Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set after 'Captain America: Civil War.'

STATE OF GRACE

Bucky was in the kitchen when the alarm went off one morning, letting everyone in the house know that Tony Stark was heading towards the property. At last. Steve was out running, he'd get some kind of alert on his phone. Lang would get the same; he was with his kid. Barton was with his family, moving them on to the next secure location they could call home. He was the first to message back.

Let me know.

He could be at the safehouse quickly. Natalia sent an even briefer message from Kosovo. She had brown hair now, partly for a mission. It made Bucky twitch.

Another alarm sounded, quieter this time – Stark was on foot now and he'd come alone. Hope messaged from Pym Tech, monitoring the technology that was making all the noise. Everything was working; she had eyes inside the house, visible and invisible. Bucky smiled faintly, waiting for the kettle to boil. He'd been a soldier before he'd ever been The Soldier. He'd learned how not to react before a fight. He leaned into battle, even now. He had a mission.

Sam messaged from their bedroom, Right here.

Yeah, he was. He'd have been flying in his dreams again, Bucky knew from the sleep flinching. He stretched, feeling his neck pop, and made his first coffee of the day. Sugar, no cream. Any future that included coffee this good was all right by him.

Stark would be able to see the house by now. Hope messaged a confirmation, her Dad was watching over her shoulder. Bucky could picture the anticipation.

There was a gun under the counter, and a saferoom through a door that could have led to a pantry. Stark wouldn't make a dent. The steam from the coffee smelled good. Bucky picked up the earbud that he'd retrieved from a drawer right after the first alarm had sounded. They were kept in every room, along with assorted weaponry. He slotted the bud into place, his hair veiling its presence.

"Tap your right index finger if you can hear this," Hope crisply instructed.

Bucky tapped his left index finger, just to hear the smile Hope thought she was hiding as she responded, "You know we supply your coffee?"

Bucky was still smiling as he took his first sip and the front door opened. Stark didn't knock. Bucky didn't put down his coffee, his smile hardening around the rim. He didn't need adrenaline. Some things hadn't ever changed.

"Steve is less than twenty minutes from the meet-up point," Hope relayed.

He'd hate that he wasn't there to help but he knew the rules – if you're out of the house, you go to the agreed meet-up point. Stark appeared in the kitchen doorway. Bucky hit a button under the counter; there was the slightest hiss and Stark stopped moving, frozen in the doorway. Bucky waited a moment but no, Stark couldn't move, his expression now furious and concentrated as he tried to summon his armor. Bucky used his free hand to send another mass text to everyone – Pym Tech worked. Go.

"Yes," was Hope's quiet triumph in Bucky's ear.

Bucky didn't take his eyes off of Stark; Stark was staring back in the exact way he had in the bunker – a wounded animal, desperate to lash out. It wouldn't bring anybody back. Natalia had talked before about red in her ledger; Bucky's was a whole bookstore.

"No communication devices or bugs. He's flying solo," Hope noted, her scans already complete.

Because the government wanted Bucky on a leash, for their fights. Stark wanted him dead. There were a lot of children out there, orphaned by the Winter Soldier, by Bucky. He didn't try to forget that. He didn't enjoy the taste and smell of those memories. He remembered every moment of killing Howard and Maria Stark. He remembered killing his friend.

A string of emoticons arrived from Darcy. She wouldn't be seen, as much as she wanted to be. She regularly kept a flask of coffee in her room overnight, just in case. Now she was enjoying the benefits. She was making her way downstairs with her bags.

Lang messaged – he and his daughter were safe, as were his ex-wife and her cop husband. Barton confirmed that he and his family were safe too. No one was following either unit.

Wanda entered the kitchen, swathed in a dark shirt she'd stolen the last time she'd babysat the Barton kids. It smelled like earth and the cheap carny beer Barton always bought. Wanda looked at Tony coldly. She should have been helping Darcy but Bucky wasn't going to stop her. Stark had his own ledger.

Wanda crossed to the fridge, retrieving a pie as though it was the perfect breakfast (it was) and paused to say quietly in Skovian by Bucky's left shoulder.

"Everything is ready."

Bucky nodded slightly, feeling the brush of her bare hand, the deliberate sweep of her hair as she left the room, her gaze dismissively away from Stark now. Stark would have made some calculations; as he was supposed to. Two weapons being drawn together. Wanda had laughed at the idea and had released red dancing light to trickle across Bucky's arm. Darcy had asked if it was her birthday.

Bucky met Tony's gaze again. He didn't apologize – it hadn't made a difference before. Bucky lived with regret every day. He thought about Sam's mouth hot on his skin, making Sam laugh and Steve smile, Sam's arms holding him when the regret fractured into something else. It wasn't all he was.

Stark didn't want to believe that. Bucky didn't blame him, even though Steve did, Sam too. Stark looked at Wanda and saw someone too dangerous to be free. He didn't see her kissing Darcy or swimming for the first time or talking about her twin. Bucky put down his coffee. He has his mission and all the color between the lines that hadn't been there in years.

He could kill Stark right now. He didn't need the gun under the counter. He could kill the man who hunted them worse than the military and dug a deeper knife because he thought he was still their friend. Stark had seen Sam, Wanda, Lang and Barton on the freighter prison and he'd kept coming after them, like he could persuade them back into cages. He didn't talk about prison but the ending would be the same.

"House is clear," Hope said.

Steve would be waiting for them all. Bucky didn't take a last look around the property that'd been their home for months now. They'd never personalized it, none of them carried much beyond essentials. Everything could be packed up in a matter of minutes. It'd look just like a safehouse for an alphabet agency.

Stark would be released in fifteen minutes. In twenty-five minutes, the house wouldn't be standing anymore. Bucky tapped his left index finger against the counter again and looked at Stark for a long moment. Steve counted him as a friend. Barton had done, so had Sam. Wanda never had.

HYDRA had had files on Stark; Bucky could recall every detail.

Bucky had always been willing to stand in the way to protect Steve, even when his mind had been programmed to see a target instead. In some shape, Steve was always his mission. He wasn't the only one anymore.

Bucky palmed the gun into his pants; Stark wouldn't have noticed. He was staring at Bucky's face. It would only take a moment, killing him.

"Bucky."

Everyone was waiting. Who was waiting for Stark?

Bucky turned abruptly and left, the door swinging shut behind him. Downstairs was a basement, which lead out to a different stairway up to where a car was hidden at the back of the house a few miles away. Stark hadn't tried to cripple it. Bucky's bike had been hidden somewhere else. He could always rebuild it again.

Sam waited behind the wheel, his expression warm when he saw Bucky. There was faint music; that was all Darcy and the earphones resting at her neck, sat in the back with Wanda, both staring out the window, looking for Bucky. Wanda's red light touched him again; he curled a hand through it in thanks.

Wanda hadn't ever looked inside his mind. It'd make a hell of a weapon.

"Steve's waiting," Hope told them all, as Bucky got in the passenger side.

Sam started the engine and the car peeled away. Darcy was talking to Hope now, wanting to know if Jane had been contacted about their changing location. Hope was relaying it all to Jane now. She was also safe; somewhere she could work and not get dragged into this. She was aiming to publish her work though; defiant against Tony on another battlefield. She worried about Darcy, always running now. Darcy worried about Jane, staying put. It was very familiar.

Sam glanced at Bucky, checking him over in a way that made a smile crawl across Bucky's face. Sam smiled back a little, he might deny it but it was there. He shook his head.

"Stark in one piece?"

Bucky nodded. Wanda murmured in Sokovian, her words making Bucky's expression change into thin agreement. Sam didn't look like he needed to ask. He didn't look exactly reproachful or disagree either. He looked like he wanted to touch Bucky but he was driving and couldn't focus on what Bucky was open to. Bucky laid a hand on Sam's leg, not as high up the thigh as he wanted but it worked. Sam was warm, his hand touched Bucky's. Bucky didn't shift away.

Darcy's music got louder and he knew she was trying to take a photo. Hope was talking to her Dad. Steve was waiting. Bucky could see a flicker of Wanda's red light in the mirror. In the distance it was joined by smoke. Objective achieved; mission ongoing. Sam squeezed Bucky's hand like he'd heard him. He should be flying; that was part of the mission too.

-the end