Nothing can tame the winter's cold
Or wash the beauty from a rose
Under the ashes you'll find gold
You're stronger than you even know

I can't stop the world, no, no
I can't stop the world, no, no, no
But I promise that I'll be here for you
I can't drown the flames no more
Take away the pain, no, no, no
But I promise that I'll be here for you

- "Be Here for You" by Sam Tinnesz

The Avengers compound was so quiet now. Tony hadn't been back since the day he'd shown up with Secretary Ross, and neither had Rhodey. Clint had taken Wanda back to his farm, and Vision had gone with them—though whether that was to go on vacation or to keep an eye on Wanda since she hadn't decided whether to sign the Accords or not, Sam wasn't sure. Natasha had left to attend the Accords signing in Vienna, and of course Steve and Bucky were in London.

That left Sam and Jake alone in a building that had never felt so huge before. But Sam tried to make the best of it, knowing that in a couple days at least Steve and Bucky would be back, and they'd all be relocating anyway.

The only question was...where? Sam hadn't been an Avenger very long—technically, the only action he'd officially seen was the raid on that Hydra base—but he still found himself feeling a little adrift when he tried to think of what he would do now. The one thing he was sure of was that, wherever Steve's little family ended up settling down, he was determined to conveniently find a place to live close by, at least in the general area. He certainly wasn't going to lose touch with his brothers after everything they'd been through together.

So Sam spent a little time researching possible jobs and affordable housing in all the places he figured Steve and Bucky were likely to move to, but he wasn't going to make any final decisions until they made theirs. In the meantime, he devoted most of his time and energy to Jake.

As he'd reassured Steve multiple times, Sam had plenty of experience dealing with small children. In terms of his physical needs, Jake was pretty easy to take care of. He was obedient to a fault, scurrying to follow Sam's directions and never raising a single word of complaint. He didn't throw a tantrum when Sam announced it was time for a bath, he lay down quietly when it was naptime, and he ate every bite of food Sam prepared for him. If every kid was this easy, he said to himself, I'd start a daycare.

But as easy as it was to take care of such a quiet, submissive kid, that also made it kind of sad. Jake didn't laugh or smile, no matter how many silly faces Sam pulled. He made no demands to read the same book over and over again, but just sat there listening passively to whatever Sam decided to read to him. There was no pretending—no sword fights, no riding into the sunset on a unicorn, no pirate treasure, not even any horsie rides.

Sam tried to stimulate Jake's imagination as much as he could. He made funny voices for the stuffed animals that Jake never played with, having them ask Jake what he wanted to do next. He took Jake outside for a picnic lunch and tried to get him to find shapes in the clouds. He had Jake help him make meatballs for supper, and showed him how to make snowmen and pyramids out of the food, then drew a smiley face on his plate with ketchup.

Jake just looked at him like he was crazy.

Early on the first morning, Steve and Bucky called to check in. It was midday in London, so the funeral was already over by then. They turned on the video so Steve and Bucky could see Jake. "Say hi to Daddy!" Sam urged him, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

Hesitantly, Jake raised his hand and stiffly moved it back and forth, trying to mimic Sam.

Steve's face melted into a huge grin, as if Jake had done the most adorable thing ever. "Hey there, buddy," he said. "Are you having fun with Uncle Sam?"

Jake shrank back in his chair, as if afraid the phone would bite him, and nodded hesitantly.

"We're having a blast!" Sam said to fill the silence. "Got a big day ahead of us, don't we, kiddo?"

Jake just nodded mutely again. He seemed relieved when the conversation moved on and he wasn't in the spotlight anymore.

Once he'd finished giving his update on Jake, Sam said, "So, any thoughts on where you guys will be going once you come back? You know, now that you're retired and all?"

"We haven't decided yet," Steve said, looking at Bucky, "but we've got a few options. What about you?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I've still got the place in D.C. I could go back to the VA there, or I could sell the house and move somewhere else. We'll see."

"Sure you're okay with this?" Bucky asked, a furrow in his brow.

"I'm not worried about me," Sam said with a wave of his hand. "I make a great civilian. Besides, I'm more okay with this than signing that piece of crap. Maybe I can't fight like I used to, but I can still do some good."

Steve smirked at him. "And if you're ever out of a job, I can always hire you as a nanny."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

The laughter from the other end of the phone lifted Sam's spirits more than anything else. It let him know that everything was going to be okay.

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, readjusting his tie in the mirror. "It's time."

Bucky didn't move from where he'd sprawled out on the bed, hands tucked behind his head. He'd taken his tie, jacket, and shoes off, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Clearly, he wasn't in any hurry to make himself presentable.

Steve took a step closer and nudged Bucky's foot insistently. "Come on, we're meeting Sharon across the street in five minutes."

"Nah, you go on without me," Bucky said, resolutely closing his eyes. "I'm gonna take a nap."

Steve frowned. "Don't you want lunch?"

Bucky shrugged. "I had a lot of those sausage things. If I get hungry later, I'll just get room service." He cracked an eye open, a smirk playing about his lips. "Well, go on. Don't keep the lady waiting on your first date."

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's not a date, Bucky."

Bucky crossed his legs at the ankles and said in a singsong, "The more you protest, the less I believe you!"

Tossing a pillow at him, Steve turned to leave. "Believe whatever you want, jerk. Doesn't make it true."

Just before the door closed, he caught Bucky calling after him, "Keep telling yourself that, punk!"

Sharon was waiting for him outside the pub. Steve used jetlag as an excuse for Bucky's absence, but as they went inside and found a table, he wondered if Sharon thought he'd asked Bucky to stay behind so the two of them could be alone. He hoped not.

The silence was a little awkward until they ordered their food. They might have lived in the same apartment building for a while, but they hadn't actually talked that often. And even when they had...well, how much of that had just been Sharon's cover story?

Steve grabbed hold of the first topic that came to mind. "So, Peggy was your...aunt?"

"Great-aunt," Sharon corrected him. "She had a brother who died in World War II; that was my grandfather. My grandmother went to the States when it got too dangerous over here, and that's where she raised my father."

"It sounded like you and Peggy were pretty close," Steve said.

Sharon nodded. "She was always my role model. She didn't have any kids of her own, so she spent a lot of time with us. And...well, I don't like to brag, but she used to say that I was 'a girl after her own heart.'" She smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek.

"So, did anyone else join the family business?" Steve asked. "Is this the part where I find out my mailman was your cousin or something?"

Sharon chuckled, shaking her head. "I don't think my grandmother was too fond of Aunt Peggy's dangerous life. She made sure my dad settled down with a nice, steady job—he's an accountant."

"Oh, so you're a rebel," Steve said with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, I was corrupted at an early age by too many exciting bedtime stories." Sharon pretended to shake her head regretfully. "My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster."

Steve grinned. "Very practical."

"And stylish."

There was a brief lull in the conversation as their food was served, but then Steve smiled and said, "I've been meaning to ask you. When you were spying on me from across the hall—"

Sharon's eyebrows rose, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You mean when I was doing my job?"

The teasing smile faded away as Steve asked, "Did Peggy know?"

Sharon shook her head. "She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you."

Steve nodded, his eyes dropping to his plate. He hadn't realized until that moment how much that one detail mattered to him. He wasn't sure why. Even if Sharon had told her about her assignment, would Peggy have remembered it?

"It must have been hard," he said quietly, looking back up at Sharon. "Watching her...deteriorate like that...when you were so close."

Sharon nodded sadly. "Yeah...sometimes it was pretty rough, especially when she didn't remember who I was. But...I meant what I said during the service," she added with a little smile. "She might have been fading, but...it was still her, you know? She'd shine through even when the memories were gone, sometimes in the smallest ways. But I think those were the most beautiful moments, because they went...beyond memories, or words. You know what I mean?"

Steve thought, not only of Peggy, but also of Bucky. Even when Steve hadn't known who he was and Bucky's memories were still muddled, little bits of him had peeked out of his shell. Those were the things Steve had noticed, even when he hadn't realized what it meant.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I do."

Sharon's eyes were warm with sympathy as they met his. They were brown, he realized. He'd never noticed that before. "It must have been even harder for you, though. I mean...I watched her grow old. I knew it was coming. But you..."

Steve smiled half-heartedly. "I blinked and she got old without me."

"Do you regret that?"

He'd asked himself that many times over the years, and he hadn't always come up with the same answer. But this time, he found that he could truthfully say, "No. It was the price I had to pay for the choices I made. And I don't regret those choices. I'm just glad she had a loving family to take care of her while I was gone."

This time, the silence that settled over them as they ate was thoughtful. Comfortable. Steve was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Sharon, even about something so deeply personal. Maybe that was just a side effect of attending the funeral of someone they both loved.

"So, what is it that you do now?" Steve finally asked. "You know, since I...kind of put you out of a job a couple years ago."

Sharon laughed. "CIA. Joint Terrorism Task Force, in Berlin."

Steve nodded. "Sounds fun."

"I know, right?" She grinned at him over her glass of water. "And what about you? What have you been up to in the past couple years? Besides all that stuff in Sokovia; everyone knows about that."

Everything that had happened in the past twenty months flitted through Steve's mind. He certainly wouldn't be able to sum it all up as easily as Sharon had. "Uh...how much detail do you want?"

Sharon pushed her plate to the side and leaned her elbows on the table. Her smile was bright with interest. "As much as you want to give me."

Steve teetered on the brink, giving her one last chance to back away. "Okay, because there's a lot..."

"I'd expect nothing less of Captain America."

So Steve took a deep breath and began to tell her everything. He told her about convincing the Winter Soldier to go into hiding with him and Sam. He touched on how they'd helped build Winter's confidence and overcome his addictions. He described Crossbones' plan to coax them out of hiding, and how they had finally defeated him. He told her how Winter had finally taken his mask off and revealed that he was really Bucky.

He explained how he'd gathered the Avengers together, how Bucky had revealed his role in the deaths of Tony's parents, how they'd discovered the existence of Project Legacy. He told her about finding the Hydra base and only being able to bring one of their children back alive.

And he talked about Jake. He talked about Jake's quirks, his challenges, his skills. He talked about how inadequate and unprepared he felt to raise a son. He talked about how he wished he could hold his son without making him uncomfortable, or that Jake would call him 'Daddy,' even just once. He talked about longing to see Jake smile, laugh, or even cry, like a normal four-year-old—because then he would know that Hydra hadn't irreparably damaged the one child he'd been able to save from them.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve knew that he was talking too much. Sharon had only asked for a summary of the past year and a half, not a dissertation on all of his problems. He'd probably just killed any chance of ever having another conversation with her (let alone anything else). Why would she want to waste any more time on a man with seven dead children, and one son that he couldn't even raise properly?

But he couldn't make himself stop. He'd opened the floodgates, and there was no going back. This was the first time he'd been able to tell any of this to someone who hadn't been right there with him. Talking to someone who knew nothing of what had happened was surprisingly cathartic.

And Sharon made it so easy. She listened intently to his story, nodding and asking for clarification at regular intervals, showing that she was paying attention. She looked concerned when he described some of the harder times, and smiled when he gushed over all of Jake's qualities. Her eyes widened in horror and she covered her mouth when he explained what Hydra had done with Project Legacy.

When Steve had finally stumbled his way to silence, he sighed and said, "Sorry...I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

Sharon shook her head. "Don't worry about it. That's...a lot to deal with."

"Sorry," he muttered again.

"Don't be sorry," she said, meeting his gaze steadily. "Thank you for telling me, Steve. I mean it."

Steve's heart lifted. She wasn't turning from him in horror or disgust. She didn't look bored or overwhelmed by what he'd said. She was just...listening. Taking everything in, accepting everything he dumped on her with grace and compassion.

She smiled a little, and he found himself smiling back.

As they stepped through the doors to the hotel lobby and headed for the elevators, Steve fingered the scrap of napkin in his pocket. He'd surreptitiously scribbled his number down while paying their bill, but he still hadn't decided if he should give it to her or not. Was that too forward? Was he just making assumptions because she'd been nice after he'd rambled on for so long? Maybe she'd been subtly hinting in one direction or another, and he just hadn't picked up on it. After all, what did he know about any of this? There were many words he could use to describe his love life, but ordinary certainly wasn't one of them.

"So, this Accords thing is happening?" Sharon asked, cutting through his thoughts.

Steve heaved a sigh and hit the button for the elevator. The Accords were probably already signed by now. The new chapter of his life was about to begin. He tried to smile. "Guess I'm taking some time off now."

The elevator doors opened with a ding. Sharon chuckled as they stepped inside. "Oh, really? When was the last time there wasn't a uniform hanging in your closet?"

Steve smirked at her, pressing the button for his floor. "What, you don't like the outfit?"

"Oh no, it suits you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Believe me."

Their eyes locked, and something squirmed deep inside Steve's chest. The elevator suddenly seemed incredibly small and stuffy. Looking away, Steve tried to ignore the heat creeping up the back of his neck. He stared blankly at the floor numbers ticking past, willing the blush to fade away. As if that would work.

He made himself say something before the silence could get too awkward. "There's no uniform for being a father, though."

"No," she agreed as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped out, "because then you could put it in the closet and leave it behind."

It was true. Fatherhood was one role that he would hold for the rest of his life, no matter what happened. That was reassuring.

"Oh!" Sharon blinked at the number posted on the wall facing the elevators. "This isn't my floor." Laughing at herself, she pressed the button again, but the elevator must have already left, since the doors didn't open immediately.

Well, I would invite you to my room, but I think Bucky would have a thing or two to say about that. Steve bit his tongue to keep himself from saying that out loud. He might be inexperienced, but even he knew it was too early to joke like that.

When Sharon turned back to him and smiled, Steve felt the blush he'd almost managed to conquer returning full force.

"Thanks for lunch. I had a good time."

"So did I." Steve's stomach swooped as he realized this was his moment. He fumbled the napkin out of his pocket, feeling like he'd just shrunk down to the skinny, overlooked man he'd once been. "Uh...and if you're ever...the next time you're back in the States...if you...want to do this again, or..."

Sharon accepted the crumpled bit of napkin, and in a moment, understanding clicked. To his immense relief, a smile slowly spread across her face. She opened her mouth to reply.

"Steve..."

Bucky stood at the doorway to the hallway, eyes wide and face pale, his arms dangling loosely by his sides. He swayed slightly, like he was about to pass out.

"What's wrong?" Steve hastened to Bucky's side, offering him an arm for support.

"I...I didn't..." Bucky said faintly. "Not me..."

"Bucky," Steve said clearly, trying to figure out what was going on. Was he hallucinating, like that time he'd thought he was choking Brad but ended up attacking Steve instead?

But Bucky wasn't fighting him. He met Steve's gaze, his eyes clear but full of shock and confusion. "You...have to see..." He pointed down the hall to where their door stood ajar.

As Bucky grabbed his arm and led him back to their room, Steve glanced over at Sharon, who had been watching with concern. She trailed behind them, her arm half-extended as if ready to help catch Bucky in case he fell over.

When they reached their room, Steve heard a voice talking on the TV. Bucky pointed at it, sinking down onto the foot of the bed where he'd apparently been watching a minute ago.

A news channel was showing footage of firefighters spraying water on a tower of flame spilling out of a large building. The banner at the bottom of the screen proclaimed: UNITED NATIONS COMPLEX BOMBED. Vienna, Austria, Site of Sokovia Accords Summit.

"What?" Steve looked between Bucky and Sharon, whose faces mirrored the shock he felt.

Then something shifted in Sharon's expression, like she'd switched on her professionalism. "I need to make some calls," she said, pulling her phone out of her purse and pacing over to the other side of the room.

"A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the U.N. building in Vienna," the news anchor was saying, as various angles of the fire were shown. "More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka."

Fear suddenly jolted through Steve's heart as he remembered: "Natasha was there!"

Bucky's head snapped up, his eyes widening further as Steve frantically searched his pockets for his phone.

But the next image that appeared on the screen made him freeze. Grainy footage from a security camera showed a man dressed all in black lurking around the back of a news van. He looked around furtively, as if trying not to be spotted, then crossed right in front of the camera. The video froze just as the man happened to look in the direction of the camera. It was blurry and far away, so all they could see was the basic shape of the man's face. That, and the light glinting on the man's left arm—as if it were made of metal. He was wearing a jacket much like the Winter Soldier had, exposing his metal arm all the way up to the red star painted on the shoulder.

"Officials have released a video of a suspect," the news anchor chattered on, "whom they have identified as the Winter Soldier, the infamous Hydra agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassination."

Steve leaned in closer, heart pounding, as if somehow by staring harder at the image, he could make sense of this impossibility.

"Preliminary attempts at facial recognition have proven inconclusive, but similarities have been noted to the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes." An old black-and-white photo of Bucky appeared alongside the suspect, his head turned to the same angle. The nose and cheekbones looked similar, but... "Presumed to have fallen to his death in 1945, Sergeant Barnes has allegedly been seen several times within the past year in the company of his childhood friend Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. This most recent development seems to give a certain amount of credibility to certain theories that have previously been dismissed as far-fetched—namely, that Sergeant Barnes is none other than the Winter Soldier, who in September of 2014—"

"I didn't do it," Bucky said weakly, staring at the TV in a daze.

"Of course you didn't!" Steve burst out, glaring at the news anchor who kept rambling on obliviously. "Who is this man?" he demanded, pointing at the grainy image of the suspect as it appeared on the screen again. "Why would he pretend to be you?"

Bucky shook his head, as much at a loss as Steve was.

Footage of paramedics rushing a stretcher into an ambulance reminded Steve why he had his phone in his hand. He hastily found Natasha's number and stepped over to the window as it rang.

Every ring seemed to twist his insides tighter and tighter, until finally the call connected. "Yeah?" said Natasha's familiar voice.

Steve let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, nodding in answer to Bucky's worried look. "Nat," he said with a rush of relief. "You all right?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks. I got lucky." She sounded shaken, but that was to be expected. "I'm...assuming you've heard what they're saying? About Barnes?"

"He didn't do it," Steve said immediately. "He's been with me this entire time; he has no reason to do this—"

"I know," Natasha interrupted. "But I'm not the one you need to convince. You know he'll have to be brought in for questioning..."

Cold fingers of dread slithered down Steve's spine. "Are you saying you'll arrest him?"

"No...but someone will."

"This is ridiculous," Steve said. "Whoever that was is obviously trying to frame Bucky. We need to focus on finding this man and stopping him before he blows something else up."

"'We'?"

Steve's mouth shut with a snap. For a moment, he'd actually forgotten that he wasn't an Avenger anymore—and even if he had been, he wouldn't have been the one to make that decision in the first place.

Natasha sighed. "Look, I know how much Barnes means to you, I really do. But you need to stay out of this. You'll only make this worse—for all of us. Please."

Steve leaned against the windowsill, feeling utterly helpless. "How can I do that?" he muttered. "It's Bucky."

"You won't do him any favors by breaking the law," Natasha said firmly. "And if you go after this guy on your own, that's what you'll be doing. That's how it works now."

He hated to admit it, but he knew she was right. Heaving a sigh, he grumbled half-heartedly, "Do I get to say 'I told you so' yet?"

"Yeah, yeah." He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Just be careful—both of you."

"You too," Steve said. "We don't know anything about this guy yet. We don't know what his next target might be."

Once they'd said their goodbyes, Steve turned back to meet Bucky's worried gaze again. "Steve..." he murmured. "What...What do we do?"

Bucky's expression was nervous but trusting. Steve had never felt less deserving of that trust. He had no idea what to do. He couldn't just sit back and let Bucky be arrested and accused of something he had nothing to do with. But what was he supposed to do? Run away? Go into hiding as if Bucky were guilty? That wouldn't help anything. Besides, he had to think about Jake too.

"You need to go to the U.S. Embassy."

Steve looked up, having forgotten for a moment that Sharon was still in the room. She seemed to have finished her phone calls, and now stood looking at Bucky. Steve felt a sliver of unease as he remembered that her job was specifically to deal with situations like these. No matter how friendly she had been, her job would probably require her to at least try to bring Bucky in.

"Sharon," he said, holding up a placating hand, "even if this was something Bucky would do, there wasn't time for him to get to Vienna and back—"

"I know," Sharon said. "He has a watertight alibi, plenty of witnesses at the funeral and here at the hotel—so you need to make sure you can get him legal counsel as soon as possible." Her mouth pressed into a grim line. "We have orders to shoot on sight."

"What?" Steve felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at Sharon, sure he must have misheard her. Surely the CIA weren't going to just...gun him down as if they'd already decided he must be guilty...

But there was no time to process this horrific new twist. Sharon addressed Bucky, who stared back at her, looking dazed. "It's not going to take long until word gets out that you're in London. And knowing my boss...he'd just laugh at you if you asked for a lawyer when he catches up to you. But if you're already at the embassy by the time they track you down, you'll be assigned a local attorney until you can find one of your own. And if you claim refuge at the embassy, the police can't come in and arrest you—or shoot you—without permission. It's your best chance to get to safety before they can find you."

Steve frowned. "But...you know where he is, and you're right here..."

"Yeah." Sharon dropped her phone back into her purse. "I've got a rental car; I'll drive you to the embassy on my way to the airport. And then I'll let my boss know where you are."

"But your orders..."

Sharon raised her eyebrows at him. "I've temporarily forgotten who this man is. I expect I'll conveniently remember once I'm halfway to Vienna."

The burst of gratitude Steve felt towards Sharon diluted the anxiety rising in him, but only a little. He looked over at Bucky, who stood up and nodded. He was still a little pale, but he didn't look like he was about to pass out anymore.

This was all they could do for now. Steve itched to throw on his uniform, grab his shield, and track down the man responsible for such a terrible deed. Instead, he had to accept that the best he could do was make sure this man didn't succeed in blaming it all on Bucky.

"Okay," he said to Sharon. "Lead the way."

Those who seek my life lay their snares;
those who seek my hurt speak of ruin
and meditate treachery all day long.

- Psalm 38:12