You woke the next morning like you had done so many times before; in Steve's arms, burning hot because he couldn't keep his furnace-like metabolism on his own side of the bed, the light of day peeking through the curtains just enough to pierce through your closed lids and force you awake. For just a split second, you forgot where you were, jolting up from his grip in a flash of panic. It had happened every day that you were gone after you were allowed control of your own mind again, and you had hoped that being in your own home would have spared you this. When you rested your head to your pillow last night, and Steve's arms were holding you with a resolve to not let you go, you had believed that the paralyzing fear would be gone.

"Hey, what happened?"

Shallow and rapid breaths were your only reply while you tried to bring yourself back into reality and not the sick joke that your mind was playing on you. "I'm home, I'm home...I'm home," you muttered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could push the images away; covering your ears in the false belief that it would shut out the voices and the words that terrified you to your core. Words that you could never hear again; words that would make you the kind of weapon that only Steve could stop.

"Honey, you're okay," Steve urged as he sat up next to you, keeping his arms around your waist in the hopes that the connection would help. "Yes, you're home, and I'm here."

"I know...just...give me a minute..."

"All the time you need," he reassured, leaning in and resting his head against your shoulder while he waited. His own mind was still in the haze of broken sleep, but it was racing beneath the cloudiness, at a loss of what to do for you. In usual Steve Rogers fashion, he immediately made a stop at blaming himself before making the turn to angry rage at those who had done this to you. Realizing that rage only brought more trouble, which had been so clearly proven by his own actions with the team, he instead decided on pain and fear; pain at what he was seeing, and fear of what it actually meant.

"I thought this would stop once I came home," you began quietly, opening your eyes and dropping back onto your pillow, "but I guess I was wrong."

"Does that happen every morning?"

"Yeah, and when I get stressed, middle of the day just for fun, if the room's too dark..."

His heart dropped into his stomach at your revelation, and his own memories of nightmares and panic barraged him. He couldn't focus on that right now, however, gently shaking the thoughts from his mind. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"It'll pass," you nodded. "Now that I'm home and with you guys again...it has to."

"Give yourself time, (Y/N), and whatever you need, I'll make it happen. I owe you so much..." he stopped, gently kissing your bare shoulder, "I'll do anything you need me to, I promise. I'll never hurt you again."

"I know, Steve."

"You know what's strange?" he continued. "I spent so much time begging you to forgive me and needing you to come back, and now that you're here, I can't understand why you did."

"Okay...yeah, I'd say that's strange, for lack of a better word."

"No, I mean...I don't get why you would forgive me and come back after the mistakes that I've made. I suppose somewhere deep down, I didn't think you actually would."

"Do you want me to change my mind?" you snickered quietly, turning to him with a gentle smirk. It was an immediate change in him and his mood, shifting before your eyes from worry to just a hint of humor; you had to tread carefully, however, as to not let him off the hook so readily. "You're going to have to land the plane on this issue, Capsicle."

"Did you just..." he gasped, releasing you to slap a hand over his heart, "I'm hurt, babe. I can't believe you hit me so low."

"I can't believe you sent me off to brainwashing summer camp."

Steve's mouth hung wide and his eyes were full of shock, immobilized as he stared at you in utter disbelief. "I...I don't...holy shit," he finally whispered shakily, "I don't know if you're joking or not."

A tiny click of the handle that separated your room from the triplets stopped your reply, leaving your answer hanging between the two of you almost uncomfortably until you let Steve relax just slightly with a quick kiss before standing to meet the little one who was trying to sneak in. "Come on, I thought you knew me better than that."

"Mama, I awake."

"Hey, baby," you smiled brightly, hopping down to meet your girl at the center of your room, "are your brothers awake too?"

"Dunno."

"That's okay, let's go check together." You took Brooklyn's tiny hand in yours and felt immediate peace, in glaring difference to the fear you had experienced only minutes before. It was a reaffirming touch that cemented the decision you had made that this is where you needed to be.

Steve watched the two of you make your way into the nursery, still looking just as shocked as he had been before you left his side, waiting for you to sooth his mind about what you had said but nothing came. "Hey, (Y/N)," he called out behind you, tossing the blankets aside with a frantic urgency and scrambling to his feet to give chase, "seriously, I still can't tell!"

~~~

"I broke my leg getting stepped on by a real Avenger..." Scott mouthed quietly as he read the words Bucky had left behind in huge black letters scribbled lazily on the full length of his cast, "come on, man, really? You got hurt too! You got shot!"

"But I'm a real Avenger. That's expected."

"I'm a real Avenger too!"

"Don't worry, Tic Tac, we know you are. Buck's just giving you shit," Sam added with a slap of support on Scott's shoulder. "But on the scale of experience, you're like...a baby Avenger. You've got some growing to do yet, pal."

"I've been Giant Man! How much more growing can I possibly do?" he argued. "You were the Tic Tac then, Sam. I could've plucked you out of the sky. Still might."

Sam hissed under his breath at a sharp stab in his side when he laughed, pushing a hand against the pain to try to calm it without much result. His laugh faded into a small cough that only made him hurt more; he cursed quietly and returned to his bed, pushing slowly into it until he could finally relax and try to breathe a sigh of relief but failing when it just elicited more coughing.

"Hey, Wilson, you gonna die?"

"No, Barnes, sorry," he groaned, "you're stuck with me. I do appreciate the genuine concern, though. I'm touched."

Bucky scoffed at his friend's words and stepped back to double-check his handiwork on Scott's cast, nodding in approval with a sharp final snap of the cap to close the marker. "I wasn't going for concern, dumbass. If you die, I totally want your room." The shuffle of feet and giggles drew his attention from the banter and he quickly stood; if any of the kids ran into him too hard and he winced in pain, he didn't want to make them think that they had hurt him. "There's my little troublemakers!"

"Hi Unkie Jims," Grant answered first, running into his legs with a thud just like he had anticipated. "Up?" He raised his arms expectantly with a wiggle of his fingers in excitement, but his face dropped quickly when Bucky turned him down.

"Sorry, bud, I can't. But I should be all healed up by tomorrow and then we can play as much as you want. Deal?"

"Ugh, kay..."

"Come on, don't be sad," Bucky pouted with him. He knelt down carefully and wrapped an arm around his godson to pull him in tight for a whispered secret. "I have some of Uncle Clint's arrows in my room, but don't tell him, alright? I know you like to light those up, dontcha?"

"Ya I do!"

"Then that's what we're gonna do, little man! But you have to help me remember to bring the fire extinguisher this time," Bucky pointed with a stern look. "We don't want Papa yelling again, now do we?"

"No way, Unkie Jims. I help you 'member."

"Hey, how are you guys feeling?" Steve said and made his way around the room to each of his friends one by one. "Getting out of here today, right?" You watched him give each of them a full head-to-toe look, albeit skeptically, making sure that even if they said that they were okay he would be able to believe it with seeing it himself. It would be a long time before the Captain would forgive himself for how the mission turned out, and how he was the only one to walk out unscathed. It would be a long time before he would lead again by the time that his soul was no longer so shaken.

"Yep, out today," Clint smiled, hopping down to meet him, "and you're done punishing yourself, right? No more of that bullshit in your head is there?" He readily took his crutches when Steve held them out, giving him a curt nod of thanks before making his way to see the trio.

"All gone," he lied, "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Really, Steve?" Bucky snapped. "After all this time you think we can't tell when you're feeding us a load of crap? It doesn't take a shrink to see that your head's a mess. Listen, you didn't force any of us to go, alright? We did this for (Y/N), not you, if that helps. We wanted to and knew this could happen. Move on, man."

"It's not that easy-"

"Daddy," Anthony interrupted, pulling on Steve's leg, "up."

He looked down at his boy with a finger up to halt him, "hold on, Bug. Buck, I know that you've all said that, but even you know what this is like-"

"Daddy, up now pwease."

Steve sighed and reached down impatiently, swinging Anthony up and onto his hip. He expected him to stretch his short arms around his neck as he always did just to hang on, but instead felt his son's hands rest on his cheeks. "Anthony, no, Daddy's okay, you don't have to-"

"Just let him do it, Steve," you urged quietly, "he wants to help you."

"But I don't want...I deserve this..."

"Alright, that's enough. It's time for all of us to move on from this," you scolded your husband without care to the group looking on, "you're so readily asking me to do it, but you can't for yourself? Let your son help you because even he knows it's the right thing."

Steve turned his head towards Anthony, making it easier for him to reach; the boy's blue eyes took on a vibrant sparkle as he connected with his father, feeling his own sense of relief at being allowed to help. "Bug..." Steve murmured, feeling the change in his mood already beginning, every muscle in his body starting to relax. If his reflexes weren't as lightning fast as they were, he could have dropped his son at the shift. "You're such an incredible boy, you know that?"

"Okay now?"

"Yes, Bug," Steve sighed, "I think I'm getting there."