It always started off the same.

He was on the train.

And then, Bucky fell.

He would wake up in a cold sweat, barely able to catch his breath, his insides in knots.

It had been bad enough when he thought Bucky had died, but to know that he had been tortured and twisted by Hydra again and again over the decades was more than Steve could bear.

And after months of searching, he still couldn't find him anywhere.

00000

He woke with a start in the pitch black room and then fumbled around for the light. He tried to be careful; he'd already broken one lamp during his stay at Stark Towers. Finally, his fingers found the switch and he turned it on, blinking at the sudden influx of light.

He looked over at the alarm clock next to his bed and saw 2:45 a.m. in glowing green numbers. He sighed as he sat up, scratching the back of his head. Too early to get up.

He stood and stretched, knowing that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for hours. After he was "defrosted", he went through a stint of nightmares about the war, about Bucky dying. Slowly, over the months, they faded. Fury had tried to get him to see a shrink when the S.H.I.E.L.D.-mandated psych evals came back, but Steve stubbornly resisted. He couldn't imagine opening up to a stranger, no matter how well-intentioned.

The nightmares came back in full force after he found out that Bucky was alive. As soon as Steve got out the hospital, he and Sam spent months looking for him, tracking down every lead Natasha sent them and still nothing. Bucky was trying hard to stay a ghost, to stay one step ahead of Hydra.

And that kept him one step ahead of Steve.

Steve pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxer briefs and grabbed a matching sweatshirt from the closet. Slipping on his socks and tennis shoes, he headed for his door. Tony was in the process of renovating dozens of offices and conference rooms into apartments for his fellow Avengers. Steve's apartment was half-done. The living room, bathroom, and bedroom had been completed and furnished, but like most of the other apartments, it lacked a kitchen.

There was one large room on their floor which had been designated the "hangout room" by Clint. It had a huge gourmet kitchen that looked like it belonged in a small restaurant, as well as overstuffed couches lining the walls and a big-screen T.V. Steve wondered if Tony was delaying the construction of everyone's personal kitchens in an effort to force them to socialize more than they would otherwise.

As he walked to the other end of the hall, Steve shook his head, wondering again why he was even there. After the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D. , he and Sam had spent nearly six months looking for Bucky. But, the trail grew colder and colder, until it became positively frigid. As much as Sam protested, Steve couldn't see putting him through any more hotel rooms and cramped airline seats as they traveled the world trying to find Bucky. He sent Sam back home to D.C. where he still had a job waiting.

And then, Steve called Natasha.

Both she and Clint had ended up at Stark Tower. Neither of them had a job and undercover work was a bit hard when all of your personal information was uploaded to the internet. So, they ended up at Stark Industries, just like Maria Hill. So, Steve made the call, and after twenty minutes of reaming him out for not calling earlier, Tony invited him to stay at the Tower.

Steve opened the door to the hangout room, hoping to find some relief and to be able to get back to sleep. Most pharmaceuticals didn't work on him after he had the serum, but for some reason, warm milk still seemed to soothe him enough so that he could drift off to sleep. It was a trick that his mother used to use when he woke up crying from a nightmare as a child. She'd take out a small pot and warm up a bit of milk over the stove. Then, she'd hold him on her lap as he sipped it, whispering soft words of love into his ear.

Steve felt childish that he needed the ritual of a warm mug of milk to lull him back to sleep, but he really couldn't take another sleepless night. A light was already on in the kitchen portion of the large room, so he made a beeline straight for double refrigerator. He took out the milk and poured it into his mug. At first, he had rolled his eyes when Tony had presented him with a mug with a copy of his shield on it, but he had to admit, it did make it easier to know whose mug was whose when they all crowded around the breakfast table in the morning.

He put the mug in the microwave and started it up. He could have done it over the stove, but he didn't want to have to wash out any extra dishes. When the microwave pinged, he heard a soft grunt behind him.

He turned around and saw a woman waking up on the couch on the far side of the room. She was in green plaid flannel pajamas, a blue comforter wrapped around her. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She sat up and grabbed a pair of glasses resting on the coffee table in front of her.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake anyone up," Steve said sheepishly. She looked familiar and it took Steve a moment to place her. Tony had pointed her out a few days ago, seated with Thor and Dr. Jane Foster, who were visiting from England. Steve hadn't seen much of them since they were still getting over jetlag. He tried to remember the woman's name, Dr. Foster's intern, but for the life of him he couldn't. He thought it began with a D.

"No worries. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was scrolling through Tumblr and I must have dozed off," the woman said with a smile, holding up her phone.

A very nice smile, Steve thought.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"Something like that," she said evasively. Steve saw that although she looked young, she had dark circles under her eyes that seemed to age her.

"Me, too," he admitted as he held up his mug of warm milk.

"Well, you've been through a lot," she said kindly as she stood, wearing the comforter around her like a robe and walked over to where he was. "Hi, I'm Darcy," she said with an outstretched hand as she approached.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Steve," he said as he shook her hand, holding onto it a bit longer than necessary.

"I got that," she said wryly. "So, does the warm milk help?" she asked as she waved over to his cup.

"It does for me. I could make you some?" he offered.

She smiled again and the room seemed to light up at it. "That'd be nice."

He got out a blue mug from the cabinet and opened up the refrigerator door. "Okay, so we've got whole milk, 2%, 1%, non-fat, almond, soy, vanilla soy, and unsweetened soy. What would you like?" he asked.

"Uh . . . wow. 2%?" she replied.

"Alright," he replied as he filled up the mug.

He put the mug in the microwave and turned back to her. "Gotta love modern appliances."

She nodded. The seconds seemed to stretch until the microwave dinged again. He handed her the cup and she smiled as she took it. "Thanks," she said, heading to the large kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around the mug.

Steve followed and sat down next to her, sipping his milk. He loved the feeling of warmth emanating from the mug, although he doubted he'd be able to sleep anytime soon.

"So, you work for Dr. Foster?" he began, not knowing what else to say.

She nodded. "Unpaid intern. Well, I get free room and board, which consists of crashing at Jane's mom's apartment and eating all her food. And, I get to save the world from time to time."

"Yeah . . . the Greenwich thing." He remembered reading the S.H.I.E.L.D. files after the attack.

"Yep . . ." she said with false bravado, but Steve could see her shudder.

"I read the reports on that. It seemed pretty . . . intense," he said delicately.

"Just end of the world stuff," she snarked, but she looked down, not meeting his eyes.

"There were a lot of aliens involved in that, right? Trying to kill anyone who stopped them?"

She kept looking down and just nodded, her eyes still downcast.

"Do you have trouble sleeping? Nightmares?" he asked.

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Stupid, right? I mean, Jane and Thor did all the heavy lifting. Thor even had his mom and brother die. And I'm the one that ends up a mess. Night terrors, panic attacks. It's so dumb." She pulled the comforter closer around herself.

"Hey . . . hey. It's not dumb. We all deal with things in different ways," Steve said. "I've had them, too. No one's immune."

She cocked her head to the side. "You, too?"

Steve nodded, the first time he'd actually owned up to it. "First, it was about the war and my friend dying. But after D.C., . . . ." he trailed off, not able to complete the sentence. "You're not alone."

"Thanks," she said, sipping her warm milk again.

Steve sat there a moment, not knowing what to say. Finally, he downed the rest of the milk and stood. "I guess I . . . I should head back to bed."

"Me, too." She followed him back to the kitchen sink. They washed out their mugs and placed them on the drying rack. They both headed out the door together, walking side by side in companionable silence. Halfway down the hall, Darcy halted, waving to a door with the number 4 on it. "This is me. Thanks . . . for listening."

Steve nodded. "Anytime. And I mean that, anytime."

Darcy smiled and turned to go, "I'm going to hold you to that," she called out over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

You'd better, Steve thought before he went back to his room.

That night, Steve had a hard time sleeping, but it had nothing to do with his nightmares.

Author's Note- So, I still haven't decided about this one. It could be a one-shot, a short story, or a long multi-chaptered one like "The Captain's Bride". I still haven't made up my mind. I hope you've enjoyed it!