You, Steve, and Tony all sat together quietly, your chairs facing each other but avoiding each other's eyes with a fierce determination to keep the distance present between you. It was the last place that you wanted to be, but with Bucky and Natasha sitting on the other side of the door and likely armed, none of you felt that arguing with them was in your best interests. The duo had all but forced the three of you into the quinjet for this trip to London to meet with Steve's therapist, and even though he hadn't worked with groups such as this before, he couldn't turn it down when Bucky explained everything that had happened to bring you guys to this point. He knew of Steve's PTSD but he had no idea that it was such a prevalent problem for all of you.

"Steve, would you like to start?" he asked gently, nodding eagerly to encourage him to begin.

"No."

"(Y/N)?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay," he sighed, turning to his last hope of compliance, where it was least likely to be found, "Tony? Is there anything that you'd like to say to get us going?"

"I don't believe in therapy."

"Great," he clapped his hands almost joyfully, "now there's something that I can work with."

~~~

"Well, I haven't heard any shouting yet, so it must be going okay," Natasha whispered, nudging Bucky gently with her elbow to get his attention. He had been sitting completely silent since the door closed behind you all, almost eerily statuesque as he waited for you to return. He had originally been a reluctant member of the team when Steve had first brought him to them, and never in a million years did he think that he would ever be in a position to command a team, let alone tell any of you three what to do. It was unsettling to him, and more than anything else, his fear of making a wrong decision was haunting his every moment.

"Mmm hmm."

"This was a good idea, Barnes. They won't stay mad at you forever."

"Right," he answered with a quiet snicker, "but no one's told them yet that I sent the kids to a therapy group on the other side of the country for the next month. They aren't my kids, Nat. This could either be a good thing that Steve and (Y/N) will agree with, or they'll never let me near those three again."

"They know how much you love those kids, Buck. They're going to thank you." All he could offer was a reluctant smile and a sideways glance to acknowledge her, but she couldn't mistake the sadness in his eyes even in those few seconds. Natasha took the leap and reached out for his hand, resting hers over his metal one despite knowing that contact with it still bothered him to this day; if she was going to support him, she wanted him to know that she fully meant it. "What? What is it?"

"It's nothing," he answered quickly, pulling his hand away.

"It's not nothing."

"Leave it alone, Nat," Bucky warned, standing up in a huff but casting a quick look towards the receptionist who thankfully didn't seem to notice the raise of his voice in the tiny room. "Look, there's enough crap going on here without adding more drama, okay? The last thing that I wanna do is add one more thing onto the shit pile."

Screw you!

You've already screwed me so hard that I can't walk straight anymore!

Nat hurried to her feet to stand at Bucky's side, both of them jolted into attention at the sound of a building fight in the next room. When she took a step forward to make her way in to break up whatever was starting, Bucky jutted his arm out and grabbed around her waist to hold her back. The yelling continued and the voices grew louder, but it didn't sound at all like the therapist was trying to stop it. Eventually, the three voices of their friends had blended together into unintelligible sounds, and then suddenly...they stopped.

"Take me home, now!" you angrily burst through the door, slamming it so hard that the handle was impaled into the wall to hold it open. "This was a terrible idea, Buck. I know that you meant well, but to do this together was destined to blow up in our faces."

"(Y/N), please, don't go," the therapist urged, following you out. "Sometimes the only way to get through pain is to expose yourself to more, but it won't always be that. The three of you need to be open about what happened."

"I know what happened," you hissed, pointing at him with a rage in your eyes that took him aback, "so don't you act like you know better than I do. You weren't there. You didn't feel it. You don't feel it. So just back the fuck off."

Bucky released Natasha and turned his attentions to you, making a quick note that neither Steve nor Tony had emerged from the room yet to support you in any way despite seeing how upset you had become. "(Y/N), it's okay. We can go if that's what you want." He crossed the lobby slowly and with purposeful steps, taking your hand in his to lead you to one of the chairs; Nat watched his pained expression shift to one of concern and then to relief as you agreed to let him guide you without argument.

"You see, this is what I mean," Steve interjected, appearing suddenly in the doorway, "he's always the first to jump to her rescue anymore. Doesn't even give me a chance to do the job that's rightfully mine."

"Steve, you're being ridiculous," you argued, "he's my friend...he's your friend. Of course he's going to want to help."

"You even said so yourself, that the two of you worked together better than you and I ever had," he continued. "Now I think that I can see why. Maybe you didn't miss me as much as you said you did over those two months."

Bucky released your hand and turned to Steve, his eyes wide and full of hurt at the insinuation that he would be acting in any way other than as merely supportive. "Woah, Steve, you've got this all mixed up. I only stepped in to help because I knew that you were going through you own stuff and needed the time to work through it. I didn't want you to worry that (Y/N) and the kids weren't being taken care of back home."

"Yeah, you took care of them real nice, didn't ya?"

"Steve, just shut up," you snapped, standing again and moving to face him directly. "I've told you, Bucky's told you, Nat's told you...hell, even Scott has told you that he was just doing what he thought that you would want him to do. You're overreacting about nothing. I was trying to be sympathetic to your needing time to yourself, and Bucky saw that I needed the same, that's all."

"You sure seem like you held it together pretty well. How was it so easy for you to get back to normal life so quickly?" Steve pushed, and you could sense the aggression in his tone getting stronger. He was trying to pick a fight, and it was completely uncharacteristic of him to do so. Tony had now stepped up behind him and pushed his way through the door, leaving the three of you in much the same position as you had been when you were seated together moments before.

"I didn't get back to normal so quickly. I'm still not there."

"Could've fooled me. Hell," Steve scoffed, "you've already been back to work like nothing even happened."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"No, but you sure look like an asshole."

Steve's jaw set tight and he stood up just a bit straighter, his posture clearly showing that he was ready for this argument with you; it had been brewing for days now since you had left for the mission with Bucky without so much as a care to his objection to it. He knew full well that you weren't ready, and he knew that you would lose control of yourself, but you didn't listen to a word that he had said in warning; now you had no one to blame but yourself, and he was almost basking in it. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but cold, his tone deeper and ominous in a way that sent a stunned silence through the room around him. "You didn't even want her."

"Steve!" Natasha gasped, but the therapist quickly raised his hand to stop her from saying any more. His eyes were trained on the two of you, eagerly watching the situation unfolding.

"How dare you?"

"What? You said so yourself, (Y/N). You wanted the work more than you wanted her. Or did you forget that already now that you have your way?"

"I was scared of having another child, Steve, and that was before we found out the problems that she would have. But you? You could've saved her. You destroyed the only chance that we had because you're too goddamn arrogant to see any way other than the one that you think is right. If it's not your plan, then it's not an option."

"I'm not the one who let her die!" he shouted at you, but his hand shot up and pointed accusingly towards Tony. "That wasn't his call to make!"

"Hey, you told me that it was okay because you couldn't do it yourself," Tony shot back, "so don't go flipping shit on me now just because you're losing an argument!"

"I'm not losing the argument, Stark. I've lost a hell of a lot more than that!"

"Yeah, like your sanity," you added hastily. The room filled with moans and gasps of shock at your words, but you took a step back when you caught his fists clenching shut in your peripheral vision; for the flash of a second, you actually believed that he might strike out at you even though he never had before in a moment of anger. That wasn't who Steve was, but this was a broken version of your husband that you didn't dare trust too willingly. "Go ahead," you spurred him on, "you know I can handle you."

"Guys, this is getting out of hand," Bucky tried to break in, stepping between you and Steve, "let's just calm down, alright? I think your emotions are getting the best of you here and you're not thinking clearly anymore. You're supposed to be supporting each other and helping each other get through this, not trying to rip each other apart. This was no one's fault, you guys. Why can't you see that?"

"They can't see it just yet," the therapist joined in, "but this is how they'll get there, Mr. Barnes. Despite their methods, this is finally opening up how they really feel, and from here, they can begin to work together to repair the damage. Up to this point, they've had destructive coping because they were trying to do it alone. For three people who rely on each other so much for so many things, I'm very surprised that they've pulled so far apart."

"More therapy bullshit," Tony snorted.

"Tony...he's right," Steve agreed, albeit reluctantly. He took a deep breath and looked at you, doing his best to actually see you; he hadn't done that since you both lost Maggie, since he became lost in his own grief, and now all he could see was your disappointment and pain. Being the cause of much of that was more than he could take, and it eviscerated him to think about how you had struggled and he all but ignored you; he swore to never hurt you, but now that's all that he was doing.

As each second after that ticked away in silence, his posture sagged and his resolve to stay angry began to crumble right before your eyes, so much so that you worried that he was going to drop to the ground from the shift that you were watching happen so rapidly. His eyes filled with tears and his lips quivered, but you could tell that he was trying to hold back; you didn't know if it was for your sake or for his own, but it didn't matter. Seeing him so clearly breaking in front of you was enough to take you down with him.

"Steve," you whispered, hurrying to his side, but the touch of your hand on his arm finished the process; his legs gave way beneath him despite your attempt to support him. Kneeling down next to him allowed Steve to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you in, and you could feel the river of tears now falling as they dropped onto the skin of your neck and wetting your hair and he sobbed into it. "Honey, I'm still here."

"I can't forgive myself," he mumbled, struggling for words, "I left you...I'm so sorry. I just couldn't..."

"I know, Steve."

"I don't deserve your understanding."

"None of us deserve what happened," you sniffled, trying to keep your voice about you despite its determination to crack, "but we'll be okay. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"Pfft, I've heard that before," Tony scoffed, turning away and towards the door. No one stopped him when he passed by the two of you, nor did anyone interfere when he made his way out of the building and onto the sidewalk just as it began to rain on him in a heavy downpour. He lifted his face towards the sky and took it in, as if he were trying to wash this whole experience from his skin, trying to rid himself of the pain and drama that had engulfed his once happy family. You watched him silently, but you couldn't give your focus to him right now. You and Steve were finally, just barely able to communicate, and you didn't dare let that opportunity go; even if that meant that you would have to let Tony go in the process.