Barton Home, USA

Spring 2015

They were a mess. They were all a mess.

The only one who could almost be said to be fine was Barton, and even he'd been affected.

Sure, it was born out of concern for the rest of his teammates and out of sympathy for what they had gone through, but it had still shaken the archer. Having to see them all effectively torn apart? It'd be hard for the man not to be affected seeing them all like that.

Especially since he'd gone through something similar prior to New York at Loki's hands. It had to be bringing back some memories.

So yes. Barton was shaken too.

Even if it wasn't so monumentally so as the rest of them this time.

Well, not just Barton.

Nadine was mostly fine too.

Steve had to admit she'd seemed shaken as well. But, like Clint, it seemed borne out of worry for the rest of them rather than from coming into contact with Wanda Maximoff; affected second-hand, so to speak.

And, of course, by the constant fear for her daughter.

That had certainly not gone away or even lessened, if he was any judge.

If anything, it had gotten worse. Probably because Ultron now knew she was working with them. That had to be weighing on the blonde assassin.

God, it was weighing on him.

Part of him still couldn't believe she'd stayed. Nadine—the one who had slipped away the instant no one was watching on one occasion and had attempted it on others—had stayed to help Barton and Stark look out for the rest of the team.

Despite—as she kept reminding them—the fact that she wasn't actually an Avenger.

At first he suspected she had stayed solely for Nat's sake. After all, each was the other's self-professed sister and the closest thing to family they both had. There was no doubting that fact. Not since Nadine had come to Natasha for help.

Not since she'd spared Natasha's life in Prague regardless of the personal risk she took in doing so. With the skill the blonde had with that rifle of hers? There was no way she'd missed by accident.

But Steve couldn't help the feeling that it had since become more than just concern for Nat.

Nadine had helped all of them after Johannesburg.

The first really conscious thought he'd had as he'd emerged from the Maximoff girl's visions was of Nadine helping to guide him into the Quinjet. It was just a flash, but it was there; her gentle hand braced against his torso as she slipped from beneath his arm while Thor helped lower his sluggish body into the waiting seat, her voice low and soothing as it eased through his disorientated thoughts.

Then later she'd been checking on him, asking questions to gauge his lucidity and whether or not his mind was returning with his awareness, her touch comforting on his shoulder as she knelt next to him. And when he'd proven that he was again in control of his own mind, she'd updated him fully on the situation without censure—both on what happened to them, and what had happened to Banner—without him even needing to ask, somehow knowing that he'd needed to know. It was something he appreciated more than he could say.

He'd also seen her checking in with a rather agitated Thor, laying a similarly comforting hand on the Asgardian's arm as they waited for Tony to return with Bruce.

And it had been Nadine to jump up when the bruised billionaire and the battered scientist had returned, taking over settling Bruce in as Tony stepped out of his suit, taking a few moments to catch his breath and regain his composure as he did, once again disappearing behind his 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' persona. Fighting the Hulk, it seemed, had taken far more than a physical toll on the billionaire than Tony wanted to let on.

But then, Steve was intimately aware of the toll fighting one's best friend took...even when you knew rationally that the one you were fighting wasn't really your friend even if they wore their face...but also knowing that your friend was still trapped somewhere deep inside...

Or maybe Steve was just projecting.

Whether or not he was overestimating how Tony had taken his fight against Hulk, despite appearances to the contrary, Steve suspected the billionaire was just about as poorly off emotionally as the rest of them...save Bruce, of course.

The scientist was a wreck. By the time Stark had gotten him back the doctor had been nearly insensible with exhaustion, his skin greyed and coated in a sickly sheen. He'd been shaking so badly Steve had briefly feared he'd been seizing.

But Nadine had taken it in stride, gently guiding the doctor to the ground next to the central bank of seats even as Tony was passing on to Barton that they were good to go.

If Steve had ever doubted Nadine's claim that she was a mom, the way she handled Bruce would have been more than enough to dispel any such notion. There was a decidedly maternal air to the gentle yet firm way the blonde assassin handled the scientist. And the soothing, calm way she spoke? The way she made sure he drank the fluids Stark passed to her or the way she absently ensured the shock blanket was securely wrapped around him? Even the way she'd been careful to make sure he was steady against the bulkhead he'd been leaning against. It was more than just a keen bedside manner. It spoke to the kind of experience being a parent brought.

It hadn't been until she'd been satisfied Bruce was settled as he could be that she'd let him be, seeming to know he needed the space to be alone with his thoughts.

Similarly, there was definitely no doubt in his mind anymore that the Nadine and Natasha shared an incredibly close bond even after so many years apart. There really was no other way to term their relationship but as one shared by sisters. In the time he'd known her, Steve had never seen Natasha so comfortable with anyone, not even Barton, as she was with Nadine. And the way the blonde had just known the redhead needed her on the Quinjet like that? His compromised state nonwithstanding, Steve hadn't even been able to tell Natasha had been that close to falling apart, and he'd learned to read her better than just about anyone...save Barton, of course.

Steve never had a sister. Or siblings in general. Though really, Bucky had been a brother in all but name, he supposed. They'd been as close as Nadine and Natasha, once.

In that moment on the Quinjet, thinking of Bucky and watching how Nadine had supported Natasha when she needed it most, Steve had felt more alone than he had in a long time.

But it seemed he was rather destined for that, wasn't he...

That was the core of what the visions had shown him, after all, in showing him what he'd missed out on...

But that didn't stop part of him from longing for it anyway...for someone, something beyond the fight...someone to go home with after the fighting was done...

That was what was at the crux of it all.

Especially here, in this place, when confronted with Barton's wonderfully normal, happy family.

Not only was he left feeling particularly alone...but man, did he feel out of place.

What was it Ultron had said? He was 'pretending he could live without a war.' Even though it left an aching hole in his chest the size of a Helicarrier, he couldn't exactly deny it, either; there was some truth to the statement.

Steve was a soldier.

Without the fight, he had nothing. Not anymore.

More than that, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do anything else anymore.

He lived to defend, to fight to defend. To stand up when no one else would to do what was right. To protect as many as he could.

Was that wrong?

Was that why he was so painfully alone?

He'd known rationally that he was alone now in a way few could understand the minute he'd realized he'd woken up in a completely different century. Everything he'd known, everyone he'd known, had been gone. Yes, he'd found Peggy again, but she wasn't the Peggy he'd left behind. She'd lived an entire life while he'd been stuck in the ice.

And he'd been left behind.

So seeing Peggy in his vision like that? Young and vibrant again and waiting for their dance? Even knowing it was only in his mind? It hurt. A lot. Almost as much as the crushing loneliness the vision had left burrowed deep in his chest.

But what he really couldn't bear to dwell on was why seeing her again like that hurt the way it did.

When he looked at her, he still loved her. Especially when looking at the Peggy he remembered so vividly. But that wasn't quite it.

What hurt was to realize he wasn't in love with her any more.

It cut deep. And it hurt like Hell.

It was yet another tenuous tie to who he used to be and what he'd left behind that had been irrevocably cut. And he hadn't even realized it had happened. Not until the visions had confronted him with the realization.

He didn't know if that made it better or worse...

But he would deal with it. He would come to terms with it. He didn't have a choice. He couldn't let himself dwell on it. It just wasn't in his nature. If he wasn't destined to have a home or a family the way he'd once dreamed, well, it was what it was. He would just have to move on. He'd find purpose in what he had, what he knew. He'd learn to live with the loneliness. He didn't quite know how just now, not with his emotions still swirling in a chaotic jumble, but he would persevere and figure it out. That's what those in his generation did, and he wasn't about to do any different even if he was a man out of time...a man still learning to live in the century he'd been dropped into.

But right now, what he did know was that Stark was well on his way to getting on his last nerve.

As cathartic as chopping wood for the Bartons was proving, the effect was being somewhat dulled the more Tony spoke. He'd learned to keep Tony from getting under his skin...normally. Normally, Steve was perfectly capable of brushing off the billionaire's irreverent attitude, knowing full well that the billionaire was not always the most tactful, but usually meant well.

But right now? Steve was still far too unsettled. Far too on edge. The things Tony was saying were just getting to him today, wearing on his frayed patience and making him short with the other man.

"Seems like you walked away alright," the billionaire said with a casual but pointed tone in response to Steve's observation that the Maximoff girl had torn them apart so easily. Steve inhaled deeply, reining in his reaction as he straightened from setting up another log to look at Tony. On some level he supposed it was true. Yes, he'd managed to pull himself back together quicker than the others. He wasn't about to deny that. Natasha was still off...Thor obviously still hadn't returned. Banner? No question. But that didn't mean he wasn't still privately reeling. He just wasn't letting himself show it. What would the point be?

"Is that a problem?" Steve questioned, unable to help but feel defensive—Tony had no idea what he'd seen in his visions, so who was he to judge. Just because he didn't show it as much as Banner or Nat, didn't mean his dream hadn't torn him up inside. Perhaps he was just better able to push past it. To work around it. To let his sense of duty and purpose overshadow his personal feelings.

His sense of purpose was all he had left, after all...

Maybe what he had seen actually hadn't been as bad as what the others had seen. Or maybe it was just a different kind of pain he was battling past, one that he could still function with even as it lingered like a quiet shadow in the back of his mind instead of consuming him completely for a short time. He didn't know. Either possibility was entirely plausible considering some of the bleak, dark secrets he knew and suspected some of his teammates hid. Part of him had been surprised his own hadn't been worse...especially considering some of the nasty stuff he'd seen during the War. But then...his was something that would stay with him, eat at him...had already been eating at him.

Perhaps the Maximoff girl had known that making him face his deepest, most selfish regrets would be far worse for him than making him relive even his more violent, darker memories...

Well, she wasn't wrong.

There was a reason his subconscious had buried those regrets away, after all.

He didn't know what nightmares and horrors the others had been shown. But to have Tony seemingly doubt that he'd been affected? For him, it had been plenty bad enough, and whether the billionaire could see it or not, Steve was still struggling with what he'd seen. He would every time everyone else went home.

He just hid it better, he supposed.

"I don't trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old-fashioned." Steve's jaw clenched as Tony split another log.

"Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet," Steve couldn't help but challenge. Tony set down his axe, eying the Captain thoughtfully as he stepped around the wide log he'd been splitting the others on.

"You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?" Steve's temper was quickly wearing thin, which was nearly a novelty in and of itself. He usually prided himself on his patience. It was short enough that he had little desire to keep his bitter thoughts to himself. The axe handle creaked in his hands.

"Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question." The log in front of him split with an angry crack. Just as he knew it would, he knew he'd hit the mark when Tony tensed, his voice growing just as defensive and threaded with anger as Steve's was. Steve planted his axe in the log he was using for splitting as he reached for another piece of wood.

"Banner and I were doing research."

"That would affect the team."

"That would end the team. Isn't that the mission?" Steve bristled at Tony's declaration, his jaw clenching angrily as he grabbed up another log; all the more reason why Stark should have talked to the rest of the team. "Isn't that the "why" we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?"

The log in Steve's hands ripped clean in two with a crack as his temper snapped. Though he didn't realize it, Tony had hit too close to the mark; the hypersensitive mark Steve had been fighting to bury away.

He had no home to go to.

But that was beside the point, even if right now it was the loudest point racing through his thoughts. He turned back to Tony, forcing his temper back under some semblance of control, forcing himself to focus on the second loudest thought running angrily through his mind in response to Stark's comment.

"Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time." Stark had nothing to say to that. Argumentative as he often was, he knew Steve was right. But there was a cast to the billionaire's expression that said he suspected there was more to Steve's reaction than the Captain was trying to let on.

Mercifully, it was that moment that Laura Barton chose to approach, asking for Tony's help in getting their tractor running.

Steve said nothing as the billionaire walked away.

He had nothing more to say to him right then.

Not that he could have even if he'd wanted to. Right then his chest was clenched far too tight as he struggled to tamp his emotions back under control...again.

What was it about that man? As close as friend as Steve had begun to consider him, Tony certainly had a talent for getting under his skin. It was moments like this when he missed how Howard never needled him like his son managed to.

Only to sigh as the familiar, aching wave of nostalgia threatened to distract him again. He grabbed up another log.

It too split with a satisfying crack. As did the log that followed. One after the other, he continued to work his way through the pile, forcing himself to ignore the happy sounds of Barton and his son working on the porch a couple dozen yards away.

Steve has been stunned to realize the archer had a family. Though really, in hindsight, he also supposed he shouldn't have been. Now that he knew about Laura and the kids, it just sort of made sense knowing Barton as he did. Not that he knew Clint as well as he'd thought, apparently.

But as disappointed as he was that Barton hadn't trusted him with his secret—or anyone else, save Natasha—he also understood why.

It had all been to protect them. And Steve couldn't fault him for that.

Really, Nadine's situation had made Barton's reasons for keeping his family a secret that much clearer. The secret of her daughter's existence had been leaked and because of who her mom was, Nina had been taken.

And they still hadn't gotten her back like they'd promised.

Steve sighed heavily. He didn't have enough wood left to muddle through that mire of guilt. Not when it was also partially their fault that Nina had been left defenceless.

Simply put, it was a mess.

Another log split beneath his swing with a dull crack.    

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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