The softness underneath her body confused Kim, who opened her eyes to the gentle morning light pouring in through her bedroom window.

Her bedroom? She lifted her head from her pillow. Sure enough, her nightstand clock read 7:24 a.m., and she was still donning her clothes from yesterday. The last thing she remembered was being down in the living room, watching her movie with…

Throwing off her comforter, Kim ignored the chill of the wooden floor beneath her bare foot, heading for the doorway with only one thought on her mind: where was Bucky? Making her way down the hall, she came to the last open door on the right—

—and came to an immediate halt. She released a quiet sigh of relief when she saw Bucky was fast asleep in the guest room, though she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as she gazed upon him. Bucky wasn't sleeping in the bed, but down on the hard wood floor, the comforter from the bed pulled down on top of him.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe and watched him silently. Evidently, it had been ages since the man had slept on something as soft as a mattress, something that many soldiers seemed to have in common. Even Steve and some of the Iron Wings members had mentioned how long it took to get re-acclimated to their beds following lengthy deployments.

But she set her jaw against her heartache. Having him asleep here on the floor was better than seeing those photos of his forced slumber inside of a cryo-tube. Far better. From where she stood, she could see the crease lining his brow, but otherwise, he was resting peacefully. At least, she hoped it was peacefully. A small part of her wanted to come close and pull the comforter over his shoulder, but her rational side advised against it, not unless she wanted a repeat of yesterday. No; he was here, and she was content to let him lay there and rest for as long as he needed. Hopefully, he'd wake long before Aunt Laura arrived.

Reaching for the door knob, Kim slowly pulled the door closed, leaving it open just a crack before heading down the hall to Rebecca's room. After swabbing her grandmother's mouth and checking her catheter bag, she washed her hands and face in the bathroom, then made her way down the stairs, contemplating what to fix them for breakfast. Aunt Laura hadn't bothered to call or text, so she could only assume that she was still on her way. In the meantime, she could make sure to have something ready for Bucky when he woke up. Hard to say what he might like for breakfast, but he was certainly going to get something more substantial than Hot Pockets.

Eggs, she thought. Bacon and eggs. That'd be decent. And toast. Simple and cliché, but no doubt he and Steve used to eat like that all the time when they were kids. Perhaps it would be nostalgic for him, she actually gave a slight smirk. No milk, though; maybe orange juice instead. Yeah, that'd work. Hmm, I bet he eats a lot; probably need to stop by the grocery store later on to-

Rounding the banister at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped dead in her tracks as Aunt Laura closed the front door behind her, setting her suitcase on the floor. Kim's stomach plummeted. Oh God...

Laura Proctor lifted her eyes to Kim's, and even from a distance, she could see how bloodshot and tired they were. She'd once been a striking woman with her dark hair and chocolate-colored eyes, and a slender frame that often turned heads as she walked by. But years of mental and emotional stress had clearly taken their toll on her, which had only been amplified following the death of her younger brother. The woman looked as though she hadn't slept in days, and who could blame her? Her mother's health had been fading for the past several months, and on top of maintaining her businesses, she traveled from Virginia to Maryland almost every weekend to spend as much time with her as possible.

But the discovery of an extra occupant in this house was not going to go over well with her aunt, and Kim's mind scrambled to figure out how to keep her away from Bucky without arousing her suspicions. Opening her mouth to speak-

"How's Mom?" Aunt Laura turned her back as she spoke, hanging her blue parka on the coat rack.

The words failed Kim, who flinched internally at the question. I'm okay, Aunt Laura; thanks for asking. But she pushed her disappointment aside, knowing their focus needed to be on Rebecca for the time being. "Um...she..." She stammered, unable to think of what to say, so when Laura turned to her, she simply shook her head.

Laura's dark eyes seemed to shimmer, and before Kim could think of anything else to say, she was making her way toward the stairs.

A mild panic welled in Kim's throat, but she tried not to let it show. "Wait, aren't you hungry?" She tried to stall, but when Laura brushed her aside and climbed the steps, she raised her voice, hoping Bucky would hear. "Don't you want to eat first?"

"Later, Kim," was all she said, reaching the top of the stairs and making a beeline for Rebecca's room.

Kim followed, watching from the doorway as her aunt froze mid-step, a hand going to her mouth as she took in her mother's appearance, and Kim's heart clenched when Laura rushed over to Rebecca's side, collapsing upon her chest and sobbing quietly. Kim bowed her head. Soon, they'd both be without their mothers, a commonality she wished would bring them closer together, but...

Releasing a sigh, she quietly entered the room, retrieving the chair from the wall and bringing it to her grandmother's bedside in case Laura wanted to use it. Taking a few steps back, her eyes saddened as she took in the sight before her. It didn't matter how difficult their relationship was; right now, Laura was a child already mourning her mother, and Kim knew it was only going to get worse from here.

"I'll, um..." She started, "I'll make some breakfast. Just...come down if you want anything, okay?"

Laura said nothing, just kept her face buried against her mother's chest.

Pursing her lips, Kim turned on her heel and left the room, partially to give her time alone with Rebecca, but mostly because she had to get to Bucky before Laura stumbled upon him. Whether he wanted her to know about him or not remained to be seen, and Kim wanted him to be the one to make that choice.

Not running, but briskly walking down the hall, she pushed open the door of the guest room to find…to find that it was empty. Her heart sank. The comforter was still in a twisted pile on the floor, her eyes lifting to the open window just above his makeshift bed, seeing the sheer white curtains billowing softly on the breeze. Bucky had made his choice: despite her also being family, he didn't want to be found by Aunt Laura.

She sighed. Then that's his choice, she thought with resignation, entering the room and kneeling to touch the hem of the comforter. It was still warm. So he had heard them from downstairs; it had given him enough time to make his escape. As much as she hated admitting it to herself, it was probably for the best. While Laura was here, it would have been impossible to keep Bucky a secret forever.

Moving to the window, she pushed the curtains apart, taking in the view of the entire backyard with sad eyes, wondering how long it would be until she would see him again. But then, scanning the trees at the edge of the yard, her brow furrowed when she focused on...something. No, not something; someone. Just beyond a series of crisscrossed branches, she made out a shape. A familiar shape. Bracing her hands on the windowpane, she inched her face closer to the glass, and at the same time, Bucky moved within the branches, letting the sunlight touch his face for her to see. Her heart swelled beneath her chest. She saw him, he saw her. For the longest time, they gazed at one another, and from a distance, she could detect his silent message to her: I'm still here.

She pressed her palm to the cool glass. And I see you, her mind replied, an unexpected calmness descending upon her.

He slipped back into the trees, but at least she knew where she could find him. Giving a sigh of relief, Kim bent down to retrieve the comforter from the floor, intent on making the bed before Aunt Laura could see anything out of place.

After smoothing down the blankets, though, a thought occurred to her, prompting her to search the living room, her bedroom, and the guest room once again as thoroughly as possible. But it was all in vain: her research journal was nowhere to be found.

For the most part, Kim stayed out of Aunt Laura's way, knowing that the less interaction they had between them he better, reducing the potential for an unnecessary argument to erupt. Her grandmother didn't need that, regardless of whether or not she could still hear. She didn't need that kind negativity floating around her.

Laura hadn't bothered to come down for breakfast. This hardly surprised Kim, who scraped the last of the remaining eggs from the pan, but her actions slowed when her ears detected the faintest of musical notes trickling down from upstairs. Her movements halted altogether, angling her head in an attempt to hear more clearly. Not a record playing, but a voice. Singing. Aunt Laura singing softly to her grandmother. Kim sighed. Laura did have a lovely singing voice, but she so rarely sang for anyone these days that it broke her heart to hear it now. This would no doubt be her aunt's last visit before Rebecca passed, the last chance she'd ever have to sing for her mother...

Giving her head a shake, Kim finished scraping the leftovers into the tortilla she had waiting on the counter, ignoring the tears that were stinging behind her eyes.

Not long after she'd finished cleaning the kitchen, Kim slipped out the sliding back door, carrying a foil package and bottled water in one hand. Throwing a glance back at the house, she headed straight for the small woods. More than likely, her absence would go completely unnoticed by anyone in the house.

Ducking beneath the low-set branches of the two nearest trees, she carefully called out, "Bucky?"

"Here."

Snapping her head to the right, Kim followed the direction in which she'd heard his voice, crunching small sticks and fallen pinecones beneath her shoes along the way. These woods could be deceiving to those who weren't familiar with them, few realizing just how far they went back if they kept walking south. Eventually, these trees led to a small creek at the bottom of a hill, a place where she and Scotty used to go to dig for worms. Or even to just sling mud at each other. Man, the days when they would return to the house just covered in filth. It was no wonder their grandmother didn't hesitate to turn the hose on them…

It wasn't long before Bucky emerged from behind a small thicket, standing to his full height at her approach. She raised her eyebrows, realizing he was still donning his hat and denim jacket. "It's almost eighty degrees out here. Aren't you hot in that?"

His brow furrowed, glancing down at his attire, then back up at her, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. "A little."

She tilted her head slightly. "Some of Dad's old t-shirts might be more comfy for you. There're lots of them in that dresser up there."

"I didn't think I should leave anything behind. She," he nodded towards the house, "might have seen."

Oh. Aunt Laura. He had a good point. Thinking well ahead of her this time… "Right," she ducked her eyes briefly, then held out the foil package and water to him. "Here: made you something to eat. And before you ask, no, it's not a Hot Pocket."

Despite looking mildly disappointed, he accepted the items from her. "What is it?"

"Breakfast burrito." She smiled faintly when he cocked his head curiously. "Trust me: I think you'll like it."

His eyes held hers for a long moment, and she swore she could see them soften the longer he stared. "Thank you," he breathed, moving to sit down and settle against one of the thicker tree trunks. Kim watched as he tore open the foil with his teeth, devouring nearly half of the packed tortilla in one bite.

Kim's smile only grew. Yep, voracious appetite, she thought, raising her eyebrows at him. "Good?"

He made an affirmative sound in his throat while he ate, and she had to bite back a sudden giggle. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, seeming to consider the burrito's contents. "What's in this?" He asked with his mouth full.

"Bacon, eggs, cheese—"

"It's spicy."

"Yeah, that would be the tabasco sauce," she offered. "I put a few squirts in there to give it some flavor. Too much?"

"No, I like it," he looked up at her, swallowing. "Needs more of it."

She gave a smirking smile. "I'll bring you the bottle next time."

It took a moment, but there the barest lift of the corner of his mouth, giving a small smirk of his own before taking another huge bite of his food. At this rate, he'd finish his whole meal in only three bites, but she was smiling softly, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned back against the nearest tree.

Quiet settled between them again, amplifying the songs of the birds in her ears. It was amazing how many different songs she heard out here. Cardinals, sparrows; many of them called these trees home. The only call she really recognized, though, was the distinctly harsh caw of a crow that flew overhead. Grandpa had been the avid bird-watcher of the family, but hadn't passed that fondness on to either of his grandchildren. Maybe she ought to give it a try sometime. "Sorry," she suddenly out loud.

Bucky's gaze snapped up, brows knitting. "For what?"

"Aunt Laura. I didn't think she'd show up that soon."

He blinked, swallowing the last of his breakfast before he spoke. "That's hardly your fault," he crumpled the foil in his metal hand.

"Yeah, well…" She leaned back against the nearest tree with a sigh. "I still could have called or texted her to get an idea of when she might get here." Right. But she might not have answered your calls knowing it was you.

There was a long pause, and she pretended like she didn't see the look of concern on his face. "She doesn't treat you well, does she?" He uncapped his bottled water, studying it for a moment before taking a sip and looking up at her expectantly.

She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. She'd been avoiding this topic: if there was anything he didn't need, it was her family drama, even if it was his family, too. She needed to remember that Laura Proctor was his immediate niece, and as such, he had a right to know as much about her as possible. "You have to understand…" But then she trailed off, not sure where she was going with this.

"I hear your voice when you're on the phone with her. Your mood changes; so does your posture."

She chewed on her lip, wondering how long he really had been watching over her. "How much have you heard?"

"Enough to know that you don't get along with her." He narrowed his eyes. "Why does she hate you?"

"She doesn't hate me," she answered quickly. "She just…" She sighed, shaking her head. "It's complicated."

Bucky said nothing. It was clear that he was waiting for her to go on.

Lowering her eyes, Kim released another sigh, kicking aside a small stone. "She's not a bad person, Bucky. She just has some problems."

"Like what?"

"Depression issues. She's dealt with them most of her life," she looked off into the distance, not really focusing on anything in particular. "Things only got worse after Mom and Dad died."

"Howso?"

She half-shrugged. "Mood swings happened more often; yelled at me more. Grandma would get on her case, of course, but not every argument happened in front of her." Glancing at the tree behind her, she grabbed the lowest branch and hauled herself up, maneuvering until she was seated within the tree fork. "It wasn't until after I tried to kill myself that she was actually diagnosed with bipolar disorder." She pursed her lips together. "All these years, and they couldn't properly diagnose her until recently. Must have been hell for her."

Even from above, she could see something pass through his eyes. "She shouldn't take her anger out on you."

Her heart clenched. You sound just like Steve, she thought sadly, drawing the knee of her prosthetic to her chest. "I hurt her, Bucky; it's not easy for her to let that go."

He was quiet for a moment, seeming to scan her carefully. "She was close to Jim?"

"Very." She frowned. "You'd think that losing our brothers would have brought us closer together, you know? Didn't turn out that way."

"Tell me about him."

She looked at him, quietly pleased that his interest had shifted. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

A faint smile touched her lips, resting her temple against the tree trunk. "You already know this, but Grandma named him after you. What you don't know is that she even kept the presidential theme going with him: his full name was James Monroe Proctor." Her smile widened. "Didn't make for nearly as good a nickname as yours, though."

He furrowed his brow, but she could see the corner of his mouth lift. "What did he do?"

"For a job, you mean?" He nodded. "Pediatrician. He liked working with kids, and he was really good at it. You could tell that he earned their trust very quickly."

"What else?"

So many memories washed over her at once, and she sighed gently this time, letting her shoulders relax. "He had your chin; your hair. He got a tattoo of a turtle right here," she tapped her left forearm, "after Scotty died. Turtles were his favorite animal, and Dad had his initials etched into the shell." She smirked. "Grandma wasn't exactly thrilled when he got it, but I think deep down, she really liked the symbolism."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me more."

More. He wanted to hear more. "Hmm…he hated black jellybeans, but he'd pick them all out and give them to me because I'm the weirdo who actually likes the taste of licorice.

"White socks: he flat-out refused to wear white socks because they got dirty so easily. He'd only wear black or grey, but Mom would sometimes sneak in white pair for him at Christmas as a joke."

He tilted his head. "But he never wore them?"

"Nope."

"What did he do with them, then?"

She had to snort. "He turned them into sock puppets and put on shows for us; it was the best part of that whole joke." God, there was so much to tell him about his nephew. What next? "He's the one who got Scotty and me into Star Wars in the first place. We owned the movies, but if they were ever having marathons on T.V., we'd still sit down and watch them all the way through." She smiled to herself. "Mom would call him a nerd at least once a day, but he seemed pretty proud of that."

"Watching those movies…they remind you of him," Bucky offered.

She flicked her eyes down to him, feeling her heart expand at his words. "In a way." For a moment, she was quiet, the smile fading from her lips. "One thing I really miss is our trip to the Smoky Mountains every year. Dad would take Scotty and me there to go hiking, kind of like one last hurrah before school started. It's so beautiful there. So quiet." Her iPhone buzzed in her pocket, and she rummaged for it. "Grandma wanted to help me keep the tradition alive, but at her age, and with me adjusting to my prosthetics…there was just no way to make that happen."

"But you wish you could go back."

"Yes," she replied, pulling out her phone to see Tony Stark displayed on the screen. That was enough to make her stomach flip, but for Bucky's sake, she kept her cool and opened his text.

Hey, Kimbo, Laura arrive yet?

Okay, good; just a standard message. She texted, Yes. Earlier this morning. I'm okay here, and hit send, slipping the device back into her pocket.

"Steve?" Bucky asked, suddenly wary.

Her heart went out to him, and she shook her head. "Just a friend." And we'll leave it at that for now, she thought, feeling a surge of protection for him. Some stories were better left for another time.

Then her attention shifted, considering the tree directly across from where she sat. Hmm. Speaking of Tony…

"What are you…?" Bucky started to ask, but she ignored him as she drew her feet up against the trunk. If she had to guess, she'd say she was about four or five feet off the ground; the off-shooting branch of the opposite tree appeared to be a few inches lower. If she got the angle just right, then maybe...Prepping her right leg, she held her breath and pushed herself out of the tree fork—

The instant she hit the ground, she channeled all of her strength to her prosthetic, which caused her to shoot right up towards the branch she'd been focused on. It happened so fast, and yet it seemed to happen in slow motion, every detail of her mistake already apparent before she slammed into the branch chest-first. With a muffled grunt, she fell back to the ground, landing hard on her side with a dull thud.

"Kim!" Bucky called out, and though her eyes were squeezed shut against the shooting pain, she became aware of his presence by her side. The coolness of a metal hand on her shoulder—tentative at first, but then grasping assuredly—and then his concerned voice filling her ears. "Are you alright?"

In truth, she was more stunned than anything else, the pain ebbing away in mere seconds. "I'm fine," she wheezed, glancing up at the branch she'd tried to reach. "Just misjudged that."

"What were you trying to do?" He helped her stand, and she let him.

"Figure something out," she brushed the dirt from her hands, eyes still focused intently on that branch. Not done with you yet, she insisted to herself. Bending her knees, she recalled not only the techniques Stark had advised her to practice at home, but also the video footage she'd so raptly studied, giving special consideration to the way angles could affect any possible outcome.

Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. You can do this, she assured herself, lifting her right foot off the ground and concentrating on where she wanted to go as she slammed it down. This time, she launched right up to the branch, and though the wind was knocked out of her temporarily when she smacked into it, she managed to hook her arms over it, hanging there with wide-eyes while her legs dangled beneath her. Okay, she thought, readjusting her grip. At least I didn't fall.

"Kim," Bucky said from below.

Maintaining her focus, she pulled herself up so she could take a seat on the sturdier side of the branch, surprised at her own strength in doing so. Apparently, the physical therapy was having an impact on more than just her legs. Interesting.

Looking down at Bucky, she could see the fathomless curiosity in his eyes. Spreading her hands, she gave a slight smirk. "Ta-da," she proclaimed, then rubbed the sore spot on her chest.

He furrowed his brow, coming closer to the tree. "You okay?"

"It's not bad," she assured, the pain already fading. "We've found out this leg," she patted her metal thigh, "is a lot more than just a replacement, and I'm—"

"Trying to control it."

She looked down at him. "Yeah. Something you're probably familiar with."

"You're right," he reached into his jacket, pulling out an item Kim immediately recognized. "I am."

Seeing the black cover of her journal in his metal hand made her smile softly. "So you did take it."

"Yes." Then he hesitated. "I'm sorry I stole it from you—"

But she was already waving a dismissive hand to silence him. "I was hoping you had, actually."

"You were?"

"Of course. I would have shown it to you eventually. There's more than just the memories I've written down that I want you to see."

"I know. Your leg…"

"It was inspired by your arm."

For a long time, their gazes remained locked, and even from her elevated position, she could clearly see the strain behind Bucky's eyes as he contemplated that. The understanding that the two of them were connected by so much more than blood. Though he said nothing, she could tell the notion filled him with worry. At the same time, however, that same intensity she'd come to know in only a few short days still came shining through. An ultimate sense of protectiveness, no matter what emotions plagued him beneath the surface.

"What do you need from me, Kim?" He asked slowly.

Yes. That was the question she'd been hoping for. "How did you learn to control your arm? Did you just figure it out on your own?"

"No." He lowered his eyes from hers, but she could tell he wasn't avoiding the question; he was trying to access whatever memories would possibly come when prompted by such an inquiry. "I was…" He paused. "Trained."

"Trained," she echoed.

He gave a short nod, still keeping his gaze straight ahead. "Trained to fight with it, to…to maximize my abilities," his brow creased. "Become…the Fist of HYDRA…"

Enough, she told herself, wanting to take his mind off of that. Like hell will I consider either of us to be pawns of HYDRA. "Do you—" This time, it was she who hesitated, and Bucky looked up at her. Drawing in a breath, she asked, "Do you think you can train me, Bucky?"

His eyes widened. "Train you?"

"To fight like you. To help me control whatever's going on with this leg."

He still seemed taken aback, his brows knitting yet again. "I…are you sure?"

"Are you kidding me?" She slid down from the branch, and though she was braced for the inevitable kick-back that would send her flying in whatever direction, she was pleasantly surprised when she simply landed in front of him. No bouncing. Apparently, he'd expected the same thing, for his hands were poised just over either sides of her waist, ready to grab her just in case. She looked up into his eyes, silently grateful for his consideration. "Why not?" She immediately went on. "You of all people obviously have a better idea of what I'm going through, so who better to train me than you? Learning to fight might be a good way for me to develop the kind of control I need."

The uncertainty that suddenly crossed his features made Kim's stomach drop, and she realized that such a request might be a great deal to ask of him. What if this doing something like this dredged up further memories of his time with HYDRA? Brought back the faces of those he'd fought and killed over the years? Before giving him a chance to speak, she shook her head, placing a hand on his metal arm. "Forget I asked. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have thrown it at you like that. It was just an—"

"I'll do it."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "You will?"

"Yes," he said pointedly. "I may not know…exactly how to…control something like this," he nodded toward her leg, "but…"

"What?"

His grey-blue eyes flashed protectively once again. "At the very least, teaching you to fight means I can teach you how to protect yourself."

She smiled softly, feeling her heart swell as she stepped forward, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist. "Thank you."

He didn't answer, but she felt his right hand settle gently upon her head.

"We'll talk more about this later, okay?" He nodded above her, then Kim glanced back towards the house with a reluctant sigh. "I should head back and see if she needs any help with Grandma."

Bucky was staring in the same direction, the sadness more than a little evident in his eyes. But he nodded his understanding. "Yes," he whispered. "Rebecca needs you."

I…need you, too, Kim thought, her arms tightening around him once more. Pulling back, she tilted her head in thought as she looked at him. "I really should take you to the Smoky Mountains someday; I think you'd like it there."

He blinked, but didn't answer. That was okay; she wasn't expecting an answer. "I'll see you later," she pulled away from his embrace.

"Wait," he said, holding out her journal to her.

But she shook her head dismissively. "Just hang onto it for now, okay? I know where to find you if I need it."

And with that, she turned and walked away, easily navigating her way back through the woods. Ducking beneath a low branch on her way, she threw one last look at Bucky, who watched her the entire time until he disappeared from view, shrouded by thick vegetation. Her heart clenched. As much as she wanted to stay with him—and not face whatever was awaiting her when she returned home—it would only complicate things if she was found with him. For the time being, this was how it had to be.

The house came into view less than a minute later, and she tried to ignore the knot that was forming in her stomach. Maybe Aunt Laura would want something for lunch, and she had to be ready to help out in any way possible.

"It's completely asinine, Kim!" Laura snapped, pacing around the living room in her usual manner. "With how competitive the job market is these days, how can you not even consider pursuing a college degree? A bachelor's? An associates, even! It's ridiculous!"

From her green chair, Kim sighed slowly, uncrossing one arm to rub at her temple. No matter how many times they discussed it, her aunt always felt a need to express her displeasure over Kim's plans for the future. "Aunt Laura," she said as patiently as possible, "this internship is a huge opportunity for me. It's not something typically offered, not even to college grads, and this could help me get into some—"

"It's an internship, Kim!" Her chocolate eyes flashed angrily. "That's all this is! An unpaid internship at that. You know what that means? No compensation for the work you'll be doing. What's going to happen in the meantime? How the hell do you expect to support yourself financially once Mom is gone?"

God, thanks for bringing it up like that. Again. "You don't have to worry about that," she tried to say calmly, but heard her own voice beginning to rise in frustration. "Tony's asked me to do something that will—"

"Tony," she spat. "Now you're on a first-name basis with the man? How convenient."

A blush rose to her cheeks. "He's a friend, Aunt Laura; he asked me to call him that."

She threw her hands up into the air. "And who's to say how long that'll last, young lady? What happens when you're no longer his golden child and abandons you after getting what he wants out of you? What if you can't find a position that suits the qualifications from your internship? What then, huh? Going to try ending it all again when nothing seems to be going right?"

She winced, the words a complete slap in the face. "That is not fair…" Her words suddenly sounded so weak in her ears.

"Tell me about fair when someone else does it under your own roof."

Kim closed her eyes, unable to look at her. She would not cry in front of her. Not like this.

"What I'm telling you is the reality of the situation, Kim. When Mom's not here to take care of you anymore, what are—"

"She wants me to do this!" She finally cut in herself. "You know she's wanted this for me for the past two years. You were even here when she and Tony were discussing it with me. I wouldn't have had the guts to agree if she hadn't pushed me to begin with."

Laura's eyes narrowed, her voice becoming deceptively calm, which made Kim's insides quake nervously. "And what alternatives have you considered if none of this works out? Have you looked into any possible fields to fall back on, just in case?" Kim said nothing. "I figured as much. What about living arrangements? Where will you be staying once your internship begins? 'Cause you sure as hell won't be living here."

Great. Yet another reminder that after Grandma passed, this house—the place she called home—would go to Laura. It was inevitable, and Kim knew this. "I'll have to find an apartment downtown, something closer to the Candleman Center. It'll make things a little easier once I get started with my work." Harder to hide Bucky, she thought, but…I'll figure it out. Somehow.

"Have you even started looking for a place yet?"

"No," she admitted softly.

The chime of the doorbell had them both turning their heads, and Kim was silently grateful for the interruption.

Laura sighed in exasperation. "Just remember," she said, heading for the entryway, "you have three months to find an apartment, and then I want you out of here. I'm sure Mr. Stark would be happy to snap his fingers if you go groveling to him."

Huffing out a breath, Kim willed herself to say nothing. Just crossed her arms over her chest again and held back the tears that burned behind her eyes. She doesn't mean any of this, she reminded herself. She's angry and sad, and she's taking it out on you. That's all this is. Her needing to take it out on someone. Anyone. Me.

For the past four years, she thought, chewing on her lower lip.

She listened as Laura unlocked and opened the front door. "Oh, for God's sake, what? What do you want?"

"Nice to see you again, too, Laura."

Kim's ears perked up. Tony? She turned in her seat. What…was he doing here?

She could hear Laura's exasperated sigh. "Look, this is not a very good time, Mr. Stark, so whatever reason you have for coming here—"

"I'm aware of Rebecca's condition, Miss Proctor, and I can assure you that my reasons for being here are of an urgent nature. I believe you're already acquainted with Justin Wilkes?"

"Of course."

That's when Kim finally stood and crossed to the entryway. Mr. Wilkes was her grandmother's attorney, and she'd met with him a number of times in the past few months in order to finalize the details of her will. Why he was here with Stark, though…

Coming up behind Laura, she met Stark's eyes through the open doorway.

"Kimbo," he said warmly, "was hoping you'd be here to join us."

Her aunt gave her a sideways glance, which she ignored. "Hey." Then she frowned. "What's going on?"

"A little matter of estate to discuss at Rebecca's request," he turned briefly to Mr. Wilkes, who nodded, then turned back to them. "Mind if we come in? We have a lot to go over, and I don't want to take up any more of your time than is necessary."

Reluctance rolled off of Laura in unseen waves, but, setting her jaw, she finally stood aside to let them enter.

"Thank you," Stark said, but Laura simply turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the dining room, implying for them to follow.

"Whatever this is, let's get it over with," she called over her shoulder.

Geez. She was already livid, and it was making Kim incredibly uneasy. Mr. Wilkes went ahead, but Kim placed a hand on Stark's arm, causing him to hang back for a moment.

"What is this?" She whispered worriedly. "What are you going to do?"

He gave her a reassuring look, lifting a hand to her shoulder. "Relax, kiddo. Just doing what needs to be done, and your aunt is going to have to listen to what I have to say."

Hearing him phrase it like that caused her stomach to hit the floor. Whatever he had planned was obviously not going to set well on her aunt's agitated state of mind. "Tony," she warned, closing her eyes, "please don't make things worse than they already are."

"Hey, don't worry," he insisted, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "I'm going to be right there beside you, okay? Just trust me."

Over what? Kim wondered, still anxious about where this was possibly going. She didn't have a choice, however, when Stark made for the dining room, motioning for her to join them at the dining room table when he pulled out a chair for her.

She suddenly couldn't deny how much she wanted to hold Bucky's hand right now. Please, please don't make this worse…

Sucking in a breath, Kim followed.

If she hadn't already been sitting down, Kim would have completely collapsed. I didn't hear that right, she thought, still gaping in disbelief. I couldn't have…

But judging by her aunt's hysterical shrieking, there was no denying what she'd heard was, indeed, fact. Glancing down at the pages in front of her—a copy of Rebecca Proctor's Last Will and Testament—only served to reaffirm what Stark had revealed to them mere seconds ago.

That this house would not be left to Laura…but to Kim.

God, Grandma…Tears blurred her vision, but she hardly felt them as they fell down her cheeks. Numb. She was far too numb with shock over this news to feel anything, and that same numbness seemed to reach her ears, drowning out the harsh words Laura had for Mr. Wilkes at the moment.

Leaving the house to me? To me. It was taking a great deal of effort to remind herself how to breathe again. Her grandmother had never discussed this with her, but apparently she'd made arrangements with Stark in the presence of her lawyer over the last few months. Everything was right there in the legal documents, signed and dated, all legit. A done deal, Stark had said, and there was no contesting that.

I don't have to leave; this will still be my home. My home...

Her stomach sank. There was no mistaking that this was going to cause even more tension between her and her aunt, but then when she registered Stark's hand on the small of her back, it provided the smallest degree of comfort. Exhaling shakily, she looked up at Laura's reddened face, her chest tightening when she saw that tears were also streaming down her face.

"…can't tell me there's absolutely nothing that can be done to change this!" The numbness in Kim's ears was finally wearing off. "My mother never mentioned changing her mind about this house. Ever!"

"That's because she knew you would object to her decisions, Laura," Stark explained calmly in the seat next to Kim, "which, I can assure you, were very consciously made by her own sound mind. Justin and I even have video footage of our sessions, should you care to see the evidence."

"We do," Mr. Wilkes affirmed, shuffling a few papers. "Each time we met with Rebecca, she requested digital documentation so you could see her in control of the entire situation from beginning to end."

From across the table, Laura's eyes flashed icily at Kim. "You; you put Mom up to this, didn't you?"

Kim gaped at her, utterly appalled. How could she say something like that? She shook her head, her mind scrambling for any kind of a coherent response, but Stark beat her to the punch when he lifted a hand.

"Don't even think about it, Laura, and keep your voice down, would you?" He said with a firmness that surprised Kim. "I'm sure Rebecca wouldn't appreciate hearing you like this."

Hearing this temporarily silenced her, her fingernails starting to claw at the tablecloth.

Stark rested his elbows on the table. "It was your mother who approached me about her will in the first place; Kim had no say in these revisions whatsoever."

"How the hell would you know?" She snapped. "You're not here twenty-four hours a day; you don't know what kind of influence she might have had on her!"

"How can you say that, Aunt Laura?" Kim couldn't stop herself from crying out. "You know I would never do anything like that to…to anyone! I promise you that!"

Laura's eyes narrowed at her. "Just like your promise to Jim that you'd look after Scotty the day he died?"

That…was an absolute punch to the gut, all air escaping Kim's lungs as her eyes went wide.

Stark stood quickly. "That is enough, Laura!" He reprimanded sharply.

In the ensuing quiet, Kim's head fell into her hands, her heart overwhelmed with the hurt and horror that accompanied her aunt's insinuation. She felt herself trembling, trying hard to hold back the swell of emotions before she screamed. God, how could she…? She didn't even try holding back the tears.

"Kim," Stark said, and she lifted her damp eyes up to him. His gaze was fixed on Laura, but even from this angle, she didn't miss the protective glint in those brown pools. "Take a walk. There are a few things I need to discuss with your aunt in private." His voice. It was so low, so serious. Forewarning that it would be best for her to go. Still staring forward, he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "I'll let you know when things quiet down here."

It was all she needed to hear. Shoving her chair back from the table, she didn't even glance back as she dashed through the kitchen and out the sliding glass door, needing to just get away. Out of the house. Away from everything causing her pain. Tears made the world appear watery, but they hardly slowed her down. She didn't care that she was in denim shorts and one of her nicer shirts; she had her running shoes on, and she just needed to—

Rounding the side of the house, she ran right into Bucky with a choked gasp. She stared up at him with wide eyes, her breaths shaking as tears fell down her face in hot lines. He looked at her, worry evident in the crease of his brow, and the way his eyes rapidly searched hers. For a brief moment, she worried someone might have noticed them, but then her ears picked up on the ensuing argument from one of the open windows. There was no way they'd been detected.

She swallowed to lubricate her dry throat, whispering, "Did you hear?"

"Every word," he said just as quietly, and she could see the anger shimmering in his gaze.

Another long pause, neither of them looking away. If it had been any other time, she would have wrapped her arms around him and begged to be kept in his embrace, but that was something she couldn't do now. There were so many emotions welling up within her, so much pain that needed to be purged from her heart, and all she could think of to say was, "Run with me."

He stared at her a moment longer. Then, "Lead the way."

She'd never be able to thank him enough. Kim took off, running along the length of the house at a dead sprint, and before she knew it, Bucky was following closely beside her. They made for the main road, and as the voices faded away behind her, she knew for a fact that no one inside the house was aware of the man who accompanied her.