I know it hit you without warning
You weren't ready for letting go
Only left with questions out of hope
(Don't know where to go)
Every promise turned to heartache
In a moment, you lost control
Try to ride this storm out on your own
(You are not alone)

So don't fall back, keep fighting
Out of your ashes rising
I'm right here
I want you to know...

- "This Isn't the End" by Colton Dixon

The morning sky was overcast. The clouds weren't dark and brooding, nor did any rain fall from them. It was one of those days where the entire sky was covered with an unbroken blanket of white. If not for the warm breezes ruffling the trees and the tulips lining the pathways with drops of red and yellow, it could have been a drab winter day.

Steve thought it was appropriate weather. He sat at the kitchen island, nursing his cup of coffee. He'd eaten a little, because he knew he'd regret it later if he didn't, but he didn't have much of an appetite this morning. None of them did. Well, except for Jake.

Jake, perched on his usual stool between Steve and Bucky, was polishing off his second piece of toast and peeking up at them all curiously. Steve, Bucky, and Sam hadn't spoken much over breakfast. Mostly, it had just been quiet requests to pass the salt or the coffee pot, and Steve's occasional reminders to Jake to eat more slowly.

Steve smiled reassuringly when Jake looked up at him. The silence this morning must have been unnerving, after the usual chatter and banter. But...there just wasn't much to say this morning. They'd said everything already, and Steve knew they were all thinking about the same thing.

The gravestones had finally been delivered and installed the day before. Steve had supervised the process, but Bucky hadn't wanted to see them until this morning. Once they were all ready, they were planning to hold an informal memorial of sorts with all of the Avengers. Steve wished he could have introduced his family under better circumstances, but...at least they would have names. At least there would be some kind of monument to their existence that he could show his friends. A way to claim his children before the world, even though he'd never met them.

"Finished, buddy?" Steve asked, wrenching his mind away from those thoughts. He couldn't fall to pieces just yet.

Jake nodded, and the others roused themselves as if waking from a trance. Steve got to his feet, gathering up the plates and taking them over to the sink. He was just about to start the dishes when he heard a sound over by the refrigerator and turned to see Vision standing there as if he'd been there the whole time. Steve was starting to get used to the way Vision could just float through walls and floors, but it still made him jump a little when he didn't see it happening.

"Good morning, Captain," Vision said, nodding a polite greeting to the others. "Mr. Stark has just arrived; he wanted me to ask you and Sam to join us in the conference room downstairs."

Tony hadn't been back since he'd stormed off after his argument with Steve. Why was he gathering them all together? Had the CIA actually finished with the files already and returned them? Steve had been expecting to wait much longer than this...

"Thanks," he said. "We'll be right there."

"I'll keep an eye on Jake," Bucky said, a little too quickly. He probably wasn't too keen on the thought of facing Tony if he didn't have to.

Steve nodded. "Hopefully this won't take too long, and then we can...continue with our original plan."

Should he invite Tony to the memorial? Probably. They couldn't just tiptoe around the awkwardness forever...but then, he didn't want to make a scene on a day they were supposed to honor the fallen... Well, maybe he'd just see if Tony was planning to stick around today or not...

Vision turned to go, but seemed to remember something else. "Oh, and apparently he's brought a guest."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"The Secretary of State."

Steve sat at the head of the conference table as the others took their places. He glanced over at Tony, who sat in the corner rather than taking a place at the table. Their eyes met briefly, then Tony looked away again. Steve couldn't read his expression, but he could tell that Tony was only feigning nonchalance. The last time they'd spoken, they'd gotten into that huge argument about the files, and...well, they certainly hadn't parted on the best of terms. Steve wondered if that was on Tony's mind as much as it was on his.

Looking down the length of the table, Steve took in the others' confused and anxious expressions as they took their seats and a few of them poured glasses of water for themselves. Bucky and Jake were upstairs, but everyone else was here.

At the foot of the table stood Secretary Ross, with an assistant who was setting up some kind of presentation on the screen behind him. This was the first time Steve had seen Ross in person, though of course he'd grown all too familiar with his voice over the phone. The man looked like any other middle-aged politician, with greying hair and mustache, crows' feet radiating from his eyes... He looked harmless, but Steve couldn't help feeling suspicious.

"Good morning," Ross said, drawing everyone's attention. "My name is Thaddeus Ross. I'd like to thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I'm sure you all have many responsibilities to see to, but I promise not to take up too much of your time." He smiled genially around at them all. Was it just Steve's imagination, or did his eyes linger on Steve a little longer when he mentioned responsibilities?

Ross began what sounded like a rehearsed speech. "I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone in this room and what you have managed to achieve in the past few years. Before my appointment as Secretary of State, I had the honor of serving as a general in the United States Army. I've had my share of tough decisions in order to protect millions of innocent lives. I'm sure that, over the last several years, your job has changed the way you see the world. Perhaps that change happened over time, or in a single moment.

"Five years ago, I had a heart attack." Ross mimed swinging a golf club. "I dropped, right in the middle of my back swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the Army never taught me: perspective." He gestured to his assistant, who pulled up a map of the world on the screen behind Ross.

And why didn't forty years in the Army teach you perspective? Steve thought, but he held his tongue and waited to see where Ross was going with this.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt," Ross continued. "You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives..." He looked gravely around the table. "But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked.

"How about 'dangerous'?" Ross met each of their gazes one by one. "What would you call a group of U.S.-based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose—and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

Steve frowned. That was hardly a fair assessment.

Ross nodded to his assistant. "New York." The man pressed a button, and footage began to play of the alien attack from five years ago. The Hulk leaped up the side of a building, ripping out chunks of stone and sending them tumbling to the ground, crushing pedestrians and whoever was holding the camera.

"Washington, D.C." Footage of debris from the helicarriers falling into the river, sending powerful waves crashing over people fleeing the scene, knocking them off their feet.

"Sokovia." The city flying higher and higher through the air, buildings crumbling and falling to the earth hundreds of feet below, crushing countless civilians who couldn't escape...

Steve glanced down the table to Wanda, who turned her head from the screen. Her face was deathly pale, her lips trembling as she was confronted with footage of the day she had lost her brother.

"Okay," he said firmly. "That's enough."

Ross nodded to his assistant, who shut off the presentation and began rummaging for something in the briefcase he carried.

"Why are you bringing this up?" Steve asked. "Are you blaming us for fighting back when aliens were attacking? Or should we have let Hydra kill 20 million people in one day? Would it have been better if we'd just stood back and let Ultron destroy the world?"

Ross held up a placating hand. "That's not the point I'm trying to make."

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath and sit back in his chair.

"For the past five years," Ross said, "you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution."

The assistant handed Ross what looked like a book of some kind. He placed it on the table in front of Wanda. "The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

Steve was liking this conversation less and less. "The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," he said. "I feel we've done that."

"You've made the world safer?" Ross raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30-megaton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences."

Biting his tongue, Steve narrowed his eyes as Ross paced back and forth at the foot of the table. So Thor and Bruce were just nukes now? Not people, not friends. Not a warrior prince with staunch loyalty and a delightful sense of humor. Not a brilliant scientist with enough guilt and compassion for three men. No, in Ross's eyes they were just weapons. Threats.

Maybe that's how he saw all of them. Steve was glad Bucky was upstairs for this.

"Compromise," Ross said. "Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."

Rhodey had been flipping through the Accords booklet, but now he looked up. "So, there are contingencies? We follow the Accords, and in return we're given the opportunity to help protect the world?"

"The details are outlined in the material I provided you," Ross said. "Three days from now, the U.N. meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over."

Three days. Three days? That was how long they had to process this law that would alter their lives forever? Steve turned to look disbelievingly at Tony, only to realize...Tony didn't look surprised. He'd known this would happen. Had Ross given him an inkling of the Accords already?

Was this why he'd given up the files to the CIA so easily?

Ross and his assistant were heading out the door, but Natasha called after him, "And if we come to a decision you don't like?"

Ross turned in the doorway, looking unimpressed. "Then you retire."

Clint snorted softly, and Natasha smirked a little, but Ross left without another word. Steve, however, found no levity in the situation. The Avengers, working for the United Nations? Subject to the whims of a committee? It was a committee who had given the order to drop a nuke on New York City. The toll that day had taken on civilians' lives and property had been staggering, but...if they'd followed orders, there would have been much more collateral damage than what they'd left behind. It would have taken much longer for New York to get back on its feet—if it ever truly could have.

After a stunned silence in Ross's wake, Tony abruptly got to his feet and muttered something about coffee, heading for the stairs without looking at anyone. One by one, the others stood up and followed him.

"Can I look at that?" Steve asked Rhodey, who was still holding the Accords booklet.

He began flipping through it, trailing behind the others. Immediately, he could see it would be a dense, challenging read—especially to finish in just three days. It was full of legal jargon he didn't understand, but what he did understand worried him more than ever.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, Steve looked up and caught sight of Ross and his assistant crossing the atrium on their way out. Ross looked in his direction, their eyes meeting for a brief moment across the distance. Then Ross passed out of sight.

Steve thought of all the phone calls he'd ignored. The conversations he'd ended as early as possible. Would Ross have mentioned something about the Accords if those conversations had been longer? Would Steve have been able to see this coming?

Would it have changed anything? He couldn't stop the U.N. from signing this document, no matter how much warning he had in advance. But maybe the Avengers wouldn't have been quite so blindsided by this announcement.

With a sigh, Steve headed up the stairs. They couldn't change that now. They would just have to figure out how to deal with it.

...enhanced individuals who agree to sign must register with the United Nations and provide biometric data...prohibited from taking action unless given clearance by the Accords subcommittee...those deemed to be a threat to the safety of the general public may be detained indefinitely...

The words were swimming in Steve's vision as he skimmed through the Accords booklet. He and the other Avengers were in the sitting area in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do with this new information. The others' voices washed over him, but Steve was barely listening. The more he read, the worse he realized their situation was. Bad enough that the decisions of when and where they fought were being handed over to a committee. But if the Sokovia Accords were ratified and enforced...they would all be registered. Monitored. Scrutinized.

And this wouldn't just affect the Avengers, either. The Accords would apply to Bucky. To Jake. To every single enhanced individual in the world, whether they'd ever raised their hand against another person or not. It didn't matter if they were heroes or villains or children just discovering there was something different about them. The Accords would treat them like criminals. Or like bombs waiting to go off.

There was no way he could sign this document.

Rhodey's voice rose, breaking into his thoughts. "Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have."

"You know," Sam said from where he'd been reading over Steve's shoulder, "Steve has a Medal of Honor too, and I don't see him reaching for a pen."

"Please leave me out of this," Steve muttered.

"Point taken," Rhodey said, "but—"

"So let's say we agree to this thing," Sam said, straightening up and crossing his arms. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

"A hundred and seventeen countries wanna sign this," Rhodey said. "A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, 'Nah, it's cool. We got it.'"

"And 76 countries don't want to sign it," Sam pointed out. "I counted six human rights violations in the index, Rhodey. Six."

Vision spoke up from where he sat on a couch next to Wanda. "I have an equation."

"Oh, now this'll clear it up," Sam muttered sarcastically.

Vision steepled his fingers, speaking carefully. "In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And, during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

Steve frowned. "Are you saying it's our fault?"

"I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict...breeds catastrophe."

Steve wondered if everyone else was thinking of Sokovia too. Vision wouldn't even exist if Ultron hadn't challenged them.

"Oversight." Vision looked around to make sure everyone was listening. "Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom," Rhodey said, as if that was the final word. As if oversight was a justification for every other problem the Accords created.

Steve shook his head. "Oversight isn't the issue here, it's the method of oversight. Why are the Accords the only option given to us? This seems less like accountability and more like simply targeting enhanced individuals. Surely there's a better way than this."

"Tony," Natasha spoke up, "you're being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal."

Steve looked over at Tony, who was lounging on the same couch as Natasha, with a hand over his face. He looked exhausted, but resigned.

"It's 'cause he's already made up his mind," Steve said.

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. "Boy, you know me so well. Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." He headed over to the kitchen, reaching for the French press he'd filled when they first came up here. "That's what's going on, Cap, it's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal?" he demanded as he grabbed a mug by the sink. "Am I running a bed-and-breakfast for a biker gang?"

As he stepped over to the kitchen island to pour his coffee, he casually propped his phone against the basket of onions. The phone projected a holographic picture of a young African-American man grinning into the camera. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way," Tony said, in a falsely casual tone. "He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service."

As Steve listened, wondering where this was going, he noticed the stress growing in Tony's voice. It sounded like this story had been weighing on his mind for a while, and now it could finally burst out.

"Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Ft. Lauderdale," Tony continued, "which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor, guess where? Sokovia."

Steve's heart sank, and he saw the others' faces fall as well.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose," Tony said bitterly. "I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him."

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that even when they saved as many people as they could, there were always some people they couldn't save. That much had been made abundantly clear to him with Project Legacy, and here was yet another reminder.

Tony washed down a pill with a swig of coffee, then rounded the island to stand next to the picture of Charlie Spencer. Steve could clearly see the pain written in every line of his face—not just the physical pain of a headache, but the crushing knowledge that people were dead because of his mistakes. Steve recognized that pain immediately.

"There's no decision-making process here," Tony said grimly. "We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're boundary-less; we're no better than the bad guys."

This boy's death weighed heavy on Steve's heart, as did everyone else he'd been unable to save. And he understood the guilt driving Tony to make this decision. The fear that his mistakes would lead to even more death. But that still didn't make this right. "Tony," he said quietly, "if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up."

"Who said we're giving up?" Tony almost snapped the words, tension written in every line of his face as their eyes met.

Steve could hear the echoes of their previous argument in their words now, but he fought to keep his voice steady. "We are if we're not taking responsibility for our own actions. This document just shifts the blame so we're responsible for everyone's safety except our own."

"Sorry, Steve," Rhodey said, "that...that is dangerously arrogant. We can't be the only ones in charge of these kinds of decisions. Besides, this is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not Hydra."

Steve was already shaking his head. "No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change."

"That's good—"

"That's why I'm here," Tony interrupted, stepping closer. "When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down, stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that." Steve stabbed a finger at the document in his lap. "If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose, or to defend our own choices. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there's somewhere we need to go, and they won't let us? What if something happens and they don't like how we handled it, and we're not allowed to disagree with them? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

Tony's hand curled into a fist. "If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty."

Like you did with the Project Legacy files? Steve wanted to ask, but he clenched his teeth and resisted the urge. This was always Tony's reasoning when he was afraid of the future. He would try to preempt what he saw as inevitable, and end up fulfilling his own prophecy.

Taking a deep breath, Steve said, "But that doesn't mean we should lie down and let them take everything from us. If we sacrifice our individual rights now without a fight, we're sacrificing everyone's rights."

Tony shook his head impatiently. "It's not going to affect everyone like that. These documents can be amended later; we just have to get the ball rolling now."

"I can't even temporarily agree to endanger anyone like this."

Tony turned away with a huff of frustration.

Clint had been sitting quietly, not participating in the discussion, but now he spoke up from his spot on the couch next to Wanda. "Well, if this is just inevitable anyway, then I'm officially retired. I don't need any more crappy orders I don't agree with. Wanda, you should come home with me for a bit; Laura and the kids miss you. You too, Nat."

Natasha opened her mouth to reply, but Tony beat her to it. "Wait, wait, I don't think that's such a good idea..."

Steve frowned. "Why not? They'll be safe and off the radar. And if they don't sign the Accords, there's nothing keeping them here."

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's not a good idea because if something happens, we'll all be miles away from being able to do anything about it."

Clint snorted. "What am I, chopped liver? It'll be fine. You've been there; you know how remote it is. Besides, last time I checked, this one can move things with her mind." He jabbed his thumb at Wanda.

"Okay," Tony said reluctantly. "But I think Wanda should stay put there. No wandering off."

Steve narrowed his eyes, watching Tony closely. He looked...nervous? Shifty? There was something he wasn't saying.

Wanda looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. "You're saying they'll come for me?"

"We would protect you," Vision said firmly.

"Wait," Steve said, before the topic could shift. "Why shouldn't Wanda leave the farm?"

Tony rubbed his temples, apparently still suffering from his headache. "Look, I don't know if you watch the news, but it'd be kind of good to avoid making a spectacle of ourselves while the whole world is watching—and talking about weapons of mass destruction."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Uh...the only spectacle that's going to happen at my place is Nathan taking his first steps. I mean, I've seen the state of his diapers, so I guess you could call that a weapon of mass destruction..."

But Steve wasn't in the mood for jokes. Still staring hard at Tony, Steve said, "Wanda is not under arrest; why do you want her isolated like that?"

Impatiently, Tony turned to stalk back to the island and take another gulp of coffee. "Not yet. It's just a precaution. One we should all take."

" Yet?"

Tony held up his hands defensively, then reached for his phone. "I'm just saying, it might be better if you all stay here for the time being, and just...lie low. I mean, we've got a lap pool and a screening room here; there are worse ways to protect people."

Steve stared disbelievingly at Tony's back. More and more, he was starting to sound like Ross. "Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? What are you trying to do, arrest us?"

"Gimme a break!" Tony cried, whirling around to face them all. Even from across the room, Steve could see the fear in his eyes, barely contained. "Don't you get it? Ross—all those people on the Accords panel—they want to confiscate all our equipment and put tracking bracelets on those of you who have innate powers. And if we don't cooperate, they will, as soon as they have the legal power to do so!"

"And yet you've already decided to sign this."

"I'm trying to—" Tony slapped a frustrated hand on the counter. "I'm trying to keep the Avengers from falling apart!"

Steve held aloft the Accords booklet. "With this document, the Avengers are a joke." He tossed it onto the chess table with a thud that echoed around the silent room. "We've already fallen apart. Which reminds me," he added, drawing a deep breath. He knew it was the right choice, the only choice...but his heart felt so heavy with the finality of it all. "I'm retiring. I need to take care of my family, and I can't do that at the mercy of this committee."

Steve looked around at all of his colleagues, his allies—some of the closest friends he'd known since waking up in the twenty-first century. He was already sorry to leave these days behind, when they were all working together for the same goals. Especially to see it end like this. The Sokovia Accords book sat in the middle of the room, like a giant wedge driven into their midst. Even if the Avengers had to be disbanded, he wished they weren't forced to pick sides.

Natasha spoke up in the silence, eyeing Steve almost warily. "I think...maybe Tony's right. If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off..."

Sam leaned forward in disbelief. "Aren't you the same woman who gave the one-fingered salute to the government a few years ago?"

"I'm just..." She gave Steve an apologetic look. "I'm reading the terrain. We have made...some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

Steve's heart sank. Out of all the Avengers, Natasha had been one of the members he'd been sure would agree with him. They'd taken down S.H.I.E.L.D. together. He had the honor of being one of the few people she'd truly opened up to. She'd helped him get off the grid to take care of Winter. While they still could, she'd helped analyze the Project Legacy files—without even being asked to do so.

But she was scared too. He could see it in her eyes. She'd made the wrong choice about whose orders to follow before—twice. Steve understood why that gave her so little confidence in her own judgment, but he wished she trusted herself more. He didn't want her to regret signing her freedom away.

"Focus up," Tony said, leaning over the back of her couch. "I'm sorry, did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?"

"Oh, I wanna take it back now..." Natasha said with the ghost of a smirk.

Steve's phone buzzing in his pocket drew his attention away from the conversation. He fished it out with an exhausted sigh, half-expecting (and half-hoping) it to be Bucky asking him what was taking so long. How on earth was he going to break this news to him?

But then he recognized the number. It was a text from Emilia at St. Christopher's Hospice. His heart went cold.

She's gone. In her sleep.

Gone.

Peggy was gone.

Just like that. One moment, she was there—a thought lingering in the back of his mind like the faded photograph in his compass. Old thoughts, old regrets, but an affection that remained despite everything.

And now she was gone.

He would never talk to her again. He thought he'd come to grips with that knowledge already, but...now he knew he never would. He'd never see her again, never hold her hand, never look into those warm brown eyes that had picked him out of the crowd when he was unremarkable and unimpressive, seeing something in him that few others did...

Abruptly, Steve got to his feet. "I have to go," he muttered, making a beeline for his room. He could feel the others' eyes on his back as he left, but he couldn't bear to stay there for another minute.

It was all crashing over him, wave upon wave, one after another. Project Legacy, the Sokovia Accords, leaving the Avengers, Peggy... Peggy... He couldn't stay afloat. He was drowning.

Steve barely made it through his door before collapsing. He closed the door behind him, then slid to the floor with his head in his hands. When he felt Bucky's hand on his shoulder, he just shoved the phone towards him and let the tears come.

Steve and Bucky stood alone on the hill, hands clasped as they gazed down at the graves. What with everything that had happened, they'd had to reschedule their little memorial service for that afternoon. All the Avengers had shown up to lay flowers on the graves and observe a few minutes of silence, then one by one they'd gone their separate ways.

Tony had been the first to leave, not lingering long enough to talk to anyone. Then Sam had taken Jake back inside to get him some supper. The others had followed not long after, no doubt to help with the meal and to continue discussing the Accords. Everyone had paused to give Steve a hug or a comforting pat on the shoulder, but in the end they'd left him alone.

All except for Bucky. Bucky was probably the only person in the world who could truly understand what he felt, looking at these new gravestones. There was the ache of grief, of course, which he expected he would probably live with his whole life. Even though neither of them had known their children at all, there were holes torn in their hearts where those lives could have been held. But at the same time, Steve found that the most prominent emotion he felt as he stood here was relief.

Even though there were only three bodies lying beneath the earth, now covered with a layer of grass, at least there was a resting place now for all the lives that Hydra had stolen from them. They were not nameless unknowns anymore, fallen through the cracks of time and forgotten. These gravestones were the best way Steve and Bucky had found to say, They lived. They matter. They still have value.

The three gravestones in the middle were simple ones, adorned only with the names and dates of the ones buried beneath.

Grant Rogers ~ January 11, 2016
Mabel Barnes ~ September 25, 1992 – January 11, 2016
Eve Rogers ~ April 28, 2014 – January 11, 2016

To the left and right of these three were two larger, squarish stones Steve and Bucky had erected for the ones whose bodies they weren't able to bury. Written on the stone to the left, surrounded by a design of daisies and lilacs, was the inscription:

In remembrance of
Sebastian Barnes
Eugene Barnes
Pearl Barnes
Irene Barnes
Quentin Barnes
And all other victims of Project Legacy

"Though now for a season lost from sight, The innocent slain in the blindness of night Are now in the warmth of God's glorious light Where they rest in peace, and rise in glory."

The stone on the right was decorated with irises and lilies, surrounding the words carved deeply:

In Loving Memory
Vivian Rogers
Gabriel Rogers
David Rogers
Jonathan Rogers
Noah Rogers

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

- Matthew 19:14

Steve sighed, running his eyes over the shapes of the five gravestones before him. He hadn't wanted it to be like this. Well, naturally he wished he didn't have to stand in front of his children's graves at all. But he especially hated having to stand before all of them at once. Though these stones brought a certain measure of closure at last, they were also a testament to the staggering amount of death Hydra had dealt his family.

And everything seemed to be happening at once. Not only did today mark their final farewell to their children. Today, he had also learned that Peggy was dead and that the few members of his family that did still live were in danger of losing any chance of freedom or privacy.

At the beginning of this day, the most he'd been worried about was breaking down in front of everyone and crying on his children's graves. Now that the sun was sinking behind the trees and the shadows were lengthening, he felt utterly exhausted. Wrung out. Every emotion had ripped through him, and he didn't think he could feel anything anymore.

Tomorrow, there would be so much to do. Not only would he have to take care of Jake's needs as usual, he would also have to make arrangements to get to Peggy's funeral in London in three days.

Oh...three days. The same day the U.N. would be signing the Sokovia Accords. He wasn't an Avenger anymore. He'd have to figure out where he, Bucky, and Jake would go, because they couldn't stay here. And it had been one thing to live with Sam indefinitely when it had been just him and Bucky, but with a growing boy as well...

"It's okay."

Steve looked up and found Bucky watching him closely. Bucky smiled sadly and let go of Steve's hand just long enough to wrap an arm around his waist instead. Steve pulled him closer, and they stood side-by-side, looking at the graves again.

"We're going to be okay," Bucky murmured, resting his head against Steve's shoulder. "Whatever comes our way...we can deal with it."

Steve took a deep breath, settling all the anxieties churning in his stomach. "Because we have each other, right?"

Their left hands clasped each other, the rings on their forefingers clinking together. They leaned on each other for support, just like always.

What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you?

- James 4:1

Author's Note: Here we come at last to the part where this story lines up with the events of Civil War! I knew from the outset that things would happen differently, not only because of Project Legacy but also because Bucky's already with them, and tells Tony about his parents at the first opportunity. Also, because I dealt with Crossbones in Make Me Whole, he's not around to muck things up in Lagos. But it seems apparent that the UN were already well on their way to introducing the Sokovia Accords before Lagos happened, so I figured the absence of Crossbones wouldn't interfere with that too much.

I enjoyed this opportunity to flesh out the conversations around the Accords a bit more than they are in the movie, with its time constraints and the way it's always itching to get to the next action scene. This medium provides me with more space to actually dig down into what the disagreement over the Accords truly is, and give all the characters more of an opportunity to have their say. I hope I did everyone justice with the way I altered and added to their lines. You may also notice that I gleaned some lines from later on in the movie, because they're really good lines but—as you will come to see—things go down rather differently in my version, so those conversations won't be happening like that.

Additionally, I won't bore you too much with the ramblings of a name dork, but suffice to say that every name I chose for Steve and Bucky's children has significance. Some are probably pretty obvious already, but feel free to look up the others if you're curious. One thing I'll point out is that, with the exceptions of Grant and Vivian, all of Steve's children's names are Hebrew in origin. Whether you'd like to think that was a conscious choice on Steve's part or not, it feels like an appropriate "screw you" to the literal Nazis who caused their deaths.