It didn't surprise Bucky when he discovered that he wasn't the only one in the Tower who struggled with the urge to move about at all hours, spurred by more than just nightmares.

More often than not, he was alone—though he knew that Tony was pretty much always working in the lab he couldn't bring himself to approach, especially when Pepper was out of town—but other times he would stalk through the halls late at night and run into an equally sleepless Hawkeye.

Former SHIELD, the good side of it, what that even meant, who had been trudging through some nameless desert when everything in D.C. happened.

He didn't know what kept the bow-toting Avenger, awake, and he didn't ask. Didn't want to know.

Clint offered him the same courtesy, and it helped, more than a little bit, for him to settle into the Tower knowing that he wasn't alone and that there was someone who faced demons like he did.

As helpful as Steve had been for him these last few weeks, Steve didn't know this, couldn't understand it.

One evening during a walk that started early enough that the household was still awake, he strode into the living room, stopping short when he saw Darcy pacing back and forth along the edge of the glass-topped coffee table, muttering under her breath and shooting glares at the narrow white envelope resting on her StarkPad.

He narrowed his eyes at the metal knitting needles she held tight in her right hand, ways to disarm her flashing through the front of his mind while Darcy remained unaware that she was no longer alone.

But the longer he stayed surrounded by these people, the manners of protecting himself from potential harm were becoming less and less lethal and he didn't know what that meant.

Darcy let out an irritated squeak after he cleared his throat and she rounded on him, "Oh, hi Bucky," she followed his gaze to the needles in her hand and muttered a curse before she took a step toward the couch and tossed them on top of the bag of wool lying on one side. "Sorry about that. What's up?"

His mind continued to race with ways to stop her if she tried to get back to those needles, and he shook his head to force the thoughts back into the low, buzzy thrum, "I am functioning within acceptable parameters," he cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

She blinked, probably at his choice of words, before she narrowed her pale eyes back down to the source of her ire for the moment, that envelope on the coffee table, "So I got a thing in the mail for Charlie."

"And it is a bad thing?"

"When it's the money my mother somehow got from selling the house we grew up in?" She snapped as she swiped the half-full bottle of beer off the table and took a long drink. "Well I'd say yes. What the fuck am I supposed to do with it? I mean, where the hell is she going to live? What is she doing?"

He just shrugged as she started pacing again, "And there isn't any kind of return address or forwarding address so I can send it back and tell Mom where to shove it. I even called the company she used to sell the house and they've got nothing. Oh my god, what is wrong with her?"

Snorting, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the massive entertainment center, "You know you get pretty vicious when you're pissed?"

"It's a skill. At least I don't have my taser," she smirked as she downed the rest of the bottle and then flopped onto the recliner, her legs trailing in the air before she let them drop heavily to the floor.

With a shake of his head, he pushed off the wall and made his way into the kitchen, rifling through the small refrigerator dedicated solely to beer—because they had that, of course they did—grabbing a bottle that he vaguely remembered as one that tasted decent, "You want another one?" He called as he looked around for a bottle that matched the one Darcy was drinking.

She didn't say anything, and he glanced up, bracing his hand against the top of the door as he saw her favor him with a strange look, "What?" He let out a raspy laugh. "I've been good at keeping the English and the Russian separate, I know that."

"But you can't even get drunk."

He flinched a little and looked up at the ceiling for a second, "Just because I can't doesn't mean I don't still like it."

.Youaremymission.

Shut up!

"Sorry," she winced as she looked down at the empty bottle in her hand and picked at the peeling label. "That was really rude. Blame my mother. She's always brought out the worst in me."

Again, he shrugged, kicking the refrigerator closed with his foot and bringing her the fresh bottle, "I'll leave you alone, if you want."

Accepting it, she shook her head, "No, sorry, sorry," she twisted the cap off, rolling it between her fingers. "I've just been on edge about Charlie starting school next week. My greatest nightmare is becoming one of those terrible Stepford PTA moms, and Constance, as great is it's going to be for her, is like, the epitome of that."

"All the things you've seen and that's your greatest nightmare?"

"I can't control my subconscious."

He saluted her with his bottle, "You're strange."

"And yet, I'm by far the most normal person in residence. Go figure, right?"

Gazing out the window at the glittering city, he listened as her feet scraped against the floor when she shifted so she could place the empty bottle on the table, and her was pretty sure she was still glaring at the envelope, "Darcy, can I ask you something?"

She blinked as she regarded him, "Of course. Fire away."

"You're normal."

There was a beat and he could feel the heat of her eyes on the side of his face as he took a long drink, fought a little to gather his thoughts as the buzzing started up again.

"Is there a question there? Or are you fishing to see if I belong upstate with those kids at Xavier's? The answer is no, by the way, though the ability to teleport would be super convenient with everything I've got going on these days."

He finally looked at her, "It's not that. You're the most normal person here. Why is that?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

Biting his lip, he considered his words, "Why do you risk it?"

"That would be my massive, rent-free apartment in one of the country's cultural capitals."

There was a look on his face, and she was pretty sure that any other person—she didn't want to say normal, but that's what it would have been—would have been rolling their eyes at her.

Shaking her head, she shifted so she sat cross-legged, leaning forward so she could rest her elbows on the arm of the chair, facing him, "I may not have super powers, or an I.Q. of a gazillion and five, but when I was in New Mexico interning with Jane and Erik, I was in the right place at the right time, because when Thor was kicked out of Asgard for being a grade-A douche, I was thrown headfirst into a whole new world, and it was so much shinier than doing whatever it was I thought I wanted."

She took another drink and went on, "I finished my poli-sci degree while I was in London, because I thought it was something I needed to do for SHIELD, and I thought I could do some good with them."

He winced.

"You know what happened next," she tossed him an easy grin and a wink. "But I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself and worry about what I was going to do next, because Stark came along and scooped us all up. I know I can do some good here."

She toyed with the bottle, rolling it between her fingers, "I don't do much for the team, especially now that Charlie's here, but I know that keeping Jane from passing out when she refuses to eat because she's so busy, and making sure Tony doesn't get too obsessive with the new suits he's working on, and helping keep Bruce calm, and taking some of the load off Pepper and the business side is important. So I'll keep doing it. I can't see myself anywhere else."

Bucky nodded when she finally trailed off, "That's, that's admirable. Most people wouldn't."

She smirked, "You did too," she faltered at the blank look on his face. "I mean, Bucky from back in the day did. I read about you, when I was in school. You could have gone back to the States after Steve rescued you, hell, you were highly encouraged to go back home, take your honorable discharge, but you stayed, formed the Commandos."

"Not like he was going to leave Steve."

She didn't skip a beat with the way he referred to himself, and he was thankful for that.

The fact that he did it in the first place spoke volumes about the progress he'd made since he and Steve got to the Tower.

Baby steps were better than nothing.

"And it's not like I'm going to leave Jane behind any time soon, so there's that."

Darcy knocked back the rest of her beer, "So," she drawled, tilting her head back to the table. "You up for helping distract me from the massive elephant in the envelope?"

He arched a brow, "What are you thinking?"

"Certainly not what you're thinking," she laughed airily as his eyes went comically wide, and she shook her head. "You ever had a grilled cheese with brie, chocolate, and basil?"

"You serious?"

She snorted and pushed off the recliner, curling two fingers around the bottle on the table while the other three still held onto the half-full one pressed against her palm, "I've been drinking, of course I am," she patted his shoulder. "Come on. I need you to use your mad knife skills."

"Most people would prefer I stay away from the knives," he muttered as he followed her.

"Chocolate and brie grilled cheese," she tossed over her shoulder. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

Following a grueling sparring session with Thor, Steve was rubbing a dry towel over his head as he padded barefoot off the elevator and toward the kitchen, but when he turned a corner he nearly walked right into Clint's back.

"Oh sorry," he frowned as he looked down at the archer, Clint staring off with a curious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Clint scratched the back of his head while nodding toward the opposite side of the room, half of the kitchen in view, and Steve could see Bucky leaning against the pantry doors while Darcy stood at the stove, "What are they doing?"

He made to step around Clint, but he put a hand on his shoulder and kept him from stepping into the common room, "Don't," Clint muttered. "They've been in there for twenty minutes. He's helping her cook."

Steve blinked, "That's," he broke off and shook his head. "That's different."

Clint just shrugged as Darcy's voice carried through the common room over the hiss of the food on the stove, "So I forgot to ask," there was a clattering of cutlery as a drawer was pushed shut. "But are you all right? You looked kind of twitchy when you first came in."

For a minute, Bucky was silent, and Steve was absolutely sure he wasn't going to answer before he heard, "I just needed to walk."

"Well that's cool," she said, and Steve could imagine the look on her face, one that said she didn't believe him for a second.

She used that one a lot lately.

"Well anyhoo," she went on. "I'm going to run downstairs and make sure my geniuses don't pass out on things that may or may not explode. Will you pop whatever sandwiches you don't eat into the toaster and ask JARVIS to tell Steve and Clint there's here before you go back to trekking?

"I can do that."

"I know you can, but will you?" They could hear the laughter in her voice. "Thanks again for distracting me."

There was a quiet clatter and the clang of a skillet falling into the metal sink, "Darcy?"

"Yeah?"

"The sandwiches," Bucky paused. "They weren't very nutritious."

She laughed, "Not really the point."

"Well they were good."

"And that was the point. All hail comfort food. I'll catch you later Bucky."

They heard the slap of her feet against the floor echo fainter and fainter as she made her way toward the auxiliary elevator bay on the far side of the building.

Steve shared a look with Clint, and both shrugged as they moved into the living room.

Bucky was standing in the doorway to the kitchen watching them.

"Buck-"

He cut Steve off with a sharp tilt of his head back over his shoulder, "Darcy left you two something to eat."

Steve didn't know what to say, but Clint recovered quicker, "Thanks man," he clapped Steve on the shoulder as Bucky stepped out of the way so he could make it into the kitchen.

"I didn't know you were interested in cooking," Steve said after a minute.

Bucky shrugged, "Darcy is. She's good at it," he turned and headed toward the way Steve came in. "You should eat before they get cold. They won't taste as good."

Without another word, he left Steve standing in the middle of the room, staring off and trying to make sense of what just happened until Clint poked his head out of the kitchen, half a sandwich in a hand wrapped in a dingy ace wrap, "You have to try this, man. How did we not know Darcy could do this back in Puente?" he went on, more to himself as he shuffled away. "Good God, JARVIS, we need to erect a shrine or something."

Shaking his head, Steve spared a final glance back toward the hall before he went into the kitchen.

"Snack time!" Darcy's voice rang out through the lab as the doors swished open.

Unsurprisingly, she was more or less ignored, with Tony's robots perking up at her arrival more than the humans did.

She walked over to Jane's corner, passing the mess that was her own desk and the discarded equipment and wipe boards that made for an interesting obstacle course that Tony refused to go anywhere near, "Hey Jane, you awake in there?"

It took her a couple of minutes of gentle cajoling to draw the woman away from the readouts on the trio of wall-mounted monitors in front of her, and Jane eventually blinked out of her intense focus, "Darcy," she blinked a couple more times as she looked up. "Where have you been? I needed you to turn in those requisition forms a couple hours ago."

"Already handed them off to Stark's people down in R&D. I was having a huge case of the ugh after the courier gave me something from Ms. Missing In Action and needed a break before I broke something," she shrugged and held up the covered platter in her hands. "Made you and the bros some very tasty sandwiches."

Jane's eyes went wide, "Darcy, that courier came hours ago! Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

"You were pretty engrossed in those molecular stabilization readings," she waved a hand to the wall of equipment and monitors. "I didn't want to knock you off your groove."

"Darcy!"

"What? I'm okay!" She insisted. "I paced a bit, had a couple beers, and made some food."

With a blink, Jane finally focused on the platter Darcy had placed on her desk, wrinkling her nose at the messy piles of reports and science journals it covered, "That's a lot of food."

"Bucky helped me," she lifted the lid and eased two on the plate before she handed the platter off to Dum-E, and the robot scurried over to the other side of the lab where Bruce and Tony were busy throwing little balls of digital files back and forth at each other. "We made a bunch for everyone."

She handed Jane the plate and arched a brow, "What? Why with the face?"

Jane tilted her head, "Did he volunteer or was he-"

Darcy rolled her eyes and propped her hip against the desk, "No, he was not volun-told. Like he's really going to let someone like me order him around. Come on. All I did was ask him to slice up some brie, and he did. That's it. Now eat before it gets cold, woman."

As Jane nibbled on the corner of her sandwich, she focused her gaze on Darcy, "You like him."

Doing a double take, Darcy spared a glance at the far side of the room, but Tony and Bruce didn't seem to hear.

Because Tony would probably have jetted on over courtesy of the new suit boots he had been wearing all day—because of reasons, and really, Pepper had to stop leaving the country—if he had.

"Left-field much Jane? I've seen the guy like, ten times since he moved in, and he lives twenty feet from my apartment. I had more interactions with those truck drivers on their monthly trips through Puente."

"So?" She shot back, her eyes fluttering as she hummed in approval around another bite of cheese and chocolate. "You know how long it took me to figure out I had feelings for Thor."

"Who literally swept you off your feet with stories of the great beyond. What does any of this have to do with me bringing you a snack?" Darcy muttered as she looked down at Jane's desk and started picking up the pens scattered across the surface and collected them into a chipped Culver coffee mug.

"Oh, I don't know, the fact you won't look me in the eye, maybe?"

Darcy's eyes snapped to meet Jane's, "What? So he's hot. So is like, every single person in this building. Even the janitorial staff is attractive. I think it's a Stark Industries hiring requirement or something."

"Darcy."

She threw her hands up, "Come on Jane, it's not like anything is going to happen. He's got enough on his mind."

Finishing half of the first sandwich, Jane wiped her fingers off on a napkin, "Well you shouldn't let it stop you."

"Jane."

She shrugged and grabbed another half before she turned back to the monitors, "Well if you're not going to keep me distracted by the best gossip I've heard since you mentioned you were actually sleeping with your intern, you might as well help me with this," she grabbed a thick stack of printouts. "I'm going to give you some numbers and some categories for baselines, and I need you to highlight anything outside of the parameters."

Accepting the pile, she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a couple highlighters, "I really wish you wouldn't mention him."

"Yeah, yeah."

She dropped onto the chair Jane hadn't been sitting in since that morning and waited for her to write out the numbers, taking the bright green Post-It and slapping it onto the top of the pile before she pushed across the room to her own desk.

Kicking her feet up, she propped the papers against her legs, "You know something Jane?" She called before the other woman could fall back into the haze of science. "You're a real stinker, and sometimes I hate you. Really."

Without looking over, Jane scoffed, "You do like him. It's cute, really."

"Shut up."

Halfway through the pile, at least two hours later, Darcy realized she left that stupid envelope back in the living room, and it startled her so badly she almost fell off her chair.

Damn it.

The day and night before Charlotte's first day of Pre-K, Darcy was so busy wrapped up in a project Jane and Bruce were working on that she was pretty sure involved the Bifrost but might have been about adapting a larger arc reactor into a power source for an engine bigger than an Iron Man suit, or both, that she barely had time to pack the little girl into bed before she had to run back down to the labs.

A pang shot through her chest when she took the time to think about just how often she left Charlotte to her own devices or to the supervision of the trio of early-childhood education specialists that SI employed.

It was well after midnight when Darcy finally stumbled into the apartment, kicking her shoes off in the doorway as JARVIS turned the lights up enough that she could see without walking into the furniture scattered throughout the living room.

Draping her bag over the back of the couch, she shuffled into her bedroom and shucked her layered shirts and ratty jeans in favor of sleep pants and a tank top before she flopped onto the bed face-first.

She breathed deep, her mind drifting off.

And then it hit her.

Tomorrow was Charlotte's first day of school.

Letting out a defeated groan through her nose, Darcy cursed her mother for the umpteenth time as she pushed off the deliciously warm and rumpled duvet, groping for her glasses where she tossed them on the nightstand and shoving the back across her nose.

As she crossed back into the living room, she had to kick aside one of Charlotte's abandoned dolls before she could make her way to the hallway off the small kitchenette that was rarely ever used.

Pressing her ear to Charlotte's door, she was greeted with silence—which she expected at oh-dark-really-late—and Darcy pressed one hand against it as she slowly twisted the knob with her other hand, easing the door open and letting a tiny shaft of light spill into the room.

Which was empty.

Darcy flicked the door aside and let it bang against the wall, rubbing her aching eyes as the noise broke the silence in the apartment, "J," she groaned. "Where the hell is Charlie?"

"In the kitchen, Ms. Lewis."

She sighed as she pivoted heavily, stumbling against the wall and catching herself on her elbow with a curse, rubbing it as she made her way out of the suite, "A warning or a notice or something might have been nice."

There was a pause.

"My apologies, Ms. Lewis."

She slumped against the elevator wall, "Yeah, yeah."

Squinting at the bright lights when she stumbled into the room, Darcy found Charlotte sitting on her knees at the table with markers and paper scattered around her.

That wasn't surprising, since the kid like to draw when she couldn't sleep, and Darcy would come into her room in the morning to the sight of her surrounded by paper and arms covered in ink.

What Darcy didn't expect was to see Bucky Barnes in a chair next to Charlotte, a marker in his left hand as he drew a symbol that looked Cyrillic before he slid the piece of paper in front of her.

At the indrawn breath she couldn't hold back, Bucky's head shot up, and color bled away from his already pale face, "Uh, Darcy-"

"What are you two doing?" She asked, her voice a little strangled, but more or less even as she got a water bottle out of the refrigerator. "At," she squinted at the clock on the microwave. "After midnight. On a Sunday."

Charlotte bounced on her knees and picked up another piece of paper so Darcy could see another symbol drawn in Bucky's hand, her shaky repetitions printed in a row below it, "Bucky's teaching me Russian letters."

"She doesn't even know all of her English letters yet."

Bucky, who had tensed so hard the marker in his hand cracked in half, snapped out of it, tossing it away and ignoring how ink splattered all over his metal hand and the table, "Sorry, I'll just go," he muttered, bolting out of his chair and out of the room. "Sorry."

Before she could say a word, he was gone, disappearing into the darkened hallway.

"Darcy?"

Charlotte's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she put a finger up, narrowing her eyes, "Do not move, Kid. I'll be right back."

"But Darcy-"

She glanced back over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, "Charlotte, you keep that butt glued to that chair. I'll be right back."

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she slumped back, "Okay," she said to the empty room, and she looked at the splattered mess on the tabletop before dragging her fingers through it.

JARVIS pointed Darcy right back where she came from, to the apartment Bucky and Steve shared across the hall from her own.

Like he'd go anywhere else.

She tapped hard on the door until a bleary-eyed captain yanked it open, irritation quickly falling away and replaced by confusion, "Darcy? Is something wrong?"

Shouldering past him, she stepped into the clean, sparse living room—other than the decorations Pepper ordered to furnish all the apartments, there were a couple framed portraits of Peggy and the Howling Commandos torn out of Steve's sketchbook, but not much else—"I need to have words with your heterosexual life-mate."

Steve blinked as he made his way after her, his sleepy mind trying to keep up and failing, "My what?"

Whirling around, she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head pointedly, "Bucky. Where the hell is Bucky?"

"I think he's in his room," Steve frowned. "Darcy, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

She took a deep breath, her shoulders hunching up to her ears as she made herself calm down, "Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to him. One person way out of their depth to another. Cool?"

"Darcy, it's after midnight."

"And I've been up twenty-nine hours, what's one more?"

Darcy did her level best not to flinch as Steve stared her down before finally shaking his head and waving a hand toward the hallway, "End of the hall, go ahead."

"Thank you."

The door to Bucky's room was hanging half open, and she could see him pacing back and forth in front of the bed—which looked like it hadn't been slept in, ever, though one of the fancy decorative pillows was lying on the hardwood next to it.

Bucky flipped around and cursed under his breath when he saw her, but this time it was in English, "I'm sorry, Darcy."

"For what?" She snapped, well aware that Steve was definitely still standing at the far end of the hallway and making no attempt to pretend he wasn't watching the exchange.

Frowning, Bucky stopped pacing and shrugged, "I shouldn't have been alone with her," Darcy glowered at the way he didn't look at her when he spoke. "I should'a told you when she started coming out to see me."

And suddenly, some of the puzzle pieces carved out by Charlotte's off-hand comments and her newfound love for afternoon snoozes began to fit together into something that almost looked like a picture.

And apparently, it was one that featured Bucky.

"How often does she?"

He shrugged, "Few times a week the last couple weeks. I should have told you. I'm sorry."

It took everything she had, but Darcy managed to suppress the urge to roll her eyes so hard they fell out of their sockets.

That, and then smack him upside the head.

"Stop apologizing! Other than not telling me my sister's apparently a little sneak, you haven't done anything wrong!"

Throwing his hands up, he looked at her incredulously, and then started pacing again, "Are you insane, woman?" She did her level best not to flinch at his raspy shout. "Do you have any idea what I am?"

"You're the guy putting up with my insomniac sister and teaching her Russian," she squared her shoulders. "That's all I need to know."

"I'm not safe to be around."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she drifted to the side and propped her shoulder against the doorframe, "Bucky, I let Charlie use a man that shares his body with a giant green rage monster as her own personal jungle gym. Hanging out with an assassin toting around a case of PTSD that a team of shrinks could write papers about for decades, while being monitored by a semi-autonomous robot in the kitchen of one of the most protected buildings in the tri-state area is, quite frankly, the very least of my actually extensive list of things I am worried about."

Bucky bit down on his lower lip before he finally dropped to sit at the foot of his bed, blue eyes wide and full of something that made Darcy feel a little sick when she met his gaze.

Because she was pretty sure it was fear.

"You're insane."

"I work for Jane Foster and am Tony Stark's unofficial nanny. Of course I'm crazy," she rubbed at the spot below her right eye to dispel the sudden throbbing. "Bucky, I have a question."

"Yes?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her head toward the ceiling as she carefully pieced her words together into something she hoped wouldn't set him off, or worse, scare him off, because Steve would probably kill her if she did, "Do you actually like teaching my sister?"

After a minute, Bucky shrugged, his gaze sliding past her and out the door where Steve was still listening, but he had moved back out to the living room in a pretense of offering privacy.

Like she didn't know that his super powers included super hearing.

But save one shrug, Bucky didn't say anything else, and Darcy had to tamp down on the frustration that was building back up in her chest.

"No, no, I need an actual answer to this one," she tried again. "Is it something you're doing because you like it, or because you feel obligated to fill a four-year-olds' time so you can atone for sins you didn't willingly commit?"

Bucky was quiet, gaze focused inward as he chewed on his lower lip, and Darcy had to try really hard not to let it distract her.

This was all Jane's fault.

He finally looked back up, "It's," he trailed off as he tried to think of the right word, mouthed a couple before he settled on. "It is nice."

"Good," she chirped. "Then I don't see a problem with you keeping it up. Though, maybe you could try to keep it to the daylight hours. Charlie is only four, and she's got school tomorrow. Also, you're not the one who has to deal with her when she's cranky and overtired."

Bucky deflated, his wide eyes taking her in as if he hadn't seen her before.

Which, admittedly, he did pretty often around her.

"Really?"

"Dude, why not? Whacky parenting magazines say that learning a second language is important for child development, and you're a hell of a lot cheaper than any fancy tutor I could ever dig up. Or really, ask Pepper to dig up, because how is this actually my life?"

Laughing hollowly, he rubbed a hand over his forehead, "You really are crazy."

"Come on," she held her hand out. "I think you were in the middle of something before I barged in."

"Might've been."

He hesitated long enough that Darcy thought about dropping her hand, but then he stood and curled his around hers, almost startling at the warmth of her skin.

Shaking it off as he let her lead him through the apartment, passing Steve, who watched them curiously, his eyes narrowed at their joined hands, "You two work everything out?"

Darcy tossed a grin over her shoulder and kept pushing onward, "Like you didn't hear every word we said. Have a good night, Cap! Thanks for letting me barge in."

They stepped through the hall and into the elevator, and Bucky wasn't sure what dashed through his chest when Darcy dropped his hand, but he knew he didn't like the feeling, like something else was missing.

Something he wanted back, almost more than the memories of his old life.

Darcy didn't seem to notice the turmoil rushing through his mind as she padded off the elevator a step ahead of him, and he only just realized she was barefoot, but he wasn't sure why it mattered so much.

When she realized he was hesitating, Darcy pivoted back toward him and tugged on his arm, "Come on Bucky," she got him to take a step forward before he paused again. "This is your home. You don't have to hide here."

He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, "Are you sure, Darcy?"

"Yes."