"You are so much like your mother, do you know that?"

"I'm aware, yes."

Esihle had joined Anthony while he prepared to leave for his top-secret mission, wanting to get more information that she had assumed she would be privy to given their re-ignited relationship, but he was being uncharacteristically tight lipped with her. It left her beyond frustrated and feeling the beginnings of fear unlike any she had felt in the countless battles she had fought at her king's side. This was different; this enveloped and paralyzed her. "Not only are you exactly like her, but you idolize your grandfather so much that it's impeding your rationality just like it does him. You're thinking emotionally, Anthony, and it will only cause you more pain."

Anthony continued to prepare his suit as he worked, securing the nanotech housing to his chest. It came to life with a comfortable and familiar glow, one that he found natural to wear but one that he knew you felt fear in seeing on him. His empathy for you couldn't interfere now, and for the first time in years, he blocked out your connection; he could only hope that you would be too busy to notice.

"I've had my share of pain, Esihle. We all have, but Mom and Dad have had more. If I can help them, then isn't that my responsibility? As both their son and as Iron Man?"

"Tony has taught you too well," she answered quietly, shaking her head, "and I fear that someday it's going to get you killed. Being selfless is honorable, but not at such a high price." She began to pace back and forth as she continued to watch, though refusing to help with so much as a zipper on the back of his jacket; she would be no part in a plan that she barely knew and already had so much displeasure for.

"Are you telling me that you wouldn't die for T'Challa? Isn't that your duty to protect him at all costs?"

"Yes, but he expects that of me," she argued, "and your parents do not. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Or your father? He lies in a hospital bed, falling ill more and more by the moment, and he has no idea that he may have seen you for the final time of his life. What would that do to him, Anthony?"

"I don't want to talk about my dad."

"Why not? He is the entire reason for you going out there. Why are you not afraid of what you are about to do, but it scares you to speak of him?"

"Because I have control over what I'm doing!" he snapped back with a glare that he didn't fully mean. She was taken aback at the sight and took a step away, only for him to return it in kind. "I...I'm sorry...it's just that...I feel so helpless, and this is the only thing that I can do. I know that it's going to be dangerous, and I'm ready for that. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him." He turned away from her and back to his work, zipping up the front of his coat until it stopped just below the casing on his chest. He considered leaving without saying anything more, but he couldn't leave her that way; he had lost too many years without her already.

"Anthony?"

"Hmm?"

"Anthony, look at me."

He finally stopped and turned to face her, really seeing her for the first time since the pair had come here to get him ready. Her eyes searched his for understanding, and looked into them with a love that he hadn't seen from her in years. For a split-second he felt guilty, and when he answered her he made the deliberate effort to touch her arm and soothe her worry. "Esihle," he spoke softly, "please trust me. I can do this. If I can't...if I get the sense that it's not going to work, I'll come back. I promise."

"You had better."

"I will," he smiled, "I have a lot to come home to. Will you be one of them?"

"My feelings for you have never wavered, Anthony. Even in all of our years apart, I have loved you."

"And I you."

Esihle dropped her gaze to her feet, but he wouldn't allow it. He took her chin gently, lifting her up to look at him again, so that she could see that he meant what he was saying; he also meant that he believed in what he was doing. He needed her support for what he was about to do, to know that the love of his life thus far was waiting for him, just as his parents had done for each other countless times before. "I will come home to you," he whispered, leaning down to meet her lips for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time, "if you will wait for me."

"I will," she answered breathlessly, "I have nowhere to be but where you need me. T'Challa has already left to return home and knows of my commitment to you here. I've taken leave of the Dora Milaje for as long as you want me at your side, Anthony."

Anthony dared a small, restrained smile, chuckling under his breath at the flash of ideas barraging his mind as he tried to clear them away and focus on only her. She was a beautiful, remarkable woman now, and for her to still carry love for him was a gift that he felt undeserving of. She was practically royalty, and he couldn't believe his fortune to have her looking back at him now with a love that rivaled what he had watched in you and his father. It was rare and one to be treasured, not to be released easily, and one to be protected beyond anything he would ever do in the suit from the first thruster fire as he would leave her.

"Esihle, I just might want you at my side forever."

~~~

It had taken Nick several hours to track down even the first clue as to where Coulson's team had been hiding, his connections in the underground community not nearly as strong as they had been in his prime SHIELD days. Back then, he could practically ask a question into the wind and get an answer back from any one of his hidden cohorts in the world around him. But now, connecting was a bit harder with SHIELD barely hanging on at best, but he did take solace in knowing that no matter who might turn their back on him, Coulson would never be one of them.

"I've got him," Nick called out to you across his apartment, "he gave me a rendezvous point that we need to be at in the next hour."

"It's the middle of the night."

"Do you want help or not?" he scoffed, his hand held out towards the door to his home office for you to join him. "Last chance, darlin'. I just called in one of my last favors for you, so don't waste it."

"Yes, I want help," you answered, now without hesitation at the risk of losing it.

Nick stayed steady and waited for you to pass by him, watching your every step. As he watched, he tried to fight the reminiscence; he tried to fight the memories of those years of training by his hand, even those days that still haunted him. He didn't regret them, however; at least not fully. His methods may not have been ideal, but he had taken pride in reigning in the angst of your youth and helping you to become the person you were today. Yes, Tony was your father, but Nick took you in when you wanted nothing to do with your family and instead, made him the only family you needed at the time. It was a bond that he still held on to, and he wanted to come through for you again.

This time, he would do it right.

"You used me, Nick," you finally spoke, feeling your floodgates opening in your mind, "when I didn't have anyone else but you. You told me that you would train me for SHIELD so that I could do good in the world for those who couldn't do for themselves. You told me that Tony would be proud of me if he knew. Then, when I let my guard down and trusted you, and when I thought that you were my friend, you towed the company line and to hell with me. You saw your opportunity and programmed me to kill Bucky because you weren't strong enough to do it yourself."

"(Y/N)-"

"No, you shut your mouth. I'm talking now," you hissed, rising to your feet. "I've heard your voice enough for one lifetime. Oh, wait! That's right! I forgot to mention, Dad," you paused, turning to Tony, "Nick had the brilliant idea to use your voice to break me out of assassin mode. Wasn't that just heartwarming? Isn't he just the most thoughtful bastard that ever lived?"

~~~

Bucky and Sam had been through their share of hard times as they raised their daughter; the sleepless nights, learning the ridiculous skill needed for diaper changing, a nearly serious allergy to bananas that almost put them in the hospital out of panic, the tears of kindergarten, and the argument about sending their girl to Xavier's that ended only when Wade promised that he would take care of her as if she were his own.

Those things were all fixable, and most of them to be expected during childhood. But this...this wasn't something that a sweet, innocent ten-year-old should have to deal with; the loss of her favorite uncle and godfather, who she looked up to for the hero he was, but also as her partner in crime. Becca and Steve had formed a bond unlike any of the other kids at the compound, each of them enjoying a penchant for troublemaking and the skills to pull off any prank they could conceive. But beyond those things, she just loved Steve, and to lose him was inconceivable.

"Auntie (Y/N) is gonna find a way, right?"

"We hope so, sweetheart," Sam answered with a nod, "but if she can't, then we need to be ready to be here for Uncle Steve, okay? He's having a rough time with the news, and he's gonna need us more than ever."

"We're all ready," the little girl agreed, looking to her dads with determination, "no matter what, he can count on us. Will and I talked about it, and we want to put off going back to Xavier's. I know I said that I wanted to go, but I can't learn if I'm worried about him. Is that okay?"

"Oh, honey, that's just fine," Bucky joined in, "you can take all the time that you need. I'm sure he would love to know that you two made that decision for him."

"Okay, good. Then we'll stay," Becca smiled for the first time.

Bucky and Sam exchanged knowing glances and fought back the emotions of it, feeling the shift in the atmosphere around them. They wanted to break down and let the moment in, but in true hero and fatherly fashion, they both held steady to keep brave faces for her benefit. They shared an amazing daughter who was so smart for her young age, but she was still only a kid, and they wouldn't let this derail her innocence or rob her of this time in her life.

"Hey, doll?" Bucky asked softly. "Why don't you go on upstairs and we'll be up in a few minutes. It's so far past your bedtime that it's almost time to wake up."

Becca simply nodded and gave them both a quick kiss on their cheeks and hurried up the stairs and towards the elevator to get to her room as fast as she could. Her body was exhausted but her mind wouldn't stop, and even she hoped that she'd be able to get a few hours of sleep. When the lift doors closed behind her and she could no longer see her parents, Bucky turned to Sam and grabbed his arm, his grip faltering.

"Sam...I couldn't..." he stammered quietly, "I couldn't let...let her...s-see..."

Much the same as with what had happened to Steve only hours before, Sam's grip couldn't hold, and he watched Bucky convulse with eyes rolled back, dropping like dead weight to the floor.