We were escorted to the nearest station house to give our statements. I'd been highly amused, though careful not to show it as we were walked through the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the building. Every news station, both local and national, had some sort of representation on site. We ignored the questions thrown our way as we were taken to the waiting unmarked SUVs provided by DHS while the tactical teams were placed in a police van cuffed and weapons confiscated.

Neither of us being the trusting sort, we insisted on being there in person when they were processed. I had no interest in having them magically disappear en route. Agent Miner did us one better and we literally followed the paddy wagon to the station and stood there as they were marched in and placed in a holding cell for processing.

"Well, this was fun."

Steve snorted. "Your version of fun leaves much to be desired."

"Says the man who used to fight in back alleys to make a point."

"Ouch," he faux winced. "Low blow."

I sidled over to him in the busy room. "How's the head?" I gently ran my fingers over the bandage the EMT had put on the wound the damn taser had caused.

"Been better, been worse. Not an experience I want to repeat, I can say that for certain."

"Whoever designed those things..." I shook my head.

"Miss MacMillian, Mr. Gallagher."

We both turned to see Agent Miner and Detective Fowler, the latter of which I knew, standing nearby. Fowler appeared reluctant to interrupt my conversation with Steve. "You ready for us?" Steve asked.

Fowler nodded. "In the conference room if you would."

Steve set a hand on my back as we followed the two men into the conference room. I glanced over at my team, who were giving statements with other officers, getting nods from them. They knew what needed to be done and we could only hope it would do any good.

"Sit, please," Fowler told us as Miner closed the door.

"So, what do you need to know?" I took a seat, Steve settling in the one next to me.

The two men looked at each other before Fowler ceded the initial questioning to Miner.

I had to wonder what deal the two of them had come to for DHS to not take control of the whole investigation. Not that I would have allowed it, I wanted this out in the public eyes, I wanted that spotlight aimed directly on Ross and that meant getting the ops team to rat him out. Pass that buck up the food chain rather than risk being made scapegoats.

"You knew they were coming." A statement.

"Yes."

"How?"

I glanced at Steve. "I'm good at my job?"

"You sound uncertain," Miner stated.

Fowler snorted. "She's not uncertain. She's trying to be polite."

Miner sighed softly. "So, you let them destroy your home just to make a point?"

"Something like that," I responded, getting a frown for my seeming flippant response. "Look just ask. I'll answer." Steve nudged me. "Within reason, that is."

Miner narrowed his eyes but nodded. "What did they want?"

"Who," I corrected. "And that would be my daughter and me."

"Why?"

"Because of who her father is."

"And who might that be?" The curiosity almost outweighed the need for understanding why a highly skilled black ops team had invaded a home in New York City.

And lost.

"Steve Rogers."

Miner blinked. Twice. "As in-"

"As in Captain America," I elaborated, "yes."

Fowler whistled. "I take not that many people know."

"That would be correct," I agreed. "And I hope to keep it that way."

Miner's lips pressed into a thin line. "So who found out that shouldn't have?"

I didn't bother beating around the bush and simply told him, "Thaddeus Ross."

"Do you have proof?" Miner asked, his look intensely curious.

"Circumstantial, but yes," Steve responded.

"And who, precisely, are you." Miner turned that focus on Steve who didn't flinch the least little bit.

"Steven Gallagher."

Miner huffed out a breath of irritation. "I know that. Who are you to her? To them?"

"My boyfriend," I responded, making sure to sound confused as to the relevance of the question. "Why?"

"Just trying to understand why he happened to be at your home for this invasion," Miner explained, and while valid, it clearly was not what he really wanted to know. "The father of your child is Steve Rogers and you're dating him, why?"

Fowler coughed delicately. "Steve Rogers is dead."

"And," I put in before Miner could make some snarky commentary, "he knew nothing about her. We'd gone our separate ways before either of us knew I was pregnant."

Miner's eyes looked off into the distance for a few seconds as he processed what he knew about me and my life. "Battle of Wakanda?"

I nodded. "We ran into each other there, so to speak, and surprise."

"I find it hard to believe you never told him."

I shrugged. "Circumstances, including my injury, led to us not coming back into contact with each other." The truth, if not all of it.

"You didn't see him at the big battle last year? I heard you and your team were there." I wanted to glare at Fowler, but if he hadn't asked Miner would have.

"Did I see him? Yes. Did we speak to each other? No. I don't think either of you truly understands the utter chaos of that battle. We all had our roles to play, mine happened to be a more minor one until after the dust settled."

"Ah yes, when your Expendables were hired to deal with the dig," Miner stated with a nod that seemed to be more to himself than me.

"Exactly," I agreed. "We expanded that role when we contracted temporarily to the Avengers. That role did not include anything militant. We supervised the dig and set up the training parameters for the new recruits."

"A contract you recently broke, from what I have heard." Miner wore an oddly smug smile.

"I enacted our out clause, yes."

I saw the virtual light bulb go off behind his eyes. "Can I assume Ross was the reason you did so?"

Again I shrugged. "Yes."

Miner shook his head. "What an idiot."

Steve snickered. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I have more of an idea than you might imagine," Miner responded. "Your daughter is safe?"

"Yes." I had no intention of giving him even the slightest hint of where I had hidden her on the off chance he might be one of Ross's pawns.

"Good. Keep her that way." He paced the length of the room. "Ross is going to try to sweep this under the rug."

I glanced over at Steve who nodded. "He won't be able to."

"Why do you say that?" Fowler asked.

I smiled. "Because right about now any and everyone of importance in the government is receiving a high-quality video of the incursion which includes an implied admission of who ordered it. Never mind all the news outlets worldwide receiving the same. Ares?"

"Sent upon your arrival at the police station as requested."

Miner's cell vibrated just then much to his dismay. He pulled it out, eyes going wide at whomever the caller ID revealed. "I have to take this."

I gave him a magnanimous nod as he stepped from the room.

Fowler chuckled. "How did they kill the power to your building? You've been off the main grid for a couple of years, haven't you?"

I grinned. "Timing is all. When you know they're coming and their playbook..." I spread my hands. "It's not like they even tried to hide their staging area very hard. Did they get the extraction chopper off the ground?"

Fowler shook his head. "It's still sitting atop the building where your people found it. The team there were encouraged to leave, tails tucked firmly between their legs. Thanks for the heads up, by the way. I don't want to think about the panic this stunt of yours could have caused."

"Least I could do. You routed the 911 calls from the building to a separate switchboard I take it?"

He nodded. "Didn't want the real emergency system flooded with... they weren't really fake calls were they?"

"Nope," Steve responded. "How many additional ones did you get?"

"Over a hundred at last count. People notice when a building goes dark these days, add in the obvious muzzle flashes... We take care of our own. Especially our heroes."

"I'm just me, Max, I don't expect special treatment here."

He hand-waved my argument. "And you won't be getting any. You are not in trouble. You kept the damage both property and physical to a minimum just as you said you would. Hell, you did what you always do, painted a big ol' target on yourself, and kept the trouble away from the rest of us."

"Learned from the best," I reminded him with a smile.

Miner came back into the room then pocketing his cell phone. "You weren't kidding were you?"

"No. He went after my daughter, what was I supposed to do, roll over and show my belly?"

Steve choked on a laugh at the mere suggestion. "Myls, you don't know how to do that."

Not entirely true, as I had a backup plan that involved getting her someplace secure and out of the purview of the US government. "How much trouble am I in?"

Miner shook his head. "They don't want to touch this. There's a half dozen agencies already readying statements to disavow any knowledge of this op."

"No one's gonna point a finger at Ross?" Fowler asked.

"Officially, probably not. Behind closed doors though..." Miner met my eyes. "Your family should be safe for now."

I did not sigh in relief since I didn't yet have a good reason to. "Now is a start. Next time I won't be so polite about how I push back."

"I'll let my superiors know." He turned to Fowler. "Once they file the formal paperwork they are free to go." Then to me. "If I have any other questions I'll go through proper channels to contact you."

"That works," I told him.

He stepped forward, hand out. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss MacMillion."

I stood and shook his hand. "Agent Miner." He gave me a last once over and then left the room. "Huh."

"Huh?" Steve asked.

"I suspect that man was on a fishing expedition, but I don't know if it was about Ross, or me."

Steve frowned not liking that bit of information. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

I nodded. "And plan accordingly."

Fowler cleared his throat. "I'll need official statements, which shouldn't take more than an hour, and then you can get out of here."

Now I did sigh. "Yay, more paperwork."

Steve snorted.

. . .

Once freed we permitted ourselves to be stopped by the media that had gathered outside the police station to answer a few questions. We gave them the bare facts only and straight out accused Ross of being the one to orchestrate the attack and attempted kidnapping of my daughter. When they pressed for more info I suggested they ask Ross and ended the impromptu interview. We all headed to the pair of SUVs I'd arranged with the service my family used and who had no problems picking us up any time of day or night. They were professional and discreet.

The majority of the crowd had left the area surrounding my building, but a few stubborn ones had stuck around and called out questions which we pointedly ignored. The penthouse remained a crime scene and we weren't allowed inside, but we'd planned for this. The various team members would be staying in other apartments in the building. Steve and I would be cleaning up and leaving to join Sara. I refused to arrive still bloodied. Not that I had more than bruises, but Steve's shirt had been liberally stained with his blood from the pair of injuries. The head wound had bled profusely and discolored the entire left side of his t-shirt.

We each grabbed a quick shower, I rebandaged his head wound, which had begun to bleed again, and then we snagged the go bags we'd packed and headed out. The team had their orders and would keep us updated while we were gone. After getting some well-deserved rest.

The car service drove us to where I'd parked the quinjet, which I had arranged with Fowler prior to the events of the evening. The police line tape and cones had kept people at a distance. It had been a few years since the Avengers had been based in New York so the sight of a quinjet had become less common, though during the Snap years we'd often used this very spot as a staging area.

Ares opened the rear door for us and Steve stored our bags while I headed to the pilot's seat to get us off the ground. Once in the air, I said, "Ares, same as the last trip, stealth protocol and avoid any modified radar."

"Yes, ma'am. Flight time is just over three hours," Ares informed us.

"Is that the best we can do, Myls?" Steve complained, and while I also wanted to get to Sara soonest, I refused to risk being tracked and accidentally revealing where she'd been staying.

"Yes. Need to obfuscate the trail to protect not only her but those helping us." I spun the seat around and got up. "I want to be there now too, but I want to do it the right way." I set my fingers under his chin and encouraged him to look up at me. "She's safe, and I need to keep the people she's with safe too."

He leaned into me, burying his face in my abdomen and wrapping his hands tightly about me. "I know. I just don't understand why you won't tell me where she is."

"Because I'm mean?" I suggested.

He grunted and tipped his head up to look at me with a frown. "Apparently I don't like not being the one in charge."

I held his face in my hands, running my thumbs across his cheekbones. "Compartmentalization was required this time. Next time-"

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I hope not, but never say never." I leaned down to rest my forehead against his. "This will work. It has to work. Otherwise..." I trailed off, not wanting to admit the possibility that even this bold move could also fail the same as many of the plans in those other timelines had.

Steve's lips pressed against mine for a moment. "If Ross comes after her again I'll call Bucky myself."

"Hopefully it won't come to that." I kissed him then shifted to sit on this lap just wanting to be held for a little while. At this moment I just wanted to be Myla and Steve, worried parents, not Expendables, not ex-Avengers, not two people who regularly carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. My cell, which I had been ignoring for hours, vibrated just then and I pulled it out of my pocket to see what I'd missed now.

The most recent text made me snicker causing Steve's brow to knit in confusion so I showed it to him. "Fury seems to approve of our efforts."

It was a short text with the words 'good work' followed by a crying with laughter emoji.

"If Nick approves then Ross is probably feeling the heat right about now." Steve reached out and took the phone from me, turned it off, and set it aside. "Later. We can deal with the fallout later."

"Of course," I agreed. "What shall we do instead?"

He kissed me again, but it seemed to be more for closeness than to start something. He smelled of distress and worry and oddly enough relief. He needed comfort, not sex. "Honestly, a nap. You've been going for at least two days straight."

"Ares is a fine pilot, he'll warn us of any trouble. There's not a lot of room, but we've got pull-down bunks for the injured, we could curl up together on one."

"That'll work." He shifted his hold and stood up with me in his arms.

"Steve," I squawked, "I'm fine. You were the one that got hurt, remember?"

He set me down in the back of the 'jet and hit the switch for the makeshift bed. "Considering the headache I still have I won't forget anytime soon."

"Damn," I muttered, fingers going to his temple and running lightly over the bandage stained with blood. "Naptime it is." I urged him onto the bunk and followed after. We shifted for a few moments until we'd both achieved a reasonably comfortable position on the bunk built for one, but rated for the weight of the Hulk. "Ares. Knock twice please."

"Understood. Shall I contact you an hour out?"

"That works. Fly safe, Ares."

"Of course, ma'am."

Steve turned his head slightly to kiss me on the temple. "Sleep, Myls, it'll get us closer to our daughter that much faster."

Hard to argue with that logic.

. . .

False dawn had not yet touched the sky when I settled the quinjet behind the screen of snow-laden trees. Steve stood behind me, watching out the window, recognition and no little surprise on his face.

"I told you Clint owed me a favor."

He snorted. "Yes, you did." He kissed me on the cheek. "Sorry I doubted you."

"Well, I might forgive you eventually," I grumbled, not that it mattered any longer. He'd had every right to be concerned about my plan, but he should have trusted me.

"You already have, doll." He held out a hand for me to take, which I did far more graciously than my irritated tone implied. "Let's go see our girl."

Clint sat on a rocking chair on his expansive porch next to a portable heater sipping a cup of what I presumed to be coffee when we arrived after slogging our way through the knee-deep snow. "Morning, Myla, Cap."

Surprised, I twisted about to look at Steve and confirm that his Gallagher disguise remained intact. It mostly did. Since in my mind I always saw my Steve I hadn't noticed that both the right cheek piece and the forehead section had stopped working at some point in time. "Well, shit."

"Myls?" Steve questioned.

"Sections failed. I thought I saw it back at the penthouse, but I logged it off to being smacked upside the head." I rubbed at the scar, where the hit had connected and winced. I had a bruise under the hair that would serve as a reminder of the adventure for a few days anyway.

"Oh, you guys don't know," Clint stated in that droll tone of his.

"Don't know what?" I asked in exasperation wondering when else the veil parts might have failed.

Clint shook his head. "It can wait. Go see your girl. Lila insisted she bunk with her. Upstairs down the hall."

We endeavored to be quiet given it was insanely early, but still rushed up the stairs and to the bedroom. We cracked open the door to see the two girls on the bed, Lila facing the door, putting herself between Sara and anyone who might enter.

Lila's body tensed and her eyes slit open even as her hand slid unobtrusively under her pillow, probably going for the weapon she'd stashed there. I'd only met her the one time when dropping Sara off, but I seriously doubted she'd forgotten who I was in the interim. I put a finger to my lips. "It's okay Lila, we just want to check on Sara."

Lila nodded, pulled her empty hand back into view, and relaxed enough to yawn. Steve and I entered the room and circled around the bed to see our unconscious child, her blonde hair a tousled mess on the pillow. I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek causing her to mutter something unintelligible and rollover.

Beside me, Steve sighed in obvious relief then urged me away from the room so Lila could go back to sleep. We went back downstairs and outside to settle into chairs next to Clint who had fresh cups of coffee waiting for us. I sipped at mine as I leaned back into the cold wood of the chair and let it rock back. "Clint, I owe you one."

"Nah. Happy to help. She's a good kid." His chair creaked as he slowly rocked. He wore a heavy sweater and had a blanket draped across his lap in defense against the cold. "Lila took it upon herself to play protector. Looks like you might have a babysitter should you need one."

"She wasn't too much trouble?" Steve asked, knowing Sara could be a handful when she wanted to be.

"Nah, fit right in with the crowd. I hope you don't mind, but Lila pulled out some of her old archery gear and was teaching Sara. She's a decent shot for a first-timer... and why are you laughing."

"Oh, she played you but good, Clint. She's been shooting for a couple of years. I caught hell from Tony when she taught Morgan without either of us knowing about it." I glanced over at Steve as I realized there were entire aspects of our child's life he had no inkling of. "I never did figure out how she snuck the gear into her suitcase, no way it should have fit."

Clint smiled. "I should have known something was up when she learned as quick as she did." He leaned his head back against the upper part of the chair. "Then again both of her parents learn damn fast, so..." He shrugged. "Cap, take that damn mask off, you won't need it here."

Steve muttered something I didn't quite catch and did so, placing the nano-veil bits atop the table where the oversized mugs of coffee rested steam rising from them in the wintery air. "You knew it was me even before we realized the damn thing was on the fritz, how?"

Clint nodded then tipped the chair precariously forward to pick up the tablet lying upon the wood flooring of the oversized porch. He tapped it to life, scrolled a bit then handed it over. "You are trending."

I leaned over to take a look while Steve read the commentary next to the hashtag #steverogerslives with a frown that deepened with every new one that appeared. "Shit."

"Take a look at the video. Looks like the veil crapped out a couple of times while you were on camera." Clint casually waved his free hand at the tablet while he sipped the coffee with the other.

"Ares," I said to the air, knowing even this deep in the middle of nowhere, the AI would hear me.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Let's get to work on making this appear to be a deep fake video, I want it discredited by the evening news. Put Hamlin and Corsair on it, with your able assistance of course."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Hourly updates if you would. I can't wait to hear how Ross et al are reacting to this going international."

"Sent to your phone?"

"That'll work. Thanks, Ares."

"At your services as always, ma'am."

I snorted at the sarcasm in his tone. Clint gave me a confused look. "Ares is being a smartass as usual."

"Well, you programmed him that way, you can't be that surprised by it."

While not wholly wrong, the computer had changed quite a bit since the early days of the Expendables. No longer used solely for war, and he ran a vast portion of our infrastructure, much as JARVIS or FRIDAY had done for Tony once upon a time. Hell, I'd spun off two separate versions of him in the last few years to run different aspects of the businesses I oversaw.

"Fuck," Steve grumbled.

"Language," Clint responded with, getting a surprised chuckle from Steve.

"How bad?" I asked, leaning over again.

"Bad enough." He turned the tablet so I could see the video for myself. Or should I say videos as the failure of the veil had been caught by several different cameras and angles, some even showing the shimmer of the veil as it tried to do its job and failed spectacularly.

"Huh. I'll have to modify the veil to account for power surges," I observed.

"That's all you get out of this? That you need to fix the nano-veil?"

"Cap, do I still call you Cap?" Clint asked mostly of himself, then shook his head as he realized it really wasn't that important right now. "She's got her team working on it. Even I know if they discredit it too quickly it'll look suspicious. Hell, if she spins it right, she can blame it on Ross, using it as a justification for trying to steal her daughter."

Steve bristled for a moment and I could see him wanting to change the 'her' to 'our', but he caught himself. "Because the world thinks I'm Gallagher and he is not Sara's biological father, right." He let the tablet flop down onto his lap and rubbed his face with the now free hand. "Damn it. The world needs to believe I'm dead, Clint. That's the only way this works."

Clint nodded slowly, but it was a voice from behind us that responded.

"Not everyone wants to, Steve."

We snapped about to see Laura standing in the doorway, the squeaky screen door still closed, which is probably how she managed to sneak up on us all unawares. She held a carafe that most likely held fresh coffee in one hand and a mug in the other.

"Sorry to wake you, Laura." I stood up and opened the door so she could join us.

"Not a problem, I kind of figured the two of you would be here as soon as you could get free." She set the carafe down, leaving us to serve ourselves then settled into the rocking chair next to Clint. She wrapped her oversized sweater closer and added the blanket. "You give people hope, if believing you might still be alive gives them that, where's the harm?"

"I just want my daughter left alone, if they even think I'm still alive they'll go after her forever." Steve sounded oddly wistful, plainly appreciating Laura's far different perspective of the situation.

"And why is that?" Laura asked, truly curious.

Steve and I glanced at each other, before he answered, "She inherited more than my blonde hair, she's serum enhanced."

Laura made a soft oh as understanding dawned. Clint didn't seem the least bit surprised. "So? Isn't that to be expected, the changes are part of your genetics now, right?"

Steve nodded. "It wasn't expected at all."

"And why wouldn't you expect-" Clint's words cut off as his mind processed everything. "How did you get home? Last I heard you never came back from your trip to return the Stones." Clint's eyes tracked from me to Steve and back again. "Myls."

I put my hands up in surrender. "Not my story to tell."

"Yet," Steve added.

"Yet," I agreed.

"Man, if you think you can't trust us..."

Steve shook his head. "It's not that. It's..."

"Personal," Laura observed and not incorrectly.

Steve sighed heavily, took a few moments to refresh his coffee then said, "Instead of coming back here I went home and married Peggy Carter. Lived my life with her."

Clint's chair stopped moving, the sudden silence almost louder than the creak of the trees in the predawn night. "Wait, and you're not old?"

"I was. Looked like a man in his nineties or thereabouts."

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through to pictures from Sara's birthday almost a year ago and held it out for them to see.

"Jeez, how old were you really?" Clint asked, having a clue or two about how Steve aged.

"Very. Returning the Stones took a bit longer than planned."

"But you're not old now?" Laura sounded rightfully confused.

Clint snickered. "Nat told me about what happened to Lang." He narrowed his eyes. "And you did it voluntarily?"

Steve hooked a thumb in my direction. "She did the math," He said as if that would explain it all.

"Theoretical," I argued. "Theoretical," I repeated, emphasizing each syllable. "It was never supposed to actually get used." Granted there had been days I thanked any listening deity that he'd done it, but the risks had still been horrendous. "He somehow convinced Barnes and Wilson to give him access and," I gestured at him dramatically, "the rest is history."

"Well, that's one way to prove how he feels about you," Clint commented offhandedly.

"Flowers might have been a bit safer," Laura pointed out causing me to snicker in reaction.

"I'll remember that next time," Steve noted with a sly grin.

"Next time?" I squeaked. Yes, we could do it, but I remained unsure if we should.

Clint rocked forward and stood placing the blanket on the seat. "You guys are welcome to stay till the excitement dies down."

"We can't put you out like that," I argued. "We'll head to Hilton Head after breakfast."

"First, you're not putting us out, and second, you don't want to be anywhere near any of your regular haunts, either of you."

"Why not?" Steve asked.

"Fuck," I groused, and reached for my phone which I'd set on the table. Steve had turned it off on the flight here, not wanting to have the phone buzzing every few minutes with the fallout until necessary, our only care in the world getting to our daughter. I'd known we'd be out of the apartment for a few days at the very least as it was an active crime scene, never mind in need of major repairs, but the failure of the nano-veil had been a factor I'd been unable to account for. When the phone lit up, there were dozens and dozens of missed texts and calls. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Ares."

"Yes?"

"Let the team know we're fine." I glanced over at Steve then stood and trotted down the porch steps and off into the darkness away from the lights being thrown across the snow, suspecting my voice might end up a tad raised at some point in the near future and not wanting to disturb the still sleeping children inside the house.

Behind me I heard Laura say, "We'll go start some breakfast, join us when you're hungry." A few seconds later the sound of the screen door squeaking open and thudding shut echoed across the field.

"What's gone wrong?" I asked in irritation of the night air, my breath creating a fog in the cold air.

"A whole lot," Steve stated, I hadn't heard him follow after me my dander was so up but there he was holding the tablet out to me.

"The press has discovered who Sara's father of record is," Ares informed me. "And due to the suspicion that Mr. Gallagher is in actuality Captain Rogers, the press and others are looking for him as well."

I scrolled down the page, the headlines more than enough to make me angry as all hell. "Who leaked the info?"

"Probably Ross," Steve suggested.

Ares did the same. "Agreed, but not directly, backtracing the info from the recipients most assuredly leads to government-sanctioned communication."

"Does he really think that by telling the world who she is that they'll forgive him for trying to kidnap her?" I snarled.

Steve grabbed the tablet from me before I could accidentally fling it across the field. "Take a breath. She's fine."

"For now. Damn it. Ares, send a team to wherever my parents currently are. I know they're good at wrangling the press, but let's create a buffer zone for them shall we?"

"Jacobson has already done so in your stead since he knew you would be incommunicado for a time afterward."

"Thank god for small favors," I muttered. "What a fucking mess."

"Myls, most of the reactions are decidedly in our favor. Even the few who think Sara should be overseen by the government - via the Accords most suggest - completely disagree with the method used. She's a child and can't make a decision on the Accords anyway."

I huffed out a breath of indignation. "Last I checked the Accords were in a giant limbo thanks to Thanos, using them for a justification is asinine."

He stepped up to me and set his free hand on my shoulder. "I'm not disagreeing, just telling you what's being said." He glanced down at the tablet for a long moment then shut it off. "Ares, I think a media blackout is in order. Unless it's of actual importance, meaning life or death, consider us off the grid for the next forty-eight hours. Let Jacobson and MacKenzie know."

Ares did this odd hum then asked, "Ma'am?"

I watched Steve and considered his idea, fully realizing that all I would do was stress and worry and try to control a situation that ultimately couldn't be. "Do it, Ares."

"Yes, ma'am. knock three times?"

"That works," I agreed. Then to Steve. "Now what?"

"Now we relax for a few days and figure out where we're going to go from here."

I rubbed my face with my hands, pressing the heels of them against my eyes harder than necessary, but in an effort to release the aggravation and worry still churning in my gut. "Bold assumption that I know how to relax these days."

He snorted and encouraged me back towards the house, but instead of mounting the steps to return to the rocking chairs, he sat down on them. He stretched out his full length, heels planted in the thin layer of snow that had blown across the pathway and leaning over on one elbow. I was too damn wired to settle and therefore paced back and forth in front of him, his eyes tracking my every movement in a way that was oddly disconcerting.

Good thing neither of us were affected by the cold overmuch. The jackets we had put on before exiting the quinjet would be more than enough for a while.

"I was thinking..."

"About?"

"Well, when we get back your place is going to need some serious work before it's livable again."

"I am aware. I was planning to stay at the house in Hilton Head, but that's not gonna happen if the press and who knows who else will be hounding me." I had known this would draw attention to me, giant spotlights of attention, but I hadn't planned for Steve to end up in the crosshairs as well. At least not as anything other than the poor schmuck of a boyfriend who happened to be there when the shit hit the fan. "I'll probably just move into one of the other buildings in New York for the time being. I've been wanting to make some changes, anyway, might as well do the renovations now as later."

"Or you, the both of you that is, could stay with me for a while."

I stopped dead and turned to face him, but he had turned away, finding the grain of the step far more interesting. "What?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I am quite certain between Ares and your techs no one will believe that I'm Steve Rogers, video evidence or not."

"Someone will always believe," I reminded him.

He nodded slowly. "True enough, but the spotlight on me will be much dimmer. Especially once your team starts turning ours on Ross."

I wanted to argue the point, but he wasn't wrong. If someone didn't demand a congressional committee over the incident, I personally would. "It may be weeks before the interest dies down though."

"So? We can travel during the interim. Start the process of the Expendables next phase in earnest. I can guarantee Sara's school will let her do the work virtually considering the issues."

And with that my one valid argument melted away. Given I'd planned on doing precisely that from South Carolina, I couldn't really argue the point. "You don't exactly have room, though."

His eyes flicked up to meet mine for an instant. "There's plenty of room. Sara feels safe there, and since I don't sleep as much you can have the bed. You'll need to share the closet, though."

"But her bodyguards?" I tried, in a last-ditch effort to justify my staying elsewhere.

"None of the other apartments have tenants... In fact, I recently purchased the other one on the top floor to use as a studio. I can always just expand the apartment, take over the entire top floor."

I chuckled. "You made that purchase?"

His head came up, eyes narrowed. "Wait? How do you know about it?"

"I own the building." I laughed harder. "Dear god, if I had known it was you... I'll give you credit, you did a damn good job making certain the purchase was not connected to you in any way."

"Then why did you sell it?"

"My dad is handling the business for the buildings in New York and he assured me that the buyer had an impeccable reputation and I believed him. I just had to sign some papers. The sneaky shit."

Steve chuckled softly. "That explains why the price dropped after I expressed my initial interest, he must have figured out who put in the offer."

I nodded in agreement. "My dad is a shrewd businessman. As to your offer, I'll consider it."

Steve frowned at me and I took a moment to understand why.

"Not like that. Really consider it. There are some logistics issues I'll need to work out."

"Like what?"

"Transport to school for one. We'll be almost an hour away by car."

"Oh. Still, we can work it out. Maybe reinforce the roof of the building so we can park a quinjet up there."

I blinked in surprise at the audacity of that not so horrible plan. "Are we really thinking about doing this?" I questioned of the stars high over our heads.

"I believe we are." He shifted, digging a hand into one pocket. "Remember when you told me that we went to Vormir in another timeline?"

"Of course. What about it?"

"Well, I wanted you to know that it wasn't the only time I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"You have asked me to marry you. In Central Park. A few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten already?" Even I could hear the snippiness sliding into my tone.

"I almost did once before."

I shook my head, not really believing him. I wanted to call him a liar, but nothing about him suggested he was. I went for full snark. "Oh really? When?"

"The day we signed the papers for the apartment." He met my eyes for a second then looked away. "But you had to leave for the op right after so I'd decided to wait until the day we moved in."

"Only we never moved in."

He nodded and pulled his hand out of his pocket holding a ring.

"You did not go out and buy me that just to make a point."

"No. By some miracle It was still in the place I'd hid it." He got to his feet and walked over to where I stood unmoving in my stunned realization of the truth. "I'm not asking you right now, we agreed to reevaluate in six months and there's still a couple left, but I needed you to understand that it wasn't something out of the blue, or out of a sense of obligation." He hung his head, fingers wiggling the ring back and forth so that the stones glinted in the light coming from the house behind him. It was not a traditional engagement ring, the stones inset into the band instead of sticking out, which would have been detrimental to wear in my then-current line of work. Hell, my current-current line of work. Even if I did nothing but train for the rest of my life - right, like that could ever happen - a prominent stone could easily get caught on things, and would not fit under the tac gloves I often wore. As always he'd thought ahead and took into consideration the reality of our lives.

I wanted to yell at him. If he had told me this months ago, I might have very well forgiven him for everything, let the pain and hurt go in the face of the realization that he'd had his plans burned beyond recognition much as my own had been.

Neither one of us had wanted to end up here and yet... yet, this had been the only path left to us thanks to all the obstacles that had been placed in our way. Somehow, after everything we'd ended up here. Together.

And I'd damn near lost him to a whim of happenstance just a few hours ago.

Apparently, it took a near-death experience for me to act on my feelings as well.

I came to a decision. One that I would not permit myself to run away from.

"Ask me."

His eyebrows shot upwards, but he didn't hesitate beyond that reaction. "Marry me, Myla."

I couldn't help myself. "I'll think about it."

"For fuck's sake," he complained, laughter bubbling up behind the words. He slipped the ring onto my finger then kissed me most thoroughly.

"About damn time," Clint groused.

We both turned to see him standing at the screen door, an ear to ear grin adorning his features for all his voice had been full of aggrieved irritation. "Breakfast is ready if you think you can drag yourselves away from each other for a few minutes."

"I think we can manage that," Steve answered, "we've got the rest of our lives, after all."

We climbed the stairs and grabbed the various coffee mugs and accouterments and carried them inside. We handed them over to Laura and shed our coats, the interior of the home noticeably warmer than outside had been. Granted, neither of us were bothered by the cold or heat over much, our temperature regulation as improved as the rest of our systems. But why wear the bulky coats if we didn't need to.

"So, guess who just got engaged," Clint chirped as soon as we had settled in the massive kitchen with fresh cups of coffee.

"About damn time," Laura said as she flipped the pancake out of the pan and onto the pile on the plate. "Bacon or sausage?"

I glanced over at Steve who shrugged. "Both."

Clint snorted. "Super Soldiers have super appetites," Clint explained at Laura's slightly astonished reaction. "Myls has been too busy playing guard dog for Fury to deal with her feelings."

I huffed in irritation."Thanks for reminding me why I don't hang out with you more than necessary, Barton."

Laura handed me a plate loaded with pancakes slathered in syrup which smelled like the real thing and a couple pats of softened butter. "I admit he is an acquired taste."

Steve snorted while Clint squawked, "Hey."

"Well, they didn't keep you around for your winning personality," Laura pointed out as she handed Steve his own plate.

I grabbed a fork and napkin from the pile on the counter and dug in.

"I was a SHIELD agent long before the Avengers," Clint groused, pouting until Laura kissed him on the cheek and handed him his own plate of breakfast.

"Yeah, you were," Steve agreed, "and you're damn good at what you do."

I nodded in agreement. "Speaking of which, if you ever get bored give me a call, I'm certain I can find something for you to do." Laura froze for an instant, the smile fading before being replaced by a clearly fake one.

"And by that she means training," Steve stated, completing my offer with what I thought to be obvious and had clearly been misinterpreted by both of them.

"Training only," I reiterated. "You can come to us or vice versa, we could use a neutral third party location. Whatever you needed to make certain your home remains safe."

Laura sighed softly. "Well, it would keep him from renovating yet again."

Clint glowered at her. "The kids are getting older, we need to update for them. Nate is gonna grow out of that bed sooner rather than later. And having them all share a bathroom… that's an explosion just waiting to happen."

"Now you see what I'm dealing with." Laura waved the pancake whisk in Clint's direction leaving a trail of batter across the counter and floor.

"Clint, no one is holding you accountable for what you did those years," Steve told him and I knew he meant it.

Clint had lost everything in the Snap and it had changed him. Far deeper than just the tattoos he now hid with long sleeves. If Steve had been broken, Clint had been shattered, and, even over a year after he'd gotten his family back, the cracks in him remained easily visible. If it hadn't been for the fact that he and his family had probably been the safest place on the planet to hide Sara I would never have called in my favor.

Clint ducked his head unable to meet anyone's eyes. "I do."

Laura shifted over to his side and set her hands on his arm. "Don't do this. We agreed to move forward and not look back."

"She's right, Clint," I said softly needing to voice my opinion on the matter. I and my Expendables could have easily fallen down the same rabbit hole he had during those years. Hell, we were a fucking army and could have staked our claim on the whole of Manhattan had we wished to do so. "We had something you didn't."

Clint's head came up slightly, body tense, sharp eyes boring into mine. "Oh yeah? And what was that?"

"Hope," I responded and watched as the tightness flowed out of him.

"You don't understand," he shook his head. "You can't understand."

"Yes, I can. Nat and I talked, a lot, so I can say with relative certainty that, aside from some details, I do understand." My turn to look down. "If Lang hadn't shown up when he did…" I lifted my head to look Clint right in the eyes.

"What?" he questioned.

"Nat was ready to give up," Steve answered.

Clint's gaze wavered between the two of us until I nodded in agreement. "Fuck," he muttered. "No wonder she-" His words choked off and he didn't need to finish the sentence. We all knew how it had ended and why.

"Which means you shouldn't waste this second chance she gave you. Gave us." Laura had clearly made this argument before and it had also as clearly fallen upon deaf ears. Maybe hearing it from us, from those who could potentially cast the most blame, offering instead forgiveness, maybe it would permit him to finally forgive himself.

His head swung over to his wife. "Yeah, maybe."

"Clint, I'm sorry we fell out of touch," I told him, realizing I should have done better across the board no matter how busy I might have been.

He shook his head. "I wanted out and you didn't. Plus Fury has kept you… distracted."

"Well, not any longer. If you need anything, and I mean anything call me, damn it. Hell, if you want to be off the grid, and I mean off, I can arrange that."

Clint and Laura looked at Steve. "She's not kidding. She apparently spent the last several years designing alternative power systems," he confirmed.

I nodded in agreement. "Wind, solar, arc reactor, even Ares is available to you if you want it." The couple looked at me with somewhat dumbfounded expressions. "Just think about it."

"I'm not an Avenger any longer, Myls," Clint reiterated.

"Neither am I, but we both know if they need us…"

"You'll go. All three of you," Laura finished, knowing it would happen. "Because that's who you all are."

"I smell bacon."

All of our heads whipped about at that sleepy voice to see my daughter standing in the doorway rubbing one eye.

"That would be because there is bacon," I told her as I walked over, picked her up and gave her a hug. "Sorry, to wake you, munchkin."

"S'okay," she yawned, "I was hungry anyway."

"Your kid eats like a horse, Myla," Clint stated even as Laura shifted to prepare a plate of food for her.

"I eat like a superhero in training," Sara responded as I set her down on the bench in the eating nook. I attempted to tame the blonde hair that had gone every which way as she slept until she batted my hands away.

Clint actually snorted at her comeback and carried the plate of food over and set it in front of her. "I'll remember that in the future."

"As you should," she preened then snagged the nearest piece of bacon and bit down with intent.

Clint laughed softly. "Your kid is going to be trouble."

"She already is," Steve noted with a smile.

I met Clint's eyes and he gave me a nod, confirming we'd talk more at some point in the future.

"All right, let's get settled and dig in before the rest of the kids wake up." Laura had grabbed a couple of the plates and urged us to sit down, then joined us herself. "You two get to cook for the rest of them."

"Can I help?" Sara asked.

"Of course," Steve answered. "Seems fair, since we'll be staying a couple days."

"Yay," Sara cheered without raising her voice much. "I like it here. They're like us."

"Yeah, I suppose we are," Clint acknowledged.

He gave me a long look then dug into his food. I had hope that our visit here would help him to finally heal.