When the four of you returned to the compound, there was an immediate split, with Steve and Bucky returning to the team, and you and Tony leaving for Wakanda to pick up the kids. Of course, Steve desperately wanted to talk to you again, but Bucky had convinced him to pull back for a while until you could make your way back home later and had some time to think after the debacle at the safe house. To keep his mind occupied until that day could come, he took the opportunity to lead a mission that required the team to depart right away, leaving him no time to even attempt to intercept you.

Steve stood at the large window that overlooked the yard just outside of the hangar bay, his hands pushed firmly into his pockets so that he could fight the urge to wring them together as he watched for the jet to carry you and Tony away. Maybe he was just imagining it, in his desire for anything that would connect you to him, but as the jet cleared the doors he swore that he saw it slow just enough for you to look back; he felt you look to him, and he had no interest in convincing himself otherwise. His mind had been playing with him quite a bit of late, and this time he didn't seem to care.

"Hey, man, time for us to go," Sam broke into his thoughts, taking a stand next to him, "you ready for this?"

"I am. But I do have one question that you might be able to help me with."

"Sure, anything."

"I was going to do a little reading on the flight, but wouldn't ya know, I just can't seem to find that stack of papers that I left with you yesterday."

"Really?" Sam asked, doing his best to act surprised and completely failing; even your little ones wouldn't have bought his performance. "Weird. Where do you think they could go?"

"Sam, come on. You lie about as bad as I do. What's going on?"

Sam sighed in defeat, glancing at Steve for just a second before looking back out over the grounds with a quiet chuckle under his breath. He had gotten his hopes up before that you and Cap could work this out, and being honest with himself, he never really lost that hope. The last thing he wanted to do was to let that seep out and over to Steve so that he didn't set him up for just another let-down, but this was the first real sign that had him thinking it was all going to be okay.

"She told Bucky to hide them from you."

"She...she what? She did? Why? Why would she do that? What does that mean? Did she change her mind? Do you think I need to call her?"

"Steve, hey, you've gotta settle down," Sam interrupted, a hand up to stop him. "This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything. Let's not read too much into this, okay? He said that she was confused and wanted to think while she was away with the kids. It doesn't mean that she changed her mind."

"But she could."

"Hell yeah, she could," he agreed energetically, totally ignoring the resolve that he had made to play it cool; he quickly realized that he needed to reel both of them in before they were in too deep. "Listen, she's gonna come around, we all believe that. But right now, let's focus on this job and let her hang out with the kids for a while. It might be good to get your head out of it for a few days."

"Yeah, you're probably right, Sam. Maybe a mission is just what I need right now."

~~~

"Maaaamaaaa! Paaaapaaaa!" came the beautiful squeals that were music to your ears, belonging to the three little blondes running across the lawn towards you. Both you and Tony kneeled down readily to accept them, and their confusion was immediate in their sweet faces; did they run to you or to their Papa? They wanted you both, and the decision was nearly too much. In a last second maneuver, they ambushed you both, knocking you backwards in a heap of laughter and pained groans.

"Don't let them win, (Y/N)!" Tony yelled from under the pile. "We'll never live this down!"

"Never!"

Grant tried to tickle Tony under his arms, but you scooped him up before he could get his hands under the jacket, rolling him over onto the ground and blowing a loud raspberry against his soft belly. "Dad, you owe me for that save!"

"I'm on it!" Taking Brooklyn under his arm, he swooped Anthony from his grip around your neck and stood up, twirling the duo around until the three of them were dizzy and had to stop. He stumbled and wavered, his feet tripping over each other while he shook his head to clear the sensation and gently sitting himself and the little ones back on the ground. "Yep, I'm too old for this, guys."

"Oh, you three have too much energy," you sighed, rolling onto your back in the soft grass, taking just a second to enjoy the silence of the grounds of T'Challa's home and the clear blue of the sky above you. If you could stay there forever, it would be far too tempting to take the offer.

"It looks like you've had quite the welcome," Wanda greeted as she approached, "they've been trying to decide how to be sure you knew how excited they are to see you. I think they made their point."

"Wanna! Did you see?" Brooklyn laughed, pushing away from Tony to go to her, but she stopped short with a furrowed brow as she looked past her. "Where's Chalala?"

"Did she just call him 'Chalala'?" Tony gasped, sitting up quickly with a wide grin. "Baby, did you just call him Chalala?"

"Papa, did you see Chalala's kitty ears?" Anthony added, only making Tony that much more gleeful. "He has kitty claws too!"

"This is amazing. (Y/N), you've made perfect children, I'll say it again."

"Uncle T'Challa left, Brooklyn, but he'll be back in a few days. He went to help your Daddy with a job that Auntie Wanda thinks is a really bad idea."

You were about to ask what she meant, when one of T'Challa's staff appeared from the house, breaking into a near-sprint on his way to Tony. "Excuse me, sir? I have an emergent message for Mr. Stark from a Mr. Nick Fury."

Tony glanced over his shoulder at you and leapt up to grab the message from the page's hand, reading it calmly as you and Wanda looked on, but you could read him like no one else. Whatever he was seeing was upsetting him greatly, as the shake in his hands soon began to give it away.

"Dad?"

"We need to go."

"Why?" you asked cautiously, standing to take your place next to him. "We just got here. What is it?"

"Don't worry, everyone is going to be alright," he began slowly, "but they're pretty banged up and he needs us to come home."

"It really says that they're going to be okay? Don't lie to us." Your mind immediately went to Steve and your body began to react; your heart was racing before you even knew the full extent of what had happened. "Does it say who was hurt?"

"Yeah...um, hold on," he paused, running his fingers over the screen. "T'Challa, Clint, Scott..." he stopped again, turning to you with a sadness in his lowering voice, "Sam and Bucky took the worst."

"What the hell happened? How is it so many?"

"I don't know, but we should move out," he answered quietly. "I have a feeling that Steve is beating himself up pretty hard for this. He took the mission on as the lead, and I bet that he's going to need some support. Are you ready for that?"

"I guess we'll find out soon enough."

~~~

Tony was pushing the quinjet to its limits to get you all back home as quickly as possible, but to you, no matter how fast the plane moved, the clouds in the skies around you passed by at a snail's pace. Your mind couldn't begin to fathom what could have happened to take out nearly your entire team, and what Steve must be feeling at this very moment. You knew him and how he would be thinking, blaming himself for the outcome even if there was nothing that he could have changed; he would convince himself that he should never lead again. By the time that you could get to him, his mind would have run with every negative idea that crossed it, and he would be so far gone that maybe even you wouldn't be able to reach him; you weren't sure that he would even let you.

"They're going to be okay," Tony offered, breaking your concentration.

"I know," you sighed, smiling weakly in reply before turning back out to the window. "Are we close?"

"Ten minutes, tops."

"Kay," you muttered, turning your chair to stand and make your way to the rear of the jet. Your mind was scattered, trying to piece together an event that you had very few details of, and preparing yourself to see its outcome for your own eyes. Wanda was even more silent than you had been; you could see the worry in her expression and sat on the bench next to her, drawing her out of her thoughts with a touch of your hand over hers. "Hey, you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just making sure that the kids didn't forget anything..."

"Wanda, it's fine to be worried, they're our friends."

"If it was going to be so dangerous, they had no business being there," she began. With each word, her volume increased as did her slam of each toy that she gathered into her bag. "They should have waited until we were all there so that the team was as strong as it could have been. Steve and Sam said it wasn't going to be that bad, but I think now that they knew what they were getting into and went ahead anyway because they're stubborn and have overblown egos that barely fit in their suits anymore. I told T'Challa not to go, and to make them wait, but apparently no one listens to anyone with sound reasoning. Steve has always taught me to formulate a plan for multiple options and outcomes before making the first move but he just jumps in with both feet and a blindfold."

"Okay, let's just take a deep breath, Wanda. What was the mission about anyway? They haven't told Dad or I anything other than to come home."

"Of course they didn't," she scoffed, standing up with a shake of her head in annoyance, "they knew that you would try to stop them. They all decided together that while you and Tony were with us in Wakanda, they would ambush the Hydra base in D.C. that took you." She stopped and gave the safety straps on each seat a firm pull to be sure that the chairs that held your children were tight, but you could see it was also to distract her from her worries. "It was a revenge mission, (Y/N), and it's no wonder that they failed. No one has a clear mind for making good decisions when vengeance is foremost, and now, they're all seeing that clear as day."

~~~

It warmed your heart a little to see Vision appearing to meet Wanda at the jet as soon as the door opened, and even though their hug felt slightly awkward to watch, it still hit you with a stab of pain and longing to have had someone there to meet you as well. Steve used to always be there when you came home, and you would wait for him the same, but now seeing it played out by someone else, it hurt. It hurt like hell.

"(Y/N)," Vision greeted, releasing his hold on her, "I am so pleased to see you again, and that you appear to be doing well. Have you returned...permanently?"

"I hope so, Viz," you smiled, reaching out for a quick hug for yourself. "I hate to ask this right as we get here, but the kids fell asleep on the trip-"

"Say no more, (Y/N), I will put them to bed straight away. I believe that your presence is better suited in the med bay. Captain Rogers is not himself, and I feel that he would benefit by seeing you as soon as possible."

"Thank you." Tony hurried past you and grabbed your hand to lead you out, with Wanda following closely behind. When the three of you entered the infirmary, you came to a sharp stop at the door with a harsh suck of breath in at the sight in front of you. "Holy shit."

Clint and Scott were on beds to the far right, asleep and not looking too bad at first glance; they had a few bandages scattered around their bodies, a cast on Scott's leg and a sling holding Clint's arm in place. Overall, they looked like they were going to be the fastest to make a recovery. The beeps of monitors and hums of medication pumps around you was oddly soothing, rhythmic enough to keep them lulled to sleep.

"T'Challa," you sighed in relief as he approached to greet you at the door, "what happened? How badly were you hurt?" Your eyes scanned over him frantically, trying to see where his injuries were without robbing him of his modesty that was barely maintained in the flimsy hospital gown.

"Nothing that won't heal, (Y/N)," he smiled, pulling you into a hug to distract you from the wince of pain when he moved. "I've missed you, and am so relieved to see that you've come home. He needs you," he whispered, tilting his head towards Steve.

"So I hear." Actually, you not only heard that he needed you, but you could see it, even from the other side of the room. He looked broken without having to hear a word from him, his shoulders dropped and his head in his hands. The pain was emanating from him as you approached and you felt it acutely with him, proving to yourself that your connection to him wasn't fully broken.

"Steve?"

He turned in his chair just enough to see you, though in his haze he may not have readily realized that it was really you in front of him and not the figment of his imagination that he had been seeing since the team got home. He wanted you to be there with him so badly that he was seeing you everywhere, and he couldn't trust his own mind to be truthful now; he turned back to face Sam and Bucky without a word.

You cautiously stepped forward to take a stand in front of him, blocking his view and forcing him to look up when he realized that maybe you were real after all. A stray trickle of blood dripped from the large gash that started at his hairline and ran across his temple; he wiped it away casually onto his sleeve, which was now covered in the remnants of old blood from how many times he had done the same move over and over. Grabbing a bandage from the table next to Sam's bed, you hurried forward and pressed against the wound with one hand, your other cupping his cheek as you bent down to look at him.

"Steve, say something."

"I couldn't stop it, (Y/N)," he whispered shakily, "no matter what I did, there were just more of them. So many...we tried to retreat back, but I wasn't fast enough..." His gaze shifted from you and to Bucky again, and then to Sam, and the tears began to well again as he replayed it all in his mind. "They shot him out of the sky," he whimpered, "...Buck tried to catch him...but then he dropped next...I ran as fast as I could..."

"They're going to be okay, Steve," you tried to reassure, "this isn't your fault."

"It is. I made this mission...I planned it. I wanted revenge. I dragged them into this...If Bruce hadn't been there to stop them..."

"Please, don't do this to yourself."

"Why are you here, (Y/N)?" he finally asked.

"Because we should all be together," you answered readily, but it wasn't the full truth. Looking in his eyes clawed at you and ripped your heart to shreds, knowing that between the pain of losing you and now the guilt he was taking on with this, the man didn't have much left to hold onto. You loved him still, that was never a question; it was a matter of forgiveness and that you weren't ready to give it. But seeing him like this, you felt his regret for the first time as if it were your own. He was so alone, and so lost, just as you had been since you left. "And...because I wanted to be here for you. If you want me to be."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"When this is done, and they're better...then what? Will you leave again?"

"Steve-"

"Please...don't leave." He lifted a hand to yours, wrapping his fingers gently around it and pulling it away from his face; his eyes searched yours for any sign of the woman that loved him for so long, hoping that there was even a spark of that person looking back. "(Y/N), I do want you to be here...I need..." he stopped, lowering his gaze, "I need you to be here. When it's all done, I wouldn't blame you if you left...but...don't."

"Dammit," you sighed, reaching up to hold his face again, kissing him in a spur of the moment decision. He readily responded, pulling you against him and deepening the kiss desperately to keep you there. It felt like the best decision you had made in forever, feeling him next to you again after so long, making you realize just how much you had missed him after denying yourself this contact.

"Wow," he gasped, reluctantly pulling back, "that was-"

"Late," you sighed, pressing your forehead to his with a slight hum of contentment.

"Damn right."