The good feeling I got from Clint's visit lasted about ten minutes. I got dressed and took some Advil, hoping to make my hangover less bothersome. As I reached for a water bottle to wash the pills down, I felt a dreaded pain in the back of my skull. I dropped the bottle and pills, inhaling sharply.

"Not again," I groaned and dug my fingernails into my scalp. I swore loudly and slid down the wall, the pain only getting more intense.

After several long, long minutes, the headache subsided, and I stood shakily. I took the water bottle and my phone, and left my room. Starting to grow more worried about the headaches from hell, I headed for the lab. When I reached it, Tony and Bruce were working on something that required them to be speaking very loudly.

"If you suggest that one more time I'm going to knock you over the head with a wrench," Tony said casually.

Bruce smiled and chuckled to himself. "Oh you don't want to do that."

"Yeah, yeah, screw you," he grumbled and turned back to his work station.

I walked past them to my own desk and set my things down before sitting down. Yawning, I typed in my password and started checking my emails.

"Hey, Cara," Bruce called.

"Hi."

"Good morning, sister!" Tony bellowed and my head began pounding even harder.

I grimaced and waved angrily at him. "Tony, why are you always so goddamn loud?"

Tony's jaw gaped slightly. He sprang out of his chair and ran over to my desk. "Oh no, is Cara a little hungover?"

"Leave me alone," I grunted.

"Whoops, my bad."

"Shut up." I turned in my chair and leaned backwards. "Hey, Bruce."

"Yeah?" He looked up.

I hesitated. "Is it, I don't know, bad, if I've been getting migraines since the little week long coma thing?"

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. "Well I wouldn't think so. I mean it's unexpected, but understandable. How often are you getting them?"

"Oh, not that often. Like twice, maybe three times," I lied.

"You're all good then. You've got nothing to worry about," he assured me.

I smiled briefly and thanked him before turning back to my computer. The more I thought about what was going on with me, the more stressed and anxious I got. I couldn't decide if I was extremely angry or extremely sad. I was leaning towards both.

Bucky killed your parents. He is the reason you and Tony have been alone for fifteen years. You should hate him.

Damn devils advocate.

But I can't hate him. It wasn't his fault. Hydra made him do it. It wasn't him.

But he still did it. He stood there and watched them burn.

"Cara!"

Tony's voice snapped me out of bickering with myself.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were bringing a date to the New Years party next week."

"Oh," I muttered. My eyes started to sting, and I cleared my throat to try and hide it. "Um, no, I don't think so."

He furrowed his eyebrows at me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said thickly. "I-I need some air. I'll see you guys later." I stood quickly and rushed out of the lab.

Tears blurred my vision, and I wiped them immediately. I flew towards the elevators, and passed Steve on the way.

"Cara, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," I responded weakly.

He grabbed my bicep as I passed and looked down at me concernedly. "Cara-"

"Steve, I said I'm fine." I tore my arm from his grip and continued down the hallway.

I smacked the elevator button and rushed inside when it opened. Leaning up against the back of it, I started breathing faster, and my mind was racing. The doors opened to the lobby, and I bolted out those and the main doors. I started walking down the crowded street, slowly losing control of my emotions. The freezing December air didn't even faze me; neither did the drizzling rain.

I didn't know where I was going, my feet seemed to have a mind of their own. It started raining harder, and soon I couldn't tell what was rain and what were tears. I wove my way through the oblivious tourists and prissy businesspeople, earning many dirty looks and annoyed scoffs.

After God knows how long, I found myself at the gate of a small church in a quiet part of Manhattan. I opened it and walked behind the building towards the church's cemetery. My legs numb, I made my way towards the familiar protrusions from the earth. I dragged my hand across the top of the tombstones slowly. Wiping my eyes again, I fell to my knees in front of them. Mud squelched under me and soaked through my pants, but I ignored it. My hand shook as I reached forward and traced the inscription.

Maria Elizabeth Stark
Beloved wife, mother, daughter, and friend

"Hey, Mom," I whispered. "I know it's been a while, I'm sorry." I swallowed the stupidity I felt and squeezed my eyes shut. "I-it's times like this when I wish you were still around. I could really use some maternal advice right about now."

I bit my lip as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"I don't know what to do," I cried, hugging my chest. "I'm so overwhelmed, it's like I'm drowning. A-and I'm scared. I-I-"

My voice broke and I let out a ragged sob.

"You always told me that I would find my soulmate one day. That when I kissed them it would feel like a million fireworks going off at once. I remember asking you if that's what it felt like when you kissed Dad and you laughed. Y-you said every time you kissed him felt like the first time." I shivered. "And I think I found that, I really do."

I paused and took a deep breath. "But you never told me what to do when it gets difficult. You always made it sound like once you found someone that it would be easy. But it isn't. It is the complete opposite."

The wind picked up, and I suddenly became aware of the goosebumps that covered my body.

"I guess I'm just wondering if caring about someone is enough," I whispered. "Because I feel I'm meant to be with Bucky, but everything else is telling me to drop everything and run. And I just don't know, Mom."

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

I whipped around, and found a man with dark hair and small, round glasses standing there, holding an umbrella. I quickly wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and stood up.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"You don't sound fine."

I furrowed my eyebrows, finding it odd that he had said sound, not look. I started to say something, but stopped when I saw the thin white cane in his hand.

"I've had a rough day," I said quietly.

"We've all got those," he nodded. "Do you have family here?"

"Yeah," I swallowed and folded my arms. "My parents."

"I'm sorry."

"It's been a while," I shrugged. "But thank you. What are you doing here?"

He smirked. "Going to confession like the good little Catholic boy I am."

I smiled slightly.

"I don't mean to be nosy, but I heard what you were talking about," he took a small step forward. "My dad used to say stuff like that about my mom all the time. He's buried here too."

"Oh. Where?"

"Um, under the big oak tree," he responded. "It's about one hundred twenty steps from the gate."

I looked towards the tree that was several feet away from me and walked towards it. A lone gravestone peaked out of the ground near its roots. I crouched down to look at it.

"Jack Murdock," I read. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," he smiled. "By the way, I don't think you should give up on that guy."

I hesitated. "You don't?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I don't think you should be stupid, of course. But if you have a gut feeling that it's meant to be, go for it. It's probably gonna be hard and take a lot of work, but I'll bet the end product would be worth it."

I shifted my weight and thought for a moment. "You really think so?"

"I do."

"Thanks."

He smiled kindly. "Well, I've got to be going. It was nice meeting you."

"You too," I said, and he turned and began to walk.

"Wait," I called and went after him. "I feel bad, you just gave me some really good advice and I don't even know you. At least tell me your name."

He turned back to face me for a second. "I'm Matt."

"Okay, then. I'm Cara."

"Goodbye, Cara."

"Bye, Matt."