Archive of Our Own ^beta

The doubt that this team will ever work to the level the previous Avengers did is a constant weight on their shoulders, a pressure on the soul. It doesn't help anything that Valentina just keeps adding more and more things to do, more plates to balance. It is starting to wear on them all and Yelena cannot help but wonder who is going to crack first.

As she cases the back of the hotel they are renting rooms in for the night, she meditates on it. Today it is a toss-up between all of them, the most unclear it's been in months. If you had asked her yesterday she would have said Bucky, who has to deal with the PR aspect of the team the most. The day before that she would have said Ava, who was getting restless about having stayed in one place for too long. With the mission today? Could be any one of them.

It's been four months since the "New Avengers" were formed and in that time, no matter how prickly everyone is, you end up learning a thing or two. Which is how Yelena knows that this mission feels like it was specifically targeted to affect each and every one of them.

A twenty four hour stakeout on two different buildings just down the street from each other. Intel couldn't land on which building exactly they were supposed to be waiting to intervene at, which of course meant they would have to watch both. Intel also wasn't sure what time the meeting they were supposed to be stopping was going to be held, which also meant they would have to have at least two set of eyes on each building.

There is a crackle in her com before she hears two small beeps, the signal from Walker that her and Bob could come up to the room. She moves from the back security cameras blind spot with her gear slung over one shoulder. Bob appearing from a different spot carrying Walker's shield and a few other bags with things they'll need for the stakeout. The back door is already propped open slightly with a brick, and Yelena smiles while sending a small internal thank you to Ava for making their job slightly easier.

Bob has a smile on his face as they ascend the stairs before he laughs slightly under his breath.

"What is so funny?" She asks, maybe too bluntly but Bob never really seems to notice or mind that.

She watches as he smiles at her slightly before responding, his voice low and with an edge of incredulousness. "Just remembering how we had to remind both the guys upstairs that they couldn't exactly look like normal people renting a hotel room if they had their giant bent metal shield on their person and their high-tech metal arm visible."

She chuckles slightly under her breath with a smile, remembering that part of the mission brief herself. It is humorous but in a strangely domestic way, if your idea of domestic was way way different then everyone else.

They quickly reach the top floor on the left side of the building where with the secret knock they came up with, one long, three short, one long. They were let in by one US Agent, John Walker, who rolled his eyes and muttered something about them taking long enough in a way that held no heat before moving aside to let them in.

The room was very standard; two beds, a desk with a few different chairs, and a dresser with the TV sitting on top of it. Since they would only be sleeping one at a time all the stuff that Walker had been setting up for the stakeout was laid out on the bed closer to the window.

"Check-in go alright?" She asks.

"Peachy. The lady behind the counter only made one weird comment." For Walker that could mean anything from she flirted with him to she said you're welcome in a way that made him squint at her too hard.

"Good good. Alright let's get to business."

With the door shut behind them the cameras went back to their normal footage instead of the loop they had been set on. Together in near silence they put together the room for their needs. Chairs and the desk had been pushed to view out the window, cameras and computers set out to record and monitor. Phone unplugged and the bed that was actually going to used for it's proper purpose was put as far back as possible as to separate the two spaces.

It was during this set up Yelena got back to thinking just how poorly this mission could blown up in their faces, hitting so many wounds at once. The meeting that they were supposed to bust was a meeting of two splinter groups formed from a terrorist organization she only knows due to brief tense conversations with John and Bucky called the Flag Smashers and of course an even older splinter group with operatives from SHEILD who were actually HYDRA all along. Throw in some human trafficking and drug experimentation and well, you sprinkle salt into every open wound on the team.

She is finishing up on putting together the last camera scope when she hears the two men behind her start to talk about who should get what shift. Earlier in the mission brief they had decided to do four hour rotating shifts, just to make sure no one missed anything by being bored. Not mentioning how many of them couldn't sleep for 8 hours straight at a time normally, let alone here and now.

"Lena," Bob starts to ask, "do you mind taking first sleep shift?"

She raises her eyebrow at the two of them, having previously assumed one of them would have been taking it, but Bob had slept during the ride here and just by observing the nervous energy Walker is putting out she can tell that she is the most likely to actually be able to sleep.

"Alright, don't burn down the hotel." She simply says before heading to the sleeping bed.

Walker scoffs before replying, "If anyone is gonna burn down this hotel it's gonna be the other room."

She rolls her eyes as she lays down, facing the wall and giving a quick goodnight mostly for Bob. It takes a while, but eventually she is able to slow her breathing enough to slowly fall into slumber.

---
The room Yelena finds herself in is dark and as silent as a grave, with only one singular light hanging above her as she is supine on a hard surface.

It is unclear to her how she knows this but she knows with a deep certainty that if whoever put her on this table comes back she will be cut open and experimented on. They are willing to do anything to learn how she escaped. She isn't even totally sure how she escaped the first time but she cannot remain here to figure it out. She has to get away from here. Now.

With a deep breath, she attempts to sit up only to discover that she isn't just laying on this table but strapped to it. She reaches for a weapon, a tool, something anything to try and cut her bounds, but there is nothing.

In her panic she almost doesn't notice the footsteps approaching through the darkness. Almost. Her breathing picks up speed when she realizes they are only getting closer, she knows better then to loose control but she cannot help it thrashing against the table in desperation.

The Red Room has already taken so much from her. She doesn't know how much more she can give them.

Just as it seems like her panic has peaked it abruptly stops right in it's tracks, and with it her movements. There is a sound, a familiar one. She strains her ears just to make sure she is hearing it properly.

It's a whistle. Her sister's whistle. Her sister is here and she is safe. No one could ever hurt her with Natasha around.

Speaking of Natasha, there she is suddenly visible in the spotlight of the room. Something isn't right though, something is just off. Natasha's face is completely blank, not even neutral, blank.

Even in their worst moments, Natasha has never looked at her with so little emotion. Exasperation yes, anger once or twice but never this. This complete and total lack of emotion does not belong on her sister's face as she walks around the table slowly.

It makes Yelena feel small, like she is being circled by a predator. Why isn't Natasha helping her? Shouldn't they be getting out of here?

When Natasha reaches the head of the table, she is forced to look at her sister from bellow and upside down. It should not be comforting but she finds it such anyways as a hand comes up to cup the side of her face. Yet the face above her remains emotionless.

Before she can ask any questions about if her sister is alright or what is going on there is a knife in the other hand.

Yelena finds herself helpless and unable to stop it as the knife plunges into her chest.

But was it really her being stabbed? Or was she doing the stabbing? As now she is suddenly standing. The wrongness of this hits her quickly, but there is no time to dwell on that because the knife previously stabbing into her is now in her hand. There is a body at her feet.

It is a familiar scene from not too long ago, but instead of the fellow widow on the ground it is a different shape. Quickly moving she turns the body over only to see Bob's face looking up at her.

His skin is pale, and he has no pulse even as she desperately searches for one, his face is one of shock and betrayal. He never saw her coming, or if he did he never though she would hurt him. The guilt and grief hits her like a wave, pulling her under the sea as the body falls from her arms.

She backs against the nearest wall with quick breaths and scrapes on her hands, but that doesn't matter because her best friend is dead.

Her best friend is dead and she killed him.

Yelena looks up to see the rest of the Thunderbolts standing, blocking the way out of the alleyway. Their faces filled with anger and violent intent. They close in, getting closer and closer, wanting to punish her for hurting one of their own.

The knife from before is gone, and instead when she looks down she finds herself holding a half-empty bottle of vodka.

There are hands, on her shoulders and arms and someone is trying to take the bottle from her. No matter how much she wants to just give in and let them take it something else inside her kicks in and she is fighting for it. Pulling back and forth with someone like tug of war both desperately trying to take the bottle for themselves.

She manages to kick and squirm her way out of multiple grips, she does not know who she is fighting specifically but she knows that she has made her way out of many holds with them during training sessions. So she keeps fighting until it is only her and the person holding the neck of the bottle.

She wants to let go but she can't, her hands frozen or glued or something to that effect to the bottle. The fight is getting more and more desperate now.

And then as soon as it began it is over. The other person's grip on the bottle slips, the weight and gravity of the fight for it causes the bottle to rocket into Yelena's face at full force.

---

As the bottle in her dreams hits her in the face, Yelena wakes up in a hotel room. Her body is still moving and before she can get a hold of herself she falls out of the bed, on to some cushioning that was previously not on the floor.

The small thump of her hitting the ground alerts the other two in the room, both of whom look over their shoulders to find the usually graceful widow splayed on pillows and blankets torn from the other bed.

"Are you alright? You were having a really intense dream." Bob asks.

At the sound of his voice, concerned but very clearly alive, much of the tension still in her body unfurls. Sitting up from the makeshift crash pad on the ground she gives a thumbs up in their direction, needing a moment before she can find her voice again but not wanting to leave them in suspense. John simply nods once and turns back towards the camera footage, on a slight delay to make sure he didn't miss anything while checking on her.

Bob in contrast gets up from the chair he was sitting on and goes to help her up from the ground. Something that at first she is slightly annoyed by until she tries it herself, discovering that her legs aren't quite back online yet and that if it weren't for Bob she would be hitting the pillows on the floor again.

When she regains her balance she doesn't say anything but pats Bob on the arm. Looking back towards the actual bed she sees that she did a number on the bedding, even the starched and taut bed sheet is slightly rumpled in some places. She usually moves around a lot in her sleep, a habit that started after she had escaped the Red Room and found herself in big enough beds to do so. Now she finds herself slipping and falling out of smaller beds. Sometimes the size of the bed didn't matter at all and she would fall out anyways.

"You were thrashing around a lot. More then usual." Bob says softly. "He'd never admit this but it was John's idea to put the padding on the ground in case you tumbled off."

She smiled at him, "Thank you. Is it time for someone else's shift yet?"

Walker speaks up from the other side of the room, "You have about thirty-ish minutes left if you wanna step out for some air or something like that."

"Is there any-"

"Coffee is in the corner."

"I'll make you a cup."

You learn a lot about how people work in four straight months of living and working together. It's as helpful as it is insufferable.

Splashing her face off with cold water in the bathroom to help her wake up a little more she takes the time to bring herself down from the dream. Bucky has been trying to pass on the little information he has on coping as the only person who has or is willing to go to therapy at this point. One of the things he taught her specifically is that grounding herself post dreams like this are important. So she repeats her name, where she is, and the date to herself a few times. Just so she knows. Throwing in a couple reminders that she's safe as well.

When she walks out of the bathroom, Bob is holding out a paper cup of coffee to her and they go sit back at the desk to watch the building together for a bit before whoever decided to sleep second goes off to bed. Taking a sip she discovers it is bitter as hell, but with some sugar to try and offset it, just how she likes it.

"This was not made with the hotel's coffee maker." She says on the edge of accusing, looking into the corner to see that the hotel's coffee machine has been pushed to the side. Somehow one of the two men, she knows exactly which one, had brought the coffee maker from the tower into the hotel room plugging it in.

John sighs. "I was not using a Keurig. I swear those things make the weakest coffee."

"Well, most people don't drink consumable jet fuel they drink coffee."

Yelena rolls her eyes as Bob jumps in with his opinion. Starting a lighthearted and tension breaking argument, as they look out to the street bellow. The dream fades into the back of her mind, joining the dozens of others that she will have until she dies.

"Lena, your dad is asking for you to do a check in." John hands her the com she took out earlier and offers up his better vantage seat. Walking to the back of the room to get prepped for sleep.

As she puts in the com device there is silence over the line. "Dad? Are you alright?"

"Yelena! Thank goodness! Yes I am alright just..." Her usually very boisterous father trails off, and well she can pick up between the lines.

----

Alexei is honestly wondering why they are planning on just waiting around and doing nothing. He understands the purpose of stakeout in theory but this just feels like they could have waited until they knew for sure which building it was going to be before showing up to kick ass.

His Yelena says that this is a necessary part of the plan so he guesses that this will do for now. His group is on the top floor of the right side of the hotel, looking at a short and stout building. The other one further down the street is tall with a lot more floors. He notes that it would be more of a tactical advantage for them to meet in the shorter building but it would be better for the people meeting to meet in the taller building. Unless they want a quick exist, which could be possible.

No one is sure what is exactly going down at this meeting, which is one of the reasons that they are watching this building in the first place.

Getting into the hotel unseen was so very easy. With the rooms reserved in advance under fake names Walker and Barnes had been set up with and cameras that were easily dealt with. The other four team members simply walked up the stairs with all of their more, conspicuous luggage. Of course Ava had just been able to phase through the walls, but she had kindly opened the side door for him upon his approach carrying most of their materials.

Once they had gotten to the door all they needed to do was knock and Bucky Barnes was opening the door for them and shuffling them in to get started.

Ava is resetting the hotel security camera's back to their natural state, while their leader sets up more of the technology they will be using to keep track of everything. Bucky is reading off a checklist given to him as he works. Alexei has his own, which involves moving the beds and unplugging certain things in the room.

The silence in the room isn't uncomfortable but it grates on him just enough to get him to speak.

"You know back in my day we did not need to use these, cameras and stuff. We simply watch with our eyes."

He can already feel Ava rolling her eyes, and hears the small huff under Bucky's breath.

"I'm sure that worked out great for you back then big guy but now just our eyes definitely isn't enough for super spies and the like. I mean do you think a person watching with just their eyes could see us walk into a random building. Even the camera's here didn't catch us."

"Of course not! We are just much better then everyone else!"

Ava shakes her head slightly, but there is a smile that wasn't quite there before blooming.

Behind him Bucky has apparently finished with most of the set up. Facing the two of them as he speaks, "Besides, this way causes a lot less eyestrain then sitting up on a mountain for hours with a sniper rifle."

"That is very true. Sniper rifle scope always so uncomfy after hours and hours of waiting to shoot somebody."

Ava goes to sit cross-legged on the office chair facing out the window, her head immediately nestled in her hand to hold it up. "Assuming we don't have to make a quick exit, do you think this place has an axe-throwing bar?"

"Not one that hasn't already heard of us and will see us coming." Bucky replies, glancing over at her. "Never thought I'd see the day that checking into a hotel is less likely to blow my cover then going to a bar."

"I don't know, perhaps they will not know. We are further away from home-base then usual." He knows this cause he drove here, switching out only once at Yelena's request, a decent drive but not as long as driving to Utah. This time they are in the state known as Michigan.

"We can check later." Bucky says, clearly just trying to end the conversation. "Right now we should sort out shifts."

Right, the sleeping shifts. Four hours per rest for each hero, sleeping on the bed in the back of the room. Alexei watches as both younger heroes turn to look at him immediately.

"I do not want to sleep first." He loudly complains.

"It was a twelve hour drive, and you did drive for eight of those hours."

"Imagine what Yelena would say if we took first shift instead of you man."

Curse them, knowing exactly how to get him to go. He knows exactly why they both actually want him to take first shift, they're both incredibly restless when anything involving their past affiliations are on the mission docket. It does not mean he has to be happy about it.

Which is why he grumbles in Russian under his breath as he situates the bed to his liking. Listening to the purposefully quiet conversation of his companions, Ava has not let go of axe-throwing as a possible post-mission activity, as he lays down and waits for the darkness of rest to overtake him.

---

When he finds himself on a familiar tarmac it is as devastating as anything can be. He knows where he is, he knows why he's here. Alexei takes no time to wait for the scene to start, frantically looking around to find his daughters. His smart, incredible, strong daughters who he did not deserve but who didn't deserve what is coming to them even more.

It does not take long for him to locate the fight.

It is further away then he would like it to be, closer to the plane then he would like as well. So, he starts sprinting their direction.

The closer he gets, the more the scene looks unfamiliar compared to before. There are more men and less little girls. Instead his grown girl stands in both her and her sister's place. No Natasha with her blue hair to be seen and no little Yelena with her red and white shirt. Just the Yelena he knows now, with her striking eyeliner and short haircut.

She is fighting off dozens of men. Which he knows she is capable of, but should not have to handle alone. Not anymore.

When he goes to step up into the battle, to start throwing fists and men alike, he finds that his feet are stuck to the ground. He tries to move towards her, to take her blind spots and hoist her spirits but no matter how hard he tries he cannot move from this spot.

Alexei is close enough to see her start to waver, tired from the constant battle. He is far enough to not even be able to grab a single man away from her. Even as more and more flood in to surround her they seem to part around him, just out of his reach.

He can't even open his mouth to yell to her, it is like it has been glued shut. Or maybe his vocal cords have died because there isn't even a muffle.

There are just too many. Too many men, with too many weapons, and as strong and capable as he knows his daughter to be she cannot take all of them alone. When one gets a lucky shot at her knee, she tumbles downwards. The last thing he sees of her before she is taken over by the mob is her face, asking for help with no words.

It is then that for some godforsaken reason he is able to move, his feet unstick from the rocky concrete as he runs forwards for her.

Only to be met with prison bars.

His hands on pure instinct wrap around the bars, just barely keeping his momentum from sending him crashing face first into the metal. Hearing a crunch as he steps forward he looks down to find the floor of the cell riddled with bullet casings and oddly cereal.

Wheaties. The floor is covered in Wheaties.

He turns away from the bars to examine the cell and while he feels in his heart he is back in the motherland, back in Russia, this was not how his cell looked. Even if you took away the cereal and the bullets, well, if you took those away there would be nothing. No bed, no toilet, nothing but concrete walls. There isn't even a door amongst the bars.

He turns around to check that he was correct in that as it was built off only his brief look at it. But when he looks out the bars he is no longer concerned with if there is or isn't a door.

Yelena is here again, her sister and her mother as well. The Thunderbolts all also stand outside his cell. Their eyes, their faces all accusing him. Of what he doesn't know until he sees it.

Bullet holes. So many bullet holes. Going straight through his wonderful girls, and his proud team.

He reaches for the bars again, attempting to rattle them. Find some weak point. Find some way out to reach them. There isn't one, and he realizes this at the exact moment all of them hit the floor.

He hits the floor with them, falling to his knees with a sickening crunch. Metal and food stabbing into his legs as he reaches as far as he can through the bars. Natasha's arm is the closest, and he scrabbles to grab hold of her hand.

Alexei thinks he might dislocate his shoulder from reaching so far, but if that is what it takes to be with his girl in her final moments then that pain is inconsequential, not important in the slightest to him.

When he finally manages to grab hold it is cold, colder then the snow and ice he grew up with. Her hand is tacky and sticky with blood. He cannot feel a pulse even through her thumb, but as he looks at her face he determines she must still be alive.

The blood slowly leaking from her body mingles with her red hair, he cannot tell if her hair is in it's natural state anymore or if she still dyed it like she used to enjoy doing.

She is trying to tell him something, but he cannot hear her.

He tries bringing his head closer to her, to see if his ear can even pick up a syllable of a word. Still nothing, he attempts to read her lips but it is like there is nothing but gibberish to be understood. Until her lips stop moving and her face goes completely slack.

He will never know what she was trying to say to him.

---

It is rare for Alexei to wake up without trying to attack anyone. After so many years of being woken up mid or pre prison riot you never lose that small inkling in the back of your head that you're waking up to fight someone.

Luckily as he opens his eyes post nightmare, he finds his fists clenched but not in active motion. This does not stop the distress as he rapidly goes to stand, looking around for Yelena but not seeing her in the room.

"Woah, Alexei." Bucky crosses the room in a second, it's like he never even sat down while Alexei was asleep. Both metal and flesh hand are reaching out to grab his arms, as if to steady him.

"You alright big guy? Bad dream?"

He finds his arms reaching up to clasp at the ones holding him up. Allowing the strength of his teammate to flow through him.

"Yelena. Is she awake?"

Ava speaks up from where she is glancing over her shoulder, clearly more interested in what is happening inside the room then outside of it but trying her best to keep on the mission.

"We've only been hearing Bob and Walker but I can ask."

"Please."

Ava reaches her hand up to press the communication device in her ear. Speaking lowly under her breath to the people on the other side.

Bucky pulls his attention back to him, also speaking softly but as if to calm.

"Hey, hey. We're gonna get Yelena on the coms but right now you need to breath a bit."

He hadn't even realized his breathing was irregular, but he doesn't think this will be solved by anything other then hearing Yelena's voice. Certainly not any of those silly breathing exercises.

"Walker's handing her a com now. Here." Ava hold out one of the ear devices and he wastes no more time, going over to grab it immediately and shoving it in his ear with more force then is probably strictly needed.

"Dad?" He hears over the line. "Are you alright?"

The wave of relief is so strong he almost falls over right then and there. Instead he finds himself in a nearby seat, Bucky's before he got up. The man himself seemingly having guided him into sitting in it.

"Yelena! Thank goodness. Yes I am alright I just." He finds himself at a loss for words. His daughter is alright, of course she was. It was just a dream after all.

"It's ok, I get it. I just woke up from a dream too." He watches as Ava's eyes slightly widen at the admission.

"Oh, do you wish to talk about it?" Maybe she had also seen her sister. Maybe she knows what the message was supposed to be.

"No no not right now. It's all alright. I am ok, you are ok. We are all ok."

It might be the best thing he's ever heard.

---

It takes very little time for John to typically fall asleep, to the point that it used to be a common joke between him and the people in his regiment. John used to brag about it, that he could fall asleep on nothing but a piece of rebar if he really tried. Now the fact that he falls asleep quickly is heavily overshadowed by the fact that he really doesn't want to, and when he does it never lasts.

He is placing a handgun within reach of the bed when he hears Yelena laugh incredulously. He turns to see her look at Bob and then to him with a look that just screams 'can you believe this shit?'.

"Ava wants to see if there is a place near here who does axe-throwing." John rolls his eyes before turning around to take off his boots.

"I'm calling it now," Bob states, "there is absolutely no way any axe-throwing place hasn't heard of us here. Not after the one in South Carolina."

The axe-throwing place in South Carolina does not need to be discussed. The entire room shivers with the memory.

"That's what I'm saying!" Yelena continues as if it never came up, and John tunes out the rest of their conversation as he preps for sleeping.

As he goes to face-plant into the rumpled bedding left behind by Yelena he decides to give the other two a quick heads up. "Goin' to bed, wake me if there's any updates."

"Aye, aye Captain Taco John." Is the response he gets from them and they're lucky he can't throw little mini shields from his eyes because he would be with the glare they get. That's before his eyes close and just like that he is out like a light.

---

The house is quieter then he remembers. In the weeks leading up to John moving out of the family home and getting served the divorce papers it seemed like the home was always buzzing with frantic energy.

Babies, it turns out, are loud. Sometimes, John thought the kid was louder then gunfire even though he knew better.

He can't hear the baby right now.

Before he can even rationalize why Liam isn't crying he is walking up the stairs towards the nursery.

The house is dark, all of the overhead lights are off and so are most of the lamps. The only reason he can see where he is walking is because of the small nightlight just outside the baby room in the hallway. He remembers that when he left Liam had been developing the common childhood fear of the dark. At the time he was dismissive of it, now he thinks maybe the kid had been on to something.

He watches as his hand reaches up for the door which is slightly cracked open to push it open. It's odd, how little he feels in control of what should be his arm and hand in this moment. His legs too as once the door is open enough he slips inside without even thinking about it.

The nursery is dark too, but somehow slightly more alive. The mobile above the crib is spinning slightly but there is not a single sound, not even the sound of tiny breaths through tiny lungs.

Not hearing any breathing feels like a very urgent thing to deal with. As shitty of a father he is he knows about things like SIDs. His body apparently hadn't gotten the memo about the urgency, and takes very clipped, measured, calm steps towards the crib.

It isn't until he actually reaches the crib that he realizes that it's possible his body knows things he doesn't, cause when he looks down at where his son is; Liam is nowhere to be seen.

No, instead it's the shield. Captain America's shield. Shiny and bright like it's been recently polished with drying blood coating the bottom edge. Laying in the crib where his son should be and staining the delicate baby blue blankets underneath it with the mistakes of a father.

It's at this moment he gets control back of his body, stepping back quickly from the crib. Head on a swivel like he can see who planted this in his families home, like they'll just melt out from the shadows that his son is so afraid of.

It's while he's glancing around that he sees the bomb.

A simple bomb, so similar to ones he's seen before it's like it was plucked from Afghanistan and placed here instead. No timer, so it must be a cellphone bomb.

John rushes over to the device but bomb defusal was never something he was trained in, no matter how many times he asked.

There's a window to his left. So, with no idea how much time he has before the device explodes, he throws the device out the window.

The sound of the glass shattering is so loud in the dead silence that he almost goes to cover his ears, but the bomb doesn't go out the window. At least, not completely, the window shatters and the bomb is outside but only for a split second before it's shunted right back in. The bomb hits him in the chest and the force of the blow knocks him down.

His back hits the wall behind him and for a moment it's like can hear the sound of Lemar hitting the concrete.

Dazed he looks down at the bomb just at the moment that the phone attached to it rings, but it doesn't go off instantly. Not until the call goes to voicemail. Lemar's old voicemail message rings through his ears in the seconds before he can no longer hear it.

The bomb doesn't explode necessarily, at least not in the way one would expect it to.

Instead when it explodes it just screams.

This time the instinct to cover his ears wins out as John curls up to take as much cover as possible. Eyes firmly slammed shut he can no longer see but he can hear. Boy can he hear.

The screams are indistinguishable, clearly multiple people layered on top of one another in agony and pain. He thinks he might be screaming too but that is separate from the explosion of sound.

The screams cut out suddenly, the entire space goes back to dead silence. It's over so quickly he's almost unsure it actually happened.

As shocking as the screams stopping are it's nothing to the realization that there is a shield on his arm. With his arms by his face he can feel the extra weight of it and the cold metal touch the side of his face.

Opening his eyes he looks down toward the shield in surprise, only to see that is is covered in blood. The thick liquid is practically dripping off the sides.

He jumps up to standing trying to take the shield off, but it's like it's been soldered on. No matter how hard he pulls on it, it just stays in place.

That's when he notices the limp arm out of the corner of his eye. It's his brother.

John knows too well what someone looks like when they've been beat to death with a shield. When he lifts his gaze to see dozens of people dead on the ground, the cause of death is pretty apparent.

His brother, his sister, Lemar, Oliva, Lemar's parents and sister, several old battle buddies, and pass that the team. The Thunderbolts, all splayed out on the ground, looking like they didn't go down easy but that he still managed to beat them.

His entire body is made of ice, every part of him feels cold and chilled to the bone. His hands come up to his face and all he sees is the deep deep red that should still be in his loved ones bodies.

---

John wakes up pretty suddenly. No gasping, no screams just a very abrupt alertness and usually when sleeping on his back he's sitting up before he can even process what just happened.

This time though he is sleeping on his front, so when the nausea hits the panic of throwing up in the bed that they're all sleeping in is what gets him up and moving.

The bed is situated very close to the bathroom, but with the blankets and pillows scattered everywhere still, he almost trips on his way there. Not even processing the way both Bob and Yelena turn to see him stumble through the doorway.

Vomiting post dreaming is never a pleasant experience. In fact, it's so unpleasant that it got voted worst post-nightmare reaction by the team. He even got a paper gold star for it taped to his bedroom door. Thankfully it doesn't happen super often, but it does happen. Especially post dreams like that.

The main event of it all is over fast enough, but just before he can go to flush and wallow on the floor he remembers in a flash the one image. The shield in his baby's crib. Which hits him hard enough with disgust that he has to throw up a little bit more.

All the adrenaline and energy firmly zapped out of his body, he ends up not flushing yet, just letting his head fall back against the cabinet to the side of him.

There's a slight knock at the door, and through squinted eyes he can see Yelena standing in the doorway. She doesn't say anything as she walks in, simply walks over and flushes for him. Grabbing his arm to get him standing using the sink as support and handing him a cup. Taking a sip he rinses his mouth out before downing the rest.

"You look like shit." She says as he drinks in her perfect deadpan.

"Gee thanks."

"Go ahead and take a minute, we have those crackers you like in the main room for your stomach."

He doesn't say thank you but he does give her a tap on the shoulder before she leaves the bathroom, which is close enough.

Looking in the mirror proves that as usual Yelena's observations were accurate, he does in fact look like shit, and he really wants a drink or a chew. Unfortunately for him, he can't get either but he can get crackers, and decent coffee. Both of which will at least work for now.

Before he walks out of the bathroom he can hear Bob's raised voice from the other room, "Oh by the way, Bucky figured out that you took the coffee machine from the Watchtower."

He sighs loudly before lightly letting his head hit the counter top. He's never gonna hear the end of this.

---

"No, we are not looking for an axe throwing place just to make sure we're banned." Bucky sounds exasperated as Ava fixes up the bed to her liking. Grabbing the pillows from the other one in the room to add more padding around her like little walls, ones she hopefully won't accidentally phase through.

She turns and simply raises an eyebrow, the news of her idea apparently having reached the other room. Which if she plays her cards right might increase her chances of success. Bucky just points at her with his 'stern leader look' as if in this specific case she'd listen to him of Lena. Unlikely but he shakes his head anyways, going back to texting someone on his phone, so she rolls her eyes before going back to what she was doing.

Walker likes to say she's nesting, she likes to call it getting comfy.

"I think axe-throwing would be fun!"

"I know Alexei. That's unfortunately part of the problem. "

"Sounds like you might get outvoted on this one Bucky."

"Not if any of you get any sense between now and the next 16 hours."

She rolls her eyes again as she crawls into the bed, disappearing into the bedding. Snuggling in she starts to close her eyes.

"Wake me if you need anything, or if I'm about to phase through the floor."

Just before they fully shut she sees a big hand give her a thumbs up from just above the blankets.

---

Ava is familiar with the feeling of dying in a way that no one else ever really will be. The pain of being ripped apart and put back together on a molecular level is something that is hard to quantify, and even harder to try to explain to someone else when it is basically all you've ever known.

There has only been two things certain in Ava's life for a very long time. One was that she has nothing in this world, just her and the pain. The second was that if there was ever a way to make the number one thing go away she would do anything to make it happen.

She has a lot of regrets because of number two.

There is desperation to her movements, phasing through wall after wall. It should hurt but she doesn't really feel it hurting her. Instead it hurts because she knows that it should be. She isn't stable, and the constant push and pull is exhausting in a way she had gratefully forgotten.

As she is constantly phasing she sees these, moments, between each wall and each spike of phantom pain. Things that she recognizes in just seconds as things she did in the effort to get a cure.

Her first SHIELD kill, her last one, a lot of the ones in-between, finding out about the quantum tunnel, stealing the lab, threatening to kidnap Scott's daughter, and so many other horrible things that cannot be taken back. She was dying, slowly and painfully. But is that really an excuse?

She hits a wall that she cannot phase through with a thud, falling to the ground as she is forced into coming to a stop.

It takes her a second to get off the ground, the suddenness of it all shocking her into stillness for just a moment. When she finally does get up it doesn't take her long to recognize her surroundings.

At first glance it looks just like a normal house, but the longer she looks around the more she sees what it actually is. It's a safe house, the one she was living in with Bill for the few months they were together after the quantum tunnel stuff went down. There isn't much to see; brown walls with the marks of cigarette smoke sweat coming down from the walls, creaky wooden floors that give a little at even the lightest touch, with dark curtains covering up every window. It wasn't a pleasant place to stay, a far cry from the tower in which she lives in now.

It was home for a little while, the closest she had post her parents dying and pre the formation of the team. Of course it was never meant to be long term.

There's just something off about the entire place as she looks around, a small whine in the back of her head telling her that something is deeply wrong. Bill is nowhere to be seen.

She takes a second look around, looking in all the places Bill would have been if he was here. The old somewhat stained couch was empty, and so was the tiny bedroom in which he would normally be sleeping. It isn't until she reaches the kitchen that she finds him.

The scene is too familiar, and the thought of it hits the bottom of her stomach like she just ate a ton of rocks. Bill is standing at the stove cooking eggs, they had gotten a late start to the day that morning. They were going to move safe houses, they were waiting to hear more from the Pym van Dyne's and Lang.

It was just a normal morning, or it was supposed to be.

She feels rooted in place all the sudden. The most solid she's ever been. Bill turns around to face her and before he can even say his normal gruff good morning he's falling to one knee.

Turning into dust right in front of her while she can do nothing but watch. Ava wants to scream but she can't, she doesn't know how in this moment of shock. She can't help but wonder if this is how he felt watching as her body tore itself apart and back together, but his body isn't forming back just falling apart.

There's a clank of metal behind her, and as she whips around to see what it was she sees that somehow the team is here too. The clank of metal being Walker's shield having hit the ground. All of them turning to dust with no way to fix it. The looks of confusion as she does nothing but stand there and watch.

Yelena reaches out to her before falling into nothingness. Bob looks resigned down at where she would have landed before doing the same. Bucky's face is carefully blank but staring directly at her until there is no more face. Walker was already half-way gone when she turned around and Alexei is trying to hold what is left of the team up before they all become a mixed pile of grey particles.

She's now well and truly alone. No one to watch as she hits the ground herself, not dusting like the rest of them but phasing in and out as she sobs. The loneliness filling her entire body with a deep numbness that she can't understand as she has never had the chance to feel it.

When she phases through the floor it feels like she is dropping into hell. Instead she is just dropping into her father's basement.

Laying splayed out on the floor she looks to the side to see something no one should ever have to see in her parents bodies. There is yelling coming from the floor above as the firefighters she knows are coming clamor down the stairs, their boots making the loudest stomping noises she's heard in the aftermath of such a great explosion.

---

Thankfully she wakes up before her mind decides to delve any deeper into that, but it takes a moment for Ava to process that she is awake. That it was all just a dream.

Her arm is halfway through a pillow, and she can feel the wetness of tears on her face. It is a mercy that she didn't fall through the bed or the floor.

As she pulls her arm up out of the pillow, she can't help but curl up even more as the tears continue to fall. She has been told there is nothing to be ashamed about when it comes to crying more then once by various people on the team, but every time it happens she can't help but remember how her training officer reacted when she cried due to the pain. She is working on it, but it is slow progress.

There is a voice, one she is not used to hearing be this gentle coming from the floor beside the bed. The edges of the Russian accent, as he does not talk to be heard but to just be there.

"Bucky had Mel go check on Alpine and the pigs while we are here. They've been texting a lot more have you noticed? I wonder is Mel is helping with the whole no connections to the American government. Anyways, apparently the animals are fine, well fed and everything as they should be but the coffee maker is gone. She seemed very confused by this from what I overheard in the phone call, poor солдат though just sighed so loudly and told her not to worry about it. I think he is waiting for Walker to wake up before he asks him about it. In that way of his where he knows you did it but he wants you to admit it yknow?"

Alexei continues to ramble on as he sits beside where she was previously asleep, moving topics fluidly as can be. Waiting for her to be ready to speak, or get out of bed but not pushing, and it's that that helps the tears slowly start to dry up.

Flailing a little bit she turns the direction he is sitting, she takes the opportunity to throw her hand onto his shoulder in a desperate bid to prove that she is solid and here. He to his credit doesn't even flinch. Just reaches up with his opposite arm to hold her hand as he talks more about Lena's guinea pigs and how he thinks they need a better cage.

It takes another couple minutes of this before she can interrupt his spiel. Voice cracking slightly as she talks.

"Thank you."

"It is no problem. Do you need help getting out of the nest?"

Great, Walker's nickname for her habit is getting around.

"No, I'm good you can go back to the stakeout."

He gives a solid nod before patting her hand twice. She moves it away as he uses the nearby wall to stand. She thinks she might even hear his knees pop, super soldier serum or no he's still getting old.

---

Bob doesn't have high hopes about making it through his sleeping shift without nightmares. He never really has high hopes for making it through even short naps without having something happen. But the moment he hears Walker bolt from bed for the bathroom he realizes that there is absolutely no way any of them are getting through the stakeout without at least one nightmare.

There's just something in the air, something really really stressful that's catching both groups. He knows this because, post Bucky revealing his coffee machine discovery and pre Yelena making a joke about calling the axe bar she found on google three blocks from here ahead of time to see if they'd even be let in, Alexei had to step away from communications to help Ava wake up from the nightmare she was having.

He wonders if in the other room Bucky can also feel what's coming and is dreading it as well.

Yelena looks at the timer once she's full sat back down and back in stakeout mode. He looks over at her, already knowing that she's going to show him something and exactly what that thing is. The timer, paused the moment they heard Walker get up, is at exactly four hours, not even a single second overtime.

"How do even his nightmares adhere to his internal clock?"

"Honestly, I think he just has time powers. There can be no other explanation."

"There is no way American military training is this accurate and rigorous."

Walker appears like he just spawned in right next to them, also looking at the timer on the phone.

"It is, but also I didn't need it for this aspect I was for some reason already like this before hand."

As if controlled by the same puppet master, Bob and Yelena can't help but turn and stare at him at the same time. Walker just holds up his hands as if to proclaim an innocence he doesn't have.

"Alrighty Bobbert," Walker says, patting him on the shoulder, "it's your turn, get some rest."

Bob ends up giving up his seat, heading towards the back of the room with a hesitation that the other two thankfully either don't notice or don't call out. Removing the handgun from the nightstand and gently placing it within the weapons pile in the room, he is once again going to re-situate the bedding.

"Bucky's sleeping next right?"

"Yeah this was Ava's shift, why?"

"Cool cool, let me know when he goes to bed and then I will hop on coms."

"Are you really this desperate to not be confronted."

"Absolutely."

Overhearing the conversation leads to great background noise, and Bob cannot help it as he smiles just before falling asleep.

---

When the team is out fighting on missions Bob is typically either still back at the tower, packing up the remains of what makeshift base they had on sight, or waiting in the car. It's a safety thing.

It's odd to find himself just on the sidelines as the rest of the team fights.

He doesn't really understand how he got here but there really isn't time to question it in-between him watching them all be amazing.

They are amazing is the thing, in their own individual ways. He watches as Bucky moves with a knife as if he's never been without one in his hand, as Alexei laughs like he's actually having fun while fighting three different people at once, Ava as she phases in and out of everything dizzying opponents without even trying, sees John duck weave then attack with a ferocity only he has, and of course he sees as Yelena takes down person after person without ever a pause. A deadly grace he's only seen in her.

The fight seems to be going well, and while he can't take his eyes off of the team he does notice a few things just because he's in the room.

After a long time of being paranoid of your surroundings you don't really notice when you start to categorize exits from best to worst. Which is exactly what he starts to do in this abandoned warehouse looking place, there aren't many but he notes that there's one behind John and then one presumably behind him.

There is a catwalk above them, rickety looking and rusted. That must be why no one is on it to shoot down at them, something he finds very grateful for.

It all seems to be going well! Until he notices that the hoards of people swarming the space aren't slowing down. That for every one guy the team takes out, it's like three more rush up to take their space.

He starts to run in, to help or to stop all the new people coming in from seemingly all directions, he's not sure. Only to discover that he really wasn't as close to the fight as he thought he was. What felt like a short few meters turns out to be several dozen. Instead of this stopping him at all he picks up the pace, just runs faster and faster.

It feels like slow motion when he sees Bucky hit the ground. Bob himself almost stops in place as he watches it happen, but for as much as he hesitates it also convinces him to run faster.

He's picking up speed when Alexei goes down, Ava not far behind him. The space feels like it is continuing to expand no matter how fast he runs and in a moment of desperation he tries to pull on that fire that's in his gut as well as the back of his head. Flying would surely make him get there in time to help get them out of this.

Walker and Yelena are fighting nearly back to back at this point, pushed together by hoards of enemies. Their fellow fallen teammates at their feet, trying to keep them from being trampled.

The flashes of gold aren't coming. He tries harder to pull at it, wishing for once that those too high highs would come to him when he needs them. The power he wants, needs, to feel now rather then later is stubbornly refusing to come to the surface. Even as he runs directly into danger.

When John falls he knows it's now or never. Yelena is incredible but a room of seemingly a hundred armed combatants with no backup and her entire team downed around her, while she's already exhausted, she's still human. Bob isn't.

Or at least, Bob shouldn't still be. Instead of the fire creeping in he can feel the cold. The darkness, slipping into his hands and feet.

His arms are swinging in front of him, he can see the inky black starting to reach his elbows. He tries to push it away, knowing that the Void cannot help in this situation, not here not now. Really he should know better, pushing the Void down only causes it to grow stronger.

His arms are completely shadow at this point, but he feels as close to the battle as he assumed at the beginning. His lungs should be heaving for air, he should feel exhausted in the body but instead it's his mind that is exhausted.

The last thing he sees before the void entirely overtakes him is Yelena falling to the ground next to the rest of both their friends.

It is silent in the darkness, not in the way he typically enjoys where even in the absence of sound you can feel movement from the world in the air. No this is the dead silence of a graveyard, not a single breath or movement from another soul, just crushing grief.

It isn't until he is able to turn around that he understands why exactly it is so quiet. When he turns he sees the streets of New York City from above, the massive grid system filled to the brim with people.

Except it isn't filled with people right now, instead it is filled with nothing but shadows. Shadows of people who are now in a hell of his creation. He never means for this to happen, even in his worst moments he doesn't think he would ever wish the pain of being forced to remember on anyone. Not when it is a pain he is so intimately familiar with.

Much like what happens to himself, Bob has no choice but to stand there and just watch the darkness take over. As the city that never sleeps is forced into what could be a permanent slumber. At a certain point it isn't even darkness, it is just absolute nothingness.

---
Bob is honestly a lot surprised when he startles awake. He's usually pretty surprised when he wakes up especially from dreams involving the void but this time especially as there's hand on his shoulder. It's not shaking him around or anything, it's just there and when his eyes adjust he realizes that the hand actually belongs to John.

John who he is delighted to see even for a split second cause it means he isn't dead.

"Hey, Bob-tart? You with me?" He asks, clearly trying not to crowd into his space despite standing over the bed. Removing his hand as he talks.

It takes him a second to really get his bearings, but once he does he's nodding while pushing himself up into a sitting position. Noting the lack of Yelena in the room.

"Alright, sorry to do this just after you woke up but we think mission is now a go. Yelena is scooping it out right now." That's when Bob notices that John is clearly much more geared up then he was before, the coffee machine in the corner has been emptied out and unplugged, and the laptops by the windows have been shut off.

"Would've let you sleep but you uh," he pauses for half a second, "you weren't havin' a good sleep anyways. So."

John steps back from the bed to give him room to get off of it the sheets now having that awful sticky with sweat feeling. John's hand goes up to the small case they keep the coms in besides the bed.

"Here, should be fine for you to listen in and if you want to start packing up the rooms I managed to swipe this," He holds out a key-card, similar to the one for this room but all the way at the other end of the hall, "from Bucky earlier so."

"Thanks, I'll get on that."

He nods once before heading towards the door and stopping. "You gonna be good? Cause if not just say the word."

Normally he would immediately brush this off, tell him that everything is perfectly fine and that he should go. They've been trying to teach him otherwise now, that he doesn't have to just pretend and go with it. He actually stops and takes stock for a second.

"Just. If anything goes wrong you guys will call me right?"

Walker blinks for a second, as if he caught him off guard. "We'll be alright I promise, but if somehow something were to happen we would call you."

That's all he needs. They give each other a quick nod but just before John can fully get out the door Bob can't help but call out. "Bucky's gonna talk to you about the coffee maker mid-fight yknow?"

John groans loudly just before the door shuts and he can't help but smile. Nightmare pushed to the back of his mind for later as he gets to work moving the bed back into the right place in the room.

---
Bucky was familiar with feeling like you're never going to be able to sleep at night. It's a fact of his life, that he has had more sleepless nights then he has had birthdays and he's over a hundred years old.

They don't talk about it as much as they probably should, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the horrible sleeping habits that they all have. Everything with this team is a work in progress, slow moving and hard earned progress. Just like his mission to start actually sleeping through the night.

Lately that mission has been slowly falling down hill, but as he has been told time and time again progress isn't always linear. It feels and sounds like bullshit the first time you hear it, and the second and just about every time the sentiment is relevant. He's working on that too.

By the time Ava is able to get out of her bed arrangements, Alexei is already back on task with watching the building. He hears her step into the bathroom and the sink turn on, likely her splashing some water on her face to cover the tear tracks. Something they've tried to tell her she doesn't need to do but it makes her feel better so who are they to judge.

Creatures of habit, all of them.

Over the coms he hears the slight panic when Walker wakes up, and while it isn't a surprise it does cement the dread in his stomach. Guess he's going to have to wait before giving his 'please stop taking appliances from the tower on missions' talk.

Ava slides in next to him and pats him on the arm, and as much as he really doesn't want to he can feel his eyes trying to close on him already. So he takes the signal for what it is and has her take control of his spot.

He doesn't even bother deconstructing the entire bed again, just pushes most of it to the side before sliding under the blankets, the quiet of the room not suffocating but also not comfortable. He slips into slumber regardless before Alexei and Ava can break it.

---
The congressional floor is a deeply scary place to be standing, not because of the history or even because it's a lot of pressure. No, the scariest thing about it is all of the eyes on you, who those eyes belong to. Political pawns and chess masters alike. A game Bucky never learned how to play properly because the thing that sets him apart from the rest of the room is just how much he cares.

It doesn't matter how much he tries, Bucky Barnes will always find himself on a battlefield even if it's one of words and carelessness instead of explosions or aliens.

The House of Representatives had a lot of faces in it that he was never going to get familiar with, and each and every one of those faces were staring at him now. Blank, and empty. Unlike usual because everyone in that building has opinions on even the most asinine things. Completely uninterested in what he is saying, assuming he's even saying anything which he knows he just was. Waiting for their judgement, but on what?

There is a presence behind him, and when he turns to see who it is he actually finds five people instead of just one. The team, his team. The New Avengers or more accurately in their discussions and group chats The Thunderbolts still.

To say they look rough is an understatement. It's more then scrapes and bruises it's full on gashes and broken armor that hints at broken ribs. Each person's eyes are downcast to the floor, in exhaustion or feeling the judgement from the room he's unsure.

They're all in handcuffs. Strong ones by the looks of it. The way they would have been if he had brought them in that day instead of teaming up with them. He wants to reach out to them, demand medics for their injuries so they don't bleed out onto the floor but he's acutely aware that he has no power here.

His arm aches where it is attached to the shoulder, reminding him just which side of the room he's standing on. The side with the accused.

When he turns back around the House is gone. Instead in their place is two very familiar faces. Dressed in similar patriotic garb with the same shield held between them. The Shield. Held between them.

Both Captain America's stand before him, in their prime. He wants to reach out to them too, but when he tries his arm won't follow his commands.

They look conflicted, unsure if they should condemn the people he has become so attached to on accident. Bucky isn't even sure of what they're being accused of right now, but he knows in his heart that his team would never have done something heinous enough for this judgement.

His hand reaches out but instead of it being to the captains or his team, it's up to his face. There's a metal mask attached to it. He is no longer standing at a podium in a government building but instead over many many corpses.

The team is gone. So are the captains. Instead it is just him. Him, those Russian code-words singing in the back of his head, and many many dead bodies.

They stretch out for miles in all directions, no matter where he looks. There is blood everywhere staining him entirely in a shade of red he used to find pleasant as a kid but now will never be able to see the same way again.

It doesn't feel like him when he starts running in a direction. It's like something else made that choice for him and he is left floundering while pushing himself to the limit. Trying to get as far away from here as possible.

There's a tree line in the distance, and he knows immediately that is what he is aiming for.

He almost trips over someone's arm or leg once or twice. Slipping in the bloody mess underneath them but not fulling falling over. Catching himself last second and pushing forward.

He was expecting a forest, or maybe some sort of cabin when he pushes through the tree line. This is decidedly not that. As when he pushes through the trees, smacking limbs out of his way and trampling over bushes, all he sees is a snowy field.

A snowy field with copies of his arm strewn about as if dumped there. New and old versions, titanium and vibranium, red star and golden lines.

There are dozens. No. hundreds of them. Just laying in the snow. Some of them still have weapons in the clenched fingers, remnants of blood both on the hands and on the joint at the top. As if they had been ripped from the body instead of regularly removed.

It shocks him into place. No longer running away from something but instead running into something else. His feet slide slightly in the fresh powder of the snow as he comes to a stop.

He doesn't even feel like he is breathing, the only way to tell for sure that he is is the soft smoke from his breath gently floating into the air. As if it doesn't understand the gravity of the scene in front of him.

There is just so many of them, everywhere he looks. He almost turns around to go back to the field of corpses, at least that he understands. But when he turns around the tree line he just came from is gone. Instead it's just more field, more arms.

---
It isn't as often as it used to be that he wakes up not remembering who or where he is. He knows it used to happen a lot, back when freedom was fresh and new. But right now as he bolts up from the hotel bed trying to breathe those very simple concepts are slipping his mind.

He knows the person standing next to him though, she appears in what must be milliseconds once he's awake. Phasing through all the other furniture in the room to be at his side. Lightly grabbing at both arms to try and ground him.

Ava. Her name is Ava. He trusts her, she's on his team.

There must be some sort of sign on his face, something that is telling her what's wrong because before he can ask she's already talking.

"You're name is James Barnes, but everyone and their mum calls you Bucky. It's 2026 and we're in Michigan on a mission."

Bucky. Right, his name is Bucky. The world that was before very narrowed in starts to zoom out a little as he remembers. The momentary lapse falling to the wayside. He isn't quite meeting her eyes at the moment, still trying to catch his breath. She ducks under him a little to try and catch his eye, see if he's still out of it or not and must determine otherwise before speaking again.

"You alright? Would some water help?" It's not so much her asking if he wants the water as much as it is her asking if he'd be ok while she goes and gets it. He nods quickly, knowing that even if he won't be alright that she'll be back in literal seconds compared to anyone else.

He's proven correct in this as she phases through the wall to go get the water. As she does he takes just a moment to count in his head as he breathes. Slowly but surely getting back to a normal rhythm.

Ava is back as soon as she had left, a paper cup in hand as she presses it into his. Waiting until he has a firm grasp on it to let go herself and not unsubtly watching as he takes a drink from it.

When he's finished he hands the cup back to her and she stands up to go throw it away, and that's when he notices the room is empty.

"Suit up?" He asks, thankful there is no croak to it.

"Suit up. It's the other building and we got a few minutes but Yelena has already gone ahead to check it out. Walker and Alexei are only a bit behind her and it's our turn next."

Always another fight, but he's a lot more grateful about it then anyone would think.

---

The mission goes as smooth as it can, and for that Bucky is relieved. No one on the team is seriously injured and the job they came to do was accomplished. However, and Bucky is secretly relieved about this too, they aren't able to terrorize the area any longer then they have already. Due to the fact that part of the building exploded, no fault to them, they had to get airlifted out of the city back to New York instead of spending any more time in Michigan or being forced to drive back a day later.

Every one else seems equally as relieved despite no extra activities in the city once they get back into the tower. Collectively all semi-collapsing into the main living room esc area of the space. Battered, bruised a little bit, and messy as all hell.

No one is really talking, just sitting and laying in silence as they all catch up with the events of the past twenty four hours. That is until Ava starts giggling to herself.

"What 're you laughin' about?" Walker mumbles tiredly from where he is sitting in the chair next to the couch. Lightly moving his hand to smack her gently on the knee.

Ava only laughs louder, as the rest of them watch on.

"Oh no," Yelena jumps in from beside her "she's cracked. She's lost it." Interrupting herself with her own laughter part way through.

"No. No. Just." Ava starts to say, breathless and wheezing. "You guys should have see this one guys face when I came through the wall."

"The one who fell over or?" Alexei sounding confused asks.

"No the one next to him. He had these big bug eyes I thought." She snorts. "I thought they were gonna fall right out of his head."

She pantomimes the way his eyes apparently bugged out, lifting her hands to circle her eyes with her fingers and making some sort of noise that can barely be made out from her laughter.

He doesn't know if it's the sleep deprivation, the stress of the world around them, or even if it's actually funny but the entire room also bursts into little giggles and booming laughter. The type you can't stop even when the joke is over.

By the end of their collective fit Yelena, Ava, and Bob are all partially collapsed on one another and John has fallen out of the chair onto the floor. Alexei is holding his stomach as if it hurts to laugh and Bucky himself finds himself swiping tears from his eyes.

The room is quiet again, the sounds of traffic from the city that never sleeps the only noise other then occasional left over laughs, but this time instead of it being filled with tension it's calm. Nice, even in a domestic way, if your version of domestic is way way skewed.

"We should probably go to sleep." Bob says, cutting off his own left over laughter after a few minutes.

"Probably." Someone else in the room agrees, but no one moves.

"To sleep, perchance to dream." Bucky finds himself mumbling without realizing. Freezing when it hits him what he just spoke aloud to the room and looking up to find the rest of the room frozen as well.

It isn't a secret what happened during their shifts, even if they wanted it to be they are now far too close to ever have it full be a secret when the nightmares creep in and ruin their days. They don't talk about it, not now. Maybe in the daylight when things are more easily visible.

For now, John gets up and pulls the coffee machine out of a duffel bag, wandering back to the kitchen to plug it back in and start another pot. No one gets up to change or shower or anything. Alexei turns on the TV and starts playing a TV show, one he liked watching re-runs of during his time in Ohio that he had been introducing everyone to. One about the Korean war.

"Just one episode and one more cup of coffee. Then we go to bed." He says, and no one disagrees.