Steve returned from the hospital long after the sun had disappeared behind the trees. Completely spent from the events of the day, he said good night to Sam and Bucky and went directly up to his room, looking forward to a hot shower and his bed.

Natasha had already left for Iowa in the Quinn Jet, and Steve immediately missed the warmth of her next to him as he got under the covers. Thankfully, he was too tired to think much about her absence and within a few minutes was fast asleep

But sleep didn't last long. He woke with a start and rolled over to look at the clock on his bedside table. 1:30 a.m. He sunk back into the pillow and closed his eyes but suddenly felt wide awake. This was usually when he'd sneak to Natasha's room and slide into bed next to her, but since she was currently 900 miles away, Steve decided to take a walk around the property. He pulled on a pair of joggers, a hooded sweatshirt and sneakers and headed out the back door.

The mid-October air was just cold enough to send a shiver through him, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up around his ears. Steve hadn't had a chance to explore the property much since they moved in after the battle. The renovated farmhouse was a few miles from the compound, surrounded by a massive forest. It was the kind of place that was designed to be hidden to anyone who didn't already know where to find it. The sky was clear of cloud cover, and under the pale moonlight, Steve could make out the yellow, red and orange hues of the changing leaves. He made a mental note to come back out here during the day.

A gazebo was positioned in the center of a small garden near the edge of the property. As Steve approached, he noticed someone sitting on one of the benches inside the covered space. The shadowed figure looked up, and Steve immediately recognized him.

"Buck, what are you doing up?" he asked, settling in on a second bench.

Bucky closed the book in his lap and pulled his jacket zipper up toward his chin. Steve wondered how long he'd been out here.

"Eh, couldn't sleep," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Pretty standard stuff these days."

Steve offered an empathetic nodded, "You wanna talk about it?"

Bucky let out a quiet, slightly bitter-sounding laugh and flexed the fingers on his Wakandan-made limb, "I don't think you really want to know what goes on inside my head, Steve."

The lifelong friends had hardly spent any real time together in the years after Hydra fell. Wakanda was always a safe place for Steve, Nat and Sam while they were underground, but they didn't want T'Challa caught in the middle of it all, so they didn't visit often. Now that he and Bucky had yet another chance, Steve didn't plan on wasting it.

"I just want to know that you're all right," he looked closely at his best friend, and for the first time, recognized just how much Bucky had changed. Though still in fighting shape, he'd leaned out. His hair was much longer and currently pulled back off his tanned face in a low, messy knot. But most of all, Steve noticed the anger that once clouded his deep blue eyes was gone, replaced with something akin to relief.

Bucky sighed and brought his right hand up to pull the band free from his dark hair, "I've been thinking about cutting it off."

"Ok," Steve thought, "So he's not going to tell me what's bothering him."

He smiled at his friend, "I dunno. I kinda like the whole drifter Jesus look."

Bucky tipped his head back in an animated laugh. The sound cut through the quiet night air and filled Steve's chest with warmth and familiarity. This. This right here was why he fought so hard for his best friend.

"Thor did seem pretty excited to have another devastatingly handsome guy with great hair around," Bucky said, tucking a few strands behind his ear. "It's time though. New start, new haircut."

"Well, all right then," Steve said with a nod.

The pair existed in comfortable silence for a while, listening to crickets chirping in the trees around them. The longer they sat, the colder the air began to feel, and Steve wished he'd grabbed a jacket. He was lost in thought, the events of the last week swirling in his mind, when Bucky spoke again.

"Nightmares," he said, so quietly Steve almost didn't hear him.

Steve's eyebrows pulled together. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "You're having nightmares?"

"Yeah. I started having them after Ayo pulled the Hydra programming out of my head," Bucky's voice cracked with emotion. "I haven't been able to make them stop."

"They're about The Winter Soldier's victims," It was a statement, not a question, and Bucky nodded without meeting Steve's eyes.

After a beat he said, "I'm getting that pardon."

Steve's eyes widened. T'Challa had been working on a pardon for Bucky since before the Blip. Of course, that had been put on hold after they both dusted, so Steve was stunned to hear that it had come through so quickly upon their return. "Buck, that's great."

"Yeah," Bucky gave Steve a tight-lipped smile, finally looking up at him. "Yeah, it is. I'm not sure I deserve it, though.

"You deserve it."

"I've got six months of court-mandated therapy to go along with it."

"I think we could all use some of that," Steve said with a grin.

"No shit," Bucky said with a much more sincere smile. He paused before motioning toward the four-day old stubble on Steve's face. "Hey, speaking of hair, what's going on there?"

Steve ran a hand across his jaw, "I've been a little preoccupied."

"Oh, is that all?" Bucky raised an eyebrow in his best friend's direction. "So, it has nothing to do with Natasha being into the beard?"

Steve felt heat creep up his neck and was glad it was dark in the gazebo, because he knew his face was blushing red, "Maybe a little."

Bucky relaxed against the bench and regarded Steve. In all the time they'd known one another, he'd never seen his friend look at another person, not even Peggy, the way he looked Natasha. Respect and adoration painted plainly across his face any time he was in her presence. He saw a flicker of it in Germany when she helped them escape to the Quinn Jet. He saw it in Wakanda after they'd been on the run together for nearly a year. And he saw it now.

"I really am happy for you, Steve. You're good together."

"Thanks, Buck. That means a lot," Steve smiled to himself and thought of how Natasha's small frame felt curled into his. "She's… well, let's just say it was unexpected."

"Buddy, this was only a surprise to the two of you," Bucky said shaking his head in amusement.

Steve and Bucky retreated into the warmth of the house around 3 a.m., and Steve settled into a dreamless sleep. He awoke around 7:30 the next morning feeling groggy but forced himself out of bed. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy blue henley shirt, Steve descended the stairs, the smell of bacon assaulting his senses when he walked into the kitchen.

Bucky was already on the front porch with a cup of coffee and the morning crossword puzzle. Bruce took up space in front of the stove where he was scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes. Peter, who insisted on coming back up from Queens the previous evening, was leaned back in a chair at the kitchen table, still half asleep. Wanda and Sam were seated around the same table quietly discussing plans to retrieve Vision's body.

Steve definitely needed to get back to the hospital and talk to Tony about his conversation with Wanda. He reached around Bruce to grab a mug from countertop and poured himself a cup of coffee, breathing deeply and letting the first few sips settled into him.

"Morning, Cap," Bruce's voice boomed into Steve's ears. "Eggs?"

"Sure," he accepted a heaping plate of breakfast food and took a second to look Bruce over. He looked tired but in good spirits. He was still wearing a sling around his arm and shoulder, but from what Steve could see, the burns were healing quite rapidly. "How's the arm?"

"Pretty good, actually," Bruce said, slipping the damaged arm from the sling and rotating it a couple of times. "I'll be good as new before you know it."

Steve smiled at his friend and patted him on his broad back, then sat down in an empty chair between Wanda and Peter. The sound of Steve's chair scraping the floor jarred the sleeping teen to attention.

"Huh? What? I'm up. I'm awake!" he said, rapidly blinking sleep from his eyes and looking around the room. "Oh, heh. Sorry. I must've dozed off."

"You know, you're going to have to go home eventually," Steve said, popping a piece of the crispy bacon into his mouth.

Peter sat up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, failing to tame the dark mess atop his head, "Yeah, I know. But my Aunt May said I don't have to go back to school until after Christmas break, and I just wanted to make sure Mr. Stark was all right."

Steve smiled at Peter's earnestness, and slid the plate of food in his direction, "Here, eat something."

Peter shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, reaching over Sam for the bottle of ketchup. In between bites, he said, "Hey, Cap, I gotta tell you, the way you used that hammer to kick Thanos' ass was so cool."

"Thanks, kid," Steve said, cocking his head to the side. He sometimes forgot just how young Peter actually was and was grateful for the relationship the teen and Tony shared.

Peter bit into a piece of bacon and continued his stream of consciousness, "Thor told me all about the hammer. How did know you could pick it up? It's just so badass. Not that I would ever doubt your worthiness. I mean, of course you are. You're Captain America. I just meant that…"

Steve chuckled to himself, and Peter's face turned bright red. He trailed off, stuffing another bite of food into his mouth, and Steve turned toward Sam and Wanda, "I'm going to see Tony this morning. I want to see if he has any thoughts on how to go about this the right way."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll have some thoughts," Sam said, sipping his coffee. "When doesn't Stark have opinions?"

Wanda leaned forward in her chair and gripped the edge of the table with both hands, "If Tony wants to help, then I welcome his advice. But if he tries to get in my way…"

Steve laid a hand on her forearm, trying to diffuse her rising anger, "Wanda, listen to me; if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. No destruction, no violence. Tony knows Hayward better than I do, so he might have an angle we haven't thought of."

She inhaled deeply and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, "Fine."

Sam nudged his elbow into hers, "Hey, it's gonna be OK. We'll get him back."

She seemed mollified at Sam's reassurance, and Steve shot him a grateful look across the table. "I'll be back this afternoon. My phone's on if anyone needs me."

Steve dropped his coffee mug and now empty breakfast plate in the sink and grabbed his brown leather jacket from the closet before heading out the garage. He typed out a text to Natasha, wondering how the night had gone.

"Just checking in. How're things going there? How are Laura and the kids?"

Three bubbles appeared on the screen, indicating she was typing, "Hey you. It was a rough night for all of us, but I'm glad I came out here. How are you?"

Steve leaned against the car door and frowned, wishing he could be there to comfort her. "The last 12 hours have been… interesting. I'm headed to see Tony, but I'll call you later to explain."

"You're gonna leave me hanging like that? Not nice, Rogers."

He smiled at the winky face that followed her text. "Wanda wants Sam and I to help her get Vision's body back."

"Have to say, I kind of saw that one coming."

"I guess I'm not really surprised, either."

"I'd tell you to stay out of trouble, but we both know you won't."

She was right, of course. Steve never could walk away from a situation he thought he could help resolve. After about a minute his phone buzzed again. He opened the text and his chest tightened.

"I miss you, Steve."

"You've only been gone half a day. Don't go all soft on me, Romanoff."

"lol. Shut up."

God, he loved this woman. How he wasted so much time pretending he didn't was something Steve would never understand, "I miss you, too, Nat."

As Steve made his way up to Tony's hospital room, he briefly wondered if he should've called first. He got off the elevator to find Pepper and Morgan headed down the hallway.

"Cap! Hey," Pepper said with a smile and knelt so that she was eye-level with Morgan. "Go give your uncle Steve a hug."

The small brunette child, a spitting image of Tony, ran toward him with her arms outstretched. He bent over and scooped her up, swinging her into the air then back down into a bear hug. "How's it going, kiddo?"

She nuzzled her head bashfully into the crook of Steve's neck and giggled, "Daddy says you're a pain in his ass."

Steve's mouth dropped open in surprised and he looked to Pepper, who'd pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Your dad isn't wrong," He set Morgan back on the ground and leaned in to hug Pepper, "Is he awake?"

She nodded and stroked her daughter's dark hair, "He is."

"Do you mind if I talk to him alone?"

"Of course not. Take all the time you need. We were just headed out for some breakfast anyway," Pepper said with a warm smile, leading the still giggling child toward the elevator.

Steve tapped a knuckle lightly against the door before entering. Tony was propped up in bed. His head was leaned back, and his eyes were closed, but Steve could tell by the AC/DC blasting from the headphones covering his ears that he was definitely awake. He leaned against the wall and waited.

After a few seconds, Tony opened one eye and peered out at Steve, "You're being creepy."

"Sorry," Steve chuckled and sat down in the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling."

Tony turned the music off and pulled the headphones down to rest around his neck, "About the same as yesterday. Can't wait to get the hell out of this bed."

"Soon enough."

Tony could tell Steve had something on his mind, "Romanoff already sick of you, or did you just miss me?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "She went out to see Laura and the kids."

Tony cast his eyes downward allowing himself a moment to feel the of their fallen friend, "So then you're here because… ?"

"It's Wanda," Steve said, and he knew by Tony's reaction that he'd been expecting this.

"Right. Wanda," Tony pressed his lips together and sighed. "She wants Vision's body back doesn't she?"

"She asked Sam and I to help her break into S.W.O.R.D."

Tony rubbed at his temples, "I gotta say, I can't blame her. It's probably what I would do if I were in her position."

Steve was taken aback by Tony's admission. He was usually the voice of reason when it came to these types of situations. Righteous action was more Steve's M.O. "Is there anything you can tell us? Anything that might keep this from turning into a mess?"

"Old age must really be getting to you. You're starting to sound like me," Tony deadpanned. "But, actually, yeah. I think a conversation with good 'ole Director Hayward is long overdue."

"You'll talk to him?"

"For Wanda? You bet your ass I will. Tell her to give me a week. We'll get it sorted."

Steve stood and rested a hand on Tony's good shoulder, "Thank you, Tony."

"You got it, Cap."

Steve took a few steps toward the door before turning back, "By the way, did you know Morgan calls me Uncle Steve?" he asked, with a self-satisfied grin.

The older man rolled his eyes so far back into his head Steve thought they might get stuck there, "Yeah, her mother taught her that one."

Steve flashed Tony a genuine smile, grateful that their friendship was back on track, and headed out the door. Now he just had to convince Wanda to be patient.

"One week," he thought. "Shouldn't be a problem."