Evelyn sat on the balcony overlooking the compound gardens. The cool night breeze was a welcome respite from the tension earlier. She cradled a mug of tea, her thoughts spiraling between fear, hope, and the unknown.

Bucky's arrival was soft, his steps deliberate but non-intrusive. "Couldn't sleep?"

She looked up, startled but easing at the sight of him. "Something like that," she admitted.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze distant but steady. "You handled yourself back there. Better than most of us would've."

Evelyn shook her head, setting the mug down. "No one wins in situations like that, Bucky. You just… survive."

Bucky's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Survival's an art, and you've seemed to have mastered it." His tone was knowing, heavy with his past. He hesitated, then added, "If you ever need someone who gets it, you know where to find me."

Evelyn met his gaze, her guarded walls cracking slightly. "Thanks, Bucky. That means a lot."

He took a deep breath, and she looked back at him. "What is it?"

He looked at her, "When we first met, you calmed me somehow..."

"I did."

"...How?"

She smiled, "Just a gentle touch."

He looked at her in disbelief, knowing she was hiding something, but she whispered, "If it gets like that again, you...you can come to me. No questions asked."

He nodded, staying with her in silence, a companion of the pain Hydra inflicted.

The first night in the Compound was quiet. Evelyn had never thought silence could feel so loud.

She sat on the edge of her new bed, looking around the unfamiliar room. Stark Industries had spared no expense—sleek, modern furniture, state-of-the-art technology, a bed that felt like sleeping on clouds—and it was perfect. But it wasn't home.

Her fingers brushed over the picture frame she had set on the nightstand—a photo of Morgan sitting on her lap, covered in flour from one of their baking disasters. Tony had taken the picture, laughing at their mess while Pepper pretended to scold them.

Evelyn swallowed hard.

The weight of the last few days was catching up to her. She had spent her entire life trying to stay out of the fight, knowing what it had done to her father and what it had cost him. Now, here she was, stepping right into the middle of it all.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts.

"Hey, you decent?"

Evelyn smiled faintly at Sam Wilson's voice. "Yeah, come in."

Sam poked his head in before stepping inside, holding two steaming mugs. "Brought you some hot chocolate. Figured you could use something sweet after the world's most exhausting initiation."

Evelyn took the mug, warmth seeping through her fingers. "Thanks, Sam."

He sat beside her, stretching his legs out. "The first night in the Compound is always weird. Even after years in the Air Force, my first night here felt like I was in someone else's house."

She sipped her drink, nodding. "Yeah. It doesn't feel real yet."

Sam studied her for a moment before nudging her shoulder. "We're not so bad, you know. You'll get used to us."

Evelyn let out a small chuckle. "I know. I just… I miss them."

"Tony, Pepper, Morgan?"

She nodded. "I never really thought about what it'd feel like to be away from them. Even when Tony had missions, even when Pepper was running SI, even when I was alone… I still felt close to them. But now, it's like—" She exhaled sharply. "It's like I stepped into a different life."

Sam set his mug down and turned to face her fully. "You did step into a different life. And yeah, it's gonna take time to adjust. But you're not alone, Evelyn. You've got people here who care about you."

Evelyn smiled, small but genuine. "I know. And it helps."

"Good." Sam patted her knee and stood up. "Now get some sleep. We've got an early morning."

She groaned. "Please tell me there's not another meeting with Steve."

Sam grinned. "Oh, there is. But don't worry. We'll survive."

Evelyn flopped back onto the bed with a groan, making Sam laugh as he left.

The following day, Sam Wilson was the first to greet her.

"Morning, Stark Jr.," he greeted one day as she entered the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Evelyn," she corrected, grabbing a cup of coffee.

"Sure, sure. I'll call you that when you stop looking exactly like your old man when he's scheming something."

Evelyn snorted. "I do not scheme."

Sam arched a brow. "Uh-huh. I've seen the way you and Peter whisper before a mission. You've got the same 'I'm about to break the rules' face Tony has."

She smirked, sipping her coffee. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Rhodey, sitting at the counter, chuckled. "Kid, I've known Tony longer than you've been alive. You're definitely his daughter."

That should have made her feel warm. Instead, it only made the ache in her chest worse.

She missed her dad.

Evelyn gave a small smile. "I take that as a compliment, so thank you, Rhodes. How about I make pancakes?"

Sam looked up, as did Peter. "Pancakes?"

She chuckled, heading to the kitchen. Bucky watched as he drank his coffee at the counter. "Maybe add bacon and eggs?"

"Oh, I wouldn't, I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering, Peter, it's fine, really." she insisted, Clint rolling up the sleeves. "I'll crack the eggs for you; get started on that batter, kid."

During her adjustment period, Natasha and Clint were careful around her—not because they didn't trust her, but because they knew.

"You alright, kid?" Clint asked after a particularly rough training session.

"Yeah, why?" Evelyn wiped the sweat from her brow.

Clint exchanged a glance with Natasha. "Look, I know what it's like, stepping into this life young. It takes a toll. You need to pace yourself."

Natasha crossed her arms. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. We already know you're capable."

Evelyn bit her lip, looking away. "I do have something to prove."

Natasha studied her carefully before speaking again. "Just don't lose yourself in the process."

Evelyn didn't answer, but their words stayed with her.

Adjusting to the Avengers was strange. Some welcomed her quickly—Sam treated her like a younger sibling, Rhodey watched out for her, and Peter was already her closest friend.

But others…

Clint was careful, always ensuring she was okay but never pressing too hard. Natasha watched her with the quiet calculation of someone who had seen too much.

And Steve—Steve just didn't know what to do with her.

He didn't object to her presence but treated her like a recruit, not a teammate. Every meeting, every mission, he evaluated, tested, and waited for her to prove herself.

It was exhausting.

Evelyn spent her first week figuring out the rhythm of the Compound.

Mornings were training sessions—usually with Peter and Bucky, sometimes with Natasha. Middays were meetings and briefings, where Steve meticulously planned strategies while Tony tried not to roll his eyes. Afternoons were mission simulations and evenings…

Evenings were the hardest.

Because when the day settled, and the noise died down, she missed her family the most.

One night, she sat alone in the common room, flipping through her phone. The group chat with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan was still active. She could see their messages—Pepper sending pictures of Morgan's latest drawing, Tony complaining about a board meeting, Morgan asking when she was coming home.

She wanted to respond.

But home felt far away.

"You look like you're trying to disappear," came Bucky's voice.

Evelyn was startled and looked up. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her like he had been for days.

"Not disappearing," she muttered. "Just… thinking."

Bucky walked over, taking a seat in the chair across from her. "Thinking about home?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

He didn't push. He just sat there, his presence solid, unshaken.

Evelyn sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's weird, you know? Being here. I grew up around this stuff. The tech, the missions, the chaos. But it was always his life. Not mine."

Bucky studied her. "And now it is?"

She exhaled slowly. "I don't know yet."

A pause. Then—

"You remind me of him," Bucky said.

Evelyn blinked. "My dad?"

Bucky nodded. "Not just the attitude. The way you fight. The way you throw yourself into things without hesitation."

Evelyn scoffed. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is a bad thing," Bucky said plainly. "You don't hesitate because you're afraid the weight will catch up to you if you stop."

Evelyn fell silent.

Because he was right.

And it scared her that he saw it so quickly.

After a moment, she sighed. "Did Steve put you up to this?"

Bucky snorted. "Steve doesn't make me do anything."

She smirked. "Good to know."

They sat silently for a while, the quiet comfortable instead of suffocating.

Then Bucky spoke again.

"You'll figure it out, Evelyn. Just don't rush to carry it alone."

For some reason, those words stuck with her long after he left.

Evelyn had been at the Compound for three weeks before Tony finally snapped.

It happened in his lab, where she found him hunched over a holographic blueprint of her new suit, muttering calculations under his breath.

"You know, if you keep obsessing over that thing, I'll be ninety before I get to wear it," Evelyn said, crossing her arms.

Tony barely looked up. "You say I wouldn't build you a retirement-ready exosuit."

"Dad."

Tony sighed, rubbing his face. "You don't get it, Evelyn. I need this to be perfect."

She stepped closer. "It's just a suit."

Tony's head snapped up. "No. It's not."

The weight of his voice made her freeze.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You think I don't know how dangerous this world is? Do you think I don't remember every single thing that almost killed me? That did kill me?"

Evelyn's throat tightened. "Dad—"

"I swore I'd keep you safe," Tony went on. "And then you go and throw yourself onto a missile like it's a goddamn hobby—"

"I did what I had to do!" Evelyn shot back. "What would you have done, Dad? Let them take Morgan? Let them take you?"

Tony clenched his jaw. "I would've built a plan."

"There wasn't time for a plan."

They stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken fear.

Then Tony slumped, rubbing his temple. "Jesus. You really are my kid."

Evelyn swallowed hard. "Yeah. I am."

For a long moment, they didn't speak.

Then Tony sighed. "Fine. Do you want to help? You can help. But you're not stepping into that suit until I say so."

Evelyn smirked. "Deal. But just so you know, I'm totally gonna hack into FRIDAY if you take too long."

Tony groaned. "God help me."

The first time Steve suggested a more structured training regimen for Evelyn with himself included, Tony almost threw something.

"Absolutely not," Tony said, arms crossed as he leaned against the conference table.

Steve exhaled. "Tony—"

"Nope. Don't 'Tony' me. Not happening."

Steve turned to Evelyn. "You need consistency. You need structure."

Tony scoffed. "She has structure."

"Designed by you," Steve said dryly. "Which means it's probably chaotic and half-made up on the spot."

Tony pointed at him. "I resent that."

Steve exhaled, looking between them. "Tony, this isn't about—"

"Steve, I swear to God, if you try to turn her into another soldier, I will throw your shield into the sun," Tony snapped.

Evelyn bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Steve, clearly restraining himself, sighed. "Fine. But she needs a team to rely on."

Tony smirked. "She's got one. Peter and Bucky."

Steve's eyes flicked to Bucky, who had been silent until now. "You're okay with this?"

Bucky shrugged. "She's smart. Quick. She knows how to get out of a fight instead of into one. That's more than I can say for some people."

Steve's jaw twitched, but he nodded. "Alright. But I will be watching."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, join the club."

Later that afternoon, Evelyn joined Peter and Bucky in the training room, where Peter tried (and mostly failed) to show off some new web-swing tricks. Tony observed from the glass-paneled lab above, arms crossed and eyes keen.

"You've got good people around you," he murmured. "They better keep it that way."