Sorry for the delay everyone! I really didn't intend for it to take this long! I hope you're all still out there!

Chapter Five

"Oh my God, Aury, will you train me?!" he queried excitedly, nearly bouncing off of his stool, an excited little puppy if ever I saw one, "we could be a team and then I could join the Avengers and we could fight crime and it would be so frickin' awesome!"

"How 'bout I make you muffins and give you some pointers for now?" I bartered.

He beamed, nodding fervently, "I'll take it!"

Peter sat on the cozy, leather couch, staring over the arm at me in awe as I worked the muffins out of the tin and arranged them on a plate. I didn't need to spare the young crime fighter a glance; the weight of his gaze had followed me about the kitchen since I had forced him to take a seat and stop pestering me with questions.

At least he had sat down.

"So how many superheroes do you know?" he queried, chin propped up on a fist as he watched me, "like, the Avengers and stuff? Who else?"

"A ton of people," I replied vaguely, tossing him a muffin and smirking as he caught it with his amazing reflexes, only to drop it on his lap and wave his hand in pain at the heat of it, "it's good to make connections when you're in this line of work. Never know who you might need to ask for a favor."

"Do you know, like, Wolverine?" he inquired excitedly, sitting up on his knees, eyes wild with excitement, "and Deadpool? What about Daredevil? Do you have an archnemesis, Aury?!"

"Uh, not unless you count carbs," I winked, leaning against the island and lifting a shoulder, "I think by extension I might've picked up a few enemies; Loki's not too happy with me, I'd think. Magneto, Sabretooth. Most of the other big baddies I've come across are dead now, or locked up for life. Can't really do anything to me when they're behind bars. And those guys, yes I know them. Not Daredevil so well, but-"

My phone buzzed and I retrieved it, opening Steve's text and frowning. The funeral for Peggy was in two days; contrary to what I expected, it seemed as though her family had expected her passing to be sooner rather than later and arrangements had already been made. That made it the day before the Sokovian Accords were to be signed. If Steve - or I - wanted to be back in time for it, we would have to plan our travel time out.

I didn't think he'd go for that, though.

And, in all honesty, I didn't really feel comfortable putting myself in a room with hundreds of people who didn't want my help or, probably even felt safe in my company.

So I simply replied that I would be ready to travel when he was and that I could make the arrangements if necessary. He told me that Peggy's family was handling it, and that he, Sam, and I wouldn't have to worry about the light or the hotel. We were to leave the next afternoon, get settled, and go to the church the following morning.

I hadn't realized Peter was still grilling me until he hopped onto the island beside me, peering over my shoulder and reading my texts, "Are you texting Captain America?!"

/

I met up with Sam and Steve the next afternoon at La Guardia, offering the troubled super soldier a sympathetic smile. Rubbing his arm, I queried, "How ya holding up, Cap?"

He managed a smile, though it didn't meet his bright blue gaze, and shrugged helplessly, "I'm alright. I just… it's not fair, ya know?"

"I know," I sighed, wrapping him in a warm hug and patting his back, "you know we're here for you, right? Me and Sam."

"I'm not here for hugs, though," the Falcon replied with an exaggerated eye roll, clapping his friend's shoulder as he laughed, "Aury can do that job. I'm just here for moral support; a metaphorical shoulder to cry on."

"My shoulder is free and open for any tears you may need to shed, Steve," I grinned, though there was truth to my words and he squeezed me tightly, heeding them, before letting me go, "alright, so I get the window seat, right?"

"Go for it," Steve laughed, rubbing hastily at his nose and shaking his head, offering me a sidelong grin as we made for the terminal, "I've had enough of staring out of plane windows for a lifetime."

"I'll fight you for it," Sam replied with a feigned glower, "I don't wanna be squished in the middle; it's only fair the smallest gets squished."

"C'mon, I always get squished!" I rolled my eyes dramatically, leaning against Steve as we handed our boarding passes to the stewardesses, "it's not fair!"

"I'm gonna have to go with Sam on this one," Steve smirked, tossing our bags into the overhead compartment with ease, holding me back as Sam shimmied his way into the window seat, "I don't have to try and squeeze into my seat if you're in the middle."

"But then you guys squeeze into mine!" I cried, grinning as Steve laughed, grateful that I could at least provide some amusement to the upset soldier, "fine, I'll sit in the middle. At least that way you won't stuff me into the overhead, too."

"Keep up with the lip and we just might," Sam snorted, earning a slap upside the head from me as I buckled in for a long flight between two large guys.

/

The takeoff had been smooth, though not enough for Steve, apparently; my hand still ached from his vice-like grip and we had been in the air for three hours already.

Sam was staring out of the window, headphones in his ears and his head bobbing along to the beat. Steve was reading a book, at least, he pretended to; he hadn't turned the page for at least twenty-five minutes.

Dropping my own book to my lap, I turned to him, querying softly, "When's the last time you saw Peggy?"

He hummed, comprehending the question belatedly, lowering the book and replying, "A few months ago. I- I wanted to go more often, but her health and memory were just getting so bad; her daughter didn't want me to come anymore. And I didn't want to disobey her wishes. I don't know if Peggy asked for me after that; if she did, no one ever told me."

"I think she probably knew how much you wanted to be there, Steve," I replied, lips drawn to one side in a sad smile, "she knew how much she meant to you. From all of your stories, she was an amazing woman, and brilliant. She knew."

"I hope so," he sighed, dropping his head as a tear or two escaped. I caught his hand, resting my head on his shoulder and asking hopefully, "Tell me about her. About one of your missions with her and the Howling Commandos. Remember her like that; that's how she would've wanted it, I think."

I looked ahead to allow him some privacy to wipe away his stray tears and he let out a huffing laugh, "Alright then. Let's see… there was a time where we heard of some HYDRA agents camping out in a small city - Goslar - in Germany. Reports were that there were only a handful, maybe twelve, fifteen. We thought it would be easy enough to infiltrate, take care of the HYDRA agents, liberate the town. Turns out our intelligence was way off and there were sixty, not fifteen. I told them to let me go in alone, but Peggy wasn't having it. Neither was Bucky. God, the pair of them together were like some unstoppable force; I didn't stand a chance against them."

Grinning, I imagined the massive soldier being cowed by the whirlwind that was Peggy Carter and his best friend. It was an impressive thought; Peggy was what all of us girls strived to be, Nat most especially. And to have someone care about you as much as Bucky did for Steve - and vice versa - it was a charming, heart-warming thing.

"So we went in together, went building to building," Steve continued, "the guys were having the time of their lives; all of them together, HYDRA never stood a chance. And Peggy… she was right there, in the thick of it. Taking out agents left and right, looking… breathtaking while doing it."

He took a moment to clear his throat and I remained silent, waiting for him to carry on, which he did with a laugh, "I got shot. Just standing there, staring at her. Bucky had my back, of course, took the guy out without blinking, but… he had to go and call me out on it. The look on Peggy's face - and probably mine… If he weren't my best friend, I probably would've shot him. I wish he were here now. The old Bucky. The Bucky I knew, grew up with. He's been through hell and I wasn't there for him."

"You couldn't have been, Steve," I assured him, patting his arm and righting myself, staring up at him with a hard frown, "don't take the blame for that. You were under ice for decades. You couldn't have stopped it. And you didn't know when you woke up; no one did. What happened to him was unimaginable, but don't for once think you caused it."

"It's just- I lost Peggy," he sighed, rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes, "I lost her, and he's the only one left. He may not remember that, but I do. And I remember who he used to be. I can't lose him, too."

"You won't," I replied vehemently, "you'll find him. And I'll help you. Help him. He needs all the help - all the friends - he can get. I don't mind being one."

Steve grinned down at me, teary-eyed, and thanked me, "He really would like you, Aurelie."

The seatbelt light flashed on and the captain's voice echoed through the plane, announcing our imminent arrival in London. Steve latched onto my hand and I winced, making a mental note to get an ice pack when we reached the hotel.

/

In a small marketplace in Bucharest, Bucky Barnes moved like a shadow amongst the stalls and carts. He carried his small bag of plums through the crowd, intent on reaching the little newsstand before it ran out of papers.

Nobody paid him mind, but that didn't mean he wasn't on high alert. He could never be certain when someone - anyone - would recognize him as the Winter Soldier, and then he would be well and truly fucked. He had outrun the American authorities, SHIELD, Steve Rogers for as long as he could and he didn't intend on being taken in anytime soon.

He knew.

He knew he deserved to be punished for the crimes he had committed but a part of him, a part he recalled from the vague memories he had from his past before he had been taken, twisted, brainwashed, that refused to let him turn himself in. He hadn't meant to do those things. It wouldn't make much difference to any governing power; he had been the one to do them, regardless of his desire in the matter.

And whatever punishment they would concoct for him was nothing compared to the torment he put himself through every day. He remembered the faces, remembered the names.

Remembered the ways he had tortured them, killed them. Now that he remembered them, he couldn't allow himself to forget. It was an insult to them, every last one of the innocents he had murdered for HYDRA and the highest bidder.

His metallic arm trembled as he reached the stand and he was grateful that the sunglasses perched on his nose hid the despair in his eyes from the vendor. He asked for a paper and read over the headline, a frown growing on his bearded face.

MARGARET "PEGGY" CARTER DIES, AGED 95

Peggy Carter.

The same Peggy Carter that had helped train Steve Rogers, his best friend from… before. The same woman his formerly tiny friend had fallen in love with. He had thought of the lovely brunette from time to time, recalled Steve's infatuation with her. She had been a helluva woman, and yet, time hadn't stopped for her the way it had for Steve. Age had caught up with her in a way that it never had - and possibly never would - for himself.

He read over the article, wondering if Captain America would make an appearance at her funeral. It was in London, the following day. He could have gone, might have gone, if his path hadn't been so skewed from Steve's.

If they had both been on that plane - he had learned of his awakening when he was in HYDRA's clutches, but it had meant nothing until his memories began to return - perhaps they both would have been frozen. If he hadn't fallen off of the train, hadn't been taken by the hands of evil, maybe he would have been by his best friend's side. Perhaps they both would have awoken in a new century, one without the serum and one with.

He had contemplated these things time and again, but it never did any good to dwell on them. Whether or not Steve Rogers wanted to see him again didn't matter; he could be taken in by any agency in the world, as long as he never had to see Rogers again.

He didn't think he could withstand the forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve.

Tucking the paper under his arm, he made his way back to his meager apartment, his mind drifting to fragmented memories of a mission to a small German city, of a bullet to Steve's side, and his immediate retaliation against the one who had hurt his lovestruck best friend.

A sad smile painted his face as he wished, not for the first time, that his life had taken a different course.

/

I knew Natasha was at the back of the church, dressed in a conservative black dress, but I doubted Steve even realized it. I watched him from the front pew, seated beside Sam, as Steve stood at Peggy's side one last time, escorting her to the altar, tears trekking steadily down his face.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and righted myself in the pew as he and the others set the casket down beside a beautiful, black and white photograph of one of the foundering members of SHIELD. He miserably made his way to my side, dropping himself into the seat and exhaling shakily.

Sam leaned over me to give him a comforting pat on the leg while I hooked my arm through his. The captain smiled sadly, grateful for our company, and turned his attention to the reverend. He commended Peggy for her bravery, for her intelligence, for her grace and love for her family. He even asked Peggy's niece, Sharon, to speak, much to the surprise of Steve.

Though I assumed it had more to do with the fact that it was Agent 13 and not an unfamiliar stranger.

I wasn't friends with Sharon, though we had met before and had even gone for drinks with Nat before. She knew Steve, as well, though he apparently had no idea that she was related to Peggy. If anyone should have known, though, it was him, and as the service ended and she stepped up beside him, I allowed them their privacy.

That was one awkward conversation that I didn't need to be a part of.

Making my way toward the back, I met up with Nat, hugging her and smiling, "Steve'll be glad you're here. Tony couldn't make it?"

She had decided, rather last minute, to join us in London the night before, promising that she would try to drag Stark along with her. As much as they hated to admit it, Steve and Tony were friends, and it would have meant a lot to Steve for the mechanic to be present.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "He's in a mood. Ever since that lady jumped him at MIT, he's been pretty gungho about these Accords. And since Steve is the main opponent-"

"Uh, I said I wasn't part of it either," I quirked a brow, "what, is he mad at me too?"

"Not as much," Natasha let out a sarcastic laugh, "you know him and Steve. They're always going at it. It was about time something put them at odds; it's been a while."

"I understand Tony's point, I really do," I sighed, running a hand through my hair, "but I dunno, Nat. I don't think the Accords is the way to go."

"What way should we go then?" she inquired, though there was no malice to her tone. She folded her arms across her chest, frowning in defeat. "This is the only option. I don't like picking sides, and I hate picking Ross's side, but this might be the only way for us to stick together."

"I know," I clicked my tongue, I just don't know if we can all stick together because of this

Steve approached the pair of us, wrapping Natasha in a hug; I waved at the pair of them and slipped from the church, falling into place beside Sam as he waited, seated on the steps, for the super soldier. He offered me a warm smile and tipped his head toward the interior of the church.

"I heard what you said to Steve yesterday, on the plane," he stated, "about helping him with Barnes. It means a lot to him. And me. God knows I can't keep up with him half the time, especially when he thinks we're on the trail. Having another person shoulder some of that will be great."

"Well, I know you two have been looking for him forever," I noted, laughing as he shoved me good-naturedly, "I want to help. Steve deserves to have the one remaining person from his past back in his life. And Bucky deserves more than a life on the run. Even after all he's done, he's still just a man with half a memory. He needs help. And reconciling with Steve, that's gonna be good for him. And good for Steve. It's a win-win. And I think I'll be able to help if Bucky's, ya know, less than cooperative."

"Pretty sure he will be," Sam snorted, "he almost killed Steve last time he saw him."

"But he saved him, too," I replied, "there's still a chance for Bucky to redeem himself. And I think we can help him take it."

/

So, I thought I'd throw a little Bucky in there! Not entirely thrilled with this chapter, but I am looking forward to when they meet up! It's gonna be great :D Please review!