A/N: Gentle reminder that I did put this in the tragedy category for a reason. This doesn't mean this chapter in particular is tragic, just saying it's not all fluff and sunshine. Also dropping a whole lot of comic tidbits in now; some are one-off mentions, so don't panic. If it's important, more will be explained and expanded.

CHAPTER NINETEEN- December 2038

"Ok, guys," Peter Parker started energetically, "I gotta get back to decorate the tree tonight, so here's what I got so far."

"Go ahead," Steve allowed.

"Bad batch of drugs is killing kidnapped homeless people, and now some of the same drug has been interspersed in huge illegal shipments around the world," Peter rambled.

"Why didn't we catch this earlier?" Bucky was given exactly the time it took to walk from the quinjet to this conference room to settle in. After yesterday's all-nighter and a long flight, he was in a sharp mood.

"I found out when I ran into two kids who were experimented on," Peter said.

"Romanoff and Thor got very little out of the drug's creator," Steve added. "We've had this professor in custody for a while," he continued, sliding a file over to Bucky, "and he's a full-blown nut job, with too many connections. It's been a joke trying to track all the crime this guy might be involved in."

"Seriously," Bucky mumbled, "I've been sunning myself instead of helping with this?"

"Buck, we've got dozens of agents," Steve snapped. He had rested no better than his friend. "T'Challa needed you more than us."

Bucky opened the file. "You have to be joking. D-Lite?"

"Yup." Peter checked his watch.

"That sounds like an off-brand soda."

Steve sighed in frustration. "Parker has two informants, Tandy and Tyrone, was it? They told us where the experiments took place, past tense, and now we are trying to help them control…whatever it was that triggered in them by this heroin substitute."

"Whoever it doesn't change, it kills flat out." Peter's face sank, knowing the stories he'd heard from his young recruits. "And it gets a little weirder because the survivors said that Professor Marshall was helped by a demon."

"What the hell—"

"Yup. Basically. Named despair, at least that's what Marshall called him, it, whatever." Peter looked at his watch again and punched in something on the table's comms. "And that's it for me, so Natasha can go from here. Bye." He bolted to the door, yelling a "Merry Christmas" to everyone on his path out.

Steve leaned over. "He told me earlier that Christmas is the only time his teenager isn't a 'total douche,' his words, so he's a bit excited to go home."

Nat's face popped up in familiar blue.

"Boys, I'm sending you new info that we've gathered, but," Nat paused, "this is a mess. Only a fraction of these shipments have been tampered with, and there is no way to test all of it. We've got to destroy everything we find. You can imagine how many friends we've made."

"And the other doctor affiliated with Marshall?" Steve sorted a few windows on his tablet.

"Clint was tracking Dorcas until the trail went cold. It's like he actually disappeared into the ocean. We asked King Namor to keep a guard up just in case. The Sub-Mariner said he'd heard a legend of D'Spayre," Nat cleared her throat, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but according to Atlantian lore, the demon D'Spayre was created from the fear their ancestors experienced when the whole kingdom sunk into the ocean. Hell of a bedtime story."

"Well, the devil attacked us last year, so…" Bucky was going to need some time to absorb all this, line the players up on the field in his mind. "Alright, let's get more details from Clint. Fresh eyes can't hurt."

"He's states-side now," Nat clarified.

Bucky looked at Steve. His friend shrugged. "And Sharon is waiting for me at the house," Steve said, tentatively, "her rule when I came back. Home for the holidays unless…you know, disaster."

"Guess it's just me, Doc, and Wilson," Bucky grumbled. "When does Stark get back?"

Nat pursed her holographic lips. "Gamora and Rocket send us subspace messages, but Tony's been out of range for weeks. There's a whole other problem…I'll have to…we don't know much, so I'd like us to wait for Stark to brief us. We've got enough to handle now."

"Fine," Steve allowed again, "keep us posted." Nat's form vanished.

Bucky leaned farther back in the conference room chair, sorting through what he'd just heard and known for a while.

"I think I liked being lower on the totem pole," he said tightly. "There was a lot less to worry about. Go here, kill this guy. Go there, one more. Chill out and do nothing for a few months—"

"Buck," his oldest friend interrupted, leaning forward with hands intertwined, "maybe you shouldn't joyfully reminice about single kills, yeah?"

Bucky swallowed inside his clenched jaw.

"For right now, I need you and Sam to work together," Steve continued.

"She's in Wakanda," he replied quickly.

"Actually, both of them. Big Sam seems to respond well to Little Sam, and I think she can help him focus during training."

"I should have just brought her with me," Bucky mumbled.

Steve sat up. "Wait. So who…"

It only occurred to Bucky as Steve trailed off. No one had invited Samantha home. No one had even thought to do so just in case. All the pieces moving on the chess board, and they'd swiveled right past her. Her only remaining family was zipping through space somewhere. Clint hadn't known he'd be back until the last minute. Natasha was flying around constantly. Bruce—

As if summoned by the thought, Banner pressed the door open with his back and looked up from his tablet. "Hey, gang, can we talk about Sam?" Bruce looked up over his glasses, unaware of his timeliness.

Steve's expression said it all. "Shit."

#####

Samuel Wilson shoveled food into his mouth as if he were starving. A few people wandered in and out of the kitchen while Bucky looked on, mortified.

"You're gonna get sick, buddy," Bucky said as if he too would be sick.

"I'm in training, man. I lost so much muscle mass—it's a bitch to put back on." Sam gulped from the huge water bottle he carried everywhere.

"Glad to see your mood improved after sleep."

"Bite me," Falcon coughed between fork-fulls.

He ignored that rousing invitation. "You seemed to respond well to Samantha," Bucky started.

"Lil' Sam," the hungry, hungry hippo corrected.

"—so I thought she could help us out the next few flights. What do you think?"

"Whatever." Sam continued to eat. Bruce had warned Bucky not to expect much real interaction from Wilson. After waking up, the onslaught of high brain activity had plateaued, and his personality was still recovering, if it was coming back at all. Wilson's moods still jumped around, and his focus was erratic. Bruce had suggested trying some unconventional, new methods of acclimating Falcon back into the team. This was as good of an idea as any other.

#####

To Bucky's surprise, Samantha jumped at the chance to help, and he could she her projection sitting on the disc in the yard as he and Falcon approached. He was even more surprised when Little Sam took the reins right away.

"Tell you what, Big Sam," she started, smiling, an odd thing to see for the first time on a projection. It seemed foreign somehow. "You beat me at cards, and you can skip flying today. Deal?"

Wilson perked up immediately. He stood straighter. He smirked. He bounced in his step, what he'd several times described to Bucky as 'swagger.' "You're on. That's what I'm talking about. See?" He glared at Bucky, "not everything has to be serious."

Samantha dealt cards onto her platform, scooting off to lean only her face and arms into the projection, and Falcon took off his flight pack and curled up in front of the circle like a kid with a new toy. Bucky watched for a few minutes. Wilson stayed excited, fun, sarcastic, and competitive, but even when Samantha had a good hand that beat his, Wilson playful congratulated her. He never got cranky; he never snapped at her. Bucky left them outside, keeping a watchful eye from just inside the building. He couldn't tell who was winning the entire time because they both seemed so genuinely excited for each other. The two Sams clearly joked and chided each other, talked animatedly, and finally, both threw up their hands in shock.

Samantha did a small victory dance while Wilson pressed his comm. "Alright, Barnes, it's flight time. Fair and square."

The whole practice was derailed by Samantha's intermittent challenges for Falcon to fly in a certain way or pattern, once was hands flat by his sides like Iron Man launching, another was a figure eight, but Bucky didn't mind as soon as he figured out what she was doing. He never caught her eye to confirm, but Samantha deliberately asked Wilson questions during flight, rehashed old memories, left small details for Wilson to correct. Bucky suspected she was testing him, yet Wilson became his old self for the first time in half a year.

Sixty minutes became ninety. Ninety minutes became three hours, and still Falcon flew strong. He'd successfully flown by neural link alone twice without noticing because Samantha suggested he show off his dance moves. After a particularly fluid, in-flight Bruno Mars' impression, Bucky clapped for Falcon's achievement, assuming Samantha was equally impressed. When her turned to look, however, she wasn't on the platform anymore. He could only see a combat boot on its side at the edge of the circle.

"Sam," he called, "did you trip?"

The foot did not move.

"Samantha," Bucky tried with more urgency, "are you okay? Say something. We can't see you."

There was a quiet moan, and the foot dragged off out of view. "Ow…"

"Seriously, are you alright?"

"Lil' Sam, come on. What's up?" Wilson sauntered up. "You still got two left feet?" Bucky could hear the calm tone, but Wilson's face showed only concern. They stood looking into thin air, helpless, unable to even reach out a hand.

Finally a hand stuck itself into their view and gave a shaky thumbs up. A strained chuckle vibrated through the speakers. "I—I—just I need to eat is all." Her voice was too quiet.

"What the hell? How long has it been since you ate?" Bucky put his hand to his forehead, demanding, "go into my place and eat something. You fainted."

"Yeah, I think I'll go lie down too."

"I'll send someone to check on you," Bucky added.

"No," Samantha said, leaning into the circle, her face stern, "I'm not built like you guys. I'll just rest and see you tomorrow." She switched off the platform from Wakanda.

"What's wrong with Lil' Sam?" Wilson stopped immediately in front of Bucky, so close Bucky could feel his breath. "Is she sick? Why didn't she come home? She should be here." The anger rose quickly in his voice.

Bucky raised his arms defensively without touching Sam. "Honestly, I don't know. I wasn't told to bring her back, and—" He stopped, himself a little hurt by the reality. "No one…" Wanted her home? That was a cruel way to put what seemed like a simple oversight. Asked her home? Did a Stark actually need to be asked to do anything? She could feasibly do whatever the hell she wanted, and did from what he saw. Remembered her? Bucky had to admit that he repeatedly forgot about Sam until he found a use for her today. "You'll see her tomorrow, Sam. I'll make sure of it. She's fine. I'm looking after her."

Falcon stormed off, knocking him against the shoulder hard as he passed. "You better," he hissed, and mumbled something about food on his way inside. The quick turn of his friend's dark mood shocked Bucky. They'd been doing so well.

Bucky thought back to years ago when Wilson had been so ashamed of falling out of touch with Samantha. How close had they really been? He flicked back through the recording of their card game.

"—I definitely taught you how to bluff better than that—"

"—when you trained me to beat Nate with that trick shot before his basketball tryouts? He was pissed for weeks—I studied all the birds around the farm. I was gonna tell you all about them on your next visit—"

"—I should have taught you a good punch for those kids who called you that—"

It reminded Bucky of all the fellow soldiers at Lehigh who took over parenting him after his father's accident. He had pieces of friendship and advise from everyone, but he remembered how sometimes the niceties only made him feel his loss more deeply. No single person could replace his father, and the more and more support he got, the more alone he felt when no one was around. His own father had died though; how did Sam feel knowing her father was still alive but took no part in raising her?

Bucky had always understood Stark's perspective, perhaps because he felt so deeply responsible for how Tony became the man he was. Tony lost his parents to violent, evil forces, and after a period of burying his head in a bottle, he worked constantly to stop that from happening to anyone else. It was a full-time, all-time, forever job that only grew bigger and more complicated as the years went on. Now Earth needed two super soldiers, demigods, aliens, lab-accidents, young drug-created recruits, and a veritable army of inhumans running whole departments in every region just to keep evil at bay. Giving up on that to raise just one child alone, without her mother, the love of his own life, was such a foreign skill-set, why wouldn't he have outsourced it?

After all the pain he put those he assassinated through, Bucky would never choose to be tortured by reliving what he'd done to their families. He would admit it, go through it for their benefit if he must, but if he didn't have to, he would hide in a shitty apartment in Romania. Which is exactly what he did once. So Bucky had never blamed Tony for living separately from his daughter. Bucky shoved his head in the sand, hoping the world would heal and move forward without him; Tony dove head-first into protecting the whole world and hoped his daughter would be safer for it.

She was safer, in a way, but Samantha wasn't really Tony's kid anymore. She wasn't really anyone's kid entirely, and even though the responsibility had been spread thin over a dozen or so people over the years, no one in particular claimed her. Big Sam and Little Sam had obviously started a friendship that looked like family, but it died somewhere over the last decade. Bucky stood mesmerized by the ease at which the Sams picked up interacting with each other; he'd never seen Samantha so comfortable, friendly even. It was a little unnerving, like watching a stage performance before the curtain closed.

The footage paused when a message from Samantha popped up on his tablet. "Big Sam counts cards without knowing it. Can be distracted from doing it, but is capable of complex cognitive tasks he could not previously do. Tell Bruce."

So, she really was testing him. Smart girl.