Whoever it was who had made the call to bring the Avengers into a mission now was an idiot. They should have known that there was no way that this group could be ready; sure, physically they were still at the top of their game and unmatched against most threats, but mentally they were a wreck. How could they not be after all that had just happened to them, and the unforeseen things that were yet to come? They were things that no one would have anticipated, nor could they have, given the intensity and impossibility of what they had experienced together. Life and death had bonded them forever, but it could also be what would finally tear them apart once and for all.

The mission was a mess, and that was being kind. Never before had the team been so careless, so reckless; they were acting out on pure impulse and instinct, as if they had all but forgotten their training and skills to work as a cohesive group. No one had been spared from the mindset; even Vision, who was usually the voice of reason, had begun to act out as if he had barely any control of his own strength and power with little effort to change his ways.

"(Y/N)," Steve called out to you through the comms, "I need you to get a line to Fury and find out what the hell his goal is here. This is nothing more than a back-alley brawl and we're getting nowhere."

"I'm on it, Cap," you answered readily, blocking any assailant who tried to stop you as you made a run for the jet. One over-eager Hydra thug decided that today was his day to try his hand at taking on an Avenger alone, and he was quick to learn that he should have chosen another day as your shot took him down quite efficiently. "Dumbass," you mumbled coldly, stepping over his lifeless body as you continued forward.

A few seconds after you had reached your destination and just as you sat down at the communications panel to try to contact Nick, heavy footsteps behind you made you spin your chair around almost frantically and totally out of character. Not much used to set off your nerves once you were in your mission frame of mind, and it shook you to feel that just the sound of Bucky's feet behind you could make you jump so high.

"Relax, it's just me."

"Sorry, I guess I'm a bit on edge today." You quickly typed in your message, struggling to remember details like how to code it for the secure channel and routing the reply to come to you over your comm so that you could be mobile. It was beyond frustrating to feel the hesitation, and you were certain that you couldn't be the only one suffering it.

"(Y/N), do you think...could you maybe help me get this stopped?"

"What?" you asked absentmindedly, watching for the message to clear the screen before turning to face your friend. Once your mind caught up to what your eyes were seeing, you bolted up and rushed to his side, pressing your hands into the deep wound in his leg that was spilling his blood onto the cabin floor. "What in the hell happened? Buck, lie down, you're getting pale."

"I'm okay, we just need to close this up."

"You need to lie down like I said," you insisted, not breaking his stare even as he tried to hold the upper hand when he never really had it to begin with. "If you want me to stitch it, then you do as you're told."

"Yes, ma'am," he ultimately gave in, turning his body so he could rest himself down on the bench. "I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy covering Sam that I didn't see the guy on the roof. I was sloppy...oh, dammit..." he hissed when you tore the cloth to expose the cut and to push the wound edges together, "are you being mean on purpose?"

"You have a gash at least six or seven inches long and three deep on your thigh, Buck. It's gonna hurt. I haven't even started working on it yet." Where you were sitting wasn't exactly the best for working, but you didn't feel like moving him would be the best idea with how pale he still was, and how much blood was still spilling through your fingers. You couldn't reach any supplies, but you couldn't release him to try. "Guys," you called to the team, "is anyone in range of the jet? Buck's leg is ripped open and I can't reach the medical kit. I could use a hand. Banner?"

"Banner's too green right now to help, but I'm on the way," Natasha answered instead, but her voice was now being drowned out by Sam, who was just as eager to step in.

"No, I've got it."

"You know what, I'm fine, it'll heal," Bucky tried to argue, but no sooner were the words out before Sam showed up and ripped the kit from the cabinet and knelt next to you as he hurried to open it.

"Tell me what you need, (Y/N)."

Bucky tried to pull his leg from your grip, but you caught the subtle shift in his muscle and held tighter to keep him in place. He was already feeling guilty for being away from the action, but now that his own ineptitude and inattentiveness had pulled Sam away as well it was untenable to him and he wouldn't let it go on. "Sam, get your ass back out there," he tried to command, "stay with the team. I can do this myself. (Y/N), get out there with him."

"What's with you, man?" Sam fought back, but dropping his hands away when Bucky wouldn't allow the contact. "Buck, what's going on?"

"Nothing, alright? Don't make this out to be more than it is. At least I ain't dead. Isn't that what I should be thankful for right now?"

"Buck-"

"No, (Y/N)," he interrupted, now pushing your hands away too, leaving his wound bleeding more than before, "I said stop. It's not that bad, and check it out, you can see my heartbeat in the blood. It's reminding me that I still have one."

"Yeah, because it cut an artery, you damn idiot," Sam tried to reach out again, only to get the same result and his hands slapped away once again. "That's it, I'm done. (Y/N)," he nodded to you, signaling you to take your friend to the ground by force. It wasn't easy, and you would definitely be sporting a black eye for the next few days, but with a combined effort and a desperate call out for Steve to help, you had Bucky restrained and stitched up just as the rest of the team came to the end of their own fight.

Sam wasn't about to take this readily, standing over Bucky with a scowl that carried a sadness beneath it, unable to hide from anyone who cared to look. It was a look that Steve knew very well, having worn it enough in his own lifetime, and strangely enough, for the very same man at the center of attention now.

"I think it's time to call a team meeting," Steve announced to the group, finding a strange and immediate agreement in nods from everyone around him, but it didn't give him any comfort. It wasn't going to be a good meeting if they were all on board with what he was thinking and he had yet to utter a word.

~~~

While you were gone, your three were left at home at the compound, and Anthony had never felt so alone, even with his brother and sister only a few feet away. He wanted so badly to connect with you, with someone, anyone at all who could soothe his mind, but he was trapped within it all by himself now. It was a cold and bitter feeling gnawing at his soul, and he wondered how long he would be able to stand it. He had never been alone like this in his entire life that he could remember, and he wondered, even hoped, that you were somewhere feeling the same just to give himself a warmth of consolation.

Brooklyn had immersed herself in anything that would keep her hands moving; she had changed the layout of her room at least five times on this day alone, a task that would normally take no more than a wave of her hand but now requiring time and a little help from her brothers to do. She had moved and rearranged several rows of books in the library with FRIDAY's help, but worried that if she had done too much, no one would find what they needed. She had now moved on to a puzzle that FRIDAY had guaranteed to be nearly impossible to complete, but she was almost done with that too. All that Brooke knew anymore was that she had to keep her hands moving before the stillness drove her mad.

Grant had never felt so cold in his life. His bones carried a chill within them that left his body aching, like a flu that he couldn't shake; no number of blankets could warm him, and he had spent much of the day in front of the large fireplace in the living room without moving even to eat. His brother and sister brought him what he needed, worried for his health despite their own struggles, and wishing that you were home to guide them. When he risked a moment of impulse, Grant burned his hand trying to touch the flames that would have never hurt him before, and the pain from it only made him sadder.

They all came to the same realization in one exchanged glance, one conversation that should have taken place long before this moment. They should have talked to you first.

~~~

A few hours later, after the team had returned and cleaned up, and after greeting your kids so that they could join you, everyone made their way to the conference room and sat around the table, uncharacteristically silent and withdrawn. You took your seat next to Steve, who sat at one end with Tony on the other, the two leads joined in a resolve that was made before this meeting came to be. Everyone knew what was coming, and no one argued it; no one had the energy or the desire to at this point.

Maybe it really was all too much; maybe the team had run its course and the family just wasn't strong enough. Maybe it was more about the fear of losing each other again for good, and to walk away willingly allowed you all to keep control of fate as best as you could. You had seen things that still haunted you, and things that you wanted to never see again, so turning your back now was the only way to move forward. Turning your backs on the world that still needed you was the only way to allow it to be worth saving again one day.

Maybe it was time to stop.