A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.

Note 2: This story is being revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 37

Without looking at him, Maria added over her should, "Sorry about the trip. I'll pay you for the tickets, and take my things out of your room tomorrow."

She walked away, leaving Steve standing in the empty cafeteria, one hand reaching out for her. He would've followed, but sensed she needed to be alone for a while. Maybe in a day or two, she'd be ready to talk again.

Vermont

After their first sparring session, James and Natasha agreed to add it to their routine three times a week. Natasha used it as a way to help him control and direct his aggression and anger, and to de-stress. It seemed to be working. In the times when he was left on his own, James seemed more relaxed, less on edge. Now it was time to start introducing him to the public outside of the general store where they shopped and bought gas.

Tomorrow, they would have a meal at the bar and grill, listen to music, and observe the interpersonal byplay between the genders, specifically body language, and those subtle clues people use to communicate without conversation. She'd also encourage him to ask someone to dance. She would have to keep her instincts on alert for trouble, but that was a small price to pay to know that he could handle himself with strangers without needing a buffer.

Natasha stretched her tired muscles while James showered and dressed, then got her own shower. When she returned to the living room, he was standing with the front door open buttoning his shirt.

"Tuck your shirt in and grab your jacket, Barnes. We're going out to dinner." For a moment, he looked at her as if she were nuts. He wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. Then his expression changed to show not excitement, but curiosity.

"Why?" he asked as he went into his room, coming out within seconds.

"Don't feel like cooking tonight." James followed her to the car, getting into the passenger seat as always. Once on the road, Natasha tuned the radio to a station that played Stark's favorite music, and turned it up loud. Though she liked to pretend to be more musically sophisticated than the billionaire, she enjoyed listening to high-energy tunes now and then.

She chanced a quick glance at James. Every few seconds, he winced, as if the screaming guitar riffs, bass and crashing drums were physically painful. Taking pity on him, she changed to a country station. "Better?"

"Yes." He visibly relaxed, turning sideways with his left arm over the back of the seat. "What was that?"

"Heavy Metal. It's a music genre where loudness counts as a virtue. Some names you might want to remember are AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, KISS, and Iron Maiden, especially if you meet a man named Tony Stark."

Shifting in his seat, James looked uncomfortable. "They won't be playing it while we eat?"

"I doubt it." Reba McEntire came on asking if there was life out there. Natasha adjusted the radio's volume. "This isn't just about dinner. You have to get used to being around people you don't know. Observe how they relate to one another. Talk to them, even if it's just to order a beer, or to ask a woman to dance."

James's expression was dubious. He didn't want to do it; that much was obvious. But she knew he would because she asked him to. She'd been through this before with lower level agents and a few marks. He had a crush on her. Or at least the start of one.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Second Chance Bar and Grill, cruising between the rows of pick-ups and SUVs until she found a spot that suited her requirements. It had to be where she could see it from inside and provide an easy escape route, just in case.

At the door, she gave James a quick onceover, adjusting his collar, and giving him an encouraging pat on the chest. "Try to smile, and if you have any questions, just ask."

He nodded and reached past her to open the door.

~~O~~

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, James wiped away the condensation that obscured his image, revealing his face a little at a time. He rubbed his right hand down his chest, feeling the roughness of new hair growth, a reminder of when his chest had once been covered with dark hair, and the reason Isolde had given him the nickname My Little Bear. Whatever his captors had done to stop the growth had finally worn off.

He pulled a t-shirt on as he opened the door and went into his room to finish getting dressed. Natasha was just putting on her ball cap and jacket when he came out.

Soon, they were in the SUV and on their way. She turned on music that hurt his ears and made him feel angry when he had no reason to be. Then, she changed stations, and while it wasn't what he was used to, it was tolerable. After a while, he began to enjoy what Natasha called country music, though not as much as jazz.

She parked the car, and at the door, she adjusted his collar, resting her palms on his chest for a moment. It felt intimate and James wondered how he could get her to do it again.

The interior was dimly lit except behind the bar and over the tables. As always, Natasha chose a table where she could see the exits and still have her back to the wall. They ordered beer, burgers and fries.

When they finished eating, James thought they would return to the cabin. However, Natasha seemed content to sit and listen to the band play, her eyes sweeping around the room while appearing to be only fractionally interested in her surroundings.

Then, she leaned close, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. "There are a lot of single women in here. You should ask one to dance."

James felt anxious in the way one did when your instincts told you something bad was about to happen, and his were telling him this wasn't a good idea. He would do it because Natasha asked him to, because she only wanted to help him become a part of this world again.

He breathed deeply, and finally began to relax when the lights dimmed over the dance floor, signaling a slow song. Natasha touched his hand. "Go now. Remember to smile, introduce yourself and ask her name, say something nice, don't hold her too tight. When the song ends, escort her back to her table, and remember to thank her. If she asks about me, make something up."

Pushing back from the table, James stood and moved around the room nodding to the women until one smiled at him, and he returned it. She wasn't what he would call beautiful, but she had pretty eyes, green like Natasha's, with blonde hair instead of red. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure. My name's Bethanne. What's yours?"

"James." He held out his hand. She took it, and drew him after her to the dance floor. Taking his cue from the others, he put his hands on her waist when hers touched his shoulders. They swayed side to side, turning in a circle. Say something nice. "You have pretty eyes."

Bethanne giggled. "Thanks. Never seen you here before."

"Never been here before."

She moved a little closer, pointing with her chin. "Who's that girl you came with?"

Natasha had told him to make something up, so… "Cousin."

"Not a girlfriend?"

"No."

James stiffened when Bethanne's hands squeezed the upper edge of his backside, and her thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. He knew women were bolder now, and was at a loss as to what his response should be. Then, over Bethanne's shoulder, he saw Natasha dancing with a stocky, bearded man. They were talking and laughing. James didn't like it, though he wasn't sure why.

The song ended, and he was about to escort Bethanne back to her table. However, Natasha and her partner stayed on the floor, so James did as well. The next song started, and he changed his hold to the more traditional pose he remembered. She didn't seem to like the touch of his metal hand covered with a glove, giving it an odd glance.

As they moved around the floor, he listened closely to the lyrics to the song about two men as close as brothers, reminding him of the fight with Steve on the ship and dragging him ashore after the crash.

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where

But I'm strong,
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So, on we go.
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there

For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
And love for one another

The song struck a chord, a good one, reminding him of Steve. Then, he saw the man dancing with Natasha whisper something in her ear that made her laugh.

James abruptly pulled away from Bethanne, and without a word of apology, left her in the middle of the dance floor. He pushed his way through the crowd, grabbed Natasha's hand, and dragged her out the front door to the SUV.

Natasha jerked free, those green eyes blazing. "What are you doing?"

"Take me back to the cabin." He went around to the passenger side, waiting impatiently for the door to be unlocked. They got in, buckled up, and James turned toward the window, not saying a word for the entire ride. He didn't feel like explaining the conflicting emotions circling inside his head. Frustration, annoyance, anger, all mixed up with the affinity he felt with Natasha. And there, on the periphery, an emotion he couldn't remember ever experiencing before: jealousy.

James had no way of explaining his feelings and actions to Natasha, so when they returned to the cabin, he went into his room and shut the door.

~~O~~

The hour was late when Natasha pulled up to the cabin and turned the engine off. The SUV hadn't even come to a stop when James opened the door and got out, taking the stairs in one bound. He left the front door open, and as she reached the porch, Natasha heard his bedroom door slam and the lock click. It disturbed her because he hadn't locked his door in weeks. Standing in the hall, Natasha listened for movement, hearing nothing, not even the creak of the bedsprings.

James had not spoken since the order to take him home, reminding her of how he'd been during the fight on the bridge. Thinking back to just before, all Natasha could remember was the song that was playing and laughing with her dance partner. She booted up the computer and did a search for the song's lyrics, skimming through the verses.

It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share?

And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

She could see how he would be affected by the words, but she knew it was only part of the problem. James had been jealous that she was dancing with another man and having fun. There was nothing she could do to make it better for him. That wouldn't happen anytime soon, if he wouldn't speak to her. The best course of action, at least for now, was to leave him alone, wait for him to make the first move. Natasha was patient, but only up to a point. If James didn't come around in a couple of days, she would force him to talk to her.

After getting ready for bed, Natasha once again listened at the door, knocking lightly. "James? If you want to talk, I'm here for you, day or night."

There was no response, so she set the alarms, turned out the lights, and went into her room. Hours later, she was awakened by the flushing of the toilet. She briefly considered confronting James in the hall, but that could lead to trouble for both of them. Turning onto her right side, she listened to the night and kicking herself for knowing this might happen and not caring.

Secret SHIELD Training Base

Several Days Later

Maria had left to keep up appearance at Stark Industries and was due back today. Hoping to speak to her, Steve stayed in the cafeteria as long as he could, knowing she would want coffee before going to her office. Eventually, he headed for the gym for hand-to-hand practice with his trainees.

Hours later, he returned to his room for a shower. Before she left, Maria had removed all her belongings that had accumulated in the closet and on the dresser just as she said she would. Her personal items were gone from the bathroom as well, though it still smelled like her citrus basil shower gel. The same scent was on his pillow and sheets. It kept him awake at night.

He needed advice again, but didn't know who to call. Thor and Stark were the only Avengers in any kind of long-term relationship. The Asgardian had returned to his homeworld amid rumors of a possible war. And Stark… Steve decided to turn to the billionaire for advice only if he were desperate, and he hadn't yet reached that point.

The hollow feeling in his gut had more to do with needing to eat than the thought he might lose the woman he loved. Steve had always known he would have a fight on his hands with Maria, and he was nowhere near ready to throw in the towel. When she realized that helping her mend the relationship with her father proved his love wasn't simple attraction or a passing phase, maybe then she'd come around. Until that happened, Steve resigned himself to spending his nights alone.

He ran a comb though his hair and put on his sneakers for the walk down to the cafeteria.

Standing in the doorway, his eyes swept the room. Though it was dinner time, the room was nearly empty. Earlier, Steve had been invited to ride into town with a group of trainees to watch the last game of the World Series. The Yankees weren't playing, so he politely declined.

In a dim corner, Maria sat staring at her tablet, occasionally sipping from a mug of coffee. A plate of food sat untouched. In the time they'd known each other, he'd gotten good at reading her moods, even when her mask was in place. Something was wrong, and he intended to find out what it was.

Steve helped himself to a variety of items from the line, and carried the tray to Maria's table, waiting for her to invite him to join her or send him away. She looked up then back to her tablet, and he took that as permission to stay.

By the end of his meal, not one word had passed between them. Maria got up for a refill on coffee, and returned, sliding into her seat without speaking. At one point, she took out her phone, letting her thumb rub over the screen as if she were trying to decide if she wanted to make a call.

The phone clattered on the table and she pushed it away. Steve caught it as it slid off the edge, placing it in front of her without a word. The next time she reached for it, he snagged her hand, refusing to let go until she acknowledged his presence. "Whatever's wrong, Maria, let me help."

Maria shook her head, and that's when he saw the slight redness around her eyes. Others might attribute it to lack of sleep, but he knew different.

Steve gathered up the remains of his meal, added Maria's dishes to the tray, and carried it all to the pass through. He returned, holding out his hand, and she took it after a slight hesitation. She followed along as he pushed open the door leading to the outdoor obstacle course.

Once outside, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and started walking. They came to the end of the field where a picnic area had been set up out of sight of the main building. He sat down on one of the benches, and she joined him. They'd been there for a while, the night quiet except for the sounds of animals in the bushes and the rustle of the leaves in the cool breeze when Maria finally spoke. "Let's go to Chicago now instead of Thanksgiving."

Puzzled and not wanting to show it, Steve nodded. "Okay." He paused, trying to work out what had changed her mind about going in the first place. "Why the change?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glanced at him and away. "I called Celia."

"Who?"

"Celia Montgomery. She's been Dad's accountant since I was a child." Maria took hold of his hand, gripping it tight. "My father's been diagnosed with terminal cancer."

Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and kissed her temple. "I'm sorry. How long?

"A year, maybe two."

"When do you want to leave?"

One shoulder went up then down. "Tomorrow. Can you change the flight?"

Holding in a grin, Steve took out his phone, using the speaker so Maria could listen in. "It's Steve. I need another favor."

"Speak and it shall be done, Old Man. It's not like I have anything else to do than wait by the phone for your call." The sarcasm in Stark's tone had an underlying note of weariness telling Steve he had interrupted something important. Too late now.

"Could we get the use of the plane tomorrow instead of Thanksgiving?"

He heard voices in the background, then Stark came on again. "Jarvis is taking care of it as we speak. Any time after sunrise."

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"More than one, but who's counting? Give Hill my regards."

The line cut off, and Steve put the phone away, turning a smug grin on Maria. She slugged him on the shoulder. "I can't believe you lied to me."

"As lies go, this one was small. Ready to go in?"

She shook her head. "Let's stay here for a while."

He picked up her hand, keeping hold as she snuggled closer. The warmth of her body made Steve feel loved, even if she never said the words.

Fall in Virginia was cool enough for a sweater, peppered with periodic rain. Same for Chicago. The forecast for the coming week said sunny days and cool nights. He made a mental note to include a jacket in his luggage.

The sun went down, and it was full dark by the time they returned to the base. Steve didn't assume that Maria would want to stay with him. Still, he was disappointed when she went into her own room and shut the door.

Sometime later, there was a light knock at his door. Steve stuck a bookmark to hold his place and set his book aside. Maria was at the door. She turned to go, and he grabbed her hand to stop her.

"Please come in." He led her to the small table while he sat on the side of the bed. "When my mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis, the doctor's tried to knock it out with antibiotics, but by that time, it was too late. She didn't have long and was isolated at the sanatorium. I wasn't even able to hold her hand when she passed." In his head, Steve once again heard Bucky's voice after the funeral saying he'd be with him to the end of the line, and wished he were here now.

Maria crossed her arms defensively, but didn't say a word. Wouldn't even look at him.

"I know you believe that caring for a father who seldom showed affection somehow makes you weak." Steve crouched in front of Maria, turning her to look at him with a hand on her cheek. "It doesn't. It makes you human."

Standing, Steve held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Maria took it. He got into bed and scooted to the wall, leaving the outside for her. She climbed in and lay down. Steve spooned her from behind, smoothed her hair away from her neck and planted a kiss below her ear.

~~O~~

The next morning, they drove Steve's car out the private airport, and were escorted onto the plane. The inside looked like a luxury hotel suite rather than transportation from point A to point B. An attendant took their luggage. "My name is Dominique. We'll be taking off in just a few minutes. Please have a seat and buckle your seatbelts. Once we're in the air, you can move about the cabin."

Maria made a show of not staring at the over-the-top opulence as she sat next to Steve. "How long is the flight?"

"About two hours, miss." Dominique returned to the front of the plane, and soon they were in the air. The attendant carried a tray with two tall, slender glasses. "Champagne?"

"Thank you." Steve handed one to Maria, keeping the other for himself.

"If you require anything else, please use the intercom."

Steve shifted in his seat. "How do we go about getting a rental car?"

The woman smiled showing straight white teeth. "That's all been arranged, sir. There's a car waiting at the hangar." She passed him a keycard. "Mr. Stark has also had his personal suite at the Belisarius prepared for your arrival."

He slipped the card into his breast pocket and waited for Dominique to disappear behind the cockpit door. As he turned, Maria tapped her glass against his. "Here's to having rich friends."

They drank down the champagne and set the glasses on the table. Steve stood up to take his jacket off, tossing it in an unused seat. "All I asked for was a ride to Chicago. Didn't expect all this."

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

Steve roamed the length of the plane, opening cabinets and peering out the windows. In the tail section, he found a double bed, and a full bath. He returned to Maria, now sitting on the plush sofa along port side. He dropped down next to her, his arm around her shoulders. "Should we take advantage of Stark's hospitality while we're here? Wouldn't want your dad to feel crowded or to be inconvenienced by guests."

He turned at the loud snort to find her grinning for the first time in days. "There's plenty of room, and we'll be expected to stay with him."

Maria pressed her palm to his cheek, urging him down for a hot kiss. That same hand blazed a trail down to the waistband of his pants to tug his shirt free. Steve grabbed her wrist. "What if the attendant comes back?"

She aimed a mock annoyed glance at him. "Don't you want to become a member of the Mile High Club?"

"If that's what I think it is," Steve got to his feet, taking her hands and bringing her up with him, "there's a bed in the back."

Moments later, they were on the bed with the door closed.

Private Airfield

Chicago

Maria was curled against Steve's side, his arm around her, fingers trailing up and down her bare arm when there was a knock at the door.

"Your pardon, but we'll be landing soon. The captain asked that you take your seats."

~~O~~

Steve followed Maria out to the cabin to their seats still tucking his shirt in. Maria finger combed her hair and called it a day.

The landing was smooth, barely a bump when it hit the runway. They coasted to a stop next to a large hangar, and soon the door was opened by Dominique. Stepping outside brought a chill wind pushing at them as a young man tipped his hat and held out a set of keys. "It's gassed up and ready to go, sir. With Mr. Stark's compliments."

Maria's clenched her teeth to keep her jaw from dropping. Steve didn't bother.

The car was obviously new, polished to a brilliant white shine, the sun glinting off the windshield and the custom rims. And Steve, he held the keys dangling from one hand as he pulled off his aviator glasses to get a better look. Maria took the keys, using the remote to open the trunk. They put their bags in and Maria got behind the wheel. "I'm driving."

"Yeah. Okay." They buckled in, and she started the engine. Its throaty rumble sent a thrill through her while Steve caressed the buttery soft leather dash. "What is it?"

"This, Captain Rogers, is a fresh off the assembly line Porsche 918 Spyder. Under that hood is an eight hundred and eighty-seven horsepower engine capable of reaching speeds of up to two hundred and eleven miles per hour. It does zero to sixty in two point two seconds." She gunned the engine, let off the brake and shifted into first.

"We won't be not going that fast, will we?"

Slipping on the set of designer sunglasses stuck in the cubby, she grinned. "Maybe. Hold onto your hat!"

~~O~~

If Steve had been wearing a hat, he'd have lost it on take-off. As she approached the VIP exit, Maria slowed down to a more reasonable speed, signaled and made the turn onto road that wound through a quaint area of town. When they reached the highway, she bumped their speed up well past the posted limit where they stayed until a motorcycle cop pulled them over.

"License, registration and proof of insurance please." The officer, mid- to late-thirties, African-American, lean and well-muscled, took the documents and turned to go back toward his vehicle, then stopped. "Maria Hill?"

"That's what it says, officer." Maria sighed and pulled her sunglasses down to get a better look. "Seth Crawford?" She scoffed. "Still setting speed traps for the tourists, I see."

Seth scowled at her tone as much as her words. "Stay in the vehicle."

When he was gone, Steve looked over at Maria. "You were going ninety-five in a sixty-five. That's hardly a speed trap."

"We went to high school together my senior year. He was a jock and a royal jerk because of it. Our relationship, if you want to call it that, started on a bad note, and went downhill from there."

They stopped talking when the crunch of footsteps on gravel came back in their direction. Seth held out the documents, still glaring. "Letting you off with a warning this time, Hill. Keep your speed down from now on."

"We'll see." She plucked the papers from Seth's hand and passed them to Steve. He put the registration and insurance in the glove box, and her license in the center consol. Seth signaled and pulled into traffic ahead of them.

On the road again, what good spirits Maria had bled away the closer they got to the neighborhood where she grew up. Suddenly, she jerked the wheel to the right, turning into the parking lot of a coffee house. She screeched to a stop so hard Steve's seatbelt locked, holding him in place. "Why are we here?"

"I need coffee before we beard the lion in his den."

They went inside, made their purchase and found a table. They'd only been there a few minutes when a wallet landed next to Steve's chair. He picked it up and turned to hand to an older man leaning on a fancy walking cane. The sixty plus man had silver hair and a penetrating blue gaze. In spite of his age, his back was straight though he walked with a slight limp.

Steve handed him the wallet with a smile. He nodded and pushed the expensive folded leather into his inside breast pocket. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." Steve noticed that the man was no longer looking at him, but at his companion.

"Hello, Maria. It's good to see you again after all this time."

Her eyes locked onto the man's without flinching, though Steve saw how her fingers clenched on the cardboard cup. "Hello, Robert."

When the man smiled, Steve knew who he was.

"Want to introduce me to your friend?"

Maria's eyes dashed from Steve to the man and back. "Steve Rogers, this is Robert Hill. My father."

Vermont

A Week Later

In the days since their night at the bar, James hadn't been able to sleep. Natasha had offered to be a sounding board, but how could he explain it to her when he didn't understand it himself?

They had continued with their daily routine though now there was tension between them that hadn't been there before, and James was at a loss to explain it. Inside his head, he saw two very different realities for himself. On the one hand, in some ways he was still the young soldier who followed his best friend into battle. He was also the deadly assassin, poised in the dark ready to attack when given the word. If Natasha knew of the conflict he lived with every day, would she still be here with him, or would she have left him long ago?

From what Natasha told him, and what he read on the computer, Steve had made an easy transition from '45 to the present. How did he live each day knowing what he'd lost? That everything and everyone he'd known was gone?

A memory came to him, a good one this time. He was in his Army uniform and Steve, as always, wore dull colored pants and jacket, a white shirt and black tie. They were with two girls, Connie and Bonnie. The foursome had taken the train to the Stark Expo where Steve once again tried to enlist. After the introductions, both women barely acknowledged Steve, though he didn't seem to mind as much as he had in the past.

He remembered hugging his best friend, the two of them exchanging friendly insults. James would call him a punk, and Steve would respond by calling him a jerk. It was a life-long ritual.

He snapped back to the present, listening to Natasha move around in the other part of the cabin. She had helped him so much these months, and he was more than grateful. However, he could feel himself wanting more from her than mentoring and friendship. If they stayed here alone for too much longer, just the two of them, James was afraid he would do something that would damage that relationship and her faith in him. At the moment, he didn't have enough friends that he could afford to alienate one.

What he needed wasn't here. Wherever Steve was, that's where he had to go, and Natasha would take him.

James joined Natasha in the kitchen, taking the knife and cutting up the vegetables as he'd been doing nearly every day since they arrived. She glanced at him, and went back to what she was doing as if these last days hadn't been a strain on both of them.

When the food was ready, they sat at the table to eat, moving to the sofa afterwards to watch a movie. Natasha chose something called 2001: A Space Odyssey. His mind drifted soon after it started, and the next thing he knew, it was morning. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa again, and like before, she'd covered him with a blanket.

Her bedroom door was still closed and he didn't hear her in the bathroom. Going to the kitchen, he started the coffee, and peered into the refrigerator. On this day of the week, she usually made omelets, but the one time he'd tried, it had been a disaster.

He took out the food leftover from the night before and portioned it onto two plates. Behind him, he heard Natasha come out of her room. By the time the food was hot and the coffee made, she was at the table. He set a cup of coffee at each place and went back for the food.

Once again, they ate in silence, and he found he didn't like it as much as he had in the beginning when he was getting used to being around people again.

James waited until Natasha finished eating to approach the subject of leaving. She got up and went to the sink with her dishes, and he did the same. As she turned to go, he took her hand. "Take me to Steve."

TBC

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother is a popular music ballad written by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell.

Is There Life Out There is a song written by Susan Longacre and Rick Giles, and recorded by American country music singer Reba McEntire.