Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm glad you're all enjoying the story! Just a quick note to thank theicemenace for her help in this chapter. She really cleaned up the dialogue and made it more natural. Also, for those of you who know I tend to update regularly, I won't be doing that this story. I'm currently focusing on an original novel I need to have finished before the end of October, so this is my "taking a break" story. There's only seven chapters, and it shouldn't be longer than a week between updates. As always, hope you enjoy! ~lg

oOo

After Natasha's visit, Steve Rogers stared at the door and tried to figure out why she thought he, of all people, would be able to connect with Agent Barton. In the short time since the Chitauri attack, Barton had distanced himself from everyone save for Agent Romanoff. Even then, he didn't seem inclined to talk much, and Steve doubted he would be very successful in pulling off any kind of heart-to-heart.

Rather than worrying over it, he decided to do his homework. Leaving the gym, he showered, dressed, and packed a bag. He had done this not long ago, intending to ride his motorcycle through the continental United States and "see the world," as Fury had suggested. Within a week, he'd been called back to New York for the Council's inquiry. At that time, Stark gave all of the Avengers an open-ended invitation to stay for a while in his tower as it was rebuilt, and Steve now planned to answer that call. It put him in the same city as Barton and gave him a chance to observe the archer. It took only a few words of concern, and Fury happily allowed one of SHIELD's pilots to fly him to New York. He soon knocked on Stark's door. The billionaire blinked in surprise but didn't say a word as he admitted Steve and showed him to a massive guest suite.

Over the next several days, Steve found Barton in the destroyed portion of Manhattan. His presence created a stir, something the archer wasn't thrilled about, but the two men managed to get a good amount of work done. In the evenings, Steve watched Barton disappear into the shadows and wearily made his way back to Stark Tower. Now he understood Agent Romanoff's concern. Barton was not the same man who had stood on that building and called out the shots during the Chitauri invasion. Somewhere along the way, the determination and almost lighthearted practicality had faded into despondency and apprehension. Steve saw it on Barton's face every time someone approached him.

He supposed he understood. Not completely, as Romanoff had pointed out. But some level of Barton's pain was familiar to Steve. He remembered things he'd seen in the war, things that the Nazis did to other human beings that still caused nightmares. And he would never forget watching Bucky tumble to his death. That moment, in those snow-covered mountains, was forever etched into Steve's memory. The streets of Manhattan reminded him of war-torn villages he'd traveled through during the war. The expressions on faces called to mind the refugees he'd rescued. It startled him to feel the same grief and desire to erase all signs of the attack.

Nearly a week passed, and Steve failed to figure out where Barton spent the nights. He asked Pepper Potts, who gracious admitted that Barton hadn't taken up Stark's offer of an indefinite apartment rent-free in the luxurious tower. That worried Steve more than a little. He knew Barton was a big boy and could defend himself, but if the archer felt the need to go off the grid for a bit. . . .Well, Steve wasn't above imagining the worst and hoping for the best.

In the end, he found Barton completely by accident. While on base, he'd overheard several SHIELD agents commenting on a place Agent Coulson had liked to frequent. According to those two, the place was upscale, somewhat expensive, and relaxing. They hadn't taken time to go there, but others had paid homage to the fallen agent by visiting at least once and drinking a snifter of Courvoisier VSOP Exclusif, Coulson's favorite. Tired from another long day working in the same vicinity as Agent Barton, Steve slipped through the door and looked around. Soft music played in the background while men talked, the dark wood paneling absorbing the fading daylight and reflecting the golden glow of the light bulbs. In one corner, a group of men smoked cigars and discussed some merger that would happen in two days. A couple of the dark brown leather seats were filled, but only one man sat at the actual bar. Steve blinked and tilted his head to the side as Barton knocked back a shot glass and nudged it across the marble surface toward the barkeep. The archer never glanced up as Steve approached.

The barkeep, however, met this eyes expectantly, so Steve skimmed the bottles on the top shelf. "I'd like the VSOP Exlusif, neat."

The barkeep followed gaze. "Warmed?"

"Yes." Steve slipped onto the barstool next to Barton, not at all surprised when the barkeep set the bottle of whiskey between them. Instead of staring, Steve watched as the barkeep warmed a brandy snifter and poured a bit of the cognac into the glass. After warming it a bit more, the man delivered it to Steve with a polite nod. Steve picked it up, swirled it a touch, and then took a sip. "That's good."

Barton eyed him. "You here to drink or checking in on me?"

Steve heard the slight slur to his words. "Should I be checking in on you?"

Barton huffed and sipped at his shot glass. "I dunno. Should you?"

"You're drunk."

"Yeah?" Barton turned to face him then. "Why else would I come here? To make sure you get a good drink?"

Steve had to admit Barton had him there. "I wasn't following you, if that's what you're asking. I overheard several people discussing this place back on base."

Barton accepted that almost immediately. He nodded, his face falling. "Yeah, Coulson was a regular." He shifted and went back to staring at the bar. "He liked the cognac, too."

"So I've been told." Steve heard the bitterness in Barton's tone and took another sip of his drink. For a moment, the two men were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Steve remembered Coulson, remembered his hero worship and the bitter anger he felt when he realized he'd failed the man. He couldn't guess what Barton, who had known and trusted Coulson, felt in this moment. While it was Loki who killed Coulson, Barton had been turned against SHIELD and everyone who believed in him. Men didn't get over that sort of betrayal, especially when they had no control over it. That Loki had done the turning. . . .That certainly didn't help Barton's guilt.

Finally, Barton sighed. "I'm fine."

Steve suddenly sensed his opening. "Really? Because Agent Romanoff's worried enough to talk to me about it."

That got a reaction. Barton whirled on his stool and blinked, sitting up straighter. "Natasha's worried?"

"About you."

Barton waved a hand dismissively. "She'll get over it."

"I don't think she will." Steve met the archer's eyes, seeing shadows beneath them that indicated the man hadn't slept well in weeks. "Look, I know you're dealing with stuff right now that we can't imagine, but you've got a group of people who are here for you. If you'll let us in."

Barton laughed suddenly, not the reaction Steve expected. "You think spilling my guts is gonna fix this?"

"That's not what I said."

"Then what are you saying?"

"That you're a member of my team." He narrowed his eyes when Barton glared at him. "Hey, I didn't put just anyone on that building that day. I wanted you there. Know why?"

Barton gestured with another shot glass of whiskey. "Enlighten me."

"Because you were the best person for the job. And I trusted you to make the right call."

Barton snickered again, telling Steve he needed to release emotion somehow and laughing was better than crying. "Yeah, well. . . .That was a special circumstance."

"No, it wasn't." Steve leaned forward, not crowding the other man but letting him know how serious he'd become. "Next time we get into a situation, I want you calling the shots like that again. Not Stark, not Romanoff, and certainly not Banner. You. You see things better from a distance, remember? If anyone is going to have the bigger picture and know what needs doing next, it'll be you."

Barton drew in a deep breath and blew it out forcefully, his face betraying his emotions. He stared at the shelves behind the bar, his eyes not seeing much of anything. "And what happens when I make a wrong call?"

"You won't." Steve waited for his words to make an impact through the alcohol and emotion. When they did, he lowered his voice even more. "It's not about the one mistake, Barton. It's about living day by day, doing what you know to do. Eventually, it does get better. It gets easier. And it starts by trusting yourself and trusting those closest to you."

As the other man nodded once, Steve stood and tugged some cash from his pocket. Barton never glanced at him as he paid his tab and walked out of the bar, his drink sitting almost untouched. Outside, Steve leaned against the wall and peered in through the cut-glass windows. Barton didn't see him, a testament to how drunk the archer had managed to become over the course of the evening. Steve watched as Barton mulled over what he'd said and then set aside his glass. After paying his own tab, he walked toward the door and sent Steve rushing away so he wasn't caught spying.

Steve had just made it to Stark Tower and settled into his room when he heard voices coming down the hallway. Pepper was talking to someone, letting the other person know he was welcome as long as he wanted to stay there. Steve moved to the door, listening and then smiling when he recognized Barton's gruff voice softly thank her. A moment later, a door closed, and all was quiet.

Steve walked over to the large windows and sighed. So maybe Natasha was right. Maybe Barton did need to be reminded that his "team leader" trusted him. In the long run, only time would heal the wound. But Steve would settle for Barton getting some sleep and believing in the unlikely group of people around him. It had kept him sane in the last couple of weeks, and it would work for Hawkeye. Steve was certain of it.