he's fallen off the grid in Nebraska this time, we'll have words when he gets back."

Rebecca frowned. "Nebraska?"

"That time when his house in Malibu got blown up," Rhodes explained. "He went missing for a bit."

"Oh. That. Well, then I hope he likes Nebraska. Plus, if he'd been here, you'd have woken to his lovely face instead."

"Some day, you are going to meet him and find out you like him," Rhodes told her. "He's not that bad."

"Be that as it may, that time is not now."

Pepper frowned and pulled a tablet out of the purse she'd been carrying, and accessed information from FRIDAY to read the activity log on Tony's on-person watch-link. "Huh... last location, helicopter leaving The Raft in the North Sea, and then... Siberia?"

"That's odd," Rebecca muttered as she concentrated on the prayer shawl again.

Rhodes shook his head. "No. If he went to The Raft, he had a reason. Steve said something about a doctor in Liepzig."

Pepper paused and glanced at him. "You don't know?"

"Huh?"

"About the framing."

Rebecca sighed. "No, he doesn't. Not about Zemo or the evidence. That came out yesterday while he was being transferred."

"Oh..."

Five weeks after that...

Out of the exoskeleton that Tony had been making him practice in, Rhodes wheeled himself into the Compound's administration office, looking to find where the man had gone... only to stop in the doorway when he saw Tony sitting at what was usually Steve's desk, with the absolute last person he expected him to be sitting with, holding a yellowed bundle. "Oh boy..."

"He's fine, Colonel. I didn't hurt him. Much."

Rhodes winced at her tone. "Well good, then. How are you, Rebecca?"

Tony turned and looked at him. "You know her?"

"Of course. Doesn't everybody who isn't you?"

"Rhodey!"

Rhodes looked at Rebecca to find her looking down at something on the desk with a deep frown, and wheeled himself closer to see. "Oh. That thing. You okay?"

"Toată această situație este o prostie."

"No, then."

Tony frowned. "Rhodey, I need an explanation now. First I find her in here, then she yells at me for attacking her brother, then she adopts me, and now apparently we're going to Steve's birthday party when he's not there? And how did she even get into the compound?"

"She's on the clearance list for medical. Rebecca?"

"Visit. You. The idiot here surprised me while I was waiting and reading this gunoi."

"Well, he's in one piece, so it couldn't have been too bad..." Rhodes smiled at Tony. "You're lucky she didn't have her cane."

"It's in the car."

"Do you have something against me?" Tony winced when Rebecca glared at him. "Other than that."

She smiled at him sweetly. "Not everyone worships the ground that the Stark name rests on, Anthony. Just because my brother liked your father, doesn't mean I have to like you. In fact, I don't. But I'm willing to at least try. That's worth something, yes?"

"I guess."

~*~*~*~

Next Update... Tony, Pepper, and THE TALK (No, the OTHER talk.)

A/N: My initial theory was that Rebecca had gotten permission from Fury to be at the compound... apparently not. **glares at plot bunnies**

Translation from Romanian (And there is a lot of it this chapter.)

cum a uita-te: "how did he look?"
nu-i asa ?: "Huh?"
adică acest lucru nu este ?: "You mean this isn't? (English)"
foc prietenos idiotule !: "Friendly fire, you idiot!"
esti un idiot: "you're an idiot"
nu încercați să apere oricare dintre ea: "Don't try to defend any of it."
Mason este în clădire, suna pentru el, dacă vrei. S-ar putea să-l facă fard de obraz.: "Mason is in the building. Call for him if you want. I might make him blush."
prințul nostru rănit este treaz: "Our injured prince is awake."
Acest rând este concentrarea mea: "This row is my focus."
dă-mi un minut: "Give me a minute."
Nici una din asta. Medicina poate face minuni.: "None of that. Medicine can do wonders."
toată această situație este o prostie: "This whole situation is stupid."
gunoi: dung

The Elvis Scrubs: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/99/ef/1c/99ef1c3bab1e368ca6d10e51fa12897f.jpg
(...one of three or four variations. I kid you not.)

Chapter Text

Still two days post Liepzig...

"No, he doesn't. Not about Zemo or the evidence. That came out yesterday while he was being transferred."

"Oh..." Pepper tapped something on the tablet's screen, then handed it to Rhodes. "Friday showed me that right about the time you were getting your MRI."

Rhodes frowned at the display of a dead man in a bathtub, a mask of Barnes's face, and wig. "Okay..."

"That man is the real United Nations Psychiatrist," Pepper explained. "And those things were found in the hotel room of the man who showed up to do the evaluation at the Bundestag in Berlin."

"Oh."

"And as for where Tony might be... I got an interesting anonymous message this morning that said not to worry, that he's fine and will be back in New York in a couple days. For some reason, the person who sent the message thought he needed a break, whatever that might actually mean." She frowned. "And it was too off to be from Steve, so we'll see."

"Wait. Are you telling me that Barnes was framed? Twice?"

"Yes," Rebecca told him. "Also put in danger by the Joint Counter Terrorism Task Force."

Rhodes glanced at Rebecca, noting how she'd returned to furiously knitting. "Then... oh God."

Pepper shook her head. "There will be time enough for recriminations, Rhodey."

"Steve tried to explain it in Liepzig, but... let's just say there was clashing and escalation, but Steve's not the one who escalated first."

Rebecca frowned. "Oh?"

"No." Rhodes shifted his gaze to the tablet. "Pepper, can I access the suit's audio and visual logs?" He blinked when a projected window popped up, showing his suit's POV of the intervention in Bucharest. "Rebecca? Look up. And thank you, FRIDAY."

Rebecca glanced up from her knitting project to find herself looking at... her brother, and Steve holding out his hand to calm him, as seen from in front and to the side. She stared at him. "Goodness. Pepper, I want that. Him, too, but I'll take a picture. Even if he looks mad. Not sure who looks more upset, there. Steve or James."

"I vote for the upset monarch," Rhodes told her, and the POV moved to show T'Challa, whom Rebecca could see very clearly did not look happy. "FRIDAY, move ahead in A/V log to Liepzig Airport. Play."

They watched the first minute or so of the confrontation, and then Rebecca winced as the shield got taken away. "Rhodes?"

"Yeah?"

"Who or what is that?"

"Still wondering."

"And where... oh. Oh Yahweh." She chuckled. "Did you forget about Steve being really good at tactics?"

"I wasn't in charge. And no. And the shrinking guy was an utter surprise."

She smiled. "Friday, stop footage. Show me James Barnes." The image jumped to the six of them standing in a line. "Stop. There. Zoom in on Steve and James." The image changed again to show Steve and Bucky, the latter looking somewhat nauseated. "Determination."

"Huh?" Rhodes wondered.

"James looks nauseated, a little bit, but Steve? He doesn't want to do what he's about to. But he will. He did." She chuckled. "And that has to be the best candid of both of them I've ever seen! Pepper...?"

Pepper smiled. "I'll see what I can do about getting you some pictures."

"Rhodes, do I want to know what happened after this?"

"Not really. I ended up giving Wanda a headache, Vision destroyed a control tower... FRIDAY, show Giant Man. Still Frame."

Rebecca laughed. "Distraction?"

"Very big distraction. And if I ever have to plan a war, I want Steve there."

The three of them paused, the magnitude of the situation hitting all of them anew, and Rebecca looked at Pepper. "I've got a family lawyer wading through the Accords book right now, and I waded through it myself before Mike did. Want to join forces with the Barnes Family Legal Team?"

Pepper nodded. "Yes. The sooner we solve this, the better."

"Great. I'll have them call your legal department."

Rhodes took a deep breath as pain started to make itself known, let it out, and remembering something, glanced furtively around the room. "Where is your shadow, anyway?"

Rebecca smiled. "Being your nurse's gopher. And that reminds me. Pepper, is it legal for the State Department to put a covert detail on my family? You know... when it's utterly unlikely for my brother to show up?"

"How do you know he wouldn't?"

Rebecca started another row. "Two years on the run, and he ends up in Bucharest instead."

"Oh."

"Not that I mind having Mason around, and the staff at the hospital love him, but... one of these days..."

"You're tired of having a shadow?"

"I'm tired of this mess that got even more complicated this week."

"Ah."

"And... no. I don't care that I'm bellyaching about it." She glanced up at the still, still being displayed of Giant Man, tilted her head in thought. "Play the beginning again." FRIDAY obliged, and they watched the exchange... "Stop, FRIDAY. Wrong tact."

Rhodes frowned at her. "Huh?"

"Bullying." She concentrated on the project in her hands again. "No wonder Steve has trouble and gets frustrated with that man."

Pepper frowned and had the AI play the footage again... "Stop." She turned to Rhodes. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tony. That tone in his voice, the set of his face, even from the side..."

"Pepper," Rebecca interrupted before Rhodes could answer. "He was anxiolytic. And might need an aspirin regimen. And should be medically checked out when he gets back from Nebraska."

Pepper paused. "What?"

"Natasha called and told me about Berlin and how he was acting. She mentioned that he complained about his left arm being numb, however random it seemed at the time. And you said he had some kind of heart trouble before, right?"

"Oh. Yes, he did. Does."

"Anxiety and angina go hand in hand. Stress only exacerbates the symptoms... and can apparently lead to an airport getting badly damaged if an idiot Secretary of State makes the wrong calls and adds pressure to an already problematic situation, squad of JSOC guys be damned." At their silence, she glanced up at them. "What?"

"How do you add anxiety and angina together and get... this?" Pepper wondered.

"Anxiety. Left arm numbness or tingling. Sense of impending doom. He showed two of those things while talking to Steve in that exchange, and all three of those are symptoms of angina. Heart issues."

Rhodes stared at her. "That actually explains a lot."

"Glad I could help." She stared at the row she was currently in the middle of. "I wonder... do this color and pink go together?"

"Still too girly," Pepper told her.

"Not if it's just the tassels. That's a manly amount of pink. Respectable. Besides, it's my project and Mason simply doesn't like pink. Not even mauve."

"Why?"

"Doctor Who."

Rhodes frowned again. "What does Doctor Who have to do with the color pink?"

"You'll have to ask him. I really have no idea."

"Why would Natasha call you," Pepper wondered.

"I told her to. Also, she wanted to apologize to me when there was nothing to apologize for. This... none of it is her fault, not even when it seemed like she could have gotten him out way back when but ran instead and saved her own life." Rebecca considered the shawl again. "Pink and light blue. Purple wouldn't work... definitely not yellow. Orange would clash badly. Not white. Maybe a lighter green? Oh! Pink and light green!"

"Rebecca," Pepper began. "Maybe-"

"I'm not going to rant about the unfairness of it all, Virginia, no matter how much I want to. If I start, Mason will have to translate, and I might make him blush." She glanced up at Rhodes, looked at him analytically...

"Right. So why would yellow and that shade of green clash?"

Still looking at Rhodes in concern, which was making him nervous, she laid the project in her lap and then tossed the extra roll of yarn that had been in a bag at her feet to Pepper. "Compare it to your shirt."

Rhodes suddenly chuckled at Pepper's expression as she held the yarn up to her yellow blouse. "Thank you, Rebecca!"

"My pleasure." She continued to look at him. "And you look like you could use a pain pill, Colonel."

"I'm fine. Had worse."

"Pepper, got get his nurse. He's not fine when he's that gray."

Pepper nodded and went to go get a nurse.

Chapter Text

Two weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

The letter was long, explanatory, and full of details that made her want to either hug or hit the writer of it... or both at the same time. Was it possible to hug and hit someone at the same time? And Tony had really given Steve THAT explanation for why she'd not been in Berlin? Seriously?

She raised her head and stared hard at the wall across from her desk for long minutes before doing what she should have done long before now and using her position as StarkIdustries CEO/COO to get into the Audio and Visual logs of Tony's Iron Man suit for the date in question mentioned in the letter. If Steve wanted her to see it that much, then she'd look.

Pepper watched the whole of the fight, and the lead in, and Zemo taunting them, and the assassination video in complete and utter silence before ordering FRIDAY to stop and staring at the wall again for several minutes. She was immediately glad that Rebecca hadn't been here with her, watching all of that.

It wasn't that she didn't understand why Tony would react like that. She did. It was more than that... "FRIDAY, location of Tony."

"Just returned from the New Avengers Facility after visiting with Colonel Rhodes," the AI answered.

Pepper took a deep breath and stood up. This distance between them that had been going on since before Ultron was going to stop. Today.

~*~*~*~*~

At a knock on the door frame of his bedroom, Tony flinched and looked up from the outdated phone in his hands to find Pepper staring at him. "Oh. Hi."

"Name a good reason for me not to figure out how to bring you up on charges involving the Geneva Convention and Prisoners of War," Pepper requested calmly.

Tony paused. "The Geneva Convention?"

"I watched your suit's A/V log. From Siberia."

He openly stared at her. "Pepper?"

"Still waiting for an answer, Tony."

"Steve lied to me."

Pepper frowned. "Jury's still out on weather or not it was a lie, and really... what does Steve lying about anything have to do with your behavior? Someone lying to you is not a good answer, or even a reason. It would not hold up in a court of law. It's an emotional answer, yes, but not a good one. Try again."

"If you saw the footage, then you know why."

"Tony. Dancing around the subject is beneath you. I need you to say it, or you will be brought up on as many charges as possible, in front of an actual judge, formally, that apply to this entire situation." She continued to stare at him. "And I'm asking you this because I love you. If Barnes's sister had seen what I did... let's just say she would have reacted violently. At you and not him."

"What sister?"

Pepper's eyes narrowed at him, and he winced. "We're not discussing that right now. We are talking about you. So... reasons. Yours."

Tony took a deep breath and he looked away from her. "He killed my mom. Dad..."

"And?"

"Isn't that enough?" At Pepper's answering silence, he risked looking at her again, only to find her still staring at him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

Pepper pulled a StarkPad out of the bag she'd been holding that he had disregarded, and showed him a still image of Barnes, from right before he'd snapped. "Does this look like a person who had wanted any part of it? At all?"

Tony stared at the still image of Barnes, at once noticing how upset the man appeared, finally seeing the raw emotion for what it was. "I didn't-"

"See it? No, of course not. You were upset. You were emotional. You... had just watched something no one should ever have to watch. But do you understand why I considered having you brought up on formal charges? This isn't just about your parents. Or you."

"Pepper..."

"Yes?"

He sat there, still staring at the frozen image of the man he wanted to blame, utterly, for what happened on a dark December night in 1991, wanting so much not to be having this conversation at all. In his mind's eye, he saw again the same face, but blank as first his mother took her last breath, and then as the surveillance camera had been destroyed by a single shot. Blinking, he was back in the present and he saw the difference. "He's different here. Not that blankness. It's..."

"Hmmm?"

"How can a person be the same person, but not the same person, at the same time? Steve tried explaining, but it still makes no sense."

"I heard. And I know that it sounds like utter garbage, the HYDRA controlling a person thing. Except..." She trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

Tony sighed. "Except that it's not garbage." He frowned. "Barnes has a sister? Living?"

Pepper smiled. "He had three. The one still living scares Steve spitless on a bad day."

"You've met her?"

"Of course."

"But... why haven't I? And why didn't anyone mention her?"

Pepper looked away from him for a moment in thought, then returned her gaze to him. "You know how Wanda initially really couldn't separate you from the way the public can perceive you?"

"Yes..."

"Rebecca has that problem. Also, I think she might have talked with Peggy Carter about your father... and you."

Tony frowned. "What?"

"She's ninety-two. That, and it was Rebecca, sitting in Rhodey's hospital room and aggressively knitting a prayer shawl while helping us figure out certain things about your behavior in Liepzig."

"My..."

"War Machine. A/V log. FRIDAY. Questions that needed to be asked but you didn't think of it."

Tony continued to frown. "What questions?"

"The fake psychiatrist, for one. For another: how did you end up heading to the North Sea to talk to Sam?"

"...oh."

"Didn't think of it?"

"No. And now I feel stupid."

She studied him. "How was Nebraska?"

"Nebraska?"

"Or where ever it was you went after Germany and Siberia."

It sounded so weird, her mentioning it like that, and he wanted to laugh. "Oh. Fine. Wanted out. Got ordered to sleep for two days straight, and questionable food that needed more salt. And I got my first wake up call." He pulled out a baggie full of little odd devices and handed them to her as she joined him on the bed.

"What are these?"

"FRIDAY, show Pepper the containment cell that they had Barnes in, in Berlin." Up from Tony's watch-link, popped an image of Bucky in the restraints, in the containment cell, inside the actual cell. "Those things in your hand are remote detonators. See how the restraints for his left arm are more complex than the ones for his right?"

Pepper squinted. "Yes..."

"Electricity. Everett Ross is lucky he didn't blow up his prisoner."

"So they were shocking him... to what, exactly?"

"To disable the arm. Containment. Might also explain how he was acting while Zemo was doing the evaluation that turned out not to be one."

"How so?"

"He was stoic and uncooperative, which didn't make much sense at the time. Thinking about it now, from the perspective of having been in captivity with HYDRA... now, I'm not so sure he was being stoic. Especially not if they'd had restraints like that..."

"Steve and those SHIELD van restraints he mentioned."

Tony blinked at the reminder. "Oh."

"Connections, Tony. Context. They're important." Pepper took one of the devices out of the bag to study it, then put it back in the bag and handed it back to him again. "FRIDAY, restrict Tony's personal internet access to psychology articles, emphasis on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Electro-Convulsive Therapy, and remind me later to make an appointment for him to see an actual doctor. Tomorrow, if possible."

Tony blinked at that. "Psychology articles? Doctor's appointment?"

"Funny thing about talking to a nurse... she goes all medical and says things that make sense. How's your arm?"

"My arm?" Tony winced again at Pepper's expression of incredulity. "Oh, right. Fine now. Why?"

"Natasha called in from the wind and spilled on you to a nurse, and I get to worry because I love you."

Tony glanced at the still image still being displayed on the StarkPad he'd set aside. "What made you watch the A/V log?"

"Steve sent me a letter," she admitted and pulled an envelope out of the bag that the StarkPad had been in, to show it to him. "He did a lot of explaining about the situation, took responsibility for setting you off when it's really not entirely his fault to start with, but he didn't know that. And... thinks we're good together. Is there a reason you told him that we're on a break, instead of what it actually is? Was it any of his business, Tony?"

Tony stared at the envelope in her hand, confused at how Steve would do that when the letter he himself had gotten was basically 'kiss my ass, but call me if you need me' without actually saying it. "I was trying to get him to consider the Accords."

"He mentioned that."

"You're mad."

"Only because you said things you should not have and tried to use me as a weapon when I myself would not have signed them. And that's a terrible reason."

"I... I..." Tony stopped trying to talk and stared at the far wall. "So much lately hasn't made much sense, you know?"

"Interesting answer."

"He wondered where you were in Berlin, too."

Pepper finally let herself touch him as she laid the StarkPad on her other side and quietly asked FRIDAY to stop displaying the image from the watch-link. She pulled him into her arms, and while he resisted minutely, he allowed it. It was going to be a long road to really trusting him with herself again, but even the shortest of journeys began with a small step. "I wish I could have met them. Met Howard and Maria."

"I wish you could have, too. They would have loved you."

"Tony..."

"What? It's true!" Something she'd said made him frown. "Geneva Convention? Pepper!"

She smiled. "I admit to having done some reading on the subject, which is one reason you are restricted to psychology articles, and the text of the Geneva Convention, for the time being. That, and you were probably at least part of the reason that Mr. Barnes had himself put in cryofreeze to protect everybody else."

That caused Tony to stop short in his thought process while relishing in her scent for the first time in far too long. "Cryofreeze? Why would Steve let-"

She shook her head. "Wasn't Steve's choice to make, and he was taking Peggy's long ago advice and allowing him the dignity of actually making a choice, even if he disagreed with it."

"Oh. Can I read that letter?"

"Later. Right now, I just want to sit here with you."

"You... smell good." Tony paused. "That didn't come out right." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "Not the hair, Pep!"

"Oh, I think it did, and I like your hair in all it's states."

He wanted to laugh at that, but didn't because something else occurred to him. "You remember the BARF system I showed off at the MIT presentation?"

"Hard not to remember that thing with the wacky acronym, yes, even if I missed the presentation. Why?"

Tony took a deep breath. "Still want to meet my parents?"

The embrace loosened so she could look at him oddly. "Come again?"

"You are worth getting an electromagnetic headache for, Pep. And I want you to meet them, even if it isn't actually them."

Pepper blinked, surprised. "Oh. Yes, yes I'd love to meet them."

Tony nodded and they lapsed into companionable silence for a long while.

Three weeks, three days post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

The doctor in Oymyakon was surprised to see him. "You back so soon?"

Tony smiled and handed him a StarkPad. "Had some things to do at a location near here, Doc. And that is to keep in touch, because I don't remember seeing a phone anywhere, and other ways can be traced." The doctor pointed to the wall behind him, and Tony turned to see an old-looking wall-hanging telephone. "Oh."

"But correct. Phone calls be traced. Eating right? Sleeping well?"

"Doc!"

"What? You show up here exhausted. Needed to sleep. Were bruised and battered, showed cardiac symptoms. Am doctor. I worry."

Tony sighed. "Yes, and I've been to a doctor at home, too. They were as concerned as you."

"Good. Need people look after you, you not doing it yourself."

"Doc..."

"Yes?"

"You got a recipe for that soup?"

"Of course. You didn't like it. Why want recipe? Why want contact?"

"I liked it here. After a fashion. And... it's nice to feel wanted. And what is your name, anyway? I didn't ask before."

The doctor smiled. "Elley."

Tony blinked. Somehow, this man did not strike him as an Elley.

Elley looked down at his armor-covered feet that were showing beneath the long parka. "Need help out of armor again?"

Tony laughed. "No, Doc."

"Good."

Five weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

Pepper was doing things at her desk when Tony entered her office and sat down heavily on the couch across from her desk. She looked up at him, frowned at how unsettled he seemed. "Was something wrong at the Compound?"

He blinked at her for a moment, shook his head. "Not... exactly."

"Oh?"

He sighed. "You said Barnes's sister scares Steve spitless on a bad day. You failed to mention that she has access to the NAF and that Steve would try to keep in contact with her from where ever he is."

Pepper felt her frown grow deeper. "You... met Rebecca?" She glanced at her desk calendar, noting what day it was of the week, and wondering how Rebecca would have gotten to the Compound on Mason's watch.

"If you can call meeting someone having everything thrown in my face and getting inadvertently adopted."

"In her case, I'd call that meeting her. How'd it go?"

"We're invited to-"

Pepper held up a hand to, stopping him. "We already were. I was going to introduce you to her with the family around. This idiocy with her refusing to meet you had gone on long enough."

"Huh?"

Pepper stood up and then joined him on the couch. "Did she have her cane?"

"No. What is it with you and Rhodey wondering if she had her cane or not? She didn't seem to need one."

"Usually, she doesn't. And I ask because she really could have assaulted you with it. Just because she's 92, doesn't mean she couldn't potentially kick your butt. And if Steve told her, then be glad all she did was verbally thrash you and invite you to the party."

He pulled a yellowed bundle out of his jacket pocket. "And she gave me these. Called it perspective."

Pepper blinked down at the bundle of letters. "Damn."

"What?"

"I have to call Miriam."

"Huh?"

"Those are from James, right?"

"How is he James to you? And yes."

"He's James to me, because he's James to her. Did she slip into Romanian while talking to you?"

Tony frowned. "Aside from when I walked in on her... actually, I only heard her do it once. She does that a lot?"

Pepper nodded. "The more upset she gets, the more likely it is that she slips between Romanian and English. Steve explained once that her mother was from a Romanian immigrant family, and Rebecca learned both concurrently."

Tony frowned again. "So I could have gotten yelled at in Romanian instead?"

"Aren't you glad you didn't?"

"If I say no, will you take offense?" He looked down at the letters in his hands. "And why do you have to call this Miriam?"

"To warn her that Rebecca let you borrow one of the only links she has to James. Those usually never leave her purse."

Tony stared at her. "She wants him back that much? No matter-"

"Tony. To her, he was dead. Steve was dead. Not just lost or on a vacation. Gone. Dead. It doesn't matter that now they're not. For seventy years... they were. Even if they weren't. So yes. She really wants him back that much, no matter what shape he's in, no matter what happened while he was missing in action. Family, Tony."

Tony was still frowning. "Wait. Does that also mean that Barnes speaks fluent Romanian?"

"He was in Bucharest. What do you think?"

"Oh." He motioned to the phone on her desk. "Make that call, Pep. And... I had no idea."

"New horizons?"

"Or something." He watched as she went to find her address book. "And if I hadn't walked in on her having a moment of swearing in her mother's native tongue, when would I have met her?"

"At the party under controlled circumstances." Pepper paused and looked at him, address book in hand. "You surprised her while she was... oh. You didn't know to back away and let her be. Why was she at the Compound?"

"To visit Rhodey... which I only found out when he came looking for me and found us. She didn't tell me."

Pepper felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of it, but didn't because laughing wouldn't help matters. "Playing to an audience. She's worked in medicine since the forties."

Tony paused. "An audience? I was the only one there!"

"And you... aren't one of her favorite people." Pepper picked up the phone after finding the number she wanted, dialed, and waited... "Miriam? Is Rebecca back yet? Well, when she does get in, know that she gave Mason the slip and went to the Compound to visit Rhodey and check on him. Yes. Problem is, while there, she met Tony by accident. And... exactly. No, he's fine. Shaken, but fine. I had to explain some things to him. And she gave him the letters to read... yes. Those letters... You're welcome. See you at the party." She hung the phone up and stared at it for a moment. "That is one house that I don't want to be at tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if Miriam gives her an extra Xanax and makes her sleep for ten yours."

Tony blinked. "Xanax?"

"She's got a tendency to go manic and she was pissed off about this whole situation before Bucharest, Tony. It was her decision to stay away from you, not ours."

Tony tilted his head in thought and took a deep breath. "FRIDAY, play the translation of what Rebecca said in Romanian when Rhodey found us."

"This whole situation is stupid."

Pepper blinked in surprise. "Well, she's not wrong..."

"Does she really have a grandkid that's going to MIT?"

"Probably. She has like thirty or more grand and great-grandkids. One of them is likely to be going to MIT."

"Also a fan of cool gadgets."

"Huh?"

"She asked about the BARF system. For Barnes."

"Oh." Pepper studied him. "So we have the whole conversation recorded?"

"Why? You want to listen to it?"

"Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I want to finish up here, and then have dinner with you. What do you think about Pizza?"

"Sounds good."

Pepper glanced again at the letters still in his hands. "Tony? When you give those back to her?"

"Yeah?"

"Do it at Maimonides. I'll give you her schedule."

"Why?"

She smiled. "Public place. Work. Professionalism. A place where you are not alone with her and Mason can intervene if need be."

Tony frowned at that. "I don't understand."

"You were completely alone with her, right?"

"I... yes."

Pepper motioned to the letters. "She didn't have to hold back and she was upset. Has been very upset. And... personal boundaries. If she's at work, she can't do what she did today."

"She threw the MIT presentation in my face."

"Things like that, yes."

"She's not usually like that, is she?"

"No."

"Do I get to meet her when she isn't?"

"You going to try to kill someone else or get someone injured in a friendly fire incident?"

Tony paused again. Friendly fire? "Not in my plans, no."

"Then yes. What do you want on your pizza?"

~*~*~*~*~

Miriam was having coffee at the kitchen table when Rebecca arrived home, withdrawn and using her cane for balance. That wasn't a good sign. "How was Rhodes?"

Rebecca blinked at her in confusion as she set her keys and purse on the counter by the phone. "How-"

"Miss Potts called me."

"Oh. He's fine."

"Did you leave Stark with any bruises?"

"Probably not."

"Good. Hungry?"

"Miriam..."

Miriam sighed. "How did you give Mason the slip?"

"Grocery shopping. Miriam, I'm not some teenager who broke curfew. Stop treating me like one."

Miriam sighed again, taking in the full extent of how tired she was, how she hadn't moved away from the counter and was leaning heavily on that cane. "No, you really aren't. Come over here and sit."

"No."

"Wasn't a request."

"Miriam..."

"I'm waiting. Patiently."

Slowly, with effort, Rebecca joined her at the table and sat down. Then she blinked at her tiredly. "You're mad at me."

"No. Concerned." Miriam motioned to the sandwich she'd made, and the glass of water, and the purple bottle of 5-HTP in front of Rebecca. "Eat and take your 5-HTP."

"Not hungry. Don't want it."

"Humor me."

She did.

Chapter Text

A/N: Because Present Steve is in Exile in an African nation (and having a laughing fit last we saw him, and also playing matchmaker from afar... Steve! Get a hobby! Knit! Collect Stamps! Something!), Flashback Steve has stepped in to fill the void.

~*~*~*~

Two and a half weeks post the Battle of New York...

He was having trouble not looking down every alley way and expecting to see a ghost pop out of the shadows. Which ghost in particular, he didn't know, but he stopped in his tracks when they got to a familiar, but still different street in Brooklyn. "I can't do this."

On either side, Pepper and Natasha grabbed his hands in reassuring grips, and Natasha peered up at him. "Why not?"

"Erskine died not far from here. About five blocks that way is the Navy Yard."

Natasha blinked. "Here?"

"Here. The buildings don't much look the same, exactly, but..." Steve turned and looked the other way down the street, behind Clint who appeared bored but interested. "And that way is or was the movie theater, which..." He paused and looked toward the alley they'd just passed. "Oh. Pepper, do we really have to do this today?"

Pepper sighed. "Yes, Steve. We have to do this today. Bruce has Tony distracted enough so he won't notice I'm gone, so it's possible. So... today. What's so important about that alley?"

His answer was full of emotion: "Bucky saved my butt. Again."

Pepper glanced at Natasha, who was frowning, and nodded. "All right. Then I'm glad he saved your butt. It's nice."

"Pepper!"

"What? You don't see the humor?"

"I just... this is hard."

"So is life, and you lived here."

Clint's voice joined in: "Yeah, Steve. It's hard, but if you can fight aliens, then you can show us Brooklyn."

"My knowledge is seventy years out of date."

"So? Brooklyn is still Brooklyn, no matter the year."

Steve rolled his eyes at the mild platitude, and on they walked.

~*~*~*~*~

They were still close to the Navy Yard, but out of DUMBO and passing houses, when Steve saw something that made him stop in his tracks and nearly caused Clint to crash into him. "Winifred?"

Natasha followed his stunned gaze to find a woman, significantly older, wearing a top that was black with red and green apples and green pants, carrying a sack to the trashcan, in front of a modest home. "Who is Winifred?"

"Bucky's mom. That woman sort of looks like her, only older."

Pepper glanced back at Clint to find him appearing as intrigued as she felt. "Well, then. Let's go say hello."

"No. She's-"

"She can hear you," the woman called out in an annoyed-sounding tone as she put the sack in the trashcan, then looked at them. Then she blinked, startled. "Oh. Hello."

"Winifred?" Steve asked again, still stuck on that thought.

"No. Winifred was my mother." She approached them, keen blue eyes taking in everything about the four of them before settling on Steve and frowning. "Have you called Peggy yet, Steve? She'll... no. Dementia. She'd probably be having an off day and not know you right off. Bad idea."

Steve blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh for pete's sake, you punk, come here!" And then she was hugging him and Steve was sent right into shock as he realized who this had to be... there were exactly two people in the world who called him a punk that way, and the other was dead. Bucky's other two sisters didn't... hadn't. "Welcome home!"

"Rebecca?"

"Who else would I be?" She pulled back and looked up at him critically. "When Peggy said that you'd come out the other side of the thing taller... wow."

Steve blinked down at her. "You..."

"Shocked beyond the telling of it, Steven."

"Oh."

"Also mad."

"You are?"

"You didn't think we'd want to hear from you?"

Pepper laughed just then and Rebecca glanced in her direction in question. "Sorry, Mrs..."

"Rebecca. Barnes Proctor. There's a reason he thinks I look like my mother."

Pepper blinked. "Oh."

"And hello, Miss Potts. What brings you four to Brooklyn?" She glanced up at Steve. "You saved a friend of a family friend who told one of the grandkids that they thought they saw Captain America looking very shell shocked after a scuffle in a bank during the battle. Or I'd be more shocked."

Steve stared at her, openly surprised. "Oh."

Clint chuckled. "That's the most convoluted way to find something like this out that I've ever heard."

"There are worse ways." Rebecca frowned, noticing how shocked Steve still was. "And worse things. Steve?"

"Huh?"

"How long since the Alps for you?"

He stared down at her, completely missing how his three companions all blinked at the same time in mute shock. "I think... two months? Two and a half? Happened in early February. I've been out of the ice a month."

"And you went into the ice in early March. Damn it. Inside. Now." She pushed him toward the house and beckoned the other three to follow.

~*~*~*~*~

Inside the house, Rebecca pointed him to a couch in the living room. "Sit. Miss Potts, kitchen. One of you other two..." She watched as Clint sat down on the couch beside Steve, who was still blinking in shock, nodded. "Good. Agent..."

"Natasha."

"Natasha, with me. Us. Kitchen." And then she swept the two of them into the kitchen with her. There, she turned and leaned against a counter, and looked them both in the eyes. "Obviously, you four didn't come to Brooklyn to visit me. And... did no one ask him? Two months?"

Pepper shook her head. "We didn't think to ask. Natasha?"

"Does explain why he got so mad at Tony, right when Loki's staff was messing with us," Natasha mused. At Rebecca's frown, she sighed. "Long story. Basically, Tony mouthed off and touched him on the shoulder, and Steve... reacted. Badly. So you are...?"

"The sister of Sergeant James Barnes," Rebecca told her. "Also probably the only person alive, aside from that young man on my couch currently in shock, who remembers Sarah."

"Who?" Pepper wondered.

"His mother. Nice, strong... Irish. Died in 1936. A nurse."

Pepper nodded. "Oh."

"Aunt Becca, why is there a strange couple," Miriam asked as she entered the kitchen, only to stop when she saw the three of them. "Oh. Quartet. Not couple. Who is the stunned-looking gorgeous blonde guy on the couch?"

"Steve Rogers. Why? Don't you recognize him?"

Miriam paused, backed up, and peeked into the living room. She stared for a long, long moment before joining them in the kitchen. "He looks cuter in color. I didn't know that was possible. What's with the thousand yard stare?"

"PTSD and grief reaction. It's two months-ish since the Alps for him. Maybe less. Probably less... he wasn't quite sure."

Miriam paused again, glanced at Pepper and Natasha, who were both looking at Rebecca in varying states of unease. "Oh. So this..."

"Is bad, yes. I almost want to give him a Xanax, but I'm not a doctor and I have no idea if it would affect him, since Peggy told me once that he couldn't get drunk after the experiment was a success. If you call being able to survive for seventy years in the ice a success. I'm not sure I do, right now."

Natasha frowned. "You mean he really can't?"

Rebecca shook her head. "No. He metabolizes things really fast. Speaking of which..." Here, she grabbed an apple from the counter and handed it to Miriam. "Get him to eat that. Tell him who you are first, though."

Miriam looked down at the fruit in her hand. "How does giving him an apple help?"

"Something to focus on."

"Oh. Good plan."

Rebecca watched her go, then looked at Pepper. "I can't go in there, or I really will slip and sound like my mother. He doesn't need to hear me speaking Romanian right now. Already traumatized."

Pepper blinked, startled. "Romanian?"

"He lived with us, until he and James..." She blinked, shook her head, and took a deep breath. "Until they moved into an apartment of their own, a year before the war, and James... got drafted in '39 into the National Guard. It's complicated. I'm not sure if he actually told Steve he was drafted or not."

"Oh. And the Romanian?"

"Around our house? As natural as breathing. And our mother taught it to him during his sick episodes when he was stuck in bed for weeks at a time. Though he's more likely to switch to Irish Gaelic."

Natasha frowned. "He was sick that much?"

"Often enough. Also shorter... and skinny. In fact..." Rebecca went to the bookcase on the far wall and pulled out a photo album, beckoned them to the table. She opened it, paged through the book for a minute or so, then smiled and showed them a small picture of Bucky and Steve together, on a street where clothes lines where strung from apartment window to apartment window. "We had a camera, Emma was a bit of a shutter-bug."

Natasha stared at the picture of a smiling Steve who was... the same, and yet not. "It changed him that much?"

Rebecca nodded as she sat down and they joined her. "Yes."

"I've seen pictures of Sergeant Barnes before," Pepper mused. "But never like that. They both look..."

"Happy?"

Pepper nodded. "Yes. And if I'd thought about it, Mrs. Proctor-"

"Rebecca," she corrected.

"Rebecca, if I'd thought about it or that he might need someone to talk to, I'd have asked him. It's just... there's been a lot going on and the world got invaded and..."

Rebecca chuckled. "There is that. And what's done is done. We can help him now, because he's here now." She took a deep breath. "You two look through that album some. I have a brother-by-choice whose butt I want to kick for getting himself frozen." And then she marched into the living room.

Pepper turned her attention to Natasha to find her staring at the pictures in confusion. "Natasha?"

"I'm picturing Barnes with long hair," she admitted after a moment, closing her eyes and leaning back. "But that's... impossible."

"What is?"

Natasha shook her head, eyes still closed. "Story for another time."

It would be a year and a half before Pepper heard part of that story from Natasha.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve stared at the apple in his hands for long moments before looking up at Miriam. "So you're..."

"Hazel's oldest granddaughter. Miriam," Miriam told him with a smile. "Can I sit?"

He nodded and Miriam sat down on the side that Clint wasn't occupying. "I..."

"Don't say you're sorry."

"Huh?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Steve."

Steve glanced at Clint to find him watching, and the man nodded in support. "But if I'd just been quicker-"

"Steve," Clint interrupted. "Don't do that to yourself. If I don't get to do it, then neither do you. Forces you can't control, man."

"Other blonde guy is correct," Miriam said cheekily.

Steve took a deep breath and studied the apple. "It's just... hard. I was fine. I-"

"Shut up," Rebecca said from the door to the kitchen. "You aren't. You weren't. You, according to Peggy, tried getting blind drunk and had to be talked down. So don't try that with us, Steven Grant. We know better. I know better."

Steve frowned at her. "How did you end up talking to Peggy?"

"She needed someone to talk to, stopped by in early '46 after the war ended, and we hit it off so well, we kept in touch."

"Oh. Then..."

"Oh, eat your apple, would you?"

"Not hungry, Becca."

"Don't care."

Steve studied her top. "Do you want me to eat it because you're a fan of apples or something?"

Rebecca stared at him for a moment, then looked down. "Oh. No, Steve. I want you to eat it because stress is hard under any circumstances, let alone like this. And don't knock the apples or familial humor."

"Huh?"

She smiled. "The grandchildren are in some kind of competition and have access to scrub catalogs, and it started with cartoon characters."

"Much to my dislike," Miriam complained.

Steve frowned. "Dislike?"

"Long story... and have you seen Barney or anything yet? If you have, you'd understand."

"Barney?"

Rebecca chuckled. "Miriam, you're just confusing him. Steve, imagine..." She paused, thinking back. "Steam Boat Willie. On repeat. Miriam had children, there's these new things called VCR's, and... when you get caught up, you'll understand. But we're not showing you Barney. I'm not even sure we have any left in this house."

Clint laughed. "But it would be funny if we did!"

"And who are you, sir?"

"Clint."

"Then hello, Mr. Clint." Rebecca shifted her gaze back to Steve to find him eating the apple. "Hungry?"

"Oddly yes," Steve admitted. "Becca, I-"

"Don't. Later. I want to hear about it, but not right now. It can wait, Steve." She watched him finish the apple, and then stare at the apple core before Miriam took it from him and disappeared into the kitchen.

Clint frowned. "Where are Pepper and Natasha?"

"Looking through a family album and discovering Steve's skinny and shorter self," Rebecca told him.

"Oh. There are albums?"

"There were cameras, Mr. Clint. Cameras aren't a new thing."

Steve blinked. "That's right. Emma and that Ensign Box. She loved that thing."

"Yes. She did."

"Ensign Box?" Clint wondered.

Rebecca smiled. "Small box of a camera, took good pictures."

"Oh."

"Becca?"

"Yes, Steve?"

"Emma? Hazel?"

Rebecca blinked at him, startled, then shook her head and joined him on the couch. "Emma... childbirth with her forth in '54. Hazel... 1989. Leukemia, prea târziu, când l-au prins."

Steve jumped at her slip, staring at her. "Really? I... should have been here. We both should have been here."

"Stop that. What's done is done. And you're here now."

"But..."

"Steve. Shut up."

"Okay."

Five weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

When Daniel arrived home, he found his wife on the couch, looking at what looked like one of the older albums. Frowning, he went over and looked to see... pictures of Steve and Bucky from the mid-thirties. "Miri?"

"Rebecca met Stark today," Miriam told him, her voice hollow and strained. It made him wince, hearing her like that.

"Oh God."

"Pretty much."

He joined her on the couch. "And the album?"

She shook her head and turned the page. "This situation... is it wrong to want to fight everybody for the sake of an elderly woman?"

"No," he said as he put his arm around her. "How is she?"

"Sleeping. Fed her and then put her, despite the protests, to bed. So far, no nightmares."

"It was that bad?"

"She gave the letters to a man she doesn't like, to read for perspective's sake."

"So... that bad."

"She was manic enough to end up at the Compound, and then crashed badly. So yes."

Daniel winced. "Oh."

They looked at pictures of times gone by for a long while.

~*~*~*~*~

Translation from Romanian

leukemia, prea târziu, când l-au prins.: "Leukemia, too late, when they caught it."

A/N: The camera in question was a 1925 Hougton, Ensign Focal Plane camera. It really did look like a box with a lens and a view-finder.

Chapter Text

It was quiet in the tower, six weeks after the fall of Shield, when Pepper found Natasha on the couch in her office with her head in her hands and having a rare moment of being visibly unsettled. Pepper frowned and moved to sit beside her, but did not touch her. They sat like that, in silence, until Natasha raised her head and looked at her, clearly upset and her eyes red. "Hi."

"Remember how I said it was impossible?"

Pepper continued to frown at her. "How what was impossible?"

"Sergeant Barnes with long hair. Long, unkempt, hair."

"Oh. Yes, I remember. Why?"

"Because it isn't. And I don't know where to start, or who to tell. Or even how. And Rebecca knows, because Steve's got a big mouth and told her when he was in the hospital."

Pepper took that in, nodded. "So they really are the same person?"

"I called him Yasha. I had no idea, until I saw that photo album, that my Yasha even had a family somewhere, and then... how could they be the same person, Pepper? And I don't know how to tell Rebecca any of it."

"Maybe you start right there, with who he was to you," Pepper offered. "Give her hope, instead of anything else. Yasha?"

Natasha shrugged. "Russian. For James. And even as blank as he was, no matter what they did to him, with me, he was kind of like a big brother. A really protective big brother. With guns and knives. That story about Steve getting his butt saved in an alley? I can see it."

"So... you know what they did?"

"Some of it. It wasn't very long, my time with him. And I hadn't seen him since Odessa, five years ago." Pepper frowned at her again, and Natasha shook her head. "Don't ask. It was bad."

"All right. Then I won't."

Five weeks and one day post the Battle of Liepzig...

In the morning, Miriam was surprised to find Rebecca on the telephone, speaking in rapid-fire Romanian. She listened for long minutes, eyebrows raised, until the older woman hung up the phone and looked at her. "Are you... you're getting Mason to arrange for someone at the State Department to pass around Get Well, Sympathy, and Birthday Cards, without telling any of them why?"

"Da."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Rebecca sighed. "We can't fix the mess already made, but we can help people know they're not alone. And later, I'm calling Shelbyville and asking the same thing of Kate."

"Are you going to tell them what it's for?"

"Yes and no. And we are rallying the Family Get Well Machine. Also birthday cards."

Miriam frowned. "Are you still manic?"

"Was I that bad? No, Miriam. I'm not. The birthday cards are for Steve and James, and whomever else is stuck in exile with them without family. Sam has relatives who have upcoming birthdays that he can't call from where ever, and Wanda... needs us. And James hasn't had a birthday card or anything in... what? Seventy years? If we had birthday cards, that is. The Get Well cards are for both Rhodes and James. The Sympathy cards are for Stark... and also maybe Pepper for putting up with him."

Miriam snorted in laughter. "Oh! Well, in that case, by all means, let us use the Family Get Well Machine."

"I've been thinking of setting up a card signing table at the party, for the stragglers we miss."

Miriam had to admit it was a worthy plan. "And here I thought we were simply having a picnic."

"You don't like the plan?"

"On, no. I love the plan."

"Then... what?"

"How do you explain get well cards for Uncle James due to brainwashing and cryofreeze?"

"We aren't. I'm simply going to explain that there's a family friend in a medically-induced coma that I can't actually identify due to possible HIPAA violations, whose name might or might not be James." Rebecca shrugged. "It's not entirely inaccurate."

"So... we're making apples out of oranges?"

"In the end, we're all fruit, yes?"

"So not ever letting you watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding again!"

Rebecca smiled. "At least I didn't tell anyone lately to put some Windex on it. Can you imagine?"

Miriam groaned and left the kitchen to get her address book. This project wasn't going to happen by itself!

~*~*~*~*~

In the three weeks since her unfortunate meeting with Tony Stark, Rebecca had organized and hounded many people into signing cards for three reasons, and FedEx envelopes had arrived from out of the area relatives with notes that all basically said: "It's weird, but we love and trust you."

Now, she was separating the cards into different piles: Birthday (person), Get Well/Sympathy (Rhodes), Get Well (James), and Sympathy (Stark).

Daniel walked into the living room and saw her sorting. "Do you want an organization box or two?"
"Paper bags. Not plastic. They stand on their own."

"Be right back."

Rebecca smiled, and then came across one for Pepper and had to stare at it. She looked at the name of the sender for a long moment. "Lucinda?" Then she saw the location sent from, and the attached note: After some consideration, and conversation with Mason, I am in agreement that Virginia could do with one of these. Good luck on your project, Mrs. Proctor. Both of them. I want to see the finished prayer shawl, OD Green and all.

She stared at the note, wondering who this person at the State Department was, that Mason would be confiding in her so.

Daniel came back with paper bags. "Okay... Rebecca?"

"Have to remember to ask Mason who Lucinda is," she told him and handed him the note.

Daniel read it, then chuckled. "Whomever she is, I love her sense of humor."

"And it's nice to see that the State Department, while run by an idiot, is not filled with them."

"Yes. Yes it is."

~*~*~*~*~

Lucinda was just getting to her desk for the morning when she found a manilla envelope sitting on her chair with her name on it. She picked it up cautiously, sniffed it, then opened it. Inside was a note from Mason and a picture of him wearing an OD Green prayer shawl that had pink and lighter green tassels, with a grin on his face.

The note read: Aunt Becca agrees, and Pepper will get the card. I still think pink was the wrong color for this, but it doesn't look too bad, all things considered.

Secretary Ross would later see the picture of Mason, framed, sitting on her desk, and wonder about it. A lot.

Chapter Text

Five weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

The pizza, combination with extra olives, had arrived later on when Tony remembered something and pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and looked at it speculatively. "Pepper?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's weird, but she also gave me this."

Pepper took the scrap of paper and studied what was written on it. "Oh. She must like you."

"Huh?"

"This list is for James."

"How do you know?"

"Because she asked me for a list of psychiatrists to check out, just after Shield fell. You know how I like to be proactive?"

"Sure."

"Well... if it gave her some kind of hope, checking out shrinks on her own and talking to them one by one... at least she was doing something."

Tony studied her for a long minute as he munched on his pizza. "How many were on that list you gave her?"

"Two hundred."

Tony paused, took another bite. Swallowed. "Seriously?"

"In the New York metro area? Yes, of course I'm serious." She glanced at him. "Tell you what. I'll call and make an appointment for you with one of these, and you'll go. No arguments."

"Why?"

"Because if she was giving this to you, while verbally thrashing you, then she thinks you need it. Which you do, Tony."

Tony sighed. "I don't like-"

"Not your decision. I let you make choices involving your own mental health, and we ended up here in this avoidable mess."

"Pepper..."

"Yes?"

"I... am not going to win this argument, am I?"

"At least you realize that you're not."

"I don't like it."

"I don't expect you to."

"But I'll go, if it makes you happy."

She stared at him. "This isn't about making me happy, Tony. It's about making you happy. Or at least able to find some happiness. Whichever."

He found that he could live with that explanation.

Eight weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

Tony had hoped that Rhodey would want to try the exoskeleton supports somewhere other than the compound, but wasn't surprised when the man had opted not to use them on grounds of the park in Brooklyn having uneven ground. Looking out over the crowd of people, it startled him how many there were. "So she really did mean a gathering."

Beside him, Pepper chuckled. "Oh Tony. So much to learn."

"It's not my fault I was left out of the loop only to get yelled at."

"No, if she'd have yelled at you, it would not have been in English."

He rolled his eyes and they moved to join the gathering, Happy trailing after them with Rhodey and the wheel chair that still made him wince to see.

"Pepper!" He jumped, startled as Rebecca came from almost out of nowhere, gave Pepper a hug in greeting, then turned to look at him, and the smile froze and seemed to fall right off her face. "And you. Hello, Mr. Stark."

Tony frowned at her, taking in the blue tunic with the flags at crazy angles... "Hello."

"It's good that you're here. Card table is over there," she pointed to a table that had a couple people at it, bent over and writing. "It's required. And... hang on. Miriam! Where's-"

Miriam, a middle-aged woman with brown hair that was peppered with grey, joined them with a smile and handed him a paper sack. "Here."

In spite of the fact that he didn't like people handing him things, he took it from her, looked inside to see lots of envelopes... "What are these?"

Miriam watched as Rebecca darted around him, greeted Rhodey and Happy enthusiastically, and launched into medical questions with Rhodey about how he was getting on. "It's her way of apologizing to you, Mr. Stark. We can't fix what's been done, but... let's just say there were a lot of phone calls. Oh! And Miss Potts?" She an envelope to Pepper. "Someone named Lucinda sent one along for you."

Pepper blinked and accepted the envelope in confusion. "Lucinda?"

"Someone Mason knows at the State Department?"

"Oh! That Lucinda! I haven't heard from her in ages..."

Tony was still staring into the bag. "Seriously, what are these?"

"We activated the Family Get Well Machine for you, Mr. Stark."

Tony paused. "I'm not sick."

"Not physically, no. But emotionally?" Miriam nodded to Rebecca, who was still talking to Rhodey and Happy. "Aunt Becca... let's just say that we all understand what you're going through, even if the circumstances are different. And... it's not that she doesn't like you, necessarily, just that... there's issues."

Tony paused again. "Pepper mentioned something about Peggy Carter."

Miriam sighed. "Oh. That."

"Huh?"

"Peggy was a friend, even after she started showing signs of Alzheimer's. You have to understand that some of Aunt Becca's behavior when she looks at you... issues. And she didn't get to go to the funeral because it was in London on such short notice, and you... well. You look a bit like your father, who served with Steve and Uncle James during the war, and she's an emotional mess. She fakes being fine, but... well, you were on the receiving end. You saw. This mess with Uncle James just made it worse."

Tony frowned, not having expected that kind of an explanation. "Oh. So this..."

"Is a sentimental but well-meant peace offering."

Tony nodded. "I think I understand. So... how are you in all of this?"

Miriam smiled, and that's when he noticed that it didn't reach her eyes. "I'd be lying if I said I was fine. So I will not lie to you."

"Oh."

"Are you three just going to stand there jawing about the state of our problems?" Rebecca asked from behind them. "Go, Mr. Stark. Meet the family, visit the card table. Mingle."

Miriam chuckled at Tony's expression. "She's right, you know. We are at a party, even if the guest of honor is in exile."

Tony winced. "Thanks. I'd managed to put Steve out of my mind, mostly."

"Oh, he'll see this, eventually. James is taping it." She motioned to a young man standing a ways away with a video camera. "Come over here and say hello to Mr. Stark, James."

James stopped recording and joined them. "Hi!"

Tony frowned at him. "James?"

"Proctor," the young man supplied.

"So you... are her grandson?"

"Great-grandson, actually," James told him. "It's good to actually meet you, Mr. Stark."

Pepper laughed and took the bag from Tony, put the card she'd been given into it, and grabbed his hand. "Come on. Get back to your taping, James."

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!"

Tony watched as the young man practically bounced away. "How old is he, anyway?"

"Twenty-six," Rebecca told him. "Also in the middle of a medical residency on Long Island."

"So he's not normally that bouncy?"

"No."

After that, Pepper pulled into the crowd and they mingled. Eventually, he visited the card table and found out exactly why the woman had been adamant about them visiting it. It was one thing to get a bag of cards, another to see the "machine" in action and realize that he wasn't the only beneficiary. He chuckled at the story of a family friend who might or might not be named James in a medically-induced coma. Family friend. Right.

Tony flipped through the not-yet-used card pile for Barnes (who else?), and came across one with a tabby cat laying on it's back, with the wording "Feline Fine" on the front of it. The card gave him pause, and he stared hard at the cat for a long moment before raising his head to look around. He hadn't thought of Alecto in a very long time, or the weirdness of his arrival...

"Tony?" Pepper asked from behind him.

He turned and handed her the card. "Look. Tell me I'm crazy."

Pepper frowned at him, then looked at the card, then looked at him. "For liking the one with the kitty? No, I don't think you're crazy. Eccentric sometimes, but not crazy."

"Pepper..."

"Oh." She studied the card again. "Does look a bit like... oh. Oh!"

"Now tell me I'm crazy. Please. Because the more I suspect what I think I'm suspecting, the more nuts it seems."

Pepper shook her head. "I don't think you are. Crazy, that is. And didn't you find pictures of your mother with a similar kitten?" She pushed the card back into his hands, pointed to the table behind him. "You should sign that one for James. It's perfect."

"I think it's crazy. And yes. I did." He paused, looked down at the card again, opened it to read the well-meaning inscription... "What if right now, I don't want to wish him well?"

"Pretend you do. And this isn't about you, Tony. It's about him. And trauma. And he might have given you your cat. Maybe. That's worth something, isn't it?"

She had a point, even if he hated that fact. Eventually, he signed it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You know... considering the amount of really dumb places we've ended up in on our way home," a female voice said from behind him. "This one isn't so bad."

Mason blinked and turned to find twelve people in black or gray jump suits that had different colored piping along the sleeves, all with military bearing. "Um... where did all of you come from?"

"You probably wouldn't believe us if we told you, Mister..." the same speaker as before said, a woman whose black jumpsuit was outlined in red.

"Nettleton. Why wouldn't I believe it?"

She smiled. "That's a long story, Mister Nettleton. Where are we?"

"You don't know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I did know."

"Brooklyn."

She frowned at him, then peered out from the shade of the tree they were standing under at the party. "Does that sign really say what I think it does? Whuki?"

"It really does," Whuki answered. "Probably a coincidence, but likely not. Not with our luck."

"Oh. Mr. Nettleton? Before or after the Battle of Liepzig?"

Mason frowned at her. "Huh?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"After. Why?"

She smiled. "Would you believe there's a medical consult I've always wanted to try having? Dawn, Elsie, Savage, and... Sue? We're going!"

The one with orange piping sighed. "Fine. You get to explain things to them when we get there, Lightning Rod."

Mason stared as the five of them vanished into flashes of light. "Uh..."

"Don't worry about it, kid," one of the men said, this one with blue piping. "Chris? Should we worry?"

The one with gray piping chuckled. "Cure for Quannot's Syndrome."

"So... maybe?"

"Either it'll be really dumb, or there will be explosions, or it will be fantastically brilliant. Or all three... and wouldn't that be interesting, if it was? With our luck, especially considering that on our way home, we've ended up kidnapped again by the same evil sorceress, Whuki had to fight a drugged teenager with superpowers, and we ended up at birthday party planned by the universe's most unlikely person? Hope for fantastically brilliant."

The man in blue laughed. "Good point. And I will."

Mason frowned. "Start making sense, please?"

"At this point? I'm just glad the Ewoks aren't out to get us... again."

"Ewoks?"

"Trust me when I say that there are worse things than the Chuck E. Cheese puppets singing to you." He held out a hand. "I'm Peter, by the way. Gray man is Chris, other gray-ish man is Whuki, beside him is his wife Rala, and..."

Mason spent the rest of the party befuddled and amused.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In Wakanda, Steve walks into the CryoLab to check on things, and finds an in-progress medical consult going on between the Wakandan doctors and five women in black jumpsuits that look suspiciously military. The one with red piping on her sleeves sees him, smiles, and shoos him right back out the door, saying they need the room for an hour and he can mope later.

Steve is left in the corridor, staring at the door. "Mope? When did I mope?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Tony sat on the couch with Pepper in the common room and began looking at the cards with her. The one that had come from Lucinda had been a humorous one, signed by everyone at the State Department (including, somehow, General Ross), giving her sympathy and support for putting up with him.

"I feel so loved," Tony muttered, then reached into the bag, pulled out the other sealed envelopes, and laid them on the coffee table. "How'd she get Ross to sign that, anyway?"

Pepper chuckled. "Probably the same way I get you to sign things sometimes... put it under your nose and demand. And don't take it personally, Tony. They mean well."

"I know. I'm a handful."

"But you are my handful."

The first card he opened turned out to be from Rebecca, and he was left staring in mute shock at what she'd written in near-perfect cursive...

Though it was twenty years ago, and time and distance may make it seem like everything should be fine, that you should be fine, the wounds of loss can get reopened at a moment's notice, and emotion can flood in. Emotion that can overtake and erase all reason. It does not matter how long ago it was, Anthony. It happened. The trick is to find a way to cope, to deal with the pain, so it doesn't cripple you. That... that is a hard thing to learn.
I tell you what James would, were he able to do so: we are so, so sorry for your loss. I know that he is sorry for having any part in it. This does not change the fact that it did happen, that your life was forever altered. Because it did happen, and your life was altered, and nothing is the same. Will never be the same as it would have been had it not happened to begin with.
With Deepest Sympathy and Empathy,
Rebecca

He read the poem accompanying the card, a prayer, by a Linda Elrod, and shook his head. "Pepper?" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded off. Strained.

"Hmmm?"

"I think I like her."

Pepper gently took the card from him and placed another in his hand. Then she read it with wide eyes. "Wow."

"How does-"

"Tony. She was the only one to ask Steve how long it had been since the Alps. We didn't think of it."

"Huh?"

Pepper sighed. "Perspective here. How long had it been?"

Tony paused, thinking back to what he knew... "Maybe a month? Two?"

"At most."

"Oh."

"Plus, she herself knows a thing or two about grieving."

He nodded slowly, still reeling. When put like that, what Rebecca had said about perspective being important made much more sense.

They spent the next hour or so opening the rest of the cards one by one, and at the end, Tony didn't feel quite so alone in his grief. And maybe that was the point...

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Text

Steve was still staring at the door a minute later when that same woman joined him in the corridor with a sigh and shut the door behind her. "Sorry."

He frowned at her. "For what?"

"Accusing you of moping around when you actually would have had every right to be moping, sir." She formally held out a hand expectantly. "My name is Ranko Johnson, Captain, and I apologize for not treating you with the respect that you're due. I threw you out because I've got two teammates doing something very delicate and it can go screwy if not handled properly. One of them is fresh off of a vacation leave for stress, and it was best to take precautions."

"Oh." He hesitantly shook her hand, then let go and she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed across her chest. "So... who are you, exactly?" And what was with the red streaks in her blonde hair? They looked almost natural.

She smiled. "United Earth Space Navy... so not from around here, that it's not even funny. Can I call you Steve, Captain?"

He nodded, not sure what to make of her answer. United Earth... what? "Yes. What are they doing in there?"

"Diagnosing your friend. Given what he's been through, letting Elsie read him was pushing it. Is pushing it, and I might put her on monitor duty after."

Steve glanced toward the door. "Diagnosing him for what?"

Ranko sighed. "To help the medical team figure out how best to help him. The first step for that? Layers of coding and how many. Once you know that... I won't say it's easy, but it's easier than doing it blind."

"Oh. Really?"

"Really. And..." She looked at him thoughtfully, then pulled a digital camera from her pocket and handed it to him. "Happy birthday, Steve."

He frowned down at the camera, frowned at her again. "How do you know that it's my birthday?"

She smiled again. "We were at a party by accident in Brooklyn an hour ago. Before I found out where we were, I took some pictures for the heck of it. Mom would have my head if I came back with stories again, but no pictures to show for it, so..."

Steve glanced at his watch, noted the time difference while also wondering how she could have been in Brooklyn an hour ago... "Oh, right. Five hour time difference."

"Just look at the pictures, would you?"

"Impatient?"

"Not really."

He chuckled and fiddled with the camera until he figured out who to turn the memory on, on the back viewing panel, and... "What's Tony doing there?"

"I'm really not the person to ask, Steve. Also, of the two birthday parties I've ended up at by accident lately, I think I liked yours more."

"How so?"

"Yours isn't taking place at an alternate reality equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese."

He frowned and looked up from the pictures at her. "Huh?"

Ranko rolled her eyes at him. "Sometimes, I manage to forget how behind a person gets when they miss seventy years. Did no one drag you to one of those yet? Shame on them. Seriously." She held out a hand. "Give me your catch-up note book right now, there's some things you need to add." He continued to frown, but did so, and she spent a few minutes writing in it while he browsed through pictures before coming across one that made him blink.

"Is this... Chewbacca?"

Ranko looked up, smiled. "Sure is. You'd like him."

"But-"

"Oh the places you go if you give people emergency distress beacons..." She wrote one more thing, then handed the small note book back to him, and plucked the camera from his hands. Ranko searched through pictures, then showed him one... of a dancing, puppet Ewok. "And this is why I liked the park more."

"Right." Steve looked through his catch-up notebook to discover that she'd filled seven or eight pages with things, including a bunch of television series, and a book by a Douglas Adams... "This is a lot. And I've seen The Princess Bride."

"Then you know to watch out for the six-fingered man. No matter what said person might look like."

"Um... yes?"

"Good. And never start a land war in Asia, either."

He paused. "Are you really giving me wisdom based on that movie?"

"Sure." She smirked. "You and your Avengers teammates destroyed an airport fighting each other, just so you could get to Siberia to stop a maniac. If my throwing shade at you with pop culture references makes you think before you act next time, then I'll have done my job. With all due respect, Captain."

"How do you-"

"I'm from another dimension. Things are different there, and we got invaded twenty some-odd years ago by giant shape-shifting spiders instead of an evil purple man bent on universal destruction." She shook her head at him. "And that's all I can say on the matter, because the last time we intervened in someone else's problems, my teammate fought a drugged teen into submission, got full-body aches and a concussion for his trouble, and a fairy empress got mad at us. Fix your own interpersonal problems, because the badness on the way is worse. Much worse."

Steve blinked at her in surprise. "An evil purple man?"

"Probably. In your reality, he might be orange instead. Does it matter? Not really."

The door opened, forestalling him from asking any other questions, and another woman, this one with gold piping on her sleeves, stepped out and eyed the two of them suspiciously. "You didn't tell him about the purple man, did you?"

"Not directly, no. And it depends on which one you mean, Savage. There are two."

"Uh-huh... got the answer for the thing. Twelve. Which is better than Chester's diagnosis, plus by now, Captain Rogers's boy in there has mostly come back to himself, even if he is still triggerable." Savage glanced at Steve. "On the good side of this, it'll take less time, and he probably won't end up with a flower fixation."

Steve frowned again. "A what?"

"Long story, but basically, we had a programmable assassin at home, who tried to kill our grandfather. He failed, and got deprogrammed... badly. But at least they learned things in case they ever have to do it again. Which is good for your friend in there, because we have a treatment plan for you... or rather, for the medical team, since you doing it makes no sense." Savage paused, looked at him appraisingly. "So, really, Captain, sir... Happy birthday."

Steve stared at them both, startled. "You're serious? Bucky's going to get deprogrammed?"

"And hate every minute of said process, yes," Savage told him. "Some of it, he'll have to sleep through, and some... he'll be triggered into passing out, because there's twelve layers of coding. Chester had fifty, and no actual life before he was brainwashed. It's a wonder that he only argues with plants on a bad day."

"No need to scare him with worst case scenarios, Savage," Ranko told her.

"You're the one who told him about evil, purple megalomaniacs. Glass houses."

"Touché." Ranko glanced at Steve again, smiled. "So who was that nice Mr. Nettleton at the party? On the young side, wearing an outfit that just screams 'I'm undercover, don't notice me!'?"

"Bucky's grandnephew, Mason," Steve answered. "And he is undercover, just not with his own family."

"Ah. Do you trust him?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Have you and your in-exile team members written your reports yet for Berlin, Liepzig, The Raft, and Siberia?"

"Weeks ago. Seriously, why?"

Ranko's smile got bigger. "Because we are going back to Brooklyn shortly, to meet up with the rest of our team and leave, and they've probably had him so distracted he's kept them company all afternoon. Go get 'em."

He did.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Rebecca finally did set her eyes on Mason again, they were packing up the left-over food and the picnic blankets, and Daniel and Michael were getting the sign down. She watched him for a moment as he approached with a dazed expression on his face and a thick folder under one arm. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. I think. And I have to convince Lucinda to send an anonymous diplomatic package to the President. Which... fine. This day was going to be odd no matter what."

"An anonymous what?"

He handed her the folder. "Don't ask how I got it. I'm not sure I can explain that. I don't quite understand, myself."

She stared down at the Avengers seal on the front of the folder. "Right."

"And for some reason, I got the advice to drag both Steve and Uncle James to Chuck E. Cheese when this situation finally does get solved..."

Ten weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

Tony was in the workshop when Pepper came looking for him, chatting via a Skype call with a pair of men she'd not met before while he fiddled with... "Tony, is that an arm?"

Tony turned and frowned at her. "Yes."

She came closer and looked at it closer, frowning. "That... is this...?"

"It's Barnes's prosthetic, yes."

"Why are you-"

He nodded to the two men watching them with matching smirks. "I had questions, wanted a medical opinion, Elley's the best guy I know for medical things that I just can't ask anyone else, and the other likes mechanical things. Wave to Pepper, Elley."

Elley waved. "Hello."

Pepper smiled. "Elley?"

"They're from Nebraska."

"They don't look like they're from Nebraska, Tony."

The other guy chuckled. "Nebraska? They have Reindeer Meat Soup there, too?"

Pepper laughed. "Corn. And you are?"

"Michil."

"Hello Mr. Michil and Mr. Elley. So what are you discussing?"

Tony motioned to the arm. "How this thing works when attached to a person. Elley thinks there's a fair amount of pain involved. Michil thinks there's underlying structural reinforcement."

"There would have to be," Michil put in. "Based on how you saw it being used."

Pepper frowned. "So..."

"So we're figuring it out," Tony told her with a pained smile. "I'm even considering introducing both of them to Rebecca."

Elley laughed. "More people? Stark!"

"What? You love medicine, she loves medicine... you'd probably talk for hours and forget everybody else. Besides, it would be good practice for your English."

Elley looked at Pepper from the computer screen. "Considering teaching him Yakut. Make him practice."

Pepper blinked, surprised. "Yakut? So... not Nebraska."

"No. Maybe visit someday? Is nice?"

Pepper decided she liked the two nice men from not-Nebraska.

Chapter Text

Eight weeks, three days post the Battle of Liepzig/Halle Airport...

It had taken the Wakandan medical team three days to bring him out of cryosleep, Steve reflected as he watched his friend sleep. Two to fully defrost him slowly, and one to let him sleep it off. He was supposed to wake up any time, but hadn't yet because one of the medical team had already started the process of deprogramming by knocking him out when they'd first defrosted him with one of the one-use knock out words to quell any outbursts. Then, of course, T'Challa had had to explain what a Sputnik had been in history. A day later, it still didn't make much sense for why the Russians would use the name of a satellite like that.

In front of him on the bed, Bucky started to stir, and Steve was brought back to the present. "Hey, Buck."

Bucky opened his eyes to stare at the cryolab's ceiling for a moment before tracking to him with a frown. "Hey. What's going on?"

"We have a solution. It's... they said you'd hate every minute of it, but it's a solution nonetheless."

"Oh. Can't be any worse than how it happened."

Steve smiled wanly. "No. Before that, though, let's get you something to eat." He waved down one of the medics. "He free to leave the lab for a bit?"

The doctor smiled. "Just as soon as vitals are over. With your permission, Sergeant."

Bucky sat up, wobbled at his messed up center of balance from the missing arm, nodded. "Granted."

"And I apologize for knocking you out with a trigger word," the doctor told him as he pulled out a blood pressure cuff and attached it securely to Bucky's remaining right arm. "It was safest to do, to prevent you panicking."

"What was it?"

"Sputnik." The doctor watched him carefully, then put the ends of his stethoscope in his ears. "Nothing?" Bucky shook his head. "Good." The doctor proceeded to take his blood pressure, pulse, and respiration count which made Bucky feel like they were meditating for a minute. "All right. I want you back here tomorrow morning, no sooner."

"Tomorrow?" Bucky wondered, as the doctor took the cuff off his arm.

"Yes, Mr. Barnes. Tomorrow. For the start of your un-triggering procedures."

"Oh." Bucky looked at Steve. "What exactly happened that now it's a certain thing that this can happen?"

Steve smiled. "We had extra-dimensional visitors show up from my in-absentia birthday party in Brooklyn."

"Huh?"

"Don't ask questions like that if you don't want an actual answer, Buck. It's like asking if Jane Wyman ended up the first lady or not. She didn't, by the way."

Bucky paused, thinking back... hadn't Jane Wyman been an actress? How would an actress end up the first lady? "That made no sense."

Steve laughed. "Ronald Reagan ended up president. Make sense now?"

"The actor?"

"Yes. The actor. Unless you know of some other Ronald Reagan that would have been married to Jane Wyman..."

Oh. Now it made sense. Maybe. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still a punk. Big or small."

Steve helped him off the bed, steadied him on his feet. "Come on. Let's go get you something to eat."

"I want fruit."

Steve smiled. "Oh, we've got fruit..."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Breakfast, though really it was closer to dinnertime, turned out to consist of omelets that Steve was still making, and fruit salad, Bucky discovered when Steve ushered him to a kitchen area and sat him down at a table, and went about cooking. "Uh... Steve?"

"The doctor gave me a list for the things you could eat, right off, out of cryofreeze. Eggs and fruit were on it, so... omelets!"

"Oh."

"And you mentioned fruit before, on the way to Liepzig. So I get just how much you must want some."

Bucky nodded and happily started in on the fruit. "Think they could get plums?"

"I could ask his highness, sure. Why?"

"Good for memory."

Steve paused, glanced back at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

Just then, Sam, Wanda, Clint, and a woman with three kids that he'd not met before rounded the corner from the hallway, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Steve, you were supposed to text me."

Steve laughed. "He's not actually been up very long, Sam. How was the great outdoors?"

"Good." Sam noted Bucky's curious frown and followed his gaze to the woman and the kids. "Oh. Barnes, this is Laura, Nathaniel, the baby, Cooper, and Lila. Wave to him, kids. He's awake!"

"And confused," Bucky said as Wanda came over and sat down next to him. "When... where..."

Laura handed Nathaniel to Clint, and joined them at the table. "Six weeks ago, in order to evade Ross after Stark said things he shouldn't have at the Raft and blew our cover. Steve, does he know about...?"

"Brooklyn? No. No time to tell him. And unless he says something first, don't. Not about her. She was adamant about that, and his amnesia."

"Ah."

"Stark blew your cover?" Bucky wondered. "There was a cover to break?"

Clint sighed. "It was a precaution, getting them here instead of leaving them at home, after Tony let it slip that I have a family. And I'd rather I could have sent them to Brooklyn, but-"

"We like Wakanda, Dad!" Cooper told him.

"Yes, Dad! We do!"

Clint looked down at his son and daughter, shrugged. "But it's a good learning experience."

"Wait," Bucky ventured. "Why Brooklyn?"

Steve finished on the first Omelet, and put it aside on a warming plate, started on another. "Your family is in Brooklyn, Buck. Plus, it's close to the tower. But due to the not-exactly-covert detail being run on your family... for you, in case you show up... sending Laura and the kids to Brooklyn was impossible."

Bucky looked around at the assembled people. "Where's Ant-Guy?"

"San Francisco," Sam answered. "He was the easiest to get out of here, and the easiest to keep out of sight, due to him not actually being an Avenger or internationally wanted under his own name. Lang was carrying false ID in Germany."

"And what do you mean by not-exactly-covert? Either it's covert or it isn't."

Steve finished the second Omelet and started on the third. "Cooper, Lila? Any requests for your Omelets?"

"Cheese!" Lila said as she took a seat at the table. "And ham!"

"Okay. Cooper?"

"Broccoli?"

"Broccoli it is, then." Steve paused, staring down at the stove for a long moment, then shook himself. "As for the detail... it's covert, but not to members of your family, because they know about it. It's being run by your grandnephew on orders from Secretary Ross. Has been for a year and a half. Ross doesn't know it's your grandnephew, though, and members of your family all think he's an idiot for trying to catch you, when you actually went nowhere near Brooklyn in two years."

"I did, actually."

Steve glanced back at him, frowning. "You did?"

"Ended up at the Brooklyn Bridge, two months after DC. Didn't stay very long."

Sam chuckled. "She's going to be so mad, Steve."

"Maybe. Miriam certainly will be."

"Miriam?" Bucky wondered.

"Um-hmm... you were in Romania, so: remember more than your mother yet?"

"What does Romania have to do..." Bucky blinked as a memory of a woman in a house dress and an apron came to him, giving one of his little sisters a talking-to in Romanian. In the memory, the woman called her... "Becca."

Silence fell as they all stared at him and Steve smiled down at the Omelet he was making. "Good. Remember anything else?"

"I... memory fragment. Did Ma always yell at us in Romanian?"

"She did. And Miriam is your grandniece. And Wanda? Only if he asks, because too many choices were taken from him."

Wanda opened her mouth to protest, glanced at Bucky, then nodded. "How did you know I was going to ask?"

"You're you. Physics first, then maybe the complexities of the mind."

Wanda sighed. "Because I didn't realize the power of a bomb. And I'm starting to hate physics."

"Gotta crawl before you can walk, right?" Steve started another omelet, glanced back at Bucky again, who appeared very confused. "There's been a lot of discussion since May. It's July seventh, now. Wanda needs to learn physics to better control her abilities, and his highness is helping her."

"Oh."

"And we'll see about putting you on a Skype call with Becca, sooner or later. Probably later, because of the State Department shenanigans going on and we don't need even more attention brought down on your family then there already is."

Bucky paused. "Becca's alive?"

"She is." Steve finished the last of the seven omelets and brought the warming plate over to the table, blinking when he realized it hadn't been set for seven. "Clint? Two more plates?"

Clint laughed and handed Nathaniel to him. "Were you not expecting us to be back so soon? The waterfall isn't that far, you know."

"No, I just miscounted when I left to sit vigil." Steve turned and handed Nathaniel off to Laura with a grin. "Does Nathaniel eat solids yet?"

"Some," Laura told him, smiling as she held her son. "What do you think, Nate? Want some eggs that Uncle Steve made?" Nathaniel burbled back at her with happiness. "That's what I thought you'd say!"

Clint got two more plates, and they all sat down to eat together, enjoying each other's company.

Chapter Text

Still eight weeks, three days post the Battle of Liepzig/Halle Airport...

Sam and Clint were waiting at the kitchen table when Steve ventured into the kitchen again after finally getting Bucky to settle down enough to sleep for the night. It hadn't been easy and it probably showed on his face. "Clint, shouldn't you be-"

"Laura said you needed company, to decompress," Clint told him humorlessly. "Who am I to argue with my wife? Plus... you were very chipper for you. And ate only one omelet, when I know you're actually supposed to eat more than that."

Steve frowned at him. "I expected Bucky to notice, but you...?"

"Make another," Sam told him with a roll of his eyes. "With everything, packed with calories. Day like today?"

Steve nodded. "I was just going to do that, actually. You two want something?"

"No," Clint demurred. "Sam?"

"Go on, Steve."

They waited while Steve made another omelet with all the fixings for himself, packed with calories and protein like Sam had instructed, then joined them at the table. "So..."

"He seemed really confused," Sam said slowly, as Steve began to work his way through the omelet. "And didn't pick up on certain things."

Steve paused, swallowed, then frowned at him. "You mean about Scott? Sam, he's fresh out of two months in cryosleep, and you picked the dumbest explanation for Scott not being here instead of the real one." He took another bite of his omelet, savored the taste for a moment. "And it was somewhat mean."

"We'll tell him if he thinks to ask again, then."

Clint frowned. "Wait. That was cryofreeze withdrawal? He seemed fine, other than the not picking up on things."

"Yes," Steve told him. "It was. And other than his memory being somewhat spotty... and the lack of reaction to certain things like the State Department detail, he's himself." Steve tilted his head to listen, then took another bite of the omelet.

"Oh. I thought he'd be more like you, right out of the ice."

Steve shook his head. "Hope not. We don't need an internationally wanted man with one arm busting out of buildings and running wildly down the street, because he thinks everybody he sees is HYDRA."

"You weren't that bad."

"I threw two agents through a wall and ended up in Times Square."

"Fair enough." Clint watched as Steve glanced down the hall again. "What are you listening for?"

"Nightmares."

"Right." Clint stood up and marched away from the table, intent in his posture. He came back a few minutes later with the parent end of a baby monitor and set it on the table as he sat back down. "There. Other end is in his room. Now stop abusing your enhanced hearing and eat."

"You're not my father, Clint."

"In this situation, it feels like it. Barnes seems to be a deep sleeper just now."

Sam sighed. "That can turn on a dime."

"I know that. But if and until then..."

Steve glanced at the baby monitor, shook his head, and continued to eat. "Good idea."

"It's too bad we don't have Rebecca's photo albums here," Sam mused. "Bad enough we have to walk on egg shells in relation to his memory, but at least if we had those, it'd be easier."

"Touch and go, Sam," Steve said as he finished the omelet and sat back. "And this could be worse. And..." He frowned. "Photo albums? I didn't think of that!"

Clint chuckled. "You've been working with the medical team for six weeks, brainstorming with them on how best to undo what was done. So has Sam. That much focus? I'm not surprised that you didn't think of it, Steve."

"Clint-"

"Steve, just... relax tonight, all right? Give yourself that freedom."

Steve nodded slowly, taking the rebuke for what it was. "Thanks."

Momentarily, Laura joined them. "Well?"

"Making Steve eat more, listening for nightmares... pep talk. The usual," Clint told her with a smile. "Everyone down?"

"Wanda is reading to them. Well... to Cooper. Lila and Nathaniel are already asleep." She reached over, swatted Sam on the arm, which caused him to jump in surprise. "False ID? Really?"

Sam shrugged. "At least we know how out of it Barnes was?"

Laura rolled her eyes at him as she sat down next to her husband. "I could have told you that, just watching him eat with one arm."

"And I threw Jane Wyman at him just after he woke up, Sam," Steve told him humorously. "Figured out really quick that what I thought while standing in that cold storage room in the base in Siberia was correct... it would have been really easy to just drag him straight from cryo to the conditioning chair, because it was right there. He was pliable, confused, and unsteady on his feet, even hours after been taken out. Also discovered that he's starting to remember pop culture from the forties. A little, anyway."

Clint frowned in thought. "Jane Wyman?"

"Actress. Had been married to Ronald Reagan when we left for the war." Steve looked at each of them and wondered why they were all looking at him funny. "What?"

"Have you seen Back To The Future yet, Steve?" Laura wondered.

"No. Why?"

"Then I'll be right back." So saying, she also took the baby monitor with her.

Steve watched her go, then looked at Sam. "I don't understand."

Clint chuckled again. "If she has anything to say about it, you will. And Sam? When do you think Barnes will realize you pulled one over on him?"

Sam thought about it. "About Tic-Tac? No idea. Depends on how much he knows about... oh, wait. I'm looking at this wrong. The more he learns about the current legal system, the more likely he might ask?"

"Something like that. Plus, it's more that Hank Pym wanted his lab monkey back and has the resources to hide him... and did Ross even ID him?" Clint frowned. "I don't remember them fingerprinting us at any stage of the process, but I was more concerned about Wanda than I was about myself."

"They didn't. Photo recognition ID, though. Not unheard of."

"Good point."

Laura returned with a DVD case and T'Challa trailing after her with the baby monitor in hand, amusement written clearly on his face. "Movie night!"

Steve frowned at the monitor in T'Challa's hand. "Why'd she give it to you?"

"Because you need to sleep eventually, Captain. And this is a good movie," T'Challa said with a smile. "Though I would be more likely to suggest Monty Python's Flying Circus." At Steve's frown growing deeper, he shrugged. "Went to Oxford, got exposed to British television. Next movie night, we'll show you and Barnes that."

"Monty what?"

Sam laughed. "Steve? One thing at a time."

"But... seriously? British television? How's that different from American television?"

Laura smiled and led him to the common room not far from the kitchen and directed him to a couch. "You let us worry about that, okay? For now... one wacky time travel adventure, coming up!"

"I lived a time travel adventure, Laura. I didn't like it!"

"Not like this, you didn't. And this one is fun."

He found out that she was right.

Chapter Text

Eleven weeks post the Battle of Liepzig-Halle Airport...

The folder full of reports sat between them as Pepper looked at it in confusion in Miriam's kitchen, stunned. "Where did it come from?"

Miriam shook her head. "Mason wouldn't explain, saying he didn't quite understand himself. Pretty sure none of them were at the party, though. We made two copies, and then let Mason take one of them to give to Lucinda to send anonymously to the President. Though what that's going to do, I have no idea."

Pepper nodded slowly as she traced the Avengers logo on the cover with her finger. "Did you read them?"

"Sure did. Stark's lucky he wasn't there when I read the psych report on Uncle James from an actual psychiatrist, too. And James's report on the week from heck that started with fruit shopping."

"Miriam! Not you, too!"

Miriam rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't wish him ill, and I understand why he lost his temper, and... there's an and. He's getting therapy to deal with things, right?"

"Reluctantly." Pepper paused when Miriam handed her a copy of the reports in a plain folder. "Why...?"

"Because the jerk you love needs to read those, too. And I mean that respectfully, Miss Potts. I'm not editing myself right now because I managed to get Aunt Becca to go shopping with Daniel, and... emotional release is good."

Pepper winced at the understandable emotional honesty. "You're not wrong... Tony can be a jerk, even if he doesn't mean to be." She looked at the other woman who had invited her over for coffee, only to spring the reports surprise on her. "And how are you?"

Miriam smiled. "Me? In dire need of some non-idiocy and for Steve not to be in exile, and for the situation to get solved sooner rather than later. Other than that? Fantastic."

"Ah."

"What are you two doing in here, all by yourselves?" Rebecca asked as she entered the kitchen with a grandma cart full of groceries, Daniel behind her with a helpless expression directed at his wife. "Coffee without me?" She glanced at them, saw the folders... "Oh. Right. I was going to suggest that."

"Glad to know we're on the same page, Aunt Becca. Get anything good?"

Rebecca paused while Daniel took the pull cart from her and began unloading it onto the counter. "You want me to start complaining about how everything is expensive? Because it is!"

"She did that while looking at candy bars," Daniel supplied humorously. "And Miriam? You owe me a well-cooked steak."

"Yes, dear."

"With broccoli."

"Right..."

"And potatoes."

Pepper chuckled. "That does sound good."

"See? Even Pepper wants that for dinner."

Miriam rolled her eyes at them again, glanced at Pepper. "I even almost wish to cook for a super soldier right now, you know? And that... it's a lot."

Daniel paused in his unloading of the pull cart. "Are we going to be cooking for super soldiers? Because, if so, we didn't buy enough. Not, especially, for two. Please tell me I don't have to brave traffic again..."

Miriam laughed. "No, Dan! We were venting! Or I was, anyway." She stole a glance at Rebecca, who was staring at them. "Though it'd be nice to have to, right?"

"Yes," Daniel said immediately. "It would. Rebecca? Help me?" He handed her the eggs. "Fridge."

Rebecca stared down at the container of eggs in her hands. "Dan, I..."

"Do it. The eggs want you to." Daniel watched her go to the fridge, then glared mildly at his wife, who winced in acknowledgement. Then he pulled out two pineapples. "And how's this for a find? Two for five!"

"Which one of you wanted pineapple?" Pepper wondered.

"Me. Rebecca thought it was extravagant, but it's good to have something fun once in a while." He turned to find her staring at the door of the fridge, lost in thought. "I want my helper back, Mr. Fridge." She jumped and turned back to him, hands on hips. "What? I do!"

"I'm fine," Rebecca told him. "You don't have to-"

"Becca?" Daniel handed her the mayonnaise and the jug of milk. "Back to the fridge with you. Come back this time, okay?" She went, and he looked at Miriam, mouthed 'bad day.'

Miriam pursed her lips, stood up, and led Rebecca to the table just as she'd finished opening and closing the fridge again, made her sit. "Enough."

Rebecca blinked up at her. "What?"

"Stop faking for us. We know you're not fine. You're not in public, you can be as down as you please." Miriam sat back down in her chair and glared at her aunt. "It's just Miss Potts, Dan, and me. So... stop it. Or so help me, Rebecca, I will find a way to punch your brother for being an idiot long-distance for freezing himself to protect everybody but himself."

"I..." Rebecca frowned at her. "Punch him long-distance?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way, no matter how ridiculous." She glared at her until Rebecca started giggling, and then outright laughing at the situation, and then the laughing turned into laughing and crying, and the three of them converged on her as a unit and waited it out together. Eventually she calmed, only sniffling occasionally, and Miriam hugged her. "Better?"

"No, but it felt good." Rebecca stared at her hands. "I hate this, you know. The not knowing." Pepper tapped her shoulder lightly. "What?"

"You're not alone," Pepper told her. "Not in this. Remember that. And when Tony finally is ready to talk to you again, ask him about Nebraska."

Rebecca looked at her funny. "Nebraska?"

"Granted, he wasn't actually in Nebraska, but getting him to admit he was even in Siberia and met people was like pulling teeth... and he still didn't say they were from Siberia. Nice guys."

"Are we seriously going to be joking about him having been in Nebraska when he wasn't until the end of time?" Rebecca glanced at Daniel, who had gone back to unpacking the pull cart, and Miriam. "Rhodes thought he might have ended up in Nebraska when he was missing after the Battle of Liepzig. Apparently, there's a story there."

Miriam smiled. "Oh. So... the not-Nebraskans were nice?"

Pepper nodded. "Nice enough. I walked in on him consulting on James's arm with them over Skype. Said he wanted a medical and engineering opinion."

Daniel paused as he put the crackers in a cabinet. "From Siberia?"

"That was one of the questions I didn't get to ask. Whatever he's thinking or planning..." She shrugged. "I don't know." Pepper looked directly at Rebecca to find her expression was unreadable. "What's wrong?"

"I'd managed to forget the arm. Almost." She sighed. "Miriam wants to punch him long-distance, and I want to strangle Arnim Zola, even though the man died in the 1970's. We're a matched set."

"I didn't say I'd actually do it, Aunt Becca."

"No, but... darn it all." Rebecca sighed. "And now I'm going to have to pretend I don't know he has it unless he mentions it."

Pepper sighed. "He has the shield, too."

"Or that. Pepper!"

"What? If I can't tell you, who can I tell? Miriam isn't the only person who needed to vent a little bit today." She peered suspiciously into the corners of the room. "The State Department didn't actually bug your house, did they?"

Miriam smiled. "They tried, but Mason found all the bugs and did interesting things with all of them. I'm sure Secretary Ross will enjoy hearing the contents of the Fox News 24 hour broadcast, among other things."

"He did what?"

"You mean Mason wasn't supposed to bug the studios of Fox News for the State Department? At the very least, the Secretary will learn things!" For the second time in twenty minutes, someone broke out in laughter. This time, it was Pepper. Miriam smiled unrepentantly. "And being that it's an election cycle..."

Pepper giggled some more, then sobered. "Miriam!"

"Felt good to laugh, right?"

"Yes. Oh, lord yes. He really bugged Fox News?"

Miriam nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned in all of this, it's that you don't want to make Mason mad. He gets really creative and it leads to things like the bugging of check stand number five at the local grocery store, Fox News, a really random street corner in Harlem, and... what was the last one, Dan?"

"A sushi restaurant two blocks from the Tower in Manhattan. They know it's there, too."

Pepper paused. "A sushi restaurant?"

"For international flavor."

"That... kind of makes sense."

Daniel motioned to Miriam. "Like she said: creative."

Pepper smiled. "So why would Mason get that creative? Other than being mad?"

Rebecca held up a hand guiltily. "I told him family stories of antics from the twenties and thirties. Steve and James? They were rascals. And besides, if you can't be a bad influence on your grandnephew, who can you be a bad influence on? The way I heard the story from Sam when he called to tell me to meet them to see them off at JFK, Ross used the example of a heart attack giving him perspective on international politics, and compared Thor and Bruce Banner to nuclear weapons when they aren't. So am I for Mason repeatedly pranking the man? Yes!"

Pepper stared at her. "Rebecca..."

"And I haven't forgotten how Harlem got broken, either. It's possible to get perspective from a near-death experience, to strive to be a better person and all that, I've seen it happen. But Ross? As crooked as they come." She looked away for a moment, took a deep breath. "I haven't had a chance to actually talk to Dr. Banner about the circumstances of his accident, but..."

"It's be easier if he wasn't also in exile," Pepper mused.

"It would, yes."

"What else did Sam tell you?"

"Enough to have Mike look into the circumstances of every Avengers intervention we've had," Rebecca told her honestly. "One, you can't lay all of the blame for New York on the first responders. It'd be like blaming the firefighters for not saving the World Trade Center buildings when they were going to fall anyway. And two, Project Insight was sanctioned by the government, and HYDRA corrupted it." She paused. "Oh. Angle."

Miriam leaned forward. "What angle?"

"HYDRA. The world governments and the press swaying public opinion and leaving HYDRA out of everything when it's at the core of... both New York and the Fall of Shield." Rebecca glanced at Pepper to find her frowning again. "The Tesseract?"

"Oh." Pepper's cell phone when off, startling them, and she looked at it with a deeper frown. Holding up a hand to forestall them from talking, she answered it. "Stark Industries, CEO Virginia Potts speaking... Oh. Hello, Mr. Secretary. To what do I owe the pleasure today? ...oh? Really. Well, I'm sorry, but I am nowhere near him right now to even consider letting you speak to him. And didn't I tell you at least once to talk to Legal first, no matter what the subject is? That's right. You do that. Good day, Mr. Secretary." She ended the call and simply looked at her cell phone for a moment. "You'd think that after the forth time getting me, and who knows how many times getting legal at this point, that he'd stop trying."

"Ross has your cell phone number?" Daniel wondered.

"No. After the sixth time Tony put him on infinite hold, I started having FRIDAY screen his calls and direct calls like that one to me, because I will at least talk to him, if not actually be helpful."

Rebecca smiled. "So..."

"So we've got Mason pranking the Secretary of State, your grandson's law firm and SI's legal department looking into the Accords and James's situation, Lucinda doing whatever she's doing with Mason at the State Department, and this..." Pepper motioned to the folder. She reached down and pulled her StarkPad from the purse at her feet, turned it on. "While we're at it, I have medical question for you, Rebecca."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She waited for the tablet to boot, then found the picture she wanted of Bucky in the restraints from Berlin that Tony had shown her weeks ago. "Tony said that this thing used electrical pulses to subdue that arm. Would the pulses have had an effect like the conditioning equipment, even though it was focused on his arm?"

Rebecca took the tablet and studied the image of her brother with wide eyes, then nodded slowly and passed it to Daniel. "I don't have the knowledge of neurology to be able say yes, but... maybe? Why?"

"I have a theory regarding Zemo and I wanted to run it by you before I brought it up to Tony... and Zemo got access when he shouldn't have."

"What is this from?" Daniel wondered.

"The interrogation in Berlin. Such as it wasn't actually an interrogation."

Miriam snatched the tablet from Daniel and looked. "Oh my. And I don't mean the restraints, either."

{{"They put a man who had been mistreated badly in that,"}} Rebecca muttered. {{"At the very least, they knew he had been. It was impossible not to know."}}

Pepper paused, tilted her head thoughtfully to stare at her. "I'm not sure what you said, but-"

"Simplified English version: he likely clammed up due to PTSD, and the Task Force is made up of morons," Miriam supplied. "And this... Mike doesn't need another way to spin anything, but... he could sock it to the Task Force for something."

Pepper nodded. "That's why I needed the medical opinion."

{{"The chair they used had restraints somewhat like that. Sort of."}}

Miriam looked at the picture again. "It did?"

{{"For his arms."}}

"Oh. Same angle, then. Go get the file, so Pepper can see what you're talking about." Miriam watched her go, then turned back to Pepper. "I'm not going to make her get back to English just yet. She has every right to be upset."

"I'm starting to catch some of it. Something about a chair and arms?"

"Yes. James's arms."

"Oh."

Rebecca returned with a thick binder and set it on the table in front of Pepper, opened it to a particular page that showed pictures of a chair in what looked like a bank vault, with monitors and an IV stand. "That thing. See the arm clamps?"

Pepper leaned closer, took in the details... "Oh. No wonder you lost your English like that. Miriam, can I have the tablet back, to take a picture of this?"

"No need. This is your copy," Rebecca told her. "Of what we've got, been able to find, plus the data from the Siberian facility that Stark gave me when I asked if I could take Steve's Kiev File from the NAF. He didn't know that I already had the information in it. He neglected to ask."

Pepper frowned. "No, you distracted him enough that it wouldn't have occurred to him to ask." Rebecca tilted her head in question. "FRIDAY. Watch-link on his wrist. I got to hear the whole thing."

Rebecca winced knowingly. "Oh. What I'm trying to say here is that this is your copy, Pepper. For Stark to see." She nodded to the folder again. "Along with that."

"Why?"

"Perspective and transparency. He needs both. Plus, the part of this where he ended up with the shield that is usually attached to Steve's arm or on his back... because he used Howard Stark's memory as a weapon in a moment of emotion." Now Pepper looked at her funny. "What? I can extrapolate from 'he yelled bad things at me' to 'was emotional and still wanted to fight.'"

"Ah."

"And if it weren't for the fact that our family is probably on a no fly list or something what with all this State Department silliness, I'd be booking myself a flight for Africa right now."

Pepper took that in, then blinked. "They're in Africa?"

"Of course they are." Rebecca glanced at Miriam. "We need your help, too, by the way. Go get the package, Miriam."

Miriam smiled, handed the tablet back to Pepper, and went to go get it. She came back with a large box and set it on the counter. "We need that sent to Wakanda and can't do it ourselves. Sending international mail is somewhat more than noticeable, and if customs searches it... let's just say it would be bad."

Pepper stared at the box. "What's in that?"

"The efforts of the family get well machine... plus a couple things, and two photo albums. Also cards for his highness, though that was a late edition to this party," Rebecca explained. "So what do you think? Will you?"

Now Pepper smiled. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Pepper glanced down at the open binder... "One of these days, you're going to tell me just how you managed to get pictures of that thing."

Rebecca smirked. "Would you believe I played bad cop while Steve played good cop and insinuated that Peggy would have interrogated Brock Rumlow to within an inch of his life? It's a pity he was on morphine. I'd have liked to have met him whole and sober. And, you know... not working for HYDRA."

Pepper turned and looked at Daniel with wide eyes, and he simply laughed. She would, and did, believe it.

Chapter Text

June 14, 1943

Reaching the door of his and Steve's shared apartment after having seen the girls home following only an hour of dancing, he stared at it for long moments. It felt strange, standing here after the afternoon and evening he'd had, full of arguing and barely-flying (but still flying!) car, and stopping a fist fight before it had gotten even worse. Was he really shipping out for England tomorrow, or had imagined getting his orders at Sunday Formation?

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he moved to unlock the door and found it already was, and opened it cautiously. Then he frowned at the sight of Rebecca in her white uniform, wearing a veil held on her head by her nursing cap, and gloves, checking Steve's eyes with a candle, with a serious expression on her face that belied the goofiness of the veil she was wearing. Hadn't see been wearing plain clothes this morning, when he'd stopped by the family apartment to tell his parents about his orders? "Um..."

"Come in and shut the door, James. I'm just making sure this idiot doesn't have a concussion on top of his headache and the split lip."

"With a candle?" Steve wondered, then winced as she glared at him.

"You have a flashlight? We'll do that instead."

Bucky blinked, surprised, and did as he was told, completely forgetting to lock the door behind himself. "We do. And what... oh. Right. The header to the trash cans." Oddly, it made sense that his fresh-out-of-nursing-school sister would check Steve for a concussion the minute she saw him.

Rebecca sighed. "I'm done now, so it's a little late."

Steve pushed her hand with the candle in it away and moved away from her on the couch. "I'm fine, and the doctor at the expo would have noticed if I had a concussion, which I don't."

Rebecca frowned at him briefly before looking at her brother. "Well?"

"Recruiting station," Bucky told her.

"Oh." She blew out the candle, set it on the floor out of the way, and then looked hard at Steve, and he winced again. "You know what your mother would say to you trying to enlist repeatedly, yes?"

"Don't get arrested?"

Bucky laughed at his humor. "She might've. And... Becca? Why are you wearing-"

"That's for me to know, and don't change the subject." She studied her brother for a moment before motioning to the sheet strung up to the doorway of the kitchen. "Emma's in there, decorating. Hazel went with William to get an officiant."

"For what..." He studied her for a moment, suddenly realizing that, but for the fact that she was wearing her nursing uniform, everything else was out of place. But why the nursing outfit when she already had a wedding dress? That made no sense.

"Wait and see."

Bucky glanced at Steve. "She tell you anything?"

Steve shook his head. "No, she just jumped right into asking me if I ate dinner, took my extract, and then she jumped right into checking for a concussion. How was dancing?"

"Fine. How were the good people of the expo recruiting station?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Same as the people of Paramus."

Rebecca stared at him. "Jersey? Really?"

"That's what I said," Bucky told her with a chuckle, all the while noticing that Steve was giving off the air of being untruthful... which made about as much sense as Rebecca wearing a veil with her nursing cap. "And why is Emma decorating the kitchen?"

Rebecca smiled. "You'll find out when William gets here." Her smile got bigger when they heard laughter from the kitchen. "And Emma obviously finds all of this hilarious."

"Well, it is!" Emma called from the kitchen. "Just be glad you got their blessing!"

"I am!" Rebecca called back before returning her attention to Steve. "So, really... did you take your extract?"

"Yes, as awful tasting as it is."

"Good."

From behind the curtain, came Emma who seemed very pleased with herself. "One kitchen that currently doesn't look like one, decorated just for you, Becca."

"Did you disguise the bathtub?"

"Well, do you mind standing in it? I thought it made a good center-piece." She glanced at Steve to find him with his head in his hands, eyes screwed shut. "So..."

"Don't," Bucky cautioned. "Becca already gave him an exam that he didn't want."

"Wasn't going to."

The three of them blinked when Steve started muttering under his breath in Gaelic, too fast for them to follow. It went on for a minute before he looked up at them. "What?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nothing. How bad is your headache?"

"On a scale of what? Day to day? Not bad. I've had worse."

Bucky paused at that non-answer. "Steve-"

"What?" He glared at each of them, then winced again. "Sorry. It was worth it get the guy out of that theater."

Emma frowned at him. "Was this a guy who was mouthing off to a newsreel?"

Steve paused. "You heard about that?"

She nodded. "A friend of mine was there. If you hadn't gotten him out of there, she would have been next in line to kick his butt, because her husband is in the Navy, somewhere in the Pacific."

"Oh. So..."

"So you did good," Emma told him with a smile, completely ignoring Rebecca's mild glare. "Even if now you've got a headache for which you can't take aspirin. Tonight is about finding the good things. This is one of those, right sister?"

"Yes," Rebecca said, and finally she allowed herself to relax. "All about the good things. And Steve? You never answered for weather you ate or not."

"He did," Bucky assured her as Steve groaned in protest. "Including popcorn, now stop it."

"I just..."

"We know," Emma said patiently. "This... thing that we're not talking about tonight? It's hard." She caught Steve's eye when he was about to say something and shook her head minutely. He blinked, then nodded and shut his mouth.

The door opened just then, admitting Hazel, Rebecca's fiancé in his dress blues, and... Bucky frowned. Why would they bring a Navy Chaplain? "All right. If the veil hadn't already made me suspicious, I would be now. What is going on here, and why a Chaplain? And hello, Lieutenant. Sir."

Rebecca smiled wryly. "You're getting shipped out tomorrow, instead of two months from now like we thought originally, and we didn't want you to miss the wedding. So..."

"So we brought the wedding to you," William finished for her. "Unofficial though it may be."

"And what did Mother say to this?" Bucky wondered.

"Oh, they both gave their blessing and made me promise not to do anything other than this, when it's not actually my wedding night," Rebecca told him lightly. "Granted, she was a bit more expressive about it than Dad was."

The Chaplain laughed, startling them. "One would hope not, young lady. Shall we get on with this?"

Rebecca smiled again. "We shall... pastor? Father? Rabbi? Monsignor?"

"Minister," he said and held out a hand as she stood up. "Thomas Stephens. Will a small Lutheran service be all right?"

"It would be fine," Rebecca said as she shook his hand, then led everybody to the kitchen, taking down the sheet on the way. Bucky discovered that they'd decorated with ribbon and what appeared to be cheesecloth covering the counters. And... Emma really had made the bathtub the focal point of the room, and had added lamps for light. "Oh, you were serious about the bathtub."

"Of course I was," Emma said as she hefted the camera.

Rebecca smiled, glanced at William. "What do you think? Bathtub wedding in Steve and James's kitchen?"

"It's no stranger than the rest of this day," William said with a chuckle and helped her in, and then stepped in himself.

Bucky eyed Steve as he stood beside him. "I was going to change."

Steve chuckled. "Aren't you glad you didn't get the chance to?"

"Who gives this woman to this man?" Minister Stephens asked.

Hazel smiled. "On behalf of mother and father, who are babysitting for me tonight, the four of us do. Unofficially."

Minister Stephens then proceeded to lead them through an abridged ceremony, complete with a reading from the Song of Solomon on love and faith, then gave a very short sermon on marriage, and then led them through a version of the marriage vows, and ended with, "...and now I unofficially pronounce you husband and wife. It's up to you, if you kiss her or not, Seaman Proctor."

William bent and kissed her on the cheek, and Rebecca returned it, also on his cheek. "I can't wait to do this for real," he whispered to her.

Rebecca smiled up at him. "Me too. Can we get out of the bathtub now?"

"Almost," Emma said, taking some pictures. "Okay."

For a day that had started with getting orders to ship out the next day, Bucky reflected as he watched them climb back out of the bathtub, it hadn't turned out that bad...

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three weeks later, and Steve was standing in the rear of the Navy Yard chapel, in an Army uniform, wondering if he even should be here, listening as Rebecca and William said their official wedding vows. Had it really been three weeks since that night in their apartment? It felt like a lifetime, and he still wasn't used to how his body had changed due to Project Rebirth.

"Steve?"

At the familiar, questioning whisper of a voice, he blinked and turned to find Emma beside him. "Oh. Hi?"

She stared up at him. "Goodness. What happened to you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"And here I thought I was imagining a blonde hunk that resembled you, last week near the Navy Yard, barefoot and running..." She stepped back, took his picture, nodded to the bride and groom. "You going to tell her?"

"I can't stay very long. And it's kind of a secret. This."

Emma studied him, then nodded. "All right. I don't like it, but fine. Did-"

"Emma. If I couldn't tell anyone, how could I tell Buck that I actually did end up enlisted when he did his best to talk me out of it?"

"Good point." She looked him up and down, smiled. "You look good in uniform. And healthy."

"Choosing to accept the good and not think about the bad?"

"Always."

Together, they watched the conclusion of the ceremony. This time, William actually did kiss his bride on the lips. Rebecca was left in such a daze that he had to lead her down the aisle and she completely missed Steve when she walked right by him.

Chapter Text

Various days post The Battle of Liepzig/Halle Airport...

"So can you tell me about your relationship with your parents?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's none of your business and I don't talk about-"

"You are here to work things out, Mr. Stark. Getting defensive only wastes my time and yours. Would you like to talk about horses instead?"

"Yes."

"Maybe later, then. Now... tell me about your parents."

Tony was really starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have stayed in Siberia instead. At least there, Elley only made fun of him when he did or said something dumb. "I wasn't being defensive, I just don't want to talk about them."

"And why is that?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Doctor Knutz held up a hand, and Tony stopped talking. "Back up a little. The first conversation you had with this man involved asking him if he'd been doing pilates?"

Tony looked away. "I was trying to break the tension."

"There was tension?"

"Have you met Captain America, Doc? The guy exudes tension. Right then, I was uncomfortable, and I babble."

"To a man who was fresh out of suspended animation, who was fresh from the second world war, who-"

Tony winced. "All right. I get it. It was a bad opening line."

Doctor Knutz frowned at his wording. "Do you make a habit of thinking of everything you say as if you're on a stage performing?"

"Not usually."

The doctor looked down at his notepad. "You were uncomfortable in his presence from the start. Why?"

"I don't want to discuss that, doc."

"Ah, so this is about your mother or your father, again..."

"Doc..."

The doctor smiled for a moment, leaned forward. "You know, a friend of mine had this magnificent stallion that just couldn't get on with all the other horses, and had to be kept in a separate paddock. Only it turned out that the Stallion had been mistreated early on in life and was in reality touch-starved. You know how they found that out?"

Tony shook his head. "No. How did they?"

"Carrots."

"Huh?"

"Their daughter befriended the stallion with carrots. Pretty soon, the stallion was following her around everywhere when he wasn't locked in his stall. Darndest thing they ever saw, this large stallion following their ten year old around."

"And that has what to do with me?"

Doctor Knutz smiled. "That's for you to think about, Mr. Stark. Plus, it's a good story."

"Could we maybe talk about the horses more often instead?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Doctor Knutz smiled again. "If everything was as simple as telling you horse stories, why would you be coming to therapy? I could just hand you the wonderful historical novel on Seabiscuit and send you on your way."

"There's a book?"

"Yes, and I'd like you to read it before your next appointment."

~*~*~*~*~

The doctor watched him as he sat down. "So how was the book?"

"Not bad..."

"Oh?"

Tony nodded. "Was the point of it to provide a kind of perspective on the school of hard knocks?"

"Partly. And also because your friend the Captain came of age during the Depression."

Tony paused, wondering why he'd needed this psychiatrist to point that out. "Oh."

"Perspective is important, Mr. Stark."

"Everybody keeps saying that."

"Good. Remember that. So... how is your relationship with Miss Potts?"

Tony sighed. This was going to be a long, long session...

~*~*~*~*~

"So to put this in perspective, you asked point-blank if someone knew something, they admitted they did, but not anything else, and you..."

Tony winced. "When you put it like that, I don't know. I've been running it over and over in my mind, wondering what I'd have done if he had said no. Would I have done what I did the same way?"

Doctor Knutz sighed. "We'll never know the answer that, Mr. Stark. What ifs and could have beens are not my forte."

"But you have all the answers, right?"

"No. My job is to guide you on your journey to mental and emotional wellness. That doesn't mean I have all the answers. I have ideas. It's not the same thing."

"Can we pretend it is? Because I don't want to find the answers by myself."

"You're not. You are here with me, and we are finding them together. And even the stallion needed a guide out of the darkness of loneliness."

Tony looked at him funny. "I'm not lonely."

"Oh?"

"I'm not, Doc."

"But you were."

"You're frustrating, you know that?"

"You think this is bad? Try me when I'm at home with my kids."

"You have kids?"

"Three, and one of them has a piano recital tomorrow. Which doesn't get you out of explaining your emotional response to that video, by the way."

"Doc?"

"Hmmm?"

"I... really don't want to talk about it."

"It's why you're here with me, yes?"

"I guess?"

"Then eventually you will..."

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had taken five sessions for Tony to figure out the horse-story metaphors, and two to discover that just breaking down and actually talking about the problem at hand felt better than avoiding it completely. He still didn't like it, but maybe liking the conversations had with this horse-loving therapist wasn't the point of all this. Maybe...

Chapter Text

"Understanding is a three edged sword: your side, their side, and the truth."
― J. Michael Straczynski

Eleven weeks post the Battle of Liepzig/Halle Airport...

Dinner that night was a quiet affair filled with light conversation and the ambiance of candles. After her talk with Rebecca, Miriam, and Daniel, she'd developed a craving for steak and potatoes, with broccoli, and so that's what they were working their way through. Pepper didn't miss the frequent glances he kept sneaking at the box she'd left on the counter as a conversation starter. Frankly, she was surprised that the meal was nearly over and he hadn't asked yet.

Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. "You didn't have that box this morning, Pep."

She smiled as she chewed on a piece of broccoli, then swallowed. "You're right. I didn't."

"Going to tell me what it is?"

She studied him for a moment, sitting across from her at the table. "That depends entirely on you. If you're ready for the truth of certain things. If not... it's for charity and I am not going to tell you anything."

Tony frowned at her, the expression in his eyes suddenly suspicious. "The truth of things? Now you sound like Dr. Knutz."

"Oh?" Pepper was severely tempted to chuckle, to explain about how she'd had an extended private meeting with the good doctor, vetting him personally just like Rebecca had, but didn't dare wreck the progress he'd been making. So she just looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. And what does that even mean, if I'm ready to hear the truth of certain things? What qualifies me as ready?"

"It means that you need to give me a straight answer, or I show and tell you nothing. So..." Here, she set her cutlery down and regarded him calmly. "Are you ready to talk about those currently in exile? If you are, great. If not, you will drop the subject with me and talk about them with Dr. Knutz at your next appointment."

"Huh?"

"I'm serious."

Tony paused, considered his answer. "It's really up to me?"

"It really is."

"Why?"

"Because that," she motioned to the box. "Is for them."

"And why do you have it?"

"That's a longer explanation involving the State Department and Rebecca being afraid to ship anything internationally, and risk the wrong parties opening it, or being directed straight to them. So... answer. Yours."

Tony took a deep breath, let it out. "I... think I am?"

"Close enough."

Tony watched her as she got up, moved to open the box, pulled three things out it including a smaller box, a photo album, and a tissue-wrapped item. "Um... Pepper?"

She handed him the smaller box first, and he was startled to find it was an approximation, with lettering done in stencils, of a Prisoner of War Red Cross care package. "We'll start with this. James never got one of those... and Rebecca figured it was better late than never."

Tony first stared at the box, then opened to find, among other things, razors for shaving, shaving cream, three chocolate bars, two cans of mixed fruit, a bar of soap, a can of Liver Paste, cellophane-wrapped biscuits labeled 'k-ration, or as close as we could get,' a can of SPAM, a can of vegetable soup labeled as 'as close as we could get to c-rations,' a package of raisins, dried fruit, and... "Isn't the three tubes of Oreo cookies over-doing it?"

Pepper allowed herself to chuckle, finally. "Maybe. According to Miriam, the one actually historically produced by the Red Cross included a package of ten cookies."

"And the Hershey bars are labeled 'better than the D-Rations you complained about so much,'" Tony observed, then he frowned again. "I did read that in one of his letters, come to think of it, and now I'm wondering what was so bad about D-Rations. What do you mean, he didn't get one?" Tony paused, picked up a bottle of aspirin that was also in the package, and wondered why there was a note attached, warning Steve not to take any. Did Steve have an allergy of some kind to aspirin? That made no sense.

Pepper sighed. So close, and yet... "He was a prisoner of war. Twice? Remember? A unit getting captured at Azzano by HYDRA, Steve rescuing 400 fellow soldiers? Why do I remember this and you don't?"

Tony paused. "No, I knew that, but thank you for the reminder. And... twice?" Suddenly, the why of Dr. Knutz making him read Unbroken was made clear. He'd been right, about starting with the technology, rather than the person. In Berlin and at the bunker in Siberia, had he and Steve even been on the same page, concerning Barnes? "I... oh. So this..."

"She's making lemonade from lemons," Pepper murmured as she accepted the box back from him and handed the photo album to him next, which caused him to look at her funny. "I saw these just after the Battle of New York, when we made Steve show us around Brooklyn and stumbled upon Rebecca by accident. We were there because he needed to see his hometown, even if he was reluctant to go, and it turned out to be the best thing we could have done. And you know what the weird thing was?"

"I have this odd feeling you're going to tell me."

She opened the album to a page and motioned to the pictures of two very recognizable young men in period clothing, Steve far smaller than he was used to seeing him, and Barnes... Tony blinked at the differences. "Natasha knew, as soon as she saw these. Only... she didn't believe it, that she was right. It took nearly getting killed in DC by the Winter Soldier, and listening to Steve explain about Zola and the 107th being taken prisoner in '43, to realize that it was true."

Tony frowned, processing through that information as he stared down at the picture. "Still..."

"She didn't tell Steve what she knew, when she suspected, Tony. That's what I'm trying to tell you. As far as I know, she still hasn't come clean and told him that she knew before." Pepper watched as he turned the page of the photo album and began to look. "Does that make it right, that it turned out she didn't have to tell him? No. Just like Steve should have told you, bare minimum, that he suspected something was amiss, but didn't or couldn't."

"He said he was protecting himself and sparing me," Tony grumbled. Then he blinked as he came across a picture of a younger, small, and very skinny Steve standing next to a woman old enough to likely be his mother. The resemblance alone was uncanny. "Is this...?"

Pepper smiled, nodded. "Sarah Rogers. I think Rebecca said that Emma got lucky and happened to have the camera at just the right time. She worked a lot of overtime as a nurse."

"Emma?"

"Turn forward a page." Tony did so, and Pepper pointed to three young women, and Bucky, and Steve. "Emma and Hazel... you've met Rebecca."

Tony's attention was taken by an older couple on the opposing page, standing on steps outside of a building. He pulled it loose from it's corner moorings and took a look at the back: "George and Winifred Barnes, October 1936. Funeral of Sarah Rogers, Epiphany Roman Catholic Church, Brooklyn." He stared at the writing for a moment, at once reminded of Steve's badly worded letter and doing the math in his head, and turned back to the previous page to look at Sarah Rogers again... "On his own since he was 18?"

"Tony?"

"Give me a minute, Pep. I..." He turned the page back, returned the picture to it's place, and looked at the other ones in that grouping. His frown deepened when he realized two things: one, that Steve wasn't in the pictures with the Barnes Family on the steps of the church, and two, James Barnes himself didn't look at all happy about the photo op and wasn't even making an effort for the camera. "I saw him."

"Hmmm?"

Tony blinked at her for a moment, then nodded down at the pictures and tapped the one with Barnes outright frowning while standing with two of his sisters. "That guy. I saw him in Berlin, barely putting up with Zemo while tied down in that cage. That... isn't the same guy who fired a gun into my hand at point-blank range after he'd broken out of the cell during the power outtage."

Pepper frowned at him. "You can tell that from a picture?"

"I saw this one in Siberia, protecting Steve from behind when I finally caught up to them." Tony took a deep breath, let it out. "How can they be the same person, and yet not the same?" And Dr. Knutz was probably going to smirk at him for this epiphany, when he told him about it, if he told him about it. Trying to understand the situation backwards... "This is hard."

"What is?"

"Seeing the forest for the trees."

"That's not specific enough, Tony."

He glanced at her, sighed. "I want to tear everything in that box apart. I want to be mad, but... you keep showing me things and explaining, and forcing me to see past myself. That this isn't all about me, or what happened to my parents, and Doctor Knutz keeps making startling observations about the situation the more it comes up in discussion. And..."

"That's what I was waiting for," Pepper said carefully. "You're human, you are allowed to be angry and upset. I'd be more surprised if you weren't, really. You're allowed. But this, sending this box is about..." She motioned to the album. "Them, and the others in exile with them."

Tony glanced down at the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes again, considered them thoughtfully. "Do you know when they passed?"

Pepper shook her head. "I've never asked Rebecca that question. It's something you will have to ask her yourself."

He continued to gaze down at the two adults in wonder before shaking his head. "How much did they take from him? HYDRA, I mean. This... I mean, does he even remember?" He had a good idea of what the man did remember, in relation to what he'd been used to do, but this was another consideration entirely.

"I don't know. But don't you think he deserves the chance to?"

Tony turned a few pages further on, and frowned at a picture of what appeared to be one of the sisters standing in a decorated bath tub in a kitchen with a Navy Seaman, wearing a nursing outfit and a veil, in front of a... Chaplain? On that same page were two other pictures, one of the group including Barnes in an Army uniform, but minus a sister, and the other of the group, but minus the Chaplain. He pulled one of the group pictures free of it's corner holders and looked at the back, to find: "June 14, 1943, Unofficial-Wedding of Rebecca Barnes and William Proctor, Apartment of James Barnes and Steven Rogers, Brooklyn. James shipped out for England the following day." Tony blinked, startled. This was the last time she'd seen him? "Yes." His voice was raw to his own ears.

"That is why she wants this box sent, Tony. And that is why we are going to do exactly that." She accepted the album back after he'd replaced the picture on the page, and then handed him the tissue-wrapped bundle. "And then there's this. Unwrap it carefully and don't tear the paper. She put a lot of effort into the contents."

It was very odd, those instructions, but he did as she asked... to discover an Army-Green shawl with pink and lighter-green tassels. "Okay. Now I'm really confused."

"It's for James."

"Why OD green?"

"Mason talked her out of pink. Mostly."

"She's weird."

"Well... she was in a weird place while sitting in Rhodey's hospital room."

"Oh." He carefully re-wrapped the shawl, set it aside, gestured for the album again, and opened it to look at the pictures of the family on the steps again. "One thing that bothers me here... if it was Steve's mother's funeral, why isn't he in these? And there's a sister missing."

Pepper frowned and looked at the page herself. "I can explain Emma. She took the pictures. Steve... I don't know. Maybe he didn't stick around for pictures?"

They spent the next hour leafing through the photo album before Tony made up his mind and got up from the table. Pepper watched him stride out of the dining room and waited a few minutes for him to come back. When he did, it was with a Stark Pad in a box and a thumb drive, which he handed to her. "You should take it to them personally. It's that important."

Pepper studied the box and the thumb drive for a moment before looking at him in confusion. "Personally?"

"Yes."

"And these?"

Tony tapped the StarkPad box. "Communication, better than that awful burner phone Steve sent, and less traceable, because it's on the secure SI satellite network. As for the drive... you walked in on us discussing the arm. Dr. Knutz threw me a curveball or three when Elley tricked me into a therapy session, and I ended up figuring some things out. That contains the specs of the part of the arm I've got. T'Challa can probably figure it out from there."

Pepper blinked, surprised. "So you know they're in Wakanda?"

"I'm not an idiot, Pepper. Of course I know." He watched as she moved to put the album, the wrapped bundle, the care package, and his offerings in the box, and then blinked when she pulled out two folders from behind the box that had been out of sight. "What are those?"

Pepper sat down again and placed both the thick binder and the less-thick folder in front of him. "These are Steve's and the other's mission reports. Don't ask how I got it, because the answer made no sense to start with. The other is everything Rebecca has on the Winter Soldier program, integrated with what you brought back from Siberia and gave to her." Pepper paused, staring him in the eyes. "Don't lie to me again, Tony, about having been in Nebraska when you weren't."

"I..."

"Tony? Truth."

"Okay."

"And the truth is... Rebecca didn't need to ask for the Kiev File. She already had the information in it."

"Then why...?"

Pepper sighed. "You're you, and she was emotional, and so were you. And you were being rude."

"No, I wasn't. And she hit me."

"Did you use her name, after you found out whom you were talking to?"

"Huh?"

"No. You called her 'Old Woman.' You were being rude with a member of the generation that lived through the Great Depression and the Second World War, on top of her emotional trauma. Your own mother would have corrected you for that. If I'd done it, so would mine have."

Tony stared back at her, wondering again why he needed anyone to point things like this out. She was right... his mother would have given him a talking to about rudeness to the elderly, no matter the circumstances. "Oh." He gestured to the thick binder. "And that?"

"Understanding. Perspective."

"I've seen it."

"No, you haven't. Not in context."

"What context does there need to be? It was all bad!"

She smiled. "You'll find out when you read it. And, just so you're aware, everything in those is going to the President, including an combined analysis that was very enlightening on the Accords. I'm telling you this because transparency is good, and Secretary Ross is in more trouble than he knows. Putting Stark Industries under surveillance, among other things..." She shrugged. "And the Barnes family lawyers... let's just say that they got a hold of the contents of that binder and wrote a five star defense involving the Geneva Convention. Legal wrote a counter, they batted back and forth for a month or so, and came out the other side with an iron clad defense, made more solid by what the Task Force did and didn't do while James was in custody in Berlin."

Tony looked at her for a moment in wonder. "Pep?"

"Yes?"

"We really helped with the legal defense?"

Pepper sighed. "Only so much as our legal department and Michael Proctor's law office had a war of argumentation that was like a trial without actually having a trial. On paper. Call it a mock trial, if you will."

"Oh. I'm... not sure what to think of that right now."

She motioned to the binder again. "Think about it while you read that. And how am I getting to Africa? Did you think of that yet? We rather don't want the State Department knowing where I've gone, or that I've even left, so that rules out public transport."

"Maria Hill has email. Ask her for a ride."

"I love the way you think, Tony Stark."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the former (and eventually, hopefully, presently again) SHIELD helicarrier, Maria Hill receives an odd request via encrypted email from Pepper: Maria, I need girl time and a stealth flight to an African nation. Help?

Maria smiles. She can definitely help with that.

Two days after that, after midnight, a Quinjet in stealth mode arrives for Pepper, Natasha at the helm.

Chapter Text

It was a little past ten o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday when a well-dressed woman with blonde hair and far too much makeup stormed into Michael Proctor's Brooklyn law office in a huff and demanded to be seen. Jane, the practice's Paralegal secretary, simply smiled. "Do you have an appointment, Miss Everhart?"

"No! I got this thing, and I want to talk to him and know what right he has to handcuff the Fourth Estate!"

Jane eyed the paper in her hand for a moment, then stood up and moved to knock on the door frame of Michael's open office door. "Another upset reporter to see you, Mike."

Michael glanced up and laughed. "Clearly. Call my grandmother and get her here, would you? With Mason, if it's possible."

Jane smiled again, nodded, then turned back to look at Christine Everhart. "You are so in for it, woman. You have no idea. Would you like some coffee?"

Christine blinked, stunned at her congeniality. "Water. It was a long flight from L.A."

Jane nodded again, motioned to the office door. "He's in there. Feel free to yell at him if you want, if it makes you feel better."

"Are you always this informal, Miss...?"

Jane held out a hand. "Jane Talbot, and he's my cousin. I can be as informal as I want, and you're the one who barged in here, making demands and waving around things. If you don't want to be professional, why should I be?"

Christine blinked again. "Oh. I..."

"Apologize later, Miss Everhart." She motioned again to the open office door, where Michael was now standing with an amused expression on his face. "Your meeting awaits."

Christine watched her go, then looked at Michael. "So... is she always so...?"

Michael laughed. "No, she simply hates it when people are grossly unprofessional. And I wouldn't call that letter handcuffing anyone, Miss Everheart. Come in and sit down?"

Christine entered his office and sat down on the couch while Michael re-took his seat behind his desk and simply looked back at her, waiting. "I..."

"That letter was to inform you of your gross misconduct concerning a Prisoner of War," Michael told her blandly. "And every major news agency got one... I had a heck of a time explaining it to Megyn Kelly yesterday, I don't expect you to be any different."

She glanced down at the letter still in her hands, then looked at him for a long moment. "So this isn't an attack of some kind?"

"No. My uncle's identity as the Winter Soldier got spilled to the general public, my family has been harrassed, and in general put in the spotlight when we already were and didn't want to be." Michael frowned at her. "Do you know what it's like to be under State Department scrutiny, Miss Everhart?"

"Can't say as I do, no." Jane came back in momentarily and handed Christine a glass of ice water, then left again. "Thank you!"

Michael frowned at her. "Well we do. We've been under State Department surveillance for a year and a half, because of the mess in D.C... Jane, did you get her?"

"Ten minutes!" Jane called back to him. "Probably with Penguins or something!"

Michael laughed, and Christine looked at him funny. "You'll understand when my grandmother gets here... she can be a bit eccentric. But then, she's ninety-two. If anyone deserves to be a little eccentric, it's a ninety-two year old."

"I don't understand. First you send me this letter, now I'm meeting your grandmother?"

"Who is my Uncle, Miss Everhart?"

Christine paused, glanced at the diplomas on the walls... and that's when she saw a picture of the Howling Commandoes, black and white, from the Second World War, Steve Rogers included. "Oh."

"And going by that, who would my grandmother be to him? To both of them, actually, come to think of it."

"You're trying to make me think, aren't you?"

"Is it working?"

She stood up and went to really look at the photograph, to get a better look at James Barnes... to find a young man with troubled eyes looking back at her, wearing the familiar jacket that she remembered seeing at the Smithsonian years ago. "He was young here. Very."

"Yes."

Christine slowly turned back to him. "Have you met him?"

Michael shook his head. "No, and that's a stupid question, Ma'am. For us, until what happened with HYDRA and SHIELD two years ago, he was dead. For Captain Rogers, he was dead. Had been since 1945. And then he was missing, only to be falsely accused of blowing up the UN summit meeting in Vienna, and nearly killed as a result. As I wasn't in Berlin in May, I did not have the opportunity."

Christine slowly returned to the couch and sat down again. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Barging into your office with my assumptions, for forgetting the circumstances of... this." She took a deep breath. "Wait. You said the State Department has your family under surveillance? Why?"

Michael chuckled. "Now that... I do not stoop to understand government paranoia and the possibility of an amnesiac turning up on our doorsteps when he didn't even remember his own name, let alone a nickname."

"Oh. How do you know that he didn't?"

"Captain Rogers doesn't keep secrets from my grandmother. She'd probably hit him in the shins with her cane if he did. And she explained it to me afterwards." Michael tilted his head to listen for a moment as he heard voices in the outer office, then smiled. "And you... well, I won't call it lucky. She threw Tony Stark for a loop once recently."

"Stark?"

An older woman with a surprisingly erect posture for her age entered the small office and looked at them, then turned and looked at Mason, who was following along behind her, with a sigh. "I hate reporters."

"Oh, I think you'll like this one, Grandma," Michael told her with a grin. "She shares your flare for the dramatic."

"I'm not dramatic, Michael." She turned back around and looked at Christine, evaluating her carefully. "East coast or west coast?"

Christine took in the elderly woman in the pink and green monkey scrub top for a long moment, then held out a hand. "Christine Everhart, Los Angeles. WHIH News."

"Rebecca Barnes Proctor," she said as she shook her hand, then settled down in the chair in the corner. "You're that annoying one, with the angles on the Avengers of late."

Christine frowned. "What? I'm not annoying!"

"Just like I'm not dramatic? Please, Miss Everhart." She leaned forward, held out a hand. "Cell phone and any recording devices? Now."

"I-"

"Mason?"

Mason sighed. "Do as she asks, Miss Everhart. We don't trust reporters in this family, and I can take away your choices and search you if need be."

Christine glanced at Michael in question, and Michael shrugged. "He's CIA. He could have done it on sight."

Christine rolled her eyes, then pulled out her cell phone and a tape recorder, and handed them both to Rebecca, who looked back at her coldly. "What? I always record everything. One too many encounters with scarily powerful people. Teaches you to always think six steps ahead of everything."

"You must have an interesting storage room, then," Rebecca mused. "Why did you come here?"

"To get the story on why I'd be getting a letter like this one," Christine explained, holding it up. "I was intrigued and infuriated."

"That was the point," Michael told her.

"And we are not a story," Rebecca said with a frown. "Yours or anyone else."

"Don't you want to tell-"

"Miss Everhart," Rebecca interrupted. "If we wanted to expose anything to the public, don't you think we'd have done it long before now? Frankly, I don't want to tell anyone anything. I assume Michael told you a little bit before I got here? Well... we don't grant interviews. That letter was not an invitation. It was a notice that the news media can do better than to drag people, good people, through the mud just for the sake of having stories to tell. You know what happened when my brother's face and identity got very publicly plastered all over creation in May, based on the evidence of a video? Reporters showed up at my door, because I am the most visible member of my family, and I've met a fair few of them as patients over the years. They knew exactly where to go. I'm his sister. Mind you, I haven't seen him since he left for England in 1943, but does that matter to anyone? No. The circumstances of all of this? They matter, Miss Everhart. It's not as simple as an interview and letting the public know everything when it's none of anyone else's business to begin with and needed to be kept out of the public eye."

Christine stared at her, at once reminded of her own grandmother. "No, I guess it's not."

"And that's another thing... do you know what happened in Lagos?"

Christine frowned. "Is that a trick question? Everybody knows. Wanda Maximoff was involved in blowing up a building during an Avengers op."

Rebecca sighed and shook her head. "No, she was trying to contain the bomb. What would have happened if that bomb had gone off at ground level?"

Christine paused. "I... I don't know. Why?"

"Same reason that reporters from five news agencies showed up at my door in May. Circumstances matter. You would do well to look into the circumstances surrounding the operation in question, because they matter."

"Did you really throw Tony Stark for a loop?"

Rebecca winced and glanced at her grandson, who simply smiled in return. "That was an unfortunate accident of circumstances, but yes. It was a mutual throw."

"Good."

Now Rebecca paused and really looked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"I had an... encounter. Once or twice. With him. He's very... magnetic."

"Yes, he is!" Jane called from her desk. "Just watching him on TV, he's magnetic!"

Christine frowned. "Does she have really good hearing or something?"

"Or something," Michael said. "Intercom is open. Jane, how is the rest of that brief coming?"

"Ask me sometime tomorrow!"

"Brief?" Christine wondered.

"Long story that doesn't concern you," Michael told her. "I can say that the President will definitely be intrigued."

Christine turned her attention back to Rebecca. "If you ever decide you want to take anything to the public? I want interview rights."

Rebecca smiled. "It'll be you or Miss Kelley, if that time ever comes. I make no guarantees on that front."

"But... Fox News?"

"Mason owes them something for bugging them, one would think..."

"I do not!"

Christine frowned at the young man in non-descript clothing. "Bugging them?"

Mason sighed. "First she tells me stories about her brother and his friend, then I find bugging equipment at the State Department meant for her house, and then..."

"He got creative," Rebecca explained. "You don't want to know how creative, but it was amusing."

Christine laughed. It was so refreshing to talk to these people. Eventually, Rebecca gave both her cell phone and her tape recorder back to her, minus the tape that had been recording.

The next day, Christine Everhart decided to take a deeper look at State Department activities over the last few years.

Chapter Text

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
-Emily Dickinson

While they waited two days for her ride, Tony received an email via the secure SI network from Elley, and it led him to wondering briefly why the man hadn't just seen fit to call him. And how did he even know how to work the email server on the StarkPad? Shaking his head in amusement while sitting at his desk in the workshop in Avengers Tower, he opened the email to discover two things: a message from Elley, and an attachment.

Stark,

Found this in old records from when Uncle was doctor. Got to wondering why arm so familiar to Michil and I, had look in paper records. We seen arm before, attached to owner, though Michil said looked different from time before. Not sure what meant by that. Attachment translated from Yakut for you, though considered making practice reading our language. Used official translator in Yakutsk, own written English suspect.

-Elley

PS: Will be wanting details for how ended up with it and where owner is, since he didn't come to Oymyakon with you.

Tony frowned at that explanation, then opened the attachment, at once wondering what could be worth traveling 20 hours to find a translator for. Then he blinked at the content. They'd seen Barnes in 1984?

Date: 30 June 1984

Location: Oymyakon Regional Medical Clinic

Patient Name: James
(family name unknown, not even really sure James is really his name, didn't respond well to being called Soldat in Russian, though looks like a soldier)

Date of Birth: unknown

Appearance: Appears between 23 and 30 years of age. Brown and unkempt, uneven shoulder length hair, stubble/unshaven, blue eyes, unconscious military bearing, left arm prosthetic (metal, with a red star on the shoulder), what appeared to be functional scoliosis when he walked and pivoted to the left

Attire: tactical vest, holster for a weapon on his back (empty), holsters for other weapons (knives and guns, also empty), black undershirt/turtleneck, black pants and boots. No winter or summer gear on person suitable for the Siberian wilderness.

Notes: This patient, a Caucasian male of what appears to be Eastern European descent, was found by two village teenagers, leaning against the wall of one of our buildings, in a profound state of disarray and what can only be described as shock, wearing only the garments described above. As patient did not speak Yakut, and neither teen spoke any of the three languages (English, Russian, and Romanian), communication was initiated with pantomiming and hand signals instead and the teens brought him to the clinic.

Upon verbal examination, patient was discovered to be alert but suffering memory loss, and didn't know where he was, or the date. Alert, but not oriented, even to his sense of self.

Patient spoke three languages while here, two of which I also speak, because I was educated in Eastern Europe before ending up here in Oymyakon, but did not admit to the teens as knowing patient was speaking Romanian as well as Russian and English.
The patient's mental state, which lead me to believe this man was suffering from severe emotional trauma, as well as being severely amnesic and fighting to not remember anything (violently, in fact), led me to suspect conditioning the more he talked, and was further cemented as a diagnosis when the team of operatives arrived to claim him and used a word combination ("zelenyye armeyskiye noski") to subdue him into compliance. Why they'd be using a phrase that translates as "green army socks," I don't really understand.

In the five hours this patient was in my care, we gave him soup, a blanket for warmth, and a dog was brought in for emotional support. Patient reacted favorably to the dog, and the dog stayed with him for the remainder of his stay with us, even growling when the operatives, led by one Colonel Karpov, showed up to claim him. Bliss, the dog, was at that point removed from the clinic by one of the teens, and the Colonel told me to forget the incident. As this is the Sakha Republic... I write this report of the incident in protest of Soviet oppression, and my new family would expect nothing less of me.

Also, as my patient said "they'll find me, they always do," I suspect there was a tracking device on his person. It would make sense if there was one, considering it was five hours from when he was escorted through my door, to them showing up. No explanations from the good Colonel were given, re: state of the patient upon arrival or signs of abusive treatment and conditioning. Of note, was unable to persuade patient to remove the tactical vest or the shoulder holster, even to check him over for any potential injuries.

Diagnosis, based on observation: Severe emotional distress and trauma with amnesic element, abuse symptoms, evidence of some kind of conditioning, unknown type. Hypothermia from exposure for unknown amount of time. Functional scoliosis. Unknown extent of prosthetic limb, possible adhesions and healed injuries from ill treatment.

It should also be noted that my wife's nephew has since taken an active interest in learning about medicine, since seeing how the patient was cared for while here. The other one, his friend, has taken an interest in mechanics and engineering... I suspect due to the patient's prosthetic left arm.

Mykola Oceanus Mazur, M.D.

Tony read the clinic note three times before he really understood what he was reading, and then he had to sit back and stare at the computer screen in befuddlement. He was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't realize how the time had gotten away from him until Pepper was standing at his shoulder, and he jumped. "Pep!"

"You're late for dinner," she told him kindly, then she paused and read the part of the report displayed. "What is that?"

He blinked up at her for a long moment, then stood and motioned for her to sit in the chair. "Elley found something in his clinic records. Read."

Pepper frowned at him, then turned her attention to the monitor and read the report from the beginning with wide eyes. Then she pulled back and looked at him. "Colonel Karpov?"

Tony sighed. "He's dead. May, in Cleveland of all places."

"Cleveland?"

He nodded. "Local law enforcement responded to a call about a kid exploring a house and finding a dead man in the basement, and FRIDAY pinged on the fact that there were HYDRA files found near the body on a table. I'll spare you the details of what happened to Karpov himself."

Pepper motioned to the computer screen. "You know what this means, don't you? He never stopped fighting them, no matter what they did to him. Amnesic, traumatized, and he ends up in the temporary care of a doctor who gives him food, a blanket, space, and a dog."

Tony frowned. "Elley didn't give me a dog. I wonder why?"

"Tony!"

"What? I'm choosing to find the humor in this, because I've taken that trek from the base to Oymyakon in a snowmobile. On foot?" He shuddered. "It was five hours away driving."

"It is?"

"It is."

She studied him, then nodded to the computer monitor. "Get him on the phone. We have questions for Elley."

"We do?" He considered her exression, then nodded. "Oh. We do."

Five minutes later, a very sleepy Elley was looking back at them from the computer screen. "What so urgent can't wait a few more hours?"

Pepper smiled and held up one of the stills from Rhodey's A/V log of Bucky and Steve in Romania, which she still had because she'd not finished her picture project for Rebecca. "Was the long haired one your mystery man with the metal arm?"

Elley blinked, then studied the image for a long, long moment. "That him. Look better in that picture. Yes. Why?"

"Because you, your uncle, and Michil helped him. His sister will be grateful, when we tell her."

"Wasn't with us very long."

"Doesn't matter."

Elley frowned at her as she set the image down on the desk. "Couldn't ask before, when your Stark was here, but... alive?"

Pepper nodded slowly, knowing that if she turned her attention to Tony right then, they'd get sidetracked. "Alive and recovering his memory, last I heard. Also frozen for protection... everyone elses. His name really is James, by the way. James Barnes. And... because I noticed the date of birth field was empty: March 10th, 1917."

Elley paused, frowned as he did the math in his head. "Did not look sixty-seven."

Tony chuckled. "No, and he doesn't look ninety-nine now either! This still Pepper showed you is from May of this year."

Elley simply looked at him for a moment. "Then how did you end up with arm?"

Tony sighed. "That is a long story, Elley..."

They talked for a good long while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael Proctor came into work that morning to find an envelope from Stark Industries Legal Department, and he wondered for a moment if they'd found another angle for the on-paper mock trial they'd been having for his uncle. Then he opened it to find a note from Miss Potts herself, explaining where the attached report had come from... and also what looked like an email printout from someone named "Elley" to Mr. Stark. In somewhat halted English. What had Mr. Stark been doing in Siberia to make this Elley person wonder anything? It did explain, however, what Miss Potts meant about keeping Mr. Stark's part in how they GOT the report out of anything and everything...

Then he read the report and his jaw about hit the floor from shock. "Jane! We've got one more!"

Jane appeared in the doorway to stare at him. "What?" He handed it to her and she read it with a frown. Then her eyes widened. "Oh!" She glanced at him. "Do we show this to Becca?"

"Why are you even asking? She's seen everything else!"

Jane nodded and read the report again. "What kind of a trigger phrase is 'green army socks'? And can I join them for the next HYDRA base they take out?"

"Jane, you're a Paralegal, not a Commando."

"So? Becca's a nurse, and she wanted to go after them."

"And she's ninety-two and eccentric, and interrogated a man on morphine."

Jane rolled her eyes at him. "You're just not going to let me even consider-"

Michael pointed to the paper in her hand. "Add that to what we've got, and then we'll stick it to HYDRA. With paperwork and legal action. Not as exciting as blowing up a base or something, but it carries just as much weight. And besides... blowing things up is partly how we ended up in the middle of an international incident."

Jane winced at the reminder of Lagos and Leipzig. "Good point."

Michael took the report back and frowned. "And try to find any record on a Dr. Mykola Mazur. He mentions knowing Romanian and Russian, and recognizing English... so start in Eastern Europe?"

Jane nodded, accepted the report back. "In the middle of the Cold War, behind the Iron Curtain, on paper records? Sure, I'll attempt the impossible."

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

Michael paused and really looked at her, then shook his head. "Never mind. Be as sarcastic as you want." She smiled and went back to her desk. He sat back down at his own desk and moved to throw the envelope away, when a thumb drive slid out of it. He blinked and silently chastised himself for missing that, and looked into the envelope again to see if there was anything else... there was: a piece of paper with an SI logo and a note from Mr. Stark himself.

Mr. Proctor: Found these when I retrieved the Quinjet that Steve flew to Siberia in May. On the thumb drive are conversations recorded by the plane's voice recorder. To add to your Burden of Proof Brief. If you choose.
-Tony Stark

Michael stared at the note for a long moment before turning to his computer and listening to the files for himself.

Ultimately, he opted not to use them for the Burden of Proof, but the audio files from the Quinjet further cemented his belief that they were doing the right thing in all of this. It did, however, make him wonder what had happened at the Tower, that Mr. Stark would get minutely involved in their defense in this manner.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Miriam showed Michael into the kitchen where Rebecca was seated at the table, cutting vegetables on a cutting board for a salad in preparation for dinner. "Mike has something for you."

Rebecca glanced up at them, returned her attention to the knife in her hand as she finished slicing up a tomato. "Oh?"

Michael smiled and moved to set up his laptop on the table across from her. "Got something from SI Legal on a thumb drive, Grandma."

"Bad?"

"No. You remember anything about a freezer truck and Rockaway Beach?"

Rebecca blinked and really looked at him. "Huh?"

"That was random. Sorry."

Rebecca set the knife down and let Miriam take the cutting board and the knife as she picked up a napkin to wipe her hands off. "Let me think... something about those two having to hitch a ride? It's been a long time, Michael."

Michael nodded. "Then you'll love this, because someone remembers it better than you do." He pressed a button on the laptop's keyboard, and then Steve's voice suddenly filled the air. And, clear as a bell, her brother's voice answered back.

They listened to the all-to-brief conversation, and then Rebecca sat back and closed her eyes, lost in the moment.

Michael glanced at Miriam over top of his laptop with a knowing smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Natasha arrived in a Quinjet under cover of darkness and deftly parked on the rooftop landing pad. Lowering the rear hatch, she smiled as Pepper approached to greet her, Tony not far behind. "You needed a ride?"

Pepper returned the smile. "I did. Where have you been?"

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at Tony, who was staring at her with wide, confused, and suspicious eyes. "Oh, here and there. Did some back-packing through a few places. Lucinda says hello and not to worry about Ross, as long as we're out of here quickly."

Pepper paused, frowning at her. "What?"

"She arranged a limited window, and is also arranging for him to be incredibly busy this week so he'll forget to annoy you with pointless phone calls, or even try to call Tony."

Pepper smiled again. "If she pulls that off, I might just end up owing her a cake or something."

Glancing at Tony again, she sighed. "Are you going to come over here, or are you just going to stare at me?"

Startled, Tony jumped. "I thought this was a private meeting."

"No, you didn't. Now come over here."

Tony approached them slowly. "I... you..."

"We both said and did things," Natasha said sincerely, cutting him off before he could begin to really stammer. "And you're forgiven for being an egotistical and hypocritical jerk. This time. Now, do you mind if I give her a ride?"

Tony shook his head. "Not at all. You... didn't tell me."

Natasha regarded him calmly. "About?"

"Barnes. My parents. HYDRA."

"Would it have made a difference?, if you'd known the possible truth? That HYDRA had maybe changed your life irrevocably?"

Tony blinked at that. "But you knew something!"

"Part of something, and that knowledge wouldn't have changed the fact that they are still gone." She pointed upwards. "And we don't have time for this discussion right now. Insight's window is twenty minutes. We didn't tell you because we didn't tell you, because there wasn't anything to tell until there was suddenly something to tell. And you have a bad reaction to talking about your father in any form with Steve... that's not a defense, and it's something you have to sort out for yourselves. I will not be in the middle, Tony."

Tony nodded slowly. "Right. I'll get the boxes."

Natasha watched him go, then noticed that Pepper had pulled her cell phone out and was working on a text. "Um..."

"I'm sending Dr. Knutz a warning that you just told him he has a bad reaction to Steve mentioning Howard, so he can't get out of talking about it." Pepper glanced at her, smiled. "Thank you. For the ride, too."

Natasha frowned. "Dr. Knutz?"

"Therapist. You'd like him. Tony had to read both Seabiscuit and Laura Hillenbrand's Unbroken."

"Oh." That detail of Tony getting much-needed therapy made her feel better. Momentarily, Tony rejoined them with a hand-truck that was carting three large boxes as Pepper retrieved her own two blue suitcases with wheels. She took the hand-truck from him, smiled. "Now go to bed."

Tony met her gaze. "Keep her safe."

"Will do. Go."

Pepper stepped in and kissed him on the cheek. "I expect you to go to your appointment tomorrow, and Happy will not let you talk your way out of going. Go to bed."

Tony sighed and left them to it, grumbling the whole way.

Natasha smiled. "Other than the obvious..."

"He met Rebecca. Badly."

Natasha winced as she pushed the boxes into the Quinjet, Pepper behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the Quinjet and safely over international waters, Natasha finally allowed herself to relax minutely and set the autopilot for Wakanda. Then she leaned back and looked at Pepper to find her leaning back hard into the copilot's chair with her eyes closed. "First chance to relax?"

"Since May, it feels like," Pepper admitted. "Before that, even. This mess..."

Natasha nodded in understanding. "Sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Feels like it is."

Pepper chuckled. "I've had to play referee between the State Department, the U.N., Tony, the German and Romanian governments... and Rebecca."

That last one caused Natasha to frown. "Why Rebecca?"

"Because Steve is an idiot and can't lie to her to save his life."

"Oh. That letter he sent to her. Right?"

Pepper nodded. "Right. I can understand why he sent her one, because she needed to know, but I ended up having to explain her to Tony. A lot. They... that first meeting didn't happen in a place where she had to hold back, and... well, it's Tony. He didn't know to let her be, or even recognize her on sight. And..."

Natasha studied her for long moments, not missing the fact that she was glowing ever so slightly. Had it been that stressful, that the latent Extremis was showing itself in this manner? "You are allowed to take a break, Pepper."

"I know, it's just... hard. And I told Dr. Knutz to call Tony once a day, outside of his appointments, to check on him because I was going to be out of contact. So between Happy, Rhodey, and a therapist, and a doctor and a mechanic from Siberia... he should be fine."

Natasha frowned. "Siberia?"

"Judging from the logs on the SI secure satellite network, Tony's been calling Oymyakon near-daily."

"What?"

Now Pepper turned and looked at her, frowning. "Wait a minute. This thing has a HUD function, doesn't it?"

"Yes..."

"FRIDAY, show us Oymyakon, Sakha Republic, on the HUD." A map of the Sakha Republic appeared in front of them, a dot indicating the location of the settlement. "Overlay the data from Tony's location beacon for that location and the surrounding area, five hours in any direction by snowmobile." Other dots appeared, indicating where he'd been... "Oh. He's right. That is a long way to walk."

Natasha frowned at the map. "That's the lab, isn't it?"

"It is. Did you know there was a-"

"Red Room," Natasha said succinctly, cutting her off.

"So..."

"You'd be amazed what I know about secret bases in Russia."

Pepper blinked at Natasha's suddenly very strong accent poking through. "I can believe that."

Natasha shook her head slowly and glanced back at their cargo. "So what's in the boxes?"

"The top one is Rebecca and Miriam's family effort, the middle one is art supplies and minor things from Steve's apartment, and the bottom one is from Hope Van Dyne." Natasha turned to stare at her, and Pepper shrugged. "I don't know how she did it, but Rebecca somehow got in touch with Hank Pym and got them to do a version of the Family Get Well Machine out in San Francisco. That box arrived last week."

At that, Natasha smiled. "That explains it."

"So what's been going on while I've been playing referee?"

"A lot."

"We have hours alone together. Spill."

She did.

~*~*~*~*~*~

About mid-day, the day after Pepper left with Natasha, Tony received a package via courier from SI's legal department, from a Michael Proctor...

Mr. Stark,
Thank you for the audio files from the Quinjet. The potholders in the package are from Miriam, as she is grateful. You provided hope right when we needed it, and every little bit helps. Thank you.
-Michael Proctor

Tony frowned and opened the package to find fifteen well-made and colorful potholders with crazy and colorful patterns. He stared at them for long moments before cracking a smile.

Chapter Text

Eleven weeks post the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

It had taken her two days and more phone calls than she really cared to count to medical schools in three different countries to track down even the slightest hint of a doctor in eastern Europe with a name that could have been John Smith in Ukrainian, but finally she found him at a State University in Odessa, close to the Romanian border. Jotting down details, she gave the clerk on the other end their fax number and hung up. "Mike, if you ever have the bright idea of tracking anyone else down with such a common name, I'll slap you silly!"

Michael appeared in his office doorway, amused. "That bad?"

"Did you know that Mykola Mazur is the Ukrainian equivalent of 'John Smith'? Because it is, and the first three clerks I talked to all laughed at me for asking, before the fourth one explained why and proceeded to make fun of my lack of knowledge. So, so glad he put his middle name on that report, or I never would have found him." She stood up and moved to wait for the fax machine, which had just started printing the beginning of a long stream. "And that last clerk in Odessa? Nice guy."

Michael smiled. "Well, there's that. So...?"

"Well, the clerk said that according to his records, this guy worked as a hospitalist in Odessa for a couple years, met a girl whose family was from the Sakha Republic going to nursing school, and they got married, and he ended up the regional doctor in Oymyakon when theirs retired." She frowned. "And I think... no, I knew I'd heard of the place before this. Missionaries. In fact, how much of a story do you want to fabricate for how we'd have ended up with a report like this one, since we can't say how we actually got it? Because I can do it, going the Missionary route."

Michael blinked for a very long moment, staring at her in wonder as she smirked at him. "You can?"

"Sure. Just give me some time to round up testimonies of Missionaries who would have ended up going to Nowheresville, Siberia in the Sakha Republic when the borders opened up again... surely, there must have been somebody who wanted to take the very scenic seven-day cross-country trip to save some souls."

He chuckled. "Right. Put like that, I'd want to go, too..."

"I'll put it on the list of possible vacations we never take."

"Wait... how do you know there's a very scenic seven day trip?"

Jane nodded to her computer. "I have an internet connection and a thirst for knowledge. Look it up. It's fascinating. There's even a dilapidated Gulag somewhere on the route that one can sight-see at. It's not called Stalin's Road of Bones for nothing."

"Jane?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your next Rosetta Language Immersion is on me."

She smiled. "I'm planning on Klingnon."

"Huh?"

"Something frivolous, for the Trekkie in all of us? After this mess?"

Michael groaned and retreated to his office again to concentrate on his own work load, of cases that weren't his uncle or the Avengers.

Five minutes later, Michael appeared in his office doorway again, a puzzled expression on his face. "Wait. Did they really do one for Klingnon, or are you pulling my leg?"

Jane chuckled. "That took you five minutes to question? And no. It was an April Fools gag that Rosetta did."

"That's too bad. After this mess, I'd join you."

Chapter Text

While Pepper dozed fitfully in the co-pilot's chair, Natasha had time to think and reflect as she flew the last few miles in Wakandan airspace. How complicated had things gotten, when she was 'reading the terrain' surrounding the Accords, that she'd managed to forget the bigger picture? A glance at her companion's clearly exhausted form served to further illustrate just how complicated this situation had become since Sokovia... since Lagos... since Berlin and Liepzig. She wondered momentarily about the detail of an unhappy Romanian government. Other than the outright messy arrest of Barnes, why would they still be upset?

Making a mental note to have Pepper explain about Romania when she was up to it, Natasha radioed her approach to Palace security, and thought back to what Steve had said during the Raft prison break, about Thor and the bigger picture that had yet to be filled in.

She had to agree... and it concerned her that it was taking so long for Thor to report back with anything. What was happening on Asgard? It didn't do much good to dwell on it, the not knowing, but it provided perspective that they'd been missing before.

Momentarily, they reached the landing pad that Wakandan Control had directed her to, and set the ship cleanly down before turning off the stealth mode retro-reflectors. Natasha stared at the controls for a moment before turning and watching as Pepper stirred, yawned once, and seemed to relax deeper into the chair. Chuckling silently, she moved to open the rear hatch. "You might want to sleep longer, but we're here."

"Already?" Pepper asked, eyes closed and intent on not moving.

"Yes. Already." She heard footsteps on the ramp after it lowered and went to investigate. She found Sam at the top of the boarding ramp, and frowned. "Where's Laura?"

Sam shook his head. "Change in plans. She went with the kids, Clint, and Wanda to the waterfalls. How are you?"

What kind of a question was that, in the middle of all this? "Fine. You?"

"I've had better starts to my mornings."

And that, she knew, was all she was going to get out of him, especially if he was protecting patient confidentiality. "Feel like doing some manual labor?"

Sam smiled. "Sure. Lead on."

She led him into the quinjet's cockpit, where his audible chuckle startled Pepper enough to catch her attention. "I say again: the Quinjet has landed, Pepper."

Pepper frowned at Sam, then nodded to the front window. "It's too light out. Sun's too high."

Sam nodded. "It's a little after Eleven Hundred. That's to be expected."

She yawned, then stood up. "I should not be this tired."

"Sure, you should. Jet lag." Sam turned and looked at Natasha who was openly frowning. "So... you wanted me to lift something?"

"More like push," Natasha said as she motioned to the boxes still attached to the hand-truck. "Seems that we're loved. At least by the denizens of Brooklyn and San Francisco."

"That's it," Pepper muttered suddenly. "Natasha, you're helping me plan the next vacation I try to talk Tony into." They both turned to look at her in surprise, and she blinked. "What? Every time I try to plan a vacation, I have to check police reports and terror alerts. Doesn't everybody?"

Sam paused, his hand resting on the hand-truck. "Not usually, no. And now I know it's a good thing we borrowed a psychiatrist Steve knows from Doctors Without Borders..."

"Borrowed a what from where? How do you borrow a psychiatrist from Doctors Without Borders? And how does Steve know a psychiatrist?"

Sam smiled. "We offered her a case too intriguing to refuse. As for how Steve knows her... she's someone Rebecca used to work with."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a mostly quiet morning since Bucky had dropped off to sleep on the couch beside him, save several mumbled things about bone saws, and if Steve ever saw another HYDRA agent again, it would be too soon. He glanced up in frustration from his sketch pad to see Sam enter the room and make a beeline for Jill, their borrowed psychiatrist, who had settled down in an armchair and was reading what looked like a psychology journal magazine. Did it help her to read the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology? He hoped so. "Sam?"

"Pepper's here," Sam told him without preamble, and then waved him off when he started to get up off the couch. "No, now's a bad time, Steve. She's exhausted. Natasha's getting her to eat something."

Jill barely glanced up at him from the article she was reading with interest. "Good or bad? And would this be Virginia Potts?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, and as for the good or the bad... she mentioned checking the crime and terror reports in Fiji while planning a weekend. Make of that what you will."

Now Jill looked up at him with narrowed eyes, glanced at Steve, then at the lump of a person laying on the couch next to him under a blanket. Then she sighed and handed Sam the psych journal. "The article on religious fundamentalism seems a bit off color. And is anybody you know not stressed out beyond the telling of it?"

Sam took the journal from her, shrugged. "We work with what we've got?"

"True." She stood up, nodded to Steve. "Finish your sketch. I'll be back to discuss it in a while, depending on how good or bad this is."

"What if I don't want to?"

Jill paused at the door, looked back at him with a wry expression. "Considering that our morning started with flashbacks to 1936 brought on by pancakes? No, you don't get to play that card, Captain."

Sam watched her go, then glanced at the title of the article she'd been reading, and had to laugh at the corrections listed in the abstract. Then he looked at Steve. "I take it that means you're not getting out of therapy today, either?"

"Too loud," Bucky mumbled from beside Steve.

Steve glanced down at him, smiled. "Sorry."

"No, you're not, you punk."

"Jerk."

Bucky cracked an eye open, frowned up at him. "I seem to recall a conversation where I told you not to do something stupid until I got back."

Sam chuckled. "Did you actually expect him not to?"

"No."

"Buck!"

Bucky smiled up at him. "Draw, Steve. Makes you quiet. Want to sleep some more."

Sam settled into the chair that Jill had vacated as Steve rolled his eyes good naturedly and returned to his sketch. It was good to see Barnes ribbing at him, even if it was in the spirit of "be quiet, you're annoying, I wanna sleep!"

A minute later, Steve was staring down at him as Barnes mumbled about a cyclone and getting yelled at, and Sam frowned. "What?"

"Memory. Do I wake him?"

"Not if he's not in distress, you don't. Cyclone?"

"Coney Island." Steve stared down at him for another minute, waiting for more, but Bucky fell silent and his breathing evened out. "He remembers more of Ma. That's good."

Sam leaned forward. "She yelled?"

"Buck convinced me to go on the Cyclone, I threw up, and he practically had to carry me home. How do you think she reacted?"

"Oh." Sam studied him as he dragged his attention back to the sketch pad and stared at it, added something else to it, and then flipped the page. "Steve?"

"Jill said to sketch, right?"

"Yes..."

"She did not say what." Steve flashed Sam a grin and set right to work on a new drawing.

~*~*~*~*~

Having strategically placed herself so she was facing the door in the kitchen, Natasha smiled behind her coffee cup as Jill first related to her in sign language that Sam had told her about Pepper mentioning terror alerts and Fiji, and then pointed at the woman in question's back and asked her to elaborate. Natasha nodded, set the coffee cup down, and leaned closer to Pepper as she picked at the omelet. "So how long ago were you trying to plan that trip to Fiji?"

"February," Pepper admitted after a moment of reluctant chewing. "Why?"

"Curiosity." Her gaze slid to Jill, who was wearing a thoughtful expression on her face, and then asked for further elaboration and if Natasha needed a hand or not. "And I saw you texting Doctor Knutz about not letting Tony out of talking about his reactions to Steve bringing up Howard in any form. You still haven't explained why the Romanian government would be upset, other than the obvious." Jill's brown eyes went wide at that, and Natasha smirked.

Pepper cut off another piece of omelet, glanced at her. "Romanian officials were upset about a lack of a European Union Arrest Warrant, and GSG9 entering the country on a kill order and causing general mayhem instead of letting local authorities into the loop. And then Michael Proctor pushed James's dual citizenship paperwork through and they were even less thrilled about the situation, especially considering that for the entirety of his stay in Romania, James kept to himself and caused no trouble for anyone. They have CCTV footage proving that."

Natasha frowned. "What dual citizenship?"

"His mother was Romanian, remember? Under current birthright law, any child born to a Romanian citizen, no matter where, is a Romanian citizen. That's how Legal explained it to me, anyway." She shrugged. "You asked."

Natasha glanced at Jill again, and Jill signed 'thank you, and that was not what I was looking for, but it'll do. Get her to take a nap before we tell her he's awake.' "It's an interesting topic. Don't you normally need to be present to sign the forms?"

"Normally, yes. In this case... not if you're using the right forms and are a lawyer."

"Hmm... remind me to stop by Brooklyn on the way home and ask him if he needs help." Natasha made a small shooing motion when Pepper concentrated on her plate again, and Jill took the hint and quietly left the kitchen as quietly as she'd entered. "And... CCTV footage? Really?"

"Really. Once I knew what he'd been wearing, I had FRIDAY search through two months of footage in and around that apartment complex in Bucharest." Pepper smiled. "Tony doesn't know I did that. Should we tell him?"

Natasha shook her head and had to choke back an outright laugh. "No. Just... no."

"That footage, plus some other things, are in with the things in the boxes. Including a report that Steve will want to read... and I really hope 'had to remove the dog' actually means 'dog tried to bite mean Colonel' and they gave it a treat afterwards."

"Huh?"

Pepper looked at her thoughtfully. "Just out of curiosity, how do you say 'green army socks' in Russian?" Natasha obliged her, and Pepper nodded. "Thank you."

"Why?" Was it her imagination, or was Pepper not making any sense all of a sudden? What dog?

"Later. Want to finish this."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Again in the kitchen after making Pepper change into sweats and a t-shirt and convincing her to at least try to sleep, and Pepper had pulled this paper out of one of the boxes to show her... Natasha couldn't help but stare at the report. She couldn't begin to fathom how Barnes had gotten away, in full tactical gear no less, but weaponless. Did he even know he had?

"Natasha?" Sam asked from the doorway.

She blinked and looked up at him, then at the sheet of paper again. "I... come here."

Intrigued, Sam joined her at the table, and she handed the paper to him. He read it, blinked in disbelief, and read it again. He frowned at her. "Where-"

"Someone Tony met in Oymyakon found that in their clinic records."

"Oh." Sam considered it for a very long moment, then stood up. "Come on."

"Where to?"

"Time to see if Barnes remembers any of this." She put a hand on his arm and gestured for it. "What?"

"Is that your call, Sam?"

"I didn't actually say I was going to hand the report to him..." He considered her for a long, long moment before handing the paper back to her. Then she motioned to the picnic basket on the counter as she slipped the paper back into it's envelope. "They forgot that?"

"Take it to them?"

He did.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jill was starting to wonder just how long Sam really needed to check on Natasha and Pepper when Natasha appeared in the doorway and told her to send Steve on a run with ASL. She frowned at the envelope Natasha was holding, then shifted her gaze to Steve. "Go get some exercise, Steve."

Steve frowned, but didn't look up. "Want to finish this."

"Steve." Her tone captured his attention and he looked at her. "Go. Come back when you've eaten."

"But-"

"Go. That's a mental health order, not a request." She glared at him until he grudgingly put the sketchpad down on the end table next to the couch, glanced at Bucky (still sleeping), got off the couch, and left the room, brushing past Natasha with a mumbled hello as he did so. Natasha watched him go for a long minute before looking at her with raised and contoured eyebrows. "Now... what's in the envelope that you don't want him seeing?"

Natasha brought it over to her, nodded to Bucky. "He really asleep?"

"He goes between completely out, nightmares, and sort of cute but sleepy and confused for a day or so between every session," Jill said after a long moment of thought as Natasha handed the envelope to her. She shook her head at Natasha's knowing wince. "And so far today, he's fine. Mostly."

Natasha went over and picked up Steve's sketch book, paging through it in thought while Jill read the report with a puzzled frown, then set the sketch book back where she'd found it. "Pepper seemed really random until she showed that to me. Talking about-"

"Stop," Jill said suddenly, and Natasha turned to look at her. Jill nodded to Bucky. "We covered this one, during the first session I was here for, when I was able to get back here after six weeks in the Congo."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and it's good to have confirmation for what it was. Is." She stared at her patient with a frown, then slid the report back into the envelope. "Thank you. I'll make sure Dr. Khamisi sees it."

"Khamisi?"

Jill shrugged. "He explained it was Swahili for having been born on a Thursday."

"That wasn't what I meant, Jill..."

Jill smiled and returned to reading her psychology journal. "Sit, or I'll start asking you all sorts of questions you won't like. It never ends around here, you know?"

Natasha carefully sat down next to Bucky on the couch and wasn't all that surprised when he sleepily frowned up at her. "Hi, there."

"Noise," Bucky complained.

"Ah, you love it," Jill said with a touch of humor.

"Where'd Steve go?"

"Running. Why? You want to go running with him?"

He immediately shook his head in the negative. "Don't want to run over cars today."

"That's good. Also a story we'll be exploring later on. Again." He lifted his head and glared at her, and she shrugged. "Hey, you free-associated going for a jog with running over cars. Don't blame me for your subconscious, Mr. Barnes."

"Natalia?"

"Yes?"

"Throw a cushion at her."

Jill smiled again and returned her attention to the journal. "Do it, and I'll throw one back, just like I would at my kids, one arm or no."

Steve later returned to find a sleeping Bucky with a relaxed smile on his face, and Jill still smirking behind her psych journal.

Chapter Text

A month after the Fall of SHIELD...

Above the droning, accented voice that was punctuated by the speaker eating lunch, Miriam heard the front door open and close several times from her work station in the hallway. Frowning, she finished the paragraph she was in, then stopped the recording and went to see who had arrived home at noon. Rebecca was still... she paused in the doorway of the living room to find Rebecca and Steve, and... "All right. One of you was in the hospital a month ago and should not look like that right now. Why didn't you call for a ride like you said you would, Aunt Becca? And what... Jill, you live in Bangor!"

Dr. Jillian Pentel glanced at her from her seat beside Steve, who looked utterly miserable. "Rebecca got a message to me in Mauritania through Andi, said it was urgent. Took me a month to get out, and I've got two days, then I'm going back. And... hi."

Miriam blinked at that. "Mauritania?"

"Doctors Without Borders mission?"

"Oh. Seriously, what's going on-" Then she blinked again when Rebecca told her, rapid-fire, in Romanian. Then she paused and moved closer to her aunt, who was visibly upset, and really looked at her. "Come again? Because it sounds like the plot of a-"

"Bucky," Steve said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Miriam?" Jill asked, gaining her attention again. "You might want to sit down for this. I heard part of it in the car on the way from JFK, and I'm still reeling." She motioned to the boxes by the door. "Has to do with what's in those, I think. Right, Captain?"

Steve nodded, his eyes downcast. "HYDRA infested SHIELD, there was something called Operation Paperclip where they recruited German Scientists. Among those was Arnim Zola. Zola was the one who..." Here Rebecca spat something out that caused Jill to look at her funny and Miriam to frown as she sat down in an unoccupied armchair. "Right. That. Whatever he did, caused Buck to somehow survive the fall. If we'd known-"

"Stopping you right there," Jill told him. "If you were one of my kids, I'd be hitting you on the back of the head for idiocy. You were in a war zone, correct?"

"Yes."

"In the middle of winter?"

"Yes."

"With the conditions the way they were, could you have stayed, with a prisoner, and searched?"

Steve blinked and looked at her. "I... no. Blizzard and whiteout conditions."

"Then stop kicking yourself and tell us the rest so Miriam can understand."

Steve glanced at Rebecca. "Is she always this forward with everyone? I've only just met her!"

Rebecca's smile was tight. "It's her job, and she's been living in the bush in an African nation. Of course she is."

"And I wouldn't call it 'living in the bush,' necessarily. Refugee camp in Mbera," Jill put in with a roll of her eyes, then looked at him seriously. "And I know defensive mechanisms when I see them, Captain. They don't work on me. So just tell the story."

"Doesn't change it."

"No, but it gets it out in the open. Into the light of day."

Steve took a deep breath, then nodded and looked again at Miriam. "A couple days before the helicarrier incident and SHIELD was exposed, an operative tried and nearly succeeded in killing Director Fury. That operative was fast, strong, and had a metal arm, which he used to catch my shield when I threw it at him. I found out later that the operative was called the Winter Soldier, and Natasha had run into him before. Five years ago, in Odessa." He shook his head. "The details of that aren't really important. A day after that, after Fury died in front of us, and after we were nearly killed when the building we were in at the time was bombed by SHIELD, we were attacked in broad daylight, at rush hour, by that same operative again."

"And you got arrested on live television," Miriam added.

"Right. And you're going to think I'm crazy, that the whole story is crazy-"

"Too late for that," Miriam chided. "Go on."

Steve took another deep breath. "The operative was Bucky." At her frown, he shrugged. "See? It's crazy."

Miriam started to protest, and then Rebecca handed her a file with strange lettering on the cover. She opened it, only to blink at the familiar face, though more still than in any picture she'd ever seen of him, and blue, and a smaller picture paper clipped to that one... "I have questions."

"He didn't know his own name," Steve offered. "And when I recognized him, he... looked right at me with no recognition. We know he did, later on, because we've since talked to at least one HYDRA operative who was there, but... let's just say it was a good thing Sam flew in and kicked him in the head."

"Flew...?"

Rebecca chuckled suddenly, though her tone stayed humorless. "We live in New York, that got invaded by aliens and is home to Iron Man, and the thing you're questioning about this story is a flying person? He has, had a set of fancy military wings."

"Had?

Steve shrugged. "They kind of got torn apart by the Winter Soldier. Sam's fine, by the way. And I'll bring him by when next he visits, so you can meet him."

Miriam glanced at Jill, noticed she was frowning. "That doesn't explain what else happened." Steve suddenly handed her the sketchbook he'd been holding. "And this is?"

"The rest, that I remember, from the tail-end of our fight on the helicarrier, before I woke up in that hospital bed." Steve shook his head. "I don't... can't..."

"And that's where I'm stopping you again," Jill told him, handing him a card, which he frowned at. "That is my contact information, if you ever want to discuss this and do therapy. Until then, don't stop sketching things. It's a good therapy tool."

Miriam flipped through the sketch book to find various drawings of her uncle, hair longer than in any picture she'd ever seen of him. The last one gave her pause. "Steve?"

"Don't know where he is now."

"That's not my question." She held up the sketch. "What happened after this?"

"I blacked out. No idea."

"Which is why you don't know where he is, or even if he's himself."

"Right."

"Also because Steve's unconscious self didn't grab onto him and keep him there," Rebecca put in. At Steve's glare, she shrugged. "Don't tell me that's not possible."

"You done bringing that up?"

"No."

Miriam watched as Jill tried to keep her laughter silent. "Oh, this isn't the half of it. They get going, they're like the most un-grown-up siblings you've ever heard. That, or she tries to be his grandmother."

"I do not," Rebecca protested.

"Which is funny, because I didn't have one, growing up," Steve mused. "Only yours, and Mrs. Edelman. Do we count Mrs. Edelman?"

Jill frowned. "How...?"

"My father's parents died in his teens, and my mother's were in Ireland, if they were still alive. We were poor, I've never been to Ireland, and then the Depression..."

"Oh."

Steve turned and looked at Rebecca with a stern expression. "It's not that I don't understand why you wanted me to talk to a therapist, but... who is she again? All you said on the way to the airport from DC was that we were picking up a friend. The truth, Becca. Preferably in English."

Miriam rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You got Andi to get a message through to Mauritania that got Jill on a plane and didn't explain anything to anyone?"

Rebecca smiled. "In between making sure Steve didn't compromise his recovery, seeing not-dead sneaky people in graveyards, and figuring out just what happened to James, it's been a busy month. So no, I didn't explain. Oh, and Natasha will be calling from the wind, probably, so don't be surprised if she does. And... Jill is family, Steve. There is no one else that I'd trust with you. Not with this."

Steve paused. "Family? Then how-"

"Stop," Jill interrupted. "I explain this better than anyone else. My brother is married to one of her granddaughters. Andi is my daughter, but Rob couldn't have kids due to having the Mumps in college, so he and Kristy adopted her and her twin brothers when they were born. I lived with them here in Brooklyn during and after grad school."

"And she matched to Maimonides," Rebecca told him. "Did her residency there."

"Fun times," Jill said with a smile. She glanced at the boxes and the smile dropped right off her face. "And..."

"Jill," Rebecca said slowly. "As a member of this family, you can't treat James. You know that."

"Have to find him first."

"True enough."

Steve frowned. "Why can't she?"

"Medical ethics," Jill replied. "Or, more specifically, the American Medical Association's code of ethics. I'll have to see if that actually applies to me. In the mean time... Miriam, can I see that folder? I want to make some notes."

"For what?" Steve wondered as Miriam handed it over and Jill accepted a notepad from Rebecca along with a pen.

"You ever tried to go on a ten mile march without a compass, Captain?"

"No."

"Same thing." She glanced at him as she moved to sit on the floor and use the coffee table. "You still have that compass? The one from the newsreels?"

Steve pulled it out of his pocket, showed it to her. "Took a while for SHIELD to give to back to me."

"Hmm... was that day a good day or a bad day?"

"Huh?"

"Was the day that the camera people were there a good day or a bad day?"

Steve stared at her as she opened the folder and started to read. "The... I... good. Mostly. Why?"

"Because..." and here she handed him the small picture that had been paper clipped to the bigger one. "It's something to hold on to, just like that compass. One memory, in the middle of things, that might not seem important, but is. The big picture is important, it tells a story, but so is one moment, one day, one hour."

He stared down at the picture of Bucky, half smiling in his uniform, and then looked at Rebecca, who nodded, and Miriam. "I... thanks."

"That's what I'm here for. And... his PTSD will probably trump yours."

Steve blinked. "What? PTSD?"

"It's not called battle fatigue anymore," Rebecca explained. "Now it's called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Watch it with the acronyms, Jill."

"Why? We can hold entire conversations in alphabet soup!" She glanced up at Steve again. "Golf-Oscar. Echo-Alpha-Tango."

"What if I'd rather stay in here?" Here, Steve pulled a wrapped bar out of his pocket and started to unwrap it, only for Rebecca to clear her throat and hold out a hand. "What?"

"You know what. We have real food here. Give it to me, and any others you managed to sneak into your pockets when we were packing up your apartment with the help of that nice Mr. Wilson."

Miriam watched as Steve sighed and handed her the bar in his hand and three from his pockets. "What are those?"

Rebecca glared at the bars in her hands. "Stark's idea of emergency nutrition. And this is not an emergency situation, is it Steve?"

"No." He sighed and went into the kitchen.

Jill frowned up at her. "I don't understand. I did read some of his file in grad school because it was public information for the medical community, but... huh?"

Rebecca shook her head. "He's got a metabolism that runs fast. These things are are fancy MRE's for missions."

"Ah."

"And... you read his what?"

"He was dead, Rebecca. They don't have to put a confidential hold on the information of a deceased person, and he was one of our case studies." Jill paused, glanced toward the kitchen at the sudden string of words in... was that Gaelic? "Which, from the sound of it, I should have been more tactful." She moved to get up, but Rebecca waved her off. "What?"

"I'd been waiting for that kind of an explosion," Rebecca explained, and went herself. Jill watched her go, shook her head, and settled back down to examine the contents of the file for a while, while Miriam watched her mutter to herself under her breath.

Three or four days before Vienna...

To: PsychologyMom
From: EngineerStudent
CC: WantsToKeepHerMinions
Subject: very odd therapy tool thing

Mom, I'm sending you this because I discussed the demonstration with Grandma Becca and she told me to ask you.
Mr. Stark called the tech he demonstrated "Binarily Augmented Retro Framing", if I remember right, said he'd spend a ginormus amount of money developing a therapy tool for himself that wouldn't have had a prayer of succeeding otherwise. What I saw when he demonstrated it... was a painful-looking recreation of the last time he saw his parents. Or rather, an enactment of really odd (and off) wish fulfillment of the last time he saw his parents. It was somewhat creepy.
My question about this is: how does that help, to access the bad memory and replay it differently? Doesn't that cause just as much upset, knowing you could have had that instead of what you did? I'm confused.
For that matter, how does the hippocampus react to that, accessing it like that?
Many questions here. Sorry in advance.

To: EngineerStudent
From: PsychologyMom
CC: SheHasMinions?
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

Right. Martin, my sweet boy, are you sure you don't want to become a psychologist instead? Still sure you want an engineering degree?
As to your question: get Kristy to send you my Neuro and Behavioral Science text books, along with ones that delve into memory and how it functions. Read that, then text me and we'll chat.
Also: public information on the SuperSoldier Serum. Rebecca can help you with that one.

To: PsychologyMom
From: MyMinionsComeToCoffeonWednesdays
CC: EngineerStudent
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

SuperSoldier Serum? Oh, right. I can!
I'll get him the books, Jill. Plus several others that I've been reading that also delve into memory.
And I thought that, too, about his interest in Psychology. How is the C.A.R.?

To: MeddlingGrandmother
From: Engineer!Student!
CC: PsychologyMom
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

Books?! All I had was a simple question! And I don't want to take psychology! Engineering and proud of it!

To: FuturePsychGradStudent
From: PsychologyMom
CC: FabulousNurse, HeadMinion
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

It's something to consider, that little bit of extra insight into the human condition.
The answer is not simple, and I always direct you to books for the knowledge, Martin. You know that.
Also... you say that Tony Stark demonstrated this thing to an audience? If it was recorded, can I have a copy of that presentation? In the interest of psychology, that is...
And the C.A.R... is wonderful. Basic, and I want a Jason's Pizza, and I miss you all, but I've got Damian here with me, so it's not all bad. (Have Andi look into sending me a Pizza? Please?)

From: TheHeadMinion
To: PsychologyMom
CC: EngineerStudent, NurseGrandma, AwesomeSecretary
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing
Attachment(2): PresentationOfTheTool, PreviousConversationuptoNow

Courtesy of Lucinda, who was being left out of this hilarity, we send you this video that Miriam from the State Department managed to get from MIT. And you didn't have to CC me, I read these things over Aunt Becca's shoulder. Just saying.
Jason's Pizza? Jill, your Brewer, ME is showing. And we'll take you for actual pizza when you get back here. (Daniel chuckled at the thought of International Pizza Delivery and suggested Adam's Rib instead. What is Adam's Rib?)

To: HeadMinion
From: PsychologyMom
CC: EngineerStudent, AwesomeSecretary, HasMinions
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

Dare I ask what's going on at the State Department? Or am I safer not knowing? And... wow, that was a big file to traverse the internet here. Thank you! (Also: Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot?! Who does that with their Hippocampus?!) Martin, you better do some serious reading, because I have a theory and unless you read up, you won't be able to follow it.
Don't knock Jason's Pizza, Mason. And we look forward to it. (Damian misses some pizza joint in Stonybrook. I kid you not.) Do I get to meet the interesting Lucinda?
Adam's Rib! Hah! Someone with a better internet connection than mine give Mason a link to Alan Alda obsessed with ribs!

To: PsychologyMom
From: TheHeadMinion
CC: EngineerStudent, BillSaidSomethingDumbAndGotHomework
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

If you fly into Reagan International, yes you do, Jill. And you're better off not knowing what's going on here. Glad I could help.
I wish Martin happy, extensive reading. Want to hear what the conclusion of that talk is, and so does Aunt Becca.
And tell Damian we have better Pizza than Stonybrook!
Alan Alda? What does Alan Alda have to do with a rib joint named after a bible story? **Daniel hands Mason a M*A*S*H DVD...** Oh...

Two and a half weeks post The Battle of Liepzig/Halle Airport

It had been a pretty normal day in Ituri, Central African Republic for Jill when the two of them showed up at the MSF clinic in disguise. They had seemed like villagers... until she got a closer look and realized that the woman was bald and the man was too tall, too pale, and too well built to be a native. "Steve, is there some reason you're visiting the C.A.R.?"

"We need you," he said without preamble.

"You... need me. Specifically me, or will any psychiatrist that doesn't rate a Dan ranking do? Because I'm here to tell you, I wouldn't be able to kick anyone's butt on one of your missions. Unless you think kickboxing would work." The woman chuckled and Jill glanced at her curiously. "And you would be?"

"This is Shuri," Steve told her. "And I need you, because... we found him, finally."

Jill shifted her gaze to stare at him. "Oh?"

"You didn't hear?"

She shook her head. "I only check my email for family contact. And the internet here is lacking. Where was he?"

"When Sam and I finally caught up to him? Romania."

"And...?"

"And, like I said. We need you."

She glanced away from them and took stock of whom was in the area, spotted her MSF team leader watching them. "I'll be right back."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve watched as Jill first talked to a woman in scrubs, and then a man, also in green scrubs, and was startled when the man nodded and then kissed her. Jill then disappeared into the clinic and reappeared minutes later in jeans, a t-shirt that had "DOWNSTATE" and a graphic of the Brooklyn Bridge on it, with a backpack. "Who was that man?"

She smiled. "That was Damian, my husband. He's got a case right now, or I'd introduce you. Lead on, Mon Capitan."

"You... go on these missions with your husband?"

"Remind me to tell you sometime about wanting to help Africans find water, Steve. Seriously."

"Huh? Can't they find water themselves?"

She paused. "So you've not listened to ANY Cosby? Really?" The dubious expression on his face answered the question for him. "Uh-huh... Rebecca and Miriam are going to get a coded cipher from me, that they've been doing a very bad job getting you caught up. Who leaves out the funny monologues?"

Shuri finally broke her silence. "Agreed, though I've not listened to that, either."

Jill grinned as she followed them. "So where are we going?" The answer surprised her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She studied the man beneath the frosted-over glass of the cryopod for long minutes with arms folded across her chest before turning and looking at Steve with a sour expression. "Exactly what good does it do for him to be frozen?"

"I've been asking myself that same question."

"Steve..."

"Yes?" She stared at him until he shrugged. "I wasn't going to take his choices away from him."

Turning back, she regarded the conundrum of the cryopod again, and sighed. "All right. Out with you."

"Huh?"

Jill pointed to the door where Sam was waiting. She'd only just met the VA Counselor turned Avenger, but she liked him. "I'm kicking you out, Steve. You don't want to take choices away from him? Fine. You don't have his consent to stay because patient confidentiality is now a priority and I have things to discuss with the medical team. He didn't have an advocate, or any rights and liberties, in enemy hands. Now he does, and the information is privileged. Out. Now." She glared at him until he nodded and left the lab. "I expect to see you in the kitchen in an hour and hear that you've both eaten!"

The Wakandan doctor standing nearby chuckled. "Nicely done."

"We'll find out if it was, when I make him do therapy," Jill told him. "So, Dr. Khamisi... I know a whole lot about this patient from studying the Kiev File, but not everything. You've evaluated him. Want to consult?"

Khamisi smiled. "Yes... though you'll find our grasp of this problem somewhat different."

"Oh?"

"It's not just the mind that needs healing, but the spirit as well."

"That's what we're here for: to make sure he gets that chance."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They were waiting in the resident wing's kitchen when Jill finally emerged from the cryolab. "Well?" Sam asked. "How was it?"

She ignored them both while she made herself a cup of coffee with milk and sugar, savored the smell, and began to drink it as if it were ambrosia while leaning against the counter. "Mmmmm... oh. Sorry. Did you say something, Mr. Wilson?"

"Good coffee?"

"I've been in Ituri for seven months."

"Ah."

She shifted her gaze to Steve, who was studying his hands. "Where is your sketch book?"

"Upstate New York," Steve answered without looking up. "And I don't want to draw. I want-"

"Steve," Jill interrupted, and he blinked. "We all want things. We're human. And I'm not going to be discussing the elephant in the cryochamber with you right now. This is you time. So... sketch book. Paper. Something."

Sam's lips quirked and he got up, left the room momentarily, and came back with a pad of paper and a pen. "Will these do?"

Jill nodded and hid her smile as Sam plunked the pad of paper and the pen down in front of Steve and sat down again. "They'll do. For now."

"Why...?"

"Because my son reminded me of something important when he asked an intriguing question about strange tech," Jill explained. "And Steve has an eidetic memory. A lot has been going on that I haven't been privy to, due to being somewhat out of contact for the most part, and I want to see some art."

"Won't help," Steve said as he stared at the pad of paper and the pen. "And I'd rather talk about helping Bucky."

"And I'd like a pizza. Do you see me asking the royal chef to make one?"

He frowned and looked at her. "Pizza?"

"Pizza. Jason's, to be exact. Which they don't have in Ituri. I almost begged Andi to try sending me one in the mail."

"What does pizza have to do..."

Jill sat down and placed a hand on the pad of paper for emphasis. "I need you to tell me a story. In art. Your story. Can you do that?"

"You... want a story."

"Yes. And I don't care where you start. Just tell a story. Draw." She waited until Steve picked up the pen and began to draw, and then she motioned Sam into the hallway. "We'll be right back." In the hallway, she regarded Sam with a critical eye. "So, tell me. How, other than the man in cryo, did he get into a worse state than when I saw him a month after D.C.?"

Sam frowned. "Worse?"

"Yes. Worse." He explained, and was treated to Jill swearing in French and running for where she'd left her backpack in the kitchen.

Steve looked up in mild amusement as she pulled a laptop out of her backpack. "Jill?"

"Draw, Steve. I have something to talk over with Khamisi and Sam. We'll be back."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The video of Stark showing off the BARF system was short, creepy, and caused Sam to turn and look at the cryopod with raised eyebrows. "So it wasn't just-"

"No. It wasn't just a bad revelation," Jill muttered. "And Martin's right for being concerned. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do with technology. Have a question for you, since you've seen Stark recently. Was he showing signs of mental stress, like headaches?"

Sam paused. "When we were discussing the Sokovia Accords three days before the UN bombing, he mentioned having an electromagnetic headache, actually. Why?"

"Smoking gun." At his frown, she motioned to Bucky. "He has amnesia, yes? From repeated ECT? Well... how do you get amnesia? Do you know?"

Sam shook his head, while Khamisi nodded silently. "Not the finer mechanics of it, no."

"Among other things, damage to the Hippocampus. Which Stark was playing with, just to relive moments with his parents to 'clear' traumatic memories. And James, here, had some form of the Serum and has been recovering since DC, and still isn't, according to you, Doctor, back to normal, even if at times he might seem like he is. Two people with overstimulation to the brain, from different directions."

"And then the video in Sibera," Khamisi mused. "He probably didn't just see it. With how over-stimulated his Hippocampus is or has been..."

Jill nodded. "Right. He probably lived it the same way Steve sees his flashbacks." She looked at Sam, who was openly staring at her. "There's a reason I've got him drawing, Sam. And we're not telling him this right now. Later, maybe. He's got enough to worry about without this."

"Why?"

"Does telling him solve anything?"

"Oh. No. No, it doesn't." He studied the frozen image of Stark standing on stage at the end of the presentation. "And someone else needs their medical confidentiality, too, don't they?"

"Yes, even if they were playing to an audience and basically showing the world their problems with a giant neon sign, to the point where an engineering student that doesn't want to take psychology had a question or three."

"Huh?"

To: ShouldTakePsychology
From: PsychologyMom
CC: NurseandHeadMinion
Subject: Re: very odd therapy tool thing

Good observation, Martin. Can't tell you much until our discussion, but... never stop being observant.
Rebecca? We are adding things to read up on: the differing forms of Amnesia, too, as well as Autism and overstimulation. Why? Something came up in discussion of a thing. Thing was stupid... but if I say any more, I have to use 5-cipher.

Chapter Text

A month after the fall of SHIELD...

In the kitchen, Rebecca paused in the doorway and simply took stock of the situation. Steve was sitting at the kitchen table with a banana and two other pieces of fruit, staring at the banana in his hand with an expression of dislike. "So... was the explosion about the crop changeover, or what you heard Jill say about grad students and your medical records?"

Steve blinked, shook his head. "Ma liked bananas... and I signed my medical rights away for Project Rebirth. But... to hear it put that way. I'd forgotten. Maybe Jill-"

"Steve," Rebecca interrupted as she pulled a chair out and sat down with a sigh. "Stop."

"What?"

"Deflection doesn't work on me, either, and it's okay to mourn. To let yourself have a moment or ten of whatever."

He put the banana down and stared at her. "It was seventy years ago for you."

"But not for you. And really, it's more like seventy-five or eighty." Rebecca made a face. "And to say it like that, makes me feel old."

"You're not."

Rebecca smiled. "Are you trying to flatter me, Steven Grant Rogers?"

"Would you like me to?"

"No, and it doesn't get you out of this conversation, either. And I miss her, too, Steve." She looked away, blinked several times, and then looked at him again. "And if someone were here like they're supposed to be, he would tell you the same thing."

Miriam leaned into the kitchen from the living room. "All clear?"

Rebecca motioned to the fruit. "He forgot about the changeover. Again."

"Ah. Stop forgetting, Steve. Eventually, there could be impressionable children around, to learn bad words in Irish from you."

Steve threw the banana at her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At a diner in Catonsville, Maryland, a waitress is pouring coffee for one of her infrequent regulars, a doctor on his way home from Austin, when he asks her a question. "Sally? Does he look overly thin to you?"

She paused and followed his line of sight to look at the guy sitting at the next table over. He was staring at his bowl of fruit with an expression of mild confusion. "Oh, him? Veteran if I ever saw one, with that posture. Why, Doc?"

They both watched as he picked up a piece of banana out of the bowl with his fork, stared at it, and then put it in his mouth, only for his eyes to widen in surprise and shock and had to spit it out into his napkin amid foreign-language obscenities. He repeated the action several more times with the same result, each time with the same result. Then he pushed the bowl away in disgust and massaged his temples. Then Doctor Mackenzie sighed. "Sally, get him a bowl of soup. Something bland. And... maybe scrambled eggs?"

"Huh?"

"Looks like he's been in the ICU recently. Which means fruit is probably a bad idea right now."

She pursed her lips in thought. "We've got cream of mushroom today."

"That'll work."

Doctor Mackenzie watched while rushed off to fill the order of soup and eggs. "Hey... you all right?" A soft moan was his only immediate answer as the young man continued to massage his temples with both gloved hands.

A couple minutes went by like that in silence until Sally returned with the bowl of soup, a plate of toast, scrambled eggs and hash browns, and a chocolate shake. "Rodney said that if he's that thin, a shake with protein powder in it couldn't hurt. Did the VA center let you go too soon, hon?" She set the tray down on the table to unload, and blinked when a knife came out, pointed at her with a fear-laced glare. "Okay... definitely veteran. Afghanistan?"

"Huh?" the man asked, blinking up at her with startled blue eyes, then he realized she'd set a food-laden tray down on the table. "Where'd that come from? I only ordered fruit! And it doesn't taste right!"

Not taking her eyes off him, she nodded to the doctor. "He ordered for you. Probably thinks you're recovering from a Whipple or something. Are you?"

He shook his head. "Liquids."

"Ah. Can I have the knife, sir?"

"Sergeant."

"Can I have the knife, Sergeant?" He blinked again, stared at his hand with the knife in it, then handed it to her wordlessly. "Thank you. Eat what you can, don't try the fruit again if it doesn't taste right."

"What's a Whipple?" the Sergeant asked as he looked over at the doctor in confusion.

Doctor Mackenzie smiled. "It's a surgical procedure where, among other things, part of the pancreas is removed. And I was just thinking ICU, Sally. Go on, Sergeant. Eat. It'll make me feel better if you do."

"And no coffee for you," Sally told him with a stern glare while she handed the knife to Doctor Mackenzie. "Not if you're fresh out of a VA center or returned from combat and pulling knives on people when surprised."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. My brother Bill did the same thing three times before Dad took his knives away and had him talk to a therapist."

"Have two more."

"Going to pull those?"

"No."

"All right, then. You can keep them." She waited while he started to hesitantly eat the soup first, then turned to Doctor Mackenzie. "Watch him. I'll be back."

"Go on. We'll be here." And as Sally walked off again, Doctor Mackenzie had time to study him. His clothes weren't much to look at, between the red t-shirt and the jacket, and the jeans, but they were clean, if slightly drab. And the baseball cap held his long hair out of his face... that, for some reason, seemed familiar, but he couldn't place why. He was on the young side, maybe twenty-five or thirty. Presently, he finished the soup and moved on to the eggs and the hash browns hungrily.

Sally returned again, and showed him a book with the title 'Clinical Nutrition for Dummies.' "What do you think? Give it to him? I can get another copy if I need to. And the Dietetic Manual is too technical."

Doctor Mackenzie gestured for it, paged through the book to look at the contents, and handed it back to her. "Good idea."

She smiled, then turned and handed the book to the Sergeant. "Here."

He frowned at the title. "I'm not a dummy."

"No, but it's simple and easy to read. And very good."

"I can't pay you back."

"And I am not asking you to. It's a gift, Sergeant." A tap on her arm, and she glanced back to find that Doctor Mackenzie was holding out a business card. "Oh, and the doctor, here, wants you to have this." She gave him the card, and he stared at it.

"How... huh?"

"Good question. Doc?"

Doctor Mackenzie smiled. "I want you to call, update me on how you are, Sergeant. If you want. Or come by if you're ever in the New York area. Either is fine."

The Sergeant nodded and accepted both the book and the card. Then he tried the chocolate shake and frowned at it. "What is this? Reminds me of D-Rations... only better-tasting."

The meal continued without incident, save for Doctor Mackenzie wondering what D-Rations were and the Sergeant suddenly wondering if Croissants were good.

4 July, 2016

Seated in a chair next to the card table and watching the party with a satisfied smile on her face, Rebecca couldn't help but notice that Pepper hadn't yet stopped introducing Tony to the relatives. Right then, she was introducing them to Jill's brother, Rob, and Kristy, who looked less than enthused, even from this distance.

"Grandma?"

Rebecca blinked and turned toward the voice to find Andrea standing there with a puzzled expression on her face. "Yes, Andi?"

Andrea pulled up a chair, sat down, and pulled a folded up piece of paper out of her pocket. "You wouldn't happen to know why Mom would send me a telegram for you, all the way from the C.A.R. and put it in code, to tell you that you're doing a horrible job getting Steve caught up with pop culture, would you?"

Rebecca paused, sorting through that question, then shook her head. "No. You have it?" Andrea handed it over, and Rebecca unfolded the paper to find an official telegram with a message of scrambled letters, and the translation... "What kind of coding is that?"

"5-cipher. You know... basic cryptography."

The message:
Rebecca and Miriam,
You left out the funny monologues and didn't tell SGR about Cosby!
Bad! Very bad!
Everything fine here.
Waiting for the Turkey born in March to Defrost.
Don't want to wait until November. This annoying.
-Jill

Rebecca frowned again. "Andi, how long have you had this?"

"A couple weeks. I knew I was going to see you here, so I didn't drive in from Stony Brook." Andrea sighed. "It seemed really trivial, and she'd been complaining about the lack of Pizza, before, not turkey. Was that wrong?"

Miriam passed by right then, on her way to check the card table, and Rebecca snagged her hand. "What?"

"Read," Rebecca told her, and handed her the translation. "And no, Andi. You were right to wait to give it to me."

Miriam chuckled suddenly. "Well, he is a Turkey!"

Andrea blinked. "Huh? Steve's a March Turkey?"

"No, Andi. Who in this family was born in March? Famous? Got killed, then not killed, then went missing? Framed recently?" She watched the comprehension dawn in Andrea's eyes. "And Jill... We have to add one, if she's with them!"

Rebecca stood up, looked over to where Rob and Kristy were still talking to Pepper and Tony. She smirked, then marched straight to them after swiping the telegram back from Miriam.

Andrea watched her go, then looked at Miriam. "So... how are things at home?"

Miriam rolled her eyes. "Let's just say, that if she's going over there toward that man willingly, that it's a good thing her cane is in the car."

"That bad?"

"Could be worse. Is it possible to send a return telegram?"

Andrea shook her head. "No, I checked. You can send a telegram from the Central African Republic, but you can't receive one."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kristy saw her grandmother coming, purpose in her stride, and stepped aside gratefully to intercept her. "Thank you!"

Rebecca smiled. "Boring?

"Not entirely, but Rob talks endlessly about robotic surgical procedures given half a chance," Kristy told her with a shrug. "And I hear about it at dinner, sometimes. What's up?"

Rebecca handed her the telegram. "Still have those Cosby albums?"

Kristy frowned at the message. "So... we're calling him a March Turkey, now?"

"Miriam loved it. Well?"

Kristy nodded. "Still have the Cosby albums, yes. Why?"

"Think you could make copies, to send to her?"

"Is this for the Get Well Project?"

"It is."

"Then yes. I can do that. Think she'll want Foxworthy and Engvall?"

Rebecca paused. "Which were they, again?"

"Right. I'll bring them to your house and we'll have fun deciding." Rob glanced over at them, questions in his eyes. "Jill wants comedy routines in Ituri!"

Tony frowned. "Who wants what where?"

"My sister," Rob explained with a smile. "On a medical mission in central Africa. So, Mr. Stark: you were saying, about improvements for MRI machines...?"

And as Tony launched into a technical explanation, with lots of technical jargon, Rebecca smiled at Rob's efforts of distraction. Even if it was about an MRI machine.

Three days ago...

Stepping out onto the busy sidewalk outside the grocery store, carrying one small bag to the two bigger ones her grandmother was holding, she started to walk away when she noticed that her grandmother was standing still, a puzzled expression on her face as she looked across the street. Frowning, the young girl followed her gaze to find a man in shabby, torn clothing with long hair and stubble looking back at them. Were it not for the stubble and the hair... no. Even she knew that was impossible. "Grandma?"

Her grandmother jumped, startled, and looked down at her. "Miriam?"

She nodded to the man, who hadn't moved and was watching them with a blank expression. "See him, too."

Her grandmother frowned, then shook her head. "Let's go home, child."

Miriam followed her, glancing back one more time at the man...

...and woke in the dark with a yell on her lips that woke Daniel next to her and brought Rebecca to their bedside with wide eyes. She panted for long moments as Rebecca turned the light on and Daniel rolled over to look at her funny. "What?"

Daniel shook his head. "Should be asking you that. What's going on?"

"It's nothing. Just a dream about shopping with Grandma, and seeing a homeless man..." She paused. "Wait a minute! That actually happened!"

Rebecca sat down on the side of the bed. "What did?"

"We both saw a guy with long, uneven hair, at least a day's worth of beard growth, torn and shabby clothing, that sort of looked like old pictures I'd seen of Uncle James." Miriam frowned. "When was that? I couldn't have been more than ten or eleven. And that makes no sense! If that actually was Uncle James, what was he doing in Brooklyn, staring at us from across the street!"

Rebecca studied her with a frown, looked behind her at Daniel who had by now sat up and was watching his wife with wide eyes, then nodded to herself and left the room.

Miriam frowned. "Where is she going? What-"

"Miri. We have a near-complete record on what happened to him. If you were ten or eleven, then it was the seventies," Daniel explained calmly. "And we know he got away from them at least once, only to be captured again. So maybe..."

"Maybe seeing him the way we did via Pepper's tablet sparked some memory?"

"Could be."

Rebecca returned just then with the thick binder, pulled the chair over from the corner of the room, sat down, and laid open the binder on the bed. She turned pages until she got to a particular page and read the entry. Then she looked at Miriam. "You... the spring of '73, he somehow got away from them on a mission and went off the radar. They tracked him to New York, where they caught him again. Probably not long after you two saw him."

"So we... we just walked away-"

"Stop," Rebecca told her sternly. "Twenty-eight years removed from '45, and he basically hadn't aged. Long hair. Scruffy. Ratty clothes. If I know my sister, her priority was you and not the scruffy guy on the street corner who reminded her of someone close that died in action. Think about it, Miriam. What's your first priority if you see a threat and have a child along?"

"The child," Miriam said immediately, then frowned. "Oh."

Rebecca nodded, pain clearly in her face. "Exactly. Hazel had no way of knowing that the scruffy guy, the potential threat, was actually who he looked like, with traumatic amnesia and in need of someone, anyone to help him. So she did the smart thing, the parental thing, and walked away. No one is at fault, here. She couldn't have known and you were eleven, and had only ever seen photos of him in black and white."

"But still-"

"But nothing, Miriam. It's over and done."

Miriam stared at her, at the way she was holding herself together in the face of this revelation. "You said the same thing to Steve."

"Still true." Rebecca stared down at the open binder, tears welling in her eyes behind her heading glasses. Then she took a deep breath and looked at her again. "And you know what this means, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"He remembered. Not enough, but he did. He ended up here, in Brooklyn. Hazel never went into Manhattan to shop for groceries."

"She didn't, did she?"

"No." Rebecca sat back and looked at them, Daniel watching her over Miriam's shoulder, and Miriam still in that state of 'is this real?' that would probably last a while. "And it's times like this that I miss her more, you know? Usually, I don't allow myself to think about it. It's just..." She blinked when Miriam scooped the binder up, handed it to Daniel, and wordlessly hugged her. Over Miriam's shoulder, she watched as Daniel looked down at the binder in his hands, then shrugged and set it aside. He joined them in the hug. "So, so glad you two wear pajamas..."

Miriam laughed, but did not let go. "I miss her, too. I miss Grandma Winifred, and I barely remember her!"

"Dan?"

"Hmmm?"

"You going to let go anytime soon?"

"No."

"Okay..."

Chapter Text

Fifteen or sixteen days ago...

Jill was working on a case summary for a patient she'd seen in clinic that morning when someone entered the room she shared with her husband in Ituri. Not looking up, she sighed. "Just a minute, sweetie. This was a hard one."

A decidedly feminine chuckle sounded. "Dr. Pentel..."

"No, that's my husband when we're on site together. I'm Dr. Mackenzie, or Dr. Mac. Hang on." She finished writing, closed the file, and looked up to find Shuri standing there looking at her funny. "Oh. Hi. These case files don't write themselves. What's up?"

"Sergeant Barnes was defrosted yesterday," Shuri told her. "Mr. Wilson and Dr. Khamisi thought you'd want to know."

Case file forgotten in her hands, Jill stared at her. "What?! Of course I wanted to know! I wanted to be there!"

"Hey, Jill. Caroline wanted to know when you'd be done with that case summary," Damian said from the doorway behind Shuri. "And... huh? What's going on?"

"James is awake," Jill told him as she stood up, moved around Shuri, and handed him the file. "And she can have it. Done."

"That's good news," Damian said slowly. "And hello, Shuri." Shuri nodded in return and they both watched while Jill slipped her laptop computer into a carrying case and started pulling clothes out of drawers. "Jill?"

"I have to go," she told him. "You know I have to. I can't not. Be out in a minute. Love you."

Damian looked down at the file in his hands, nodded. "Yes, you do. And I love you, too. Be safe. I'll get this to Caroline."

He left and Jill turned to look at Jill. "What was the bright idea, not telling me until the day after?"

"Captain Rogers was impatient."

"Of course he was."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caroline looked up from her own paperwork as Jill entered the clinic's office with her laptop carrying case, backpack, and suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

Jill nodded to Shuri. "I'll be back, but my patient woke up yesterday. Trauma victim."

"Same one?"

"Same one."

Caroline nodded. "Then fine. I want regular email updates from you, and we'll consider this an MSF case. That way, I don't have to tell the office that you're not here."

"It kind of is, Caroline. Besides, under the Good Samaritan standard, if I can act, I have to act. I can't not. And there is no one else who can, aside from those already on site, and I've studied his records."

"There is that." Caroline looked at Shuri directly with a stern frown. "You take good care of her, Ma'am."

"Of course," Shuri answered with a nod.

Outside, Damian met up with her and they shared a moment under Shuri's watchful gaze.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They arrived back in Wakanda from the Central African Republic a little after dinner time and Jill was greeted by Khamisi who then had to explain about their visitors and what was going on, and that they'd done the first session already. "All right. Fine. How is he?"

Khamisi frowned. "Other than the disorientation from coming out of cryosleep?"

"Yes, Khamisi. Other than that."

"Mostly fine, considering what the man has been through."

Jill nodded. "Show me the session recording, then I'll go see him myself. Why didn't you call or email?"

"Things happened quickly. I'm sure Shuri told you about the impatient Captain."

"She did. And he better have been sketching like he said he was this whole time, too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After viewing the session tape and a long discussion on the psychological ramifications of such a treatment, Jill allowed Shuri to lead her to the kitchen where her patient was playing Chinese Checkers with Cooper and Lila while Steve, Sam, Clint, Laura, Wanda, and several members of the Dora Milaje watched in concerned silence. She set her bags and laptop case against the wall, then put her hands on her hips. "Ordinarily, I'd find this situation concerning, what with all the concentration on an adult and two children. Really? Isn't it just checkers?"

Steve stared at her, then at the emblem on her blue scrub top. "Eastern Maine Medical Center?"

"I don't comment on your uniform choices, Steve. I'm from Maine, and I felt like representing today. Answer, please. Particularly why I'm late to this in-progress party."

"You're mad."

"Incensed."

Steve winced. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Steve. I get it. I'm really annoyed, but I get it." She stared for a moment at Bucky, suddenly realizing he hadn't looked up at all since she'd first said anything. "Is he that interested in the game, or... I don't want it to be an or. Please say it isn't."

Steve sighed. "It just sort of happened after dinner, and Cooper accidentally gave him a mission to play Chinese Checkers without realizing he'd imprinted on him."

Jill took a deep breath, let it out. "So he's dissociated? Right. At least it's a board game." She took a step back, looked at Shuri. "The ladies don't have to stay. We've got this. Wanda can immobilize him and the guys can tackle him if this turns ugly. It probably won't, but..."

Shuri nodded and signaled the ladies of the Kings guard to leave the room. "I'll leave one outside the room, just in case."

Jill smiled at the dry humor in the other woman's face. "Fair enough. Even with one arm, he's probably capable of a lot of damage, and would hate it if things got out of hand." She turned back and watched as Lila took a turn, moving her red marble one space across the board, and Bucky took his turn with the blue ones. "Chinese Checkers? Good choice! Can I join, kids?"

Cooper smiled at her as he took his turn, and then Lila did again. "Sure, Dr. Pentel! Clear or light blue?"

"Clear," Jill told him as she sat down at the round table on the side of the board with the clear marbles. Bucky, or whomever he was in his head at the moment, didn't even glance up as he moved another blue marble out of 'home.' "Introduce me?"

"Can't!" Lila said. "Playing the game!"

Laura tapped Jill on the shoulder. "He's been that focused since we realized what happened. Steve even failed to get his attention."

"Ah. I take it the mission was to play a strategy board game, Cooper?"

Cooper nodded. "It was really more of a question, and... then this."

"That's fine, Cooper." She frowned, looking between them, then at the adults, and back to Bucky again. "Cooper? Did you touch him?"

"Huh?" Cooper blinked, startled at the question, then nodded. "I think so?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam swearing under his breath and knew she was on the right track. "Can you show me where you touched him?" Cooper started to reach towards Bucky's arm. "No. On your own arm or your father's. Not his."

Clint bent down and presented his arm, and Cooper laid his hand on a point near Clint's elbow. "Like that?"

"Yeah. Like that, Dad."

"Your turn," Lila sang out, having missed the significance of the moment while watching Bucky take his own turn.

"No, silly," Jill said, and moved her clear marble out of 'home.' "My turn. I'm playing, remember? Now you. Cooper's busy having a moment."

Cooper blinked up at his father. "What did I do?"

Clint shook his head. "We'll talk about it later, all right? Play."

Just then, Bucky shook his head, blinked, and stared at the game board. "Wha... what the hell? Weren't we eating?"

Laura clucked her tongue. "Really, Sergeant. There are kids present."

He looked up from the board to stare at her. "Laura?"

"Hmmm?"

"Who is this lady? And why are we playing Stern-halma? And... huh?"

Lila pouted suddenly. "Aw, I wanted to finish the game! Boo!"

"Emma, pouting isn't helping me."

Jill saw Steve wince and moved to motion for Laura draw Lila away from the table. "Right, then. Not oriented, not that I'd expect you to be right this minute. I'm Jill, by the way. Also your grand-niece-in-law. And she's not Emma. And... Stern-halma?"

Steve nodded. "That's the German name for it."

"Oh, really? Interesting. Clint, why don't you and Laura take the kids, Wanda, and Steve into the other room to finish the game, hmm? And Wanda? You can lower your guard now."

Wanda looked down and her hands, suddenly realizing she was glowing. "Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. Natural as anything to be high-strung at the moment." Jill shifted her gaze to Steve, who clearly looked unhappy. "Don't. We'll talk later. Choices, remember? This one is mine. Git." Steve sighed and allowed Clint to push him out the door while Wanda carefully picked the game board up, and Laura led the kids out as well. Then Jill turned back to look at Bucky, who was staring at her. "Now, then. Sam, tell the Dora Milaje to come in here while you go and get Khamisi, and tell him I want a vitals kit. We'll wait."

Sam frowned, then did as he was told. Momentarily, the guard Shuri had left outside the door joined them, but did not approach.

Jill then turned back to look at her patient, who was still staring at her. "You know... it's been a long day for me. You mind if I get a glass of water?"

Bucky shook his head. "No."

"Would you like one?" At his nod, she went and filled two glasses of water. "Fujo?"

"No thank you, Dr. Pentel," the woman said with a solemn smile.

Jill returned the smile, and returned to the table, placing the second glass within his reach, but sitting on the opposite side of the table. Then she went and retrieved her note pad from her backpack, along with a pencil.

"You didn't have to make them leave," Bucky said after a minute or two of silence.

She stood up slowly, pencil and pad in hand, and looked directly at Fujo, whose expression was as close as the Dora Milaje ever got to incredulous. "You think so?"

"I'm fine. I just... what happened?"

Jill turned back to him, then sat down again at the table, and collected herself while making several notes on the pad. "Cooper touched you, is what happened." She set the pencil down and showed him on her own arm. "About here. He didn't know that doing that was a bad idea, especially with you."

Bucky frowned at her. "Especially with me?"

"Did you or did you not spend six weeks in cryofreeze because you were afraid of being triggered?"

"I... yes."

"That's why." Jill resumed making notes on the note pad, and was saved from replying when Sam re-entered the room with Khamisi. "Take his vitals, would you? With your permission, that is, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky frowned at Khamisi. "What?"

Sam sighed. "You had a dissociative episode and played Chinese Checkers with the kids for an hour. Lila won the first time, you the second, and Jill interrupted the third. You know the rest. And she's the Psychiatrist who has been studying your file since SHIELD collapsed, if she didn't tell you already."

"More like a month after the fact," Jill told him. "Your sister called me in to talk to Steve and I had to get out of Mauritania. That takes time. And I read the Kiev File, and saw other things that Rebecca and Steve found in the vault where you were kept in DC. So... I know a lot. And, unless I'm wrong here... Cooper touched you on the arm, right where one of the manacle things restrained you."

"Vitals cuff," Bucky said automatically, then blinked in realization. "Oh."

"Yep. Oh."

Khamisi stepped forward slowly and placed his equipment on the table so Bucky could see it. "Stethoscope. Blood pressure cuff. Thermometer. Pulse oximeter. Otoscope. Just like yesterday and earlier today. May I take your vitals, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky nodded. "Yes." He noticed that Khamisi was careful not to touch his forearm while he called out numbers for Jill to write down.

"Breathe in and out for me... Thank you." Khamisi listened, and then switched to looking in Bucky's ears with the Otoscope. "Ears and lungs clear, heart sounds normal."

"Thank you, Khamisi. Put your kit back together and pull up a chair. Sam? Sit. Standing over us makes me nervous, and Fujo is outside the door, keeping watch just in case." Jill put her pencil down again and looked at Bucky, who was peering at the three of them with suspicion. "I can see the wheels turning, James."

"Bucky," he said, and then grimaced slightly. "My name is Bucky."

"Maybe with Steve it is," Jill said slowly, making a note to discuss that reaction later with Sam. "But not with your family, and not with me. And you're going to get used to hearing your name, your proper name. It's yours. No one can take that from you."

Bucky stared at her. "They took it. They took everything."

"And we are not HYDRA or the KGB. So yes, you are Bucky... you, sir-"

"Sergeant," Bucky said automatically. "I was an NCO, not an Officer."

"You remember that much?""

"Yes."

"Good. You, Sergeant, are James Buchanan Barnes. No one can take that away from you. Do you understand why it is just us, Sam, Khamisi, and Fujo right now?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not exactly."

Jill sighed. "Khamisi? Were patient rights explained to him?"

"No, because I made an assumption that someone already had."

"That stops right this minute, then, and I will be explaining to Steve later, too." She stared at her notepad for a long moment before looking at him again. "I was in Ituri this morning. Know where that is?"

"No," Bucky answered.

"It's in the Central African Republic. You know what I tell each and every one of my patients, before moving on to the next step? They have choices. You have choices, James." She held up a hand before he could say anything. "One my patients this morning was a trauma survivor... sixteen or seventeen. Pregnant. Probably has amesimamia msumari, too. I had to leave before the lab work came back, so I don't know."

Bucky frowned at that. "What's... ames-what?"

"AIDS. Do you know what that is?" The expression on his face told her that he didn't, and she nodded. "Doesn't matter right now, but the reason I bring up my patient is because she has rights, and choices, and so do you. You are a trauma survivor, and if you don't want to do something, or if you don't want someone present, then you have that choice. Steve didn't want to take your choices away and let you have yourself frozen, and neglected to mention that there was a choice. So... choices. We are not going to take them away, and you get to make them. Good and bad. Understood?"

Bucky considered for a moment before nodding. "I think so."

"All right, then. First question: do you want Steve present for your deprogramming sessions? I ask this because Khamisi actually cut your session short earlier today because Steve was there when he shouldn't have been. And... Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Was he on edge all afternoon, before Cooper sent him into dissociation by accident?"

Sam paused, thinking about the day, then nodded. "He was."

"No I wasn't-" Bucky began to protest before Jill silenced him with a look that gave him deja vu.

"No lying, remember? I am going to be honest with you and you are going to be honest with me. That is how therapy works, and there will be days when you hate it. So... do you want him present?"

"No," Bucky said after a moments hesitation. "I don't. It's... hard."

"Then he won't be." She eyed his tank top, then stood up and went to the door, and got Fujo's attention. "Go get an extra-large short sleeved button-down shirt for me? One big enough to fit the Sergeant." Fujo nodded and went to do as asked. A couple minutes went by, and then the woman came back with a plaid button down shirt. "Thank you, Fujo." She turned back, considered the three men sitting at the table as she walked back to it, and sat down. Then she handed the shirt to Sam. "Help him put that on."

Sam frowned at her. "Huh?"

"A tank top doesn't seem odd in this situation, Counselor? For a victim of trauma who was subjected to repeated cryofreeze and was frozen just yesterday or the day before?"

"Barnes, do you-"

"Yes," Bucky said immediately and Sam stared at him. "What?" Sam shrugged and helped him into the shirt.

"Nothing. And she's right. It's something we should have thought of."

Jill nodded. "Creature comforts are important." She glanced around the kitchen and noted the squawking end of a baby monitor on the counter, then looked at Sam. "And now that I've covered patient rights and some patient confidentiality, why don't you two gentlemen go and tuck our patient into bed? He's had a busy day from the looks of things."

"I'm not tired," Bucky said through a yawn, and Khamisi had to hide his smile while Sam rolled his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing in the doorway to the common room, one of two on this floor of the Wakandan palace residential wing, Jill watched as Wanda won the game by getting all of her marbles into 'home' first. "Done, now? Because I've got a topic to discuss if you are."

Clint nodded. "I think they are. What topic?"

"Hephephobia."

Laura frowned. "That's not fear of cows, is it?"

Jill chuckled, finding the humor where she could. "No. Fear of touch. Anxiety of any kind at being touched unexpectedly."

Clint nodded. "Had some of that for a while after Loki. Why?"

"Because," Jill said as she moved to sit down on the floor and lean against the door jam. "Cooper? That spot where you touched James on his arm? It's a contact hotspot. He was already not okay and disoriented."

Cooper winced. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, hon. I'm just making you aware so you don't do it again. If you want his attention, talk to him. No touching. Understand? Touching is an issue for him." She shifted her gaze to Steve, who was staring at her. "Certain people can get away with that, because they're certain people. And you saw... he slipped in his head between past and present and thought Lila was Emma."

Steve tilted his head in curiosity. "What contact hotspot?"

"He called it a vitals cuff. You know... the chair in the bank vault?" She demonstrated on her arm. "Thing that attached right here, but had nothing to do with the actual restraints?"

"Oh. Did you know that before?"

"I suspected. Didn't know for sure until he confirmed it." Jill glanced at Cooper again, noted how alarmed he was. "And you... you did nothing wrong. Understood? You were being you. Just be aware of these things, that there is a history of trauma. That is all I ask, Cooper."

"Yes, Dr. Pentel." Cooper frowned. "What chair?"

"Not your concern, kiddo. How about another game, hmmm?" She smiled and watched as Laura reset the game board yet again. Then she noticed that Lila's hand was up and she was waving to get someone's attention. "Lila? Something you want to ask?"

Lila nodded. "Who is Emma?"

Steve watched as Jill heaved herself up off the floor and left the room, then looked at Lila. "Emma was one of Bucky's sisters, Lila."

Lila frowned. "Was? Isn't she anymore?"

Steve stared at her, unsure of how to answer the question. "Um... Clint? Help?"

Clint took a deep breath and put his hand on Lila's small shoulder. "She's been gone a long time, honey. She got very sick suddenly and there wasn't anything anyone could do."

Lila mulled that over for a minute, and then... "Does Uncle Bucky know?"

Steve shook his head. "Haven't been able to discuss that yet, and unless he brings her up, you can't either."

"Why not?"

"I'll field this one," Jill said from the doorway, her laptop computer case and the baby monitor in her hands. Setting the laptop case on the floor, she slid once again to the floor to lean against the wall. "Play another round. Lila? You want to see pictures?"

"You've got pictures of Emma on your laptop?" Steve wondered.

Jill nodded. "Mason tried his hand at putting together a slide show when I was home between missions, to keep Rebecca's spirits up, and I ended up with a copy of it. Hope matters, you know? It's not a lot, but... some?" Lila and Cooper joined her, and she smiled. "Both of you?" They nodded eagerly. "All right, then! Slide show!"

"Jill?" Steve wondered. "Couldn't we just show those to-"

"Play the game, Steve. We'll talk about that later."

They played another round while Jill showed Cooper and Lila the slide show that Mason had put together from his fathers photo albums.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the kitchen again, this time with Steve while Sam leaned against the counter, Jill studied him for long minutes before sighing and taking the baby monitor out of her pocket and setting it on the table between them. "So tell me about this."

"Clint didn't want me straining my hearing yesterday, listening for nightmares," Steve admitted.

"Well, good. At least someone was using their brain yesterday. Obviously, you weren't."

"Jill-"

"Steve." She stared at him, anger flashing in her eyes at his confusion, then took a deep breath and let it out. "It could have been worse than dissociation and a board game, Steve. My priority here is safety. Yours. His. Everyone. You don't do the stupid thing and forget to explain to a child about post-traumatic stress and forget that it exists, as if you could wave a magic wand and have everything be perfect in an instant. Do you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "No. And Steve? Plastic bags in the street."

Steve frowned at him for a moment. "This isn't the same-"

"Steve?" Jill interrupted, capturing his attention again. "It is the same. And you didn't call me, and Khamisi didn't call me... and the idiot here didn't call me. No offense, Sam."

"None taken. I do feel idiotic right now."

Jill glanced at him, nodded, and returned her gaze to Steve. "You want him to be all right? Fine. The path to wellness is fraught with reminders and setbacks. Lots and lots of reminders and setbacks. And James? Well... I was right. His PTSD trumps yours. And no, we can't just show selections from Dave's albums of Emma and her family in those fifteen years after the war. I'd love to, but I have no idea how James will react to that, seeing her with babies in her arms and then finding out how she died. One thing at a time, here. Establish safety first. You all failed to do that today."

Steve winced. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Steve. Do better. And that brings me to my next topic... James doesn't want you in the sessions." Steve opened his mouth to protest, and she held up a hand to stop him. "Choices, Steve. And he has rights, just like you do. This is his choice, and you are going to let him make it. No arguments. And anyway, you've got your own therapy to focus on. You owe me a story."

Steve frowned again. "What if I don't feel like it? And why do you keep telling me to draw, anyway?"

Jill sighed. "I keep asking you to draw because I am trying to give you therapy tools that you were not given at the time of Project Rebirth. Dr. Erskine didn't have that opportunity, to do that with you, did he?"

"I... no. Therapy tools?"

"Let me put it another way, here. How vivid can your remembrances be?"

"You mean my eidetic memory?" Steve wondered after a long moment of silence. "They can be incredibly vivid. Why?"

"That's why I want you to draw. So you can project what you see in your mind's eye onto paper or canvass, for others to see, so you are not dealing with the image on a loop on your head ad nauseam. It's the first step in Art Therapy, which is a way to use media to solve psycho-social problems." She studied him for a moment. "You didn't have an eidetic memory growing up, did you?"

Steve shook his head. "No."

She looked to Sam. "And that time you had him at your home after his hospital stay, did he have nightmares?"

Sam nodded. "Every night. And... oh. I get why Rebecca would have called you in from Mauritania, now."

Steve sighed long-sufferingly. "It was a hard month, Sam."

"And you were having issues before HYDRA popped up in SHIELD's clothing."

Jill chuckled suddenly, and they both stared at her. "What? It's a good analogy." A sudden moan that turned into sentences in Russian erupted from the baby monitor at her elbow and caused the three of them to stare at it. Jill blinked in surprise. "I'm guessing that's not good?"

Steve shook his head and moved to stand. "No, it's not."

"Sit."

"Huh?"

"I'm enforcing patient rights, even for nightmares, and he didn't want you present for sessions. Sit. We'll go." She handed the baby monitor to him. "And I'll be turning the other end off for a couple minutes."

Annoyed, Steve sat back down and watched Jill and Sam rush out of the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When they reached the bedroom in question, Fujo was peering in the open doorway and the light was on. She noticed them skidding to a halt, and shrugged. "Not sure if that's one language, or two different ones mixed together."

Jill looked into the room and listened to the man tossing and turning for a minute. "Sam? Does that sound a little bit like Romanian to you? I don't speak it, but words here and there are familiar."

Sam cocked his head, listened. "A bit. Shouldn't we be-" Jill pushed him into the room. "Hey!"

"He knows you better and you're a man. You wake him. Gently," Jill told him as she followed him into the room at a distance. Sam went to the bedside and shook Bucky's right shoulder hard, ready to jump back with little warning.

At the third shake of his shoulder, Bucky sat up with a gasp and Sam jumped back. Bucky stared at him, panting. "Gabe?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Barnes. Jill?"

"Careful," Jill said as she reached the other side and picked up the baby monitor's listening end. She turned it off with impudence. "James? Back with us yet?"

"What the hell is that thing?"

Jill set it back down on the nightstand and looked at him wryly. "It's a monitor. The other end is in the kitchen in Steve's hands. And is he Sam or Gabe?"

"Sam."

"Good." She moved slowly back toward the door, out of his immediate reach. "Will you tell us what the nightmare was about?"

"Milk," Bucky said after a moment of silence. "Just... milk."

Jill considered that with a small frown. "Milk?" Then she noticed that his eyes had glazed over. "Oh..."

Bucky nodded, dazed. "Heard her coming. Her name was Renata. He killed her."

Her frown deepened. "Where are you right now?"

"Director's kitchen. He killed her. She came back for her cell phone. Saw me. He gave me orders: two targets, level six. Time limit ten hours," Bucky explained in a monotone as Jill glanced at Sam to find him staring at Bucky. "Tracked targets to causeway, to a bridge. Eliminated non-target. Targets became three. Mission failed. 'Who the hell is Bucky?'"

Sam frowned. "And then what happened?"

"Unknown. Mission reset." They watched as the blank expression turned to one of confusion. "The man on the bridge. Who was he? ...I knew him." This caused Sam to blink as they watched his face morph between expressions for a minute before... "But I knew him." and making that same grimace they'd seen in the kitchen. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed back into sleep again.

Jill carefully approached the bed and pulled the covers back over him. She stared down at his sleeping face, shaking her head ever so slightly. "Who was the eliminated non-target?"

"A HYDRA SHIELD officer, named Stillwell," Sam answered. "And... I think I owe Steve an apology."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Jill reached over and turned the monitor back on, then ushered Sam out of the room. She paused at the door, looked at Fujo. "If he has another one, wake him. Carefully."

Fujo nodded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Returning to the kitchen, Jill went straight for the note pad she'd left sitting on the table, sat down, and began writing notes on it while avoiding Steve's gaze...

Dissociation
Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Complex Trauma
Not Oriented to Person, Place, or Time following events
Director and Milk
Renata...? Person killed by Director. Cell Phone retrieval, saw patient in kitchen? (will need clarification)
"Who the hell is Bucky?" -from the patient himself, during dissociative episode, past event
Mission Reset/Wipe/Conditioning -post events of very public causeway/bridge fight/attack in DC which resulted in Wilson, Rogers, Romanoff arrested on TV
"The man on the bridge. Who was he?" "I knew him." "But I knew him." -associated grimace made, seen earlier in discussion with patient
Non-Integrated Remembrances of Events, switching between two affected personalities (The Asset and The Patient? Soldat and The Asset and James Barnes?)
Haepephobia/Anxiety response to contact hotspot

Jill stared at the list, sighed, and set her pencil down, then massaged her temples to assuage her growing headache. "Sam, you had something to say. You should. In the middle of all this, it's a small victory."

Steve turned to look at him as Sam leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. "Sam?"

"You were right, back in DC. He remembered you."

Steve paused. "I knew that already, Sam. Rumlow told us when Rebecca interrogated him while he was on Morphine."

Jill snorted at that. "It's not funny, and remind me never to make her mad, ever. I just... wow. What we just watched... Sam, am I wrong, or did he make that same grimace earlier with us when he told me he wanted to be called by his nickname?"

"You're not wrong," Sam told her, then frowned. "Headache?"

"Long day. And if Arnim Zola weren't dead, I'd join Rebecca in dancing on his bones."

"Peirce blew him up," Steve offered.

Jill snorted in laughter again. "Steve!"

"What? It's true." He leaned closer to get a better look at her notes, and frowned. "Non-integrated? What does that mean?"

Jill flipped the note pad over and glared at him. "Patient confidentiality, Steve. I haven't actually evaluated him yet, and these are preliminary observations. I'm assuming there's non-integration, I don't actually know if there is or not."

"Oh."

"And right now, I want Vodka." A cup of coffee suddenly appeared in front of her, and Jill stared first at it, then at Sam. "Is this decaf?"

"No."

"Thank you. Have a question for you two: did he have nightmares last night?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Mostly, he was dead tired and blank. Why?"

"Psychological curiosity." She looked firmly at Steve. "You knew he was this unstable in his head and didn't call me or come and get me, while the medical team was defrosting him. Defrosting takes time. Time enough to use your head and plan ahead."

"Jill, we didn't know if you'd be able to get away-" Steve stopped short at her glare as she took a sip of her coffee. "What?"

"Excuses. And this is an emergency situation with a trauma survivor, of course I could have gotten away from my MSF team for this. I'm here right now, aren't I? You don't get to use the 'I had other things on my mind' excuse, Steve."

Steve sighed and sat back in his chair, his posture almost melting into it. "In Bucharest, he was more closed off and spooked than I'd ever seen anyone before. Didn't want me there, trying to help him, and even said that GSG9 had a good strategy with the kill orders."

"Can you blame him?" Jill took another sip of coffee, eyes missing nothing about how he'd deflated into the chair. "Seventy years in enemy hands, Steve. Two years free means nothing when everything comes crashing down again."

Sam nodded. "It doesn't, no."

"And you need to be prepared for setbacks. A lot of them."

"I am," Steve answered immediately.

Jill stared into her coffee cup, then looked at him again. "No, you're not. You think you are, but... this? You're really not. And you won't even do your own therapy without coaxing."

"I... huh?"

"Draw, and then we'll talk about what the drawings represent. Sort of a cross between Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy and Art Therapy, but you have to be a participant in it for it to do any good. That part is up to you."

"Oh."

"Like I said at Rebecca's house in Brooklyn: a therapy tool. And you said yourself earlier that Dr. Erskine didn't have the chance to work with you on that aspect. What were you using to deal, before? Exercise and a punching bag?"

Steve stared at her. "Yes. And I ended up in the USO instead."

Silence descended between the three of them while Jill tapped a finger on her upside down note pad. Then she smiled. "Draw Dr. Erskine for me? The first time you saw him?"

"Why?"

"Why not? I'm curious, and it is a good place to start. Or continue, as the case may be..."

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the lab, Jill found Khamisi and a tech doing tests on blood samples. "Ah, good. I was hoping you'd take my hint, there."

Khamisi glanced at her. "I did the standard Chem20 and associated tests for Hypothermia, but it didn't occur to me to do one for sexually transmitted diseases. Why'd you think of it?"

Jill shrugged. "Universal precautions. If a woman of childbearing age can't not get asked if there's the slimmest possibility that they might be pregnant, then a trauma victim needs to be tested for STD's. That, and I've spent a lot of time in third world countries."

"Ah." He handed her the clipboard he'd been holding. "The first few tests we've been able to get results on, so far."

Jill took the clipboard and studied the list of negatives, including... "Good. No slugs in his system."

"Slugs?"

"I know so many euphemisms for the same disease..." She paused. "I know it's an odd question to ask, but can you email the other results, the Chem20 and the associated test results for Hypothermia to my laptop?"

"Why?"

"Would you believe I want to tell someone something without putting it in 5-cipher or sending a coded telegram?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

To: BaltimoreDinerLover
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HasMinions, StonyERDuo,
Subject: In need of a review...
Attachment: AnnonymousLabWork

Rob? Look these over for me, please? Thank you. You other two, ER child and nephew! Also look. Need feedback, don't care how we get it.

To: PsychologyMom
From: BaltimoreDinerLover
CC: HasMinions, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

Those don't look that bad. Recommend bananas and other fruit, oatmeal... bland diet for the time being. Do labs again in a couple days and we'll see about considering something other than a bland diet.

To: PsychologyMom
From: StonyERDuo
CC: HasMinions, BaltimoreDinerLover
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

That's what James thought, too. Where has this person been, that their numbers look like that, Mom? And... why are you doing all the tests for someone who has had hypothermia exposure?

To: StonyERDuo
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HasMinions, BaltimoreDinerLover
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

You're not far off... they're recovering from hypothermia. (Good job at test identification combination, Andi.) And thank you, Rob. Not so sure I'll be giving patient bananas, but yes to the bland diet.

To: PsychologyMom
From: StonyERDuo
CC: HasMinions, BaltimoreDinerLover
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

Hypothermia... in central Africa? Now I've heard everything.

To: StonyERDuo
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HasMinions, BaltimoreDinerLover
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

You do realize there was snow in Egypt recently, yes? It's NOT that unheard of. Also... Limnic eruptions. Lake Nyos.

To: PsychologyMom
From: StonyERDuo
CC: HasMinions, BaltimoreDinerLover
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

Thank you, Jill. Neither one of us needed that particular nightmare about volcanic lakes on or near the equator. -JP
What he said. -Andi

To: PsychologyMom
From: FamilyTranscriptionist
CC: BaltimoreDinerLover, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: In need of a review...

She didn't tell me why, but after seeing this conversation, I think I understand why Aunt Becca started laughing so much she started crying... Really, Jill? Limnic eruptions and snow in Egypt?
From Aunt Becca: "Thank you for allowing us to review your labs. Concur with Rob on the bland diet. Also suggest Jello and meatloaf."
-Miriam (who is confused and would like an explanation for suggestion of Meatloaf now...)

Jill looked up from where she was sitting in a comfy chair that Fujo had helped her abscond with from another room to place next to the door, and glanced at her sleeping patient thoughtfully. "Jello and Meatloaf?" At the sound of her voice, Bucky began to stir, and Jill closed her laptop. "Did I wake you? Sorry."

He opened his eyes and stared at her as she set her computer down and picked up a piece of paper that Steve had drawn on. "Um..."

"You seemed to sleep better with someone in here and the door open," Jill explained. "And good morning. Remember me from yesterday?"

"A bit."

"Is that the truth or are you telling me what I want to hear, James?"

He sat up, then sighed. "Patient rights."

"Glad to hear it."

Bucky motioned to the paper in her hand. "What is that?"

She smiled. "Oh, this? Art therapy. Steve drew Dr. Erskine for me. Nice looking older man, kind of reminds me of William Proctor. A little, anyway."

Bucky paused at the familiarity of the name he couldn't quite place. "William?"

Jill nodded slowly. "Rebecca's husband? I didn't know him very well or for very long, but he was nice."

"I... don't-"

"Stop, James. And I'll have Steve draw him for you later, since I know you met him before the war. It's okay, right now, that you don't remember him. That was a test, to see where your memory stops and starts." She stood up and brought the drawing over to him, set it on the bed next to him, then retreated to the chair again. "And do you see that white thing on the night stand?"

Bucky turned and looked to find an innocent-appearing device with a small antenna. "What about it?"

"That is a baby monitor. Usually used to monitor infants so the parents don't have to be in the same room while the baby is sleeping. The other end is in the kitchen." He turned to look at her, confusion clearly written on his face. "And while I do not condone monitoring anyone without their knowledge, this was necessary. Is necessary."

"I'm not an infant."

"No, but you are recovering from trauma. I just wanted you to know you are being monitored in this manner. It's off right now, because I'm here and Shuri is on guard in the hall. In fact... Shuri? Come in here and introduce yourself to the Sergeant." A woman stepped into the room and nodded to him. "James, this is Shuri, one of the Dora Milaje. She and her fellow guardswomen have agreed to be your guard in shifts."

Shuri smiled at him. "Good morning, Sergeant." Bucky nodded in reply and she stepped into the hall again.

Jill motioned to the drawing. "Take a look?"

Bucky glanced down to find a drawing in a style he recognized, of an older man standing next to what had to be an MP, in front of an open curtain. He picked it up to get a better look, and blinked in recognition... "I saw this guy."

"Oh?"

"He was at the Expo recruiting station." He blinked again, shook he head. "Arguing with Steve, over trying to enlist? That... I... bathtub."

"Bathtub?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "William. Becca. Bathtub. What were they doing in a bathtub in uniform and a veil-"

"Stop," Jill told him as she picked up her notepad and pencil and wrote more notes. "And we will find the answers to your questions. All right? One thing at a time, and memories sometimes have weird connections. A smell, a picture... a drawing."

"I know that. I have twelve journals."

Jill paused. "Twelve journals? Where are they?"

"They were in my backpack that the taskforce took away. I want them back." He watched her frown and then stand up.

She stopped in the doorway, looked back at him. "I'll send Sam in to help you get dressed, James."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the common room, Steve was helping Clint with a language lesson for the kids when Jill interrupted them. "There were journals."

Steve looked at her in confusion. "Huh?"

She sighed and looked at Clint. "James says he had therapy journals in his backpack that the taskforce relieved him of. How possible is it to get it back?"

Clint smiled. "Unofficially or officially?"

"Either."

"Very."

"Good." She glanced at Steve. "You're going to have to explain William and Rebecca's bathtub wedding, among other things."

"How do you know about the bathtub wedding?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "I've seen Rebecca's wedding album. How else?"

Yesterday...

The first psych exam of the day had gone all right, Jill reflected as she read over her case notes on her laptop screen and listened to idle banter while Steve made pancakes and bacon. Glancing at her still-one-armed patient as he talked with Sam and Clint, she smiled. If things stayed like this, they'd be doing Session Seven today. Maybe. It depended on how well he was on any given day... and other than the expected nightmares, he was fine today.

She glanced at Steve again, noted that he only had one in the pan and none on the counter... "Where are the rest? You've made more than that by now."

"Oven," he answered.

"Oh."

"You like bacon?"

"Who doesn't?"

This was actually the second breakfast shift, as Laura and the kids had eaten earlier and were now in one of the two common rooms with Wanda, holding their first lessons of the day. Today, it was martial arts with the Dora Milaje, which would be happening later, and math.

Presently, Steve took a baking sheet out of the oven that was piled high with pancakes, and plated them onto plates set up on the counter. "Jill?"

"One," she answered. "And I'll join you in a minute." She lost herself in the case notes briefly until a familiar but weirdly emotionless voice said: "The commander made Flapjacks." She swung around so fast she nearly fell off the stool, and peered at the four men sitting at the table. Three of them were staring at Bucky, who in turn was staring at the piece of pancake on his fork.

Before any of them could respond, he spoke again, still without any inflection: "On mission. Wanted flapjacks. Got flapjacks. Sarah made better ones." He blinked, ate that piece, and blinked again. "Hospital room, faded away. Made me promise. She didn't have to make me promise. Would have, no matter what."

Jill looked at Steve, who was staring at his own pancakes, a lost expression on his face. "What is he talking about?"

"Ma. Tuberculosis. I didn't get to see her, before."

"Oh." Slowly, she tried to take the plate away, but Bucky dropped the fork and pulled it back. "Right. Keep the plate."

Bucky glared at her. "Commander Rumlow. Flapjacks. Only one that would. That did. They were awful. Worth it."

Clint shook his head. "Something tells me this is a little more complicated than Brock Rumlow making pancakes for The Asset."

Jill nodded. "He was on a restricted, mostly liquid diet."

"That'd do it."

Bucky's expression softened, and emotional inflections appeared in his voice that caused them all to startle at the difference. "Em tried, morning of the funeral. Didn't taste right. Close, but..."

Steve nodded absently. "No, she didn't quite get them right. Left out the cinnamon."

"Pассвет. Pассвет. Pozharnyy vykhod. Posle nochi, kotoraya izmenila vse. V odinochestve." Bucky blinked again, then groaned, and Jill placed a restraining hand on Steve's shoulder. "Fire escape. Alone. Not alone?"

"Buck?" Steve said, trying to break the cycle. "We were together, that time, on the fire escape."

"Alone," he repeated, then spit the word 'daybreak' again out in Russian. "Not alone!" Then he blinked again and his eyes cleared, and he looked at Steve. "You were there."

"Yes," Steve answered, and then his jaw dropped open in shock when Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, right into the uneaten pancakes still on his plate.

Sam deftly lifted Bucky's head and removed the plate and fork. Then he glanced at Jill, who was still standing next to Steve, with a hand on his shoulder and a frown on her face. "At least he had a cushion. And what was that?"

"A trigger coming unraveled," she answered. "We've run into twisted memories with other triggers. And... fire escape, Steve?"

"He followed me outside. We watched the sunrise."

"Hmmm... finish your breakfast, then we'll get him to the couch in the common room."

Steve turned and watched her go. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Later."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laura looked up from leading Lila through a math problem to see Jill standing in the doorway. "Wanda? Take over for a minute?" Wanda nodded, and she joined Jill in the hallway. "What's up?"

Jill glanced into the common room, then sighed. "We just had a trigger unravel."

"Oh. Good? Bad?"

"Pancakes. And somewhere in between." Jill shrugged. "And I know Natasha's due later on, and that you were planning on meeting them, but... could you take the kids to the waterfall instead for their lesson with the ladies?"

Laura nodded. "Better not to have them here, making noise?"

"Something like that. Though it's more about insulating them and protecting them, really. Just because they know about the PTSD, doesn't mean they have to or should see us dragging him to the couch because he passed out at breakfast."

"Good point. And the more energy we can get them to get out with exercise, the better, anyway."

Jill glanced into the common room again. "How's the math coming?"

Laura smiled. "Not too bad, actually."

"That's good."

Translation from Russian

"Pассвет. Pассвет. Pozharnyy vykhod. Posle nochi, kotoraya izmenila vse. V odinochestve.": Daybreak. Daybreak. Fire escape. After a night that changed everything. Alone.

Chapter Text

Now...

When Pepper awoke, it was to confusion as she stared at the ceiling, listening to the familiar click-clack of someone typing. For a moment or two, she wondered if Natasha really had picked her up in a Quinjet after midnight.

Rolling toward the sound, frustrated that he'd brought a computer bed yet again... she stopped and stared at the sight of an unfamiliar, brown-haired woman typing on a laptop. She was about Miriam's age, or maybe a little younger, barefoot, wearing black leggings and an over-sized t-shirt that said 'SUNY-School of Optometry.' "You're not Tony. Who are you?"

"Annoyed that I actually have to write a case file update where the trigger was pancakes," she muttered, more loathing and disgust in her voice than Pepper had ever heard anyone speak with before. "What was the moron doing, anyway, feeding someone on a liquid diet pancakes? Idiot. I don't care if he's dead, he's still an idiot."

Pepper blinked in surprise at that and sat up. "Pancakes?"

"Yes. Pancakes. He was a moron." She typed some more, then paused. "Wait. Did I remember to tell Martin to look up bland diets along with everything else I'm making him read?"

"Huh?"

Then the woman looked toward the door, blinked in confusion, and looked at her. "Oh. Thought you were Shuri coming to give me an update. She's on duty and has the baby monitor. Good morning and welcome to our crazy corner of the world, Miss Potts. Hopefully, today won't be as bad as yesterday's trigger unravel with pancakes."

"Who are you?" Pepper wondered again. "And... baby monitor? Pancakes?"

The woman chuckled and held out her hand, which Pepper shook awkwardly. "I'm Dr. Jillian Pentel. How are you?"

"Fine, I think. What-"

Jill motioned to the wall of art that Pepper had noticed when Natasha had led her in here. "I've been using this bedroom as a sort-of office. That is three weeks of Art Therapy for Steve. And after the madness yesterday, I needed a few minutes to myself, even if there was another sleeping person involved. Even if you glow in your sleep, you're not likely to dissociate and tell me about the Hungarian Uprising. And I'm choosing to blame Natasha."

Pepper considered all the sketches mounted there. "That's a lot."

"I wanted him to tell a story," Jill explained as she glanced at the boxes parked over by the door. "When he finally got the hang of it, I started confiscating sketchbooks. Go on and see to your hygiene needs, all right? Then I'll give you the run-down and we'll discuss whatever is in those."

"You mentioned a baby monitor. For what?"

Jill paused, studying her with her eyes. "What did Natasha tell you, about what's going on here?"

"Mostly she told me about the Helicarrier and ops she's run behind the scenes since May by herself."

"Ah. Sergeant Barnes is awake... not much loving life at the moment, but it's therapy. He's not supposed to love it. As for the baby monitor... originally, it was for Nathaniel, now it's to monitor James due to nightmares. I'm not kidding about the dissociation and telling me about some seemingly-random historical thing in very different circumstances that makes no sense until I look up the details."

"Oh."

Jill sighed. "And Steve's not on nightmare duty, in part because he also has nightmares on occasion. I'm on it, and I wanted to get plastered after the first one." She shook her head at Pepper's questioning expression. "I learned a lot. It was just traumatic to watch and listen to."

"Are you usually this honest with patients?"

Jill smiled at her. "Not usually, and you're not my patient. I heard what you said about Mike, paperwork, and dual citizenship for James. If I can't be honest with you, given that Mike trusts you, then who can I be honest with? Also, I apologize right now for sign language subterfuge."

Pepper stared. "So you're who Natasha was looking at... and wait. That was yesterday?"

"You slept for eighteen hours."

Pepper nodded. "I didn't realize how exhausted I was."

Jill smiled again. "Take better care of yourself, please. Oh, and you won't be seeing Natasha today. We sent her on an errand to Berlin."

"What? Why?"

"Clint told her she needed to covertly steal a backpack, back from the JCTF. No, that's not a joke. We really do need her to steal a backpack."

Pepper mulled that over for a minute as she stood up and stretched. "Right. Where's the bathroom?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

To: EngineerStudent
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HeadMinion, SpunkyNurse, StonyERDuo
Subject: More reading for you...

If we didn't add it, Martin: Bland diets. I know that seems unrelated, but things keep coming up.

To: PsychologyMom
From: EngineerStudent
CC: GrandmaNurse, HeadMinion, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: More reading for you...

I can't wait until you actually explain why you keep adding things, Mom. And yes. You did.

To: PsychologyMom
From: StonyERDuo
CC: GrandmaNurse, HeadMinion, EngineerStudent
Subject: Re: More reading for you...

...and that's the second mention of bland diets, this time in relation to Martin's extra curricular project that he hadn't yet stopped complaining about. Seriously? First the wacky telegram about a Turkey born in March (Miriam loved that, by the way), and now this? Mom!

To: StonyERDuo
From: PsychologyMom
CC: EngineerStudent, HeadMinion, SpunkyNurse
Subject: Re: More reading for you...

What can I say? I like to cover all the bases, Andi. It'll be a well-rounded discussion!
Martin! Stop complaining and read!

To: StonyERDuo
From: EngineerStudent
CC: NurseGrandma, HeadMinion, PsychologyMom
Subject: Re: More reading for you...

A telegram about a turkey? Right. I'll add that to the list of details that make no sense. I wasn't even aware that Western Union was still in the telegram business... didn't they stop that in 2006 or something?
Mom, I've been doing the reading. It's just that there's a lot to wade through. And I can complain if I want!

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Pepper returned from the bathroom, having changed out of the borrowed sweats and t-shirt (which was oddly college-themed... Farmingdale?) and into her own clothes, she found Jill smirking at her laptop computer screen. "Something funny?"

Jill nodded. "I did tell Martin to read up on bland diets, and Andi is annoyed about the telegram I sent through her to Rebecca and Miriam, and now this. And Martin's not sure what to make of it all. Still wondering if I should send another, saying the March Turkey has been defrosted, or if making Rebecca laugh so hard she couldn't type is enough. Am starting to wonder what Andi and Martin are doing up this early in the States..." She glanced up at Pepper, who was staring at her with an odd expression. "What?"

"The March turkey?"

"Oh, that? I couldn't put what I wanted to say in an email, because I have no idea how far the monitoring actually goes and if it's being watched or not, so I sent a coded telegram, and referred to James as a Turkey born in March." She shrugged. "Obviously, they got it, seeing as Miriam apparently found the description hilarious."

"How do you-"

Jill blinked, and held up a hand to forestall the question. "Were you at the party?"

"I... yes."

"Then you probably met Kristy and Rob, right?"

Pepper frowned, thinking back to the party. "Rob... doctor? About forty-five or fifty? Married to Rebecca's granddaughter Kristy?"

"That's the one. He's my brother."

"Oh... so you're the one who wanted comedy routines in the Central African Republic."

"Not entirely. Steve somehow managed to miss Bill Cosby while getting caught up... and if you heard about even part of the message, Andi's in so much trouble."

"Why?"

"Because she had that telegram for three weeks and didn't drive in from Stony Brook." Pepper looked at her funny, and Jill sighed. "But I guess it doesn't matter now, and I get to send a new one." She closed her laptop, set it on the nightstand, and stood up to stretch, looking at her wrist watch as she did so. "Now, then. It's a little after 0730 hours, and since no one has yet come in here to tell me about a psychology crisis, and we do have those, I'm going to work on the assumption that this is a good day and not a bad one until proven otherwise. So... first rule: no touching James at all unless you can't get his attention. And definitely not right here." She showed Pepper on her right forearm. "Cooper did that and the kids got an hour of undivided, dissociated attention and Chinese Checkers."

Pepper winced. "I remember Tony, right after the Battle of New York. He'd startle like nothing else."

Jill nodded. "So you're no stranger to PTSD and Anxiety."

"No."

"Good. Second rule: if he has an episode, and they are hard to miss, you listen and watch, and interact with him if the situation warrants it. If he comes out of it, great, if not... wait. That first nightmare I mentioned? Sam woke him up, he spoke directly to us, and then he dissociated when I asked what the nightmare was. And then he passed right back out into sleep like nothing happened and didn't remember it the next day."

Pepper nodded. "Makes sense, why you wanted something alcoholic."

"I settled for coffee. Third rule: act normal and be aware. He's not a bomb, but he does have triggers. Yesterday, he was fine, and then Steve made pancakes just like his mother used to make, right down to the cinnamon." Jill frowned for a moment. "Which might be why he was able to unravel the trigger by himself. Something that touched on a sense memory that started a cascade. I've started to wonder, over the past several days, what his baseline was before Berlin. A person can't stay hidden that well if they're acting out all the time."

Pepper blinked and turned to look for her bag. Seeing it on top of the boxes, she rushed over and got her StarkPad out of it, and turned it on. "I showed this to Rebecca several days ago and she was so furious she couldn't speak English for a couple minutes. Which file... ah. That one." She handed the pad to Jill, who looked at the picture of her patient in the containment cage with a frown. "Tony said that the restraints for his left arm were electrified."

Jill studied the picture with a deepening frown. "That explains a few things. And now I have to add things to Martin's reading list, again. He's going to be thrilled to read about ECT... and I have something to discuss with Khamisi. No wonder he's been so off the map, considering he could have had seizures from being shocked like that."

"Who is Khamisi?"

"Oh him? Nice Wakandan doctor on the medical team, doesn't mind if I'm his partner in deprogramming." Jill motioned to the boxes. "Now... one more thing, before we get to those. I did not give Steve that report from Oymyakon, because I have to have patient consent to do so. I have to have it, but you do not. If you want to tell him, and someone should, then do so. Just, if you also tell James at the same time, be very careful. We dealt with the mentioned trigger during the first session I was here for, without realizing the significance of it or the memory of a Siberian Husky trying to bite a Russian Colonel."

Pepper smiled. "Really?"

"Really. He remembers it, but then he also keeps calling Lila by his sister's name and forgetting he did that, so... I don't know if he actively does or not."

"Be aware of triggers and be careful?" Pepper asked after a moment of silence.

"Exactly."

"So it would be a bad idea to mention Tony?"

Jill thought about that, then shook her head. "Probably better if you do, since you are going to have to explain who you are. How is he, by the way?"

"In therapy. Making progress."

"Oh? Glad to hear it, especially since he's the reason my patient got re-disabled." Jill frowned when Pepper reached into her bag again, looking for something, and pulled out a flash drive, then handed it to her. "What's this?"

"I walked in on Tony discussing the part of the prosthetic that he's got with a doctor and a mechanic from Oymyakon. He wanted me to give that to His Highness, but since you're on the medical team, I'm giving it to you."

Jill stared at her, then down at the flashdrive in her hand, then at the StarkPad in her other hand. "Oh."

"And," Pepper said as she carried the top box over to the bed and set it down, lifted the lid, and rooted around in it for a minute, then grinned and pulled out a thick binder. "You will want this, too."

Jill set the flashdrive and the StarkPad down on the nightstand on top of her laptop and carefully took the binder from Pepper. "Is this..." She opened it and her eyes widened. Turning pages, her jaw dropped open in shock. "No way. Where-"

"Tony," Pepper told her. "Went back out to Siberia after arriving home a week after the fact, and found their file room. He and Rebecca had an... altercation, and he gave the information to her. Rebecca put it all together in order, and made copies. Tony has one that he has to read through for the sake of perspective, and Legal has another."

Jill shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes, and closed the binder. Hugging it to her chest, she looked up at Pepper. "Thank you. And... do you have video of the interrogation that wasn't? On your StarkPad?"

Pepper nodded. "Via Tony's sunglasses, actually."

"You've made my year."

Pepper smiled, turned back to the box, and found a bag with Jill's name on it. Frowning, she pulled it out and looked at Jill again. "Did you tell Rebecca you were here? Because there's one in here for you, personally."

"Sort of." Not letting go of the binder, she took the bag from her, and opened it to find a card, and... "Oh, they didn't." She pulled out a disk in a jewel case, labeled 'Wild America,' and 'Ronald Reagan Funeral June 2004.' "They did." One by one, she pulled disks out and laughed. "Only Kristy would send me Last of the Dogmen, Leonard Part Six, three Cosby albums, the World War Two Memorial Dedication, Bill Engvall's Here's Your Sign, a Foxworthy album, Christmas music Parodies, and what appears to be a greatest hits selection from the Walmart Bargain bin. And..." She held up another for Pepper to see. "Proof Miriam had no final say in this."

Pepper took the Silly Songs with Larry DVD from her, frowning. "Miriam doesn't like VeggieTales?"

"No, and every time Rebecca finds and wears her Bob and Larry scrub top, Miriam threatens to turn it into potholders." Jill pulled a small black mini-binder out of the paper bag, and zipped it open. "Oh. Olympics to watch. Good call."

Pepper laughed. "Well, they would make very cute potholders. Which Olympics?"

"Some of Atlanta, Nagano, Salt Lake, and Athens. Is everything else in there this silly?"

"Not quite," Pepper said as she lifted the POW care package approximation out and showed it to her. "Along with several photo albums, they figured it was better late than never."

Jill smiled. "I'm in agreement on that. What's in the other two?"

"The second one has some things from Steve's apartment at the Tower, and the bottom one is toys."

"Toys?"

Pepper nodded. "The letter that came with that one, from Hope Van Dyne in San Francisco, said that Rebecca got in touch-" Jill laughed suddenly, and Pepper frowned at her. "What?"

"Subterfuge, and it's the other way around. Steve gave Rebecca's contact information to Scott Lang when Hank Pym came to collect him quietly. I was here for that, and Mr. Pym reminded me of my father when Rob would act out and miss curfew." Jill put all the disks she'd pulled out of the bag, back into it and set the binder on the nightstand along with the bag, next to her laptop. Then she stood up, went over to move the boxes, and opened the bottom one. "Good on Scott and Hope."

"Dada!" a young voice yelled, startling them both as Nathaniel tottered into the room and stood there for a moment staring at Pepper, wearing nothing but a diaper. "Dada?"

Jill laughed and scooped him up into her arms. "Wrong room, kiddo! Dada's not in here, but Pepper is!"

"Bug?" Nathaniel asked her hopefully.

Jill smiled at him. "No, no bugs either."

"Bug!"

Pepper moved closer, and he reached out and grabbed a strand of her long, loose hair. She smiled, and untangled his hand from it. "I've only ever seen pictures that Clint sent to Tony. Hello, Nathaniel!"

"Aba!" he said to her. "Bug?"

Jill frowned. "He keeps asking that."

"Hazel, is Amos being fussy again?"

Jill turned at the familiar voice to find Bucky standing in the doorway, wearing a sweat shirt and green pajama pants with monkeys on them, eyes glazed over with the tell-tale signs of not being present in the moment. Sam was standing behind him in the corridor, and he shrugged at her, mouthed 'bathroom.' She fought to hold down a chuckle. "Sort of. Seems to want a bug."

"Bug!" Nathaniel said again, and tried to squirm out of her arms. "Bug!"

Jill looked down at Nathaniel, then at her patient. "Oh! Come in and sit down, James? He wants you!"

"Is that wise?" Sam asked.

Jill ignored him as Bucky moved to sit in the comfy chair she'd been seated in earlier, then looked at her expectantly. "You want him?"

"Of course I want to hold him, Hazel."

"Bug!" Nathaniel yelled again, and Jill placed him carefully on Bucky's lap. Nathaniel turned to look at him, then reached up and touched his stubbly cheek. "Bug-Bug!"

Pepper frowned at what he was wearing, and leaned closer to Jill as she stood up. "It's not that cold in here. Why...?"

"Cold sensitivity," Jill told her, not taking her attention off of him and Nathaniel. "And Sam? This is probably the wisest thing we could do."

Bucky smiled and caught Nathaniel's hand before he went for his hair. "None of that, Amos. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral..." They watched as he started to sing the seemingly nonsensical song, and Nathaniel tried to follow it.

"Have you seen," Laura asked Sam from the hallway, before she looked in and blinked. "Oh. Never mind."

"We'll give him back, Laura," Jill called over her shoulder. "Where's Steve?"

Laura stepped back and looked down the hallway just in time to see Steve exit the bathroom in a bathrobe, hair wet and messy. "Steve? Come here." He frowned at her, and she motioned with her hand. "You'll love this. Come here."

Steve joined them at the door and looked in, listened. "Ma used to sing that to me when I was sick. What's...?"

"Nathaniel has a new favorite person," Jill told him, still watching Bucky closely. "Thinks he's a Bug."

"Bug!" Nathaniel agreed, and resumed trying to follow the song. "Too?"

"Yes," Bucky told him. "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-rai..."

"What started this?" Steve wondered.

"I have a better question," Sam muttered. "Who is Amos?"

Steve blinked in surprise. "Bucky's oldest nephew. He was three years old when Buck left for England."

Pepper turned and looked at Steve. "So this is a flashback to 1941 or so?"

Steve nodded. "Thereabouts. Want me to try and get him back to now?" Then he noticed the open box on the bed. "Pepper, put that stuff away. He's going to be confused enough as it is."

Pepper nodded and re-packed what she'd taken out of the box back into it, and set the box against the wall next to the other two. Then she stood up. "It's good to see you, Steve. Also..." She bopped him on the arm as he entered the room, and he stared at her in surprise. "Thank you for that letter."

Steve chuckled. "You're welcome. How is he?"

"All things considered? Improving." She turned and studied the man with the one-year-old on his lap, singing in rounds with a smile on his face. "And this isn't what I thought I'd find. Jill told me about some of it, but this..."

"Jill?" Steve prompted.

"We wait," Jill said clearly. Soon enough, it was Bucky who fell asleep and Nathaniel who was left playing with his hair. "Well, kiddo? Want to go have breakfast with Momma?"

"Bug," Nathaniel said again. "My Bug!"

"Your Bug is tired, sweetie," Laura told him gently as she moved to their side and held out her hands. "Come on. Let's go eat, hmmm?"

Nathaniel looked at her, then at Bucky. "Bug!" Then he launched himself into Laura's waiting arms. "Mama!" Laura caught him, nodded to Jill, and left the room.

Jill finally allowed herself to break her own concentration, sat down on the bed, and pulled her laptop off the nightstand. "Were you really headed for the bathroom, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "He was." Then he frowned at Pepper. "How are you this morning?"

Pepper smiled at him. "Not nearly as tired as I was yesterday."

"One would hope not," Jill said with a chuckle as she opened the laptop computer back up, opened the correct case file, and started typing. "I think Nathaniel got Bug from you, Steve."

"From me?"

"Sounds like Buck, yes?"

Now Steve laughed. "Yes it does!"

"Too loud," Bucky mumbled. Then he opened his eyes, stared at all of them, blinked, and looked directly at Jill. "I-"

"Flashback," Jill told him without looking up. "And Nathaniel loved your hair."

"Oh. I got to hold Nathaniel?"

"You did. And he thinks your name is Bug. So if you hear him shout Bug! at the top of his lungs, he's talking to you." She sighed at her laptop. "What do you remember last?"

Bucky frowned at her. "Before now?"

"Yes. Before now."

"Getting out of bed, to go to the bathroom."

"And then...?" She glanced at him, noted his blank stare. "James?"

Bucky blinked several times, shook his head, and opened his mouth, then paused. "I... I... I... can't. I..."

Jill glanced at Steve, then looked at Bucky again. "Can't? As in can't because he's in here, or actually can't say?"

Bucky winced, shook his head again. "Can't! Can't!"

Quickly, she set the laptop back on the nightstand, got down in front of him, and took hold of his hand. "Look at me. Focus on me."

"Can't!" Bucky said, but looked right at her. "I..."

"Take a deep breath, James. Okay? In and out." She took a deep breath herself, and let it out in demonstration, and he joined her, pain clearly in his eyes. "Steve? Over here, please. Pepper, join us. Now. In and out, James. That's it."

"What was that?" Pepper asked, sitting down on the bed close to them, and Steve knelt on their other side.

"Focus on my hand, James. My hand on yours. Better?" At his nod, she turned her gaze to Pepper. "That is one reason that Steve's an idiot. He actually can't say he remembers Amos right now."

"Can," Bucky muttered, and winced again.

"Sam, go get some O.D. 2mg Klonopin from Khamisi," Jill instructed. "Tell him that we hit a conditioned response. He'll know what that means."

"How about I bring him in here? With a vitals kit?" Sam asked.

"Or you could do that." She watched him leave, then looked at Steve, who was looking at her funny. "We'll discuss it later."

"Yeah. Buck?"

"Ow," Bucky moaned. "Don't want the meds."

Jill sighed. "And I'd rather you didn't have a seizure. The day has been too good for that, and we've got photo albums for you." Now she winced at how tightly he squeezed her hand. "James?"

"Emma," he said with a gasp. "Liked cameras."

Steve nodded. "She did."

"Want this to stop," Bucky muttered. "I..."

Jill squeezed his hand back. "What's better here? Not being able to remember because there's a mental block, or breaking the block? Because I'm all for breaking the block so it can't be used against you again."

"Breaking it," he admitted.

"Hmmm... Pepper? Drawer of the nightstand." She watched as Pepper opened the drawer and pulled the envelope stashed there out in confusion. "We are going to discuss that right now, and rejoice in protective Siberian Huskies and acts of protesting Soviet oppression."

Bucky raised his head to stare at her. "Huh?"

Jill smiled. "Seems you took a very long, summer time walk to Oymyakon in June of 1984. Only thing you remember about it is the dog who tried to bite your superior, one Colonel Karpov."

"Oh."

"He's dead," Pepper told him gently. "According to Tony, he died in May, in Cleveland, Ohio. Found near him were HYDRA files."

Bucky winced, and frowned at her. "Who are you?"

Steve grinned. "Buck, this is Pepper. She's... what is it right now, Pepper? Girlfriend? Fiance?" Jill reached over with her free hand and bopped him on the arm. "Jill!"

"You're worried about their couple status at a time like this?"

Pepper snorted in laughter. "He was so worried, he wrote me a letter. And it's a work in progress, Steve. Not unlike Tony himself." At Bucky's pained and confused expression, she shook her head. "I'll explain later. Right now... how's your head?"

Bucky winced again. "Still hurts. Still unclear..." He gasped and focused again on Jill's hand in his. "What. Is. This?"

"According to Mykola, you were fighting with yourself not to remember anything at various points during the five hours you were in his care... which must have been why you ended up being comforted by Bliss," Jill explained. "That was the dog's name, by the way."

"Doesn't explain," Bucky started to say, and winced again.

"Yes it does." Jill gestured for the envelope with her free hand and Pepper gave it to her, and she handed it to Steve. "And just this once, I'm including you in a deprogramming session, which this is, now, officially. Read. Where is Khamisi?" Then Bucky squeezed her hand again with a gasp, and her attention was taken again. "Focus, James. Our Hands. Breathe."

"Don't wanna do this," he whined as Steve read the report in silence. "Want to. Be. Frozen."

"And I'd still like a pizza from Brewer," Jill told him. His gaze flashed up to her face, and she frowned at him. "There is no magic bullet to undo what was done, James. A piece at a time, one thing at a time... sometimes with a side of Doctor In Siberia Doesn't Want to Go Quietly Into That Good Night Like He Was Ordered To."

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," Pepper articulated kindly, and Bucky glanced at her again in pained confusion. "It's a poem. Dylan Thomas."

"You're talking about the conditioning," Steve said suddenly. "And so was this doctor, whomever he is."

Jill turned and looked at him funny. "What part of everything went over your head? The part where you had to break his conditioning and he broke your face, or the part where Rebecca called me in long distance for a consult because this is that complicated and she knew it?" She winced at the increased pressure on her hand. "Going to want to use my hand later, James."

"I... I..."

"Breathe. Focus." He did, and his grip lessened. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, just in time to see Khamisi skid into the room, vitals kit under one arm, and a box in the other, and Sam behind him. "What took you so long?"

"Had to find orally disintegrating Klonopin," Khamisi told her. "How are you, Sergeant, on a scale of one to ten?" Bucky raised his head to glare at him, and Khamisi chuckled. "Right. Can I take your vitals?"

"Pain. Bad."

"Move, Captain," Khamisi requested, and Steve moved to sit on the bed next to Pepper, while he set the vitals kit on the floor and took a good look at Bucky. Then he pulled the ear thermometer out and started taking vitals. "Slightly elevated at ninety-nine... Jill, stretch out his arm and rotate slightly? Thank you." Then he strapped the blood pressure cuff on after rolling the loose sleeve up to his bicep... "160 over 100, where your normal is 110 over 60."

"And his eyes have been dilated like that since this started," Jill told him. "And all I did was ask what he remembered before the flashback. Did Sam tell you about that?"

"Mentioned it, yes. And good for Nathaniel."

"Want to remember," Bucky muttered, staring at his hand grasping onto Jill's, and then groaned.

Khamisi stared at him for a moment longer, then reached down and picked a small box out of the case he'd brought and showed it to her. "This might be better than the Klonopin."

"Don't want it," Bucky told him vehemently.

Jill frowned at the box. "Actually, you're right. And now I want a hair drug test, but one thing at a time. James? This is Ativan. It was one of the things in the vault that Steve and Rebecca found, so I know it works on you."

"Don't. I... I..."

She focused onto him again, and her eyes softened. "It'll make you feel better, calm you down so we can talk and not risk an active seizure. That'd be bad, all right? Please?" He stared at her for a minute before nodding his assent and wincing again. "Can Khamisi put it on your tongue?"

"Jill, this is an injectable," Khamisi told her. "And you know better than that."

She blinked, glanced at him. "Injectable... actually, that's better. James, I know you're not going to like it, but the mechanism of action is faster, and the method is safer. Can he?"

"Just. Get. It. Over. With," Bucky ground out slowly, his breath coming in gasps. A pull on his skin on his lower arm after the blood pressure cuff was inflated quickly again, and he opened his eyes to find Khamisi injecting the vein in his elbow. "Why doesn't that hurt?"

Khamisi deflated the cuff again, finished the injection, pulled the needle out and handed it to Jill, and secured a cotton ball to the injection site with a piece of paper tape. "Pressure points, Sergeant. And give it a minute or two. IV is faster than IM."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jill said as she handed the hypodermic needle and syringe to him. Then she noticed Bucky's eyes following the syringe. "James?"

"Insulin," he muttered, and Steve blinked, startled. "Looks different."

Khamisi frowned at the hypodermic syringe in his hand. "Insulin?"

"Ma was diabetic," Steve explained, emotion in his voice, and Pepper put her arm around his shoulders. "And he's right. Syringes used to look different. I'm all right, Pepper, I..."

"No, you're not," Pepper told him. "If I'm not fine, then neither are you. And this is hard. It's okay to not be okay right now."

Jill watched as Bucky's breathing normalized and the lines around his eyes became less severe, then glanced back at Steve. "That was part of his flashbacks yesterday morning, wasn't it? Your mother, the hospital room, and the fire escape with you."

Steve nodded. "And Rumlow."

"I'm right here," Bucky complained. "Don't talk about me as if I'm not!"

Jill squeezed his hand to get his attention. "We're not, James. I'm trying to figure out where the block is. You can't say something, and you want to say it, and you were, are getting a migraine just trying to say it. Clear?"

"Yes," he said after a moment. Then he frowned. "Rumlow? What about him?"

Jill sighed. "Okay... do you remember yesterday morning? Steve made pancakes." Bucky winced, nodded. "Do you remember snoozing on the couch yesterday, or dinner?"

"I... yes."

"What was dinner?"

Bucky frowned at her for a minute, then looked at Steve. "Was dinner meatloaf? Ma made meatloaf... a lot."

Steve nodded. "Yes, dinner was meatloaf."

Jill paused, then chuckled. "I should have just asked you! Meatloaf! That explains why Rebecca would suggest it to me for a patient with a bland diet, if she knew whose labs she was looking at. It was after Andi gave her the telegram!" They stared at her. "What? That's been bugging me for two weeks."

"My sister suggested meatloaf and jello?" Bucky wondered.

"She did. Over email, through her niece because she was laughing so much she couldn't type at my antics with Andi and your grandnephew, her grandson, James. Know what email is?"

Bucky shook his head. "Only ever used a cell phone to text, haven't seen once since DC." His gaze fell to their hands. "Jill?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're touching me. You've... not, before."

She nodded. "Because you are still a trauma victim, we're of the opposite sex, and until now... there wasn't a need. Right now there's a need. Would you like me to let go?"

"No."

She smiled when he raised his head to look at her. "Then I'm not going to. And... wait. They had you using a cell phone? How so and for what?"

Bucky took a deep breath, glanced at Steve, winced, and focused on their hands again. "Director told me to stop them, at any cost. I... I..." He shook his head, took another deep breath, and let it out. "Quinjet engine."

"What about a Quinjet engine?" At his silence, she glanced back at Steve. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Deck crew, pilots at the Triskellion," Steve answered. "Maria Hill pieced it together later, that Sam and I had backup, but said backup got ambushed."

"Oh." Jill refocused on Bucky, at how he was staring at their hands. "Look at me, please."

"No."

"Look. At. Me. That isn't a request, James." Slowly, he raised his head and glared at her. "Are you just remembering the pilots and the deck crew now, or did you before?"

"Now."

"Right. I'm going to tell you what they would, if they were here: none of it is your fault. You had no choice and no say in the matter. Do you understand that?"

"I still did it."

She nodded. "You're right. It still happened. The past is the past. You either learn from it, or you run from it. And... really, how many clichés do you want me to pile on? It comes down to the same thing: there were no choices, save for the ones that Secretary Pierce made. Those deaths? They are on him, and no one else."

"But-"

"Right, Steve? Pepper? Khamisi? Sam?"

Bucky looked up to find nothing but compassionate acceptance in every face. "Stark blamed me."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Tony is a different matter, and he's got his own issues. Also... that video was bad. Very bad." At his frown, she nodded to Steve with her head. "Steve wrote me a letter, and I watched the Iron Man suit's A/V log from Siberia. I almost brought Tony up on charges in front of a judge for it, too."

"What? Why?" Bucky winced at her mild glare. "It's not like he wasn't right. I-"

"James?" Pepper interrupted. "Do you remember anything about that 1991 mission? Other than Howard and Maria, I mean."

"Huh? What else is there?"

Pepper smiled. "You don't? All right. Allow me to fix that, hmm?" She released Steve from her hold and moved to go open one of the boxes, rooted around until she came out with a back, looked through that for a moment until she found a yellow envelope, and then sat next to Steve again on the bed. "I'm going to open this one for you, because... well... let's just say that Tony and I suspect something and it relates to that night." She opened the envelope and pulled the card out of it, to show him the card with a tabby cat laying on it's back.

Bucky stared at the card. "Feline Fine? I don't understand. What's-"

"You see... Tony had a cat. His name was Alecto, and he looked a bit like this, only not nearly as fluffy." Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her StarkPad's screen was on, showing a picture of herself with Alecto, and smiled as she handed the card to Steve as she picked up the tablet to show to him. "And Friday wants to help. Thank you, Friday. Different picture, though, please. A close up, and younger?" Another one took the place of that one, and Bucky stared at the picture of Maria Stark holding a kitten. "You see, the story of this cat was that Tony found it in a pet carrier next to his bed, the morning after the accident."

"Tony doesn't have a cat," Steve started to say, and Pepper shook her head.

"Not now, no. He died in '06." She watched as Bucky stared hard at the screen, tears in his eyes, and then he began to rock back and forth, mumbling in Romanian. "Oh. That's not good."

"No, it is," Jill said. "Hug him, Khamisi."

"What?"

"Hug. Him." Khamisi did as he was told, and Jill winced as Bucky again gripped her hand tightly. "Steve? What's he saying?"

"Something about not being dormant. He's saying it really fast."

Bucky still rocking back and forth, caused them all to startle when he started mumbling in a completely different, harsher sounding language... "Subjath 'e' ylmev! Tlhab ’oS ’Iw; HoHwI’ So’ batlh. BIQ'a'Daq 'oHtaH 'etlh'e.' cha'maH cha' joQDu', may' bom pIm bom, naH jajmey, 'IwwIj jeD law' 'IwlIj jeD puS!"

They stared at him while he repeated the same words several times over five minutes, and then he stopped rocking back and forth and fell still. He stared at their hands for another moment. "I... couldn't keep it. Didn't even know why I wanted to keep it, just that I suddenly knew what kind of kitten it was, but not how I knew. No witnesses."

Jill glanced at Pepper, then refocused on him again. "What language was that?"

Bucky blinked. "Huh?"

"You switched from Romanian to something else that wasn't Russian. Do you know what it was?"

The StarkPad in Pepper's hand pinged to get her attention, and Pepper looked down at it to find a translation from Friday. She stared at it for a moment, eyes wide. "Jill, you might want to save that question for a later time."

"Why?" Jill looked at her, and Pepper turned the screen so she could read it, and her eyes widened. "Oh. You're right. Not right now. So many questions, though."

Steve took the tablet out of Pepper's hands and read it, then looked at Sam. "What's Klingon?"

Sam stared at him. "Steve, how do you not know what a Klingon is? Barnes, I understand, but you? You've been out of the ice since 2012!"

"I'm hungry," Bucky said suddenly, distracting them. "And... Sam, did I get distracted on my way to the bathroom?"

Sam nodded, still staring at Steve. "You did." Then he frowned at Bucky, who was looking back at him over Jill's shoulder. "Want to go now?"

"Yes."

Jill let go of his hand and stood up, wincing as she did so and shaking out her hand. "Okay. You'll feel a bit off until the Ativan fully metabolizes, so go to the bathroom, and then join us in the kitchen for breakfast." She stepped aside while Khamisi unstrapped the blood pressure cuff, watched Bucky get out of the chair and leave the room with Sam following after him. Then she looked at Steve. "And you. How did you manage not to watch any Star Trek?"

"There's a difference between that and Star Wars?"

Khamisi chuckled while Pepper turned to stare at him, and Jill put her hands on her hips incredulously. "Oh, Captain. So, so much to learn. And be careful who you say that to, even here in Wakanda." He plucked the report off the bed from beside Steve and read it for a minute or so, then nodded and handed it to Jill. "We'll be having a long talk later."

"Yes," Jill said as she continued to stare at Steve. "We will. And also maybe have a chuckle or three that some HYDRA operative was a Trekkie and bored enough to teach Klingon to James. Can you imagine when that skill would come in useful? At all?"

Pepper nodded. "Comic Cons." She paused. "Which is a terrifying thought, come to think of it. Hilarious, but terrifying. And really, Steve. Star Wars but not Star Trek?"

"I was going to get around to it. Eventually."

Jill smirked at him. "Eventually is today, and we get the BBC here, because his highness loves it, so... TNG for you."

"Huh? TNG?" Then he remembered the cat card that was still in his hand, and opened it to look inside: Barnes, you've got some explaining to do, even if I think it's crazy. Wake up! -Stark Steve frowned at that.

Khamisi chuckled again. "So, so much to learn, Captain. So, so much."

"And Tony, apparently, thinks the cat story is crazy. Even if it actually isn't."

Pepper took it from him and looked. "Oh. I told him to sign it, but didn't he didn't show it to me afterward."

"That reminds me... exactly how many letters did you write, Steve?" Jill asked, arms folded across her chest. "Natasha told me about one of them, and then there's this one that you wrote to Miss Potts. Was there another?"

"Becca." Steve looked at her, to find Jill glaring at him. "What? I couldn't not tell her anything!"

"You're an even bigger idiot. Also banned from writing any more letters to anyone, you grand imbécile! Vous ne déclenchez pas une vieille personne qui était déjà fou comme l'enfer!"

Steve winced at her slip into French. "She needed to know, one way or the other."

"You're still banned."

"For telling her the truth?"

Jill sighed. "No, for setting off a 92-year-old so badly that she had an altercation with the man she doesn't like! Or did I hear you wrong, Miss Potts?"

"No, you heard correctly. She also ended up, somehow, at the Compound." Pepper stood up, grabbed the tablet from Steve, and searched for a minute... "There. Brace yourself, Steve. She startled the heck out of him."

Steve stood there in mute shock as he listened to Rebecca tear into Tony, to the conversation that ensued, and at the end of it had forgotten he was standing up. He shook his head, blinked down at his feet, and left the room in a daze.

Jill stared after him, then looked at the tablet. "Funny how Martin's question about Mr. Stark's BARF system turned into a weapon. That reminds me of another thing... don't let him use that thing again."

"Huh?"

"Let's just say that I know exactly how and why he snapped in Siberia, beyond Steve not telling him anything and that video being really upsetting, and the person to blame here is the one who gave himself an electromagnetic headache."

Pepper frowned at her. "That's what Dr. Knutz said when we talked it over while I prepared him to meet Tony, too. Something about an overactive Hippocampus?"

Jill smiled. "Exactly that. You wouldn't happen to have his email address, would you?"

"Of course I do. You want Elley's Skype number, too?"

"Who is Elley?" Pepper gestured to the report in Jill's hand, and pointed to the paragraph about the teens at the end. "Really?"

"Really."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The call came in on the StarkPad from a number he didn't recognize, and Elley frowned as he picked up the tablet and answered it. Then he smiled. "Hello, Miss Pepper!"

"Hello, Elley," Pepper said with an answering smile. "I've got a two doctors here who wants to say hello. Jill? Khamisi?" She held the pad so he could see two other people, a light-skinned brunette woman, and a dark-skinned man with kind eyes. "Meet Elley, Mykola's nephew and now the doctor at the clinic in Oymyakon."

The woman waved. "Hello, Dr. Elley. On behalf the Barnes family, I thank you, your Uncle, and your friend for caring for James the way you did."

"You a family member?"

She smiled. "I'm his grand niece-in-law, and currently also one of the doctors treating him. And he's on his way to healing. When we get a minute and I've prepared him, I'll see if I can get him on the line with you. Needs to be introduced to Skype, anyway. If that's all right?"

Elley nodded. "That be fine. Just remember time difference. Stark never does."

Pepper laughed. "We will, Elley! Have a good day, sir."

The call ended and Elley was left with a smile on his worn features.

Chapter Text

When Pepper entered the kitchen with the box in her hands, she found an odd mix of things going on. Steve, still in the dark blue bathrobe, was seated at the kitchen table focusing on a sketchbook, while Sam was sitting at the kitchen island, and Bucky was perched on a stool by the stove watching Clint cook and asking questions while occasionally yawning. She noticed the table was mostly set with silverware and napkins... "Where are Laura, Wanda, and the kids?"

"Common room," Sam told her while throwing a concerned glance at Steve. "They ate while we were dealing with Barnes."

Pepper followed his gaze back to Steve, nodded. Something wasn't right about that, and she agreed. "Right. Where do I put this?"

Sam patted the kitchen island. "Right here. And really, Barnes. Don't you remember how to cook eggs?"

"Nous avons utilisé pour bouillir tout, Sam," Steve mumbled distractedly.

Sam frowned at him, then looked at Bucky, who was looking back at him in concern, while Pepper gratefully set the box on the kitchen island and began pulling items out of it. "He's said that before. Is it true?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "Some. I keep remembering Ma cooking soup for some reason, but can't place why. Sarah, too." He noticed Pepper looking at him funny. "What?"

"Are you really that cold?"

Bucky glanced down at his sweatshirt and pajama pants, then back at her, and shrugged. "Depends on the day." Then he had to catch himself on the counter, and Clint put a hand out to steady him on his left shoulder. "Woah."

"Careful, Barnes. You're medically stoned," Sam teased him kindly with a chuckle.

"Oh, he'll be stoned for a while," Jill said as she entered the kitchen, then paused and looked around, her gaze settling on Steve. "Steve?" He ignored her, and she frowned at him.

"He's been like that since he came in here," Clint told her with a glance over his shoulder.

"Didn't change out of the bathrobe, either," Pepper observed.

Bucky spun carefully on the stool and peered at him, then frowned. "What's he drawing?"

Jill got close enough to look over Steve's shoulder, then stared down at it. Slowly, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."

"Tú a choinneáil ar mian leo dom a tharraingt," Steve told her without looking up. "Tá mé ag déanamh an méid a dúirt tú dom a dhéanamh."

She frowned at him, looked at Bucky, then down at the drawing again. "You're worrying someone... and is that a graveyard?"

"Ceadaigh dom a chríochnú an." And then he shrugged her hand away.

Jill frowned again, then looked at Bucky to find him sharing her concerned frown. "I think this is a you moment, James."

Bucky nodded and carefully stood up from the stool, then moved to sit next to Steve at the table. He looked at the drawing to find a detailed depiction of a familiar casket in the foreground evolving... "Oh. Steve?"

"She's next to Dad," he said softly.

"And?" For some reason, those words gave him an echo of a memory that he could kind of reach for, that felt really important. Then he blinked, startled at the clarity of following behind, trying to comfort in the only way he knew how... by being there.

"And Becca's not here."

Bucky blinked again, startled out of the memory. "Steve?"

"And Hazel and Emma passed while we where both in ice or being used by the enemy. And William, and George, and Winifred. And... and... and... you died."

Bucky stared at him for a moment, wondering why no one had told him about Emma or Hazel before... "I'm right here."

"But you weren't." Steve finally put the pencil down and simply stared at the sketch for a long, long minute. "Everything was different. Changed in one way or another. And I didn't even know Becca was alive because no one thought to tell me!"

Pepper winced at that. "Steve, she's fine."

"She's not here!"

"No, but she wishes she was." Reaching into the box, Pepper's hand landed on a wrapped bundle and she blinked. "Oh. And in a way, she is." Picking up the bundle, she turned and moved to set it in front of Bucky, then backed away again. "Open it."

Bucky frowned at her, did his best to open the tissue-paper wrapped thing with one hand. Then he stared at the OD green shawl with pink and lighter green tassels, and he grinned. "Something warm!"

Steve picked it up with a frown, then looked at Pepper. "Army green?"

Pepper shrugged. "Mason talked her out of pink. And she was furiously upset while camped out in Rhodey's hospital room at Columbia. Called him an idiot at least once in Romanian, kept having to find the English in her head."

"Oh, she didn't," Steve breathed, stunned.

"Imagine it: the Elvis scrubs, hair down, and knitting."

"Who or what is Elvis?" Bucky wondered, and blinked when they all stared at him. "What?"

Pepper smiled. "Well now, if we're introducing you both to Star Trek today, why not Elvis for you? Elvis was a musician that put out a lot of good music, James."

Bucky nodded and turned his attention back to Steve. "And what happened to Emma and Hazel?"

Steve shook his head and looked away, only to find Jill glaring at him. "Not now, Buck, okay?" Her glare intensified. "What? You said it was bad, before!"

"Now is a perfect time," Jill told him, hands on her hips. "He's on Ativan. No, offense, James."

Bucky looked at her funny. "None taken. And really, what happened?"

Steve sighed. "Emma died in '54, and Hazel had Leukemia." He winced when Jill glared at him again. "Jill, Becca could barely tell me, how am I supposed to tell him that?" She folded her arms across her chest and continued to glare at him, and he shifted his gaze back to Bucky. "Emma's youngest survived. His name is David."

Bucky frowned at him, then at Jill, then back at Steve again, unsure of how to react, before nodding. "David, huh? Can't wait to meet him." His gaze shifted to Pepper and he looked at her curiously as she reached into the box again. "What else is in there?"

"For you? This," Pepper said as she held up a paper sack with his name on it, while Jill ducked out into the hall. "Also three photo albums and a late care package."

Steve frowned. "Care package?"

Pepper smiled. "Miriam has been finding creative ways to deal with Rebecca to keep her occupied, though I think the cards and whatnot were Rebecca's idea. Also? You might have to explain certain things to Tony when we finally allow you two in the same room together again."

"I will?"

"Yes, you will. Namely why there's a note on the Aspirin, telling you not to take any." At his perplexed frown, she shrugged again. "Perspective is important?"

"Oh."

"But before any of that," Clint interrupted as he plated scrambled eyes and Sam joined him in buttering toast. "Breakfast. Pepper, can you put the fruit bowls on the table?"

"Sure," Pepper said with a smile as she took the tray from the counter, and turned just in time to see Jill return with her laptop. She watched her walk to the kitchen island and set it down next to the box, and then Pepper began to set out the bowls of fruit on the table while Steve draped the shawl around Bucky's shoulders. She stared at him as she set the last fruit bowl in front of him. "Oh. Good color choice."

"Warm too," Bucky told her with a smile. Then he yawned.

Standing by the toaster next to the stove, Sam blinked in surprise. "He's smiling. Jill, we should have tried Ativan sooner."

"No, we shouldn't have," Jill said, annoyance in her tone. "And that, there, is the result of a trigger unravel, not the Ativan, which is a tool in the psychological arsenal that one should only use sparingly. Use it wrong, and you end up with bad things ."

"It was a trigger unravel?"

"No idea which one, and no desire, right now, to start saying words in Russian to prove it."

"I'm against that, too," Bucky told both of them with a glare, then looked down at his bowl of fruit.

"Oh," Sam said as he set the toast down on the table while also helping Clint bring the plates over with scrambled eggs and bacon.

"I wonder how Doctor Mackenzie and Sally are."

Jill froze for a moment, then turned to find Bucky staring at his fruit bowl, and frowned. "Doctor Mackenzie?"

"Yeah. I didn't call him like he wanted me to."

Steve looked from Bucky to Jill, who was staring at Bucky with her arms folded across her chest. "Am I missing something?"

"When was this encounter with Doctor Mackenzie, James? And where?"

Bucky pushed the bowl away, toward Steve. "Maybe a month after DC when I was finally able to get out? I'd run out of meal supplements I'd been able to find at a safe house. And... some diner outside of Baltimore. I forget the name of the town. Cat something."

"Catonsville?" Jill suggested, her tone neutral.

"Maybe. Why?"

"Because a month or so after DC lines up with the Endocrinology conference in Austin, Rob doesn't like planes much, and always visits a diner in Catonsville on his way home," she explained.

Bucky looked up from the bowl of fruit and frowned at her. "Huh?"

"My maiden name is Mackenzie, James. You met my brother."

Steve blinked in surprise. "Kristy's husband? That Rob?"

"Yes, Steve. That Rob."

"He gave me his business card," Bucky offered with a yawn. "And Sally gave me a nutrition book. And something about a Whipple, whatever that is."

Jill eyed his frame. "That explains some things about how you don't look like a concentration camp survivor when you didn't know how to eat properly for your metabolism. And... oh. Were you thin? Really, really thin?"

He nodded. "I think so? That time is kind of foggy." Bucky glanced at the bowl of fruit he'd pushed away. "And can I have something else? Bananas don't taste right. Didn't then, either."

Steve looked down at the fruit and studied it, then chuckled. "Oh. No, Buck. They wouldn't. They don't. There was a crop changeover in the '50s."

Jill smiled, finally. "Yes, and you tend to swear in Gaelic every time you forget about it yourself. Let's avoid that, because there are actually kids present. And... Pepper? Is there a way to be able to use the email system, without having to use 5-cipher, to yell at Rob like he deserves?"

Pepper shared her smile. "I'll ask Tony about it when I get home. Probably."

Clint took the bowls of fruit away from Steve, very quickly picked all the banana pieces out, and cut up another apple. Then be brought the two bowls back to the table and set them down again. At Steve's questioning expression, he shrugged. "I have children."

Steve nodded, then frowned at Bucky. "What's a Whipple?"

Jill rolled her eyes and sat down at the table. "It's a surgical procedure. And I'm not going to explain it, because I'd rather eat."

"And how could Rob miss..." Steve motioned to Bucky.

"Same way that someone could miss you completely, if you lost a hundred pounds, your hair was long, and didn't look like yourself. Remind me later, and I'll show you the Discovery Health special on Lori Hoogewind."

"Who?"

Jill smiled. "Giant tumor survivor." He frowned at her again. "You asked how Rob could have missed the obvious, Steve. That, and failure of imagination. Let's eat." She looked at Bucky, who was looking between her and Steve. "Don't mind us, James. Rebecca introduced us at JFK International without telling him that I was flying in for a consult on you and a therapy session for him. I was witness to him swearing in Gaelic and throwing a banana at Miriam."

Bucky chuckled. "At least you didn't meet him because he couldn't stay out of a fight... Steve? Could you ever stay out of a fight? And was I saving you right before I shipped out?" He blinked, shook his head, and blinked again. "Paramus? What does Paramus have to do with it?"

"And we're still happy you saved his butt," Pepper chimed in with a smile, while Steve buried his face in his hands.

"Pepper!"

"What?" She asked innocently. "You're the one who told us he saved your butt. We can't thank him properly? And, really, Steve... New Jersey?" He didn't even justify that with a reply.

"I don't understand. When...?" Bucky started to say, and Clint chuckled. "What?"

Clint smiled. "We had Steve show us Brooklyn, not long after the Battle of New York. Which was how we stumbled across Rebecca in the first place, taking out the trash in one of the more... odd scrub tops I'd ever seen. Black with red and green apples."

Sam raised his hand. "Pink and green monkeys. And she had a grandson in tow who had to be back in Stony Brook the next day, named after you. Took Steve's vitals manually, then interrogated me. And..." he paused. "Wait a minute. 'Save the world, undo the brainwashing.' Steve, stop hiding in your hands."

"No, and you're not going to get me to watch Heroes ever again. No one is. Once was enough! And the thing about Paramus, Buck, was that I tried enlisting five different times in five different cities!"

Jill frowned and looked at Pepper, who was also frowning. "Heroes?"

"Tony convinced me to watch a TV show with him, said it was good, and... no. It wasn't."

"Oh," Pepper said slowly. "I remember that. He was confused, because he thought you would like it, due to Project Rebirth." Steve lifted his head and glared at her. "And that was the wrong assumption to make."

Jill looked between them and shook her head. "That explains how you missed Star Trek if he didn't start with the basics and work his way up from there."

"Still don't see what the big deal is, and why it matters."

"Because," Sam said slowly. "You missed a whole cultural movement. Something that started out as a TV show, became something that everyone could understand and connect with, no matter the country that they're from. If they're Trekkies, anyway."

"Heroes?" Bucky wondered through a yawn. "Save the world, undo the brainwashing?"

"Actually, it was 'save the cheerleader, save the world,'" Jill told him, then frowned at Steve. "And what made you say that?"

"You try explaining Bucky to Becca and see what kind of analogy comes to mind when you're laying in a hospital bed," Steve muttered. "And woke up two minutes ago."

"Ah."

"And-"

"Steve?" Clint prompted with a motion of his fork. "Eat. Complain later."

"And Jill keeps calling me an idiot, expecting me to know things!"

Jill sighed and reached over, pointed at his sketchpad. "Fine. You want to do this now, we'll do this now. When you look at this, do you see a drawing, or are you there, in front of it, in the moment?"

He blinked at her, then looked down at his sketch. "Both?"

"Uh-huh... so was Stark." At Steve's questioning expression, she shook her head. "Pepper? Sam? Tell him about it. I can't. I'm upholding HIPAA on Mr. Stark's behalf, and I've already broken it once today."

Steve turned to look at Pepper while Bucky began eating his scrambled eggs. "All right. What's HIPAA and what did Tony do, and what is going on?"

"Electromagnetic headaches," Sam suddenly said with a roll of his eyes. "Jill said it was a smoking gun, back in May when she realized what had happened. Martin asked her a question, related to a presentation he saw Stark give at M.I.T. We'll show you that after breakfast, and then you'll understand. Don't look at me like that, Jill. He asked and this has gone on long enough. And HIPAA relates to medical professionals and healthcare information, Steve."

"Oh, I'm fine with it being out on the table. I just wasn't allowed to say anything. I needed consent for that. I didn't have it from Mr. Stark, even if he did put his problems on stage for all the kids to see." She frowned. "And... Pepper, do you think you could ask Elley for a favor?"

"Probably."

"Who is Elley?" Steve asked.

Pepper smiled. "Eat. And then Jill has to prepare James for a Skype call. You'll love it."

~*~*~*~*~*~

He'd just finished charting after seeing a patient when the StarkPad rang again, again with that same number, and he answered it to find Pepper looking back at him. "Hi!"

"Sorry to bother you again so soon, Elley," Pepper told him, then angled her own tablet so he could see other people, including one distantly familiar one wearing a sweatshirt, a dark green shawl, and odd pajama pants, watching in confusion with the brown-haired woman sitting on one side, and a blonde man in a blue bathrobe on the other. "But we had a question and Jill figured it was better to introduce James to Skype now, rather than later."

"That all right. And hello, James!" He waved back in confused acknowledgement. "Question?"

"Yes. Do Siberian Huskies make good service dogs?"

Elley laughed. "They do. Have litter of 12 week old puppies, too. Getting good at following basic commands."

"Can we have two of them?"

"I don't need a dog," James said through a yawn, and the brown-haired woman turned and glared at him. "We have a cat here. What?"

"Blackie keeps hiding from Nathaniel," she pointed out. "And she's the king's cat. And you need more than a frightened European Shorthair that hides behind couches."

James yawned again, and Elley frowned, looked at the clock in the corner of the tablet's screen. That was twice in less than five minutes. "All right, fine..."

"Besides, the dog we'll get is probably a relative of the one who tried to bite your Colonel in '84."

Elley chuckled at his sudden, if tired, grin. "Think we could work thing out. Send someone?"

Pepper turned the tablet back around and smiled at him. "I'll arrange that. Will she need a parka?"

"It summer. But yes. And Pepper?"

"Hmm?"

"What time where you are?"

Pepper frowned at him. "Just after 8:45AM. Why?"

"Him yawning a lot for that hour. Be watchful."

Pepper glanced away, nodded. "We will."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Exiting the Bundestag as covertly as possible with the requested backpack and Steve's found leather jacket from the bottom of the elevator shaft, Natasha's burner phone buzzes with a text message and she has to stop and look at it.

Nat? Stop in Oymyakon on your way back and visit the medical clinic, please? Elley agreed on something and we need you to pick them up. Buy some dog treats and wear a parka. -Pepper

She stares at the message for a minute, then smiles. "Interesting."

Chapter Text

Pepper watched as Steve got up off the couch after looking down at his bathrobe for a long moment. "Going to change?"

"That's what I was on my way to do, before," Steve said with a smile that wasn't reaching his eyes. "Buck?"

"Go change, Steve," Bucky said through another yawn, and now Jill was frowning at him. Steve nodded and left the common room. "I shouldn't be this tired."

Jill glanced at Pepper, then looked at Sam. "Watch him for me? There's something I need to do. And James?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd be more surprised if you weren't tired. What happened this morning wasn't an easy thing." At his tired nod, she stood up and left the room.

The tablet still in her hand made a 'you've got mail' beep, and Pepper looked down to find a text from Natasha: Dog treats and a parka? Will do, even if I want an explanation later. Tell Steve I also found his jacket and want to know what he was doing at the bottom of an elevator shaft when Barnes got triggered.

Pepper frowned at that and looked at Sam. "You wouldn't know why Steve ended up at the bottom of an elevator shaft, would you?"

Sam nodded to Bucky, then got up and went to sit next to him. "Sort of. I got thrown across the room, and... Barnes?"

"No control," Bucky mumbled as he leaned hard into the cushions. And then he was snoring almost inaudibly.

Sam frowned and tried jiggling his knee. When he didn't even flinch from that, Sam shook his head. "Well, that can't be good..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve had just finished changing into jeans and a t-shirt when a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, he went to answer it, wondering all the while why that person hadn't just poked their head in... and found Jill standing there, an uncertain expression on her face and a very thick binder and her laptop under one arm. "Oh. Hi."

"I need a minute."

Stepping back, he allowed her in, then closed the door because he knew that tone in her voice. He'd heard it on her first night back in Wakanda, seventeen days ago. When he turned around, he found her sitting on his bed, hugging herself. "Jill?"

"I can't fall apart out there," she said after a moment. "And... crap, Steve. I've been calling you an idiot, in regard to certain things that I didn't tell you about James due to patient confidentiality. You're not an idiot, you just didn't know. Not unlike Marie Curie, really. For that matter, if I'd known how deep the conditioning ran before Bucharest, I'd have told you that you could have caused a seizure just asking certain things-"

"Klonopin," Steve interrupted as he sat down beside her. "I had some in my pocket that Becca got for that eventuality, if it came down to that. And I realize how idiotic it was in hindsight, Jill... more so after today and yesterday."

She nodded. "And I admit to trying to force you to release some emotional pressure, too. Rebecca isn't here, and I'm not her, but..."

Steve chuckled at that. He'd started to suspect that, and it was good to hear her admit it. "Points for effort, and at least you've been preparing Buck for seeing her eventually. She's not the same girl he remembers, seeing him off for England. No one prepared me for her, and that was one reason she sent me into shock. Not the only one, but one of 'em."

Jill took a deep, settling breath. "There is that. And... what do you think? We didn't ask you about service dogs."

Steve glanced toward the door with a sigh. "He sleeps better with someone in the room, or with one of us right next to him on the couch, and talking, as much as he complains when he's half out of it. There isn't always going to be the option of a person, and he does need all the support he can get. And what happened this morning? He seemed..."

"More comfortable in his own skin afterward?"

"Yeah."

She smiled and stopped hugging herself. "Not completely certain, but I think, judging by those idioms in Klingon, that he smashed right through some of the conditioning by himself, with our support. That's why I had Khamisi hug him... first he had to want it bad enough, and then he needed us to hold him up while he did it. Call it traumatic integration, if you want a label."

"Oh."

She nudged his knee. "And while we might have another attack of the ten hour nap today, at least he'll sleep off the rest of the Ativan. I really did not want to do that to him."

Steve nudged her back. "Worry less about things you can't fix than things you can, and find the joy." She blinked at him in surprise. "That incident Buck half-way remembers about saving me in an alley? There was a guy mouthing off at a war newsreel in a theater. Also in the audience was a friend of Emma's whose husband was on a ship somewhere in the pacific. She would have been next in line to get into a fight with the guy had I not gotten him out of the theater when I did."

"Ah. Wasn't about wanting to fight, was it?"

"No. And you've seen Becca's wedding album, so you know they staged an informal, unofficial wedding ceremony in our bathtub. If she sent her wedding album, I won't have to explain it after all."

"Emma really said things like finding the joy?"

"Things to that affect. There was a war on, things looked bleak." He paused, thinking back. "She was the first family member to see me, like this, after. Anyone else, and I'd have gotten a lecture, but Emma? She was happy that I came to Becca's wedding, and happy to see me healthy in a way I'd never been before."

"Hmmm..."

"Ready to face the world again?"

Jill nodded slowly. "Even if I'm the one who wants a ten-hour nap." She blinked, startled when he reached over to touch her hand, bringing her attention to the finger-shaped bruises that were starting to appear. She stared at them for a minute before lifting her head to look at him. "It was worth it."

"You should have told me what you needed."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because when he started to react like that, there was no time to do much more than remember I was holding my laptop. He needed a focus and it couldn't wait for me to explain it, and yell 'Steve, hold his hand for dear life!' Though you'd have done it in a heartbeat." Jill studied the bruises some more. "Good thing I packed my Arnica Montana for mission, just in case."

"Arnica?"

Jill shrugged. "Anti-bruising agent. Lessens the severity and speeds the healing process." She glanced at him to find he was staring at her. "What?"

Steve shook his head. "I knew what it was. It's just been so long since anyone has mentioned herbal remedies to me. Sorry."

She nudged his knee again. "For what? I reminded you of home. It's a good thing. So... question for you. Golf, baseball, or the space program?"

Steve paused. "That was random. Huh?"

"Kristy and Rebecca sent me a bag of entertainment. Golf movie, baseball movie, or the space program?"

"Baseball," he said after thinking about it.

Jill smiled. "Sure you don't want the space program? Apollo 13 was really good."

"How good? And... maybe we should watch that one. Buck loves science."

"Really, really good." She glanced toward the door. "Science, huh?"

Steve nodded. "Yes. And we could watch both?"

"Good plan. Photo albums first, though." She picked up the thick binder from where she'd set it down on the bed and handed it to him. "Pepper brought this."

Steve frowned at her as he opened it and flipped through several pages... then he flipped back, and forward again. "This. This is a lot."

"I wasn't going to show you, but if Rebecca put it all in order after getting even more information than you two found in the vault on the computers there, it matters that you know." He glanced at her, confusion written in his eyes. "According to Pepper, Stark went back out to the base after arriving home, and found their file room. You heard their meeting. And... telling you a month ago about the BARF system thing wouldn't have solved anything or actually explained it. Choices were made, Steve. Yours and his."

"I know."

"Good." She gestured for the binder and he handed it back to her. "And I want you to continue the therapy we've been doing. There's still a story to tell."

"What? Decorating one wall wasn't enough?"

"Nope."

Steve sighed. "Right. It's weird... Bucky said the floating car of Howard's was red, but I saw green."

Jill nodded as her gaze slid to the nightstand next to the bed, which at the moemnt contained a lamp, a pile of books, two sketchbooks, and a bottle of clear fluid that reminded her of Vodka. "Why are you keeping alcohol on your nightstand?"

Steve reached over, picked it up, and handed it to her, whereupon she discovered that it wasn't Vodka, but Schnapps. "T'Challa got that for me, the second time he went to Berlin for the JCTF. And it's in here, because I have an idea. And am I really banned from writing to anyone?"

"It depends on the circumstances in which you do it," Jill told him as she studied the lettering. "I was mad that you set Rebecca off, Steve. I still am mad, actually. You wrote to her, told her... what did you tell her?"

"It's more what didn't I," he admitted. "And that was before I remembered you were an option, right after I'd written to Tony. And Pepper."

She nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Right. And the significance of the Schnapps?"

"It's from Augsburg."

"Augsburg?"

Steve took the bottle back from her and set it back in it's spot on the nightstand. "Dr. Erskine was from Augsburg. We were going to share some Schnapps after the procedure was done, but... HYDRA."

For a moment, Jill wondered if he would have told her if she'd not noticed the Schnapps sitting there. It had been incredibly hard, getting him to open up, and though she knew some of the details of how Dr. Erskine had died, she'd never heard it from the source. "And...?"

"And I thought I'd send it to Tony. Odd idea, I know, but-"

"No," Jill interrupted. "It's a good idea. A small step to lead to a bigger one. If either of you want to open up to the other, it has to start somewhere."

"Which is why I wanted to know if I was really banned from writing letters or not."

Jill smiled. "Draft a note, explaining the importance of it to you, and I'll proof it for you. No straying from the topic of Dr. Erskine, no meandering into discussing James. Simple, to the point."

Steve nodded. "I can do that." He watched as she opened up her laptop, turned it on, pressed several buttons, and then turned the screen to face him. "What now?"

"You asked, and I couldn't also show this to James without being utterly sure I wouldn't set off another flashback." She frowned. "Come to think of it, maybe we should have considered getting him a cat that likes kids."

Steve chuckled as she hit play. "You're only just thinking of that now?" They watched together for a few minutes. "Oh. That..."

"I didn't tell you in May, aside from the part where I was upholding HIPAA... knowing what he did frivolously with technology doesn't solve anything. You both still made choices."

Steve nodded. "Yes, but-"

The door opened suddenly, startling both, and Sam looked at them funny. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Jill told him as she closed her laptop again. "Just a little mutual therapy, and we can continue later. What's up?"

Sam sighed. "How much Ativan did Khamisi give to Barnes?"

She nodded to Steve. "His minimum dose, or close to it... one or two MG. Why?"

"Because he fell asleep on the couch in the common room and then I couldn't rouse him," Sam explained. "No reacting like he usually does when people are talking around him, either. Fujo and Pepper are watching him, making sure he doesn't swallow his tongue."

Jill stared at him. "Really? I noticed the yawning, but thought it would abate... Steve, what did Rebecca say when she found it in the vault?"

Steve paused, thinking back... "That the single-use vials were twice the dosage of a normal person's metabolism. In that box was Alprazolam, Clonazepam, Diazepam, Lorazepam, Midazolam, and Librium, among other things."

Jill nodded. "And Khamisi gave him an MG or so of something with ten times the kick of Valium, on my call. Darn it."

Steve frowned at her. "Ten times?"

"One milligram of Ativan is equal to ten milligrams of Valium, Steve." She stood up, sighed, grabbed the binder and her laptop from the bed, and stomped out the door, purpose in her stride that left two men staring after her before they even thought to follow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pepper watched from an armchair as Jill stomped into the room with a deep frown on her face, greeted Fujo, and immediately began taking manual vitals on Bucky, then checking his eyes with a pen light. "Elley was concerned about his yawning before. And... you carry a pen light?"

"Both of us were on the same page, then," Jill said as she finished checking his eyes, then stood up and looked at her. "His highness has a cat that does a lot of hiding, and any time Blackie ventures out... not as fun as the red laser pointer, but you know."

"Oh. How is he?"

"Sedated, strong pulse, normal breathing rate... James!" When he didn't react initially to her voice, she shook his right shoulder, he grunted, his eyes opened and he looked at her sleepily but without any wakeful awareness, and then he was asleep again. "Between a two and a three on the sedation scale. So... Miss Potts? Baseball, comedy, or space program?"

Pepper considered that for a moment. "Baseball? And what do you mean, between a two and a three?"

Jill grinned. "I'll be back." She stood up and turned just in time to see Steve and Sam catch up, and she motioned to the couch. "Far as I can tell, just sedation: he'll react, but fall asleep again. That's what I meant by between a two and a three, Miss Potts. And... I have an and. I don't want to think about the and..."

Steve rolled his eyes at her while reclaiming his seat on the couch from Fujo. "Go have your talk with Khamisi about your and."

Jill looked down at the binder again in her hands, glanced at Bucky's sleeping face. Then she nodded and left the common room in a rush, scooping up her laptop as she went.

Pepper frowned at him. "What does she mean, she has an and she doesn't want?"

Steve glanced down at Bucky before looking at her. "Becca and I found Lorazepam in the vault where he was kept, Pepper. Among other things. The box Becca found the sedatives in was labeled 'Cryo-Prep.'"

"Oh," Pepper said, wincing in sympathy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was in the middle of a consult with a fellow doctor and the King in the medical lab when Jill entered with a very thick binder, found a flat surface, spread open the binder while setting her laptop aside, and started flipping pages until she found the one she wanted, which had been flagged and labeled 'medical information' by Rebecca. "Jill?"

"Hang on." Then she blinked, pulled a flash drive out of her pocket, and set it down on the counter. "You'll be wanting that."

Khamisi frowned at her as he picked up the flash drive. "Right. Jill-"

"Wait, I'm reading... thought so. They noted tolerance but abnormal sensitivity to hypnotic benzodiazepines, including Lorazepam, which we didn't know before we gave it to him, dang it." Jill sighed and looked up at him, then frowned at her husband standing next to Khamisi and T'Challa, who was looking at her funny. "Uh..."

Damian smiled. "Surprise?"

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... what in Green Acres are you doing here? For that matter, when did you get here?"

T'Challa smirked. "I needed a consult with an Orthopedist, as well as my own medical team. And he's been here for half an hour, Dr. Mack."

"I needed a day away from Ituri and wanted to see you," Damian put in. "And what about benzodiazepines?"

"Our patient is sedated on the couch right now from 1mg of Ativan," Jill told him with a pointed look at Khamisi. "Was it one or two?"

"One and a half."

"Right. We're not ever giving him Ativan again." Jill flipped a few more pages in the binder until she found evidence pictures from the bank vault, showing the boxes clearly. "See?"

Khamisi took the binder from her and studied the pictures, then shuddered. "It hadn't even occurred to me that they'd have used hypnotic sedatives to calm him down, prior to freezing. Makes sense, though." He looked at the opposite page, showing the chair. "Is this...?"

"The reason that Cooper sent him into dissociation by accident? Yes." She looked at her husband. "So: Field of Dreams or Three Fugitives?"

Damian smiled. "Three Fugitives. Why?"

"Because I've got two guys who missed seventy years of stuff... and Steve and Pepper both voted for baseball, and I need some comedy, even if James is out cold, between a two and three on the sedation scale." She glanced at the binder still in Khamisi's hands. "Still need him for a consult, or can I steal him?"

"We'll come and get him if we need him," Khamisi said. "Can I study this?"

"That's why it's here: medical history is important." Jill held out her hand, and Damian took it. "You know where to find us, if you want us."

"Oh, go enjoy introducing Captain Rogers to media, would you?"

Jill smirked. "Plan to, but I need a vitals cuff for the wrist first." He handed one to her. "Thank you!" Damian suddenly caught one of her hands in his and inspected it, frowning at the bruising. "It's nothing that won't heal, and also what happened this morning. Psychological crisis."

"Bad?"

"Bad enough." Jill pointed to the flash drive that Khamisi had set down in favor of the binder. "Your Highness? Miss Potts said that Mr. Stark studied the part of James's arm that he blew off and consulted with a doctor and a mechanic. That's what is on the flash drive."

T'Challa picked the flash drive up with a nod. "Thank you."

She paused, looking at him with wide eyes. "Wait a minute. We were so caught up in things that I forgot to ask you, and it's your house. Are you all right with dogs? I've yet to see one, and... oh boy."

"Dogs?" Damian wondered. "What are you talking about?"

"Service dogs. Miss Potts knows someone in Siberia with a litter of six month old pups, and he agreed to let us have two. One is for James, because he needs a companion animal that doesn't hide from a one year old and also belongs to him. No offence, Your Highness."

T'Challa shrugged. "I'm not offended. And it's a good idea." He paused. "Siberia?"

"Apparently Mr. Stark met people on his way out, and kept in touch to the point of him giving them a StarkPad." Jill looked at Khamisi. "Where's that report that Elley found?"

"Oh! Now it makes sense," T'Challa said as Khamisi set the binder down and reached for a piece of paper he'd seen the man reading when he had entered the lab. "I've met Elley."

Jill frowned at him. "You have?"

"Stark did not get out of Siberia by himself without any documentation, Dr. Mack," T'Challa told her with a wink. Then he sobered as he read the report. "And it's all right with me. What happened that Barnes bruised your hand?"

Jill sighed. "He had a flashback caused by Nathaniel being a one year old. Apparently, his nephew Amos was a very fussy baby." At Damian's chuckle, Jill smiled. "I know, right? It's hard to imagine Amos as a fussy kid. Anyway... he came out of the flashback, was fine for a minute or so, if confused, and then had a conditioned response reaction when I asked him what he remembered, and I didn't have time to explain what I needed, or it would have been Steve giving him a focus instead of me." She blinked when Damian stared palpating her hand suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you've got any broken bones in here."

"It only looks bad." He poked at her palm and she winced. "Ow."

"Xray for you, dear wife."

She sighed. "It's only sore."

"Let me be the judge of that." Damian looked at Khamisi. "If that's alright with you."

Khamisi nodded and directed him to one corner of the lab. "No, if I'd thought about his strength versus her hand, even one-handed, I'd have demanded an xray at the very least."

"It's just bruising," Jill objected.

"Let us be the judge of that," Damian told her again.

She did.

Chapter Text

It was quiet when T'Challa made his way to the 2nd floor common room near the kitchen, and he looked into the room to find Steve seated on the couch, singing what sounded like Irish Lullaby quietly in a round, next to a now-familiar mound of a person covered in a very green shawl that had pink and lighter green tassels. Sam was seated on the other end of that couch, and Miss Potts in one of the arm chairs, listening with a relaxed but concerned smile on her face. Stepping back, he glanced at Fujo, who was seated on a chair and reading a book. "All clear?"

Fujo set the book down on her lap and looked at him, smiling slightly. "Other than the oddity expected of the Sergeant? Yes."

That she'd put it like that spoke volumes, and he glanced into the room again. "I saw Dr. Pentel's hand. Intercede before something like that happens next time."

"I wasn't present for that," Fujo admitted. "Happened during shift change and on Mr. Wilson's watch. But duly noted, and I'll tell Shuri, too, so we can all be aware. How is she?"

T'Challa sighed. "Being seen to by Khamisi and her husband right now, letting her have breathing room and time, and going over x-rays of her hand." Silence reigned for a moment, then he smiled. "It was a good idea that Shuri had, getting him here."

Fujo nodded. "It was." Then she blinked at Miss Potts who had snuck up on them. "How'd you move so fast?"

Miss Potts smiled at her. "I didn't. You were distracted." She looked at T'Challa, glanced back into the common room, and then nodded and beckoned him to follow her away from the doorway. When she was satisfied, she turned and looked at him seriously. "Thank you."

"For what, Miss Potts?"

Miss Potts frowned at him, shook her head. "Pepper. Please. And I'm thanking you for a lot here, but mostly... making Tony get out of Siberia the long way."

"Oh you didn't," Fujo breathed, her tone all sorts of mock scandalized.

T'Challa turned and looked at his Dora Milaje with raised eyebrows. "He was in no danger, and he needed time and sleep. Of course I did."

Fujo chuckled and returned to her book. "In that case, I'll pretend I know nothing, Your Highness."

He turned back to look at Pepper to find her silently laughing. "How is he?"

"Improving. Does Steve know you did that?"

T'Challa shook his head. "No, because he was out of it from going to the breaking point and not eating enough like he should have been, that he passed out at my feet and took Barnes with him, and then I had to give him emergency Insta-Glucose, once Barnes could tell me about his metabolism and make me understand about the Super Serum. He was out of it for a while and went through five tubes before he was cognizant."

She glanced back toward the common room. "Oh."

"And everyone here has been making sure he eats enough ever since."

Pepper sighed. "That makes sense. Anyway... thank you for that note you sent, telling me that Tony would be back in New York eventually. It helped. It also took him two months to even admit to me that he drove five hours from the base to Oymyakon, or that he was even stuck in Siberia to begin with."

T'Challa frowned at her. "Most people would own up to something like that."

"Your highness, you've met Tony. Getting him to tell you his shoe size is easy, everything else is not."

He had to agree with that assessment, though he'd not actually spent that much time in the man's company.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waiting while Khamisi and Damian read the X-ray together after the King had taken his leave, Jill had time to sit on the bed in the lab and just look around, her gaze finally going to the cryo-bed that was still in here, even if now in one of the other corners of the room because it took up too much space otherwise, and Khamisi wasn't sure if he wanted to dismantle it yet. She stared at it for long minutes before hopping off the bed and getting a closer look at it.

It was taller than she was, and the glass had been cleaned of any residue that the coolants would have left behind. And... aside from when she'd seen Bucky actually in it, it seemed harmless. Seemed being the operative word. Jill shook her head slowly as she walked around it before glancing toward the other two again, to find them watching her. "What?"

Khamisi shrugged. "Nothing. I just didn't think you liked that thing much. Usually, when you're in here, you avoid looking at it."

"I don't," she told him as Damian joined her at the cryo-pod. "And the only reason I'm looking at it right now is because there's time to."

"Is this an upright bed?" Damian wondered, staring at it.

"It's the cryo-pod James spent six weeks sleeping in of his own will."

"Oh. That's... wow." Damian walked around it himself, then frowned at her. "And you're examining it why?"

"Siberia."

"Huh?"

Jill put a hand on the glass. "Yesterday, I tried to get Steve to talk about Siberia by making him free-draw associate. I ended up with an awful picture of Tony Stark, and the room that held the frozen soldiers... including an empty one of these. And the chair set up in the center of the room. I almost tore it to shreds when I realized what he'd given me, when I realized that James had been standing mere feet from... horror, and holding it all together because he had to."

"I'd like to see that one," Khamisi said after a minute of silence.

She nodded and looked at the cryo-pod again. "And then this. Of his own will, because he was terrified of being used again. Of being forced to... I'm angry, damn it! And there's no time for it!"

"There's time today," Damian told her, slowly taking her injured hand in his. "And you are going to take it. Right now. It's not broken, by the way. Just... how was he holding your hand?" She showed him. "Oh. No wonder. He nearly dislocated your thumb. That's why it's sore the way it is. Khamisi? Ace wrap?"

"I don't want-"

"Jill. Stop. Take a deep breath." She stared at him, then took a deep breath and let it out. "Better?"

"If I lie, will it make you feel better?"

Damian snorted in laughter as he accepted an ace wrap bandage from Khamisi and wrapped her hand. "No. And you know better than this, about the emotional distance you have to keep in your head."

Jill sighed. "Are you really giving me the lecture on medical empathy?"

"Yes." She reached up and kissed him on the nose. "What was that for?"

"Allowing me my anger. Being a shoulder to cry on." Jill stared up at him, gazing and drinking him in. "It's just... this is personal. It couldn't be more personal. And I can't wait until he gets most of his issues ironed out so I can see him, himself. I saw him this morning, in the midst of the flashback with Nathaniel when he thought it was Amos, and it hit me, how much everybody lost, you know? Amos is... what?" She counted on her fingers. "Seventy-seven now. I think. And he had an entire life without the uncle who sang to him, who probably read him stories, and got him to calm down when Hazel and his father couldn't from what was maybe Colic. And... I'm going to mix up my tenses, because this is that complicated, and I've been thinking of Miriam teaching Irish Lullaby to me as a way of dealing with crying babies. Where'd she learn it? Her father, who learned it from James, who himself learned it from Sarah Rogers. And... psychological crisis isn't how I like starting my mornings, two days in a row."

Damian nodded. "Screwed up tenses or not, that made sense. What was yesterday?"

"Steve made fantastic pancakes." At his incredulous expression, she smiled. "And you thought pancakes were a safe food, right? Not when made by a HYDRA operative for The Asset who is on a liquid diet."

Damian winced. "Oh. Your stories aren't going to be at all normal today, are they?"

"You want normal?" Jill smiled and pulled him from the lab. "Oh, we've got ourselves some normal!"

Khamisi chuckled to himself and returned to studying the binder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the common family room, which was one of two on this floor and closer to the bedrooms than the other one by the kitchen, Clint looked up from coloring on a sketchpad with Nathaniel to find Jill and an unfamiliar man watching them. "Oh. Hi."

"Damian wanted to see something normal," Jill said with a smile. "This is as normal as we get, right?"

Clint chuckled. "Until Wanda makes Lila's day with a red mist display and makes the crayons dance, yes."

"Oh, can I?" Wanda asked as she led Lila and Cooper through dance moves.

"Yeah, Dad! Can she?" Cooper asked. "It's fun!"

"No," Clint told her with a look. "I like the crayons un-hexed."

"Bug!" Nathaniel suddenly said, looking up at Jill.

Damian frowned. "Bug? You're a bug?"

Jill chuckled. "Nope. And that was the fun you missed of the Psych Crisis. James is the Bug." She bent down and motioned Nathaniel to come to her, and he toddled over to her, and then she picked him up. "Your Bug is sleeping, Kiddo. Maybe tomorrow, hmm?"

"No Bug?" Nathaniel asked.

"No, no Bug." She watched at he started to pout, then looked at Damian and hid his face with a squeak. Jill held him closer, hugging him, then set him down again, and he ran back to Clint. "They're so cute at that age."

"Want another one?" Damian asked humorously, and Clint looked up at him funny.

"Jill, who is this?"

"My husband, Damian." She turned to give him a look. "And no, I don't want to start over, when we finally got Maria off to college and everything. Four was enough."

Damian rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Just a thought. Maybe a bad one, but..."

"I know." She glanced at Clint, and then at Laura, who was looking at them funny. "They snuck him in. And James is going to have a ten hour nap. Again."

"Better or worse than yesterday's ten hour nap?" Clint asked.

"That's the question, isn't it? On the bright side... we have a medical history now, so this thing that happened this morning by accident can't happen again." Clint frowned as he hauled Nathaniel into his lap. "Ativan sensitivity."

Clint nodded in understanding. "He was yawning a lot at breakfast, and definitely medically stoned."

"And I'm still wondering exactly what reaction to bananas it was that Rob witnessed, too."

Damian paused. "What about Rob? And... bananas?"

Jill grinned. "Oh that's right. You weren't at breakfast. Laura, Wanda? My brother witnessed a war veteran having a PTSD reaction to fruit with a waitress named Sally while on his way home from a conference in Austin, and gave him his business card. Only he didn't tell me about this, and if it weren't for Clint making fruit bowls for breakfast, we never would have known."

"But really," Damian said again. "Bananas?"

"Didn't I tell you the story involving Steve forgetting about the banana changeover when I got back to Mauritania?"

"Oh my," Laura suddenly said with a giggle. "You're kidding!"

"Nope, I'm not. Really not." Jill basked in the hilarity, then turned and looked at her husband, who was staring at her. "What? We've got normal, and then we've got Rob having a failure of imagination. Come on. You're due for the psychology lecture. And... Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"About how well does Steve tolerate time travel stories? I think I saw Star Trek Four in my bag of movies and albums."

Clint shrugged. "After he stopped complaining about it, he seemed to like Back to the Future just fine. And isn't The Voyage Home all about saving the whales?"

"So it'd be an interesting starting point?"

"Probably."

She nodded. "And we could also save the good stuff for when James is awake, too. According to Steve, he loves science. Which might explain why they sent From The Earth To The Moon..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the common room, Steve looked up from watching Bucky sleep the sleep of the accidentally sedated to find Jill sporting an ace bandage on one of her hands, carrying five DVDs as well as her laptop, what appeared to be a wrist watch, and a man he'd only seen once following her in from the hallway with blankets in his hands. "Jill?"

"Khamisi and the King are very sneaky when they want to be," she said as she set the DVDs down beside the DVD player, and her laptop on the seat of the chair she planned to sit in. "Damian... Captain Rogers, Miss Virginia Potts, Sam Wilson, Fujo, and the sleeping one over there is James. You'll meet him later when he finally comes to." She tossed the wrist watch to Steve, and he was surprised to find out that it wasn't, in fact, a watch. "Put it on his wrist, Steve."

Steve looked at Damian. "How is Ituri?"

"Better than here, apparently," Damian said, nodding to Bucky while Steve put the vitals cuff on his wrist.

"Just for that, and the unwanted xray, we're not watching Last of the Dogmen first," Jill said as she put a DVD in, turned the TV on, found the remote, and turned back to them. At Steve's expression of concern, she held up her ace-bandaged-wrapped hand. "Not broken, as confirmed by xray."

"Oh," Steve remarked as he watched her take the blankets from Damian and cover Bucky with them, making it so the shawl was on top.

"And doctors make the worst patients," Damian teased and then Jill glared at him. "What? It's true!"

"Who is this?" Pepper wondered.

Jill smiled at her. "My husband, Damian. Like I said: the good doctor and the ladies and the King snuck him in without my knowing about it." She turned to look at Fujo, who was silently laughing. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's been a long seventeen days!"

Fujo nodded. "You're welcome."

Steve frowned as the movie actually started with a really odd advertisement. "What is that?"

Pepper blinked in surprise. "That's... Jill, what did they send? That's an advert for Star Trek: The Next Generation. I think."

Jill grinned as she picked up her laptop before she sat down in one of the unoccupied arm chairs and Damian sat down between her feet. "A dubbed copy of Star Trek 4's video release, and you're correct. Oh... Steve? Here." She passed the envelope she'd been holding over to Sam, seated on one end of the couch at Bucky's feet, who passed it to Steve. "They sent a lot."

Steve frowned at her as he opened the previously-opened envelope to find a card with a picture of a very grumpy-appearing cat with the words 'Good Luck, you'll need it' on the front. He opened it to find a note and a separate piece of paper with a hand-written list...

Dear Jill,
We're glad you're there, too.
Grandma Becca talked me out of some things, and we had a lovely afternoon deciding on what to send you. And you're correct: if he managed to miss Bill Cosby, then we've done him a disservice in helping him get caught up.
Rob and I will be wanting our movies and albums back eventually. Enjoy.
Much love, and she thought he'd love the one with the whales.
-Kristy

Steve paused. "One with the whales?"

Jill smiled again. "Star Trek Four has whales... and is probably the best way to introduce you to Trek, if we don't have the Original Series at our disposal. Which we don't, unless His Highness has those under lock and key somewhere with his Monty Python collection."

"Oh." He frowned and looked over at her. "And just what is Last of the Dogmen?"

She tapped the top of Damian's head with a smile. "It's a western story. One of this one's favorite movies. But fun of you was made for the purpose of stress relief, and we can't introduce James to Elvis if he's sedated, so... Whales it is!"

Damian glanced back at her. "Elvis?"

"Yes. Elvis. Pepper was witness to Rebecca wearing the Elvis scrubs and knitting that shawl, and we've not had much of a chance to do any pop culture for him, due to the deprogramming process."

"Oh."

"Bug!" Nathaniel yelled as he toddled into the common room, now wearing a purple onesie, Wanda following behind him.

Jill laughed. "Again?"

"Clint keeps calling him a little escape artist," Wanda explained with a shrug as Nathaniel went straight for the couch and Steve grabbed him before he could do anything else.

Nathaniel looked up at Steve, then pointed down at Bucky. "Bug?"

Steve smiled. "He's tired, Nate. Wanda?"

"Sure you don't want to keep him? Seems to want his Bug," Wanda teased. "Asleep or awake. What do you think, Nathaniel? Want to stay?"

"Want!" Nathaniel agreed.

"As funny as this is," Jill broke in, seeing Laura in the doorway. "Laura? What do you think?"

"Oh, he can," Laura said with a smile.

"There's some blocks and things in one of the boxes that Pepper brought, then. In the room I've been using for an office."

Laura smiled again. "Oh? I'll be back."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laura returned with a set of blocks and a smaller box labeled "Dumbass Bars" on it. She handed those to Steve, who couldn't help but stare. "I opened the wrong one first."

Pepper chuckled at the expression on Steve's face. "One of the boxes has things from your apartment in it, Steve. Those were in one of your cabinets."

Nathaniel grabbed at the box as Steve took it, and they looked at it together while Steve shook his head ruefully. "Becca would yell at me if I started eating these."

"Bec?" Nathaniel asked, confused.

"Yes. Becca. Can you say that?"

"Bec!" Nathaniel enthused with a big smile, and then be blinked when Bucky grunted before lapsing back into sleep. "Bug?" When Bucky didn't respond again, Nathaniel looked up at Steve, who shrugged.

"He's sleeping. Reacts to things, but still sleeping."

"Laura?" Jill asked. "Can I see those?" Laura set the blocks down beside the couch, then brought the box over to her. Jill studied it. "So they're really called Dumbass Super Soldier Meal Bars..."

Steve nodded. "Tony named 'em."

"Uh-huh... was there a story to the naming, or is he just really random like that?" At his silence, she glanced up at him, noticed he was suddenly attempting to play Paddy Cake one-handed with Nathaniel. Then she looked at Laura. "Bring the other two in here in an hour or so? We've got Balto."

Laura frowned at Steve, nodded. "Good idea. Wanda? Weren't you going to help me with a physics lesson?" Wanda nodded. "Let's go, then."

Damian watched them go, then gestured for the box of meal bars. "Physics?"

Jill handed it to him with a laugh. "She's been learning from the King to better control her abilities. See one, do one, teach one? It's a wonderful learning method, and also a confidence booster, to pass on what you've learned."

"Ah. So it's therapy." He studied the box for a long moment before opening it and taking one of the bars out, opening the packaging as he did so. "This... looks like a really gooey granola bar. Or a Power Bar. Or a combination of the two."

"Power Bar?" Steve wondered as Nathaniel got down off his lap and started to play with the blocks.

"Think sports nutrition candy bar that doesn't taste very good." Damian looked at him with a frown, then at the bar again. "You mind if I try this?"

"Not at all." Steve watched with a grin as Damian gingerly bit into it, chewed for thirty seconds with a surprised expression on his face, and swallowed.

"How do you eat these things? They... I'm sorry, Captain. I'm in agreement with Rebecca on this. Real food is better."

Sam chuckled. "Maybe, but if we're in the middle of an op, it's better than nothing."

"Right. Do you mind if Khamisi and I do tests on these things?"

"Sure, go for it," Pepper told him before Steve could respond, frowning. "They're that bad?"

"I've tasted better Power Bars," Damian said with a grimace as he wrapped the bar back up right as Nathaniel got up and toddled over to him, demanding it. "No, bud. Not for you."

"Want!" Nathaniel argued, and pouted when Damian handed the box back up to Jill. "Shiny!"

Damian chuckled. "Yes, shiny. And no, you don't want. Let's go play with your blocks." Nathaniel focused on him with wide eyes, screeched loudly, and ran for the safety of Sam's legs. "Or you could do that..."

"Mmmph!" Bucky grunted, and sat up with a gasp.

"Bug!" Nathaniel yelled as Sam pulled him up into his lap with a frown. "Up!"

Bucky blinked a few times at both of them. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" They waited, but Bucky yawned again and leaned hard into the cushions of the couch, and Sam chuckled as he looked at Steve over his shoulder. "Well, at least he doesn't think I'm Gabe Jones again."

Damian glanced back at Jill. "Now I see why you're calling it somewhere in between, on the scale. Loud noises."

She nodded as she opened her laptop and turned it back on, while Steve pulled Bucky back down into a laying position and recovered him with the blankets. "Yep. And Sam? He called you that because he was in the middle of a nightmare when you woke him up."

"I know that. Just... like you said, it's been a long seventeen days. Have to find the humor somewhere."

"Jill?" Damian ventured as he heard her start typing.

"Yes?"

"Maybe now's not the best time to type-" and then he interrupted himself as both Sam and Steve turned to stare at him. "What?"

"They both know that telling me not to do case notes amounts to telling Steve, no he can't go for a run at 0600. And if you're worried about my hand, it's fine. Besides... Pepper's going to want to take something to Mike, and Mike and Jane are going to want it. I have confirmatory evidence on a lot of things, so far." She paused, looked at Pepper over the top of her laptop screen. "Correct?"

Pepper nodded. "Correct."

"So introduce yourself to Nathaniel, Damian, and get him used to you. Not that James being all confused and passing out on us isn't cute and entertaining... don't look at me like that, hon. I can't see you through my screen and I still know you are. Watch the movie, play with the kid. Whichever." She glanced at Sam. "On second thought, go tell Khamisi that I want a hair drug test done, so we can take full advantage of the sedation while it lasts. Take Nathaniel with you."

Sam nodded. "A hair drug test?"

"Yep."

"All right." Sam stood up, Nathaniel still in his arms. "Let's go visit the doc, kid."

Steve frowned again. "What's a hair drug test?"

"James didn't cut his hair yet, Steve. Everything a person takes, drug-wise, ends up in the hair as minute residue."

Steve looked down at Bucky. "Oh. So when you say evidence, you mean it."

"Yes, I mean it. And... Pepper? You want to be the one to tell Jane she gets to go to Catonsville for an interview with that waitress named Sally? If I do it, Jane will have to translate a cipher." Damian pushed her laptop screen down and looked at her funny. "What?"

"Interview with Sally?"

"Yes. And Rob, after I'm able to yell at him properly over email." She pushed her laptop screen back up and continued typing.

Pepper pulled her tablet out and consulted with Friday for a moment, then smiled. "I'll do it. We've got encryption already due to the ongoing mock trial being had on paper between Legal and Michael and Jane. What's the name of the diner?"

"The Double T Diner." She frowned in thought for a moment. "I think it's on the Baltimore National Pike."

"So you've been to this diner," Steve observed.

"Yes, I've been to that diner. I've gone to at least one Endocrinology conference with my brother, which is how I know he likes to stop there on the way home. It's kind of a throw back to the 50's, exterior is bright and welcoming and the interior is homey." She glanced at Pepper, smirked, and wrote something really quick on a piece of paper, then had Damian hand it to her. Pepper frowned as she read it, then frowned at Jill.

"Is this... what is this?"

"The telegram I was going to send. Granted, I was going to send it to Andi, but..."

"Ah."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Upon checking her email first thing in the morning after taking her shower, Jane was surprised to find an email from Miss Potts...

To: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
From: CEOWomenRock
Subject: Surprises...
Attachment: DoubleTDinerInformation, WarMachineAVLogPhotoRomania

Jane, you're going to need to go to Catonsville, Maryland and interview a waitress named Sally about a war veteran she met... two years ago now, a month after DC. Jill says the timing matches to some endocrinology conference in Austin that her brother Rob went to. Take Rebecca and the above picture with you.
And from Jill, so she doesn't have to send a telegram...
"Tell Crazy Scrubs that the March Turkey is defrosted.
Grateful for photo albums and packages received.
We started with the Whales.
Nathaniel's Bug loved the shawl. Something warm!
Sing Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral for Amos. Yes, really.
Addition to Martin's reading: ECT."

Jane frowned as she opened the photo attachment, and then could only stare at her Uncle, wearing four layers including two jackets, a black t-shirt, and a red Henley sweater. Also a backpack with a sternum strap. "Oh..."

To: CEOWomenRock
From: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: Re: Surprises...

Will do. And tell Jill thank you, and that I want details! Lots of details! And... was he wearing four layers all the time, or was that just for Bucharest because it's cold in the spring?

To: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
From: CEOWomenRock
Subject: Re: Surprises

From what I've seen so far, because it's not actually been that long this morning: He's always cold, and Jill's explanation was cold sensitivity. I've yet to see him without a sweatshirt, and he said "it depends on the day" before he passed out from sedation after breakfast. No, don't ask about that. It'd take too long to explain right now, and I'm still reeling a little.
Tell Rebecca that he loves the Shawl, like Jill said.
Also? Don't tell Rob until Jill can yell at him properly, about going to Catonsville.
She's making sure you get the details right now. And my day started with her being really distracted and an explanation of 'the moron gave someone on a liquid diet pancakes! I don't care if he's dead, he's still a moron!' Presumably, that story will be in the case notes...

To: CEOWomenRock
From: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: Re: Surprises...

I'd have to actually SEE Rob to say anything, Miss Potts. And I'll tell her.
And I get actual case notes? I look forward to that! (What am I saying? MIKE looks forward to that!)
She's right. Dead guy was a moron.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pepper smirked as she read Jane's last reply. "Jill?"

"Hmmm?"

"Jane agrees with you on whomever the dead man was, being a moron."

Steve frowned as Jill glanced up from her laptop screen. "Did you have an attack of 'thought someone was checking on you' with Pepper?" At Jill's nod, he chuckled. "Right. Pepper, tell Jane that she was talking about Brock Rumlow giving Bucky pancakes during some kind of op." Bucky mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and Steve reached down to soothe him by stroking his hair.

"Rumlow? The man that blew himself up in Lagos trying to kill you?"

"Yes. That guy."

Jill lowered her laptop screen to look at Damian. "What do you think? Two on the sedation scale? Or still a three?"

"Probably still in between."

Jill nodded and returned to typing. "So it knocks him out, he's pliable for a while, but slightly arousable if someone yells at him... long enough to, say: put him on ice."

Steve winced. "That makes gruesome sense." He watched the movie for a long minute... "So they've done this time travel thing before?"

"Yes," Damian said with a smile, then blinked with Steve sighed dramatically. "What?"

"You all keep showing me things with time travel as a plot device!"

"It get's better," Pepper assured him. "And you're probably one of the only people living to know exactly what their time-adjustment problems are going to be like."

"I still threw two agents through a fake wall, Pepper."

Jill chuckled. "One of these days, we're going to talk about that, specifically. And... why was there throwing of anyone through a wall?"

"Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"You brought it up, and group therapy is good for the soul." She glanced at him. "What was the other thing with time travel?"

"Back to the Future," Sam answered as he reentered the common room behind Khamisi. "And that was because he tested Barnes's memory with actor trivia, right out of cryofreeze."

"Bug!" Nathaniel said as Khamisi bent down in front of the couch and moved the blocks. Bucky grunted, opened his eyes blankly to look at Khamisi, and then rolled away from him toward the cushions.

Khamisi blinked at that, then looked back at Sam. "Come back in a few minutes? I'd rather he didn't move while I do this." Sam nodded and took Nathaniel with him again, and Khamisi turned back to look at the back of Bucky's head. "You're right, Jill. Between a two and a three. I could give him a reversal agonist..."

"That has it's own side effects, and we don't know how he'd react to it."

"Good point."

"Reversal what?" Steve wondered.

"An antidote for Benzodiazepines, Captain," Khamisi explained as he laid out three pieces of foil, pulled on a set of gloves, and studied the back of Bucky's head for a long moment. "Keep him calm and still if he does wake, all right?"

Steve nodded. "Why are we taking advantage of the sedation, exactly?"

Khamisi very quickly took three pencil-thick strands, wrapped them in the foil, and then set back and took a deep, calming breath. "Because if we tried this when he wasn't sedated, he might throw me through a wall and not realize he did it."

Steve blinked in surprise. "What?"

"During session three, I brought up the subject of a haircut," Jill explained. "Even went so far as to show him the scissors. He had a panic attack and refused to come out of the corner for an hour. We haven't gone into that subject again since."

"Oh."

Damian frowned at Khamisi while the man put his kit back together. "Exactly what haven't you been telling me over email? 'Oh everything's fine here, honey... how's your day, and remind Martin to do his reading that he's not loving, even though he's the one who asked the question.' Uh-huh... Steve, do you have email, so I can ask you instead?"

Jill snorted in laughter when she looked up at Steve and saw the wry expression. "If you had email right now, would you use it?"

"I left my phone with my jacket at the bottom of an elevator shaft in Berlin," Steve told her frankly. "And I might, if I could, if the political situation wasn't what it is, and Becca wasn't being watched by the State Department. I want to talk to Becca. I want Bucky to be able to talk to Becca."

"Steve?" Pepper asked after a minute of movie-watching silence and Khamisi quietly leaving the room. "I was actually going to ask you about your jacket. Natasha found it, wanted to know how you and it ended up there, at the bottom of an elevator shaft. And before James passed out, he mumbled something about no control, whatever that means."

Steve winced and looked down at Bucky. "So he does remember at least some of it. I wondered. Soldat punched me, is how I ended up at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Backed me right into an elevator door."

Pepper shared a look with Jill, who had paused her typing to listen. "And then?"

"And then I had to climb out and go crash a chopper." He shook his head and stroked Bucky's hair again. "Can we not? Not now. If he does remember it, I don't want to give him nightmares."

"That's all I wanted to know," Pepper told him. "And we don't have to continue talking about it right now. We're watching the movie."

"Even if the movie is a time travel story," Steve muttered as Sam returned with a happy Nathaniel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Michael Proctor got into his office that morning, he was surprised to find that Jane wasn't already at her desk, hard at work. Then he found a note on his own desk... Gone to Catonsville, MD with your grandmother for an interview with a waitress and coffee. Three hours there, three back. Will explain tomorrow. -Jane

Michael stood there reading over and over for a minute before nodding to himself and sitting down at his desk. If it was that important, and if she took his grandmother along, then he'd wait to hear the explanation.

Chapter Text

Early morning was usually a quiet time in the Proctor-Baines (and Nettleton) household, Rebecca reflected as she sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. She sipped her coffee, and puzzled at one article related to ongoing construction. It seemed like they never stopped building.

A knock at the front door sounded, startling her out of her reading, and she frowned. Who would be coming over at this early hour? Was Daniel back early from his business trip, and had he forgotten his keys?

Getting up to answer the door, she frowned again at Jane, who seemed to be jumping out of her skin with excitement, though she was standing still. "Good morning."

Jane smiled. "Can I come in, Aunt Becca? I've got something you're going to love. Well... maybe love, or it might make you want to throw things."

"Oh really? At this hour?" Rebecca pursed her lips and stood aside, just as Mason fell off the couch with a grunt and Miriam ambled into the kitchen, not even saying hello to either of them. "Mason?"

"I love this carpet," he mumbled.

Jane laughed. "Oh, Mason! Really?"

"Huh?" Mason looked up at them blearily, then rolled his eyes. "Honestly? I've fallen off the couch at least three times a month in a year. And Miriam wanted me to stay last night, so I didn't go to the Detail's apartment."

"Ah. Well, up with you. I've got a thing. You're going to want to see the thing. Thing is good."

Rebecca frowned and led them both to the kitchen, where Miriam was staring at her cup of coffee. "Don't."

Miriam blinked up at her. "No amount of you telling me not to feel guilty is going to make me feel any less at fault, Aunt Becca. It still hurts. Good morning, Jane."

Jane paused, taking in how disheveled her first cousin was, even for having just gotten out of bed. "Miri?"

"I'm fine, Jane. Just... things. Bad things."

Rebecca sighed. "I keep telling you, Miriam. Hazel did the right thing. And you were eleven. Stop kicking yourself, please."

"I'm missing something here," Jane said slowly as she sat down at the table and pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. "What was the right thing? And... eleven?"

Miriam glanced at Mason as he sat down, then looked at Jane. "When I was eleven, Grandma Hazel and I had a near-miss while out grocery shopping. With Uncle James."

"Oh?" Jane asked as she unfolded the paper and handed a picture to Miriam. "Did he happen to look that good?"

Miriam blinked in surprise as she looked at the photo, taking in the four layers and the ripped sleeve and the metal left hand that was clenched while his other hand was not. "I... no. Where did you get this?"

"From Miss Potts, very early this morning, along with a message from Jill." Jane handed her the piece of paper. "Among other things, you'll need to sing Irish Lullaby to your Dad."

Miriam read the printed out emails for a long moment before grinning and handing the page to Rebecca. "That's weird. Why would she make that suggestion?"

Rebecca sat down as she read, then smiled. "Amos had colic, Miriam. And whom did you learn Irish Lullaby from?"

"Dad. What does that have to do with anything? And... why are you looking at me like that? What?"

"Put another way: who would have taught Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral to Amos? It wasn't Hazel or Richard, or me, or Emma, or our parents. And it was something only usually heard around our home when Steve was ill after his mother died. Until Amos had Colic, that is."

Miriam looked down at the picture in her hand. "You're telling me that Uncle James taught my father a song, that I...? Oh. Wow."

"So is Jill, in her own way." Rebecca glanced at Jane, as Mason took the paper and read it. "Is there a way to reply?"

Jane nodded. "Later today, after we've gone to talk to that waitress."

"Catonsville?" Mason wondered. "Where is that, exactly?"

"About thirty-six miles out of DC," Jane told him. "Why?"

Mason smiled and looked at Rebecca. "Do you want to meet Lucinda? That's close enough that she can take a long lunch and meet us there."

Rebecca took the paper back from him and read it through again, then looked at him. "Go ahead and call her. Also, I want you to take pictures and do Emma proud."

"Um... why?"

"I have an idea. You'll love it, darling nephew."

"Aunt Becca, that's usually how I end up spending the night on the couch. You and having some wild idea."

Rebecca looked at Miriam. "What do you think? Christmas in July, the leaves, or Elvis?"

Miriam glanced at Jane. "You mind going anywhere with a woman dressed in skiing penguins?"

"Not at all." Jane winked at Rebecca. "Though Elvis is a fabulous idea."

Rebecca nodded and stood up. "Both, then."

"I vote for the monkeys," Mason told her with a grin.

"Of course you do."

Miriam watched her go, then looked down at her pajamas. "I should go change, too. And Mason?"

"Hmmm?"

"Peter Pan."

Mason smirked. "Sure you don't want Speedy Gonzalez or Goofy?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Speedy is too orange for me to look at it all day long, and as much as I love Goofy... no."

They were alone in the kitchen for a minute when Mason leaned over to Jane. "It possible for you to send a bunch of pictures back through the encrypted email?"

Jane smiled. "I think so. Why?"

"I have an idea," he said as he stood up. "Maybe a bad one, but... still an idea. And Aunt Becca did say she wanted me to do Grandma Emma proud. So we will. As a family. Together."

Later, a request would go out via Daniel's facebook account: "We've had a rough couple of days and Miriam and Becca need to see all of your faces. Assignment for today: everyone is to take a safe and sane selfie even if usually you never do, and then a picture of where you are or whom you're with. Kudos if you can do both at the same time. Post them and Tag both myself and Jane. Thank you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone in her bedroom, Rebecca had time to choose five scrub tops and put them in a bag for safe-keeping while she picked a sixth to wear first. Her hand stumbled across one she'd gotten for herself in a fit of wanting to support Steve and the Avengers and she smiled for a moment before taking it off the hanger. It was red, with stars and graphics of Black Widow, Thor, Iron Man, Captain America, Hawkeye, and the Hulk. Turning around, Rebecca found Mason standing in the doorway, a smile on his face. "What do you think? Too much?"

Mason shook his head and hefted the camera. "Put it on over your undershirt, even if it isn't the one you're going to wear."

"Mason..." She studied him, then did as he asked. "All right."

Mason motioned to the bed where Gracie was lounging. "Sit down with Gracie." He watched as she did so, then frowned as he studied them. "Something's missing..." Spying the tablet on her dresser, he picked it up and handed it to her. "Pretend to read, and pet Gracie."

Gracie surprised them both and climbed into Rebecca's lap, and they shared a chuckle.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the parking lot of the Double T Diner in Catonsville, Rebecca got out of the car and looked at the building with an interested frown. It was bright, old-feeling, welcoming, and reminded her of Happy Days in Brooklyn... if it had more room and was decorated differently. "I can see it, you know. How he could have washed up here."

On the other side of the car, Jane smiled as she closed her door. "Is welcoming. Classic, too. And just think... if you'd gone with the blue skunks instead of the Lilac, you could have matched their exterior color scheme."

"Jane..."

"What? It's true!"

"And there's Lucinda," Mason said suddenly, excitement in his voice and they both turned to see a blonde woman in a nice dark blue button-down shirt and a skirt and flats approaching from the direction of another car. "Hi!"

Lucinda smiled as she looked at Mason's outfit, then laughed. "Whose idea was Peter Pan?"

"Mine," Miriam asserted as Rebecca shut the car door. "Or he was going to test my patience by wearing something orange." She held out her hand. "Miriam Baines. Lilac Skunks is my Aunt Rebecca, and the other woman is my cousin Jane."

Lucinda returned the handshake. "Lucinda Conklin. And it's good to finally meet you all. And... what are we doing here?"

"I am going to interview a waitress," Jane told her. "And you'll never guess why."

"Oh?" Miriam suddenly pushed a paper into her hands and pointed at the diner. Lucinda frowned at her, then looked to find that she was holding a picture of... "Oh. No, I never would have guessed that." A sudden clicking sound drew her attention and she glanced up to find Mason taking a picture. "It's one thing to fly under the radar and lie to my boss, it's entirely another to have pictorial evidence of it, Mason."

"He's following my orders," Rebecca told her. "And it's for Pepper only."

Miriam smiled at Lucinda's confusion. "Well... not just Pepper, but you didn't hear that from us. And after all, you're with us. We are the last people who are going to tell anyone you were here, including your boss the Secretary of State."

"What are you people doing here?"

Mason turned to find a member of his detail team frowning at them, hands on hips. "Oh. Hi Bill. We're... here for coffee. What are you doing here?"

Bill nodded to the diner. "Visiting family. You know, like I always do on my rotation day off. Sally's due to take a break in about ten minutes." All but Lucinda stared at him in shock. "What?"

Rebecca stepped forward. "I'd love to meet your sister, Bill. In fact... that's exactly why we're here."

"You're not going to make her read the manual too, are you, Mrs. Proctor?"

Rebecca shook her head. "No." Another click of the camera and she turned and looked at Mason. "And did you know it was Bill's sister?"

"No. I didn't even know he was from Catonsville." Mason fixed Bill with a look.

"You never asked," Bill said simply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Inside the diner, Rebecca was surprised about how nice it was, and watched as Bill went and greeted his sister, a brunette wearing a waitress outfit, holding a pencil and an ordering pad. She looked over his shoulder at them, then nodded and walked away. Bill came back to them, smiling. "She needs to turn that order in, and then she'll take her break."

"Hi Bill!" Another waitress said as she passed them holding a platter that had several dishes on it. "And... they with you?" At his nod, she smiled. "Hang on, and I'll get ya seated!"

"Thank you, Connie!"

Mason watched Connie deliver food to a table where a man and a woman were seated with two little kids, then turned to Bill. "So..."

Bill smirked. "I'm here often enough that I have a usual, and I went to high school with Connie. Helps that Brooklyn is so close, too."

"It's three hours away, Bill," Lucinda pointed out.

"And I've been stationed in places that were half-way around the world." He shrugged, glanced at Rebecca and Miriam and Jane. "Not that it's a good thing that I'm on the detail that's only in Brooklyn to follow you around, but... three hours? It's fantastic."

Miriam smiled at that. "Silver linings."

"Exactly."

Connie returned right then, without the tray. "So... Six of you?"

Bill nodded. "Seven. Sally's joining us."

Connie glanced over all of them, then nodded and led them to a table far away from the door. They sat down and she pulled out an ordering pad after passing out menus. "I know what Bill's having. What do the rest of you want to drink?" She took their orders and bustled off to fill them.

Miriam glanced around at the tables and the stools... "I wonder where-"

"Okay," Sally interrupted as she sat down next to Bill with a smile. "To what do I owe the company? Bill doesn't usually come with so many. And why didn't Kurt come with?"

"He's with Daniel on a business trip," Bill answered. "And these people brought themselves, supposedly for coffee, all the way from Brooklyn, except for Lucinda. She's local. Sort of."

"Jane, this is your show," Rebecca began as she gestured for the picture back from Lucinda and then handed it to Sally. "But I'll do the asking. Have you met this man?"

Sally studied the picture of the man wearing two coats, a red henley sweater, and what appeared to be a black t-shirt underneath, as well as a backpack with a sternum strap, hair to his shoulders... "Oh. The thin mystery sergeant from a while back, when Doctor Mackenzie was here, time before last. Looks better in this picture. Gosh, he looks upset. What happened?"

"What can you tell us about him?" Jane asked, notepad out and pen ready.

Sally frowned. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. He was overly thin, wearing a baseball cap and jeans and at least two layers when he was here. Doctor Mackenzie and I watched him have the weirdest reaction to fruit salad that I'd ever seen... swearing in at least three languages, different ones, including what sounded like Russian, every time he tried to eat a piece of fruit. And then Doctor Mackenzie told me to get him some eggs... you know, bland foods, because he was having such a bad reaction to the fruit. I got him a breakfast platter, toast, soup, and Rodney, one of our cooks, suggested a chocolate shake with protein powder. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have remembered a particular food order, but this was out of the ordinary."

"Anything else?"

"Aside from my surprising him and him pulling a knife on me like Bill here did when he had PTSD really bad, and then being shocked that he'd done that?"

Jane glanced up at her. "A knife?"

Sally nodded. "Yes. A combat knife. I took it away from him. Oh, and he said he'd been on liquids. Why?" Bill tapped her arm, and she handed him the picture.

"Because..." Jane motioned to Rebecca. "You've just identified her formerly missing brother as your mystery Sergeant."

Sally looked at Rebecca, eyes evaluating the elderly woman. "Really? I'd have guessed grandson. And... Bill, why are you laughing?"

Bill passed the picture to Mason, sobered. "Mrs. Proctor? Tell her who he is. Please. And... wow, was not expecting that. Do you still have that knife?"

Sally shook her head. "No, I gave it to Doctor Mackenzie. Nice man, comes through here once or twice a year on business. And... oh. I gave the Sergeant one of my nutrition books, and the good doctor gave him his business card. And... why are you, lady, writing all of this down?"

Jane smiled but did not look up. "Aside from the knife incident, was he violent?"

"No. Just confused, hungry, and far too thin, like the VA had let him go too soon or something." Sally looked at Rebecca, who was smiling back at her. "Who is he? And is he okay?"

Rebecca nodded. "He's fine, as far as we know. And he really is my brother, James Barnes. And Jane is working on a Burden of Proof."

Sally stared at her. "Sergeant James Barnes? Howling Commando, Second World War, recently framed for an attack on the UN as the Winter Soldier even though he's dead... THAT James Barnes?"

"Yes. And this explains why Jill wants to yell at her brother."

"Huh?"

"Doctor Mackenzie is my grandson-in-law," Rebecca explained, and smiled when Bill started laughing again. "Bill's got the right idea. On some level, this is funny. Bill?"

"In a minute," he gasped. "Sorry! It's just..."

"It's a lot of things. And Mason will be taking your picture with the manual later."

"I... huh?"

"Manual?" Sally wondered. "And what's a Burden of Proof and why do you need it?"

Miriam grinned. "You see... Bill told her the story about his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder during one of our weekly strategy meetings with the Detail team. She forced him into reading our Psychology Manual because one does not pull knives on one's family if it can be avoided, and my aunt is a nurse. If he'd told that story when the psychiatrist in our family was around... Bill, you'd still be in therapy."

"As to what a Burden of Proof is," Jane explained. "And why we need it... a Burden of Proof is what one has to present in a court case, the evidence, negative or positive. And this?" She tapped the note pad. "This is positive. We needed it."

"Oh." Sally frowned at her, then looked at Rebecca. "Is he in trouble with the law?"

"He was framed for blowing up that UN meeting," Rebecca answered. "So yes, I'd say he's in trouble with the law, but not of his own accord. That's another reason we needed your statement."

Connie came to their table with their drinks right then and served, then paused. "Ready to order, or should I come back?"

"Not ready, Connie," Sally told her. She watched her go, then looked at Rebecca. "So... what detail? Bill didn't tell me anything, and now... now it makes no sense."

"That's a longer story involving HYDRA, the State Department, and my amnesic brother who ended up in Bucharest instead of Brooklyn," Rebecca mused. "And maybe Lucinda can explain the State Department. After all, she works there."

Lucinda shook her head. "No, I can't. And I'm simply here for lunch, not to explain the how or why of Ross putting you on a watch list when it makes no sense."

Sally looked at Bill, who shrugged. "That's why Kurt isn't here, by the way. Daniel, Miriam's husband, is also on our Detail Watch List. Only they know about it, so Kurt actually went along as a traveling companion and body guard. But we're not telling the Secretary of State that."

Lucinda chuckled. "Thank you, Bill. I so needed the levity."

"Happy to please." Bill watched Mason stand and line up a picture. "And what's the deal with the picture taking?"

"We," Mason waved his free hand at them. "Are making Grandma Emma proud. So smile. Act natural. Whichever." Connie passed by, and he snagged her arm after taking a picture. "Here. Take picture."

Connie frowned at him, took the camera, and watched as he went and bent down between Rebecca and Miriam. "Okay. Going to order?"

"In a minute. Picture, Connie." She took a picture, and then Mason took the camera back. "And we haven't looked at our menus yet. Couple more minutes?"

"I'll be back, then." She walked away again.

Rebecca opened up the menu and frowned at it. "You said James ordered a fruit salad, Sally?"

"Yes."

"Was it the Captains Boat with the pineapple or the Tropical Health Salad?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late in the day and Rob's day was winding down when Miriam showed up with Mason. "Hi. Having a better day?" Miriam nodded and swept him up in a hug. "Miriam?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you hugging me?"

"Something good happened," she answered and they stood there in the corridor for a while, drawing onlookers. Rob completely missed Mason taking a picture from three different angles.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael was just about to close the office for the day when Jane arrived with his grandmother, who was wearing the Skiing Penguins. "Oh, I thought you said tomorrow."

"I did," Jane said as she pulled things out of her purse, including a notepad. "But this was too good to wait on, and I can't say anything to Rob, so Aunt Becca and I are here instead of with Miriam and Mason."

Michael paused and looked at his grandmother, who had seated herself in Jane's office chair. "Too good to wait?"

Rebecca nodded. "Rob had a near-miss with James, two years ago, at a diner in Catonsville, Maryland. We talked with the waitress and Jane took her statement."

"Not exactly a near-miss," Jane said after a moment. "He did give him his business card. And then there's Miriam and Grandmother Hazel... which just happens to coincide with an entry from HYDRA where he disappeared for the better part of a month."

"Right," Rebecca concurred. "He ended up here in Brooklyn. We know he did, because Miriam remembers grocery shopping and Hazel never went into Manhattan or Queens to shop." Michael stared at her. "Miriam had a nightmare that turned out not to be one, two or three days ago, before Dan left on his business trip, which is how we found that out. She's still kicking herself over missing him like that, even though she was too young to know or realize, and Hazel did the right thing by walking away and protecting her from a possible threat." She sighed. "It does hurt, knowing he was here, that he was that close."

Michael nodded. "Right. So... Catonsville?" Jane pushed her notepad into his hand and he stared down at a written account, signed and notarized by a notary, from a waitress named Sally. "Oh. That's... oh."

"And as soon as Mason gets here with the camera," Jane said as she shooed Rebecca out of her chair and booted up the computer. "I'm going to work on sending pictures via the encrypted email to Miss Potts. She's in Wakanda right now, by the way."

"For what?"

"Running an errand for us," Rebecca said with a yawn. Michael pulled a chair over for her to sit in and she did. "And visiting. Still wondering what happened that rattled her, that James ended up sedated after. It takes a lot to rattle her."

"Better question," Jane said as she pulled up the encrypted email again. "Why is Jill adding ECT to Martin's reading list? I thought it was a question related to Mr. Stark's BARF system?"

Rebecca sat up, blinked at her. "ECT?"

"Yes." She watched as Rebecca's eyes went wide. "You know."

"Well... what happens when you damage a person's hippocampus? Plus, she's talked with Pepper obviously. Pepper has pictures of the cage thing that James was in, in Berlin. Did I tell you what she said about it, that the restraints were electrified to keep his arm immobile?"

Michael paused, shook his head. "No. You didn't."

"Well, when Pepper gets back, or-" Rebecca blinked, interrupted herself, and looked at Jane's computer. "Jane? Email Pepper."

"When Miriam and Mason get here, I will. And... wow." She'd logged onto Facebook and was perusing through pictures. "My goodness, that's a lot. Wow. Seriously."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To: CEOWomenRock
From: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: tropical health salad
Attachments: FacebookFamilySelfies, CatonsvilleInterviewPictures, MiriandRobHugPic, RebeccaGraciePic

Miss Potts, thank you for sending us to Catonsville. It did both Miriam and Aunt Becca good to listen to Sally. Tell Jill to be careful with the photos of Grandma Hazel and Miriam that date to 1973 when Miriam was eleven, as there was a near-miss with Uncle James when they were out grocery shopping. Not sure how flashbacks work in this case, but it's better that you're warned.
Sally's Story: he tried eating a fruit salad, and kept swearing in multiple languages every time he tasted the fruit. Sally wasn't sure if it was the pineapple or the bananas that did it, but Aunt Becca suspects Bananas. Rob called a stop to that after watching this for unknown amount of time and told Sally to get him bland foods instead, ie: a breakfast platter, toast, soup, and a chocolate shake with protein powder. (Actually, the shake was the cook's idea...) Also, he pulled a combat knife on her when she startled him... something that her own brother, who is on our detail team (he's the other guy in the interview pictures), did to her at least once while suffering PTSD. Also, Sally said she gave him an uncomplicated nutrition book.
Hope that helps.
There are a LOT of pictures because Mason was under orders to "do Emma proud," as Aunt Becca delicately put it, and then we challenged everybody to take selfies. Safe ones.
Also, I think we need more information on the restraints from the cell in Berlin, Miss Potts. There a way to get that?

Chapter Text

Pulling away from the computer to look around after sending the email to Miss Potts, Jane considered them all. Miriam was seated in Allison's office chair that she'd pulled into the room, frowning at her cell phone, while Mason was peeking at whatever it was over her shoulder. And Rebecca... was sleeping sitting up. Jane chuckled at that. "Miriam."

"Hmmm?"

"Nurse cat nap."

Miriam glanced up, smiled, and returned to her cell phone. "She was up early, and we dragged her all over creation."

Jane glanced at Micheal, who was leaning haphazardly against the doorjam in the doorway of his office. "It's weird... you know who I was thinking of all day, when I wasn't worried about Fran? Grandma Abby and Uncle Amos, and..."

Michael nodded. "I know, Jane."

"He missed her by three years. Steve nearly missed her, too..."

"But he didn't," Mason said absently.

Jane sighed and reached over to shake her aunt awake, and Rebecca glared at her mildly. "Sorry. How old was Grandma Abby when...?"

Rebecca yawned, then thought about it for a long minute. "Abiah was barely a year old, Jane. Why?"

"Just... how complicated this is. And... Fran told me to go, this morning when I checked on her. Told us to go and do what we had to do, that Henry was home and not letting her out of bed like she wanted to be, up and cleaning."

Rebecca nodded, smiling. "Good on Henry. But then, if I'd been stuck in bed since May, I would probably be a little stir-crazy too."

"So stir-crazy that she used that energy to call all the missionary parents in her son's hockey league," Miriam mused. "Told her where I was, just now, and Jane, she said to tell you that she found some missionaries who went to the Sakha Republic." She frowned. "Why would Mormons be going to the Sakha Republic, wherever that is? And why did you need to know?"

Jane turned and looked at Michael with a grin. "Mormons will do! And the answer to that, Miriam: they go everywhere. One of them probably even met John Smith the Ukrainian Siberian. And the Sakha Republic is in Siberia. That's where the lab is. And also..." She opened the folder on her desk next to her computer and pulled the report out of it, handed it to Mason, who gave it to Miriam. "That's why I needed a missionary that went to Siberia. We couldn't tell anyone officially that Mr. Stark got stuck there and met people."

Miriam set her cell phone down and read the report, then frowned at Jane, and gave it to Mason, who read it himself with wide eyes and then pushed it into Rebecca's hands. "You got that from Stark?"

"Actually from the nephew of that doctor, who is now the doctor in Oymyakon," Michael said with a smile. "Who sent it to Mr. Stark. Miss Potts sent it to us."

"Green Army Socks?" Rebecca wondered, and they all paused and looked at her. "Why would...?" She set the report back down on Jane's desk and thought about it for a long, long moment. {{"Oh. Something simple. Memorable and ordinarily incongruous... unless you're a soldier, had a best friend whose mother was a nurse and whose father died as a result of mustard gas in the first world war, and lived through the Depression."}} She glanced at Michael, who was frowning at her. "Remember those stories I used to tell about Chilblains?" He nodded. "I had them myself at least once in the winter time... we all did. Sarah told stories of hospital cases where the chilblains turned into gangrene. And..." She shook her head, blinked, and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'll lose my English. You get the idea, I hope."

"We do," Mason told her, and jumped, startled when Miriam's cell phone beeped with a text alert. "Miriam?"

Miriam read the message, smiled, and looked at Jane. "Henry says they're on their way to Maimonides, that one of the Detail guys volunteered to babysit until Jenny could get there and take over, so you could go and join them on maternity."

"Jacob," Mason filled in when Jane frowned. "I'll go and relieve him. Miri, I need a ride, since my car is at your house."

Michael laughed. "No, you're going with me, since my wife volunteered to babysit. You three go on."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the waiting room of the Payson Birth Center at Maimonides Medical Center, Miriam watched over her magazine as Rebecca, who had changed into the Elvis scrubs at Jane's request, sat across from her, keeping her hands busy with knitting. "I can't believe you packed knitting needles and yarn in that bag."

Rebecca smiled at her yellow-orange yarn that was slowly taking shape into a small baby hat. "One must always be prepared for boredom."

"Uh-huh... and I'm glad you used all of the Dill Green yarn."

"What? You don't think it would have looked good as a baby hat?"

Miriam laughed and concentrated on reading the gossipy articles. "Birth is a little young for Army or National Guard inductions. Other than that, I'm sure it would have."

Rebecca glanced at her, then looked at the yarn in her hands. "I could always get some more. Or the bright pink that I wanted originally..."

"It's not a girl," Jane told them from the doorway.

"So? Pink goes with everything!" Rebecca frowned up at her. "What's up?"

"Put the knitting needles and yarn away and come on," Jane said with a smile.

Rebecca did exactly that, then looked at her watch as she stood up. "Already? We've not been here more than an hour."

"Some babies just don't want to wait," Jane told her knowingly as Rebecca stood up. "And she was in transition when she got here."

"Ah. And you're right, every baby is different."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jane led Rebecca and Miriam into Fran's hospital room, where Fran was holding a small, baby-shaped bundle and Henry was perched on the edge of the bed at her side with a relaxed smile on his face. "By personal request... your grand aunt!"

Fran, pale and tired, but smiling nonetheless, motioned Rebecca over with her free hand, and Rebecca sat down on the other side of the bed. "We know how hard it's been lately, Aunt Becca, so... Henry? Tell her." She let Rebecca take the baby from her.

"This," Henry said succinctly. "Is Grant Buchanan Fuller. Seven pounds, two ounces. Nineteen inches."

Startled at the name, Rebecca stared down at the sleeping face, then raised her head to look at both of them as they smiled back at her. "Grant... Buchanan? Really?"

"Really," Fran confirmed, and reached up to catch the tears that were now flowing down Rebecca's wrinkled cheeks. "We wanted to surprise you. Good? Bad?"

"Good," Rebecca whispered as she looked down at the sleeping baby boy again, named for two men not present, but thought of often.

Over by the door, Miriam smiled and raised her cell phone and took a picture while Rebecca started singing Irish Lullaby. She had a feeling that Baby Grant would eventually end up with a Dill Green hat.

Chapter Text

Sixteen Hours post the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

White light nearly blinded him as Steve helped him out of the door of the base and out into the snow. Bucky bit his lip against the pain of having to be upright, as well as the pain in his head as he squinted down at the white snow.

"Come on," Steve muttered, his voice a breathless mix of pain and determination. "Not that far to the jet. Then I'll go back in and get Tony."

"Umph," Bucky mumbled back, interrupting him. "I'm not worth all this, Steve. You should have let him-"

"Don't start that again." Suddenly, Steve stopped moving forward, and Bucky had to bite back a yelp in pain at the loss of momentum. He looked up, still squinting against the white glare, to find the guy in the cat suit standing there with his helmet off, his face a wavering stone mask in Bucky's vision. "Uh..."

"Let me take him, Captain," T'Challa in a neutral tone that didn't match the expression on his face. "You look ready to collapse."

Steve simply stared at him, mystified. "Huh?"

"I heard," he said as he nodded to the doorway of the base behind them.

"Oh. Oh..."

Feeling a tremor go through him, Bucky fought to focus on Steve, and blinked in confusion at how pale he was under the helmet. "Steve?"

"I'm fine, Buck, I..." And then his eyes rolled back in his head, and suddenly it was Bucky holding him up, barely able to support his weight, and then they both ended up on the ground.

Bucky groaned and looked up at T'Challa, who was staring down at them with wide eyes.

T'Challa, mindful of Bucky's injuries, bent down and helped him to his knees, and then rolled Steve over so they could both look at him. He glanced speculatively over his shoulder at the SnowCat parked next to the Quinjet, then returned his attention to the two men in front of him to find Bucky shaking Steve's shoulder. "Sergeant?"

"I've seen this before," Bucky explained as he shook Steve's shoulder again and didn't even get a grunt in response. "I... can't put. Pieces. Can't place the why or how, but I have." He shook his head, winced at the pain it induced. "Extra rations? Something about Howard and Colonel Phillips and fuel?"

T'Challa frowned at him and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Take a deep breath, Sergeant, and let the information come to you."

"You wanted to kill me earlier today," Bucky muttered at him. "Why are you helping me? Us?"

"We'll have that talk after we figure this out. So... extra rations? Fuel? Your Colonel? Howard? The Captain? Something you've seen before?"

Bucky blinked, then nodded, and took a deep breath as he peered down at Steve. "I... In Berlin or on the way in from Bucharest, did you see him eat?"

"No. Why?"

"And I only saw him eat an apple and nothing more. Car. Leipzig." With effort, Bucky turned and looked hard at the doorway of the base before turning his attention back to Steve. "Oh! Metabolism!"

"Sergeant, I'm going to need a little more than that..."

Wincing, Bucky looked up at him. "What they did to make him big? His metabolism burns really fast. And if you didn't see him eat, and I only saw him eat very little when Sam insisted that I eat two sandwiches... crap. And then what happened in there, after what happened at the airport earlier..." He waved his right hand at the entrance.

T'Challa frowned down at Steve. "You mean the Super Soldier Serum."

"Yes!" Bucky took a deep breath and then looked at T'Challa. "There are two of you. Which one is you?" T'Challa shook his left shoulder carefully. "Oh."

"Up with you, now. I'll come back for him."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A glucose emergency gel stick in his hand, T'Challa shook the captain's shoulder hard enough to wake him, then handed it to him. "Eat."

Steve blinked up at him. "'Oh hear me oh lord, blue girdler of the islands...'"

"Captain? Eat."

"'...if I am thine indeed, and thou art father; grant that Odysseus, raider of cities, never sees his home. Laerte's son, I mean, who kept his hall on Ithaca, should destiny inend that he shall see his roof again among his family in his father's land, far be that may, and dark the years between. Let him lose all companions, and return under strange sail to bitter days at home.'"

T'Challa stared at him. Was he really quoting The Odyssey? "Captain?"

"'In a republic, who is the country? Is it the government which is for the moment in the saddle?'" Steve stared at him, then at the Insta-Glucose slurry in his hand. "'Why, the government is merely a temporary servant: it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't. It's function is to obey orders, not originate them.
Who, then is the country? Is it the newspaper? Is it the pulpit? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it, they have not command, they have only their little share in the command.'" He finally did suck on the glucose stick, and T'Challa breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes didn't clear, but his color improved slightly.

And then words started falling forth again, and T'Challa could only listen and wonder... "'In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country: In a republic it is the common voice of the people each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak. It is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catchphrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may. If you alone of all the nation shall decide one way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have your duty by yourself and by your country. Hold up your head. You have nothing to be ashamed of.'"

"Can you stand, Captain? Time to go." T'Challa couldn't place that one, but it felt familiar...

Steve stared at him blankly. "'The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail...'"

"I'm sure it does," T'Challa replied as he helped him up. "Come on."

"'Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment...'"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky was buckled into a seat into T'Challa's jet, resting with his eyes closed and doing his best to ignore the zinging of his left shoulder, when someone or something was plopped into the seat next to him. He cracked an eye open to find T'Challa buckling Steve into his seat, and Steve himself sucking on something that had white and red packaging. "Steve?"

Steve blinked, frowned... "'To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles..."

"That's Hamlet," T'Challa muttered as he pulled the now-empty Insta-Glucose stick out of Steve's hands, gave him another, and then handed Bucky three more. "Make sure he eats those, Sergeant."

"'Fair is foul and foul is fair, hover through the fog and filthy air,'" Steve interjected suddenly. "'When the hurly-burly's done, when the battle's lost and won.'"

Bucky looked at T'Challa. "He said something about going back in there, for Stark, before, and we can't just leave him. And-"

"I've got Stark, Sergeant. One thing, though..." T'Challa handed him a map. "Am I reading this right, that there's a settlement not too far away? I'd ask the Colonel, but don't want to remove his gag. He's done and said enough."

“'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known,'" Steve mumbled, and Bucky looked at him funny before taking the map from T'Challa and attempting to focus on it. The lines and the symbols kept blurring on him.

Bucky frowned up at T'Challa as he gave the paper back to him. "I think so? And that sounded familiar."

"'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...'"

T'Challa frowned at Steve again. "It sounds familiar because it's Tale of Two Cities." At Bucky's blank expression, he shrugged. "I'll be back. Get him to eat those, Sergeant. It's going to be a long flight." He took the map back, watched Steve for another moment, then shook his head in wonder as he headed back out of the plane.

Later, Bucky wasn't sure if he'd imagined hearing an engine start up while listening to Steve quote Romeo and Juliet under Zemo's glare or not...

Now...

Towards the end of The Voyage Home, Steve found he liked the quirkiness and the problem solving, even if it felt like they'd dropped him into the middle of the story. And it was about world saving, so it wasn't all that bad. "Interesting."

"Good interesting or bad interesting?" Pepper asked.

"Good." He glanced down at Bucky, still out from the Ativan sedation. "And this would be good to show him, I think."

"That's the idea," Jill said as she got up to change out the disks. Then she paused. "And this next one is based in something you might recall. 1925 Diphtheria outbreak in Nome, Alaska."

Steve smiled. "That statue is one of the things that hasn't changed about Central Park, Jill."

She changed out the DVD's with a grin. "Right. And after watching this, you'll start to be able to play Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon." She turned and saw the kids, Laura, and Clint in the doorway. "Come on in! Pull up some floor! We've got talking dogs!"

Cooper peered at Bucky, still asleep on the couch. "You weren't kidding about the nap attack."

"I never kid about naps like this, Cooper," Jill said as she returned to her seat. "Steve, really... Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon is a degrees of separation game, using Kevin Bacon, who plays the voice of Balto in this movie, as an example."

Clint nodded as he sat down on the floor next to Pepper's chair, Laura joining him, and Nathaniel climbing off of Steve's lap and running to the two of them. "It's a 90's thing. Actually gets really funny when the connections are made."

Bucky, who had by now rolled back off of his metal left shoulder, mumbled in his sleep. "Want plums. Plums..."

Steve frowned down at him, then shrugged and looked at Clint. "Thank you for that bit of trivia."

"Any time. How out is he?"

Steve grinned. "Nathaniel? Who is this?" He pointed down at Bucky.

"Bug!" Nathaniel yelled, and Bucky blinked his eyes open.

"Steve?" Bucky asked, yawning.

"Hmmm?"

"Elevator shaft." And then he was snoring again.

Pepper looked up from inspecting her finger nails, frowned at Bucky. "Elevator shaft?"

Damian frowned, glanced at Jill as Lila picked up the blocks from in front of the couch and took them over to where her parents and Cooper were sitting with Nathaniel. "You said he was having flashbacks?" She nodded. "Then maybe part of this is that he had a traumatic flashback and passed out when he hit peak."

"That makes sense. Would have happened at the same time." She watched as Steve stroked his hair again, frowning deeply. "Steve..."

"Like I said before," Steve mused. "I didn't want to give him nightmares. Not of that. And that's how out he is, Clint. He can't seem to stay awake, even if he wants to. Though he is putting words together now, so... improvement, thy name is elevator shaft." He frowned, glanced over at Jill. "And I've been wondering this since the 4th of July: what is a Chuck E. Cheese?"

Damian frowned at him. "Sort of an arcade slash restaurant slash theater for kids. There's one on Flatbush Avenue that we took the kids to a couple times for birthday parties. Why?"

Steve shrugged. "Something Commander Johnson said, about my continuing catch-up of popular culture. She seemed really offended that I'd not been dragged to one yet."

Sam laughed. "You mean the people who consulted with Khamisi on Barnes and then left us wondering about purple aliens?" At Steve's nod, he laughed again. "You could have asked at the time, you know."

"No, because the medical team brought Bucky out of cryofreeze after that and it didn't seem important. Can't go there right now, anyway."

Jill smiled at him, looked at Pepper. "Mason did say we'd have pizza when Damian and I got home. What's the chances that this'll get fixed in such a way that it's possible?"

"We'll discuss that later," Pepper answered. "And... is he off bland foods yet?"

Jill nodded. "Aside from the pancakes setting off a flashback? Yes. Why?"

"I have an idea," Pepper said as she got out of her chair and snagged her tablet from the end table. "Have to go discuss it with Fujo."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the hallway, Fujo was still reading her book when Pepper tapped her shoulder. "Yes, Miss Potts?"

"Need your help with something." Pepper showed her tablet to her. "Is this possible?"

Fujo turned her attention to the tablet, frowned at the picture of pizza. "I don't see why not. Why?"

"Because... a taste of home, and James probably hasn't had pizza in a really long time, and Jill got his attention this morning by mentioning it. She said he was off the bland diet now, so..."

Fujo smiled. "You're right." Shuri passed by right then with a yawn, and Fujo caught her arm. "How tired are you?"

Shuri blinked at her. "Why?"

"Miss Potts has an idea. Involves Pizza."

Shuri frowned and accepted the tablet from Pepper, studied the picture. "Hmmm... we've got a chef that studied cuisine in Italy, too. She'll love this. Lunch or dinner?"

"Dinner," Pepper said. "Sergeant Barnes is still out from sedation right now. So it's possible?"

Shuri nodded. "Very. Tell Laura she doesn't have to cook tonight, that we will handle it." At Pepper's frown, Shuri smiled. "They've been doing their own cooking on alternating nights. It's Laura's night to cook."

"Oh!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pepper re-entered the common room to see that Steve was looking through a small notebook and frowning at it. She retook her seat and Lila climbed up to join her at Clint's urging. "Laura, you don't have to cook tonight. And... Steve?"

"Commander Johnson put Balto down in here." He glanced up at her. "And what is Miracle?"

Jill grinned. "Oh, we have that one! Cooper, do you like hockey?" Cooper nodded. "Then we'll be watching that after lunch, and Steve will get his answer. You'll love it, Steve."

"I will?"

"Let me put it this way: it's one of those awesome unification stories that just happens to be true."

Pepper frowned suddenly. "Where's Wanda?"

"She's got tutoring," Clint explained. "T'Challa's demand while he's teaching her physics is that she gets a proper well-rounded education."

"Oh. And are you okay with dogs?"

Laura nodded. "We had to leave Lucky with a friend." She glanced up at Lila with a fond smile. "And you miss him, right?"

"Miss him a lot," Lila said with a nod.

Pepper glanced at Bucky again, frowning. "It didn't strike me as odd until now, but... where'd the wacky pajama pants come from? Didn't he arrive here with basically the clothes on his back?"

"Cooper's idea," Jill said with a smile. "Go on, Cooper. Explain."

Cooper shrugged. "All I said was that he needed something fun, like those t-shirts that Mom sometimes wears with the cats and the dogs on them."

Steve nodded. "And it was a very good idea, Cooper. And Pepper? We got him some Penguins."

Pepper chuckled. "Well, good! She's here in spirit, if not in person!"

"Huh?" Cooper wondered.

"Becca has a Skiing Penguins scrub top," Steve explained with a grin. He frowned as Pepper stood up again, Lila staying in the chair. "Now where are you going?"

She smiled. "That one might be asleep, but the rest of you aren't, and Jill already got hers, so..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pepper entered the kitchen and found the King studying a pictures in a photo album at the kitchen island where she'd left the box. "See anything interesting?"

T'Challa nodded absently. "The Captain was very... small. And I've yet to see Barnes that happy and carefree. It's... odd."

"Days gone by?" Pepper suggested as she rooted in the box and pulled out a bag with his name on it. "Ah-hah! I did remember right, there's one here for you." She handed it to him and he frowned at her. "It was last minute, but well-meant."

He frowned at her for a moment before opening the bag and pulling out two cards in orange and green envelopes. He opened the green one first and could only stare at the sympathy card, signed by a bunch of people whose names and signatures he didn't recognize, then looked at Pepper. "I don't understand."

"The Barnes Family, specifically James's sister Rebecca, organized cards for everyone. That," she plucked it out of his hand and studied the signatures, then handed it back to him. "Those are the nurses on MedSurg at Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn."

"And you know that how, Miss Potts?"

"I've met a few of them," Pepper answered with a shrug. "Also, the card on the back says it's from the hospital gift shop."

T'Challa looked at the card again, read the inscription it had come with, and smiled. "Oh."

"I'm wondering how she explained it, though. 'Hi, can you sign a card for the King of Wakanda? Yes, I'm serious!'"

"You're trying to make me laugh."

"Is it working?"

He smiled and opened the other one, only to stare again. This one was another sympathy card, only... "Miss Potts?" He handed it to her, and she read the signatures, and Rebecca's note to him, re: his loss of his father.

Pepper smiled. "She did that for Tony, too." T'Challa frowned at her. "If there's something Rebecca understands, it's losing people. And the others who signed this? All family." She handed it back to him and he looked at it again.

"Thank you," T'Challa told her after a long, silent moment.

She nodded and then pulled four bags out, only to stare at the fourth. "Your Highness?" He glanced at her and she held out the bag. "Give this to Wanda for me? Clint said she had tutoring, so you'll probably see her first." T'Challa nodded and accepted it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Pepper returned again to the common room, Jill had finally set her laptop aside and was absently playing with Damian's hair while they watched the movie. Pepper smiled at that, and then handed a bag first to Steve, another to Sam, and the last to Clint who looked up at her funny while she lifted Lila up and sat down again. "Never underestimate a grandmother, Clint. She'll badger anyone she pleases if she wants to. And she must have really, really wanted to."

Clint smiled as he looked into the bag, then showed Laura. "No, I just wasn't expecting... all this."

Laura reached in and pulled out a card. "Can I open it?" At his nod, she did, and found a birthday card, a humorous one with a cat playing an accordion on the front. "Accordion To The Calendar, it's your birthday?" She opened it and they all jumped at the accordion music that issued forth. The inside said "squeeze all the fun out of it!" and was signed by... "Who is Mason?"

"Want!" Nathaniel yelled and grabbed at it, and Laura held it up so he couldn't take it out of her hands. "Mama! Want!"

"No, Sweetie. This was for Daddy."

Clint frowned and looked up at it, open, and read the signatures, as well as the note... "Mason is Rebecca's grand-nephew. The rest who signed that must be the detail team."

"Is that an accordion?" Bucky wondered, staring straight at them.

"Sure is!" She opened it again, and grinned at his bemused expression. "Awake now?"

"Bug!" Nathaniel said happily, and Laura quickly handed the card to Clint and caught her son before he could start running anywhere.

Bucky yawned, looked up at Steve, who had pulled a card of his own at random from his own bag and opened it. "The future is weird, Steve."

Steve chuckled. "You're the one who wanted to go, Buck. And... there's a disk in here labeled '4th of July In Absentia Birthday Party, Recorded for Steve, Fran, and Nicole.' And now this. Buck, you awake?"

"That, or I'm dreaming about accordions..." He frowned when Steve showed him a blurry picture of something hard to make out. "That's a weird-looking picture, Steve."

Steve smiled. "It's an ultrasound. Becca explained this, year before last, to me as sort of taking a picture with sound waves. Do you see them? There's two." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jill was staring at him, her hand still in Damian's hair. Damian himself was frowning.

"Two?" Bucky wondered, yawning again. Clint closed and opened the card, setting the goofy accordion sound off again, and Bucky focused on the images. "Oh. I see them... sort of. But... now I'm confused."

Steve continued to smile. "You see... James wanted you to be the first to know, aside from his parents, his wife Nicole's parents, Miriam, Jane, and Andrea. They haven't told Becca yet, and according to James, who is your great-grand nephew, by the way, Nicole stayed home from the party on the forth so they wouldn't have to spill the beans to Becca, and also to rest and stay out of the heat." He raised his head to look at Jill. "Is twenty-two weeks the second trimester?"

"Yes," Jill answered. "And she'd very definitely be showing, with twins."

"I have a grand-nephew named James... who is having twins?" Bucky frowned tiredly. "And wanted to tell me before Becca? What for? Why me?"

"Why not you?" Steve asked, and Bucky stared up at him blankly. "You're going to ask this later, when you're not so tired, and I'll say the same thing: you're loved. You may have missed a whole heck of a lot, but... this?" He held up the photo again. "Inclusion. Family, Buck. Yours." He watched at Bucky yawned again and fell off to sleep once more. "He took that rather well." He passed the ultrasound photo over to Sam, with a motion to give it to Jill. Sam squinted at it, smiled, then passed it to Damian, who passed it to his wife without actually looking at it.

"I could make the card play again," Clint suggested humorously. "That's the most coherent he's been."

"No," Jill said with a laugh as she studied the photo before passing it back to Damian. "Let him sleep. And... someone needs to tell James he can tell his grandmother now. Honestly." She blinked when Damian handed the laptop back up to her. "Oh, right. I'll do that."

To: StonyERDuo
From: PsychologyMom
CC: EngineerStudent, WeatherKid
Subject: uh-huh...

I'll make this short and sweet: He knows. Now tell Rebecca she's going to be a grandmother again. (Also... three weeks?!? Andi!)
And to Nicole from another mother who had multiples... I understand completely. Been there, done that.

To: PsychologyMom
From: StonyERDuo
CC: EngineerStudent, WeatherKid
Subject: re: Uh-huh...

He does? Awesome! Can't today. Fran's due any day (other reason they held off), and calling all the Hockey parents she knows today when I checked on her an hour ago, looking for a Missionary for some reason she couldn't explain, for her mom. (Hopefully, Aunt Jane will explain that at some point...)
And... duly noted. Sorry!
I love you, Mom. We never tell you that enough, do we?

To: StonyERDuo
From: WeatherKid
CC: EngineerStudent, PsychologyMom
Subject: re: Uh-huh...

Okay... what is going on, and why are you CCing me? And... um. Right. Love you, mom! (Who knows what?)
Weather down here at the bottom of the world... I miss NY in Summer. That's something I never thought I'd say...
Fran's looking for a... Hockey Missionary? And... if I'm reading this right... babies! Yay!
-Thomas, from McMurdo Research Base, land of snow and ice.

To: WeatherKid
From: EngineerStudent
CC: StonyERDuo, PsychologyMom
Subject: re: Uh-huh...

At least you're not having to read Mom's textbooks, Bro. And you're not missing much, weather-wise here. (And for all the complaining I do about the reading... I love you, Mom!)

To: StonyERDuo
From: PsychologyMom
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent
Subject: re: Uh-huh...

I love you three, too.
Martin? Knowledge is your friend. But then... you know that.
Thomas... it's winter in Antarctica. Of course it's snowy and icy! (Yes... babies! Very yay!) Right now... I sort of miss NY weather, too. We can't tell you who knows what, or why it was important.
Andi: Fran's doing what when she's nesting? No, I read it, I'm just not sure I believe it. Our love to Fran and Henry and the kids!

Damian glanced back at her as Jill set the laptop down again. "You were laughing. About?"

"Hockey missionaries, Thomas wants out of McMurdo, and Martin's still complaining about the reading, but he loves me."

"Ah."

"And Fran might be in labor." He stared at her. "You asked. Steve?"

"Yes?"

She nodded to Bucky, now mumbling in his sleep about dancing. "If you didn't know before... Fran is due any day. Maybe even today." He stared at her. "What? I just report these things, I lost track of time, and I've been out of regular contact since May. Jane doesn't regularly email me with updates, Fran's not in my email list for whatever reason, I've not logged into Facebook because it's hard to do from here, and it doesn't come up that often."

"Oh." Steve looked down at Bucky. "So we get to tell him that, too. When it happens. Probably today."

Pepper frowned. "Which one is Fran? I know a lot of them, but..."

Damian smiled. "Fran is Jane's oldest, Jane is and was Abiah's youngest, Abby was Hazel's second born. I think I have that right, anyway. Took forever to understand it, and Kristy explained the family about six different times before I did. With a chart."

Steve winced suddenly. "Yes, you've got it right. And... I have to tell him about Abiah."

"We have to tell him about a lot of things, Steve," Jill said with a yawn. "And it's good that James included him... boy, is that going to be confusing. As it is, we have to clarify which Robert we're talking about if both are present! Rob and Bob!"

Damian glanced back at her, noticed she was yawning again, and smiled when she leaned back and started snoring. "Finally. Only took two movies, some venting, chart notes, and the kids saying I love you."

Steve stared at her. "That's the first time I've seen her do that."

"You've never seen the Doctor Nap Attack before?"

"No. Nurse Cat Naps, sure, but... Sam, what's so funny?"

Sam grinned. "Just remembering something I saw before, related to doctors falling asleep while doing chart notes."

Damian opened up Jill's laptop with a grin while also noticing that it needed to be plugged in...

To: StonyERDuo
From: WesternStories
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent
Subject: Well...

Well done, the three of you! She finally relaxed enough to take a nap! (She needed it, trust me.)
And this is an odd question, but... Andi: Is Fran in labor? (And speaking of that: what's her email address? Jill doesn't have it in her address book on her laptop...)

To: WesternStories
From: StonyERDuo
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent, WisdomsPower
Subject: Re: Well...

She might be, or she's just really, really stir-crazy from being cooped up due to repeated pre-term labor. And something about giving permission to Aunt Jane to go three hours away today for an interview... which has yet to make sense, out of context, but if this entire situation made sense, I'd be rich.
Mom took a nap! Mom took a nap! Yay!!!!!!
Fixing the "Mom not having Fran's email on her laptop" thing! Fran! Talk to Dad! (For some reason, he's using her computer. This day is weird.)

To: WesternStories
From: WisdomsPower
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: Well...

Henry's not letting me out of bed, the kids are at the rink for bonus ice time, and I'm tired of looking at these same walls day after day. What more do you want me to say? Yes, I'm grumpy. Grr.
And we can't put it in context over email, Andi. I want to, but it's Mom's story to tell and very hush-hush. And... must make another phone call. Hmmm... **picks one at random from address book**
Also, Damian? What are you doing with Jill's laptop when you've got your own?

To: WisdomsPower
From: WesternStories
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: Well...

Ah, so the calling of Hockey Parents has a context related to Jane and is hush-hush over email. Gotcha. (That still makes no sense, Fran.)
As for why I'm using Jill's laptop... she took a nap and left it on. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
Can someone thank Kristy for sending Last of the Dogmen? Thank you.
And be as grumpy as you want, Fran. Bedrest is full of tedium. How did you end up on bed rest, anyway?

To: WesternStories
From: WisdomsPower
CC: WeatherKid, EngineerStudent, StonyERDuo
Subject: Re: Well...

In May, I was at Aunt Miriam's house for dinner when I went into pre-term labor, which they were able to stop because Aunt Becca recognized it for what it was and got me to care immediately, thank goodness. Having this baby at 28 or 29 weeks would have been bad. Gave Aunt Becca something else to focus on, too. And it gave Henry and I an idea. What was the idea? Aunt Becca is going to be the first to hear it, aside from Mom and Dad, who both loved it.
Thank Kristy? Will do.

Damian looked up from the laptop screen with a frown and glanced at the man sleeping on the couch, and Steve next to him. How many had been affected by Zemo's actions that had not been in the immediate circle? He was starting to lose count.

Chapter Text

Two Days Post the Battle of Sokovia...

It was late in the day, two days after nearly dying to save the world, after the world had nearly been destroyed again, when the Quinjet landed at the Tower in Manhattan and five very tired people disembarked. Steve watched as Pepper met Tony at the door, then turned to Natasha and Clint and Wanda. "I'm turning in."

Natasha waved him off, and Steve hurriedly brushed by Tony and Pepper on his way to the elevator without another word. All he wanted right now was peace and quiet and space... and out of the uniform.

Stepping off the elevator onto his floor, he set the shield down by the door, and then started taking the battlesuit off a piece at a time. He'd barely gotten his gloves off when he saw the message light blinking on his answering machine. Blinking, he moved to press the button and hear the message. The first was Rebecca, checking on him, and the second made his jaw drop open in shock.

It was Peggy, thanking him for a wonderful evening at the Stork Club... for dancing. Her voice was reverent, dream-like, as if she'd gotten lost in the fog of memory again. A good memory... that never happened.

He stands there for a long time, staring at the answering machine and aching to call her, to talk to her. To tell her that it did happen, after a fashion, after all. To tell her that in the middle of something bad, Wanda accidentally gave them both something good and unexpected, even if it hurt.

He never does ask Wanda how it was possible.

Six Months Before The Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

Ordinarily, she'd have been spending Black Friday either on MedSurg at Maimonides, or at home behind closed doors, avoiding the shopping crowds, Rebecca reflected as she watched Natasha land the Quinjet from the co-pilot's chair, and listened as Chase enthused about Thanksgiving Dinner in Stony Brook while Michael and Jenny occasionally added a thing or two and Steve asked questions. She glanced back, wondering why Ruth had said nothing in an hour, and saw that she was sitting in her seat, arms folded, clearly not happy about being here. "Natasha?"

"Hmm?"

"We have an unhappy teen on our hands."

Natasha smiled as she completed landing procedures, then spun and looked. "Ah. Ruth, you'll love it here."

"I wanted to go shopping with Chris," Ruth complained. "It's like the thing to do on Black Friday!"

"Oh, come on," Chase interjected with a smirk. "You can go shopping anytime! How often do we get to go anywhere by Quinjet? This is awesome!" She glared at him.

Natasha chuckled as she lowered the boarding ramp. "What he said, Ruth."

"And it's a wasteful thing, this insistence on going shopping for things you don't need," Rebecca intoned. "On a particular day, just because there are sales."

Ruth looked at Steve. "But it's the start of the Christmas Season! It's tradition!"

"One we're breaking this year," Jenny told her with a frown. "To visit friends."

"Mom!"

"And trying to plead to Steve will get you nowhere, as he's a Nonagenarian like your great-grandmother."

Steve snorted in laughter. "Thanks."

A golden retriever came tearing up the boarding ramp and made a beeline for Natasha, who laughed and bent down to hug him. "Lucky!"

"Sorry about that," Clint said from the boarding ramp. "And is this all of you? Where's Miriam? And why didn't Pepper come?"

"Miriam had transcription to do," Rebecca told him. "And Dan and Mason begged off, saying they wanted guy time, whatever that means... probably a football game or two with the detail team. And Pepper had business things to do, but wanted to come."

"Ah."

"Could I have stayed with them?" Ruth asked plaintively.

"No," Michael said, glaring at her mildly. "Now stop complaining, would you? It's rude." He watched as Lucky approached and sniffed at her, and she let him smell her hand, and then pet him on the head. "And see? You've made a friend already."

Clint waited while everyone unbuckled, then led them all down out of the Quinjet, to where Cooper and Lila were waiting impatiently. "Lila and Cooper, this is part of Steve's family..."

"Because if all of us had come, the Quinjet would have been overloaded," Michael said humorously, and Rebecca laughed. "Ah-hah! She laughs!"

"Troublemaker."

"Ah, you love me anyway."

Lila frowned up at Rebecca, then looked at Steve. "Is she your grandma?"

Steve blinked in surprise. "No, she's... what is it, Becca? Adoptive younger sister?"

"Close enough," Rebecca admitted with a smile and held out her hand, which Lila took. "I'm actually younger than him, little one. It's odd and complicated."

"Oh."

Rebecca pulled Chase closer with her other hand. "And this one and the grumpy one over there are my great-grand children. This is Chase."

Chase smiled at Lila, nodded to Cooper. "Hello."

"Is everyone going to just hang out, out here in the cool air?" Laura asked as she joined them, a sleeping five month old strapped to her chest in a gray baby wrap. "Because it's more fun in the house. Warm, too."

"We were just going to break this up," Clint told her. "Come on everyone! To the house!"

Natasha just barely remembered to close the boarding ramp again behind them.

Hours post the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

In borrowed clothes, Peter Parker stared out of the window at unfamiliar standalone houses and row houses, almost letting himself forget the silent woman also seated in the back seat of the car with him. The ache of his broken ribs had faded to a dull throb over an hour ago, now just a reminder of the awesomeness of the day. Had he really gotten to take down a giant with his webs? It had been awesome!

"Here, Miss Potts?" The driver, whose name he'd not caught, asked as he stopped the car in front of a modest house.

"Yes, Happy," she told him. "Thank you."

Peter blinked in surprise. The man's name was Happy? What kind of name was that? "Where are we?"

"Brooklyn," Miss Potts answered as she opened her door. "Come on."

"But I have to get home," Peter whined, and stopped when she glared at him mildly.

"You need medical attention first, Mister Parker, and I can't take you to a hospital without your aunt being informed."

Peter stared at her. "I'm fine."

She sighed. "And I'll believe it when a medical professional tells me that you are. Come. On."

"I'd listen to her, Kid," Happy called back to him. "And anyway, you'll like Mrs. Proctor."

"Who?" Happy nodded to the house as he also got out of the car, and Peter rolled his eyes long-sufferingly, but followed anyway.

At the door, they were met by a man who appeared older than Mr. Stark, who frowned at him before looking at Miss Potts. "What happened to the kid? Almost looks like he went three rounds with a Grizzly bear."

"Can we come in, Daniel?"

Daniel looked beyond them, up and down the street, and then opened the door wider. "Sure. I can't guarantee you'll not be mobbed by reporters if more show up, wanting interviews, though."

"That bad?"

"Imagine Rebecca yelling no comment in Romanian and slamming the door in their faces," Daniel mused as he shut the door behind them, and then led them into the living room where an elderly woman was reading the newspaper with a frown. "Bad enough. So... what brings you to Brooklyn, today?"

Miss Potts gestured to Peter, who wasn't sure if he should sit down or just run away. "This one needs an exam and I couldn't take him to a hospital. And you're not wrong... he sort of did go a round with a Grizzly. A really tall Grizzly."

The elderly woman looked up from the newspaper, her frown deepening with almost clinical precision that made Peter uneasy. "Oh?"

"And if I understand correctly, he has a healing factor like Steve's," Miss Potts explained further as she sat down on the couch. "Which is the other reason I couldn't take him to a hospital. Plus, you're the expert."

"Get my kit, Dan," the woman ordered as she neatly folded the newspaper, set it aside, and stood up. Until right that moment, the fact that she was wearing a very cute blue scrub top with paw prints on it had escaped his notice... and for some reason he couldn't fathom, the cuteness didn't settle his nerves. "And you, kid. Sit down and calm down, right now."

Peter obliged her. "I, uh..."

She studied him from three different angles without touching him, then shook her head and held out her hand. "I'm Rebecca. You?"

Slowly, he shook her hand. "Peter."

"And how did you get that shiner?"

"Someone hit me." At her glare, he sighed. "I was in a fight... with Captain America. Shield to the face."

Rebecca frowned again. Daniel returned momentarily with a small bag and she accepted it from him with a roll of her eyes. "Is Miriam still trying to make heads or tails of that transcription tape?"

Daniel smiled. "She was muttering about pathologists with thick accents who do their notes while eating, so... yes?"

"Then we'll tell her later," Rebecca said as she unzipped the bag and pulled out a stethoscope and then a blood pressure cuff. Then she looked at him again. "Any other injuries?"

"No," Peter tried to say, and winced when Miss Potts glared at him. "All right, sorry! My ribs."

"Any trouble breathing?"

"No."

"Pain on the scale of one to ten?"

"Three?"

"Three, you notice it, or three it's really distracting?"

Peter frowned. "It was really hard to move for a while, and now it's a dull throb. Why?"

"Because my brother's best friend used to get into fights and not tell us he was in pain," Rebecca explained. "His three was an all the time low throb of feeling bad, before. Mind you, that was before we started using the pain scale to describe pain like we do now... and he told me that when I started explaining new medical things to him."

"Huh?"

Daniel chuckled. "Becca, you're confusing him."

"Well, he let Steve give him a black eye. He deserves to be confused." Rebecca focused on him again, tilted her head. "May I take your vitals, Peter?" At his nod, she proceeded to strap the BP Cuff on his arm, and do just that. Then she took his pulse. "Normal. Good. Mind telling me what you were doing in Germany?"

"I was back up."

Rebecca frowned at him again as she removed the cuff from his arm and set it aside. "Back up. For what?"

"For Mr. Stark, to help... why are you glaring at me?"

Rebecca blinked and shook her head. "Does your guardian know where you are? Or were?"

"My aunt? No. She would flip if she knew."

She studied him for a long moment. "Lift your shirt so I can see?" He did, and she deftly examined his side, frowning at the bruising. "I can see what you mean, Pepper. It's already well on it's way to being healed. Another couple hours... you can put your shirt back down, Peter. I'm done."

He did and she moved away again. "What makes you an expert on healing like mine?"

Rebecca returned to her chair and sat down. "Wouldn't say expert. I know a lot about it, because of Steve."

"Steve... you mean Captain America?"

"The very same." She pursed her lips, then sighed. "And I am going to ask, because you were there, and it's been a maddening couple of days. How did he look?"

"Cap? Fine. Why?"

She paused, studying him. "And the other one?"

Peter frowned at her. "Other one?"

Pepper sighed. "Rebecca, he's a little young to realize whom you're asking about, and you didn't tell him to start with. From what I've been able to parcel out so far, he protected Sam from this one doing something idiotic and dangerous when Sam was already restrained."

Now he understood, or thought he did. "The long haired emo dude with the awesome metal arm?"

Rebecca looked at Pepper. "What was the dangerous idiotic thing?"

"He swung feet first at Sam with enough force to break the glass behind him, feet aimed at his chest."

"Oh." Rebecca turned her attention back to Peter, still frowning. "And yes... him. And don't ever swing at someone like that again, or I'll be giving you a lesson in the anatomy of the chest!"

"Huh?"

She motioned to his own chest. "Broken ribs hurt. They can puncture lungs. Blunt force trauma? Bad. If you are going to use your talents to go out and do things, then be smart about it. Or it'll be me telling your aunt, and she can ground you herself. Understood?"

He'd been right, initially, to be wary of this elderly woman. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now as to the other thing..." She pulled a picture in a picture frame off the end table by the couch. "Here."

He accepted it without looking at it, confused as to why she would hand him a picture. Then she turned her attention to Miss Potts, frowned at her, and pointed to a doorway. Miss Potts blinked, nodded, and went into the kitchen, with the elderly lady following her. Peter frowned as Happy sat down next to him. "She's scary."

"She's a nurse," Happy told him with a smirk. "And a mother and grandmother. I'd be worried if she weren't."

Peter looked down at the picture in his hands, to find a picture of two younger men... one of whom startled him at how familiar he was, though his hair was short, his clothes weren't black, and he was clean-shaven. "Oh."

"What is all the commotion out here?" someone asked, and Peter looked up to see an older woman with brown hair that was peppered with silver. "And really, I'm half-way to emailing that pathologist to tell her that she needs to either stop doing her recording during lunch, or speak in her native tongue, because it's easier to understand." She stared at him, then looked at Daniel. "What did I miss?"

"Pepper's here," Daniel told her, motioning to the kitchen doorway.

Peter watched as she disappeared into the kitchen, then looked at Daniel. "Who is that?"

"Miriam," Daniel told her with a smile. "And if you decide to become a doctor when you're older, don't ever do your transcription recording while eating lunch. A medical transcriptionist will thank you."

"I like chemistry," Peter volunteered. "And science."

Daniel continued to smile. "Then why were you in Germany on a school day?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Miriam entered the kitchen and paused at seeing Pepper with her head in her hands while Rebecca sat near her patiently. "Oh."

"How goes the transcription?" Pepper asked, not looking up.

"Could be worse," Miriam told her as she went and filled three glasses with water, then brought them to the table. "And you're not fine, so don't even try saying you are."

"Furthest thing from my mind," Pepper said as she took the glass of water and stared into it. "I was as close as a retreat in Switzerland and no one called me, Miriam. I didn't even know about Vienna or Berlin until yesterday evening, when it was too late to do anything! And then today... I have no idea what's going on, save for what I was able to get out of the authorities in Leipzig. I haven't even reviewed Tony's Voice Record Log from Friday yet, because I had to get that kid home safely, and couldn't do that in front of him."

"Switzerland?" Rebecca wondered, questions in her tone.

Pepper nodded. "I tried planning a weekend in Fiji, realized I was checking for terrorism and crime in Fiji, and had to take a break away from Tony. I even cancelled on him for that MIT presentation earlier this week, because I couldn't stop looking for the next attack."

Miriam nodded. "Stress is a real thing. If you need time, you take it."

Pepper took a deep breath and let it out. "Thank you."

"Miriam?" Rebecca asked after a minute of silence. "If that young man's metabolism works like Steve's does, he's probably ravenous about now. Plus, he'll probably heal faster if he has the fuel to do it with."

Miriam smiled. "I was just about to suggest that. Sandwich or fruit?"

"Both. High-calorie sandwich."

Pepper drank her water and watched as Miriam set about making two sandwiches, handed one to her, and then left the kitchen with the second after cutting up an apple, and grabbing cookies from the cookie jar and a bag of chips from the cupboard. "I'm not hungry."

"Humor us," Rebecca told her. "And it's been a bad week. If I see another reporter, I'm pretending I actually don't speak any English. At least Fran's okay, after all the stress..."

"Huh?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Not your concern, right now. Eat."

"Rhodes is being flown to Columbia tomorrow."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes. Eat."

She did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the living room, they watched as Peter ate like the teenage boy he was, and then Miriam turned to Happy. "Think you could take him home? Pepper needs a little time."

Happy stood up, went into the kitchen for a minute or so while Miriam accepted the plate and the empty chip bag back from Peter, and nodded. "Let's go, kid."

"However," Daniel said as Peter got to his feet. "Be aware that one of us might drop by to check on you."

Peter stared at him. "Check on me? Why?"

"Because, however it happened, you ended up in the middle of a fight that didn't actually concern you, in a foreign country, without the knowledge of your parent and/or guardian, and were injured badly enough for Pepper to bring you to us." Here Daniel handed him a pad of paper and a pen. "Address, please, and phone number. Actual phone number and address." Peter winced and wrote the information down, and then Daniel handed him three business cards.

"What are these?"

"Our contact information," Daniel explained, smiling slightly at his confusion, then looked down at the notepad that Peter had handed back to him. "Queens? Really?"

Now Peter smiled. "Really. It's the best!"

Daniel chuckled. "Oh, go on. And we'll agree to disagree."

Miriam led them to the door, watched as they got into the car and drove off, then closed it and turned back to him. "Good touch."

"She really that stressed out?"

Miriam nodded. "She was as close as a retreat in Switzerland and didn't know until last night that anything was amiss." Daniel winced. "And was stressed out before that."

Daniel crossed the room and joined her, taking her in his arms as they both leaned against the door. They stood there for a while, taking solace in each other.

Six Weeks Post the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

"This feels really dishonest, Jane."

Jane sighed and turned to look at Chase, Mike's youngest son, as they sat down on a bench in a part of Queens neither had been to before. "And?"

"And nothing," the fourteen year old grumbled. "I'll do it, pretend I had a fight with someone I've never met, defending Uncle Steve's honor. I just..."

"I know," Jane said with a smile as she glanced back at where Happy was waiting in the car. She'd wanted to bring one of the detail guys, but none of them knew what the kid in question looked like, except Rebecca, Dan, and Miriam, and they'd been unable to come. Happy did, so here he was... even if he was waiting in the car. "It's underhanded and we are going to lie." She frowned when Happy started pointing, and traced where he was pointing to, to see a teenage boy walking along, earbuds in his ears, wearing a backpack. "And... action. Mr. Parker?" Getting up, she quickly moved to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Mr. Parker?"

Peter stopped, stared at her, and pulled his earbuds out. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

"An annoying Paralegal!" Chase called from the bench with a grin.

Jane rolled her eyes long-sufferingly, then smiled at him. "My name is Jane Talbot. You met my Great Aunt Rebecca six weeks ago... and I need to take your statement, regarding what happened in Leipzig. Mr. Hogan is over there, keeping watch, and Big Mouth is here as a cover story, just in case."

"Cover story?" Peter asked as he looked in the direction she pointed in, saw Happy, and waved hello.

"Yes. What did you tell your Aunt about how you ended up with that black eye?"

Turning back, Peter frowned at her as she led him back to the bench. "That I got into a fight with a guy named Steve from Brooklyn. It's not a lie."

"No," Chase said as he sized him up, then held out a hand. "Chase Steven Proctor. Happy to meet ya!"

Peter stared at him, startled, then shook his hand. "Peter. And it's good to meet you, too. And... Steven? After...?"

Chase nodded as Jane pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Yep! It lends credence to our having gotten into a fight in Uncle Steve's honor, seeing as I'm named for him. I won't tell anyone to the contrary if you don't."

Jane chuckled. "Chase, stop proving your father is a lawyer and made you read a basic law book and a dictionary."

Chase grinned at her. "Aren't you proud that I thought of a probable cause for the fist fight that didn't actually happen?"

"Yes, now shush." She was starting to wish she'd been able to bring Stephanie instead, even if that meant explaining how a thirty-eight year old woman from Great Neck would have slugged it out with a teenager... Jane smirked that that thought as she looked at Peter. "Future possible lawyer, this one. Now then: what can you tell me about what and whom you saw and interacted with at the airport?" At Peter's silence, she sighed. "Look, I need your statement, and this isn't going to go anywhere other than directly to Chase's father, Rebecca's grandson Michael, if we don't need it for our burden of proof, because we have a lot already. I'm covering all the bases, Mr. Parker, in regard to my Great Uncle and his involvement in this mess we've found ourselves in."

"This is about Sergeant Barnes?"

"It is. What can you tell me about what you saw of him?"

Peter shrugged. "Not much, because I didn't really interact with him, other than knocking Falcon down and him trying to punch me in reaction with that awesome metal arm of his. I even told him it was, and he stared at me."

Jane nodded, and put a hand on Chase's arm before he could speak like he clearly wanted to. "And?"

Peter winced. "And then there's the thing that Miss Potts told Rebecca, about getting caught up in the moment, and swinging at someone so hard that I broke the glass behind him. Sergeant Barnes ran in so fast that I almost didn't see him, and I hit his arm and shoulder instead of actually making contact with Mr. Wilson. I didn't interact with either after that, because Mr. Wilson threw me out of a window. Miss Potts called it a Red Wing?"

Jane wrote all of that down, nodded, and then blinked when Chase poked at her arm. "What?"

"Incoming," Chase told her, and she blinked at his sudden change in body language to sullen teenager before turning to find a woman with dark hair approaching them and quickly put the notepad in her purse.

"Hello," Jane called with a smile.

"Hi, Aunt May," Peter greeted, and Jane was suddenly glad Chase had been paying attention to Happy, because she definitely hadn't been.

May Parker put her hands on her hips, keen eyes studying the picture they must have made. "New friends, Peter?"

Jane stood up and approached her with a hand held out. "Hi, I'm Jane. We were checking up on Peter, here, and I was making these two clear the air after their fight a while back when Steven was in Queens on a field trip."

If May was surprised by that, she didn't show it as she looked at Chase, who was looking back at her with folded arms and surliness. "Oh. You came all the way to Queens just to check on my nephew?"

"We did."

"Dad gave me a lecture about getting into fights," Chase mumbled. "'Men should resolve their differences with words, Steven, not fisticuffs!'"

May shook Jane's hand with a smile. "Well, he's right, young man. And it's good to meet you both."

Jane returned her smile, but it was more at being amused by her young cousin's acting than she was by May agreeing with him. "This is going to sound odd, but can we take a picture with you two? And could you sign a card or two? A family member's birthday is in two weeks, and another one is ill and needs all the encouragement he can get, even from people he doesn't know."

Behind them, Peter blinked in surprise and leaned closer to Chase. "What?"

"Long story," Chase whispered back. "Grandma Becca started this whole thing with cards. No idea why, exactly..."

The women chatted for half an hour, bonding over the trials of raising teenagers. Eventually, a picture was taken by Happy pretending to be a hapless passerby, and two cards were signed.

Now...

Lunch was so far a quiet affair. Jill had woken up from her nap in better spirits and was currently making faces at Nathaniel with Laura, while Cooper was mulling something over as he ate his sandwich. "What happened with an elevator shaft and why would there be bad flashbacks?"

Silence descended and Steve sighed. "That's a bit of a story, Cooper. And I'm glad Buck is still out, too."

"Steve," Jill said slowly. "There is such a thing as too much protection."

"Pancakes," he reminded her. "And no there isn't, not about this."

"Pancakes?" Cooper asked, and Jill turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, a questioning expression on her face. "There was something bad about pancakes?"

"But pancakes are good!" Lila chimed in.

Jill sighed. "Steve, you mentioned it, so you get to explain. Carefully."

"Why me?"

"Why not you? It was you that fell down an elevator shaft, wasn't it?" Nathaniel threw a Cheerio at her, laughed, and she handed it back to him. "Yes, Nate! We're all being silly today."

Steve looked at Laura, who nodded her ascent, then Clint, who nodded to Cooper with a serious expression. "Right. Bad things happened in Berlin, Cooper. More specifically, there was a bad man that managed to get into Bucky's cell under false pretenses."

"Bad man?" Lila asked. "How'd he do that?"

"We don't know," Sam admitted. "But he did. And then the power went out while he was in there. Did Nat ever explain about trigger words, Clint? With the kids?"

Clint frowned at that. "Only vaguely."

"Learning to conquer them!" Cooper said suddenly. "I think? It didn't make much sense."

Jill paused. "That's one way to defang them, sure. Long process, though. Hard, if not harder, than what we've been doing. And thank you, Cooper, for reminding me that I need to have a long talk with Natasha."

Steve smiled, then looked at Cooper again. "When the power went out, the monitors went down, and... Bucky got triggered by the bad man. Sam and I went down there to check things out, because we'd pieced things together with Sharon, only it was too little, too late. I ended up at the bottom of the shaft, and..."

"Then the bad man got away," Sam finished. He looked to find T'Challa standing in the doorway, listening.

"As to the pancakes being a problem," Steve continued. "Like Jill keeps saying: anything and everything can be a trigger. Yesterday, it was a food item with deeply personal connections for Bucky. Both our Ma's made good pancakes, and while he was in enemy hands, someone else also made him pancakes. Badly."

"Oh." Cooper frowned at his sandwich. "Shouldn't we be waking him for lunch, then?"

"No," T'Challa said, startling everyone but Sam by his presence. "Fujo's watching over him right now, and when I checked on them, he looked very firmly asleep."

"And we're surprising him later with pizza," Pepper said, causing Jill to look at her funny. "What?"

"Oh, it'll be a surprise, all right. Steve? When did you first have pizza?"

Steve blinked, startled at the question. "On tour in Italy." Pepper frowned at him, and he shrugged. "Next time I had it was with Becca, Miriam, and Dan in Brooklyn."

Pepper turned to look at Jill. "I don't understand."

"I did a lot of research," Jill admitted as Laura made funny faces at her youngest son and got him to eat more of his lunch. "And Rebecca explained a lot of things. Pizza didn't become common in the United States until after the Second World War, when returning veterans who had served in Italy returned with a hankering for it."

Pepper stared at her. "Oh. So..."

"So it's a good memory," Jill told her. "And there are never enough of those."

Sam paused. "So when you say the food is a lot better, you mean it."

Steve nodded. "I do. Ma used to tell stories about her grandparents making Stone Soup, during the Potato Famine, and... food is just plain better now. Really."

"The wonderful, wonderful soup stone," Jill sang, and shrugged when Steve stared at her in confusion. "That is where they'd know of the Irish Potato Famine, if they'd heard of it." She looked at T'Challa, who was frowning at her. "You wouldn't happen to have any Bobby Bare, would you? Lullabies, Legends, and Lies?"

T'Challa shook his head. "No, but I could probably find a copy, Dr. Mack."

"It's immortalized in a song somewhere?" Steve wondered.

"Along with a Voodoo Queen, Paul Bunyan, and a Sure-Hit Song Writer's Pen," Damian told him with a grin. "Among other things. Shel Silverstein was the man."

"Who?"

"Oh no," Clint said, seriously. "This won't do. Not at all. You don't know where the sidewalk ends!"

Steve looked at Pepper, who had to hide her smile behind her sandwich. "Do I want to know?"

"Yes," Laura said. "You're reading to the kids tonight. We're up to Where The Sidewalk Ends this week. Clint, really."

"If you can't joke about these things, what fun is it?"

Laura laughed. "Good point." She glanced at Lila, to find her hand in the air. "Yes, Lila?"

"Dr. Mack? Isn't she Dr. Pentel?"

Damian grinned. "There's a rule when there's two of us on site, Lila. I'm Dr. Pentel, and she's Dr. Mackenzie. Prevents confusion. Usually."

"Oh!"

Fujo appeared in the doorway, and T'Challa turned to look at her. "Sleepwalking to the bathroom. Slowly."

T'Challa backed out of the kitchen to look, then chuckled. "Well, now. Let's go follow him."

"Want me to come?" Sam asked. T'Challa shook his head, and Sam watched them go. "Guess not." Steve moved to get up, and Sam glared at him. "Stay."

"But..."

"If they think they can handle it, then you are going to sit your caboose back down and relax," Sam told him with a glare. "Worst that could happen is another kid-inspired flashback, and they're in here with us."

"Bug?" Nathaniel asked, looking around at all of them, as if realizing they were short a person.

Steve sighed and sat back down. "Okay." Then he saw the photo albums on the kitchen island, and got up instead to look at those. He flipped through the first one for a minute or so before figuring out how to pull a page carefully out of it, then brought the page over to the table to show Pepper. "Here. Wasn't sure if there was one, but there is."

Pepper accepted the page with a frown, studying the images of a small boy, not too dissimilar from Nathaniel, being held by various family members... including a smiling James Barnes. "Is this Amos?"

"At two years old," Steve affirmed, emotion in his voice, and Pepper glanced up at him. "And... hang on." He went back to the kitchen island and rummaged through another of the albums, before nodding to himself and taking that page out and bringing it over. "And so is this." On that page was a large picture of an older man, a small girl, and a woman, seated together on a couch in what appeared to be their Sunday best. "The child is Miriam, the woman is Abiah, Amos's sister."

Pepper froze, staring from one picture to the other. "Oh. Wait a minute-"

"Amos is Miriam's father," Jill explained, interrupting her. "If you didn't know that before."

"I didn't," Pepper said, and passed the pages to Sam. "This is going to be hard, explaining to him, isn't it?"

"A little," Steve mused as he sat back down. "Jill's got a slide show that Mason made, but it was the wrong place to start him off in, like she said when she told us she had it."

"Start somewhere familiar," Damian said with a nod. "Then work forward, through the trauma."

Steve took a bite of his second sandwich, chewed, then swallowed. "And until this morning, he'd not mentioned Amos at all." Sam passed the pages to Cooper, who frowned at the pictures before passing them to Lila. Lila passed the pages to her father, and Clint smiled at the familiarity of family moments caught candidly.

Clint showed them to Laura, who returned his smile, and then Clint got up and put the pages back into the appropriate albums. He turned a few pages in the first one, stopped on a page, and looked up at Steve with discerning eyes. Steve looked back at him with a wry expression on his face, and Clint shrugged as he rejoined them at the table. "So it's progress."

"It is," Steve said, then took another bite of his sandwich.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Natasha arrived in Oymyakon and found the local clinic, it was just after 6PM local time, still light out, and on the chilly side. Bundled up in a warm jacket, she entered the clinic to find the local doctor muttering to himself in Yakut while writing in a patient chart. "Um... hello?"

He glanced up at her, frowned, and returned to his charting. He ignored her for another minute before closing the chart. ["Hello."]

"Pepper sent me."

The man blinked up at her, at her clothes... "You be?"

Natasha smiled and held out her hand. "Natasha. You?"

He returned the handshake. "Elley. Here to pick up?"

Natasha nodded. "Something about dog treats?"

Elley chuckled. "They be hungry on flight. Have had shots, but are curious. This way." He led her to a side room where three juvenile pups were playing and let her watch. "Three calmest from recent litter. Pepper asked for two, but three seem better. What think?"

Natasha smiled. "I think it's an interesting idea. Did she say why?"

"Service dog."

"Oh. Good idea. Can I...?" She motioned to the pups who were all looking at her now, curiously.

Elley smiled, opened the bottom half the divider door, and they promptly all ran for the two of them, yipping and barking. Natasha bent down to pet them, and got many doggie kisses.

Natasha looked up at Elley, who was smiling widely at her. "Did Pepper actually ask for three, or...?"

"Asked for two, saw man in bathrobe in call. Question for you, on what situation is. Also... dogs good judge of person. They like you."

Natasha frowned at him. Had he really just tested her with dogs? "They like me?"

"You not like that Colonel."

She stared at him for a moment. "Oh. So you... you're the nephew?"

Elley nodded. "Uncle didn't like them, either. Could see in face."

"Would Russian be easier for you? We don't have to use English."

Elley shook his head. "Want to. Like Stark keeps saying: Practice good. And learned English in case saw again. Michil speaks it better, but..."

Natasha scratched behind the ears of one of the pups while a second nuzzled her, and the third sniffed at her. "Was the man in the bathrobe blonde?" Elley frowned at her. "Yellow hair, but dark?"

Elley nodded. "Didn't say anything, seemed... sad. A little. Right word?"

Natasha smiled. "Yes. That's the right word. And that was Steve. He's homesick, and the situation is complicated, with Barnes. And if he doesn't want a dog, I'll take the third one myself."

"Homesick?"

Natasha nodded and looked around the clinic, and that's when she spotted the StarkPad, plugged in on his desk. She pulled out her cellphone, shot off a text, and waited. Elley jumped when the pad rang at them, and he went to answer it.

"Hello Pepper," Elley said into the pad in confusion, then he looked at her with a frown. "Uh..."

"Ask her," Natasha prompted with a smile. "Or better yet, give her here and I'll ask." He unplugged the pad and handed to her, and she was surprised to find Lila also looking back at her with a grin. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Hi Auntie Nat!" Lila enthused, then frowned. "And... oops. Too loud. Sorry!"

"It's okay, Lila," Steve's voice told her. "He's alert now, kind of. Come on, Buck. Sit up, watch the sports movie." Grumbling was heard, and Steve laughed. "Or not..."

"Sports movie?" Natasha wondered.

Pepper grinned. "We're watching Miracle. What was the question?"

"Oh right." She angled the tablet so Pepper and Lila could see the pups, then re-angled correctly. "Why'd you ask for two?"

"One is for Tony," Pepper answered. "Why?"

"Go out into the hallway," Natasha requested. Pepper frowned at her, but did as requested, then nodded at her to continue. "Elley saw Steve when you called earlier, thinks he also needs a dog. Right now? I'm inclined to agree, because he's not wrong. What do you think?"

Pepper bit her lip in thought. "He's... raw, I guess is the word. Wants to talk to Rebecca, definitely. Jill has an interesting therapy going on, related to art and what she said was visualizing and giving him tools that he didn't get before, after Project Rebirth, whatever that actually means. He's definitely been more open than I've ever seen him with anyone that isn't Rebecca. And Laura did say that they left their dog with a friend in the States, so even if Steve doesn't want a dog... bring all three."

"I agree," Clint's voice said, startling her. "Sorry."

Pepper smiled. "Don't be. Fujo, why didn't you say anything?"

"Book is good," a woman's accented voice answered. "And we're not under attack."

"Fujo?" Elley asked, and Pepper angled the tablet to show a woman seated on a chair in a large hallway, reading a book. She waved at him with a grin. "Oh."

"Can I see the dogs?" Fujo asked, Nat showed her, and one of them yipped at the tablet. "Thank you, Agent Romanoff!"

Natasha smiled and pet a random head. "Clint, what do you think? The kids miss Lucky that much?"

"I think they do, yes," Clint said as Pepper turned the tablet back around. "I'd ask you to go get him, but that increases risk here. He's fine where he is. Who is the guy in the background, looking up at us?"

"This is Elley. Wave to Clint, Elley." Natasha yawned, and fought not to show it outwardly. "And I'm signing off now."

"Nat?"

"Yes?"

"Fly safe."

"Yes, Clint. Now stop acting like a Dad."

"No."

Pepper laughed. "Oh, I missed this! I didn't even know I was missing it! So much!" At Elley's distant questioning expression, she shrugged. "It's been a bit since I've seen them like this, even over the phone."

"Oh," Elley said with a smile.

"And don't tell Tony about the dogs, when he calls, Elley. I want to surprise him."

Elley nodded. "Won't tell, but will teach him commands in Yakut."

"You do that. He needs the practice himself."

They hung up, and Natasha handed the tablet back to him. He studied her. "Saw that yawn. Stay, take a nap."

"But..."

"All of you this stubborn about rest? Stark kept arguing, too."

"He did?"

"Much. Wanted out, didn't want to sleep."

She had the feeling there was more to that story, but decided to listen to the concerned man and take a nap.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve watched as Pepper and Clint came back into the Common Room, frowned at them. "Is something wrong?"

Pepper made Lila scooch over, smiled as she sat down. "No, Natasha just needed to ask something, and Lila already woke James once. If that yawn of hers was anything to go by, we'll probably be seeing her sometime tomorrow instead of tonight."

"You picked up on that, too?" Clint asked as he reclaimed his spot on the floor.

"I'm awake," Bucky complained as he sat up, then leaned into Steve. "I just don't want to be. What is this thing?"

"Olympics history," Pepper supplied. "And yes, Clint, I did."

"Olympics history? With hockey?"

Jill grinned. "As I told Steve before lunch: it's one of those unification stories that just happens to be true."

"Oh." They watched for several minutes, then Bucky frowned and craned his neck to look at Steve. "Did I imagine you and a very out of focus weird picture?"

"No. Where'd that get to, Jill?" Damian passed it back to Sam, who passed it to Bucky... who stared at the ultrasound in wonder. "See 'em?"

"Yeah. Neat, that they can see inside now like this. What's the thing look like that took the picture?"

"We'll show you that later," Steve told him with a smile. "Movie first."

Bucky was very pleasantly surprised by the ending of the movie.

Chapter Text

Six Months Before the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

She heard the noise of people as she followed Steve into the Barton's house, with an arm around Chase's shoulders, and then froze in her tracks just inside the threshold that Jenny nearly plowed into her. Blinking, Rebecca took in the sight of Kathryn supervising a board game at the table, where nine kids, aged between seven and fourteen years sat, gleefully enjoying a round or two of Monopoly. "Steve?"

Steve turned and smiled at her. "So... good surprise? Bad surprise?"

"Get on over here, Mom," Kathryn ordered, in her best stern-mother voice, and Rebecca laughed. "Play with us!"

She turned to Laura, who was smiling back at her. "Are we that close to Shelbyville?"

"Twenty, thirty miles," Laura admitted, grinning as Cooper and Lila rejoined the game, and dragged both Ruth and Chase into it. "And since it's a week for family..." She shrugged, and blinked down at her son as moved against her.

Steve watched as Rebecca joined them, and Kathryn detangled herself from helping one of the seven-year-olds count the pretend money long enough to give her mother a long hug. He glanced at Michael, who had come to a stop beside him. "It was worth that hour Miriam spent on the phone, arranging this with Kate."

"It was," Michael said in agreement as Jenny leaned into him and he put his arm around her. "Mr. Barton? Wonderfully done with the acting."

Clint chuckled, and glanced back at Natasha. "Learned from the best."

"We'll have to do this again," Steve said after a minute of watching. "For Bucky, when we find him."

"Steve," Jenny interjected before anyone else could say anything. "If and when that time comes, and it will, I think we'll actually be getting everyone to fly or drive home to Brooklyn..." He turned to stare at her, and she smiled. "What? Miriam and I have spent time talking about it, as a surprise for Rebecca. It's been ages since we were all together, and not everyone makes it home as often as they'd like. You and Sam concentrate on finding him, we'll plan the party."

"Oh." Someone pulled on his pantleg and Steve looked down to find one of the younger girls looking up at him with a grin that was missing a tooth. "Hello."

"Grandma says you need to come help, Mister Captain!"

Steve bent down to look her in the eyes. "Now who are you?"

She pointed to herself, then held up both hands with fingers out. "Sofia! I'm six!"

"Did she say what I'd be helping with?" Steve asked as he allowed her to pull him into the game.

"No," Kathryn answered. "But now you're Sofia's partner. And she landed in jail."

Steve glanced over at Rebecca to find her smiling, then pulled up a chair and hauled Sofia into his lap. "Let's see what we can do, then, about getting you out of jail, Sofia."

Later, after Autumn had come out on top in a very sneaky climb to the top that no one realized until she'd pulled the rug out from under Jonas and Cooper, Kathryn stood with her mother, Steve, Clint, and Laura on the porch while everyone else, including Michael and Jenny and Natasha, played a rousing game of hide and seek on the property. "They'll be hard-pressed to find Sofia and Casey in those bushes..."

Rebecca chuckled. "They will. Kate, why didn't you tell me, when we talked yesterday?"

"And spoil the surprise, on an open phone line? No. This was better." She turned and looked at her mother with a shrewd gaze, then looked at Steve, who was watching the action, and Clint beyond him. "Thank you, Mr. Barton, for allowing us to invade your home for the day."

Clint glanced at her with a smile, nodded. "The kids need to be social, and it's good to meet more of Rebecca's family."

Kathryn put an arm around her mother's shoulders, hugged her close, and Rebecca leaned into her. "And this one, I never see enough in person." Looking at Steve again, she frowned. "Just how tall were you, before?"

Steve frowned back at her. "Five foot three. Why?"

"Curiosity, and it's one thing to see you over Sykpe, another to see you in person, real and here in front of me." She hugged her mother a little tighter. "Aunt Hazel would have loved to have seen you, like this."

Steve winced. "Kate..."

"It's true. Isn't it, Mom?"

Rebecca nodded against her. "Yes. Very true. And I wonder, sometimes, about the medical advancements made since '89. If it would have done any good, or not."

"Becca, I..."

She blinked at the troubled tone of Steve's voice and dragged him into the hug. "We're having a moment, Steve. Don't make anything more of it than it is."

Words of protest died in his throat as he stood there on Clint and Laura's porch, watching as the kids played in the yard. Kathryn glanced over at their hosts to find Clint watching them with an arm around Laura's shoulders. He nodded back to her, and she offered him a watery smile. There wasn't anything else, really, to say.

~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two rounds of Hide and Seek, and a game of Tag, later found Rebecca seated on the porch in Clint's rocking chair holding Nathaniel while Laura organized everyone else into teams for a Scavenger Hunt. Steve had again ended up paired with Sophia, and also fourteen-year-old Jonas.

Laura came back to the porch and presented her with a list. "If you want to try, too."

Rebecca shook her head and smiled down at Nathaniel, who was staring up at her. "No, we're good right here. Aren't we, Nathaniel?"

"The ground is a bit uneven," Laura agreed as she brought another chair out onto the porch. "And I think I gave Nat an unfair advantage with three partners."

"Good."

Cooper came running up the stairs of the porch, Jenny and Casey behind him. "Mom, did you mean any kind of stick, or did it have to be special?"

Laura waved him away. "Any kind of stick! If it's in a weird shape, so much the better."

"Okay!"

Jenny watched her two partners run off, then looked up at them. "This was a good idea."

Laura grinned. "This one was Kathryn's idea, I just made the list. Common items on a farm?"

"Ah." She peered up at Rebecca. "I could go get your cane from the Quinjet, if you want."

"Jenny, go catch them before they win without you," Rebecca told her, and Jenny grinned again and took off after them. She laughed and looked down at Nathaniel. "Well now. I hear that you were supposed to be a girl?" He burbled happily at her, and Rebecca hugged him closer.

"Proved Nat wrong," Laura said with a smile. "She called him a traitor..."

"Ah. Well, it's good to have him here, either way."

"I found a string!" Ruth yelled as she ran past, Kathryn and Asher behind her.

Rebecca blinked, surprised, and looked at the list that Laura had brought with her to the porch. "Oh. You didn't specify a color."

"Too hard, and I'd have had to place them personally without Cooper or Lila seeing me do it."

"Good point." She heard the faint sound of crunching gravel and looked to find four cars approaching from the direction of the main road. "Were you expecting more people?"

Laura nodded. "Kate said their parents were coming with lunch. That must be them."

The cars parked one by one, and then Rebecca counted ten more people getting out of them. She stared as they organized and got baskets and coolers out of the trunks or hatchbacks of each car, and then approached the house in an organized mob.

Mary, Kathryn's oldest daughter, stopped at the base of the stairs to the porch and looked at her in mild surprise, then hurriedly climbed and handed the big basket she was holding to Laura. Then she threw her arms around Rebecca without giving her a chance to stand. "Grandma!" Nathaniel squeaked at her, and she looked down at him. "And... extra kid. Hello to you, too!"

"I'll just put this inside," Laura said, and vanished into the house.

Rebecca soon found herself on the receiving end of a large group hug, and enjoyed every second of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chase stared at the prize handed to him by Laura for winning the Scavenger Hunt with Clint and Caryn. "This... is a golden hand turkey."

Cooper leaned closer to him while the adults organized for lunch at the kitchen table. "That's part of our decorations from yesterday."

"Oh!"

"I did the glitter!" Lila told him, bouncing on her heels. "Cooper did the art!"

Clint grinned. "And it was a very good job that both of you did, too." He glanced over to where the four oldest grandkids in the room were seated in a circle in the living room and conversing, then looked at Michael. "Ruth seems to have gotten over her grumpiness."

Michael nodded. "Helps to have a distraction. Even better that it's family. Also, I don't think my grandmother is going to give your son back to you until we leave."

Clint shrugged. "That's okay. He's getting to meet new people." Caryn tapped his hand and he looked at the nine-year-old. "Yes?"

"Can I hold him, after?"

"Why don't you go ask her?" Clint watched as Caryn joined Rebecca in entertaining Nathaniel, and then took stock of the others in the room. Steve was being plied with questions from at least three children, Sofia included, while Natasha was sending more kids his way and chatting with Laura. "Pretty sure we've not had this many visitors before. Ever."

"Good day, though."

He agreed whole-heartedly.

Two Weeks Post the Battle of Leipzig/Halle Airport...

It wasn't odd, having guests at dinner time around their house, but Kathryn was intrigued when Laura Barton showed up with four suitcases, a diaper bag, three kids, and a dog just after sundown. "Laura?"

"We can't stay long," Laura told her frankly as she pushed Cooper and Lila toward the living room after handing Nathaniel to her oldest son. "And we need to talk."

Kathryn shut the door, patted Lucky on the head. "All right." Then she led her to the kitchen, where both sat down at the table. "About?"

Laura took a deep breath, let it out. "Can Lucky stay with you and Cliff? I can't take him with us, and Clint managed to get word out that our cover might be blown. How much, I have no idea, but he told me to get to San Francisco. I can't do that with a dog. It's hard enough doing it with three kids."

Kathryn looked down at Lucky, who had followed them to the kitchen. "Sure, he can stay. As long as you need. How did...?"

"Clint," Laura answered. "Called from the wind, on a scrambled line to disguise his voice and location. Told me to scatter, gave directions. Said you're not being watched by anyone. In code."

"Oh." Kathryn looked toward the living room. "You could leave the kids, too, if you want."

She smiled. "I know, but... I can't."

"I had to offer."

Laura nodded. "And I'd love to be able to accept, but I'm not putting anyone in any more danger than this. Just coming here is a danger, if anyone was watching the farm at all."

Kathryn considered that, then stood. "Have all of you eaten?"

"Not since lunch," Laura admitted as her stomach growled and she blushed. "I was too worried and busy packing to think of anything else."

Later, Cliff entered the kitchen to find they had some very hungry guests. He offered ice cream to Cooper and Lila.

Chapter Text

Yesterday...

For some reason, he felt like he was listening to Larry the Cucumber espouse about loving his lips as he watched and listened to Tony Stark rant about secret keeping and Captain America, in reference to his parents. It was an odd comparison, Dr. Knutz realized as he glanced down at his note pad to keep track of where they were during this session... there was common theme here, involving compartmentalization and bad reactions to things, honor, and putting someone on an imagined pedestal based on the words of others. "Sit, Anthony."

Tony stopped pacing and blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Sit." He glared mildly at his patient to get his point across, and Tony sat back down on the couch. "Feel better, now that you've ranted?"

Tony nodded after a moment of silence. "I think so?"

"Good. Tell me what you think it means to compartmentalize something."

He frowned at him. "What does not telling certain things have to do with-"

"In psychology, compartmentalization is an unconscious defense mechanism used to avoid mental discomfort about certain things. Meaning: you can know something, but not let yourself know you know it, if you actually do know, to avoid internal discord. It's not the same as the military definition, exactly, that has to do with need-to-know and information security." He waited for Mr. Stark to say something, but the man simply stared at him in confusion. "You were ranting about someone not telling you something important, because there was nothing, or so they thought, to tell you, on top of your having a bad reaction to a mere mention of the subject material."

"Oh. What does that-"

Dr. Knutz sighed. "How old was your father during the second world war?"

Tony paused. "I... thirty? Maybe? Doc..."

"And how old is Captain Rogers? Physically, not chronologically."

"The same, or close to it." Tony frowned at him. "Why?"

Dr. Knutz felt like getting up and ranting himself for twenty straight minutes, but settled for looking down at his note pad again. "One more question: those stories that your father used to tell you, about this man. What context did he tell them to you in? As examples of behavior he wished you to follow, or as fond tales of times gone by, for you to hear? War stories, as it were."

"I think... both. Again: why?"

Dr. Knutz studied him for a moment. "Because you seem to have two frames of reference for Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark. The one gleaned from your father reminiscing when he was older, and the personal one from personal experience and knowledge due to working with him." Someday, he was going to personally thank Agent Romanoff for provoking this line of conversation. Somehow.

Tony nodded slowly. "Right. Still don't see what Dad talking about him has to do with Steve not telling me anything for two years."

Dr. Knutz stood up, went to the door, and looked out. "Mr. Hogan, could you come in here, please?" Happy entered the room and Dr. Knutz closed the door again. "Thank you. You can sit down, if you wish."

"I'll stand," Happy told him as he leaned against the door frame, arms folded.

"Fair enough. Tell me, Mr. Hogan... did your father serve in the military?"

Happy nodded. "Did a tour in 'Nam."

"Ever talk about it much?"

"Not a lot. When he did, it was about fellow soldiers, people he considered brothers. Met a few of them, once or twice."

Dr. Knutz held up a hand to forestall Tony from saying anything. "When and if he told stories about his time in military service, what were the circumstances of the storytelling?"

Happy glanced at Tony, looked at Dr. Knutz. "I see where you're going with that, Doc."

"I don't," Tony grumbled.

Dr. Knutz smiled, then flipped the page on his note pad and wrote down several things. "I told you before, Mr. Stark. I am here to help you find answers and learn things, not to hand-feed you the answers and let you stumble in the dark unknowingly. I had a grand-uncle who served on Guam. He never talked about it, except for once, over a beer with my father, on the passing of a fellow soldier."

Tony frowned at him. "So..."

"So I know a thing or two about this, yes, but not from your experience." He looked up at Happy. "Ever gone golfing?"

"No," Happy answered, frowning at him. "Why?"

Dr. Knutz ripped the page from his notepad, handed it over to Tony, who took it reluctantly, then stared down at the movie and book titles. "Then that is where you'll be going today, with your charge. Play nine or eighteen holes, talk about your father. His father. Whatever happens to come up. Bring him to his appointment on Monday."

"But I don't have-"

"Yes. You do, Mr. Stark. And we will schedule it before you leave."

Tony glanced up at him. "And the golf movies?"

"They're good. And Bobby Jones had something in common with your Captain Rogers, growing up... poor health."

"Pale Horse, Pale Rider by Katherine Ann Porter?"

"One of the better books about the 1918 Flu Pandemic," Dr. Knutz answered.

Tony frowned at another three items on the list. "Bread Givers and Call It Sleep? And... Band of Brothers? Wasn't that some kind of a miniseries?"

"About life as an immigrant on the Lower East Side." Dr. Knutz stood up, went to his book shelf, pulled three of those, and handed them to Tony. "In fact, here. I don't have a copy of Pale Horse here, though. And yes, Band of Brothers was a miniseries. Did you watch it?"

"No. Why?"

"Read the book first, then."

"That's not an answer, Doc."

Dr. Knutz sat back down in his chair, smiled. "Perspective is important, Mr. Stark. Be glad I didn't add The Grapes of Wrath or Of Mice and Men."

Happy just barely succeeded in not laughing at Tony's incredulous expression. Barely. "Well, Boss? Let's go make that appointment and then hit the range."

Dr. Knutz watched as Happy escorted him out, then shook his head and moved to prepare for the next appointment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting out of the car, Tony looked out at the sea of manicured green that was the golf course that Happy had brought him to. "Where are we?"

"South Brooklyn," Happy answered as he shut the driver-side door.

Tony sighed. "Why Brooklyn?"

Happy smiled. "Why not? Come on."

"I don't even like Golf!"

"This wasn't about you liking Golf. This is about time spent outside and talking, Mr. Stark."

"Nothing I say will get me out of this, will it?"

"No."

They entered the club house to arrange a tee time, and in the middle of that, an older man joined them at the desk and told the attendant that they could join him for their Tee Time, since their other two got held up. At that, Tony turned to study the guy, and found him vaguely familiar. "Um..."

The man smiled. "Rent your clubs, Mr. Stark. We'll talk out there, away from prying ears."

The attendant chuckled. "Good one, Doctor Nettleton. Prying ears. Right."

"Not you, Rick. And Rob got stuck in a consult, so..."

"Ah. So, Mr. Stark: right or left handed clubs?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were joined by another man, this one a little younger than the first, wearing a grey FDNY polo shirt. Doctor Nettleton introduced himself as Mark, and the other man as David, his brother. Tony looked from one to the other in confusion. "So..."

"You were probably overwhelmed at the party," David observed. "Which is understandable, because there are a lot of us."

At that, Tony suddenly understood. "Oh. You're part of Rebecca's family. Her... what?"

Mark chuckled. "Nephews."

He sighed. "Happy, I don't think this is going to work, if-"

"Tony," Happy interrupted, making Tony blink at him in surprise at the use of his first name. "Of course this is going to work. People to talk to, ones who will not repeat it to anyone. Correct, Doctor?"

"Correct," Mark told him. "Medical confidentiality trumps one's need to gossip. And Dave's an engineer. No one asks him if he knows any juicy gossip." David laughed. "It's true!"

Tony eyed the shirt David was wearing. "Right. So... who is going first?"

Mark motioned to the first tee. "You, sir. I want to see your swing."

"I don't golf."

"So much the better! A beginner!"

Behind them, Happy grinned as Mark and David coached Tony on how to swing a golf club correctly after watching him practice swing badly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

David studied the score card while Tony attempted to hit his ball off of the sixth tee, smiling because the man had yet to make par or even double-bogey. "So what brings you to South Brooklyn on a Friday afternoon, Mr. Stark?"

"What brought you?"

David glanced at Mark, who mouthed 'total evasion,' and he chuckled. "Rob and his wife were going to meet us for a round, but they both got held up in consults or time consuming procedures."

Tony stared off across the green. "Therapist. Wanted me to think about veterans. Or something."

Mark frowned and turned to Happy. "Vets?"

Happy nodded. "In the context of them not talking about their experiences much, except for select things."

David turned to look directly at Mark, who rolled his eyes and decided to tee off instead of addressing the subject himself. "We know a thing or two about that, yes."

"Huh?" Tony wondered.

"Mark never talks about it, but he went to Vietnam. As a doctor."

Mark did two or three practice swings, then shrugged as he stepped up to the tee and placed his ball. "Not much to tell, Dave."

Tony sighed, for Dr. Knutz had made his point without even being there to make it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isaac was taking his break when he noticed Mr. Stark himself come into the building, Mr. Hogan following along behind him, with a set of golf clubs and a paper bag. He frowned at that, wondering when Mr. Stark had decided to take up golf, and why he didn't look particularly happy as he got on the elevator.

Shrugging to himself, he sipped his coffee. Maybe an opportunity would present itself where he could personally ask Miss Potts about that. Maybe.

Chapter Text

Two and a Half Weeks Post the Battle of New York...

It felt odd, sitting there on Rebecca's couch with a photo album with Miriam occasionally telling him who the people were while Rebecca made phone calls. It wasn't that Steve didn't want to be catching up... just that it felt odd. Very, very odd, and he'd already been overwhelmed before stumbling upon Rebecca the way they had... he flinched when Miriam reached over to turn the page, and she drew her hand back, eyes filled with concern. "Sorry."

Miriam shook her head. "No, I shouldn't have touched you, and you don't need to say you're sorry. Aunt Becca?"

Rebecca glanced over at them with a smile. "Mark and David are on their way with Hannah, and Amos is bringing Abby with him."

"Oh, good."

Steve stared at Rebecca. "Amos? Last I saw him, he was three or four."

Rebecca laughed at Miriam's expression of confusion. "He's Miriam's father, Steve!"

Steve looked again at Miriam. "Oh. This is weird. And... Hannah who?"

"Now that," Rebecca said as she stood up to go replace the phone on the charger base. She'd very reserved since she had basically shooed Pepper, Clint, and Natasha out with a promise to return him at some point to Stark Tower. "How do I explain this? You knew her, before. She was a friend of Emma's, and married Victor, Emma's husband, a while after..."

Steve nodded slowly. "Right. And... who else is coming?"

Miriam looked from her aunt, to Steve, and back again, and then chuckled. "You didn't."

Rebecca's smile grew exponentially, and Steve was struck nearly dumb by how young she suddenly seemed. "Of course I did. Bert agreed with me, that she should come, too."

"Huh?" Steve wondered.

"You'll see, Steve." She paused for a long moment, eyes distant, then turned to look at Miriam. "It's impossible for Adam to be here, but..."

"One thing at a time, Aunt Becca." At Steve's questioning expression, Miriam shook her head. "Story for another time, when we introduce you to Martha. You'll like her, Steve."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first to arrive were Amos and Abiah, both of whom were greeted by Miriam who hugged them both long and hard. She smiled up at her father. "Did Aunt Becca tell you?"

Amos nodded slowly. "Some. Where is he?"

"In the kitchen." Miriam disentangled herself from her father, glanced at her aunt, and took a deep breath. "But first... we need to talk. He's a bit... traumatized. You remember Mark, after he got back from Vietnam?"

Abiah winced. "That bad?"

"In some ways, it's worse, Aunt Abby. Culture shock and post-traumatic stress? At the same time?"

"Also has very good hearing," Rebecca said from behind them. "He's in the kitchen, looking through a recent photo album. Amos... you were both very young the last time you saw him, so this is going to be a little bit of a shock."

Amos nodded. "Probably more than a little."

Rebecca looked at Abiah, who was frowning deeply. "Problem?"

"How young was I?"

"Less than a year, Abby. Now come on. There's a long-lost sort-of adopted uncle for you to meet." Rebecca paused, thinking about it. "Who is younger than you. Can't forget that, now can we?"

Amos chuckled suddenly and put his arm around her shoulders. "Aunt Becca?"

"Hmmm?"

"Breathe."

She turned her head to stare at him. "I'm fine, young man."

"And I've known you my entire life, Rebecca. I know when you need a minute to process through things. Something like this?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve's attention had been divided between straining to hear the conversation in the other room, and the photo album of color photos. He was so distracted that when he glanced up at the entrance to the kitchen, the unfamiliar woman startled him. She reminded him of Hazel... if Hazel had been older and wearing modern clothing. "Um..."

"Amos is giving Aunt Becca a minute to collect herself, Captain," she said as she approached the table and sat down across from him. "And I won't ask how you are. I can guess, what with the stopping of alien invasions and running into familiar faces."

Steve frowned at her wording. "Right. Who are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You."

She slowly stood and went to the bookcase, pulled several of the albums out before she found the one she wanted, and returned. "This explanation will go better with pictures, Captain."

"Steve," he said automatically. "You don't have to-"

"My mother would wash my mouth out with soap, were she here and heard me disrespecting my elders with familiarity that I haven't earned, sir. So yes, I do have to. Captain."

He watched as she pulled a chair closer and sat down, and couldn't stop himself from smiling. He liked her already. "All right. What do you want to show me?"

She opened the album and thumbed through several pages before she found the page she wanted, then showed it to him. "Here. That's you, correct?"

Steve gestured for the album, and looked at the pictures to find himself and Bucky with Hazel, Richard, Amos, and... "Abiah was a month old here." He blinked, startled that this woman, who reminded him so much of Hazel, would give him pictures that were reminiscent of that time, to this specific time. "Wait. Just... wait. Abiah?"

She smiled. "Hello. And I'll call you Steve, if you want. I grew up hearing stories about the uncle who died in the war, and the man who might as well have been my uncle. Welcome home?"

Steve stared at her, photo album momentarily forgotten. "You look so much like your mother."

"She does," Amos said from the doorway with a smile. "And it's too bad Mother couldn't be here to greet you, too."

Steve looked from Abiah to Amos and back again. "Amos?"

"It's a lot to take in," Rebecca intoned as she entered the kitchen, Miriam behind her. "Especially when you might have changed someone's diapers at least once and now they're older than you and are grandparents."

Amos laughed at Steve's dubious expression. "There is some truth to that!"

Steve eyed Rebecca, not missing the fury in her eyes. "You're mad."

"Yes. But not at you." Rebecca sighed. "Trouble is... I can imagine Emma, here with us. And..."

Steve watched as Miriam quietly left for a minute or two, then came back with a small black thing. "What is that?"

Miriam smiled as Rebecca spun to look at her. "This is a more modern camera than what you remember, growing up. Aunt Becca? Go over there, would you? Picture time." She blinked when Rebecca plucked it out of her hands. "Or not..."

"You first," Rebecca told her, nodding to the table.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Next to arrive were two men, a woman with a toddler on her hip, and an elderly woman who appeared more frail than Rebecca, who if she'd not been being helped by one of the men, Steve would have gotten up to help her into a chair. She waved at him, smiling. "Isn't every day I get to see an actual ghost who resembles someone we lost, only healthier. Hello, Steven."

Steve frowned at her, then looked at Rebecca. "Is this...?"

Rebecca sighed, and motioned to the elder of the two men. "Mark." Then the younger. "David." And then the woman with the toddler. "Stephanie, and her daughter Jade. Mark was born in '46, and Dave in '54."

Stephanie chuckled. "Mom and Uncle Gilbert were somewhere in the middle, there, Aunt Becca."

"Quite, but for the purpose of introductions, it's best to keep this simple," Rebecca explained with a mild glare directed at Hannah, who simply smiled back at her. "And yes, Steve. This is Hannah."

Steve looked at Stephanie, still frowning. "So you are one of Emma's grandchildren?"

Stephanie grinned. "Yes. Would you like to hold Jade?" The little girl hid her face in her mother's shoulder and Stephanie chuckled again. "No, Jade. He's not a stranger, he's family."

"Don't know!" Jade told her without looking up.

Stephanie quickly pulled a chair out and sat down very close to Steve, and got Jade to look at her. "He was gone a long time, sweetie, but is back now. All right? Your Uncle Amos knows him, and we would like you to meet him. What do you say?"

Jade stared up at her mother for a long moment before glancing over at Steve with a worried expression on her face. "Momma know?"

"Starting to, yes."

"You don't have to convince her," Steve told her, and then blinked when Jade lunged for him with a laugh. "Oh! Hi."

"Have stawbeeies?"

Steve frowned again, then looked at Stephanie. "Strawberries?"

"Jade loves strawberries," she explained, still smiling. "And really, Jade. You've only just met him!"

"Want, Momma! Want!"

Mark cleared his throat suddenly, and they all turned to look at him. "Steph, could you, Amos, Dave, and Abby take Jade into the living room for a minute, please?" Stephanie frowned, but nodded and did exactly that, sweeping up Jade as she did so. Mark waited a moment, then looked at Steve with a serious expression on his face. "You did well, Captain Rogers."

"Huh?"

"She shouldn't have done that, knowing that you've recently been in combat," Mark explained patiently. "More importantly... Aunt Becca shouldn't have taken that risk with Jade, and she knows it."

Rebecca sighed, then nodded as he glared at her. "You're right. I hate it, but you're right. I just... something normal, after being reintroduced to Amos and Abby this way? It's not the same as you returning from 'Nam." She waved Steve off when he got that confused expression on his face again. "We've got stories, Steve."

"Yes," Hannah said after a moment. "And Mark, while right... is also wrong in this instance. You, Steve, need, and probably have needed, something as normal as a two-year-old that wants strawberries in your lap. Becca evaluated him before calling any of us, Mark."

"And I'm fine," Steve said. "Startled and confused, but fine."

"And Mark?" Miriam spoke up. "It's more culture shock and PTSD from certain things than it is reactions to people and children." He stared at her. "What? We helped Jill through medical school, and I do medical transcription."

"Fair enough," Mark said as he sat down in the chair that Stephanie had vacated and really looked at Steve. "Sorry."

Steve shook his head. "No, it was warranted, and... Buck would have done the same in your shoes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

Rebecca came to rest near Hannah's chair and leaned closer to her as Mark and Steve began to converse in earnest. "I won't tell him that you set him up for that. Ever."

"What are step-mother's for?" Hannah whispered back with a grin on her wrinkled face. She winked at Steve when he glanced at them in annoyance.

Earlier today...

He still wasn't sure how the Nettleton brothers managed to actually talk him into going to the Bronx Zoo with their family, but here he was, sitting on a bench and looking into an enclosure with a Snow Leopard, in a part of the park that was called the "Himalayan Highlands." Tony glanced at the elderly woman seated in a wheelchair parked next to the bench he was seated on, and wondered why Mark had told him he was to be her escort. "So..."

"You don't have to pretend, Mr. Stark. Not here. It's the zoo."

Tony paused. "I don't?"

She glanced at him, then went back to looking at the Snow Leopard. "No. And I'm not going to lecture you, either. I did want to, the moment I saw you here, but... you don't know me, and I don't know you. I'd like to change that, if you'll let me."

"Um..."

She held out a hand, and he slowly took it, shaking her hand. "I'm Hannah Bailey-Nettleton. You met my stepsons yesterday while golfing."

Tony glanced over to where Mark and David were looking into another enclosure with some of the kids. "Oh."

She squeezed his hand to get his attention, then released it when he looked at her again. "It doesn't surprise me that he'd invite you to the Zoo, really. He probably diagnosed you with PTSD within minutes of talking to you." At Tony's frown, Hannah smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know a lot, because I've chatted with Becca, but that doesn't really tell me much. So my first question is this: How are you?" She raised her hand, stopping him when he opened his mouth. "And you don't get to lie to me by saying that you are fine, Mr. Stark. You are your way to being fine, but you aren't there yet. If my children didn't and don't get to lie to me, then neither do you."

Tony looked away from her, to look at the Snow Leopard again, and found that it had turned it's head and was lazily watching them from where it lay. "You sound like Dr. Knutz."

"Must be a smart man, your doctor. And that's evasion." He turned a startled expression on her, and Hannah simply looked back at him with a wry expression. "What? Basic psychological defense mechanisms 101."

Now he was intrigued, for he wouldn't have immediately pegged this woman as someone with that kind of knowledge. It was enough to make him smile. "You're right, as hard as that is for me to admit to a stranger... no. I'm not fine."

Hannah nodded. "Mm-hmm... and my second question is: what can I do and how can I help you, Mr. Stark?"

"You want to help me? Why?"

She stared at him for a moment, hazel eyes narrowed, and then threw a glare in Mark's direction. Tony looked to find the man was now watching them instead of interacting with the kids. "Has no one ever freely offered you help before, that it's so foreign a concept? If so, I'll be having words with Steve when he's out of exile." She paused, shook her head. "And how odd is it that I sound like his mother right now?"

Tony laughed, surprising himself. "That's not it. I just... find it hard to talk to anyone. Frustrates Pepper to no end, Mrs. Nettleton."

"I can imagine." He looked at her incredulously. "What? Just because I'm old, doesn't mean I can't sass people to my heart's content." He chuckled again, and then blinked in surprise when they were joined by a small bundle of energy in overalls.

"Grandma! Big kitty!"

Hannah laughed. "Yes, Jade! Very big kitty!" She looked around. "Now where's your mother, hmm?" She followed Jade's pointing finger and nodded. "Ah. Would you like to help me keep Mr. Stark company?"

Jade looked Tony, who was watching them with a twinge of a smile on his lips. "Mither Tark?"

"He's a friend of Uncle Steve's, Jade," Hannah explained patiently. "Remember? He was at the party in the park?"

"Oh," Jade said slowly. "Like the big kitty, Mither Tark?"

Tony nodded. "Yes. It's a very nice Snow Leopard."

"Ah-hah! Found you!" an older boy said, startling them, and Hannah smiled again. "She got away from me. Sorry, Gramma Hannah!"

"That's fine, Alan," Hannah told him. "Go bug Ruth and Maria for me, hmm?" He grinned and took off running, and Hannah shook her head in amusement, then looked at Tony, who was fighting and losing a battle not to smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She stood, watching the man converse with her grand-aunt-in-law and couldn't help but frown deeply. Jennifer Proctor wanted nothing more than to rush over there and give him a slap in the face, visibly and publicly, even if it meant being brought up on assault charges. A hand on her arm caused her to jump, startled, and she looked at David. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Also... don't. Let Mom sort him out."

"The nerve of that man," she hissed, causing him to blink at her. "Doing what he did..."

David dropped his hand with a nod. "I know. Mark and I got him to open up a bit, but the subject of the fifteen-year-old never came up. And I know you want to march over there and do something that would get you arrested, but now really isn't the time."

Sighing, Jennifer nodded, letting the common sense wash over her. "Now I'm glad I dropped Chase off at the Queens Zoo, with Connie as his minder." She pulled out her cell phone, checked it, and smiled at the picture Chase had sent of a t-shirt. "Ah, they've visited the gift shop."

"Hmmm?"

She showed him. "I wonder if they have that one here?"

David stared at the picture of four beetles impersonating Abby Road, then chuckled. "Maybe. And that's a report I want to see Secretary Ross reading: 'Subjects went to the Zoo for the day, visited gift shop, and got t-shirts with anachronistic references.'"

She stood there for a long moment, staring back at him in disbelief, before telling her son to buy it. "How is this our lives, that we're talking offhandedly about surveillance thrust upon us by crooked bureaucrats?"

"You're the one who wants to slap a billionaire, Jenn," David reminded her patiently. "Normal is relative."

She paused, glanced toward Hannah and Mr. Stark again, and nodded. "Good point."

Chapter Text

A week ago...

Stepping off a plane into the busy airport terminal of Henri Coandă International Airport in Bucharest, a woman in a slightly wrinkled beige pantsuit can't wait to take a shower, change clothes, or take a nap. Not necessarily in that order. Moving with the crowd, she makes her way to the baggage claim and waits for her suitcase.

"There you are!" a voice yelled, and she jumped, tired and startled, to find her oldest daughter running towards her, other siblings, and two cousins behind her. "Mom!" Before she even had a chance to drop her carry-on or react in any other way, she was enveloped in a group hug involving five teens. Well... four teens and a pre-teen, that was, as she got a good look at her youngest.

Good-natured laughter sounded around them as she extricated herself from the group hug, only to point at her husband with a tired grin. "You! You put them up to this, Nick!"

"Aren't you glad I did?"

She pulled her two youngest into side hugs. "Always, and I'd rather be here than Rotterdam!" That earned her a laugh from not only her husband, but also her cousin that they were here to visit. "Next time, Angie, you get to go to the ICC instead. If there is a next time."

Angela smirked. "I doubt they'd want to hear about therapeutic body movements, Allison. Now, which bag is yours?"

"This one!" One of the girls yelled excitedly, and Allison laughed as two of them pulled the blue bag from the conveyor belt of the baggage claim.

Allison leaned into Nicholas as he put his arm around her. "Honestly, my carry-on is heavier than that one."

"Yes, because you're carrying case files," Nicholas muttered in her ear. "How was it?"

"Later. Too many prying ears."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later turned out to be after dinner, a nap had while seated on the couch in the embrace of her husband and watching the four teens and one pre-teen in the room play Trivial Pursuit. Now, after they'd managed to get everyone to go at least try to sleep, Angela was seated at the kitchen table, paging through one of the case files that she'd found in Allison's carryon bag. Allison pursed her lips as she sat down, knowing very well which particular case file it was from the pictures. "Need me to explain?"

"I've been sitting here, reading this... utter crap, and all I can think of is Jill reading it and trying to make sense of it, as if she understands every word." Angela glanced at her, noted the distant expression. "What?"

Allison sighed and gestured to the case file. "She's seen it. Aunt Becca made sure she did."

"Oh." Angela studied her with narrowed eyes for a moment. "Okay... it's more than a suddenly not-dead-any-longer long-missing Uncle. Isn't it? And don't try to brush it off as if it doesn't matter, Ally. This is family. Our family, that I didn't even know was here until I couldn't do anything about it because an anti-terror squad took the decision out of my hands before I even knew I had one. Still upset about that, by the way. And did you know that Captain America runs like a girl?"

Allison paused, frowning. "What?"

"Mitica and I saw part of it," Angela admitted. "On our way home from an appointment. Saw the helicopter and the flying guy first, and had to park the car, and then across the street, one right after the other, down they came from atop a building."

She gestured for her bag, and Angela pushed it toward her. "I'm going to need you to write all of that down, and sign it. Where's..." She rummaged in the bag for a moment before finding a legal pad and a pen. "Ah. And yes, it's more." She handed the pad and pen to Angela. "Runs like a girl?"

"Balletic," Angela told her and began to write. Over her shoulder, Allison saw Nicholas and Anton peeking into the kitchen, and motioned them in while also 'shushing' them with a finger to her lips. "Not that I actually saw very much."

Allison chanced a smile directed at her husband while Angela wrote. "We might just be able to write this trip off on our taxes after all."

Nicholas snorted in laughter. "I think we passed that point a week ago with your getting on a plane for The Hague. Not that I was actually worried about the taxes, that is."

Allison rolled her eyes at him. "Last thing on my mind, really. I've more been wondering where I start in finding witnesses when what I've got is an assortment of surveillance photos from CCTV cameras and the location of the persons who tipped off authorities here in Bucharest, courtesy of Miss Potts and SI Legal." She noticed that Angela had paused in her writing. "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Then sign it and date it."

Angela did so and put the pen down. "You have surveillance photos?" Allison pulled a manila envelope out of her carryon, handed it to her. Angela opened it and started going through them, then frowned and looked at Anton. Then she beckoned him over and handed him one of the photos. "Is that Piata Ramnicu Sarat?"

Anton frowned in thought, then nodded. "There's some high rises near there, too." He glanced at her, noted the frown. "And you two want to go out and question people, armed with a photo of your Uncle?"

"Idee buna, idee rea?"

He looked at Allison with a smile, noting that she'd pulled another file out and was looking through it. "I think... good."

"Ally?"

"Hmmm?"

"Exactly what did you do at the International Criminal Court? This looks like a brief on Human Rights Violations..."

Allison sighed. "That's exactly what it is, because what happened to Uncle James was a complex series of violations. I consulted with several Human Rights lawyers, spoke to a judge or three..." She flipped to a page and showed her. "And got this."

Angela stared at the page in non-comprehension for a moment before she blinked and took the file back to really read it. "This says it's... wait. What? Is this saying that, due to improper arresting procedures, because there was already a mediator on-site, and because there's no actual evidence of wrong doing by the defendant, in light of the evidence against Zemo found in Berlin... oh. Wow."

Allison took the file back with a grin. "Politics is messy. In Europe? Doubly so."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To: PsychologyMom
From: OccupationalHazards
CC: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam, HeadMinion
Subject: Crossfire...

...could actually make a good talk show title, I think. And Mason... why are we making Minion jokes every time we email you?

Allison got here safe and sound from The Hague, if very stressed out and in need of dinner and a nap. (Reporters showing up to the office in a huff? Huh?)

And Jill... we may or may not be able to visit you in Ituri. I think their return trip is slated for August 3rd on the Queen Mary 2, which doesn't give anyone enough time to actually vacation and relax between now and then. We'll see. When's that supply plane due again from Bangui?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting out of the car, Allison looked up and down the street, frowning at how plain and nondescript the buildings were. "This street is depressing."

Angela chuckled as she closed the door. "Communist-era apartment buildings, mostly. Functional, and yet... depressingly Spartan." She pointed toward a corner. "Around that corner is roof access to the freeway tunnel, and I saw them come down off of... that building."

"Roof access to a tunnel?" Allison wondered as she hefted her digital camera and took pictures of the street they were on, the building she'd pointed out, and the corner in question. "Weren't the engineers worried that someone would fall in?"

"In their defense, the access does look like a flower planter unless you're right next to it... and no one in their right mind would normally jump down into it."

"Normally being the operative word," Allison muttered as she looked upward, calculating with her eyes, and then she frowned and moved to really look up at some weird indentations that from a distance had just looked like a part of the building design. She took a zoomed-in picture of the indentations, then showed her cousin. "That's not part of the architecture."

Angela frowned at the picture, then squinted up at the side of the building. "No, they're not. Captain came down with his shield, and the first guy was being chased by a second... with claws, because the spacing is just right for a hand. Intriguing."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The stairwell was standard for one of these older buildings, Angela observed as they climbed the stairs. She'd nearly lived in a building like this, after college when she'd moved to Bucharest for work. "Tight quarters."

Allison nodded as she got to the twelfth floor landing, only to pause. "Look at this."

Angela joined her and frowned at the bent railing. Had someone landed, or... she glanced upward, noted that the skylight was broken. "Take a picture and keep climbing, Ally. Whatever did that, came from above."

"You think so?"

"Unless some drunk had a thick skull and fell directly down, yes."

Allison chuckled, snapped a picture, and then frowned at the doorway they'd passed that led to a balcony. "What floor is this?"

"Twelve. Why?"

"How tall is the building next door?"

Angela grabbed the camera out of her hands, went out onto the balcony, snapped some pictures, and came back with a stunned expression on her face as she looked at the bent railing again. Then she blinked and turned to look at the doorway again, before going to examine it. "There was a door here. The hinges are damaged. So... out onto that balcony, hop to the next roof?"

"Captain Rogers could do that jump," Allison muttered as she bent down next to the railing and really looked at it, then peered upward into the stairwell. "I see a broken railing up there, several floors up, that's bent crazily."

They stood there, taking in the fact that the available evidence was telling a certain story in regard to egress from the building, looked at each other, and began to climb again. Several floors higher, there was a large indentation in a wall... "I know that shape!"

Angela frowned at her. "You do?"

Allison took another picture, nodded. "That's about the size of the shield." Angela continued to frown. "Steve showed it to me once. Or rather, to Aunt Becca while I was there." She glanced down into the open space of the stair well to orient herself, and noticed where the bent railing was. "Whatever he was throwing the shield at... Angie, go over there to that landing."

"Huh?"

"Orientation, and I need to see something." While Angela did as she asked, Allison traced the possible trajectory of the shield with her eyes, not missing other dents in the walls and how beat up it was on these upper floors. Turning her attention back to her cousin, she frowned. "So... that explains it. He jumped, as crazy as that is to consider. And there were a bunch of guys in here."

"Chaos," Angela agreed.

"Ce faci aici?"

Allison frowned and looked toward the sound of the voice, to find an older woman, gray hair cut short, wearing a gray sweatshirt and black pants with white shoes, watching them with a critical eye from an open door... "Oh. Angie?"

Angela answered her in Romanian about what they were doing in the stairwell, and the conversation was too swift for Allison to follow until the woman turned to her with a smile. "Ally, this is Daciana. Seems she has a story of her own to share..."

Allison slid the photo out of the envelope she'd been carrying it in and handed it to Daciana, who frowned as she studied it. "Do you recognize this man?"

Daciana glanced at Angela, who repeated the question, and then nodded. "Da."

Allison grinned as she accepted the photo back from the woman. "Then we definitely want to talk to you, ma'am."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To: OccupationalHazards
From: HeadMinion
CC: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam, PsychologyMom
Subject: Crossfire! It's been ages!

You'd have to be here for that Minion joke explanation, Angie. Suffice it say, it's apt.

Mike and Jane (and Allison) got the reporters all stirred up and doing actual investigative reporting instead of gossip-mongering by unleashing Aunt Becca on them. Yes, it was exactly as satisfying as you think it was, especially since, among other things, Daniel was afraid to answer the front door for a bit due to the sheer amount of pestering. Fara comentarii, indeed.

Glad sister dearest is safe and sound with you. One of 'em, anyway.

To: OccupationalHazards
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HeadMinion, BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: Re: Crossfire?! No!

After asking Caroline... it's in a week and a half to two weeks, depending on our needs. Something to consider here: Allison and Nick's return trip date and when school starts, plus the travel time between here and Europe and New York. What? Just because Maria is in college now, doesn't mean I don't still think that way! It hasn't been THAT long...

You did WHAT to reporters? I hope you filmed it!

The Queen Mary 2... and that explains how Allison and her family are in Europe and how they got there with no major fuss. Maybe I should look into that for our return trip home.

To: PsychologyMom
From: HeadMinion
CC: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam, OccupationalHazards
Subject: Re: Crossfire... yes!
Attachment: LabWorkConversation

Jane may have recorded the one with Christine Everhart, using the intercom system.

And really, Jill... who cares about school and return trip dates, and how much under the radar are you trying to fly at a time like this?

To: HeadMinion
From: LegalBigSister
CC: OccupationalHazards, PsychologyMom, BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: Right... no Crossfire for Mason. Ever again.

**reads...** Uh-huh. I second that question, and also want to slap my little brother on the back of the head. Jane? Oblige me, please. (Really far under it, you idiot.)

And that said... none of us are deep cover agents, and I only chanced international travel to Europe because I had to, to go to Holland. If we can make it happen in the next week or so, then we make it happen. If not, we are fine right where we are, here in Bucharest, visiting with family. Am I clear? Good.

Jill: Exploding lakes and snow in Egypt? Really?

Someone get Aunt Becca to explain the meatloaf and Jello thing. I'm confused.

To: LegalBigSister
From: PsychologyMom
CC: HeadMinion, OccupationalHazards, BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
Subject: Re: We lost all the Crossfire parts on purpose!

First of all: neither my child nor Mike's are stupid and I had to distract them from asking pointed questions. It just so happened to be Lake Nyos that came to mind. And it DID snow in Egypt recently. Miriam said the same thing, by the way.

Second of all: Still wondering myself about meatloaf and Jello, even if they are bland foods that are absolutely perfect.

Third of all: Mason, there is such a thing as plausible deniability. Mayhap you've heard of it?

Fourthly: Intercom recordings! Yay!

Fifth of all: I'm not above forcing you all to decode 5-cipher on purpose. Don't tempt me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Upon arriving back in the office after a business visit to the Romanian Consulate in Manhattan, Jane opened the Diplomatic Pouch to find numerous witness statements, a bill for roof repair directed at the JCTF from an irate building manager, and a packet of pictures. Opening the packet, she began to sort through them, and had to pause at the first one. It was an obvious selfie, with a grinning Angela in the foreground holding a sign that said "Captain America Runs Like a Girl!", and a roof-mounted air conditioning unit behind her that had a big dent in it... and were those claw marks or was she imagining things?

On the back, it said: 'No, you're not imagining the dent or the claw marks, Jane. That was sheet metal, and it takes a lot to dent it, so just imagine the kicking force of whatever slammed whomever into the thing... with claws.'

"What is that?" Michael asked from behind her, and Jane showed him the picture. "Oh."

Jane chuckled. "Apparently, you need to send Allison on fact finding missions more often, and team her up with Angie."

"Are the rest of the pictures that humorous?"

They quickly discovered, with increasing dismay, that they weren't. Several were of the inside of a ransacked apartment where the windows had been covered with newspaper... before being broken. There was also one of an older woman, on the back of which was: 'Nice lady named Daciana who had only good things to say of Uncle James. Said he was nice, quiet, and fixed things for her a couple times. We took her statement and gave her Aunt Becca's phone number and told her to call. Maybe she will.'

~*~*~*~*~*~

To: PsychologyMom
From: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
CC: HeadMinion, OccupationalHazards, LegalBigSister
Subject: Re: So THAT'S what happened to it. I wondered...

**bops Mason on back of head as requested** You're welcome.

Oh, I have at least three different recordings of THE TALK, as given by Aunt Becca. They are all entertaining. (Did I give Christine Everhart her recording equipment back? Hmmm... not that she'd actually miss it or anything. The woman probably has four different mini-tape recorders.)

And... thank you, Allison, for the trip to the Romanian Consulate. I'd wondered what it was like to actually get a Diplomatic Pouch. Whose idea was the pic on the roof? For that matter, how did you even get access to that roof?

To: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
From: OccupationalHazards
CC: PsychologyMom, HeadMinion
Subject: Re: things I saw while driving...

It was mine, and after reviewing footage from YouTube, well... he DOES run like a girl. Or a dancer. Also? I'm not sure who was more shocked: myself or Mitica at the sudden spectacle of Captain America dropping to the ground after two guys and disappearing around a corner in a balletic sprint.

As to how we got access... we talked to the building manager, who is still unhappy about guns being fired at his building, particularly the roof, that he had to pay to repair. Allison gave him the billing information for the JCTF in Berlin, and we sent a copy of it to you.

Oh, it was a new experience for us, too. Had to convince them to let us use a diplomatic courier and explain why.
-Angie

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve had just exited the bathroom after his morning shower and getting dressed, to find Jill leaning against the wall, waiting for him with a grin on her face. "What?"

"I want to see you run."

He motioned down the hallway to the bedrooms. "But what about-"

"We have half an hour, Steve. Come on."

"Why do you want to see me run?"

Jill paused. "Never in my life did I think the explanation for anything would be 'Angela and her son saw you on the streets of Bucharest for all of five seconds.'" She shrugged. "Call it medical curiosity?"

Steve stopped to stare at her. "Angela and her son... saw me in Bucharest? Who is Angela?"

"You've met Stephanie and Allison, right?"

"Yes."

"Angela is the third member of the cousin band, who lives in Bucharest."

Steve paused, thinking back. "Oh. Right, she was at Abiah's funeral."

Jill grabbed his hand, and he reluctantly let her pull him along. "And if an Occupational Therapist thinks you run like a girl, I want to see why she thinks that. So... demonstration!"

Stepping out of his room after overhearing, Sam grinned and followed them outside. After all, he had his own morning run to do...

Two days after that...

A flat package arrived via international mail with no return address and Angela couldn't help but frown at the content of a note attached to a photo-realistic drawing of a group of women in short, somewhat skimpy dancing outfits that seemed really familiar until it dawned on her that she'd seen them before, in old footage of Captain America's USO tour.

The note read...

'After an interesting discussion and demonstration, it came to light that our former dancing monkey, one Captain Rogers, hadn't run much before becoming a science project. The girls helped him get acclimated to his new body in the months following, and one had been a ballerina before joining the USO. Good observation, Angie.
And... after discussion between myself, the flying VA representative, and the on-site psychologist: stay home and do not send us Allison or come yourself. Now is not the time, and we'll tell you when, not before. Not sure when that'll be, and it's best they go home rather than draw attention here. I hate to do that, to tell you no, but... circumstances demand that I do.
-Jill'

Angela stared at the drawing for a long while before putting it on the refrigerator and making sure it stayed there with a magnet. It was good to know a little more, even if she could do nothing more than offer silent support from afar.

Chapter Text

Now...

They'd been chatting for a while and Tony had relaxed enough to open up a little more without realizing it, when a woman he sort of recognized joined them and plucked Jade off of Hannah's lap. "Ah-hah! Found you, munchkin!"

"Down, Kisty!" Jade squeaked. "Want Gamma!"

Kristy laughed. "You're missing all the fun, Kiddo!" She set her down and pointed in the direction of the group of kids and parents. "Go on. I'll keep 'em company now, okay?"

Jade blinked up at her, then nodded and ran off. "Kay!"

Kristy glanced at Hannah with a wry expression as she stood back up, then nodded toward the group. "If my animal-loving kid was observant enough to notice the tension radiating off of Jenny and Steph, then it was time to do something about it." She looked at Tony, smiled. "Hello again, Mr. Stark."

Tony frowned. "Which one is your kid?"

"One of the two group leaders over there," Kristy said with a motion of her hand. She studied Tony for a moment, then smiled. "You good, Hannah?"

Hannah smiled up at her. "We are. Where is Rob?"

She bent down next to the wheelchair and took a deep breath before speaking again. "Rob's having a week where I wish Jill was here and not in the Central African Republic." At Hannah's concerned frown, Kristy sighed. "Just the complex pancreatic case alone would have been enough to make me concerned, but... thyroid storm and two brittle diabetics."

Hannah nodded gravely. "So I should call later tonight?"

"Good idea." Kristy glanced at Tony, who was frowning at both of them. "Mr. Stark, are you free for dinner?"

"You," Tony started, pointing at her. "Want me to come to dinner with you?"

"Yes," Hannah told him. "For Rob's sake. It's hard to explain, but pancreatic cases are personal for him, and his sister is in Africa, and..."

"Okay," Tony interrupted, then squinted at Kristy. "How personal and why does it matter where his sister is?"

Kristy winced. "That's a complicated question, Mr. Stark. Both how personal and why it matters. So can you and Mr. Hogan meet us at Happy Days in Brooklyn? Sevenish?

"Yes," Happy said from where he was standing, admiring the Snow Leopard while also being alert. "It's for a good cause, Boss," he said when Tony turned to look at him with a frown. "And you can't spend all your time in the lab."

"No," Hannah said after a moment. "It's good to be around people."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Natasha woke from her nap, the last thing she expected to find were pups on all sides while Elley and a man she'd not met earlier led someone through commands in both Russian and Yakut. She lay there, wanting to outright chuckle while stroking the head of one of the pups. Was Elley always that animated when he used Skype, or was it simply the subject matter? "Gruzovoy avtomobil'."

Elley paused, nodded slightly, and did so. "No, Stark. Patient here. Now repeat that word."

Ah, so it was Tony. She listened cheerfully for several more minutes before the call ended and Elley sat down with a contented sigh. "Why freight car?" She eyed the man leaning against the door jam suspiciously. "Oh. This is Michil. Michil, meet Natasha."

Michil nodded to her. "I'd like to know that, too."

She wanted to linger in the sea of fur and togetherness that she'd woken to, but the moment was here as she glanced between them, two men grown and shaped by the snowy wilderness they lived in, in one of the coldest places on the planet. They deserved an answer. "It's a code phrase."

Michil frowned. "A code phrase?"

"Oh," Elley said after a long moment. "Like the green socks... thing."

"Exactly like that." She moved to get off of the cot, but a pup licked her nose. "Hey!"

"Seem to want you to stay right there," Michil observed with a grin.

"Well, they're coming with me, so there's no need for added affection!"

Elley smirked. "Always need for that, especially from pups." Over the top of Yellow Collar's head, Natasha glared at him. "What? It's true!"

She motioned to the dog sitting at his feet. "And that one?"

Michil smiled. "This is Saya. Elley wanted to give Stark visual examples of the commands, and we thought it would be good for you to meet her."

"Why?"

"Mama dog," Elley answered, then clapped his hands and the pups, all three of them, immediately turned their attention to him. "Ko mne!" The three pups went to him and he nodded to a side room. "Go and see to needs."

She did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A tap on his shoulder should have made him jump from being startled after the day they'd had, Mason reflected as he turned with a frown to look at who had snuck up on him, only to find Kristy and Andi. "Oh. It's only you two."

Kristy nodded to the still hugging pair. "Right. And them?"

"Miriam really needed a hug," Mason explained, then looked at Andi with a puzzled frown. "Why are you here? Didn't you have work or something?"

Andi grinned. "I had shift yesterday, and Maria really wanted me to go to the zoo. You missed a good presentation."

"Speaking of that," Kristy interrupted, and Mason turned his attention back to her. "Where were you and Grandma, and Miriam today? We missed you."

Mason sighed and didn't miss Kristy's glance at the camera in his hands. "We went to Catonsville for coffee with Jane."

"You expect me to believe that, with Fran so close to her due date?" She held up a hand, silencing him before he could speak. "Never mind. I'll ask Jane."

"Ask Jane what?" Rob asked from behind him. "Hello Mason, Andi."

"Why she'd go three hours away for coffee," Kristy answered, then pulled the camera out of Mason's hands. "And as I saw that message from Dan this morning, pose for me, all of you!" They did, and then she gave the camera back to him. "Now then... Rob? You're coming to dinner. Aislinn's meeting us at Happy Days with Maria."

Rob shook his head. "Can't. I've got patients."

Kristy stepped in, kissed him firmly, and then smiled up at him. "What you've got are concerned nurses, and your family wants to see you. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good." She then spun, looked at Miriam. "And how are you, since Dan said you needed some cheering up?"

"Better," Miriam answered. "We'd join you for dinner, but we're meeting up with Jane and Aunt Becca shortly. Jane had something that couldn't wait at the office."

Kristy nodded slowly, then looked at her husband. "Well? Go get your things! We're going!" She watched him go, glanced at Mason and Andi, then turned her attention back to Miriam again. "Is the story a good one, for why Jane would be going to Catonsville today?"

"It is."

Chapter Text

A/N: On my way to this update... oh yes, I took the scenic route. Scenic route included more than one fire crisis, a parent in need of a pacemaker and assorted life dramas too numerous to mention. (This isn't the update I meant to write... that's next chapter. This... I had to make this LESS weird. By a lot.)

Nineteen Days Ago...

They'd been chatting for a bit, with Chris and Peter and Vincent engaging the young man in conversation while the rest of them listened when the woman with silver (or maybe gray) piping on her sleeves suddenly interrupted them with an odd question that caused Mason to turn and look at her funny. "Why do you want to talk to a lawyer?"

The woman, who had introduced herself as 'Ally', shrugged. "None of my teammates are lawyers, and I would like to talk shop with a fellow lawyer, Mr. Nettleton. The law is the law, no matter what dimension or timeline it is."

Mason paused, then spun and looked out over the crowd... "My oldest sister Allison is over there, chatting with Grandma Hannah. She's a lawyer."

"Old woman in wheelchair, wide-brimmed sun hat?"

"Yes."

"Ally," Peter spoke up as Ally stood, dusting off her uniform pants as she did so. When she looked at him, he tapped his wrist. "Be discreet."

"Of course." She glanced down at Mason, smirked. "Your sister's name is Allison?" At his nod, she looked at Peter again. "What do you think? Pass myself off as a Rachel, or..."

Vincent laughed. "Are you planning on staging a bird rescue on live TV while in Elephant morph?"

Ally paused, considering it. "Only in certain circumstances, you moron. "

"Then go have that talk."

Mason watched, puzzled, as she chuckled and then moved off into the crowd. "Bird rescue?"

"We've got stories," Chris told him with a smile. "Including one where my Dad, before he actually learned to drive, caused his team leader, also his best friend, to have hysterics involving trash cans while trying to stop a dust monster from Saturn from either eating or capturing someone else. And that someone was Ally's mother, Rachel, who once rescued a bird with her boyfriend on live TV." Mason stared at him. "What? You didn't have your parents tell you horror stories about driving?"

"Something about that feels familiar."

"Ah-hah!" Vincent said as he pulled something out of a pocket and handed it to Mason. "I knew keeping one of these would come in handy. Here."

Mason stared down at a book with a cover that had a girl in a purple shirt morphing to a horse. He stared at the Animorph book for a minute before raising his head to look at Chris, who was still looking back at him with a wry expression. "Oh. So..."

"We're from another dimension, Mr. Nettleton," Chris explained as his gaze shifted to the crowd. "And... Really, Vincent? Why do you even have one of those in your pocket? And why that one, anyway?"

Vincent shrugged. "Just in case we got kidnapped by an evil sorceress again. That dark dimension is not good for kids, and what better distraction than a government conspiracy based around an alien toilet?"

Chris glanced at Peter, who was fighting an outright laugh, then looked out over the crowd again with a frown. "Point. And... huh. That's interesting."

"What is?" Vincent asked as he turned to follow Chris's line of sight. Ally had stopped at the food table on her way to Mason's sister and his grandmother, and was chatting with a pair of young women, before moving on again. One of the young women turned so the group could see them, and Vincent blinked, startled. "Oh."

"That's just Ruth and Maria," Mason told them dismissively as he turned back. Then he frowned at the various expressions of wonderment and took in the fact that they all seemed shaken and thrown as one of the women stood up and really looked around. "Unless it isn't..."

"We might have a problem," she said, and pointed. She winced suddenly and put a hand to her ear, listened for a minute. Then she sat down again and glanced at him. "Actually not a problem." She winced again.

"What?" Everything about her reaction and her wording was setting off alarm bells. What kind of problem, and why would whoever was on the other end of her earpiece stop her?

"What Amy means to say," Chris interrupted, his tone a scary shade of neutral that made Mason wince, while Vincent sighed and spoke quietly into his communicator. "Is that we can't tell you, yet. When Ranko and the others get back here in a bit... yes. But right now... no." He motioned to the book still in Mason's hands. "I take it you're at least familiar with that book series?"

"Read the first couple," Mason admitted, making a mental note to circle back to the subject of why the sight of two of his cousins made everybody clam up so suddenly. "Liked other things more. The hysterics involving trash cans does stand out, though... Your father still drive erratically?"

Chris smirked. "No."

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were sharing a moment alone in the crowd of family when the woman in the dark, sort of out of place jumpsuit came up to them and simply watched. Allison frowned at her, wondering why that expression of... something... felt so familiar, before she beckoned her closer. "Hello."

The woman blinked, looked away for a moment, and then seemed to shake herself. "Sorry. I thought I could do this, have a chat lawyer to lawyer, but..."

Hannah nudged her and Allison glanced at her, frowning. "Bring her over here."

Allison nodded, stood up, grabbed the woman's left hand, and hauled her over. She pointed to the chair she'd been sitting on. "Sit."

"I-"

"You need a moment, Miss...?"

She blinked and sat as ordered. "Ally. Er... Rachel."

"Which is it?"

"Ally."

Allison continued to frown, but turned and went to drag another chair over. Then she sat down on her grandmother's other side and simply looked at the woman, her blonde hair up in a braid, the silver/gray piping on her sleeves... "So. Lawyer to lawyer, hmmm?"

Ally stared at Hannah, then nodded. "But can we do person to person first? It's easier. And... you remind me of my grandmother, ma'am."

Hannah smiled. "I do?"

"She passed. Not that long ago, really." Ally shook herself, then looked away. "Sorry."

Hannah reached over and caught her hand, and Ally looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Never be sorry, and I'd love to hear about your grandmother."

Ally smiled, glanced at Allison. "I feel like I'm interrupting a thing."

"You're not, really." Allison motioned to her jumpsuit. "You here with Mason's group of detail people? I'm never really sure how many there are."

Ally paused, then nodded. "He did point me in your direction, so... yes. And... this is going to sound weird, but I kind of wanted to discuss the legality of the Sokovia Accords with you. The military application towards enhanced individuals, I mean."

Allison's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"

"Yes. Aside from the danger of putting people on lists and those lists getting hacked like the IMF Agents list from Mission Impossible..." Ally shrugged at Hannah's amused expression. "...and this is the first chance I've gotten to discuss it with another lawyer, military or no."

Allison stared at her for another minute before nodding. "Fair enough. Mission Impossible? Really?"

"First comparison that came to mind."

Hannah was an interested witness to an intricate discussion on the applications in International Law for the Sokovia Accords...

~*~*~*~*~

He almost didn't notice them when they reappeared and noiselessly integrated themselves, due to Peter and Chris and Vincent still managing to keep him focused on them. In fact, the first one he noticed was the woman in the odd t-shirt and sweat pants, who hadn't sat down yet... "I Can't Keep Calm, I'm a Swim Mom?"

She glanced down at him, then looked out over the crowd again. "I wasn't on this mission until yesterday, and my uniform... too painful to wear right now. Still tender."

"You didn't have to come," Ranko spoke up from her seat next to Peter, which caused Mason to startle and look at her in mild surprise. She smirked and leaned into her husband with a familiarity borne of years and years of intimacy. "Some special agent you are, if a doctor can sneak up on you."

The woman still standing laughed as Mason took stock of everyone and suddenly realized they were short three people. "Ranko, let him be. We have forty years on him."

"True."

"Where are your other three?"

The woman glanced at him again, then sat down with a very visible wince on her face... wait. He blinked in recognition as she looked at Ranko with a sigh. "Don't start. I know my limits, and you'll have to help me up again. I know."

Ranko nodded, then motioned to Mason. "Actually, I was going to mention him and the hologram protocol. The range... he can see you."

She paused and glanced at him again, taking in his stunned expression. "Oh."

"Maria?" Mason wondered, staring at her. She was older, eyes weary, and expression a scary sort of neutral, but this was most definitely his cousin. "How in the-"

"Going to stop you right there," Maria interrupted, her familiar and neutral but authoritative tone startling him because it wasn't odd for Jill to say that, but he'd never heard his cousin speak that way. "And ask you where my brothers are. I see Andrea, but not Martin or James." He blinked, startled again at the mention of siblings.

Mason took a moment to compose himself, then shrugged. "Martin is in Boston for school... and I assume you don't mean my cousin James, who is over there with the camera."

Maria looked, and then shook her head with a wry smile. "No. Andi's triplet brother."

Mason smiled. "Oh. Thomas is at McMurdo Base for a year or so." For some reason, that caused Maria to laugh. "Why is that funny?"

"Some things are the same," Ranko explained with a smile. "Time line to time line, even if names and other details are not."

"Wait," Mason said, trying to get his bearings as he glanced at Maria, who was studying him with that scary neutral expression again. "Are you telling me that there's another Jillian Mackenzie out there in the multiverse who had children with Damian Pentel, and one of them wanted to work in Antarctica?"

"Sort of," Maria told him. "Though... my mother's maiden name was not Mackenzie, and I have three younger siblings. I don't see them here, and Elsie had a panic attack before she could give us any details beyond 'oh God, Jill's here!'" Maria shook her head, then glanced at Chris. "And then Susan had to pull them both."

"Which is wise," Chris replied, tapping his ear in acknowledgement. "Jess told me."

"You have younger siblings?" Mason wondered, still stuck on the idea of it. He blinked again when Maria pulled a small album from the pocket of her sweatpants, and opened it to show him a family photo containing... Rob, Kristy, Jill, Damian, and seven kids. He recognized four of them. "Oh."

"My younger sister Erin, and my brothers, Connor and Matthew," Maria explained. She handed the album to him and let him leaf through it. "And just between us: if someone finds a bat in a cave very soon, you don't get to say you already knew, Mr. Nettleton."

Staring down at one of the pictures as her words sank in, Mason nodded slowly. He didn't get that reference entirely, but he'd look it up later. The implication... "Right. Who are these two?"

Wincing as she moved closer to look, Maria peered at the picture of her mother and father with her and her grandparents. "Oh. Those are my mother's parents."

'The same, but not the same,' Mason thought to himself as he studied them. He remembered seeing pictures of them, but they'd been a bit younger, in formal attire, and that had been Kristy and Rob's wedding album or albums that Jill had let him look through. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at her, at this woman who was family, but not. "Thank you."

"For?"

"You didn't have to say anything, and yet, here you are, explaining as much or as little as you can." Mason noticed the strain on her face, and remembered how she'd winced when she had sat down on the grass. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Maria said as she took a breath and pressed her hand to her side. "Still recovering from surgery, three weeks ago, and it doesn't matter how advanced the procedure is. Abdominal surgery still hurts. I'm going to regret standing up again, but it was worth it." He started to give the small album back to her, but Maria shook her head. "No. I have another, and your Jill will be curious when she finally has time to ask Dr. Khamisi about their visitors who left her a letter that will make no sense."

"Speaking of," Ranko said, drawing his attention, and he saw the manilla folder in her hands. "Captain Rogers said that we could give these to you, Agent Nettleton."

Mason accepted the folder from her, at once noting the Avengers seal on the cover. "Oh. Thank you."

"You done scrambling him yet, or should I go and have another long talk with one of his family members?" Ally asked as she re-joined the group and Mason opened the folder to read the first page.

Maria snorted in laughter, then winced and rubbed at her side. "Oh, we're done. How was your chat?"

"Very good, actually," Ally answered. "I know more about Enhanced Persons Rights than she does, and she gave me some things to think about in regard to birthright law. I almost want to do what Mel did and stay here. Almost."

Maria laughed again. "Connor would never agree to move to another dimension."

"You sure?" She turned and looked at one of her team mates. "Exactly how hard was it to convince Whuki to move?"

Rala rolled her eyes. "That's different, and we haven't actually decided yet."

"But you already know you're going to."

"Dependant on what Dad thinks of the whole thing, sure." Rala watched as Mason closed the folder and raised his head to frown at her. "What?"

"You people are weird," Mason said finally. "Are you always this weird?"

Maria smirked. "Even when we're not dealing with odd cases of spatial genetic multiplicity." At the recognition in his eyes, her smirk deepened. "Why Mister Nettleton... are you a Whovian?" At his nod, she laughed again.

Ally chuckled as she sat down on his other side and nudged his shoulder. "And really, you have an uncle who was used badly by the Russians for seventy years. Pot, have you met kettle?"

"Ally," Ranko said, a hint of warning in her tone. "We are not here to be insulting, and at least his sense of weird is intact."

"Point." Ally glanced out over the crowd. "Mr. Nettleton?"

"Yes? And you can call me Mason. Mr. Nettleton makes me look around for my Dad."

Ally smiled. "What are the details in the case for your uncle? If you know, that is."

Mason stared at her. "You... want to help with the case?"

"If possible. So...?"

Two days after that...

It wasn't very often that Everett Ross found himself being surprised, but this was definitely one of those times as a woman who seemed to be in her early-thirties with blonde hair and blue eyes was led into his office inside the Joint Counter-Terrorism Task Force offices in Berlin. She was wearing a grey/silver pantsuit and carrying a brown briefcase, and frowning at him. "And who are you? Security wouldn't give me any details other than your last name..." He squinted at the business card that she'd handed to him. "Miss Fangor." What kind of law practice was Proctor & Camilli?

She set her briefcase down on the chair on the other side of his desk, then continued to regard him with that ever-present frown. "I'm the lawyer that you should have called, Director Ross."

Everett frowned at her in return. "When should I have called a lawyer?"

"In May, when Captain Rogers suggested it. You didn't, and here we are." She held up a hand, forestalling him from saying anything. "He wrote to Sergeant Barnes's sister, she brought said letter to my law practice. Be glad I'm here and not her. And that said... I also would like to speak to your prisoner. After you."

"I'm sorry?"

She pulled a slip of paper out of a folder in her briefcase and handed it to him. "This is a court order for any and all information on James Buchanan Barnes whilst he was in your custody, Director. You and I are going to have a conversation, and then I am going to have a conversation with Helmut Zemo. You won't like it, and neither will he, because I am here on my client's family's behalf, at his sister's behest, to get any and all evidence and statements required. If you have a problem with it, you can take it up with the UN Security Council, the International Criminal Court in The Netherlands, or the government of Romania. Did you know that the Romanian Government was and is upset with the JCTF for attempted murder of one of their citizens, among other things related to this?"

Everett stared hard at the piece of paper in his hand, then looked at her again. "You are the Winter Soldier's lawyer?"

"One of them, yes. And he has a name. I suggest you use it."

"I'm really not going to like this, am I?"

"Was that rhetorical, Director? I assure you, that you won't." Before he could retort or get enough leverage to think straight, she opened her briefcase again, pulled out a pen and a pad of paper, and sat down with an open smile that did nothing to put him at ease.

"When you say that your client's sister received a letter from Captain Rogers... did you bring that with you? For that matter, why would he?"

Allison's lips quirked momentarily before her posture seemed to relax slightly. "No, I didn't happen to bring it with me. As for why he would write to her... she's ninety-two and a handful, and from what I understand, he can't lie to her, not even by omission. He really, really can't. And it's her brother they'd been trying to find since the collapse of SHIELD. You remember that, yes?"

"Yes." Really... who didn't, and what kind of question was that?

"Then I don't need to lay out anyone's motivations, now do I? My client's sister wants her brother back. His family, including those who only know of him from family photo albums and history books, want him back." She glared at him, clicked her pen once. "Now that I've explained quite enough, why don't you start with the capturing procedure? How did that go down?"

The next hour or so was one of the more uncomfortable ones of Everett Ross's life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
From: LegalBigSister
CC: HeadMinion, SilverWave
Attachments: SoundFile1, SoundFile2, LegalTranscripts
Subject: Someone went to Berlin for me...

...and I can't say that I'm sorry I let them do it. Attached, please find interviews with CIA/JCTF Director Everett Ross and Suspect Helmut Zemo. Do let Mike listen to those, Jane, because he needs a good solid chuckle.
As for who Miss Fangor is... she's someone Mason knows. Ask him.

To: LegalBigSister
From: BarnesFamilyLegalTeam
CC: SilverWave, HeadMinion
Subject: Re: Oh Lord...

Thank you, Allison. Will add this to the list of things we've got. And I will ask your little brother. Whomever this Miss Fangor is, she's exactly correct about Rebecca and Everett Ross being very glad she wasn't there.

To: SilverWave
From: HeadMinon
Subject: You did what?

Ally, when you said you wanted to help, you didn't tell me that you were going to basically gaslight a government official. Also, I don't recall introducing you to Aunt Becca.

To: HeadMinon
From: SilverWave
Subject: Re: Hee...

Allison introduced me to her at the party, after Hannah. She reminded me of my own grandmother, and Grandmother Naomi would have done exactly this to Director Ross. Plus or minus explaining things with finger puppets and having a Hork-Bajir along to look scary... which I didn't do to Mr. Ross, but I was utterly tempted.

To: SilverWave
From: HeadMinion
Subject: Re: ...seriously?

I'm not sure what's worse: the mental picture of a seven-foot walking weapon of an herbivore staring down Everett Ross, or that I now have to explain Animorphs to Jane. You do realize he could have arrested you, right, Ally?

To: HeadMinion
From: SilverWave
Re: Yes. Seriously
Attachment: JointPsychometryReport-WinterSoldier, ReadingListForMartin

(a) He was too off balance to think of it.
(b) In order to arrest me, you have to have charges that apply to extra-dimensional law. There are none for this situation. I checked and double-checked. Also, I broke no laws doing that, and I impersonated no one, save actually being an employee of Proctor & Camilli, but now I feel like apologizing to Bernie Rosenthal for stealing her thunder, even if I didn't.
(c) Have fun explaining the wacky book series that is, kinda, my life. If they ask, that is. I told Allison very little of my own background.
(d) I'm not sure if this will make sense to you, but Elsie wanted me to pass something along, no matter how odd. So: "Hazel suspected. She went back the next day alone to try to find the homeless guy who reminded her so much of her brother. She didn't find him." (If you read the attachment, Mason? Careful treading. Elsie and Dawn had nightmares for weeks afterward.)
(e) Dawn said Martin would find the reading list helpful. How or why all of that is going to help, I have no idea. Is Martin doing some kind of psychology research project involving complications of PTSD?

To: SilverWave
From: HeadMinion
Re: The Reading List

Actually, yes, he is. He had questions about a weird psychology tool presentation, and Jill is forcing him to read up on things so they can really talk about it. He'll be delighted to get more to add to the list.
And thank you for the nightmare fuel that I can't say how I got it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she answered the door, Jane found Mason standing on the doorstep, with a backpack on his shoulder. "Oh. Hi. Where's..."

"Shopping with Dan," Mason told her. "Can we talk?"

Jane took in the fact that he'd come alone and had a very pensive expression on his face, which was really unusual for him, and stepped aside. "Of course. About what?"

"Miss Fangor," Mason muttered as he led the way to the kitchen where Henry was doing the dishes. "Because she so spectacularly did what she did."

"I wasn't going to ask," Jane pointed out as she watched Mason set the backpack on the table and he pulled from it a binder, a small photo album, and a manilla envelope. "You know people of all sorts."

Mason sighed as he handed the album to her. "Maybe, but this... I'm not even sure I completely understand, and it happened to me. And," here he tapped the binder. "I got what we can rightly call nightmare fuel on Uncle James. Not that we didn't already have enough, that is."

"Understand what?" Henry wondered, curious as he laid the dishtowel on the counter.

"The ramifications of spatial genetic multiplicity," Mason told him honestly while Jane paged through the album. At Henry's frown, he shrugged. "You asked. How's Fran?"

"Stir crazy," Fran answered for herself as she entered the kitchen and carefully sat down in a chair at the table. She took a deep breath, and then noticed that her husband was mildly glaring at her. "What? I'm allowed to move around some, so long as I don't overdo it."

"Didn't say you weren't," Henry said with a smile.

"Oh wow," Jane breathed, startling them. "Mason, where did you get this and did you Photoshop?"

"There was no photo shopping, no. Those are real. As for where... the same place I got the in-exile reports."

Jane glanced at him, then continued to peruse the album for another minute or two. "I only met them once. You weren't even a year old yet."

"Mom?" Fran asked, and Jane brought the album to her, pointed at a specific picture. "Um... who are they?"

"Jill and Rob's parents," Jane explained and Fran took it out of her hands to really look. "Which is why I asked if these were photoshopped. If they're not... Mason?"

"What? Do I really need to say it? I'm still reeling and it's been a couple weeks." At Jane's very maternal frown, he sighed. "All right, so I met Maria's extra-dimensional twin who sounded far older than she looked, and also a lot like Jill."

Jane paused, unsure if she'd actually heard him right. "Of the things I thought you'd say, that wasn't one of them."

"Yeah. Me either. And if Miss Fangor hadn't gone and interviewed Everett Ross and imitated her grandmother while doing it, I wouldn't have had to tell you. I'm still wondering why she feels like she stole Bernie Rosenthal's thunder, even if she really didn't." He joined Fran at the table, turned a page or two, and pointed to a picture of two boys, very obviously nearly identical, about fifteen or so years old. "If I understand correctly, because it was not explicitly stated, Miss Fangor, whose name is Ally or Allison, I'm not entirely sure which, is married to one of these two. Connor, I think it was."

Fran studied them. "Huh... they remind me of Martin and Thomas. Definitely Damian. The other one's name?"

"Matt, I think. It was a lot to take in."

"I'll bet," Jane said. "And I'm sure Bernie Rosenthal would be amused, if we were to tell her, that a lawyer from another dimension feels that way." Mason frowned at her. "Bernie is helping us on the case, Mason. Pro bono. Allison even tried to set Steve up on a date with her, but he said he wasn't ready to date yet."

Mason blinked in surprise. "Really? I thought Ally was just rambling in text form. Also, you seem to be taking the fact that I know a lawyer from another dimension really well."

"We got invaded by aliens, Steve was frozen in ice for seventy years, Uncle James was dead, but not, and in enemy hands instead, and the Avengers fought each other at a German airport while one half was trying to stop the other half instead of actually working together. I'll accept that you know people from another dimension."

"Ah."

Fran reached over and picked up the manila envelope. "Can I open this?" At Mason's nod, she did so, only to frown at the group photo including Mason, a Maria who was older and not in uniform like the rest of them, and twelve other men and women. "This looks like it was taken at the party."

"That's because it was," Mason told her. "I had Kurt take our picture, just so I could have evidence of something this crazy. Also, I put a copy of that picture in the card I did for Steve, because I know he talked to Commander Johnson. Apparently, we need to take him to a Chuck-E-Cheese when this mess is solved."

"Commander Johnson?" Fran wondered, and Mason pointed to a woman who had red streaks in her blonde hair. "Oh." Her attention shifted to the Maria in the picture, and she smiled at the novelty t-shirt. "I wonder if I could get one of those?"

"I can't keep calm, I'm a hockey mom?" Mason suggested playfully. "Where are the kids, anyway?"

"Building a fort in the living room with cushions and a sheet," Henry said after he checked. "Awfully quiet for them, aren't they?"

"That's how you know they're up to no good," Fran said, smiling. She watched as Jane picked the binder up and opened it up to the first page, paused, and then read what was there again. "Something wrong?"

"Not exactly. What is psychometry?"

Mason sighed. "That? They had two natural, trained psychics with them, who did a reading on Uncle James to help the medical team in Wakanda. They confirmed what we already know, and added a whole bunch that we don't. From what I understand, both had nightmares for weeks afterwards, and one or both had to be pulled from the lab due to panic attacks. That, and that's how they found out Jill had been there, consulting. Their psychics told them."

Jane nodded slowly. "Right. We probably don't need this, but thank them for me, if you have a way to do that." At Mason's nod, she set the binder back down on the table and stared at it. "We would also have to explain how we got it, and we're already doing that for a thing."

"I still think I need to call all of the hockey parents I know," Fran muttered. "Someone had to have gone to Oymyakon."

"Maybe," Jane agreed. "If it comes to that, you can call as many as you please."

Eventually it came to that.

Chapter Text

A week or so ago...

Dr. Knutz was surprised to see his reluctant patient show up during the 6PM free hour reserved for drop-ins, and the duffel bag made him suspicious. "Mr. Stark?"

Tony paused, then set the duffel back on the floor. "Would you believe a doctor I know that lives in Siberia requested a psychological consult on our joint project?"

He paused, not having expected that. "I might. What's in the bag?"

"Well... it'd be easier to just show you." So saying, Tony opened the bag and lifted what turned out to be a metal arm that had been badly severed up near the shoulder and was burnt on that end. "I told you part of the story of how this happened."

Not sure of how to respond as Tony set it down on his desk, Dr. Knutz leaned in closer to get a better look. "All right. So it's an arm. What about it?"

"Not it, but rather the body horror of something like this."

That gave him pause as he straightened up to look at his patient, and heard the door open and close in the outer office. Frowning, he glanced at his desk calendar, calculating with his eyes... "Body horror?" Who could it be, that would arrive during free hour on a Wednesday?

The answer to his personal question turned out to be a familiar young woman, about twenty-five, blonde, and carrying a journal like always. It had been years since her last regular appointment as his patient, but he was always glad to see her. Had still on the doorknob, she blinked, startled as anyone would have had the right to be. "Oh. I'm sorry, Dr.K. Your receptionist isn't here, and I thought free hour was open."

Dr. Knutz smiled, glad for the momentary distraction. "No, that's okay, Mia. How are you?"

She calmly looked first at Tony, then at the silver prosthetic on the desk. "You seem busy. My child development questions can wait, and Mom might be right about Rocky having a normal kid phase. Tomorrow?"

It wasn't an emergency, then. If it had been, she would have made up a story about J.P., even though she hadn't seen or talked to him in years. "All right. See you tomorrow." He looked over her shoulder, nodded to Lars in acknowledgement, who nodded back.

Mia nodded respectfully to Tony. "Mr. Stark, I apologize for the interruption."

Tony watched as she hurriedly closed the door again. "Who was that?"

"Former patient of mine. Stops by sometimes to chat and catch up," Dr. Knutz explained. If he didn't recognize the Princess of Genovia when he saw her, then Stark could continue to wonder. "So... the arm?"

Unsettled by the interruption, Tony nodded and pulled a tablet out of the other bag he'd been carrying. "Elley really did want a consult and he's usually up about now. It's a fourteen hour time difference."

Dr. Knutz watched as Tony turned the tablet on and then made a Skype call. "So this doctor's name is Elley?"

Tony nodded. "He said it was a traditional Yakut name." Then he smiled, and Dr. Knutz was surprised at how his face lit up. "Hiya Doc!"

"He there?" a male voice asked, and Tony turned the tablet so he could see a man who appeared on the Asian spectrum or somewhere in between. "Hello, shrink person!"

Dr. Knutz laughed at that. "Hello, Mr. Elley."

Tony chuckled. "Don't mind him. His first language isn't English."

"Stark, can find way to make fun of you from here," Elley said, mild annoyance clearly in his tone. "This your Doctor Nut?"

"Yes, this is my Doctor Nut. Ask him what I tried asking you."

Elley sighed. "Been discussing that arm. Arm have... bad history. Not my question, but his. Process grafting. Unpleasant biological. Worse on mind?"

Dr. Knutz glanced at the arm, frowned at it, then looked again at Tony. "I'd have to see how it was being used to answer that. Whose arm was this again?" He knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it.

"Barnes. The Winter Soldier."

"Oh. Now it makes sense." Reaching over, he tried to pick it up, only to discover how heavy it was. "Goodness."

"That's pretty much what Michil said," Tony muttered as he set up the tablet with the Skype call so it was propped up, giving Elley a good view of the room, and then pulled another one out, booted it, and sorted through what looked like video clips until he found what he was looking for, then handed that tablet over. "Here."

Dr. Knutz accepted the second tablet and looked at the footage of the man in question, who looked very tired, relaxing his stance, noting how the muzzle of the gun wavered. "Is that gun as heavy as it looks?"

Tony nodded. "Yes."

"He looks weary here. When was this?"

"Siberia. There's scattered footage from the airport, but I was doing other things away from where-ever he was, and didn't see him again until Siberia."

Dr Knutz processed that information in his mind before glancing at Elley. "I'd think it'd have to be nearly as bad on the mind as it would be on the body."

"Circumstances?"

"Yes. Depending on the circumstances."

Elley smiled. "I leave you with your patient now, Doctor Nut. Issues. Lots. He showed up here. Dented armor, cardiac symptoms. Had to get him out with town tools."

Now that was an interesting tidbit that his patient should have already told him. "Can I call you back?"

"Anytime."

With that, they were alone, and Tony sighed. "I don't-"

"Mr. Stark? Your friend the doctor? Smart man. Crafty. I like him."

"I really don't want-"

"Is life fair?"

"No."

"Then it really doesn't matter if you want to discuss this or not, does it?"

Tony sighed again. "No."

"I'm glad you're aware of that fact. Now... about this arm. Why are you looking into it like this?" He could guess, based on how much better his patient related to mechanical things than people, but wanted to hear him explain.

"To understand it. To... build a better one?"

"Oh?"

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At the end of the session, which had been very interesting, Dr. Knutz handed him a book from the bookshelf. "Have you heard of a man named Louis Zamperini?"

Tony nodded slowly. "A bit. Didn't he break the four minute mile or something?" Then he looked down at the book in his hand and frowned at it. "You must really like Laura Hillenbrand."

"What's not to like? She writes good, well informed, books while battling Chronic Fatigue Syndrome."

"Huh?"

He motioned to the arm still on his desk. "Our topic. I know you were a prisoner of terrorists, but were you ever a POW? Unbroken is an interesting perspective on that, and it's good to learn things about people."

"Oh."

"You mind if I keep the tablet? Maybe call Elley?"

Tony smiled tiredly and pulled out a charging cord from the bag that had held the tablets. "Not at all. And the more he practices his English, the better. I really don't like the reading assignments, Doc."

"Builds character, doing things we don't like."

"But does it have to be-"

Dr. Knutz held up a hand, stopped him from speaking. "You were starting with the technology rather than the person. I'm making you read that so you can get a better idea of the person rather than the shiny tech, and go from there."

"You're mean, and I already have so much reading to do."

Dr. Knutz smiled. "Ah, but is it helping you?"

Tony sighed again. "If I say yes, will it get me out of more therapy reading assignments?"

"No." Silence lingered for a moment, then he shrugged. "Could also have you watch Hogan's Heroes, but that wouldn't give you the right understanding, as funny as those are."

"Hogan's Heroes?"

"Did you know that one of the actors was a concentration camp survivor?"

Tony could honestly say that he hadn't.

Now...

"Aunt Hazel suspected something."

Miriam had just put the key in the ignition of her car when Mason muttered something that caused her to turn in her seat and stare at him, only to find that he was staring out of the passenger side window at the cars in the parking lot of Brooklyn Hospital Center. "What was that?"

Something in his posture seemed off as he shook his head. "Just what I said, though I have no idea how true it is or if the messenger was pulling my leg. I didn't even know what they meant until you and Aunt Becca explained the near miss to Jane this morning. Aunt Hazel suspected something, even if she wasn't sure what."

"Mason?"

"Yeah?"

"That makes no sense."

He sighed and continued to look out the window. "It didn't make sense to me until today, why anyone would want to tell me that Aunt Hazel went to look for a random homeless guy that reminded her of her brother, alone, either." Now he turned to look at her. "I wasn't sure how to say it in front of Aunt Becca this morning, so I didn't try. She's right, by the way. Aunt Hazel did the exact right thing."

Miriam wasn't quite sure what to make of Mason's sudden intuition or what he'd said about her grandmother suspecting something, even if she hadn't known exactly what, and it didn't make it hurt any less that he'd been so close and they'd just left him there. But... it helped to hear, now, even if she wasn't certain how Mason knew what he did. Glancing out at the parked cars beyond the windshield, she felt an odd connection with her grandmother across the years and the distance. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but settled for turning the ignition to start the engine.

"Miriam?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember which market it was?"

She smiled. "Of course. I still go there sometimes. Why?"

He brandished the camera. "Because we need to make a stop before going to the office."

Miriam stared at the camera for a long moment, then smiled again. Yes. They did indeed have a stop to make.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She'd been watching everything all morning and for half the afternoon before finally deciding to talk to Sam the next time he stood up to leave the room. When he did, she motioned to Steve to come with her while Jill changed out DVD's and asked Bucky his opinion on Native Americans.

Bucky frowned at her. "My opinion on what? Why?"

"Indians," Jill corrected.

"Oh. Fine, I think." He glanced at Steve, who was in the process of standing up. "Why is she asking that?"

Steve shook his head, smiling at the awkwardness. "She's asking that because this is probably that movie with the bounty hunter civil servant and the professor."

"Yes," Damian confirmed with a grin. "You've seen it!"

Steve shrugged. "That was actually one of the first movies I watched in the present, probably because Becca didn't trust me with war movies so soon after the Battle of New York."

Damian nodded in understanding, then looked at Bucky. "This one treats the subject with dignity."

"Right. Not sure why you're worried about my reaction to Indians, but..."

Steve motioned to Clint to join Bucky on the couch while he followed Pepper out into the hallway, where Fujo was still seated, reading her book. "You don't have to sit out here, you know."

"Too crowded in there," Fujo responded without looking up at him. "And at least this way, I get to listen to the happy cooking going on in the kitchen. How awake is the Sergeant, by the way?"

"Enough to question why Jill would be asking his opinion on Native Americans," Steve answered.

Now she looked up at him, smiled, and handed her book to him as she stood up. "Awake enough for pictures, then."

Steve watched her disappear into the kitchen, then looked at the cover of the book in his hands. "Pepper?"

"Hmmm?"

"Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy?"

Pepper blinked in surprise, then chuckled at the cover of the Ultimate Edition of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. "Well, she did say it was good earlier."

"Why'd you want me to come out here?"

"Sam left something out of his after-action report," she explained as she lead him farther from the common room. "Regarding Tony."

"Oh?"

"And I think I know what, from having reviewed all of the A/V footage, but I need him to confirm it."

Steve frowned at her. "That's a lot of footage to review."

Pepper sighed, leaned against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. "I needed to know what happened, to better understand. After Rhodey showed Rebecca part of the airport confrontation, and your letter, I had to review all of it, not just what happened in Siberia."

Sam came back just then and watched as Fujo darted back out of the kitchen with one of the photo albums and ducked into the common room, purpose in her stature. "What's up?"

Pepper regarded him with a passive expression. "I need to know if Tony hit you with a repulsor blast like I suspect he did, based on the suit readings, right after Rhodey crashed."

Sam glanced at Steve, then nodded. "He did."

"And you left it out of your report."

He nodded again. "Didn't seem worth mentioning, and I get it. We'd failed-"

"Stop," Pepper told him, interrupting as she pushed herself off the wall to put a hand on his arm. "No, Sam. I was present for Tony testing those repulsors, early on. It was not done in self-defense that he hit you, and he does not get a pass for hitting you when you were not attacking him, no matter how upset he was."

"But we failed to catch-"

"No," Pepper said again, daring to glance at Steve, who had an expression of total understanding on his face. "That was not your fault, either. Was it, Steve?"

"No," Steve answered and gently put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "And I've been on the receiving end of those blasts more than once. They hurt."

Sam nodded. "My chest was sore for a while. Khamisi said if he'd hit any harder, and I'd not been wearing tactical armor, there could have been broken ribs."

"Which makes twice in the same day," Pepper concurred as she turned her gaze to Steve. "James protected him from the kid that Tony dragged into this mess before that." She let silence reign for a moment or two, then sighed. "His highness told me about you in Siberia, passing out at his feet."

Steve nodded. "I remember making it to the surface door, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up to Khamisi's concerned face, asking me if I could recite Henry the Fifth at Agincourt again." At Sam's frown, he shrugged. "I liked to read a lot, growing up. Ma would get me books from the library when I couldn't go myself. Bucky and his sisters, too."

"Henry the Fifth?"

"'We few, we happy few?'"

Sam paused. "Oh. Right."

"And Sam," Pepper spoke up. "Jill might not actually be here for you, but... she is here, and a willing ear to listen, should you need to talk about what happened at the airport. I saw Rhodey fall from Tony's A/V log, and it bothered me so much that I ended up in session with Dr. Knutz while we were discussing Tony. And from what I understand-"

"Pepper," Steve said, cutting her off in a tone that caused her to startle and blink in reflex. "Enough. Thank you for bringing this up. He will also be talking to Jill." Sam sighed. "Hey, if I don't get out of Art Therapy or uncomfortable discussions for my mental health, what makes you think you can skip the talking thing?" Sam didn't even get a chance to verbally protest before Steve hauled him into a tight hug.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They returned to the common room to find Clint on the couch with Nathaniel on his lap, watching as Bucky looked through one of the photo albums with an expression of confusion on his face. Fujo sat on his other side, grinning.

Bucky looked up at Steve, then down at the pictures again. "Oh. That's why I'm confused. Steve, you're still a punk."

"Poo?" Nathaniel asked as Steve sat down on the floor in front of the couch with the book still in his hands, while Pepper reclaimed her chair from Lila, and Sam sat down on Fujo's other side. Steve frowned at the book, then set it down.

Bucky glanced at him, smirked. "Yes, Nathaniel. That is Poo."

Nathaniel surprised Clint by launching himself at Steve, and Steve caught him. "Poo!"

"James, really," Jill said, teasing him. "He's a year old!"

"Imagine Becca at three or four, following us around with a Whinnie The Pooh book," Steve explained with a grin as he tickled Nathaniel and made him laugh. "Only she couldn't say it right, so it sounded like she was calling us Poo, instead of asking anyone to read to her."

"Poo!" Nathaniel said again. "Bug!"

Bucky smiled. "Not rescuing you from the tickle monster, kid."

Steve tickled him one more time, then returned him to Clint's lap. "See anything interesting in there, Buck?"

"Your Ma's in here."

"Really?" Sam asked as he leaned over Fujo to look and Bucky pointed at the picture. "Oh."

"Sam?" Fujo asked, pointedly.

Sam suddenly realized what he was doing and straightened up. "Sorry."

"Rebecca gave me a copy of Whinnie The Pooh," Jill spoke up, startling them. "As a baby shower gift. She didn't tell me it was one of her favorites as a child."

Bucky frowned at her. "What?"

"Story for another time, James." She motioned to the album on his lap that Nathaniel was pawing at. "Kid there wants to see more pictures."

Bucky blinked and looked at Nathaniel. "More pictures, Nate?"

"Bug," Nathaniel told him in agreement.

They sat together for a while, watching Bucky discover the past in picture form, Steve occasionally providing information when he got confused.