The sound of a ticking clock had never been so painful before, but as you stood next to Bucky on your right and Steve on your left, the two lying on a gurney in the compound's infirmary, you could barely focus on your thoughts over the banging in your head.

"Can someone kill that damn clock please?" you snapped, taking your seat. "I need to be able to focus on not knowing what the hell I'm doing."

"I've got you, hon," Sam jumped up from his seat on the other side of Bucky. He crossed the room as quick as he could to destroy the clock in question so that he could get back to his spot. "There. Killed it."

"Thanks," you muttered under your breath before holding it completely as Bruce and Helen approached with the first syringes ready to use. It was agreed that Steve and Bucky would take the solution at the same time, in the hopes that when you had to intervene it would somehow be easier on you to manage.

Bruce took the IV line and prepared to administer Tony's experimental last-chance effort, connecting the syringe and giving you a quick nod that the time had come. It felt like you had blinked and the past several weeks were gone, and you couldn't believe that this moment was a reality. "Here we go," he said quietly, watching Helen as they synchronized their work.

You took Steve's hand and then Bucky's and focused all of your energy on the two. You still had no guarantee that what you were trying to do was even the right thing, or really if you could make the connection work at all, but you had no other choice. You felt the surge of energy building in your chest and down your arms, finally into your hands with a fire that stung so fiercely that you nearly had to let them go. You closed your eyes as if it would keep these moments private in a room filled with terrified onlookers, but then the connection took hold, and you felt no one else in the room but the three of you.

Bruce caught the exact second it happened and turned to the group with a look of both regret and terror.

"Okay, no turning back now."

~~~

You didn't have to ask where Bucky was; you could hear him taking out his frustrations in the gym from two floors below. Steve had been missing for almost twelve hours and there was no sign of where he could be; no clues left behind, and the surveillance at the time of the explosion had been confiscated by whoever had masterminded it. You stood outside for a short time watching him, punching and kicking with incredible force that matched the anger building inside, but when he stopped and crumpled to the floor, you moved in next to him.

"Buck, it's okay," you whispered, holding him in your arms with his head resting on your shoulder, "we're going to find him. But hey, it's Steve. He might just walk through the door before we have a chance. God forbid he should allow someone to save him for a change, right?"

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"I'm not calm. I'm enraged. I'm terrified," you replied, closing your eyes in thought. "But I'm also very desperate, Buck. Those things when combined with desperation can only bring more problems than solutions, so I'm trying to keep in check. I'm just barely hanging on here."

You felt him nod against you and mumble something in Russian that you couldn't make out, even despite the lessons that he had given you at his own insistence. If he ever slipped into the soldier, he wanted someone on the team who he trusted implicitly to try to get into his mind, and he trusted you to be the one to do it.

"Hey, Frosty, you maybe should stop going all soldier on us, okay? You're scaring the other children."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), it just happens when I'm...um..."

"Scared?"

"Away from Steve too long."

~~~

They say that when someone is at the end of their life, the former years pass by in a blink, to recap the highs and lows alike, and to allow one last chance to revel and reflect in appreciation of the time lived. But it was something altogether different to watch the flashes of lives that weren't your own. Most of the memories that you were sharing with Steve and Bucky were of you with them, but then the occasional random moment would push its way in. The conversations of two young men arguing about enlisting, the first time that Bucky got Steve drunk and had to throw him over his shoulder to get him home, your husband confiding in his best friend about his fears about being a good father, and the one moment that had nearly made you pull back if you hadn't been in better control.

You watched Bucky fall from the train as if you were right there with them. You were flooded with Steve's pain and Bucky's fear, and your own inability to do anything left you awash in a cold panic. You could feel Steve's foot slip from the train's platform and how he nearly fell too, coupled with the regret he wore when he didn't. You felt the chill run through you as Bucky's battered body was dragged away in the snow, and the confusion and rage at his first sight of his new metal arm.

When you had agreed to do this for them, you had said that nothing could stop you, and that the choice was yours; this was the only moment out of all of it when you wished you had changed your mind.

~~~

"Alright, puffy, get in the back."

With a grumble you crawled out of the car and pushed your way into the back seat with only slightly more ease. "It's a good thing we don't have to go far. I might suffocate in tulle by the time we get there."

"Oh, yeah, about that..." He quickly shut the door before you could argue and ran around to the front, hopping into the driver's seat and pulling away from the church.

"What?" you asked skeptically. "What did you do, Steve?"

"No idea what you're talking about," he mumbled quietly, doing his best to appear as if watching the road took every ounce of his concentration so that he could avoid looking back at you. He took a long breath and exhaled heavily, and you began to worry that it was something serious. The car turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge and the pieces started to come together.

"Honey, you can tell me."

The change in mood within the vehicle had noticeably changed, but he was still doing his best to keep his spirits up despite the task he was about to undertake. "I just have a quick stop that I need to make. You can stay in the car if you want to, I'll understand."

With a silent nod of your head, you reached onto the floor and grabbed your bouquet, carefully pulling several flowers from the arrangement and laying them gently across your lap. "Not a chance."

The car slowly pulled into the cemetery and came to a halt towards the rear, in a shaded and remote section of headstones. Steve jumped out quickly to help you out, taking your hand and leading you as he looked at the ground for his target. "We didn't really have any money for proper markers, so they're a little harder to find..."

"Here?"

He stopped and followed your pointed hand, nodding in agreement that you had found his mother and father. "Hey, Ma. Dad," he began. "I...uh...I know that I haven't been here in a while, but I wanted you to meet (Y/N), you new daughter-in-law." Steve looked down at you and gave your hand a tight squeeze, making sure that you were okay in being here. When he said that he hadn't been there in a while, he meant it; it had been years. So many, in fact, that he didn't even know how many. He used to stop here daily when his mother died, but once the war started and then when he was awoken 70 years later, this became a rarity for him. "I think you guys would really like her," he continued, turning away to look down at the small stones buried in the ground, "she makes me happy, and I know that's all you wanted for me. I'm sorry that you weren't here to see us today."

The two of you stood quietly for a few minutes, he with his eyes closed and you watching him. When he finally opened them again, you knew he was ready; you knelt down and placed the flowers from your bouquet over his mother's name and quietly gave her your promise to take care of him until your last day.

~~~

Not every memory was bad, of course. Anthony's wedding the day before had left Steve in a good mood, all things considered, and his mind had stayed in that place for the most part. It made your job here easier, if that were actually possible given the circumstances. Bucky's memories were mostly those of his own family, with Sam and Becca and the appreciation for a life that he never expected to find, and it saddened you to see now that he truly never felt he deserved it. You weren't sure if you were going to retain these memories once this was all over, but if you did, you would be talking to him about this later.

There were so many happy moments between each of you that it made this time pass by in a second; in reality for the group around you, time was dragging on and each minute was filled with anticipation of the worst outcome. Tony was a complete wreck, as to be expected. Sam hadn't moved an inch since the syringe connected to Bucky's IV, and he wasn't about to move until this was done. It wasn't until Bruce's voice cut through the silence that he so much as looked away from his husband.

"Shuri, we're almost ready," he said. "I'm getting almost zero traces of Iridium. Tony, it looks like it's working."

"There must be absolutely none," she reminded him, taking a stand between your two soldiers. "If we don't neutralize it completely, this will do nothing."

Tony stood up and joined her, his eyes wide as he watched you, looking strangely peaceful in one of the tensest moments of his life. He had worked on this solution for days on end, putting himself through his own personal hell to do it, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. If this worked, it wouldn't matter the personal cost, just to know that the request you had made of him the night before would never be needed.

The monitors behind him drew him from his thoughts as they began to sound, a shrill piercing noise as vital signs began to change, and the last traces of the metal that stabilized their bodies had been removed. "Banner?"

"Now, Shuri," the doctor ordered, "their organs are starting to shut down. We need to move."

You felt the shift and it only energized you to hold on tighter. You had no idea if what you were doing was even helping, or if this were nothing more than a fancy light show before the inevitable. All you knew was that you had to try, because as each second passed, you were feeling two of the most important men in your life begin to die.

~~~

"Do you see Tony anywhere?" Steve asked cautiously, turning to look in every direction. "How about Schmidt?"

"No," you replied weakly, full of worry. "I hope he didn't do anything stupid."

"I think you've cornered the marked on that one today, (Y/N)," Bucky scoffed, pointing at his Winter Soldier uniform. "Dressing like the enemy isn't exactly a proven tactical choice."

"I'm improvising here, Buck, cut me some slack."

"Oh, sweet lord, what the hell are you doing?" Tony called out to you from above, lowering himself down to land the suit in front of you. "You guys look like shit in those costumes. Halloween is over, in case you missed it."

"What? You don't like the Hydra red?" you snickered. "Steve got these for us a few years ago."

Bucky snorted with a choked laugh and turned away, covering his mouth and trying to pull himself together, though under Steve's angry glare it was hard to do. "Savage, (Y/N), damn."

"I assume we're looking at Grant's work here?" Steve turned back towards the building to focus on what was happening, evading the topic all together. "Have you seen or heard from the kids?"

"No, nothing yet," Tony sighed, "but I had a text from Grant that said they were hiding. I don't think that's the case anymore."

"See, I told you that we should let them have their phones," you pointed at Steve before turning back to Tony. "Did you text him back?"

"Yeah, but no answer. He probably dropped it somewhere if they're on the run."

"Okay, let's get in there," Steve nodded, but stopped in front of you before reaching the building's steps. There was one more question that he needed answered before he took even one more step forward. "(Y/N), why did we wear these anyway?"

"Steve, don't be an idiot," Bucky interrupted, "there's three of them...and three of us. It's the last resort plan."

"No, there's no way in hell that I'll let you trade yourself to them," Tony argued, pushing in between you and Steve, "we'll get this done and never have to consider it, trust me. You tried this once and it didn't work."

"Because I ran, and didn't follow my orders, and look at where we are now. It's not your call, Dad. I'm sorry, but if it means that they can be free to live their lives without all of this, then not even you can stop me."

"Me either," Steve added readily now.

"Or me," Bucky joined in.

"We've all been there, Dad. We know what we're doing. If the three of us don't come out, then you take the kids and go. Promise me that you'll leave the team and take them away. Promise me that you'll keep them safe once and for all, especially from us."

~~~

Your three had been doing their best to stay back, given the extreme circumstances and their own personal fears of what they could be losing just on the other side of the infirmary doors. You and Steve had sat them down together and talked about this decision, and what it could mean for your family, and the unanimous agreement had been made that it was the right thing to try. None of them wanted to face the possibility of losing both of their parents at the same time, of course, but they also wouldn't be able to live with themselves if they had denied their dad the chance to make it through.

The trio normally were never this quiet, being so close throughout their entire lives, and it was awkward to each of them to feel like they had no idea what to say to each other. Anthony was almost immobile, sitting on one of the benches and appearing rigid, staring at the new platinum band on his left hand. It gave him something to focus on other than his worry, and it helped him to ignore the gaping hole in his heart where your connection to him had normally been.

Brooke was tapping incessantly on her phone with one hand, while the other barely moved and twirled a strand of her hair mindlessly without touching it. She was keeping her brain occupied and focused on absolutely anything else; she wouldn't even so much as look through the window, because her resolve would be broken and she didn't want to run away when her parents were counting on her for strength.

A small rush of wind and a bang across the hallway jolted each of them to attention, Brooke's phone bouncing across the floor as she dropped it at the sight of one of the chairs bursting into flames. "Jesus, Grant! Get your shit together!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he stammered, running for a fire extinguisher. "I'm sorry, I've got it! FRIDAY, I've got it don't use the alarms!"

The building stayed silent, as if the A.I. knew better already and how disruptive the alarms would be to what was going on in the infirmary. "Do you need assistance?"

"No, I'm good," he said again, hurrying with the extinguisher ready to stop his own blaze. "Man, I'm just so nervous, you guys. I haven't done something like this in forever. I swear, I usually do have my shit together, sis."

"It's okay, I think we're all out of sorts right now," she agreed. When he finished his work, Grant moved to take a seat next to her on the bench, sitting close enough so that they were touching as if it would give them a little extra comfort.

"So, you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Do I at least know the guy? Or do I have to kick someone's ass for knocking up my only sister?"

"Grant, I said, not now," she warned. "And no, you don't know him."

"Do Mom and Dad?"

"Grant, stop."

"Just tell me that, and I will," he agreed. "But we are gonna talk more about this later, right?"

Brooke took a long, restrained breath and closed her eyes, "yes, they know him, alright? I'm sorry that you don't, but you've been gone with the Four so long now that I can't keep track of what you do and don't know. You left and life went on, Grant, and I can't help that you feel like you're out of the loop because of it. Now, drop it. We have way more important things to focus on here." She had shut him down quickly and harshly, which she would apologize for later, but when she opened her eyes again to return her distraction to her phone, their grandfather opened the door to join them.

"Grandpa?" Anthony stood first. "Tell us good news."

Tony pushed his hands into his pockets and looked to each of them one by one, appreciating the sight and enjoying just a moment of pride and love for them. This had been the most trying day that he had been through in forever, and he felt that he deserved a few seconds to remind himself of what was really important in his life.

"Come in, guys," he finally answered, "we're done."