A/N: Howdy hey here we go! I have no thing to say other than the usual pls leave me words k thx babes

Chapter #02:

A Band-Aid on a Bullet Wound

"The older you get the better you get unless you are a banana." -unknown

"Nat, what do you think?"

"… I think I've never been more disappointed in you."

Despite the phrase being my absolute worst nightmare, all I could do was widely grin at the ex-assassin who looked like she was contemplating killing me in the middle of this high class department store in front of God and everyone. I glanced back at the shirt I held in my hands. It was a pastel pink, short sleeve, Hawaiian styled shirt with simple, cartoon dinosaurs decorating it.

"I think it's cute!" I cooed and let my hand run down the front of the shirt again. It was a soft, cool material. Perfect for a super soldier that runs hot on the regular.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at me, stepping closer, "Why did I let you come with me today?"

"Because you looooove me." I sang and her lips quirked up in a smirk. That was victory enough for me. I held it out to the store clerk who was following us. She gave Natasha a questioning look, but, when the red head reluctantly nodded, she took it from my hands. I grinned, "Hey, you're the one who told me to find clothes for the warmer weather since you're donating all our winter stuff."

"Yes, but I assumed I didn't have to clarify that the clothes should be good."

I continued to flip through the racks, "Jokes on you because Bucky's gonna love it, and I think it's adorable."

Natasha snorted, "Adorable is the aesthetic the former Winter Soldier is aiming for, I'm sure." She flicked me on the nose lightly as she walked by me to a new rack of clothes and ignored me sticking my tongue out at her in a very Clint like fashion. "And that's if you can get him out of sweats and his comfort hoodie."

"He wore a sweater you bought for him yesterday! And jeans!" I argued.

"Yeah, and he immediately got blood on the sweater."

I twisted my lips, unable to fully deny that, "In his defense, that was Pete and Harley's fault…and Tony a little for leaving them unsupervised in the first place."

We quietly dug through the racks when Wanda wandered back over to us. She had been hesitant about coming out with us. It seemed like the Compound had become sort of a security blanket for her. Wanda looked much calmer now than she did in the first couple stores we visited. Rather than slouching in on herself, she stood at her full height now with shoulders pulled back and head held high. The teen held up two maxi dresses for us to look at, "Which one do you think is prettier?"

"Well, I think—"

"Ignore her." Natasha interrupted me. "She thinks Hawaiian shirts are back in style."

I scoffed, "You say that like the Avengers are capable of looking bad in anything. Y'all are half 'gang of superheroes' and half 'gaggle of supermodels' for crying out loud. We could make a fucking calendar."

Natasha, ignoring me with ease, studied both dresses with a critical eye. She reached out to touch both, then hummed, and motioned to the one on the left. It was black with loose sleeves and a sloping neckline. She motioned for the clerk to take it while speaking, "We need to get your brother some things as well."

Wanda smiled, "Not to stir the pot, but Pietro would love a Hawaiian shirt as well."

"Why do I even try?" Natasha mumbled while I clapped my hands eagerly. I pulled the teen back over to where I found the first shirt and we flipped through others to find one for her brother. After Wanda picked out a blue and light purple shirt with dark palm trees, Natasha came back over with a sigh, "This means we have to get one for Clint too otherwise he'll pitch a fit."

With a slow growing smirk, I spoke, "So… I guess that means we should just go ahead and get one for everyone then?"

Natasha blinked at me with barely concealed defeat, "I suppose so, Aj."

As we picked out more of the cursed shirts, Natasha shooting down the really bad ones I suggested just to get a rise out of her, my phone began to ring. I touched Wanda's shoulder as I scooted past her and took a few steps away to answer the call from Clint.

"Hey, what's up, man?"

"Kid! I've missed you. How's the Compound?"

"It's the usual." I shrugged. "How's the Playground?"

Clint groaned, "Babysitting is about as fun as it sounds."

"Aw, don't say that." I said in mock concern. "I'm sure Coulson is having a lot of fun babysitting you!"

He scoffed in return and I chuckled. Clint was there babysitting inhumans? To be honest, I wasn't really sure what was going on. They were keeping it under wraps, but I expected no less of a SHIELD mission. Nobody seemed overly concerned about it, so I didn't push on the subject.

"Anyways, I called to ask you a quick question." Clint chimed. "Why is Steve dying from a shattered shoulder?"

"What!?" I asked in panic. The only words that really caught my attention were 'Steve' and 'dying'. I could literally feel my heartrate pick up, but my idiot brain finally began to register the rest of the words. They sounded familiar. "W—Wait. I, uh, that's me." I nodded and let out a breath of relief. "I had a bunch of interviews with surgeons this morning and I wanted them to answer questions about the situation, but I couldn't explain that it was Bucky with the super healing so…"

Clint laughed, "So you told them Steve was dying!?"

"No!" I barked. "I just said he shattered his shoulder and tore up everything. Beyond repair. That we're looking for replacement options."

"Oh, man." Clint howled in laughter and if I could reach through the phone and punch him I would. "PR is gonna hate you when they find out you're at fault."

I paused in confusion, "What?" I pulled the phone away from my ear, still hearing his voice a little bit, and pulled up my news app. My notifications for it had been turned off during the month I was on my own and I had forgotten to turn it back on. The number one trending topic on every single person's mind, apparently, was that Steve Rogers had been severely injured in the field and was now lying on his death bed looking at amputation as his only chance of survival. I groaned, "Oh, fuck."

Natasha walked over and held up her phone, "Tony is calling me looking for you."

"Thanks for the heads up." I said into the phone. Clint just laughed some more, and I hung up on him. Natasha smirked in amusement and I stuck my lower lip out in a pout, "I don't think this is very funny."

"Everyone else does." She replied.

"Your friend is on his death bed, Nat. Show a little more concern." I groaned and wandered back over to where Wanda was still flipping through shirts. This situation wasn't ideal, but it was much better than the world finding out about Bucky. Plus, Steve wasn't actually dying so that made me feel infinitely better. Clint was right though. PR was gonna ream me.

I quickly typed out a text to Tony and he replied that I should check his email. When I opened my app, which was already hooked up to his account, I was greeted by tons of emails from various doctors I had never heard of. It seemed like every surgeon in America wanted to be the hero that saved the Captain's life.

A snap notification interrupted my moment of mild panic, and I grinned at who it was from. His name in my phone was 'Sergeant Dreamboat' and when I opened the snap it was a picture of Steve digging around in the fridge with a caption that read, 'I heard you put Stevie on his death bed, doll'.

Natasha leaned over my shoulder, "Holy hell, Barnes is on Snapchat?"

"Yeah, I showed it to him about a week ago." I chuckled.

"And he didn't friend me?" She scoffed and pulled out her own phone. Wanda wandered over curiously.

I shrugged while typing out a mock apology to him, "He never sends me pictures of his face, but I can't tell if that's because he doesn't want to or he can't figure out how to flip his camera."

"He does." Wanda giggled. "I showed him how to use filters the other day."

"He's friends with you on Snap?" Natasha asked. She nodded and the red head scoffed again, "Well, now my feelings are hurt."

I flipped the camera to take a picture of a grinning Wanda and a glaring Natasha then sent it to him warning him that he was now officially on the Black Widow's shit list. Within the minute, he sent me back a picture of himself making a sheepish look and I let out a small laugh. Bucky was doing so, so well. It made me stupid happy. Ridiculously so.

"Oh, Nat!" I looked up from my phone and she raised an eyebrow at me, "Jean jacket." Her face fell into mute exhaustion and even Wanda gave me skeptical look. I just nodded firmly, "Bucky needs a jean jacket."

Clint had been through trials of fire all throughout his life. He's had to limp back to his pick-up location with a broken leg after a mission gone wrong. He's held off a team of 12 HYRDA agents while Natasha hacked their system with only three arrows and his plucky attitude. He had even arm wrestled Thor and had only felt like crying for five minutes after the god slammed his hand down so hard it threw him from the table.

The point was Clint was a master spy.

He would not give in.

He would not lose without a fight.

"Like Cap likes to say, kiddo, I can do this all day." Clint said while keeping his dry eyes as wide open as he could. Star sat across from him, cross legged and focused, her golden eyes unblinking. This lasted thirty more seconds before Clint blinked his burning eyes with a groan. The little girl giggled, showing off her dimples, and he shook his head in defeat. "You used Asgardian magic to win, didn't you?" Star giggled again and shook her head, curls flying around her face. "You definitely did, and now you must pay. Lucky!"

Clint whistled loudly and seconds later his dog rushed through the door whipping around a spray of drool. Star squealed as Lucky tackled the girl with kisses. He grunted and pushed himself off the floor brushing off the back of his pants.

"Stay in here, kiddo." Clint called out before walking out of the room to look for Coulson who had texted him earlier. The Playground was nice. As far as SHIELD bases went, it was one of the best. However, he had gotten used to living at the Compound and boy were they very different.

He greeted agents as he passed them. It didn't take long to get to the office at all. Clint knocked on the doorframe and Coulson looked up from whatever he was working on to meet his gaze. He waved him in.

"I hear Captain Rogers is dying—"

"Nah." Clint waved and dropped down into the seat in front of his desk. "Aj is working on trying to get Barnes' arm fixed and since she can't use his name she used Steve's and you know how the media gets…"

Coulson chuckled, "Right. Torn rotator cuff turns into life or death operation."

"Speaking of, when is Simmons getting back from the mission with Daisy and Kate? I think Aj was trying to get in touch with her for some opinions."

"Simmons reached out." Coulson nodded. "Through email."

"Did they finally have a plan?"

"Maybe?" Coulson furrowed his eyebrows. "Last I spoke to them Simmons seemed very excited about whatever Aj emailed her about." Clint bobbed his head but stopped when Coulson pointed at him from across the desk. "Now how is my plan coming along?"

Clint hung his head back with a groan, "Coulson—"

"Barton, the men we saved Star from are knocking down doors looking for her, and the government is asking for a list of known inhumans. Star isn't an inhuman so I don't wanna put her on that list, but if I don't they're gonna think I'm hiding something."

He shrugged with narrowed eyes, "Aren't we kind of hiding something?"

"Barton."

"We called Thor." Clint sighed, and it wasn't a lie. After dealing with the 'Aj bleeding to death' scenario, they had immediately called Thor the only way they knew how. "We rang the damn bell, but he isn't answering."

When Thor first came around, he gave them a thick, metal, ancient looking bell and said if they ever needed him to ring it. Clint had a mountain of jokes on the fact that the god of thunder left them a bell to call for him, but it had come in handy. They ring the bell, Asgard's doorman Heimdall hears it, and then he passes the message along to Thor. Problem was, the Asgardian doorbell wasn't opening any doors this time around.

"Did you try again?" Coulson questioned.

"Listen, I rang that thing until Tasha threatened my life for ringing it too much." Clint replied. There was a good chance that Heimdall was going to come down to Earth just to beat the shit out of him for touching the bell that often. "We don't know what's going on up there, but Thor is busy."

Coulson rubbed at his face in exhaustion, and he didn't blame the man. SHIELD business was always stressful and since Fury had disappeared off the face of the planet again it left Coulson scrambling. He had Maria Hill to put out fires and juggle missions, but there was still a lot for them to do.

Clint leaned forward, elbows on knees, "Seriously, Coulson, just say the word and Tash and I will stick around here longer. We'd be more than happy to pick up SHIELD missions."

"I appreciate that." Coulson nodded once, "But we can't. We can't risk the public tying any Avenger directly to SHIELD business. SHIELD can be back-up and clean up, but anything more and we become a target."

"Coulson—"

Coulson gave him a pointed look, "I'm serious. The United Nations is starting to push an anti-inhuman agenda. We're fighting that, but the step after this is putting the Avengers on a leash."

"How close are they to full registration?" Clint asked solemnly.

"Too close." Coulson said in irritation. "Taking the tainted fish pills off the market has slowed the influx, but if we have one more inhuman caused disaster…"

Clint nodded in understanding. They were walking a very, very thin line. Every government in the world was searching for a reason to get inhumans or the Avengers in their control. After Ultron and Sokovia, boy had they tried, and SHIELD was able to dodge that bullet but how many more quick thinking political moves did they have left?

"Maybe we should move Star to the Compound." Clint suggested. His friend's eyes widened almost comically, and he just shrugged in response. "Listen, we're already hiding Bucky Barnes. Why not one more stray? You know we can protect her and when Thor eventually does show up, she'll be ready for pick-up."

Coulson still looked unconvinced, but he also looked like he saw the potential merits of it. While he thought it over, Clint leaned back in the single seat couch and threw his feet onto the edge of the desk. Coulson shot him a look but didn't swat his legs away.

"Also, I've been thinking." Clint set his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers.

"That's never good to hear."

Clint ignored the jab, "I think I know how Star's visions work." Coulson raised his eyebrows, and he continued with a grin. "I think they're 50/50 moments. The future is always changing right? So, she can't draw anything concrete with that. But… what she can draw is the fork in the road." His friend paused and Clint recognized the wheels turning in Coulson's eyes. "Star draws a moment in time where the future can go in one of two ways. Like with Aj… she got left on a basement floor with a bullet in her spleen." Clint didn't even like saying the sentence. "She either lived or died, but either option would shape Tash's future."

It shaped all their futures.

"You…might be onto something." Coulson hummed.

Clint smirked, "It happens from time to time."

Coulson chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but instead he smiled. His eyes dragged to something behind him, and Clint watched him raise his hand in a little wave. Clint turned around in his seat to see Star standing in the doorway with a shy smile. He grinned and jumped out of his seat, "Are you here to challenge me again!?" Star giggled and with overexaggerated movements he threw his arms up with a roar, "Here I come!"

Star cackled in excitement and ran down the hall. Clint jogged after her and when he got close enough, he scooped her up and held her over his shoulder. He gripped her tightly and spun a few times making her squeal. She still wouldn't talk to him, but he hoped he could get her to trust him by the end of the day. The more he learned about Star the easier it would be to get her home. He also made a mental note to text Steve and have him ring the doorbell again.

54th time is the charm, right?

It was interesting to watch Steve and Bucky interact with one another. Despite spending so much time apart, it was easy to see that the men had a rhythm. Something told Sam that Steve was a little more cautious now than he had been in the past, and Bucky was a little more timid, but considering the situation it was expected. Sam also found their mannerisms to be an interesting contrast to one another.

Both men had the super soldier serum running through their veins. Granted, Bucky had a HYDRA knock off version of what Erskine had created, but either way both men were enhanced. The product of their training was different though. Steve seemed to always be moving. Even if he was just sitting on the couch, the man would have his finger bouncing against his leg or drumming on a surface. It was like the serum had left him with energy to spare, and it came out in repetitive movements. Bucky was the entire opposite. When he sat down, the man became a statue. His ability to remain still was almost otherworldly. If you weren't sitting right next to him then you'd worry the man wasn't even breathing.

Sam leaned against the wall watching the two soldiers out of time in the kitchen. Bucky was sitting at the island on his phone, stock still, wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans. His long hair was pulled out of his face. On better days, he pulled his hair back in a half bun. On worse days, he just let it hang around his face. Across from him Steve leaned against the counter eating a sandwich.

"Hey, hand me a banana." Bucky said gruffly without even looking up from his phone. Steve hummed and stepped back to the counter behind him to pull one off the bunch. He held it out to his friend and Bucky looked up in time to take it. He gave the fruit a confused once over before skeptically peeling it open. The blond took another bite of his sandwich and just watched as his friend took a bite out of the fruit only to freeze up. With a disgusted groan, Bucky grabbed a napkin from the center of the island and spat the bite into it. "What the fuck was that?"

Steve nodded once, "Yeah, they changed bananas."

"What the hell do you mean they changed bananas?" Bucky scoffed, his Brooklyn accent punching through with every word. Steve nodded again, and the dark haired man scoffed, "The future's a goddamn nightmare." Bucky tossed the banana onto the table and glared at his friend. "And thanks for the warning, punk."

Steve tucked a bite of sandwich into his cheek and smirked in amusement. Again, Sam let his eyes bounce back and forth between the two before he stepped toward them with a chuckle.

"I don't need another jackass from the 40's busting on my favorite fruit." Sam called out. Steve let out a laugh while Bucky hummed once. He could still tell that the man had no idea how to behave around him. Sam didn't want to baby the grown ass man though. Bucky had enough of that. He needed someone to act like a normal human around him.

"Listen, I'll give modern times the win for entertainment and communication, but they fucked up a perfectly fine fruit with whatever the hell these things are." Steve motioned to the banana Bucky had tossed onto the island.

Sam scoffed, "You're sounding your age, Cap." He shook his fist with a large frown, "Back in my day, bananas were sweeter, and I could buy a poodle skirt wearing dame a coke for only a quarter."

"I don't know what the hell a poodle skirt is so I'm gonna assume you have the wrong era. Again." Steve replied.

Bucky surprised him by speaking up with a smirk, "Yeah, and a coke would only cost you a nickel. Not that Stevie had much luck getting dames to let him buy them anything."

"Hilarious." Steve scoffed, but he wore a bright grin on his face.

Sam's phone went off and when he pulled it out, he recognized the number belonging to an old friend who was calling him back. He held it up, "I gotta take this. You two old timers don't go breaking a hip on me, alright?"

Steve flipped him off and Sam snickered to himself before jogging over to the elevator. He answered the phone, "Muneeba! Are you here already?"

"I am." The familiar voice answered calmly through the line. "I'm walking into the lobby right now. You did not exaggerate at all about this campus, Sam."

"Told you." Sam chuckled and hit the button for the first floor. "Give me two seconds and I'll meet you down there."

He said quick good-byes then tucked his phone back into his jean pocket. Muneeba Khan was a licensed mental health counselor he had known for a very long time. She lived in Jersey City, which was a bit of a drive, but she was the best when it came to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Psychoanalysis. Tony Stark could hire any psychologist in the country, but the list of people he trusted to deal with the Avengers' stacking mental problems was very short.

Sam got to lobby, the private elevator dropping him off in the back, and he briskly walked to the busy lobby. As per usual, the building was busy. It always was during the day. Sam spotted Muneeba Khan near the receptionist desk. She wore a dark gray pant suit with a lilac hijab that matched the button up shirt under her blazer. A young girl stood beside her, but Sam's attention was focused on the security guard arguing with her.

He jogged over and cleared his throat with a glare, "Do we have a problem here?"

"Mr. Wilson." The security guard startled, "Is this your gue—"

"Yeah, it is. We good?" He replied sharply. The security guard mumbled something under his breath before quickly rushing away. Sam scoffed then turned back to his old friend, "Muneeba, I'm so sorry if he was bothering you."

The older woman gave him a warm smile and set a hand over her heart while giving him a warm smile, "Don't you worry so much about it. Sam, have you met my daughter yet?" Muneeba motioned to the young woman beside her. The girl had dark hair pulled back in two braids with bangs and dark eyes filled with excitement. Her round face was glowing with a smile. "This is Kamala. She's out of school today and is such a big fan of the Avengers."

"Ami!" Kamala's eyes widened in embarrassment.

"What? It's true."

Sam chuckled, "Well, how about I give you two the tour and maybe we can run into Captain America, huh?"

He motioned for the women to follow him and started the official tour of the Compound. Sam put on his best face because he was really hoping to convince the therapist to set up shop in one of the offices here for the Avengers. Specifically, for Bucky Barnes. The guy needed someone official to talk to and Sam was thinking ahead. The more he thought about it the more he really thought they'd be eventually going to trial. If Bucky started seeing a therapist now it would go a long way.

It took about twenty-five minutes to show them the public spaces of both buildings, and then he took them up to the second floor on the recreational building where her office would be. It was a large one nestled past the PR team. Sam swung the door open and motioned to the room.

"Wow, this is much larger than the one back in Jersey City." Muneeba gasped while looking around. "You're truly desperate aren't you, Sam?"

"For an amazing therapist like you? Absolutely." Sam put his hands together in a pleading motion. "Seriously, Muneeba. You name your price and I meet it. We got some real head cases here for you."

She made a disapproving noise, "You know I don't like it when you refer to patients that way."

"Ami, can I go to the cafeteria?" Kamala tugged on her mom's sleeve. She gave the young girl a look, but Kamala just grinned, "I promise. There and back!"

Sam chuckled, "It's really fine. Safest building in the state."

"There and back." Muneeba agreed. Kamala bounced in place excitedly before jogging out of the room. The woman turned back to him and hummed, "So which Avenger needs help?"

"To be honest, all of them." Sam replied dryly. "But there's…one in particular that I have in mind. He's been through…He's been through a lot, Muneeba, and that's a huge understatement." He stepped away to lean on the front of the desk. Sam crossed his feet at his ankles, "I'm also gonna be real with you. There are dangers. This patient in particular is at a huge risk of sudden relapses in judgement and violent episodes."

Muneeba nodded in thought for a moment, "Is this patient open to therapy?"

"I haven't talked to him about that in particular yet." Sam replied, "But he's trying. He's trying to heal. I'll give him that."

"I'd like to meet him once. Talk to him, one on one, and assess his goals." Muneeba replied. "As for any other Avenger, if there is no safety risk then I can take them on outright. But first things first, I need to talk to the patient for a few moments. I hope you can understand."

Sam nodded, "Of course, Muneeba. I want you to be comfortable with this too. I'd have to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement first. It's not that I don't trust you but—"

"But lawyers pitch a fit when you skip their hurdles." Muneeba chuckled. Sam sent a quick text to Steve telling him to breach the topic with Bucky, knowing it'd be best for it to come from him, then turned back to his old friend to make conversation. They had met years ago at a convention and worked together on a few small projects and group therapy sessions. It had been a while since he had seen her before. Sam was happy to see the woman was doing well.

"I knew you had kids, but I didn't realize your daughter had gotten so old. Last I heard you talking, she was just starting the 4th grade." Sam chuckled.

"Yes, she's shooting up like a root." Muneeba said lovingly. "She's been… a little distant lately, but…"

Sam shrugged, "I'm sure that's just her age. Teenagers. You have an older son too don't you?"

"Aamir." Muneeba nodded. "He's still looking for work at the moment."

"Well, it's rough out there. I'm lucky the Avengers picked me up otherwise I'd be panhandling out on the side of the street."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, I'm sure, Mr. Wilson." Sam motioned to the desk and pulled the non-disclosure agreement paperwork out of his inner jacket pocket to set down. Muneeba glanced over it before signing at the bottom. She looked up at him. "What can you tell me about this patient before we meet?"

"He's…He's a veteran. Prisoner of war." Sam said slowly. "The world hasn't been kind to him, Muneeba."

My eyes scanned the lines of the email for a third time. I had read what felt like thousands of emails today, all from physicians around the country, and I hadn't been entirely sure why. This morning I had conducted my interviews and I had mentally made a choice, but something compelled me to dig through the piles of electronic messages.

"You're doing it again."

I glanced up to see my feet had come to a stop while Natasha and Wanda walked ahead. They both looked amused at my distraction. I jogged to catch up to them in the lobby of the Compound, "I'm reading this email—"

"Must be a very interesting email." Natasha hummed while moving her arm so she held the bag of clothes casually over her shoulder.

"It is." I nodded. "I thought I knew who I wanted to work with on the surgery, but this email from a surgeon in Texas is really speaking to me. I don't know. My gut likes this guy a lot even though I haven't seen his face or heard his actual voice. What would you say to that?"

"I'd say he needs a background check first and foremost."

"Obviously, little miss paranoia." I rolled my eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at me, "That's rich coming from you." Natasha followed it up with a shrug, "Go with your gut. You know I won't ever tell you otherwise."

I glanced at Wanda and she shrugged, "Whatever you think is best. If you bring him here I can always see his true intentions."

Natasha nodded and pointed to the teen approvingly. I chuckled and glanced back down at my phone. The orthopedic surgeon from Texas was named Darren Bass. In his email he told a story of how he was a veteran as well as a surgeon and had lost his lower right leg in Iraq. Dr. Bass said he knew what it felt like to suddenly find yourself without a limb and then trying to adjust to the new life ahead of you. He also said he would be honored to offer his services to Captain America. Something about it just felt sincere. At the very least, it was worth it to give the guy a call and talk to him about it in more depth.

"Hey!"

I looked up to see Natasha and Wanda had walked away from me again, but they weren't the ones calling out to me. A girl jogged over to me, no older than 16, with dark braided hair and bangs. She had on light colored jeans rolled up at the bottom, an olive green bowling style shirt with a black long sleeve shirt under it that had the sleeves partly pulled up, and large headphones hanging around her neck. Her red converse looked worn down and a collection of bracelets sat around her left wrist.

"You're Aj Bradshaw!" She chirped. Natasha and Wanda came over to stand by me, and the kid's grin widened, "Wow, the Black Widow! I follow you guys on Instagram." Her eyes focused on Wanda. "I think I saw you on Ms. Bradshaw's story, but I don't know your name sorry."

Wanda smiled with a small nod, "I'm Wanda."

"It's so nice to meet you!" She grinned in unbridled excitement. She pointed to us, "This is crazy. Have you guys met Captain Marvel?" I let my eyes dart to Natasha and mouthed the name in confusion, but she just shrugged. "I've read everything about Carol Danvers and when those SHIELD files got leaked there was even more about her and I know it says she hasn't been seen since like 2001 but I don't believe it."

I tried to cut in, "I don't think we know—"

"Oh, and Ms. Bradshaw, I know you can fight. Have you ever gone on a mission with the Black Widow? I wrote a fic where the two of you did a mission together and it was really popular, but if I have you here I have some questions like—"

"Kid, kid, kid." I said quickly. Most of her words were lost on me. "Slow down. First off", I turned and pointed to Natasha, "Can we do a mission together? That would be so much fun. Wanda, you can come too, and we'll make it a girls' night!" Wanda smiled and Natasha shook her head at me. I turned back to the kid and held my hand out, "Secondly, just call me Aj. Let's start there. It is very nice to meet you."

She quickly shook it, her excitement at the same level as it was before, "I'm Kamala, and actually we met before! It was about a year ago though."

"We did?" I questioned. The women beside me shot me a look, but I shrugged in just as much confusion as them. I didn't recognize this girl at all. Like not even a little.

"I live in Jersey City and my friends dragged me down to the waterfront—"

"Oh no." I mumbled and let my fingers drum over my lips. The waterfront was next door to what used to be the ring. There was no way this story was going to end well.

"This scary guy was yelling at us, and you came out of nowhere covered in blood. Like blood from your nose, and some from your mouth, and your face looked really bruised too."

Natasha chuckled, "Sounds like you so far."

Kamala continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "You punched the guy to the ground, spat at him, and he ran off. Then you turned to us and told us to, 'Go the 'F' home', but you didn't just say 'F'."

"That doesn't sound like something I can deny." I mumbled to myself. My eyebrows furrowed and I sighed, "I don't remember you, but… Sorry, you had to see me like that. I was in a rough place."

Kamala waved her hands at me with a crooked smile, "Hey, you saved me and my friends. I thought you were cool. I tried to tell you that you should go to a hospital, but you laughed and walked away."

Natasha shot me a glare and I gave her a sheepish smile. Hearing that I had poor decision making skills should not be a new argument. I forced my attention back to Kamala, "What were you doing out by the waterfront at that time anyways? If I was walking around bloody that meant it had to at least be 2 in the morning."

"Uh…" Her eyes widened, "Well, it was for this party. It was my friend's idea. I promise we don't do that on the regular. Please don't tell my mom."

"I know your mom too?" I cried in panic.

Kamala laughed, "No! Not yet at least. She's interviewing for a job here right now with Mr. Wilson. You know, the Falcon."

"Yeah, we do know of him." Natasha nodded.

Wanda was the one to ask the million dollar question though, "What does your mom do?"

"Oh, she's a therapist." Well, that was something we needed around here that's for damn sure. We needed a barrel of therapists to work through the baggage we had. Kamala glanced down at her phone when it chimed, "Oh, I gotta go. It was so cool to meet you guys!" She began to hurry off. The girl gave us one last wave, "Thanks again for saving me and my friends before! You and Captain America are a super cute couple!"

"I—uh, you—no—" I called out, but she was already gone.

Natasha chuckled, "Speaking of your oh-so-cute boyfriend, do you plan on talking to him anytime soon?"

I began to walk toward our elevator, "I plead the fifth."

"You can't ignore him forever."

"I can't hear you."

"Kamala was an inhuman." Wanda chimed into our argument nonchalantly. Natasha and I nearly broke our necks spinning to look at her. "Isn't that interesting?"

Bucky shifted in his seat awkwardly. The woman sitting across from him had a warm presence, but she was still a stranger. Sam and Steve dropped him off into this office and then wandered off. Knowing Steve wasn't standing outside the door hearing this awkward event helped but only marginally.

"It truly is an honor to meet you, Mr. Barnes." Muneeba Khan said. Bucky nodded once with a tight smile. Sam told him she was a therapist. He only knew the basics of therapy from his time. There was no telling what modern therapy looked like. "Do you know what I'm here for?"

He shifted in his seat again, "Talking?"

Muneeba chuckled with a nod, "Basically. That's the bare bones of my profession, I suppose. Sam called me in to talk to you and a few other Avengers."

Bucky resisted the urge to clarify that he was far from being an Avenger. He shook his head, "Isn't Sam a therapist too?"

"Not exactly." She shook her head. "Even if he were though, professionally, Sam would rather be in the role of friend rather than therapist. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a third party. We hold things back from people closest to us because we don't want them to see us in a different light."

Bucky thought this over. He couldn't disagree. Steve was always trying to get him to talk, but he found it difficult to speak about certain things. Bucky realistically knew that his best friend wouldn't judge him, even though he probably should, but still he couldn't bring himself to talk about his worst sins. The logical side of his brain told him that Steve would always be there for him, but the thought of seeing Steve scowl at him? Cast him aside? God, it broke him.

"Is that what this is right now? A therapy session?"

"Not an official one. I just wanted to get to know you a little and I'm sure you'd like to know a little more about me." Muneeba replied. He nodded and she began to talk more about her life. She spoke about her family. Her husband, son, and teenage daughter. How they immigrated from Pakistan nearly twenty years ago, and once she got to America she trained as a licensed therapist. She sounded like a lovely woman. "And what about you?"

Bucky blinked, "Me?"

"Sam tells me you're a prisoner of war."

He let out a sad chuckle, "That's…It's not so simple."

"Sam told me you were a POW that was tortured and beaten until you were broken enough for them to take advantage of your mind and free will." Muneeba said in a soft voice that contrasted the harshness of the accurate words. Everyone knew it, but this was the first time someone said it to him in a sentence. They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, "Is that more accurate?"

Bucky nodded and cleared his throat, "That's—Yeah. That's it."

Muneeba smiled again, "Mr. Barnes, I'd like to ask you another question, but if this question bothers you too much or brings up too much pain then feel free to ignore it. Alright?" He nervously nodded. "When all of this happened… Do you think those terrible men changed who you were? Did they take James Buchanan Barnes and twist him into something new or do you think they carved a hole in your mind and placed someone unfamiliar and unwelcome in? How do you feel on that?"

Bucky never thought about that before.

Well…that was a lie.

Every once in a while, the thought would pass, but he'd let it fly by without hesitating long on it. It was a painful subject. It was a terrifying subject. He had a revolving playlist of memories and nightmares flashing through his head. If he lingered on anything for too long he'd get stuck. Now this virtual stranger was asking him to focus in on the thought process? Did he even want to?

The answer was no. He most definitely did not want to. Bucky wanted to bury these thoughts in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. Never to visit them again.

This was about more than just him though. As much as his broken little head told him that he didn't deserve to heal, there was a small voice now that told him he had to. He had to get better for all the people around him. All the people who were risking their well-being just to have him around. He wanted to get better for Steve. He wanted to get better for Aj. This was how you did that right? This was how it worked? You talked it out to somebody like Muneeba and all your problems were solved?

Or something along those lines.

The sudden, shrill of a phone ringing made him jump. Muneeba sighed and quickly turned her phone off, "I am so sorry about that. It was my daughter, I forgot to silence my phone before we began speaking."

"Do you…Do you need to go?" Bucky nodded towards the door. This would be the ideal excuse to bow out of this situation. In fact, he felt like he was halfway out the door already, "I don't want to keep you."

"I have all the time in the world, Mr. Barnes." She replied with another reassuring smile. Bucky mentally re-settled in his seat. "My daughter is a big Avengers fan. Being here at the Compound is a dream come true for her. The longer I stay in here, the happier she is." He chuckled at her words. She motioned to him with her hand. "Please, continue."

Bucky wrung his gloved hands together. So much for that. He bobbed his head once, trying to find where to even begin, what to even say, then sighed, "I don't know. I mean, I guess I do but…" He took in another shaky breath. "It felt like…like… like getting shoved into the passenger seat of a car. A stranger climbed behind my steering wheel and took control. I'd try to push him out, to get my hand back on the controls, but it was pointless. I wasn't strong enough. That left me the option of going to sleep and letting him drive wherever he planned on going or…or just watching it all play out." He glanced down at his hands and let his mind wander down a rabbit hole he didn't often visit. Bucky shook his head. "Steve keeps calling it mind control. I guess that's what it was technically, but…. All the descriptions I've heard of mind control though, nobody ever talks about the fact that you're still there. There's a part of you, watching, and you're fighting and fighting and fighting and— and I just kept losing. Over and over I— I lost that battle every damn time and—" Bucky's voice broke and he took a moment to clear his throat before pushing out the last hoarse part of his sentence, "—that's what made everything so much worse."

He looked up at Muneeba to see a look of concentrated thought on her face. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. Now that he started, it was like the words were just falling out.

"And now I'm back in the driver's seat. I'm behind the wheel. I'm in control, but he—the Soldier is stillthere. He's in the backseat and he wants control again and he's—he's so much better at trying to break loose than I was before." Bucky scoffed. "It took me ages to get control. It took Steve nearly dying for me to finally wake up, but for him—God, he gets so close all the time. It's a constant battle to stay in control."

"I see." Muneeba hummed. "Is there anything that seems to make fighting easier?"

Bucky shrugged, "Aj's broken me out of episodes in the past."

"And who is this Aj?"

"Aj is…" Bucky paused then let out a small chuckle, "She's Aj."

Muneeba smiled with a small nod. There was a beat of silence before she stood up. Bucky quickly rose as well mimicking her action. She set her hand on her chest with a grin, "Mr. Barnes, I would love to work with you on this. Do you think you'd feel comfortable meeting on a weekly basis for now?"

"Um, yeah." Bucky nodded and surprisingly it felt like a good idea. "Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to working with you." Muneeba motioned to the door, "How about we go find your friends and my daughter?"

Bucky crossed the room to open the door for her and motioned her through first. Before stepping out he pulled his hood over his head. They walked down to the lobby, and unsurprisingly according to Muneeba, her daughter had found his friends. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at the young girl who was staring up at Steve like he was a top tier celebrity. He always knew his friend was worthy of that kind of adoration and love. It was nice the world was finally starting to realize it too.

Sam motioned for them to dip out of the crowd towards the side of the room out of sight. Muneeba traded numbers with him so they could get in touch easier, and he promised to come see her in a few days for an official therapy session.

"It was so nice to meet you guys!" The girl said excitedly as her mom began to drag her away. She waved at them one last time, "I met your girlfriend, Captain America! She's so pretty!"

Bucky watched Steve's face turn bright red, and he didn't have to question who she was referring to. It seemed a good half of the world thought him and Aj were involved. Bucky didn't know how he felt about that so he tossed the thought away.

Sam crossed his arms, "You know, Aj texted me earlier. She told me Kamala was inhuman."

"What?" Steve pressed in shock. Bucky was vaguely aware of what that meant and the situation surrounding inhumans right now. Steve shook his head, "What do we do about that?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know. Invite her to family dinner? I mean, geez what is with all these toddlersuperheroes popping up?" The man scoffed. "Avengers are starting to look like the damn Kids Next Door."

"I don't know what that is." Steve replied.

Sam rolled his eyes, "For crying out loud— Come on, let's get tall, dark, and sketchy here out of the lobby before security makes him."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, but the man just grinned in response as they walked back towards the private elevator. He liked Sam. He was actually glad that the man had called someone in for him to be his therapist rather than trying to take the role himself. It was nice to have a friend.

Tony had gone to bed before I did. It was probably a sign of end times. There had been a moment where the genius tried to convince me to go to bed when it usually was the exact opposite. I finally understood why it was so hard to drag Tony out of the lab though. I had started working on the shoulder project again after dinner and it had sucked me. One hour had turned to three which turned to me sitting alone in the lab at 1:46 in the morning.

There were a few more things I wanted to figure out specifics for before Dr. Bass and his Physician Assistant got here tomorrow—er, today, I guess. Tony had agreed that his email had sounded very sincere and his background check via SHIELD had come back clean.

"FRIDAY, show me Tony's blueprints again." I said and the holographic images blinked into existence in front of me. Exhausted, I rubbed my face once and then looked over the schematics again. For all we knew, the ortho surgeon would get here, take one look at our plan, and tell us it was impossible.

I worked for another ten minutes or so, scribbling more notes, when FRIDAY's voice startled me, "Ms. Bradshaw, Captain Rogers told me not to notify anyone of the Red Star alarm that began 2 minutes and 17 seconds ago, but Ms. Maximoff suggested to me earlier this week that I should always contact you."

There was so much jampacked into that one sentence and it took my sleep deprived a couple seconds longer to decipher it all. It finally clicked though, and I jumped off the stool so fast that it fell backwards and clattered on the tile floor. Instead of taking the elevator, I ran to the stairs and took them two at a time to get to the top floor. Just like I was 'Setting Sun', Steve was 'Silver Alert', and Bruce was 'Jolly Green', Tony had set up a program named 'Red Star' to monitor Bucky's vitals constantly.

My handprint was keyed into their apartment's handle so there was nothing to stop me from bursting in. The moment the door opened I heard both Bucky and Steve yelling. I hadn't been in their apartment yet, but it was easy to follow the sounds to the first bedroom. Bucky was crying out as if he were in pain, thrashing on the bed, while Steve held him down so he wouldn't hurt himself and tried to tell him it was just a nightmare.

Steve's eyes snapped to me, "Aj, get the hell out of here!"

"Get off of him!" I yelled back and sprinted forward. I wrapped my hands around his arm and tugged, but my strength was nothing compared to his. Steve yelled for me to get out again, followed by telling Bucky he was alright, and I tugged him as hard as I could again, "Steve! Listen to me!"

Steve finally let go with a grunt and Bucky flew off the bed toward his left. At the same time, Steve jumped off the bed to the right pushed me back into the wall with his entire body covering mine. The room was silent for a moment. Devoid of any sound other than Bucky's ragged breaths. I peeked around Steve's arm, he shifted to try and keep me covered again, but I could see Bucky on his hands and knees. His dark hair acted as a curtain between us.

I tried to step forward, but Steve shot me a glare. With a glare of my own, I pushed against him, "Your way didn't work just now. It's my turn."

"You're not getting any closer to him, Aj." Steve hissed.

"Steve can you please just trust me!?"

"No!" He snapped. My heart ached, but it was dumb of me to ask. Of course, he couldn't trust me. Steve shook his head quickly, a broken look in his eyes, and I wondered how my face looked right now. He sighed, "Not with this. If he accidentally lashes out and hurts you…"

I shook my head, "I won't get close. Please let me try."

Steve slowly slid to the side and I took a few steps forward. The blond wrapped a hand around my wrist and walked with me. Ignoring him, I knelt down dragging him with me. For a moment we just sat there and waited. Bucky's breathing was slowing, but his entire body was too tense. There were plenty of times when Bucky called me as not completely Bucky, but this was the first time I was seeing it in person.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." I whispered and the dark-haired man shook his head. "Bucky to your friends. Your sister's name is Rebecca and you—"

"Stop." Bucky's voice was guttural, and I felt Steve stiffen beside me. I glanced over my shoulder at him and shook my head. With my free hand, I lifted one finger to my mouth. We needed to wait. This is how it went. Bucky was fighting something in his head, and he had to beat that first. At least, that's how he explained it the last time this happened over the phone.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Bucky spoke again and his voice was weak but his, "My name is Bucky."

"Yes, it is. Your name is Bucky. Your best friend's name is Steve." I said then added something I never got to say before over the phone. "Steve is here."

I expected it to help the process along, but his shoulders suddenly stiffened again. Bucky's metal arm whirred, and I jumped when he slammed his fist into the ground shattering the wood beneath him. Steve ripped me up off the ground in one swift movement when Bucky did it again.

"Get out. Get Tony." He barked.

I shook my head, "You have to get out. It's you."

"What—"

"Please." I began to push him toward the door. Bucky slammed his fist into the floor again. "I can do this." Steve leveled a glare at me, tried to drag me out again, but I shot him the most pleading look I could paint on my face. "Please, Steve. Please."

Steve let out a breath of frustration and took a few steps out the door, hands buried in his hair and shoulders tight. I whipped back around to my place on the floor and knelt down again. Bucky wasn't slamming his fist into the floor anymore and that seemed like a good sign.

"Bucky, can you hear me?" I asked. He just shook his head, breathing hard. I slid a little bit closer, "What's my name?" Again, he shook his head. His arm whirred. I scooted another inch closer. "What's my name? You know my name. You always know my name. Remember?"

There was a beat of tight silence before Bucky spoke in a tired whisper, "Aj."

"Yeah." I grinned.

"Aj. You're Aj." Bucky shuddered. "I'm Bucky."

He collapsed to the ground, flipped on his back, and just laid on top of the wooden shards that had broken under his fist. Bucky was drenched in sweat and still breathing heavy. I slid even closer, so I was sitting right by his head, and reached out to him.

"Don't." Bucky said.

"You're not going to hurt me. You're back. I can tell." I replied with ease. I truly could. I could hear it in his voice. He won the fight in his head. "Can I touch you?"

After a second, Bucky nodded, and I quickly pulled his head onto my lap and began to run my fingers through his sweaty hair. His eyes fluttered close, and he mumbled apologies, but I just hummed over his soft voice. I traced my fingers over his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, along his jawline. It was something Granny did for me anytime I came home from a bad fight all worked up. The light touches, after all those harsh ones, was relaxing.

"Steve was my last mission. I never finished it." Bucky said in defeat. A harsh sob. "I'm going to hurt him."

"No, you're not. You don't want to hurt him. You stopped yourself. You won."

"The Soldier wants to finish that last mission so badly." Bucky sighed and my heart broke at the tears that dripped from the corners of his closed eyes. "What if I can't stop him? What he takes control again? What if…What if I hurt him? God, what if I hurt Steve I—"

I shushed him and wiped away the tears, "You'd never hurt him. Stop torturing yourself like this, Bucky. You love him so much. You'd never hurt him. You'd never."

The man under my fingertips took in deep breaths and slowly began to calm. I heard arguing outside the bedroom, and I glanced at the door just in time to see Tony stick his head in. There was a glow at his hands that told me he had his gauntlets on. Either FRIDAY gave in and told him what was going on or he heard the pounding of Bucky's fist. Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow at me, unhappy at my placement, but I shook my head at him. His lips pressed together tightly, but I just furrowed my eyebrows at him. With a sigh, he slipped back out of the room to argue with Steve again.

"How do you feel?" I asked, returning my attention to the man in my lap.

"Better." Bucky swallowed. "More clear. Thank you."

His stormy eyes slowly opened, and I gave him a smile, "You know you never have to thank me." I traced my fingers down the bridge of his nose and his eyes fluttered in response. "Do you wanna take a shower? I think that might help."

"Can… Can we stay here? Just for another minute?" Bucky asked—begged.

"We can stay here for the rest of forever if you need it." I replied. It was quiet again, and I continued to trace his features. My fingers dragged through the scruff on his face, and I chuckled, "I really like your beard."

Bucky's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle, "Natasha Romanoff says it makes me look homeless."

"That just means she likes you." I hummed.

"Thanks for the clothes too. I like what you picked out for me." Bucky said.

I raised an eyebrow at him even though his eyes were closed, "How do you know what I picked out?"

"Natasha put it all in a separate bag with a note that said 'This was all Aj. I do not approve' on it." He laughed breathlessly, and I rolled my eyes. She would.

My hand combed through his hair, "I remember what you said about how colorful some of today's fashion is. And you said you liked soft material. And you run hot. Honestly, it was a match made in heaven."

"I love it." He mumbled. "And the jacket?"

"I just think you'd look super good in a jean jacket."

Bucky chuckled again and we went back to a peaceful silence. Another couple minutes passed before he began to sit up. I asked him if he was sure, but he just nodded. I stood up as well and stared at him while he stared at the broken boards between us. Bucky finally lifted his gaze to meet mine.

"I think I'm gonna take that shower now." Bucky leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on the top of my head, "Thanks, doll."

I squeezed his arm once as he passed and waited until he closed the bathroom door before walking out. Right outside of Bucky's bedroom, Steve leaned against the wall with his head downcast and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He lifted his gaze to me, and we just stared at one another for what felt like forever.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked quietly. I nodded and quickly turned to walk towards the living room. Their apartment was very open with a large living room and open kitchen. Both bedrooms branched off from the main space. I sat down on the couch pulling my knees up to lean my chin against them. Steve took a seat on the couch adjacent to me and I was both relieved and disappointed that he didn't sit next to me. Damn my torn heart. "I couldn't help him."

My eyes widened, "Steve—"

"If you hadn't come up… How did you know to come up?"

"FRIDAY told me. I was in the lab." I replied. "Wanda told FRIDAY a while back to notify me on these things, but I'm not sure what that's about."

Steve leaned one elbow on his knee and cupped his mouth with the same hand, "I was useless to him." His hair was an absolute mess, and I knew it was because he had been running his hand through it. It was one of his tics when he was frustrated. "Hell, I made it worse."

I shook my head, "It's not your fault. Steve…" I paused to find the right wording. "Sometimes when he had a bad episode, he'd call me. I'd always be able to tell by his voice that he wasn't fully himself and ages ago he told me what helps him. This was your first time experiencing one of his episodes, but… I've dealt with a handful." Steve's gaze was piercing, and I forgot how powerful those electric blue eyes were. I shook my head, "And… I don't know if you heard, but he said—"

"I did." Steve cut me off with a nod. "I did."

"That's not your fault. Him reacting like that." I said, but it didn't seem like my words comforted him like I had hoped they would.

The two of us sat in silence and I didn't know where to go from here. I didn't know what to say. The worst of the episode was over. If Bucky needed to talk about the nightmare he had Steve here to help him through that. I was probably going to get a lecture from Tony, but he'd probably wait until morning. I cleared my throat and stood, "I think I'm gonna head to bed—"

"Why are you avoiding me?" Steve suddenly asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, "Can we not get into this right now?"

"I'm sorry."

"Steve—"

"I'm sorry, and I… I miss you, Aj." Steve said and I felt my chest ache at his words. I missed him too, but the note I had left him had been clear and true. I didn't deserve him in my life. Yeah, he missed me now, but what happens when I hurt him again? I didn't trust myself not to. The one thing I didn't want to do was hurt him and seeing the betrayal and pain in his eyes had been gutting. "Tell me what I have to do to fix this. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it, Aj."

I shook my head with a sad laugh, "Fix it? Jesus, Steve, you just don't get it."

"No, I don't." Steve stood in determination. "So, tell me. I hate watching you leave the room every time I come in. Your excuses aren't as foolproof as you think. Explain to me what I have to do to fix this!"

"Stop!" I snapped. My hands were shaking, and my throat felt tight, like I was on the verge of tears. Even now I was hurting him. Damned if I don't, and damned if I do. It seemed like there was no scenario that kept him safe from me. I shook my head, "It's not—It's not you."

"Then what is it?"

"I can't—I can't do this right now, Steve. Please." I moved to leave the living room, but as I began to pass him, he reached out and caught my wrist. Steve squeezed once, but I refused to turn around. "Please let go. Steve, I'm sorry, but please."

His warm hand fell, and I hurried for the front door. Steve was hurting right now and every ounce of me wanted to turn around and comfort him. To fix this. That was a temporary solution though. It'd be like a band-aid over a bullet wound. I was the problem and, after what I did, I didn't trust myself to not hurt him again. I refused to be his downfall so even though every step away from him felt like a sucker punch to the gut, I kept moving.

Clint scratched behind Lucky's ear. The dog had his head resting in his lap as he sat on the ground. It had been a long time since he got to spend so much time with the golden retriever. Lucky had really taken to Kate and Clint couldn't find it in himself to separate them.

He glanced up to see Star hadn't moved from her spot on the floor and was still coloring. Clint's eyes drifted to his watch to see it was officially 3 in the morning. The Asgardian's sleep schedule was fucking wild. He sighed and watched as her dark hand scribbled wildly over the paper like a person possessed. Clint wondered how the kid got lost on Earth in the first place. They didn't have enough clues to even piece together a theory, and anytime they asked Star directly she'd only say she fell. Clint wasn't sure if tripping on Asgard and faceplanting in Earth was a common thing, but he hoped they could do something to get her home. Star never talked about family, to the few people she'd actually talk to, but somebody out there had to be missing her.

"Hey, Star." Clint called out. The little girl looked up to meet his gaze. He gave her a smile, "You wanna come hang out at my house? We got a pool and games and a glowing teenager. I think you'd really like it."

Star stared for a second before pushing up off the ground. She grabbed the paper she was working on and walked over to him. The little girl leaned toward him and whispered quietly, "Will Lucky come with us?"

Clint grinned at her, excited to have her speak to him finally, "Absolutely. Lucky would miss you too much if he didn't." Star's lips curled up in a smile of her own and she bounced in place. He motioned to the paper in her hand, "Did you finish drawing?"

"Mhmm." She hummed and handed it over to him before kneeling down to rub her hands through Lucky's fur.

He flipped the paper around to see the picture and his eyes widened. Like all her artwork it was done in thick crayon and her skills were that of a seven-year-old. Still, Clint was able to clearly see that the person on the right side of the paper was Thor. She drew him with the red cape, blond hair, and his magic hammer. The man on the left side obviously had to be Bucky Barnes. One arm was drawn black to match the clothes and the other was gray. The issue was that cartoon Bucky Barnes was pointing a gun at Thor, and cartoon Thor's chest was splattered with red.

Clint made a clicking noise with his tongue, "Well, this could be problematic."