"So… who are you again?"

Harper looked up from her breakfast with some trepidation. She knew this conversation was inevitable, but she had hoped to avoid it longer. Tony had just come off the sedatives that morning, and already his sharp mind was returning to him.

"My name is Harper."

"Right, right, but how did you end up shackled to the Capsicle?"

"It's rather voluntary, not servitude," she corrected, skirting the question.

"How did you end up here?" the billionaire demanded.

Harper appraised him for a moment, deciding that he was as stable as he'd ever be with the sedatives still lingering in his system. "I'd been dating Bucky for a couple years before he was lost to the Snap."

"Manchurian candidate… was your boyfriend?" Tony deadpanned.

"I don't understand that reference, but sure. James –er, Bucky – was my boyfriend."

A dry laugh hissed from his lips. "Oh, now this is rich. The Brainwashed Wonder had a little girlfriend."

"Tony, I-"

"You know your boyfriend murdered my parents, right?" he demanded venomously.

With a roar, the man shoved the bowl of oatmeal in front of him, sending it careening off the edge of the table and crashing to the floor. Harper flinched lightly but otherwise didn't react. She simply set her spoon down and met his dark brown gaze. Her lack of response seemed to fuel his rage and he asked, "It really doesn't bother you that you were sleeping with a murderer, does it?"

"I'm sorry about the loss of your parents, Tony," Harper replied earnestly.

He faked humor and bravado, hands waving for emphasis, as he said, "I mean, I know some women are into bad boys and all, but a mass murderer fetish seems to be taking it a little far."

"I understand that you can't forgive him."

"Forgive him? The assassin who choked out my mother while she cried for him to stop? There is no forgiving that. Though evidently it didn't bother you."

The brunette took a soft, steadying breath before continuing, "It bothered me deeply to think of the absolute torture he endured because of his HYDRA handlers. That he continued to endure even when we were together, reliving the terrible things he was made to do."

"Yes, he's the victim," the older man snorted. "Are you a victim by association?"

"Not at all," she denied smoothly.

"Oh, I see. You're the perfect little savior who swooped in to take care of the poor broken assassin. How saintly you are."

Her temper flared at his words, and she struggled to maintain her calm exterior. "I don't see myself that way, especially given that I didn't know about his past until I'd known him for two years. I don't expect you to forgive him, I don't expect you to feel positively toward me by association, but I expect civility."

"Tony," Pepper's warning tone broke the tension between them. They both turned to the blonde. "Harper has been nothing but kind and giving since we all convened here. We've all been a team, working together and supporting one another since this disaster with Thanos. She lost a lot of people and we don't need to kick each other while we're down. Please."

The billionaire softened at his partner's plea, but said nothing more to Harper. She found that was fine by her and continued with her breakfast despite the sour feeling in her stomach. He would not get the satisfaction of knowing he'd rattled her, even as her thoughts drifted to James and how nearly his entire life had been unspeakably painful.

Steve gazed unseeingly into the middle distance. His chest ached with grief and guilt. The young woman beside him was still aside from the gentle circular strokes of her palm on his back. They were seated in the center of her bed, the only light in the room the glow of her laptop screen. His eyes focused and gazed at the screen. It appeared to be a scientific article of some sort.

"Sorry, did I interrupt you?"

She replied gently, "Steve, an update on your trip to space to face-off against Thanos again trumps anything else, summer classes included."

He gave a jerky nod and found himself asking, "What were you reading about?"

"The detrimental effects of thought suppression," Harper answered. "Pretty apt subject since we all seem to be avoiding thoughts of our losses lately."

Steve chuckled darkly. "That's all I can think of."

"Are you thinking about your grief, or are you focusing on your self-blame?"

He looked away, unable to meet her bright brown eyes. Her hands continued their slow circles across his back. The soldier took comfort in the gesture. Harper sighed and commented, "You remind me so much of James sometimes."

Steve dropped his head to his hands and asked, "Trillions of people are gone with no hope of getting them back. We failed twice. I failed twice. How do I live with that?"

"Have you ever stopped to grieve, Steve?" He was silent, confused by the question. Harper continued, "When you woke up in New York and since then, did you ever allow yourself to feel the grief for what you've lost? Or did you push yourself, throw yourself into heroics?"

He allowed his silence to answer her question. Gently, she suggested, "That might be a good place to start."

"Are you therapizing me?"

"No," she answered earnestly. "Although I can't ignore what my work and education has taught me. But I'm talking about something I've learned in the nine years since my first cluster headache. I was miserable – extra miserable, I should say – for so many years because I never grieved the loss of the life I lived before the clusters. For the time when I was carefree and had no idea what true physical pain felt like or how difficult it is to get medical care as a woman. When I didn't know how lonely it is when people are emotionally incapable of supporting you at your worst because your worst is so intense, so frightening."

"And you've accepted those things? Find them easier to deal with now?"

"Not entirely, but I can work on dealing with those things more if I perseverate on my losses less. To do that, I've had to deal with those losses."

Steve shook his head slightly. Dealing with all he had lost? He didn't think he could do that. He'd lost the love of his life. He'd lost his brother. He'd lost friends, comrades. He'd lost members of his new family. He'd lost an entire lifetime. It was too much and he was too tired.

"Any other advice?"

"Feel your feelings and cut yourself some slack are pretty much at the core of a lot of my advice."

"Did that work for Buck?"

"He put a lot of work into trying to feel better. When we were in Bucharest, he was never able to fully confide in me. And when I was with him in Wakanda, he didn't talk much about his demons. He told me a lot about him, his life – things that had been secret before. He talked a lot about me, we talked about us. I can't be sure, but I can say that the man I lost was so different from the man I met."

Steve lifted his face from his palms and turned to regard the woman. She looked so much younger than him. Her dark brown hair was piled sloppily atop her head. She wore sweatpants on the legs that were crossed beneath her. The oversized t-shirt she wore practically swallowed her, and Steve realized with a pang in his chest that it was probably Bucky's. But there was a weariness in her bright eyes, and her fatigue was evident in the circles beneath them.

The soldier lifted a hand and settled it on her shoulder. With a tired sigh, he asked, "What're we gonna do, Harper?"

"Fuck if I know," she grumbled. He laughed lightly, pausing to ruffle her hair. She protested, "Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry," he offered a small smile and lifted his hands in surrender.

"My grandfather used to do shit like that. Don't be weird," the brunette added with a grin of her own.

"I'm probably older than your grandfather."

Harper shrugged. "I was fucking a dude older than my grandfather; you think that fazes me?"

"When you put it like that," he laughed, feeling just the slightest bit lighter.

3 Months after the Snap

"Harper Ann, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm letting Aslan smell everything," the brunette answered easily, moving the large cat in her arms to the next item for him to sniff at.

"His fur!"

"If you'd rather he cries the entire time we make this, that's fine, Gram. But letting him decide he hates all these ingredients is much quieter and easier."

"How old is he getting to be?" the petite woman with white hair asked, turning back to the apple she was peeling.

"He's almost as old as you at a whopping 84. That's 18 in human years."

"Don't remind me of how old I am, Harper."

Harper set the feline on the floor where he curled up against her foot. She wiped her hands on a damp towel on the table before picking up her own apple and peeler. "You're 89 years young, Gram."

The older woman chuckled wickedly and said, "I suppose that is young in comparison to your taste in men."

"Not you too," Harper shook her head exasperatedly. "You sound like Steve."

Her grandmother tossed her apple slices into the bowl between them. Thoughtfully, she said, "You know, Captain America and the Howling Commandos were so highly revered when I was young. True heroes and patriots. For more reasons than one, it's amazing that they're connected to my family. That a Commando could have been my grandson-in-law."

With a sad chuckle, the brunette replied, "The best I can offer is to meet Steve next time he's in town."

"Sorry, dear. I know you've lost even more than many us."

"Gram, this isn't the Suffering Olympics."

"How's Natalie doing? It's hard to tell over the phone and she hasn't come to visit in a while."

Harper tossed another handful of apples into the bowl. She stood to see into it and gauge their progress. She tilted the bowl toward her grandmother and asked, "What do you think?"

"I'll finish this one and if you do one more, I think that will be good. We want a nice full pie. That's what your uncle would have said, anyway."

Harper watched the other woman deflate at that. Her wizened hands shook slightly as she went back to slicing her apple. "I'm sorry, Gram. I can't imagine how it would feel to lose a child and a grandchild."

"It's not natural," she replied stiffly. "It's not supposed to happen like this. Big sisters aren't supposed to lose their younger sister. Young women aren't supposed to lose their friends or their boyfriends."

Harper could only nod her agreement as she began adding cinnamon and sugar to the bowl of apple slices. With everyone else, she could put on a strong front, but with her grandmother her mask always managed to crack a bit.

"Natalie is having a hard time. She and Jordan were basically attached at the hip, and she was having a hard time just knowing that Jordan would be graduating, let alone this. I'm sorry she hasn't been keeping in touch with you."

The older woman sighed. "I wish she would. It's just us and you mother left. We need to be thankful for who we still have and enjoy each other."

"I'll try to talk to her," Harper promised.

"Let's not talk about that anymore. How is school going?"

"I just finished summer classes, so now I have a month until it starts back up full time."

"Oh yes, you told me that. I forgot."

"That's alright, Gram."

The older woman watched as Harper extracted the dough she had made that morning from the fridge. She passed the flour as Harper began prepping the table to roll out the dough. She asked, "Are you going back to work soon?"

Harper inhaled deeply and nodded. "Yes. I've taken some time for myself, I've done what I can with Steve and the others, so I need to do what I can where I can."

"You're a good kid," her grandmother said gently.

"I'm 28, Gram."

I have 60 years on you, so you're a kid. Now roll out that dough so we can get this thing in the oven. I want to eat it before I turn 90."

4.5 Months after the Snap

"I'd really advise against it, honestly."

"Do you think it won't flow well there?" Harper asked, head tilting slightly.

"No, it's just not a good place for a first-timer, especially a piece this big and detailed."

The brunette couldn't help but laugh. "Trust me, I can take pain."

5.5 Months after the Snap

"I still can't believe you," Chris chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" Harper asked, looking up from her book.

The tattoo artist explained, "You came in a tattoo virgin asking for this intricate rib piece and laughed in my face when I tried to talk you out of it. I thought for sure you'd tap out before we even got a quarter of the way through the outline. Yet you've come in and done homework during each of your sessions. You've taken this like a fuckin' champ."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess? And sorry; I figured it might be weird that I'm reading while you work. This was honestly a relatively impulsive decision and I didn't actually have the time to sit for this so I don't have much choice but to be productive while I'm here."

"That's fine. A client who isn't constantly chatty is nice to be honest. I just meant holy shit these types of pieces hurt and you've been killing this."

Harper hummed and said, "Well, it's not like this has felt nice. I've definitely made some colorful remarks here and there. But I have a chronic pain condition, so this is far from the worst thing I've experienced."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry. That's gotta be hard."

"What can you do?" she asked, not really wanting to get into it. She enjoyed the friendly tattoo artist. He was easy company and made her feel really comfortable. Showing off so much skin to a stranger was not in her wheelhouse and he had been nothing but respectful and accommodating.

"Since this is our last session, wanna tell me about the people this tattoo is for?" The surprise must have shown on her face because the inked man said, "I noticed that these are all memorial plants. I've been in the biz long enough to know these things. Plus, all we seem to do nowadays are remembrance tattoos. Ever since…"

"Did you lose people?" Harper asked gently.

He nodded once and said, "I was lucky, comparatively speaking. I lost a cousin and a close friend. You certainly seem to have lost a lot."

The brunette returned his nod. "I lost my only uncle, one of my younger sisters, my father, my best friend, and my boyfriend who was like… my person, ya know?"

"I'm so sorry," Christ responded earnestly.

"We're all of us grieving," she muttered, uncomfortable with the sympathy.

"Ain't that true? This is a beautiful piece and they're gonna be well honored by it. Let me punch in the last of this red and you'll be finished, alright?"

Harper nodded and turned back to the book she was reading on neurodivergence. She winced every now and again, but overall fell back into the rhythm with the tattooing process. It seemed like not too much longer passed when Chris was announcing she was finished and began cleaning up her skin.

"Time for the big reveal," he announced, pierced lips splitting into a huge grin. "C'mon over to the mirror."

He offered his hand to help her down off the bench, and they walked over to the full-length mirror at his station. Harper turned to the side and tears immediately stung the back of her eyes. The piece was beautiful. Starting just about her hip was a tall, full Cyprus tree. Its narrow body contained numerous branches stretched upward as real ones reached toward the clouds. They were optimistic symbolically and sturdy as most trees are, embodying the easygoing nature and unerring support of her late father. A green tendril curled around the tree's trunk, tiny green leaves poking out every so often. The tendril rose up and to the side of the tree's tip, blooming into a gorgeous royal purple hyacinth. It was a flower meaning constancy and play, which fit her fun-loving uncle. Blooming upward from behind the hyacinth was a bright orange lily, representing the confidence and pride that Jordan had exuded. Crawling still further up her ribcage, the delicate petals of a white chrysanthemum unfurled across her skin. She noted the mastery Chris clearly had for his trade, as the petals were a perfect shade such that they read as white petals, yet still showed up against her fair skin. The shading and hints of dull yellow brought to life the flower that spoke of Kat's loyalty.

By the time Harper's eyes found the vibrant red poppy to honor James, tears were streaming from her eyes. Meeting Chris's eyes in the mirror, she breathed, "It's perfect."

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the support on the return of this story! It was wonderful to see so many familiar folks. I so enjoyed exploring Harper and Steve's relationship in these first few chapters. Actually, I feel like I did a lot more with Harper in general with this story, in part because the Blip is told entirely from her perspective. I hope you all enjoy seeing more of her, too. Thank you again for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing!