Well, if lonely's a sin then I'm the worst of them all
My heart isn't able to let go at all
While a part of me's trying, the other will stay
With you always with me in some kind of way
'Cause you're always with me in some kind of way

- "Some Kind of Lonely" by Harbor & Home

Dr. Theo Broussard waved with a small smile as Steve Rogers' car pulled out of the parking lot of A New Hope. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his old grey cardigan, he ambled up the walk to the main building. It was hot outside, but the air conditioning made the buildings feel like an icebox. So different from anywhere in Europe, or Africa for that matter. It would take some getting used to.

He'd taken a day to familiarize himself with his new surroundings, learn the names of his coworkers, and get a feel for employee schedules and security camera locations. Of course, his plans would still require a little fine-tuning, but there was no rush. He still needed to set the proper groundwork with the boy, after all.

It was amusing, really. He'd made up most of the intelligent-sounding drivel he'd fed Steve Rogers today, except for one thing: Patience was key.

The children were served their dinner early, so Theo had plenty of time to situate himself in his new office before the boy was sent to see him. It was a nice office, with an excellent view of the pond and the trees surrounding it. Only the best for the renowned Dr. Broussard. Impressive, what reputation could get you, even when no one knew you personally.

At long last, someone knocked on the door. After sharing a few pleasantries with the woman who'd brought him there, Theo turned his attention to the little boy who stood nervously before him. Jacob Rogers. So cute and innocent on the outside, but...he knew this child's legacy.

He sat behind his desk, smiling pleasantly, until the woman left, closing the door behind herself. Then he stood up, dropped the fake smile, and rounded the desk to stand directly in front of little Jake. Clasping his hands behind his back, he said quietly but firmly, "Hail Hydra."

Instantly, Jake stiffened, his eyes going round as dinner plates. He probably hadn't heard those words even once since Steve had taken him in. For a moment, he seemed frozen in shock, but then he hastily stammered, "H-Hail Hydra!"

"When there is a chance others may hear," he said, "you will continue to refer to me as Dr. Broussard, and I will continue to use the name given to you. But my name is Zemo, and you may call me that when we are alone. I am to be your handler from now on, and you will obey my every word. Do you understand, J01?"

"Yes, sir."

Zemo watched a subtle but steady change settle over Jake's features as he spoke. Something closed behind his eyes, like shutters blocking the light. His shoulders loosened, his spine straightened, and all traces of the unsettled timidity seeped out of him He understood his role, so there was no more reason for anxiety. But there was also no reason for emotion or making his own choices. All he had to do was follow orders.

This was going to be even easier than Zemo had anticipated.

"Sit," Zemo said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk, while he went around to the other side and sat in his own comfortable chair.

Jake immediately sat down as directed, his spine stiff and his legs not swinging even slightly. Just like a little robot. Though Zemo held no love for Hydra, he had to admit—their methods were certainly effective.

"Mission report," Zemo barked out, watching the boy's face closely to analyze his reactions.

Something flitted across Jake's face—fear?—but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "Target: Steve Rogers. Mission status: Failure."

"And why did you fail, J01?" This was one of the most important points, but Zemo resisted the urge to lean forward. Was there something in Jake, even something unconscious, that had held him back from harming his father? How close of a bond did they have?

But all Jake said was, "The target woke up and disarmed me."

"And why did he not eliminate you immediately?"

Jake dropped his eyes to the floor. "I don't know, sir."

Zemo knew exactly why, of course; it was obvious for all to see that Steve loved this wretched creature. But instead, he said, "It was because you weren't a threat to him. You weren't worth the time or effort to kill. That is why you have been sent here. Be grateful you have a second chance, boy. The next time you fail, you will be killed. Do you understand?"

Jake's breathing quickened, but his face remained stoic. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Then let us resume your training."

Steve,

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I said. I can't stop thinking about I was wrong. Don't listen to me, I don't know what I'm talking about. What do I know about raising a kid? All of my children are dead. I'm not even there. You know best. You always know best, don't you

I'm not going to ask for forgiveness, because I don't deserve it. Just please don't hate me I hope you still love me when I I always mess up, and you always forgive me, but you don't need to do it this time. Just take care of Jake. Do what you think is best. Forget about everything I said.

You don't have to keep visiting me when I get out. I'm sure you don't want to even look at me after everything I said. It'll be easier for me too if you don't come because then I won't have to I don't want to be selfish. So it's okay if you stay away. I don't want I don't need you I'll be fine.

I'm not a good person, and I'm not doing very well in here. Those aren't excuses, by the way. I know this isn't fair to you. But I want you to know that I love you. That isn't worth much, but I love you, and I love Jake. I want what's best for you. So just stay away. I'm only going to hurt you drag you down.

Bucky

Time moved so slowly these days. Steve tried to get used to the new routines, but even when the days had turned into weeks, everything still felt...wrong. The apartment was too empty, the trip to see Jake every day was too long, and every hour of every day dragged by.

Bucky's silence was the worst part. Steve knew that Bucky wasn't allowed visitors or phone calls when he was in solitary confinement, but the uncanny timing made it hard to keep from feeling like Bucky was giving him the cold shoulder. It didn't help matters that Bucky's punishment was longer than usual this time. Always before, he'd been sent to solitary for two weeks. But it seemed apparent that someone had noticed how Bucky kept on getting into trouble, and decided that he needed to be locked up for a whole thirty days this time.

Steve was counting down the days. He wasn't sure if that made the time pass faster or slower, but he planned to go visit Bucky at the very first opportunity. He had no idea if Bucky would consent to see him or not, but he had to try. He had to look him in the eye and apologize. He had to make things right again. He could only imagine what Bucky's mind was saying to him now, fueled by Steve's thoughtless words.

Though he'd drafted several letters to Bucky, Steve never sent them. There was such a delay in the mail when Bucky was in solitary, he had no guarantee that Bucky would see a single one of them before he got out again—if the letters even made their way to him at all. Steve wasn't sure if he should blame an inefficient system or cruel staff, but sometimes it seemed that Bucky only received about half of the letters Steve sent him. Most of the time, that was okay, because Steve could just tell him in person, but that wouldn't work this time.

Besides, he had no idea what Bucky thought of all this. He wanted to wait until he could hear what Bucky had to say, so he could know how to respond. If only Bucky would write to him...but maybe he had. Steve hadn't gotten a single letter from him, but that didn't mean anything one way or another. For all he knew, he'd end up with a stack of letters as soon as Bucky got out of solitary again. It had happened before.

Unless Bucky had decided he didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Sam brushed aside his worries as ridiculous, and Casey patiently challenged his reasoning until he had to admit that it wasn't in Bucky's character to respond like that, even if he was furious with him. But there were still many moments—especially late at night, when Steve lay in bed, unable to sleep—when he wondered. Maybe this was the end. He wanted nothing more than to apologize to Bucky and start over again...but what if Bucky didn't want to hear him out?

For now, though, there wasn't anything he could do about it. He just had to try to be patient, and make the best of things. So he continued to visit Jake every day, even though Jake hardly ever talked to him and almost seemed afraid to so much as look at him. He dutifully went to his appointments with Casey, even though he wasn't sure how much it was helping. And he kept on trying to figure out what he would say to Bucky once his time was up.

But even though Steve felt as though his life was at a standstill, Sam didn't let him just stagnate alone in his apartment all the time. Now that he didn't have an honorary nephew to babysit all the time, Sam picked up more hours at the VA. That didn't surprise Steve at all, but what did catch him off guard was when Sam tried to recruit him to help out too.

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" Sam cajoled one evening as they stood at the kitchen counter together, putting together a chicken pot pie from scratch. (Steve had a sneaking suspicion that Sam kept on picking dishes that required lots of prep time to keep him occupied for as long as possible.)

"A bunch of soldiers talking about their trauma is fun?" Steve grumbled, peeling the potatoes a little more forcefully than necessary.

"Maybe not," Sam conceded, chopping up the carrots. "But I'll tell you what is gonna be fun: the looks on everybody's faces when they realize Steve Rogers is leading the discussion!"

"Wait, why am I leading the discussion? My experience begins and ends with that one time I poked my head in on your session back when we first met."

"No," Sam said with an annoying amount of patience. "Your experience also includes all the years you've spent as a soldier, all your time with the Avengers, and every day since then. Seriously, dude, mainly what I do is just talk about what I've been through so others will do the same. It's not rocket science. But you don't have to jump right into leading a group or anything. Maybe you could just come and help out with child care."

Steve put down the potato peeler and stared at Sam. Him, watching over other people's children? Sitting on the floor and playing with someone else's son...tickling him to make him laugh...picking him up when he fell and wiping away his tears...when his own son was beyond his reach, untouched by everything he tried to do...

Sam didn't seem bothered in the slightest by Steve's expression. "It's a real need," he said mildly. "Most of the groups meet outside of business hours so everyone can make it, but that also means their kids aren't in school or daycare. We've got a lot of single parents, and not all of them have someone they can leave their kids with regularly. And there's a group on Thursday nights to help couples, so they need child care too. Marcia was just telling me the other day that Abby's headed off to college in a couple weeks, so she's looking for another helper. Surely you've got at least as much ability as a high schooler..."

Steve found that he couldn't look Sam in the eye for very long. Just because his own problems were as tall as mountains, that didn't mean he could just ignore people in need. And though he didn't feel worthy of even looking at anyone else's children, if there was something he could do to help someone else...shouldn't he do it without hesitation?

With a sigh, he picked up the potato peeler again. "I'll think about it."

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied for the moment. He let silence fall between them for a few minutes, then continued thoughtfully, "Something else I've been thinking about. There's so many vets I've known who end up homeless. And once you're out on the street, it's next to impossible to leave. I mean, for starters, nobody wants to hire you if you've been sleeping rough for a week and can't shower. And what do you do if you don't have an address to put down on an application? A lot of these people are so talented and intelligent, but how can you expect to do well in an interview if all you can think about is how hungry you are or how you have no idea where you're going to sleep that night? I just keep thinking it'd be really great if I could find a place for some of these guys I know, a safe place where they could stay, to give them a hand while they get back on their feet—"

"Yes," Steve said quietly, picking up a knife and starting to dice the potatoes.

"Huh?"

"You can use this building." Steve smiled a little at the stunned expression on Sam's face. "There's way more space here than we're ever going to need, so we might as well put it to good use. I didn't want a lot of neighbors at first, because of Bucky and Jake, but...that's not really an issue now." He swallowed the bitter sting of those words.

Sam blinked a few times in quick succession, apparently adjusting the trajectory of what he'd planned on saying. "Oh. Well, I was going to ask you for a loan, but... You sure this is okay?"

"Absolutely." The way Sam's eyes brightened more and more as he spoke would have been enough to convince Steve, even if he hadn't just been thinking he needed to find more ways he could help those in need. "It's pretty pointless if there's only the two of us in this entire building. And maybe if you know of a homeless vet who's got some mechanical skills, you could hire him to do maintenance work on the building."

"Wait...don't you mean you could hire him?"

Steve shook his head. "No, no. This is your idea, so you figure out the details, you do the recruiting. I'll just be the landlord; you'll be the...manager, I guess."

Sam grinned. "I could definitely get behind that."

The rest of that evening, and periodically in the following days, Steve and Sam discussed various details of the plan. It would take a while before Sam's idea could be fully realized, but he seemed to enjoy planning it out. Steve was glad that at least one of them was doing something worthwhile these days.

One advantage of having so much extra time on his hands was that Steve was able to talk with Sharon more regularly. When Jake was at home, Steve usually wouldn't be able to talk until the evening, but the time difference made that rather late for Sharon. Now that the only time constraints he had to deal with were visiting hours at New Hope and his appointments with Casey, he could call Sharon almost every day.

What with so many of his loved ones out of reach, Steve appreciated Sharon's companionship more than ever. Of course, he wished she were in town so she could be right by his side, but he'd take what he could get. Since Sharon usually called as soon as she got home from work, which was around midday for Steve, they soon got into the routine of each fixing a meal while they were on the call and eating together. Steve found that he loved the casual homeliness of doing something so everyday with her. It almost felt like they stood side-by-side in the kitchen, cooking together and telling each other about their day.

As ever, Sharon listened with patience and care to all of Steve's woes. It was comforting when she let him dump the full weight of the worries he was carrying, displaying nothing but concern and sympathy for him. But he discovered he was even more grateful for her once the first storm of emotion was over, and there was nothing to relate but the everyday ups and downs of the new status quo.

He was hard-pressed to put into words exactly why that was the case. Sharon was always interested and supportive when he told her about the huge struggles he faced, like the argument with Bucky or sending Jake away—but she didn't lose any of that interest when yet another day had passed and he still had nothing to say except that he missed Bucky and Jake. Everything about her calls brightened his day—her comments, her smiles, her stories of the mundane things she'd done that day (since she couldn't tell him about any of the things that weren't mundane). Talking with her made him feel like he could keep going for a little bit longer.

Something else he started doing during his calls with Sharon was repairing a few of the toys Jake had broken in his tantrums. A lot of them were so damaged they had to just be thrown out, but Steve had saved a few he thought he could put back together again. Some of the repairs were simple—wheels that needed to be screwed back on or pieces that could be glued together—but he hadn't had time until now to get around to it. The most complicated repair was the stuffed lion Jake had ripped into pieces. Steve had learned to sew long ago, and he had plenty of experience mending clothes, but he'd never had to sew limbs back onto a stuffed animal. There was only a limited amount of help Sharon could offer, but she gave him advice and feedback as he worked.

When he'd finally decided the lion's head was firmly fixed to its body (though slightly lopsided), Steve finished off the project by sewing on buttons for eyes. It didn't look quite as good as the eyes it had come with, but it would do well enough. "Maybe I'll take this to Jake in a few days," he said as he carefully positioned the second button, making sure the eyes were level with each other.

"I'm sure Jake will love it," Sharon said, moving back into view of her phone's camera and sitting down at her table with a mug of tea.

Steve wasn't quite so sure, considering how violently Jake had treated this lion before, but he all he said was, "Well, at least they tell me he hasn't thrown any tantrums at New Hope. Maybe this guy's head will stay on for a bit longer."

"So, wait. Remind me why you're not visiting him this afternoon?"

Steve snipped the end of the thread and examined his handiwork critically, just so he wouldn't have to look at her. "I have an appointment this afternoon," he said, trying to sound casual, but his burning cheeks gave him away. "You know, for the, um...procedure you researched for me."

"You can call it what it is," Sharon chuckled. "I won't blush if you talk about your vasectomy."

Steve turned to his phone, propped up between a banana and an apple in the fruit bowl. "Maybe not, but I will!"

Sharon laughed aloud at that. "Well, now you can sleep easy...with someone else!"

His whole face was burning, but he tried to laugh it off. "I can tell you've been dying to use that one for a while."

"Only since I first started looking up solutions to your problem." Sharon set down her tea with a frown. "But, uh...that wasn't an endorsement for you to start sleeping around just because you can, by the way."

"Of course not!" Steve scoffed, beginning to put away his sewing supplies. "Why would anyone want to cheat on you? You're kind and beautiful, and—"

"'Kind of' beautiful?" Sharon laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Kind and beautiful. You've shown me nothing but compassion and support, even when I can't give you much in return. And anyone who can't see that you're beautiful must be blind."

Sharon had been looking down at her tea while he spoke, but now she looked up and met his gaze. "And that's why you're not going to cheat on me?"

He hadn't been thinking of Kyle until that moment, but as he looked at her, he realized those memories had probably been at the forefront of her mind as their conversation veered in this direction. He took a moment to organize his thoughts, then said decisively, "No. I'm not going to cheat on you because that would be a grossly selfish thing to do to anyone. Not to mention that it would be lying, which I'm apparently pretty bad at," he added with a smirk. "I just can't understand why anyone would want anything other than the kindest and prettiest woman in the world. But I guess I should be grateful they do, if it means I can have you all to myself."

As he spoke, Sharon grew still and silent, a smile slowly creeping across her face. It was hard to tell on the phone's small screen, but Steve thought she might be blushing a little too. They stared at each other across the miles, yet it felt like she was right there in the room with him. He could almost imagine the warm pressure of her hand in his.

Finally, Sharon broke the silence with a sigh as she cupped her chin in her hand and leaned a little closer. "You should be glad I'm in Germany right now, or I'd come over and kiss you within an inch of your life."

Steve grinned, the warmth in his chest spreading to fill his entire body. "Wait, I'm supposed to be happy about that?"

Sharon laughed. "Just you wait, Steve Rogers. Just you wait."

"Should I get rid of this first?" Steve asked, running a hand over his beard. He'd been growing it out ever since Jake had left, more out of convenience than anything else. "I'd hate for it to get in the way of my death by kissing."

Sharon tilted her head to one side. "I think it suits you, actually. And don't worry—nothing's getting you off the hook. The next time I'm in town, you're getting smothered with kisses no matter what you look like. I'm afraid you don't get a say in it."

Steve put a hand on his heart. "I hereby solemnly swear that I shall be a willing participant in my imminent demise."

They continued to talk and laugh until Sharon had to hang up to go to bed. And just like always, she left Steve with a heart as light as a feather.

Steve,

I'm not okay. How could you think I'm okay? You didn't even ask. I'm right here, but it's like you see right through me.

I've never been okay. I've just gotten better and better at pretending. Guess I got good enough that I even fooled you. Or maybe you just think I'm okay because that's what you want to be true. Because if I'm okay, that means all that time wasn't wasted.

But it was. It was all a waste, because here I am, falling to pieces without you. Thanks for saving me, but it didn't do any good in the end. You saved me for yourself, but I don't have you now, so I'm lost again.

Sometimes I wish you never found me so I could just be numb and I wouldn't feel

Be watchful, stand firm n the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love.

- 1 Corinthians 16:13-14