*Kaila's POV*

I glance in the rearview mirror at myself again, ensuring for the thousandth time that my hair is in place and I don't have something between my teeth, or God forbid, hanging from my nose. Sam makes eye contact with me in the mirror and I quickly look away, face warming.

He smirks. "You know Cap's not going to care what you look like."

I shrug, pushing my hair back behind my ear. "So? This is my first time meeting him; I care."

Sam just shakes his head, laughing softly. "Have it your way. But I'm telling you, he's not worth all the stress. He's just a normal guy; if anything, you're probably cooler than he is."

I snort. "Okay."

"Seriously. The dude's a loser."

I turn my head to gape at him jokingly. "Did you just insult the great Captain America?"

Sam lifts his fingers slightly off the steering wheel in response. "What can I say? I know him pretty well by now and I promise you, Steve is a total dork."

I roll my eyes, chuckling. "Well, I'll make the final call on that once I meet—"

My sentence is cut off as Sam suddenly slams the brakes to avoid hitting a small Subaru that abruptly pulls out in front of us. Sam brings his hand down on the horn, honking a couple times for good measure, but I can only sit in the seat silently, right hand wrapped tightly around the overhead handle. My heart is going a million miles a minute and my throat closes up. I feel like I've been doused in ice; my skin prickles uncomfortably and all breath has left my body.

"Asshole," Sam mutters under his breath. "Some people just don't know how to drive. Ridiculous." He glances over at me but I continue to stare straight ahead. "Hey, Kaila. Hey. Are you alright?"

I nod my head slightly, then shake it back and forth. "I…" I clear my throat to get the words out. "I kinda have a thing with cars."

Sam frowns. "What do you mean a thing?'

I shrug, voice getting stronger as I speak. "I was in a car accident about a year ago. It's kinda fucked me up as far as driving goes."

Sam stays silent, contemplating what I just said. I can't help but compare his (nonexistent) reaction to my f-bomb versus James' on Saturday night. When I make small connections like that, it's so obvious that the two men grew up in different time periods. I still feel like an idiot for not realizing sooner and figuring it out on my own. I'm a damn history major. Really.

"Were you driving?" asks Sam finally.

I nod. "Yeah."

He sighs deeply. "Have you driven since? Like, actually driven. Not just ridden as a passenger."

I shake my head. "Uh-uh. I don't think I can drive again. Not after that."

"Have you seen anyone about your PTSD?"

I turn to look at him in surprise. "My what?"

Sam keeps his eyes pointedly on the road, an action I appreciate. Even though he speaks to me, he refuses to look over; I know it's for my comfort, and I feel a sudden surge of warmth towards him. "Your Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You don't need to be a veteran to experience it."

"Oh." I glance out the window, watching the buildings blur by. "Um…not really. I mean, I go to Alcoholics Anonymous, because as you now know, I'm trying to work on my drinking habit. But no, I've never really thought about having…other issues. I guess like you've said, I've only considered it to be something soldiers deal with."

"Well," Sam clears his throat. "As a guy who's spent a lot of time working with people with PTSD, I know the symptoms. You're anxious in a vehicle, you haven't driven since, and you just went into a bit of panic there when that car pulled out in front of us. Your alcoholism is important, and it should be your priority, but don't neglect other parts of your mental health."

I stare at him in awe. "And I thought you were just brawn."

He laughs. "Baby, I'm brain and brawn."

I roll my eyes, not able to help the smile that spreads across my face. I like Sam; his personality is infectious and he's fun to be around, yet he has a steadiness that makes me feel like I can tell him anything and he'll not only listen, but will take me seriously.

"So you've worked with people with PTSD, huh?" I ask, tugging at my fingers.

He nods. "Yeah, I used to. But then the Avengers gig got kinda serious, so. Why?"

I sigh. "Do you think you could help me with it?"

Sam smiles slightly. "Of course. We could chat right now for the next—" He glances at the clock on the dashboard. "—fifteen minutes before we arrive at the Avengers Compound."

I nod, swallowing nervously. "Alright. Where should I start?"

"Just tell me what happened. And then we can go from there."

I don't know why, but I tell him everything about the accident, not holding back any piece of information. I describe the screeching tires and flashing headlights, and the gut-wrenching crunch of a body flying through a windshield. I draw images of razor sharp glass slicing my face and an airbag knocking all the wind from my body. I told James I was in a car accident and lost someone, but this is different. I'm giving Sam details I haven't described in a year, remembering each moment, even down to standing over Jamie's broken form on the asphalt (though I don't say his name). I'm deadly calm throughout the retelling, surprising even myself. It isn't until we pull into the driveway of the Compound that I taste the saltiness of silent tears on my lips.

Once Sam puts the car in park and turns the ignition off he turns to face me, taking my left hand in his right. "You don't usually talk about this, huh?"

I shake my head.

Sam smiles sympathetically, holding my gaze. "I'm glad you told me. It's uh…" He nods his head slowly, lost in thought. "It's hard to lose someone like that — to wonder if you could have saved them. Believe me, I know the feeling. All I can tell you right now is that it's not your fault. Accidents happen; that's why they call them accidents. None of that was your fault."

I nod, rubbing my cheeks roughly to stop the tears. "I know. I just wish I could talk about it without crying. I can't even talk about him without falling apart, even if it's good stuff."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone deals with trauma differently. You're not expected to just jump back from an incident like this, especially when you've lost someone as a result." His thumb runs soothingly over my hand. "The more you talk about it, the easier it'll get to wrap your head around. The more you suppress it, the more it'll eat you up inside. Do you get nightmares?"

I shrug, still wiping my face with my free hand. "Sometimes. But they're not as bad as they used to be."

Sam nods. "Well, that's a good sign." The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "We'll get you driving again, Kaila."

I swallow. "What if I don't want to?"

"I respect that." Our dark eyes stay trained on each other. "But I think the more fear you're able to overcome, the more you can recover. You got some stuff going on Kaila; addiction, PTSD, grief, that's all a lot to deal with. Fortunately, I know a good amount about those things, so I'm always available to help you out."

Sam purses his lips, eyebrows creased. "But if we're being real, your biggest resource is the guy across the hall from you. He knows even more than I do."

I shake my head. "James and I aren't speaking right now."

Sam shrugs. "I know. He told me."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? What'd he say?"

"That he scared you off."

I snatch my hand out of Sam's, rolling my eyes. "That's what he said? Well, that's a load of shit."

Sam chuckles. "Before I met you I would've believed him. But when he told me on Sunday…I don't know. I didn't buy it. He pushed you away, didn't he?"

I furrow my eyebrows, staring intently at Sam. "It's scary how well you know him."

"You think I'm scary? Wait until you hear Steve talk about him. They know each other like the back of their hands. Now that is scary." Sam grins at me. "And speaking of which, it's time for us to get inside if you're ready. Your eyes aren't red anymore, so don't worry about that, and you look great. Are you excited to meet America's hero?"

I inhale, then exhale forcefully. "Are you sure I look okay? Like I didn't just break down in the front seat of your car?"

"If I didn't know, I wouldn't be able to tell." Sam pats my shoulder. "You sure you're good, though? We can wait a few more minutes for you to unwind."

"I'm fine," I reply honestly. "I actually feel a bit lighter. Thanks for listening, Sam."

Sam grins. "I'm actually a pretty good listener when given the chance." The smile leaks slowly off his face and he eyes me warily. "Hey, but there is one more thing before we go inside."

I raise my eyebrows.

He clears his throat. "You know, you're about to learn a lot about Bucky, and it's gonna be heavy stuff. Just remember the guy you know now, alright? The things Steve might tell you…well, just keep in mind who Buck is now. He's not the Winter Soldier anymore."

I frown. "I'm not going to run away screaming if that's what you're worried about. James doesn't scare me, and anything I learn about him isn't going to scare me either."

Sam nods. "No, I believe you, but I just wanted to give you a head's up. You're messed up, I'm messed up, hell, even Steve has all sorts of issues. But…the Winter Soldier? His story will…well, it'll put a lot of things into perspective."

"Okay," I respond decisively, opening my side door. "Let's go."

i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i

I've read about the Avengers' compound in the newspaper, I've seen images of it on tv, but nothing compares to walking through the door. It's gigantic, to start, resting on acres of beautiful green land. The inside is open, bright, airy, and almost feels bigger than the outside. The moon streams through the large glass-paned windows, illuminating the already lit up entry way. I could spend hours exploring this place, and probably see only half of it.

"Does Captain America know I'm coming?" I half-whisper.

Sam rolls his eyes at me. "You can call him Steve. And yes, of course he does."

I glance nervously at the staircase. "Is anyone else here?"

Sam shrugs. "I think Tony and Pepper are out of town, which is good for you, since Tony can be a lot to handle. Nat and Wanda are probably upstairs, Vision and Rhodey too, but I doubt you'll see them. Everyone at this point has settled in, just kinda doing their own thing."

I nod. "Okay. And you live here too?"

He grins. "Yes I do. It's a pretty sweet deal."

I arch an eyebrow. "Rent free?"

Sam gives me a funny look. "I save the world alongside a billionaire. Damn right it's rent free. C'mon." He nods his head towards the stairs, leading me up to an open living room area. There are couches, televisions, wide windows, and of course, a full bar. I clear my throat in discomfort, but am soon distracted by the man rising from the leather couch in front of us.

He's as handsome as the pictures, blonde haired, blue eyed, with perfectly chiseled facial features. His muscular chest and arms strain against the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and when he walks towards us I admire the rippling of his abs under the cotton. He's gorgeous, a war hero, and a superhero. Plus, he's a true gentleman. What's not to love?

"Kaila," Captain America says in greeting, stretching his hand out. I take it, allowing his palm to completely engulf mine. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

I nod. "Likewise. I've read so much about you. It's truly an honor, Captain." I can see Sam shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. Whatever. I can fangirl as much as I please.

"Well, I appreciate that. And you can just call me Steve."

Sam mouths 'I told you so' at me, but I ignore him.

Steve smiles, releasing my hand. "Though—" He gestures for me to sit on the couch across from him. "—I wish we were here under better circumstances."

I sink onto the couch, Sam next to me. "Me too."

Steve sighs, glancing at Sam. "Sam told me you have a lot of questions. I hope I can help answer whatever you need to know."

I swallow. "If I'm being honest, I don't really know where to start. I know about James' past with you and I know after his fall Hydra turned him into the Winter Soldier. I guess I'm curious as to where he stands right now."

"Well," Steve clasps his hands, forearms resting on his knees. "We were able to find him, which wasn't easy. He had been on the run for awhile, trying to regain his memories. We experienced a lot of complications along the way, but he ultimately decided that he wanted to go under cryo to get the Winter Soldier taken out. There were people who tried to use him against the Avengers, and he didn't want to be a risk to anyone anymore. The operation was successful, so now there's no possible way for him to become controlled like that again. He works with the Avengers, he fights on our side, and he's just trying to fit his way back into a normal life."

I frown. "Then why did he tell me was a murderer? If he can no longer be manipulated by Hydra why did he make it sound like that part of him still exists?"

Steve sighs, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "And this is where things get complicated." He sighs again, making eye contact with Sam before meeting my gaze. "He's filled with more guilt than you, or I, or anyone, could possibly understand."

"But he must know it wasn't his fault," I counter. "He was controlled by Hydra. There was no way he could have stopped them."

Steve shrugs. "He knows. But it doesn't matter to him; he partly blames himself for everything that's happened. He lost all his memories when Hydra froze him, so he didn't know exactly what he had done, but now they're finally starting to come back. He can remember everyone he's killed."

I put a hand over my mouth. "Oh my god."

Steve nods. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "I have my best friend back, and don't get me wrong, I still see that guy from Brooklyn. He's in there, I know he is. But now…as I'm sure you can imagine, he's got some serious demons. The worst part is that there's not much I can do to help him."

I nod, sympathy welling up at the sight of Steve's drawn face. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that's like for the two of you. You must have missed him so much."

Steve grins slightly. "Of course. He's the best friend I've ever had, along with this guy right here." He nods at Sam, who smiles back. "I understand him better than I do myself and vice versa. He knows things about me that I'd never tell anyone else. A bond like that…we're with each other through it all."

Steve's face softens as he eyes me. I resist the urge to squirm under his appraisal, suddenly reminded of my untamed hair and lumpy body. I hope he's not wondering what his best friend sees in me. "You know, Bucky cares a lot about you. I've never seen him so excited about anyone before."

My stomach flips upside down and my face burns. "Yeah, well. I don't know what happened there." I run a hand over my face in frustration. "I just don't get it. Why would James push me away? Maybe it's stupid, but I thought he and I had a pretty great relationship. I mean we…" My face reddens, recalling his soft lips on mine and the warm pressure of his hands on my back. "We…could be something. And he pushed me away after telling me the truth."

I glance up at Steve, still self-conscious under his intense blue gaze. "I've told him a lot about myself, things I've barely told anyone. I have uh," I scratch my head. "Problems that I've been transparent about. I won't delude myself into thinking they're on the same scale as his, but I thought we were able to share things with one another." I lift my hands, letting them fall back into my lap. "I'm just confused, that's all. I don't understand why he tried to scare me off."

Steve frowns. "He told me you kicked him out after he told you the truth."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, because I was so pissed!" Steve winces, which further irritates me. These men and their old-fashioned ways. "He was trying to tell me how to feel about the situation, telling me that if I were smart, I'd be scared of him. I hate being told what to think about something. I hate it. So yeah, that's why I made him leave. I couldn't listen to that anymore, and I had a lot to think about."

"And what do you think now?" Steve asks.

"I think he's an amazing person, a person that I want to continue to foster a relationship with and get to know better. I also think he's a victim, and that he needs to be supported, not condemned."

I sit up a little straighter in my seat, lifting my chin. "I'm actually working with a professor at Columbia on a project about genetically modified soldiers, and the Winter Soldier is our topic—"

"Wait." Steve holds up his hands. "You're working with Dr. Branch on the Winter Soldier article?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Yes, I am. As of today, actually. How did you know about that?"

"Tony." Steve shares a concerned look with Sam. "He told us about a professor at Columbia who was looking into Bucky's story."

"…And that's a problem, why?" I question.

"We don't fully know if Dr. Branch can be trusted." Steve explains. "We're pretty protective right now as far as Bucky is concerned. He's…I don't want to say fragile, because he's not, but he's…I don't know…he's…"

"Just stick with fragile," Sam cuts in. "Maybe we'll think of something better later."

"I wouldn't worry about Dr. Branch," I say, ignoring Sam and holding Steve's gaze. "We're writing the article and conducting our research with the intent of portraying the Winter Soldier as an anti-hero, meaning he'll be a sympathetic figure for our readers. I won't let any harm come to him, I promise."

Steve nods. "I trust you. I know you care about him as much as I do."

"I really do," I reply. "I just wish he trusted me."

Steve shakes his head. "It's not about trust. Bucky doesn't feel like he deserves anything good in his life. He has more self-loathing than any of us could even imagine, and he lives with that hatred every single day. Sometimes," Steve's eyes shine slightly. "Sometimes I worry that if I hadn't found him, he wouldn't be here right now."

I blink a couple times, trying to process Steve's words. "You don't think he'd…kill himself, do you?"

Steve shrugs. "I hope he wouldn't. I don't think he would now, because I don't think he'd want to hurt me, but yeah, sometimes I worry about it. Or at least I did, until you came into the picture."

I sit back, putting a hand on my chest. "Me?"

Steve grins. "Yeah, you. I've never seen him happier than after the first day you two hung out and watched that World War II show. He couldn't stop talking about it."

I laugh softly at the memory. "Yeah, that really was a great day." I gaze down at my scuffed up Vans, then meet Steve's eye again. "I want to fight for him. I think he and I could have something really special, and…I want to be able to show him that he deserves a whole freakin' lot."

"I don't know if James told you, but he's taken care of me in times that I needed him most." I hold eye contact with Steve, hoping he can see the pure, raw emotion in my eyes. I need him to know I'm being genuine with my feelings for his best friend. "To me he's compassionate, and generous, and understanding. I feel safe with him, not because he's strong or anything, but because his presence naturally calms me. When I'm with James, I don't feel as broken. And I guess all I want is to make him feel the same way. I know he can't be fixed, but I think I can help him heal."

Steve beams at me, reaching across the coffee table to gently squeeze my hand. "I couldn't agree more."

We sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds until Steve asks, "I have to know, though. How did his past even come up? Weren't you two on a date?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh my god, it was the stupidest thing. He reacted weirdly to me saying 'fuck' and was all 'I'm not used to women speaking like that', which was super strange to me, and then it just spiraled from there."

Steve looks sheepish. "Well, it is hard to get used to."

"Oh my gosh," I resist the urge to fall back dramatically in my seat. "Not you too!"

Sam chimes in, chuckling. "Steve doesn't even swear himself. He hates it when anyone swears at all."

I laugh at the sight of Captain America, my icon, blushing. "I'm sorry!" He exclaims. "It was a different time, okay? We were all polite back then!"

"And sexist," I reply, arching an eyebrow.

Steve puts his hands up. "Okay, okay. I know. I know it wasn't perfect. Believe me, a lot has changed for the positive since then."

I wave a hand at him. "No need to explain yourself. I was just picking on you." I arch an eyebrow, grinning. "I know we're here for serious conversation about James, but I gotta ask…do you have any funny stories about him? Maybe things I can pick on him for later once we're back on good terms?"

Steve smirks at Sam. "I can see now why you two get along." He grins back at me. "Well, since you've asked…there was this one time when we went to Coney Island, and Bucky…"

I settle comfortably into my seat, smiling as I watch Steve animatedly describe past experiences of him and James. I love their friendship; it's so pure, loyal and steady until the very end. I can tell how much Steve loves his best friend just by the way he talks about him, and I'm sure if I asked James about Steve, he'd react similarly. Maybe they're not brothers by blood, but they're brothers just the same.

Now all I have to do is convince James that I can be someone for him to lean on, too.