Author's notes: Sorry it's late. Holidays and winter depression, yo.

.

I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart
that's barely beating

In the pain
There is healing
In your name
I find meaning
So I'm holding on,
Barely holding on to you

-Lifehouse, "Broken"

All of Me

Chapter Five: Falling Apart

Steve immediately jerked back from the iron grip, but the metal hand held tight.

"Buck," he managed to choke out. "It's me. Let go."

Bucky's face, though it had been as soulless stone a moment before, was now horrified and panicked. "I—I can't!" He grabbed his metal wrist with his flesh hand, trying to pull it free. "I can't make the arm move."

By now, Marcy was wide awake and staring at the surreal scene before her. The blue light from the TV screen vaguely highlighted the forms of the two struggling men, but it was hard to make out what was going on. She reached over and switched on a nearby lamp.

Steve's face was turning redish purple from lack of air. He was trying to pry off the metal fingers still constricting his windpipe. Bucky, too, was struggling to take back his arm.

"What's wrong with it?" Marcy demanded. "Is the hand stuck? Are the fingers locked?"

"The hand is working," Bucky grunted, "but it's squeezing harder and I'm not doing it. It's like it has a mind of its own!"

Unsure of what else to do, Marcy scrambled over to Bucky's arm. Despite what he said, she figured there had to be some sort of malfunction. She touched the metal arm in order to inspect it and Bucky's hold immediately let go. Steve stumbled back, gasping for air. Marcy moved forward to inspect his bruised neck when Bucky grabbed her wrist. She glanced down at the metal hand keeping her in place. So did Bucky, still wide-eyed and startled.

"I'm not doing this, I swear!" he insisted.

Marcy tried to pull of out his grip, both of them momentarily concerned she would be attacked next. The Winter Soldier's metal arm only held her firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.

Marcy thought for a moment and then said to Bucky, "Sit down on the couch and scoot over, all the way to the right."

He did so and Marcy was pulled with him. She sat down next to Bucky, his metal hand still holding her wrist, and then motioned for Steve to join her on the other side.

"Are you okay?" she asked as Steve coughed as he sat. The normal color was starting to come back to his face, but his neck was still bright red. With her free hand she touched the clear finger imprints on his skin.

"I'll... be fine..." Steve rasped. "I just want to know what happened."

"I don't even know what happened!" Bucky exclaimed. "I wasn't even fully awake and this arm just... suddenly attacked!"

"No, you were completely awake," Steve insisted. "I saw your eyes look right at me."

"I don't remember that."

Marcy still had her attention on Steve and his poor neck as she spoke. "Were you in the middle of another dream?" She then made a sound of sympathy for Steve and reached up to kiss the bruised flesh. That was when she felt the metal arm holding her now tugging her back. Again, it wasn't strong enough to hurt, but the metal arm had no trouble pulling her away from Steve.

"Umm..."

"See? This is what I'm talking out," Bucky said as his metal arm practically pulled her across his lap. "I am not doing this. I have no control of this stupid arm. It's doing that on its own."

Steve furrowed his brows. He didn't like Bucky dragging Marcy around like that, even if she wasn't getting hurt. It didn't mean it wouldn't hurt her eventually. "Bucky, let go of her."

"I'd like to, Steve. I really would." The worst part was that Bucky could feel the rest of his body wanting to react with the arm as if it had a second brain. Bucky's body, however, was under his control and wasn't going to move unless he agreed to it.

"Okay, let's try something else," Marcy announced. "Stand up with me." Bucky stood with her toe to toe as Marcy inspected the hand on her wrist. "Okay, now let go," she said, tapping on the fingers. "I'm not going anywhere, but I need you to let go." It was as if she was addressing the arm itself. And it seemed to work. The hand loosened, sliding down her hand to grip her fingers for a moment and then fell to Bucky's side.

Bucky raised his metal arm, bending it up and down and then clenching and unclenching his fist. He seemed to have regained control. "Well, that was weird. I'm sorry Steve. I don't know why that happened."

Steve frowned in concern.

"He was doing so well while you were gone," Marcy insisted. "Not a single incident. He was sleeping normal and everything-" She jerked back when Bucky's metal hand pressed its palm against her cheek.

This time, Bucky slapped it away with a "Stop that!"

Steve made a motion for Marcy to quickly come over to his side of the room and she did. Steve then stood between them.

"Just go to bed, I'm going to stay out here," Bucky said, waving them both to move away from him. "Maybe sleep on the couch." He rubbed his face tiredly.

"That sounds like a good idea," Steve agreed. He looked to Marcy as if she were going to challenge that decision. She made no protest. If the boys were fine with it, she was fine with it. She retired to her bedroom with Steve protectively bringing up the rear. He shut the door behind them and then locked it as an afterthought.

Marcy thought that was a bit unnecessary, but didn't bring it up as she changed out of her sweats and into something lighter for bed. Steve just kicked off his jeans and was already under the sheets before she climbed in. By the light of the bedside lamp, he pulled her up so she was resting on his chest. The two held each others' gaze.

"Your eyes are different," Steve said as he cupped her face.

"Less blue?" she asked casually, and he made a noise of agreement. "Yeah. But the blue's going to come back now that you're home again."

He blinked at her, wondering if he had heard right. Fatigue was setting in as it had been a few days since he had gotten a good amount of sleep. "What does that mean?"

"Apparently, the working theory is that my cells have learned to copy special attributes from other cells they've come in contact with. As in, my increased strength and the blue eyes come from prolonged exposure to you, Steve Rogers. While you were gone, they began to fade. And now that you're back, I guess I'm going to start getting super hungry again."

Steve blinked at her a few more times. "Is that really what's happening?"

"Possibly."

He leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. His fingers idly slid up the back of her shirt and traced the dip of her spine.

"Does that worry you?" Marcy asked.

"I just wonder if this was what that serum was supposed to do to you. And if this is what happens when you touch me, what if you touched someone with actual powers?"

"You mean like Wanda or Vision?"

Steve didn't open his eyes. He breathed out loudly through his nose; a sound that wasn't happy.

Marcy kissed his chin. "Don't worry, I don't plan on any prolonged physical exposure to anyone but you."

That statement earned her a chuckle and she loved feeling the vibration of it through his chest. As she lay there, a stray thought wandered in.

"Actually, I think it already happened once. It was the day I was injected; when Bruce saved me from the crashing ship. I had a cut on my cheek and after Bruce—the Hulk—put me down, the cut was healed. I remember looking at my hands and thinking my skin looked a little green for a moment, then it went back to normal. Probably because the two of us weren't touching anymore. But we were only in physical contact for a matter of minutes. So maybe the greater the power of the other person, the shorter the time it takes me—takes my cells to learn to mimic... whatever it is they want to mimic, I guess? I don't know.

"Too bad Bruce isn't here to help with that theory. And honestly, I'm not really keen on trying it with Wanda or Vision. I'm a little afraid of what would happen." She sighed. "It's just going to have to remain guess work for now, I suppose."

The room was silent. Steve's hands had stopped wandering her back a while ago and he gave no feedback.

"Steve?" Marcy looked up.

His eyes were closed, his breaths slow and even. He had fallen asleep. Marcy was a little irritated at first. This was kind of important. But she also had to remind herself he was probably exhausted before he even made it back into the country and then he still drove the extra hour to get here. He was forgiven this time.

She affectionately brushed a few strands of blond hair from his forehead and then reached over to turn off the lamp.

.

The next morning, Steve was uncharacteristically still asleep. He must have really been tired. No doubt that trip to Lagos was rough on everyone who went. They were probably all still sleeping.

When Marcy walked into the kitchen with stockinged feet, Bucky was sitting at the table. He was still in his sweats from the evening before and staring in the middle distance over a cooling cup of coffee. (Bucky went out and bought his own coffee maker when he found out Marcy didn't own one. He, too, was now addicted to her particular brand just like Tony.) Marcy paused behind him, watching the back of his head.

"You didn't go back to bed last night, did you?" she asked softly.

He made a low grumble and shook his head.

"How's the... arm?"

This question caused him to glance back at her for a moment. Then he looked at his metal hand, clenching his fist and then wiggling the fingers. "Seems normal so far."

Marcy sat in the seat next to him and held out her hand. He paused before hesitantly putting his hand, palm up, on top of hers. She ran her fingers over the metal palm and his fingers twitched. "Do you think it was maybe a glitch? When was the last time you had someone look at it?"

"Never," he chuffed out. "I don't really... like it when people go digging around in there."

She patted the arm slightly above the wrist. "Maybe we can get Tony Stark to look at it, just to see if everything is working correctly."

Bucky's brows furrowed in silent concern. He didn't say anything.

She smiled at him. "It will be okay. You're with people who care about you. It's different this time."

Again, he said nothing. She gave his arm one more friendly pat and then stood to leave. She only made it a single step before a hand on her shirt prevented her from moving. Glancing back, she found Bucky's metal hand holding the back of her shirt in its fist as if it didn't want her to leave.

"You okay?" she asked.

Bucky glanced backward as if he wasn't aware of what his arm was doing. But then his hand let go. "Yeah," he said gruffly and turned back around. "Sorry."

Marcy wasn't sure if that was on purpose or if the arm was once more acting on its own. Bucky seemed to be folding in on himself again. She decided she would wait until Steve woke up so they could all discuss it together as she looked for the waffle iron. Who knew when Steve had eaten his last real meal. She wanted to make sure he had something substantial for breakfast.

It was nearly forty minutes later before Steve finally showed his face. He still looked a bit tired and worn as Marcy gave him a warm welcome.

"Sleep okay?" she asked as she reached up to kiss his chin. His arms encircled her, pressing her against his rock hard chest.

"Best sleep I've had in a while," he murmured, resting his brow against hers. "Sorry I passed out on you last night." He breathed her in and then let it out slowly. "It's so good to be back home with you."

She grinned into his shirt, feeling warm all over. She liked that he referred to her place as home; that he felt safe and comfortable here. They held each other for a moment until they heard Bucky step back into the dinning area. Just as Steve let go and turned around, a metal fist flew toward him. He immediately caught it before it collided with his face.

There was a moment of wide-eyed silence between all three of them.

"Steve... I did not mean to do that," Bucky floundered.

"You didn't mean to try to punch my lights out?" he challenged.

"It's not me, it's the arm!"

"The arm wants to punch me."

"...Yes." Bucky said with a frown. "I don't know why."

Steve's temper flared. "You don't know WHY?! What are you talking about? What is going on?"

Bucky glared at him, both his fists clenching now.

"Okay boys, get some space and breathe for a moment," Marcy said, stepping between them. "We can figure this out. There has to be an explanation. Steve, you don't honestly believe James wants to hurt you."

Steve turned around, gaining some space from the other soldier. He ran a hand through his hair as he paced the room.

"Steve, you know I wouldn't be doing this as a joke," Bucky insisted. "I already have so many things wrong with me, you think I want one more?"

This softened Steve's agitation a little. "No." He paced a little more and then came back to them. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"Sick of me coming after your life?" Bucky finished with a self-depreciating smile. "Me, too. Trust me."

"And no one's really gotten hurt yet, right?" Marcy cut in, eager for the two not to be cross with each other.

Steve suddenly gave his best friend a look, not liking how close Marcy was to that metal arm. The arm that Bucky claimed was attacking of its own accord.. "Going after me is one thing. If you end up hurting Marcy with that stupid arm, even on accident, I'll kill you."

Bucky glanced over at at Marcy's surprised face, then looked back at Steve in all seriousness. "If I ever let that happen, I'll kill myself."

Both soldiers were now looking at her with heat in their expressions. It was too intense; they were standing too close. Marcy's face flushed and she found herself taking a step back. When her retreat was blocked off by the counter ledge in her back, she closed her eyes and faded, disappearing from their sight.

The guys gawked at the space where she used to be. She faded in front of them so seldom, it was easy to forget she had the ability. The two looked at each other again and wordlessly agreed to calm it down for now.

"Marce, it's okay," Steve said in a softer tone. "We're not fighting anymore. I'm not mad, I'm just frustrated and scared."

"I'm scared, too," Bucky added, even softer. He did not like admitting it. "I don't know what's going on. But I didn't mean to scare you, too."

"I'm not scared," Marcy's indignant voice announced. She appeared, not where she had been standing before, but off to the side, near the entrance way to the living room. "You guys were just... really close in my face and it was like..." Her face flushed again and she tried to shake it. "I'm not afraid of either of you, no matter what's happening or how much you fight."

Bucky glanced from the place she was before she faded to the place where she now stood. "Are you sure you don't also have the power to teleport, Doll-"

Marcy gave him a look.

Bucky quickly cut himself off with a curse. It was going to be difficult to kick that habit.

They all looked at each other for a moment.

"Okay," Steve announced with a sigh. "So, what do we do about this?"

.

Dr. Adams sat in his chair, looking at the three people in a row on his couch. Marcy was in the middle with a super soldier on either side. The therapist chewed a little on the end of his pen and they explained the situation as best as they could. Bucky was visibly sullen and suspicious about being in the therapist's office after the session the day before, but he still gave information as he was asked.

"So, the arm has only attacked Captain Rogers, correct?" Adams clarified. "It hasn't gone after anyone else? Not Agent Gray at all?"

"Not yet," Steve said with a frown.

"I think it... likes her," Bucky ventured. "If it's possible for a metal arm to like somebody." Currently, said arm sat in Marcy's lap where she gripped the hand with one of hers while patting the arm with another. It was partially to keep the arm from moving, but also as a gesture of comfort.

"The arm can't want anything," Dr. Adams said. "The arm is a part of you. This is a subconscious part of you trying to send a message."

Marcy looked at Steve's glare and cracked up. "Steve's so mad! I'm sorry. I shouldn't find this funny." She bumped her boyfriend's shoulder, hoping it would get him to soften a little. It only slightly had the desired effect.

"Agent Gray, would you mind leaving the room for a moment?" Adams asked pragmatically.

She stiffened as if she were in trouble for laughing.

"I want to see what happens when you're not around."

"Okay," Marcy agreed. "I'll be just outside the door."

When she left, the door closed behind her, Dr. Adams told the two soldiers to stand together facing one another. Both eyed the other, but nothing happened.

"I don't feel anything," Bucky said in confusion. "Everything is back to normal."

"Because Agent Gray isn't here?" Adams ventured.

"That doesn't make sense," Steve said. "What does she have to do with it?"

"Think of it this way: Bucky's last mission as the Winter Soldier was to kill you, Captain Rogers. You were the enemy. The first mission Bucky gave to himself was to save Agent Gray from the enemy."

"I'm... trying to save her from Steve?" Bucky asked, confused.

"Tell me, how exactly do you feel about Agent Gray?" Adams suddenly asked.

Bucky balked at the question, his face going pale, then a bit of a flush hitting his cheeks. "I like her just fine, but not how you're trying to make it sound. She's my friend. Of course I would try to keep her safe if there was something that was a threat to her. I feel the same way about Steve. If you're trying to spin this as some sort of jealousy thing, I'm walking out that door."

"Calm down, Bucky, I'm not trying to insinuate anything. I'm merely visiting all the avenues of thought. We can't rule out any possibility just yet."

Bucky continued to bristle. "You should rule it out because I said you should rule it out. And you know what? It's Sargent Barnes to you now, Doc. Especially after what you did to me yesterday."

"Wait? What did he do?" Steve asked. They hadn't had the time or opportunity to fill Steve in on Bucky's hypnotherapy session from the day before.

"More than he should have." Bucky glared, his anger clear and still rising.

"Remembering the things you were forced to do in the past and dealing with that should be part of your recovery," Dr. Adams insisted calmly. "You can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm not trying to!" Bucky exclaimed. His frustration began to take a dangerous tone. "I'm not trying to excuse what I did! I'm not trying to pretend it wasn't me who pulled the trigger all those times! I just don't want to be forced to remember the nightmare of being trapped in a body, in a mind, that isn't my own! Why couldn't you let me have that?"

Marcy opened the door and stepped in without invitation. "I could hear you guys yelling. Is everyone okay?"

"It's fine, Marce," Steve said, though concern kept his voice tight.

"No!" Bucky protested. "It's not fine and I am not okay! And I'm never going to be okay! Every part of me is broken. All the pieces have been ripped out and forced into the wrong places. Now everything I am is just one big malfunction." He looked at his metal arm. "Just like this."

"It's okay, though." Marcy's soft voice cut through the desperate tension in the room. "It's okay if you're broken, you still have us. Steve and I aren't going anywhere. You can take all the time you need to get those parts working again. Even if there's some parts that will never be fixed, we're still not leaving you, right?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He was fighting to keep his face neutral, though his eyes watered and he had to look away. Marcy wanted to hug him, but given the odd dynamics growing between the three of them, she felt it was not appropriate. Steve did it for her, suddenly grabbing Bucky up into a large embrace. Bucky eventually hugged his best friend back, with both arms.

"Alright, come on. We're going home," Marcy announced.

This session isn't finished yet," Dr. Adams reminded.

"Yes, it is," Marcy insisted. "I shouldn't have let him come back here with the state he was in yesterday after leaving your office." She motioned both soldiers forward. "Come on, boys, we're going home."

Bucky immediately walked toward her, not even thinking about it.

"Wait." Steve remained where he was. "I don't think it's a good idea to leave now."

"Why? What happened when I wasn't in the room?" Marcy then asked. "Besides James yelling at the doctor?"

"Everything was normal," Dr. Adams said, completely calm and not at all offended by Bucky's irritation at him. "I posed as a theory to the two of them: as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's last order from Hyrda was to kill Captain Rogers. But when he chose to give himself a mission, he chose to save your life. Now the two orders are battling for control in his subconscious."

Marcy mulled that over in her head for a moment. "So... you're saying his actions have been protective... of me, in a weird way." She glanced at Bucky, who wouldn't meet her gaze as he folded his arms self-consciously across his chest.

"Yes," Dr. Adams confirmed.

"I can work with that. I'm taking you both home."

"But we didn't finish what we came here for," Steve countered. "Bucky's still..." He gestured at his friend.

"We came here because you were worried Bucky would hurt me. You don't worry about him taking a random swing at you. If you trust the doctor's theory to be correct, I'm currently the safest one out of the three of us."

Steve met her gaze, stubbornness on his face. She didn't reflect the same expression. She was convinced of her argument, but open to hear him. Steve looked over at Bucky who was eyeing the door, itching to get out of this place. He had forgotten that Bucky had experienced a troubling session the day before. There had never been time to get the whole story of what happened. Maybe he did need some time to be away from here and figure things out before any of them went back to the therapist.

"Okay." Steve glanced back at Dr. Adams who continued to observe from his seat. "Thank you for seeing us. I think we're going home for now. But we'll be in touch, if that's alright."

Dr. Adams nodded, not at all irritated with the session cut short. This was the first time meeting Agent Gray, though he had heard about her since his first session with Sargent Barnes. Her pragmatic way of dealing with the situation was interesting, as was the dynamic of seeing all three of them interact together. He hoped they would come back again and he was curious to see what sort of headway they would make with this situation.

"That's fine. Please feel free to call me whenever you have need."

Bucky actually made a huffing sound as he immediately let himself out. Marcy was the next to leave, motioning to Steve to do the same. The captain looked back at Dr. Adams, who said nothing else. So Steve followed the other two out the door.

.

In the car on the way home, Steve fully meant to hear all about Bucky's session the day before. He expected it would give him better insight as to exactly why this sudden change had occurred. However, his cell phone pinged before he could start asking questions.

Steve sighed audibly from the passenger seat as he looked at his phone.

"Everything okay?" Marcy asked as she drove.

"It's Tony. He wants me down at the compound for some kind of meeting."

"Should we all just go? We're already in the car. We could have Tony look at that arm while we're out there."

"For some reason, this meeting involves the Secretary of State."

"I should probably not be there, then," Bucky said from the back seat.

Marcy glanced at him though the rear view mirror. "I would rather not go then either. Is that okay, Steve, if we both stay home?"

The captain thought about it seriously for several moments. What she was asking was did he feel confident she would be safe left alone with Bucky. Dr. Adams' new theory did make sense. Bucky had not caused any harm or concern to Marcy while Steve was in Lagos. Why would this be any different when it was Steve himself who had been the only target of the metal arm's aggression?

"Yeah, that should be fine. I'll come back home as soon as I can."

.

Steve regretted going to this meeting with Tony, the other Avengers, and the Secretary of State. The heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach began when Secretary Ross first mentioned "perspective." Then he treated them all to footage of great destruction—destruction that had happened on their watch while they were trying to save the world from things like an alien invasion or the destruction of all mankind from a misguided AI with a robot army and plans to devastate the entire planet.

Of course, there was also plenty of footage from Lagos, the wound that was still fresh for those present. Steve could feel Wanda's shame and heartache from across the meeting table. Ross didn't let up as he immediately produced a ridiculously large manuscript called the Sokovia Accords and gave them all a mere three days to decide to agree to it with an ultimatum to sign or "retire", as he put it.

Afterwards, he immediately paraded off to let the Avengers stew in their conflicting feelings after he had so suddenly turned their world upside down.

Then the arguing started. Sam and Rhodes were the loudest at first, going at it against each other, clearly on opposite sides of the argument. As the accords were passed around to review, everyone else put in their opinion. Vision being insightful, but somewhat neutral to both the accords and the situation. Natasha was willing to consider it, while Clint was not. Which got the two of them going at it. Wanda said nothing. Steve didn't either, not until Tony stood upon his soap box to preach about the accords.

"We need to be put in check," was Tony's argument.

"If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose," Steve countered.

"Look, if we don't do this now," Tony said to the room, "it will be done to us later. That's a fact and it won't be pretty."

"You're saying they'll come for me," Wanda finally spoke.

"They'll come for all of us," Clint said.

"You know, Agent Gray told me they would," Vision said thoughtfully, causing Steve to glance up from where he was staring hard at the tabletop. "'They will come for us in little ways' she told me. Checks and balances, vague accords. 'Clever traps' she called them."

Steve was about to say something when his phone buzzed. There were only two simple sentences in the text: She's gone. In her sleep.

Everything inside him suddenly went dead and nothing mattered anymore.

"I have to go," Steve suddenly announced. He stood and walked directly out of the room, the other Avengers watching after him in surprise.

Steve disappeared after that. He was not in the compound and, that night, he did not come home.

.

It was early in the morning, the gray of twilight still washing out all other color in the world, when Steve stepped into the house. He found Bucky at the table, staring out the door to the backyard, a cooled cup of coffee before him.

"Did you sleep at all?" Steve asked in a low voice, sitting next to him.

"Not really. Just pretended I did so Marcy would go to bed."

Steve nodded. With a large sigh, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"I take it you didn't get much sleep either," Bucky guessed.

"No," he replied. Then, after a long pause, "Peggy passed away. She's gone, Buck."

"Steve... I'm sorry. I know she meant a lot to you. I know you loved her. If there's anything I can do..."

He sighed again. "There's nothing to be done. She lived her life and it was her time to go."

"But that didn't stop you from driving around all night long, feeling sorry," Bucky said knowingly.

"I suppose not."

"Will this change anything between you and Marcy?"

Steve suddenly felt the bitterness of the entire night, and even the day before, roil inside him. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Bucky shot his friend a look. "Steve, come on. Are you really asking me that?"

He rubbed his face. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just... angry and tired. It hurts and I don't know what to do about it."

The two sat in silence for several minutes until Bucky spoke. "I never would have saved her if it wasn't for you, Steve."

He raised his head. "What do you mean?"

"I was hiding at that Hydra compound in the mountains. When they brought Marcy in, I went through her things, trying to find out who she was. She had a picture of you and her. From karaoke, she said."

Despite his sadness, Steve smiled a little at that.

"Did you love her then, Steve?"

"I was beginning to."

"Then don't shut her out because of this." Bucky stared hard at his coffee, fingering the cup. "Marcy thinks I'm her savior because of that place. The truth is, I let them hurt her and slice her up for days before I did anything. I was too scared to reveal myself. It was only when they were about to cut her damn skull open that I finally-"

"Buck, stop," Steve said with pain. He closed his eyes against the mental image.

Bucky didn't stop. "You wouldn't have let it get that far. You never would have let them touch her. That's why you have to be the one in her life, Steve. You always make the right decisions, not me. You keep her safe. I have this feeling that if you left, if it was just her and me, I would somehow get her killed. Don't leave her with me, Steve."

Steve stared at him for a while, his brows drawn in concern. "You make it sound like you could never walk away on your own."

"I... honestly don't know if I could. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could go. I need her. No matter how broken I feel, no matter how much I make things worse, she always looks at me like I'm still a person. She has this way of telling me exactly what I need to hear so I can make it one more day."

Steve looked at his best friend and his heart hurt. He had no idea it was like that for Bucky.

Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper. "Without that, I feel like I would just fall apart until there was nothing left of me." He added in an ever softer voice. "I'm sorry."

Steve was about to say something when they heard sounds of movement coming from down the hall. A few moments later, Marcy walked into the kitchen in a pair of shorts and one of Steve's sweaters.

"Hey, I thought I heard male voices in here." She paused when she read the somber temperature of the room. Both soldiers were suspiciously interested in the tabletop. Bucky's metal forefinger scratched in agitation at the table's surface."I'm guessing neither one of you got much sleep last night." When neither responded she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"I have to go to a funeral in London," Steve said. "Would both of you like to come?"

.

The flight to London was good for the three of them. With the lack of sleep on the part of the other two, Marcy flew the Quinjet while the soldiers napped and talked. Bucky told Steve about his session with Dr. Adams, about how he now remembered many more parts of his life as the Winter Soldier when they had previously been cut from his recollection. The memories were often vague and choppy from multiple sessions of mind wipes, but they were there. And Bucky was still trying to come to terms with it all.

The next item to discuss was the Sokovia Accords, which clearly scared both Marcy and Bucky when they heard about it. Neither one liked the new legislation at all. It made Steve feel better about his own decision to not become a part of it.

Once those items had been covered, there was still time to talk about Peggy, the reason for the trip. The two soldiers reminisced about Margaret Carter and their time where they were all together. Despite the fact that a war was going on, they made it sound like a time of youth and innocence when everything was better.

Marcy remained quiet as they talked. Jealousy would streak through her when she heard the fondness for Peggy in Steve's voice. Jealousy of a dead woman was petty and she hated feeling that way. She was still surprised she was even invited to go. Steve's feelings for this woman, for this old life he no longer had or could have, had nothing to do with her. She promised herself she would not impose on this part of Steve despite the invitation. She would be there to support him if he needed it and that would be all.

At the funeral, Marcy and Bucky sat in the back corner. Bucky wanted to be present at the funeral, but staying in the shadows when one was the Winter Soldier seemed like a good idea. Steve sat up front with several other SHIELD agents who had worked with Peggy over the years. Marcy wished she could sit with him while he was hurting. But it seemed as though Steve wished to handle this pain on his own. Marcy knew all about that kind of thing and let him do what he felt he needed to do.

Steve paid little attention to the priest as he talked. He was too wrapped up in the past, in things lost and how fate had taken so much from him. He nearly failed to notice Sharon Carter speaking as well until something pulled his attention to her.

"Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right—even if the whole world is telling you to move—it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say 'no, you move.'"

At that moment, Steve felt like those words had been meant for him. Planted by Peggy in the memory of her niece to be saved for when he needed to hear them. In that moment, Steve felt touched by Peggy's presence and he felt a little at peace.

.

When the casket was lowered into the ground, Steve stood with Bucky and Marcy at the outskirts of the group. It was a very large crowd. Peggy had touched many people in her life for the better. Many mourned and remembered her. It was easy for the three to stand back, unnoticed.

Marcy couldn't help but notice Steve stood slightly apart from her while Bucky was practically glued to her other side. Steve was slipping away from her, closing himself off. For a moment, she felt a panic that he was going to drift away and never come back.

"You know, I met her a few times," Marcy said in a soft voice.

Steve's head snapped in her direction, surprised.

"She worked with my grandfather. She trained my mother when she first joined SHIELD. When I applied to join, she happened to be around to watch me. I don't know if it was just happenstance or on purpose, but she was there when my training group tested in."

There was a pause, but neither man on either side of her said anything.

"And that woman could frown," Marcy went on with a humorous huff. "She was not impressed with me at all. I wouldn't have been either. My heart wasn't in joining SHIELD. I did it because Mom had always wanted me to be an agent. She said I shouldn't let my abilities go to waste if I could use them to help people. Of course, I couldn't use them in front of everyone, so it wasn't like they could help me get through trials and testing anyway.

"I was not doing well. The other recruits were razzing me about how I had only managed to get this far because of my mom and grandfather. And every time I looked back, Agent Carter was there, watching me from the rafters like a disappointed coach. I was waiting my turn to show hand-to-hand combat skills and she was suddenly standing right next to me. 'No one believes in you' she told me."

"She did not say that," Steve said.

"I swear to God she did," Marcy replied. "'No one believes in you. Everyone here already thinks you're an easy mark. Even if you do make it in, you have already lost this fight and their respect.' So I got all huffy and asked her what she wanted me to do about it. She said 'hit them so hard the first time, they'll think twice about coming back for a second.' So the first round, I dislocated two of my opponent's fingers. In the second round of sparring, I broke a guy's arm."

Steve chuffed a bit in humor. "That's why Clint said you can't pull your punches."

"Yeah, he was there, too. He saw it all."

"Marcy fights mean," Steve muttered to himself, remembering the words of both Clint and Natasha.

"Hm?" Marcy wondered.

Steve just shook his head in dismissal.

.

After the funeral, the group returned to their hotel room. Though it was still daytime in London, they were tired from jet lag, especially the two soldiers who had not slept the night before. The plan was to draw the curtains and try to get a few hours of rest.

The three had only one room and two beds between them, but that didn't deter any of them from changing into more comfortable clothes out in the open. Even Marcy didn't have the energy to care enough to change in the bathroom. She merely faced the wall as she put a large t-shirt over her head and then slipped out of her black dress.

Steve, now in a t-shirt and sweats, sat on the window ledge, looking down from the sixth floor. Marcy walked toward him, but stopped a few feet away. He was still distant, in his own world. Maybe she shouldn't bother him. Maybe she hadn't given him enough time to himself yet.

Before she could decide to withdraw, Steve noticed she was there and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him what she wanted.

Marcy moved her mouth helplessly, unsure what to say. Would she just be a nuisance if she asked what was on his mind? Could she ask if he was okay without being overbearing or obnoxious? She wished she could be or do whatever he needed, but she had no idea what that was. Instead, she closed her mouth without saying a word and looked at him in futility.

Steve extended an arm to her and she came closer. He hooked his arm around her, guiding her to stand next to him. Marcy leaned against him, but he still felt far away, not looking at her. He was indulging her. She shouldn't force herself on him.

So she kissed him on the crown of his head and then moved away. "Ready to turn out the lights?"

Steve remained silent for a moment, his gaze still out the window, before he finally turned toward the room. "Yeah."

"James, did you take your sleep meds?"

He smirked at her from the bed farthest from the window. "Yes, Mom."

"Take care of yourself and I won't have to mother you," she shot back as she slipped under the covers.

Steve closed the curtains and then climbed into bed. He surprised Marcy by reaching over her to turn off the lamp, his chest pressing into her back. And he remained against her, one arm pulling her in. He rested his head at the crook of her neck from behind and let out a long sigh before letting his body relax.

Marcy closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off, enjoying the close proximity.

Across from them, Bucky lay on his back, watching the ceiling as he waited for the pills to kick in. He glanced over at the couple snuggled in the other bed, regretted it, and went back to staring at the ceiling.

He heard Steve shift in the bed next to him and his metal arm clenched into a tight fist.

.

It wasn't any sound that suddenly shook him from sleep, it was that sixth sense honed from months of sleeping on the ground with one eye open. Steve's soldier sense told him there was a body poised above him and Marcy as they slept and he lashed out the same time as his eyes popped open.

The gun had a silencer. Steve felt the bullet rush by his head as he slapped the gun out of his attacker's hand. The second the weapon was gone, Steve launched himself at the enemy and they both crashed to the floor.

Marcy startled awake, flipping on the lamp and readying herself to join the fight. But she saw no enemies in the room, only Steve and Bucky savagely engaged with each other.

"Bucky! Stop!" Steve barked. The Winter Soldier did not cease his attack, his eyes open, but without emotion.

With an angry growl, Steve slammed him into the ground and slapped Bucky hard across the face; one side, then the other. Then the first side again.

"Steve! What?" Bucky gasped between hits.

Steve would not stop until Bucky managed to kick him away. Both soldiers jumped to their feet, panting hard. Marcy had never seen Steve look so viciously angry before. He was still tense, looking ready to kill.

Bucky was far less angry, looking around in confusion, touching his stinging face. "Steve-"

"You had a gun, Buck," Steve spat.

"What...? How did I...?"

"There is a bullet hole in the wall! You almost killed one of us!"

Bucky looked at the bed with wide eyes. All the color drained from his face and he stumbled back. He remembered none of it; not grabbing a gun, not firing it. The room suddenly seemed far too small, all the oxygen sucked out. He couldn't stay anymore. He had to get out; had to get away.

"No," Marcy said, suddenly appearing between Bucky and the door. "You are not running from this. You are not going to flee out that door and disappear again. I don't care what you did."

His heart was still racing, his eyes dilated with panic. Bucky's first impulse was to push her out of the way and charge for the door. He almost did, but his metal arm halted in midair, refusing to do anything against her. That bullet had been meant for Steve only, there was no question about that.

"Just let me leave," he rasped. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I know you don't," Marcy said softly. "But you don't get to run when things get scary. So I want you to just stay where you are and breathe."

Bucky backed up against the wall. He closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep. He could feel Steve's anger and frustration radiating from his direction. It scorched him and all he could think about was getting away from it.

"I'm calm," he breathed. "But I still want to go. I need some air."

Marcy didn't move from where she blocked the door. "Will you come back?"

"Yes."

She still didn't move.

"Marcy, I promise, I'll be back. Steve and I just need a break from each other." He glanced at his best friend. Steve's jaw was still tight, his fists at his side. Steve's temper was quick to come and slow to leave. It was best for them all if the two soldiers had a moment to cool themselves away from each other. Or else Marcy would be trying to stop a second fight.

"Steve," Marcy started to say, but Bucky brushed past her, quickly slipping into his shoes and walking out the door in the sweats he slept in.

"I'll be back," he promised at the door. "I'll get us breakfast." He closed it after him before another word could be said.

Marcy silently watched the door. It had been her gun with the silencer. As a SHIELD agent, she never went without it. Part of this was her fault, but the situation also felt like it was spiraling far out of her control—of anyone's control. Was it getting to that point where they would not be able to recover from this? If Bucky had hurt or killed one of them... it would have been all over. Marcy suddenly felt she was very ill-equipped to be of any help.

"Marcy." She turned at the sound of her name and Steve was right there in her space. He radiated an intense aura that she had never felt from him before. "Are you okay?"

The throatiness of his tone gave her goosebumps. "Y...yeah. Physically, I'm okay."

Anything else she would have said was cut off as he cupped her chin, the thumb pressed to her mouth. At this moment, she noticed Steve was still on edge, his pupils dilated from the adrenaline rush of the earlier scare.

Marcy put both her hands on the extended arm, giving him an encouraging smile. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll still figure this out eventually, right?"

Steve shuddered and moved in, pressing his mouth to hers. His body moved into her, backing her into the wall. She gave a surprised sound into his mouth, which just made him kiss her deeper. For a moment, he had her pinned between his body and the wall; both felt equally hard. She pushed on him a little to come up for air and his mouth released her, but stayed close enough so she could feel his breath as he panted. The heat of his body radiated in waves and caught fire inside her.

She jumped him. He caught her easily and they both tumbled onto the bed. Clothes were soon discarded as they were wrapped up in each other. This was different than the other times they had been together. The romance and care was gone. This was passion and frustrated desperation. This was frantic touches of hands and mouths, skin sliding against skin. Nips and pants, sharp gasps and cries.

Marcy let the heat wash over her, take her fully, and she surrendered to it. But Steve, Steve was far away. His body was there, reacting, doing everything right. But his attention, his mind, was far from this place. Only his frustrations remained, and he took it all out on her.

They both eventually collapsed, sweating and breathing hard. Steve rolled off and onto his back, flopping an arm over his eyes. He remained that way for several minutes as his breathing slowed.

Marcy glanced over at him. Steve was still distant, as he had been for a while now. She was trying to decide how she felt about what just happened. The sex was good; hot. But Steve was only with her physically. Mentally, emotionally, he was currently untouchable.

James was the same way. Both were around constantly-in her house, in her space-but they were closing up. They kept their distance despite their taller statures constantly towering around her. This was not an issue she had ever faced before. It was curiously lonely and she had no idea how to react to it, if she should say anything at all.

Steve's phone signaled that whatever she would have decided to say, she lost her chance. Steve reached over to recover it when it pinged. A mere glance at the screen and he shot up in bed.

"What?" Marcy asked. "What is it?"

He breathed, trying to find the air to form words.

"There was an explosion in Vienna, during the meeting of the world leaders for the Sokovia Accords."

Marcy sat up with him. "What?!"

Steve stared at his phone a moment more then looked over at her. "I have to go there. Alone."

Marcy's mouth moved soundlessly. She didn't even get the chance to decide if she would go with him before the decision was made for her. "Uh, okay. So, is James then staying here with me?"

Steve frowned as he thought about it. He stuck his legs over the side of the bed and looked around to recover his pants. "I want the two of you to take the Quinjet back home. I'm going to call Fury. Bucky is going back to stay at SHEILD HQ where he can be monitored until I get back. He's not staying at the house anymore until we get this figured out."

Marcy wanted to say something. She wanted to talk about this more. But she feared it would start an argument. The last real fight she had with Steve, he left her. She didn't want to lose him again. She knew she kept letting him have his way. Every thought and action, every time she second guessed was she should do, was an attempt to keep him happy. To keep him with her.

She hated it. But she didn't know what else to do.

"Okay," she sighed. "That's fine."

.

Bucky returned to the hotel room earlier than anyone expected. He had promised to get breakfast, but had not taken any money with him. He was immediately informed that Steve was going to Vienna and he was going alone. Bucky was to go back to the states and stay at SHIELD. Not that Bucky was in any hurry to be near the Accords, or what was left of the attempt.

Marcy had nothing to say about any of it. She was already packing. There was an odd, closed-off feeling from her that wasn't there before. But everything was weird right now. Bucky had no idea while Steve and Marcy discussed while he was gone, or if it had anything to do with why Steve was going alone. He decided not to ask about it.

Steve grabbed his bag and asked Bucky to join him downstairs while he waited for a taxi. Marcy, happy the two would have a chance to talk before leaving, said she would see about preparing the jet for the flight home.

The two soldiers stood side by side a few paces from the hotel's entrance, watching the traffic go by. After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke.

"Buck, I need you to promise me-"

"I know what you're going to say, and you don't have to worry, Steve." Bucky glanced at him, somber seriousness on his face. "I won't let her try to convince me to stay. She'll say that since you won't be there at the house, I can stay there with her and everything will be fine. We both know it's not. The three of us have turned into a powder keg when we're together and it's my fault. I will go back to SHIELD. They can put me under any surveillance they want. What happened last night is never ever going to happen again. I won't let it. I promise you."

Steve stared at his friend, his chest aching. "I'm sorry this is happening."

"Me, too. I didn't want this."

"I know."

"If I left, this problem would be solved and the two of you could be happy."

"We wouldn't be happy without you, Buck."

Bucky looked away with a sigh, rubbing his face.

"Do you love her, Buck?" The words popped out of Steve's mouth before he even thought about it. "It's okay if you do. She cares about you, she wants to help you. I can't blame you if you feel that way about her."

"I don't feel much of anything Steve," Bucky rasped. He stared straight ahead instead of looking at his friend. "This Bucky from way back when that you remember, he isn't here anymore. One day, you might have to let me go, because he's not coming back."

The taxi pulled up at that moment as Steve looked at Bucky and his sad smile. He threw his arms around his best friend.

"Neither one of us made it out whole," Steve said. "There's still enough of you here, I see it. I feel it." He pulled back, holding Bucky's shoulders. "Even if I do have to let go eventually, today is not that day, alright?"

Bucky let out a long breath. He looked tired in his soul. "Alright, Steve. What's left of me will still be here when you get back."