Mind buzzing with the details that she wanted to put in her report about Barnes, Natasha finished dressing, picked up the notes she'd already made and then headed to the kitchen. In the common room she stopped in her tracks. Clint was sprawled, fully dressed, face down on one of the sofas, right arm dangling to the floor.

"Did you and Phil have another fight?" She was certain he wasn't deeply asleep.

He groaned, turned over, and put his hands over his face. "Might've been easier if we had." He sat up, stretched, ran a hand through his spiky bedhead, and cussed tiredly. "I can't do it, Nat. Can't have him finally saying the things he should have told me weeks if not years ago, and then just...sleep."

She sat next to him and lay the sheaf of papers containing her notes next to her. "You're emotional and physical and you react."

He nodded. "That woman is evil."

"Woman?"

"Mockta."

"As in, Mrs. Potiphar evil?"

He shook his head. "Nurse Ratchet evil."

Natasha grinned. Clint elbowed her. "Don't you dare laugh. I'm suffering here."

She patted his shoulder. "I've seen you truly suffer, moy brat, and this is not it."

He made a face. "Thanks for the understanding and support."

"You're just frustrated. I remember a time when you would have given your left arm to have Phil there frustrating you."

His hand went to his inner elbow and he sucked in a breath. "I could hardly believe it," he muttered, "when I saw the calls from him. I was shocked when I saw him and—" He exhaled heavily and scrubbed his hand through his hair again.

"Hurt?"

He nodded. "And furious."

"Well, sure. But weren't you also relieved?"

He leaned against her. "I sometimes still can't believe he's alive," he whispered, eyes closed. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and this will all be a dream and I'll be back to the nightmare of reality."

"Have you told him that?"

He shifted to look at her. "No. I guess Phil isn't the only one who should've said things weeks ago."

Natasha flipped through the papers that contained her notes and found a blank page. She handed it to him.

He stared at it. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Don't you have a homework assignment to express and record your feelings, and another one about communicating?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So make notes for a journal or write Phil a letter or something."

"Writing isn't really my thing. I was thinking of trying painting or embroidery or something." He wiggled his fingers restlessly.

"Writing involves working with your hands too. Hell, try calligraphy." She stood up. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make you some coffee."

"And bagels." He got up and followed her.

"You deal with those."

"You never were very domestic."

"I'm a trained killer." She arched an eyebrow at him as she pushed open the door to the stairwell.

"Like being an assassin somehow negates the ability to cook."

"Lucky for both of us, you're a good cook."

"Only because one of my first damn assignments out of the academy was at a fucking cooking school."

"Undercover chef." She snorted. "Sounds like a new reality show."

"I would watch that."

"I know you would."

When they got to the kitchen they found it already occupied: Steve and Bucky, Tony and Pepper, Jemma and Fitz arrayed around a platter of bagels and a bowl of fruit, paying no attention to the TV someone had bothered to turn on.

"So, no, I actually, I have no idea why we call it football," Tony was saying to Fitz around a mouthful of bagel.

Pepper pushed a mug of coffee toward her boyfriend. "Nothing more than another excuse to be different than Europe. Personally, I prefer soccer. Morning, Tasha, Clint."

Natasha and Clint said their good mornings as they poured coffee for themselves. Clint located a cutting board, examined several serious looking knives, then made for the fruit bowl.

Jemma said, "Y'know, James, Coulson was saying last night that you might know some helpful information."

Steve scowled but Bucky just exhaled and said. "I still sometimes don't know my own name. I'd like to be helpful, but I don't see how I can be."

Steve and Tony both eyed Bucky thoughtfully. Jemma took a sip of coffee before speaking. "You seemed to know your way around a Hydra installation yesterday."

Bucky nodded slowly. "I could probably draw maps, at least partial maps, of several Hydra compounds. I don't know where all of them are or if they still exist."

"That would be a great start," Jemma said.

"I can help with that," Steve said. "We can use one of my new sketchbooks."

Bucky touched Steve's arm. "One of the bigger ones. I need large sheets of paper." Bucky glanced at Natasha. "I don't want to be questioned by her though."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

Bucky turned back to Jemma. "But I will talk to the Colonel—uh, what is he really?"

"Director." Jemma smiled. "Director Coulson. I'm sure he'll appreciate you talking to him."

Clint wielded a chef's knife with stunning speed and accuracy, creating apple slice bunnies, chrysanthemum oranges, plum slices arranged in a star shape in a bowl and the shape filled in with raspberries, and a basket from a cantaloupe.

"Hey,"Steve said. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Clint pushed the plum and raspberry star toward Steve. "Undercover chef."

"New reality show," Natasha said.

"Awesome." Fitz accepted an apple slice bunny. "What channel is it on?"

"Most likely Food Network," Tony said.

"How d'you know that?" Pepper said.

Tony shrugged. "I get bored when you aren't here."

"Aw, that's sweet," Jemma said.

Pepper grinned and patted Tony's arm.

Steve pushed his bowl of artfully arranged plum slices and raspberries toward Bucky. "You should try this." He looked at his friend. "Hey, Buck?"

Vacant gray eyes staring off into the distance, Bucky didn't move.

Tony snapped his fingers several times in front of Bucky. "Earth to Major Tom."

Pepper grabbed Tony's arm. "No more coffee for you."

"Fine." Tony sat on a stool and slumped against the island. "I'll just sit here and mindlessly watch the morning news."

Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Hey, buddy. Time to come back." He shot a look at Natasha. "Don't try anything."

Natasha twirled a knife between her fingers. "I'm just putting cream cheese on a bagel."

Jemma patted Bucky's hand. "You don't need to worry about talking to Coulson. The Director can be a great listener."

"Yep," Clint muttered. "Not so good with the talking part though."

For several minutes, people ate and drank coffee while Steve hovered in concern near Bucky. Jemma clasped Steve's arm and steered him toward the refrigerator. "You need to eat more. And take vitamins."

"I need to stay near him."

"We're just going across the kitchen."

Steve was jumpy but cooperated with Jemma while she picked out a quiche to heat for him. "James might like it too." She put the deli made quiche in the microwave.

"Can I have more orange juice?" Bucky said.

Steve rushed over to him. "Are you all right?"

Bucky looked puzzled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Tony whooped suddenly and jumped up off the stool. "All right! That breaking scaffolding isn't far from here. Jarvis, get a suit ready." He strode toward the door.

"Yessir," the A.I. responded.

Pepper stopped Tony. "Where are you going?"

"To save some people!" The billionaire gestured at the news on TV. "It's been a little dull around here lately. Cap, you should come too. Do you good."

Steve looked from Tony to Bucky and back.

Bucky sighed. "I wish I could leave the house."

A look of revelation came over Pepper's face. "You can." She went over to Bucky. "You're doing so much better, I think it's time for an outing. I have theater tickets for night after tomorrow."

Bucky considered her. "A play? What kind?"

Tony pushed Steve's shoulder. "Come on, Cap. Those people need us and there isn't much time."

Steve looked at Bucky calmly talking with Pepper before he nodded and followed Tony out.