It was just a few minutes after 5:30 am, and the sun had not yet risen above New York's skyline. Instead the sky was a gradient of purple, as the light approached this side of the globe. Despite it being in the middle of June, the morning air was crisp and cool. The atmosphere of it all was seemingly peaceful, that is if Steve Rogers wasn't retreating to the secluded rooftop of the Stark Tower to escape his own burdening thoughts.

The super-soldier's golden hair was a disheveled mess due to his restless lack of sleep over the past week. In this private moment, the stoic nature of Captain America was gone, but instead replaced by a very fragile and perturbed man. His usual broad shoulders were slumped loosely, and his confident brilliant blue eyes were dulled as he gazed downward. He hadn't felt this deprived, physically, since he had watched his best friend fall off a train and into a mountain ravine.

Looking out at the dark yet also illuminated cityscape below, he couldn't help but remember. He remembered the first time they had all come together to defend this very city more than six years ago. A lot had changed since then, but the city remained, rebuilt from the destruction. Stronger than before.

As Steve sat on a box like structure that he was pretty sure somehow stored an air condition unit, he looked down at the city. The morning breeze that made his messy blonde hair move gently, brought a sense of peace to the soldier, even if that serenity was minimal.

He couldn't stop thinking about the last twenty four hours. After returning back to the tower, just as he came in he saw Bruce at the door with his luggage, his brow covered with sweat. He explained to the Captain that he was going to have to find a hotel to stay at for the next couple days. Steve didn't get the exact details of what went down in the tower while he was gone, but Bruce said he was leaving for a matter of safety.

Steve later presumed this was due to Tony's actions. While Steve and Tony hadn't had a confrontation personally, he got the sense that Tony wasn't handling Clint's death well. He tried to give Tony some privacy, to cope and handle on his own. Steve told himself that this was what Tony needed. But, he would overhear Tony in his workplace, blasting rock music, and even over the music he would hear the occasional clang of metal parts, being thrown across the shop in an act of rage.

He also experienced times where he almost walked into what sounded like Tony and Pepper fighting, Pepper's voice was passive but stern, but Tony's was frenetic and frustrated. Steve wouldn't meddle in their relationship, but the empty bottles of various types of alcohol that Steve would occasionally find around the tower also worried him. But the most unnerving thing Steve noticed, was when he overheard what sounded like someone softly crying in Tony's workroom last night.

He decided he would try to talk to Tony sometime today, but the truth was Steve felt very helpless. He didn't know how to make Tony feel better, he didn't even know how to make himself feel better. That's why he came up here, on the isolated windy roof of the Tower, to try and clear his head.

From the time the sun was nowhere in sight, till it began to slowly rise above the horizon, Steve sat quietly in thought. Half the time his head lowered against clasped hands, in deep reflection over the events of the last week. He thought of another time he came up on this roof, following his release from the hospital after he fell off a helicarrier and was pulled out of the Potomac River.

His face was still bruised from the fight between him and his best friend. However that morning, his mind was clouded with the conflict on whether to pursue his friend, or not. Of course he knew he had to, but he also realized that the rest of his team may not agree. That he could lose the family he shared this tower with, if he went after Barnes.

It wasn't shortly after Steve came up, that Clint Barton also found himself on that roof. Clint had come up here more often than even Steve, because the archer had found much peace in the elevated isolated setting. In the months that followed his slow recovery from Loki's control, Clint had spent hours up here, and sometimes Natasha accompanied him as well. Steve could remember the days when they were still just dating, that they would spend their nights up here after long missions.

But now Steve remembered clearly that one morning. Clint stood and leaned against the railing around the roof, his grey blue eyes looking out at the city below before giving Steve a grateful smile as he thanked him for keeping Natasha safe during SHIELD's fall. Steve went on to tell him everything. Parts of what happened, Clint had already heard from Natasha, but his wife had also neglected to go into detail about The Winter Soldier's evolvement in it all.

It was during that conversation that somehow Steve let slip his conflict about what to do regarding Bucky. While he was expecting Clint to possibly get defensive, instead the thoughtful archer offered his simple opinion.

"He had no idea what he was doing, that was HYDRA's actions, not his..." Clint had said.

"But I don't want to drag everyone into this, Stark would never agree."

"Then don't, go solo. Or take just a few of us, I'd be up for tagging along. But you can't let the government decide his fate. If we imprisoned everyone who did crimes when they weren't in control of themselves, I wouldn't be here."

After a brief pause between the two, Clint continued,

"Having your mind messed with, I mean it's hard. Your friend needs you, because you're probably the only one who can help him."

"But Clint, you do know what he did to Natasha...?"

"Yeah, I was the first to get to her when she was hospitalized for that gunshot wound in Iran. One of the worst wounds she's ever had, but she told me about her attacker as soon as she gained consciousness."

Steve still remembered the passionate yet subtle worry in Clint's voice, because at the time Natasha was still recovering from her latest gunshot wound from The Winter Soldier.

"But, I would have killed her while I was under Loki's control if she hadn't hit me over the head. Who am I to hold what your friend did against him, when I indirectly caused Coulson's death? Go after him, Steve."

Steve grasped the railing of the roof, looking down at the now lit city below. The sun had finally rose, as Steve remembered Clint's words. That conversation suddenly became more of a distant memory as Steve remembered seeing Clint laying lifeless in a casket several days ago. Running a hand over his face, Steve's new dilemma was on how to pull the team through this. While in theory the Captain always figured if something like this happened, they would pull through together. But in reality, the team's loss was starting to divide them all.

It was as Steve was staring out at the blue sky above the horizon line, and a crisp breeze blew over him, that he turned around to the sound of the staircase to the roof's door opened. Steve was surprised to see Tony emerge from the stairwell, and walk towards him.

Tony avoided Steve's eye contact, but if it weren't for his hardly noticeable insecure gestures, he would have looked completely normal to anyone else.

"Hey Tony..." Steve said in a cautiously soft tone, unable to read what Tony was feeling.

Tony gave Steve what looked like a forced "I'm okay" smile, as he approached Steve and asked,

"What are you doing up here?"

"Couldn't sleep I guess. And you?"

"Well you aren't the only one. But no, I've been up for awhile, it's just I thought I'd bring you this..." Tony said as he held out Steve's cell phone.

"You might want to return that call," He said in a slightly sharp voice.

Taking the phone, Steve felt his heart sink in regret as it said Missed Call: Natasha Romanoff. Gritting his jaw, frustrated at the fact that he indirectly blew Natasha off, he quickly dialed her number and placed the phone to his ear.

After a few rings, Natasha's voice rang over the line,

"Steve?"

"Hey Nat, I'm sorry I missed your call, are you ok-"

"It's, it's fine Steve don't worry..I'm okay I just...."

There was a pause and Steve didn't say anything. He figured she was just trying to figure out how to say, whatever she needed to.

"Could you come over, I...there's a lot..."

Her voice trailed off as she spoke, but her words were spoken in defeat. Steve wasn't sure the last time he had remembered Natasha ever calling out for help, and he realized how much it took her to call for his help.

"You don't have to explain, I'll head over now. Just hang in there, okay?"

"Okay," she said in such a quiet and forlorn tone, that Steve couldn't help but worry that she was all alone.

"I'll be over soon."

"Thank you."

Lowering his phone after she hung up, Steve almost forgot Tony was still there. Looking up at him, Steve assumed he wanted to know what was going on and so he said calmly,

"That was Natasha."

There was a pause as Steve looked down, and said with his head still lowered,

"I told her I'd be right over, you should come too. I think she could use all the support she can get."

"No, I think I'm good. Group "therapy" isn't really my thing." Tony said indifferently.

Nodding to himself Steve said "okay" under his breath, as he proceeded towards the door. But as he was about to walk down the stairs, he turned back to Tony as he said suddenly,

"You know, we can't let this tear us apart."

Turning his head sharply towards him, Tony's tired eyes met Steve's as he calmly tilted his head and sunk his hands into his pockets.

"What exactly are you trying to get at here now, Rogers?"

Taking a few steps back towards Tony, Steve spoke confidently but also calmly, as he was trying to come across as supportive, even if he would slightly fail at doing so.

"You've shut us all out, Tony. You don't have to do this alone, you know. We can't pull apart in a time when we all need each other."

"Maybe I don't need anyone else. Maybe, I want to be alone. After all, this doesn't seem like the time for team get togethers. We all need time off."

"Pepper's worried...your behavior drove Bruce out. Natasha probably thinks you're indifferent to all that has happened, even if she won't say it."

Tony's hands formed into fists at his side, as he turned sharply towards Steve and said, the smallest hints of sarcasm fading suddenly as he spoke coldly,

"You have no idea how I feel. You don't know what Bruce is feeling, or Natasha, so don't act like you have all the answers. And don't make assumptions about me and Pepper either, because that has nothing to do with this."

There was a pause between the two, as Tony turned away, expecting that to be the end of the discussion. But Steve stood firm, as he took a few steps even closer to Tony and saying in a passive yet still gentle voice,

"We've fought through a lot together, but we'll get through this together too."

"You see, that's the issue here..." Tony remarked in a perturbed voice.

Steve stood still, as Tony turned to face him directly. This time Tony wasn't hesitant to look Steve in the eye, and as he did Steve found himself not wanting to hold his gaze. Tony's eyes were bloodshot, and cold, yet tired, and Steve was beginning to regret making him even more upset.

"How long did you think we could keep this invincible hero act up? Sure, it was all fun and games...until someone got hurt. We can't just go back now, and put on that heroic act again. It doesn't work like that."

There was a tense moment of silence between the two. Steve lowered his head, thinking of what he could say to argue back, but he didn't want to argue. But Tony continued,

"You can preach all you want about us sticking together, but the reality is, we'll never be together again. We'll never be the team we used to be, so don't act like we will be."

"As long as we stick together, we'll always be a team."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Steve suddenly lost pity for Tony, despite knowing he was in a rather unstable position. He glared at Tony as he took a step even closer, the two practically at each other's throats as Steve said defiantly,

"Barton didn't give his life for one of our own, just for all of us to give up what we've had for six years now. He wouldn't have wanted this."

"Barton's fucking dead, he can't "want" anything anymore."

"Doesn't matter, you know he wouldn't want this from us."

"Yeah, well, maybe he should have thought about that before recklessly charging into every mission, guns blazing, oblivious to what could happen."

"He wasn't any more reckless than any of us," Steve challenged.

"No, he wasn't. But he wasn't a god, or a super soldier, or a hulk. He didn't have armor, or a shield. We all knew he would push himself at times. Well he pushed himself too far this time."

"He held his own with us, he was more than capable of fighting with the team. It could have happened to any of us, there's casualties in war, you know that Tony."

"But we all knew he'd be the first."

Steve felt his own jaw tightening, his blue eyes growing sharp, and he heard his heartbeat in his ears. He felt a heat of blood rush to his face, as he said boldly,

"You've got some nerve to talk like that. He was our friend."

"He broke this team."

Steve took a step towards Tony, arm raised as if he was going to let his fist hit Stark's face, but instead he exhaled slowly and lowered his arm, saying in a now authoritative voice,

"Have some damn respect, Tony. Don't blame Clint for any of this, he couldn't help what happened. If he could, he would have never have left Natasha. He would have never left us."

Looking away from Steve completely, Tony said finally, his voice was hurt and cracked as he spoke,

"Well, that doesn't change the fact that he did leave us."

Steve walked away without another word. As he turned to shut the door behind him, he saw Tony's head fall into his hands, but he shut the door and kept walking anyways. It was as Steve made his way downstairs that he ran right into Pepper, who frantically asked, "Where's Tony?"

Steve directed her towards the rooftop, and just as she moved quickly in that direction, Steve caught sight of what Pepper had found. The cabinet of alcohol that was half full the night before, was empty. As Steve left the tower, he began to regret his anger towards Tony, especially as he reflected back on what just happened. While Steve was occupied by his rage, at the mention of Clint, Tony's eyes would dart downward insecurely. He wasn't handling his emotions right, but Tony's words came from a place of great grief for his friend.

Steve also began to think, that even if it was mostly the alcohol talking, that Tony had a point. The answer wouldn't be as simple as just sticking together, and nothing would be the same, no matter how much Steve would like to believe otherwise.

-

There was a gentle knock on the door as Steve stood outside the apartment. The air was still, but dark clouds in an unsaturated sky preluded the fact that rain was soon to come. Steve waited for only a moment before the door slowly opened.

Natasha didn't have time to address Steve before she was putting a hand back, as if to hold back the dog. She was so used to doing so, because Lucky would usually always run outside at any chance he had. But as soon as Lucky saw who it was at the door, he just lowered his head onto his paws, uninterested in getting up. Natasha looked at Steve as he smiled sadly at the dog, as he came in.

Natasha watched as Steve kneeled down next to Lucky, and softly stroked his coat. Lucky didn't seem to notice.

"Hey Luck." Steve said softly, as he pat his head before standing up.

Natasha tried to smile to show her appreciation of Steve coming over, but her smile was restricted, and her sad eyes contradicted any optimistic gestures she tried to make. Steve put a hand on her shoulder as he asked,

"You okay?"

"Yeah...I mean no, but considering everything..."

Steve nodded gently, as he watched her stutter, unable to formulate her thoughts. The fact that she couldn't carry a conversation spoke to Steve the extent of which she was suffering, because Natasha was the most punctual and well spoke person he knew.

"You're holding on...that's the only thing you can do, right?"

She only nodded half heartedly, eyes still avoiding Steve's.

Steve noticed the apartment was considerably cold, so cold Natasha wore a black jacket over her black tank and pants. Her hands trembled slightly, and while Steve wasn't certain that was because of the cold, he figured the cold wasn't helping. Steve walked over the to the thermostat, as he looked to Natasha and asked,

"Mind if I?"

She shook her head, and he turned the air condition down. Natasha only stood in silence, and so to initiate a conversation Steve asked,

"Did you have breakfast?"

"I had some tea, if that counts."

Steve opened the fridge to find it empty besides a half carton of eggs and several bottles of Budweisers. It was obvious then to Steve that Natasha hadn't placed any priority on eating over the past few days she had been home, and that she probably didn't even have food in her apartment. He knew she hadn't gone out to get anything, because the eggs were one day expired, and she didn't drink Budweiser, that was always Clint's drink. Steve was close enough to the two to know that.

Pulling one bottle out and opening it, Steve said as he walked to the door,

"You know what, I'm going to run to the store real quick and get you some food to last awhile. If you'd like to come..."

Natasha slowly walked up to him, shaking her head as she said hollowly, but her tone was tired, almost too tired to object,

"You don't have to."

"No, I do. We look out for each other, you and I," Steve said devotedly.

-

Steve returned an hour later, and for a quiet twenty minutes or so, he and Natasha calmly put away everything. The heavy grey clouds casted a darkness over the apartment, and as they worked Steve remarked casually, trying to initiate a conversation,

"Looks like it's going to rain."

Natasha stood up from where she kneeled near the cupboards, and her thoughtful green eyes looked outside.

"I hope it does. I don't think it's rained once this month," She spoke, but her voice was distant. As if she was only speaking to speak, but her true thoughts wandered aimlessly far from here.

After a while Steve told Natasha to sit down, because her every movement was lethargic. Natasha didn't even argue, as she fell back into a chair, her posture loose and slumped, as if she couldn't even sit up straight. Steve warmed up a mug of hot water for her, and as she steeped another cup of tea, the soldier attempted to cook for her. The bitterly cold apartment was suddenly warmed by the heat of the stovetop, as Steve cooked bacon and eggs. There wasn't much talking between the two, but instead the crisp sizzles of cooking bacon, and the sweet savory smells that filled the kitchen area, brought a sense of life back into the apartment. Even Lucky wandered away from the door and into the kitchen, pacing around Steve's heels, eyes keenly looking for food.

Steve attempted to try and make pancakes as well, but when the recipe started calling for him to use an automatic whisk, he defeatedly admitted that he had no idea what that was. Sliding off the barstool, despite Steve's protests for her to stay seated, Natasha came over and showed him such "advanced" cooking technology. After assisting him, she stayed to continue to help cook. Her nimble fingers worked to add hints of brown sugar and another sweet spice, that she told Steve would taste very good.

After the batter was made, Natasha helped guide Steve's hand when it came to flipping the pancakes. Steve somehow wasn't surprised that she had perfected the technique of flipping the pancakes so they came out golden and cooked evenly on both sides.

But as the two sat down to eat, Natasha about blew Steve's mind when she told him that there was such thing as frozen pancakes, that warmed up in about a minute, no mixing or batter making required. Somehow the two got off on talking about seemingly random things, but Steve was hoping this would happen. It was an odd but somehow effective way of having her escape from everything for a few minutes. As the two talked about how cereal, of all things, had changed so much since 1945, Steve slipped Lucky a piece of bacon. Natasha shook her head and somehow smiled at the sight as she said,

"You're just as bad as Clint. He would slip Lucky the worst sort of things, pizza, cookies, you name it. I doubt I'll ever be able to break that dog of the whole begging habit."

Her tone was less forlorn, but there was a tightness to her voice that indicated that what she spoke still hurt to think about.

Steve gave a small smile as he leaned down to pet the dog, as Natasha regressed back to a reserved silent state. Steve pretended to be preoccupied as he waited for her to talk again. He was willing to wait as long as he needed to, because he knew he couldn't force her to say what she needed to. She would open up to him in time.

Standing up to clean both of their plates, Steve was pleased to see Natasha ate. Natasha waited until Steve was behind her in the kitchen, before she spoke up quietly,

"I tried cleaning out all of his stuff this morning. I thought if I could get it all out of here, maybe it would make living here without him a little easier."

Steve stopped moving, and waited patiently for her to continue, and she did, slowly but her voice distant,

"I wanted to be ready to move on, but I didn't even know where to start."

Steve walked back over slowly, and pulled a chair to sit in front of her. Before he could say anything she continued, looking down and away from him,

"I was overwhelmed, because even if I remove every reminder of him, it won't make a difference. This was his home before it was mine, and any attempt I make to move on seems wrong."

"It's not wrong to move on, Nat."

"No, I know. It just feels wrong. I just don't really know what to do now."

"I don't know either," Steve said in defeat. For once the valiant Captain had no answer or guidance.

"I need to move on, I know that. But no matter what I do, this will always be our home. Except it's just mine now."

Steve's head was bowed and his jaw clenched, as he tried to find the right words to say to his very unstable friend.

"Have you ever considered moving out then? I mean you could come stay with me for awhile."

She shook her head sharply,

"No, I'd never leave. Like I said, this is my home."

She turned her head towards him, her gestures soft but her eyes pleading for help she finally looked him in the eye and said,

"I just can't do this alone."

Steve leaned forward in his chair, and slowly so not to be abrasive, wrapped his arms around her. While her posture was stiff, she loosened under his hold, and wrapped her own arms around him. Leaning into him, she relaxed and closed her eyes, as she exhaled slowly. She let her whole body fall into his for support, and somehow she found comfort in his embrace. For awhile they just sat there, until Steve quietly whispered,

"You don't have to be alone."

Steve could feel her head nod, as she held onto him even tighter.

To Be Continued...