"Second son of Rogers, you're not even giving it your best effort," Thor snickered at the infant that he had laid so carefully on the floor next to Mjolnir. "Your mother can wield it, therefore the likelihood that you might is great. But we will never know if you do not try."

"Thor, may I ask what you're doing?"

"I have explained the importance of this to both Brooklyn and Grant thus far, and this one gives me the same response. They don't even have to lift it," he sighed, "maybe just a little nudge."

Vision took a few steps into the nursery quietly, pushing the door closed gently but quickly behind him to shut out the loud music of Clint and Nat's reception. Thor, Vision, and Wanda had offered to watch the group in shifts so that everyone could celebrate, but Thor was finding his turn to be a failure thus far. "If I could assist you, these three human children have yet to develop the cognitive ability to understand language nor do they have coordination or muscle control required to purposefully attempt to lift the hammer."

"Hmm, you would seem to be correct," Thor agreed. "Perhaps I will have to wait until they are ready, but I'm not known for my patience. I had the hopes of gaining an answer before Steve would be able to find out, because he historically 'has no chill' according to Sam, though I have no idea what that actually means."

Vision sat motionless as he took the words and processed them for their meaning, picturing the Captain and attempting to correlate the phrase with his persona as he had come to know it. "Does it pertain to his body temperature in some way?"

"That could be a possibility." Thor leaned back and raised his hand to his face and slowly stroked the rough hair of his short beard. "According to the stories as I have been told, he was submerged in a frozen body of water for approximately seventy Earth years. That could be the chill in which Sam is referring."

"Ah," Vision perked up, "and because he has been free of his submersion for several years now, he is no longer struggling with that extreme shift in his thermal regulation. Therefore, he now has no chill."

Thor emphatically nodded in agreement with a sound slap on Vision's shoulder, smiling widely at their success. "We make a good team, you and I. The Rogers offspring are fortunate to be in the company of our combined wisdom."

~~~

As predicted, Clint and Natasha had their small wedding just as they had wanted and it had gone off without any tragedies, explosions or abductions of the groom; the reception had now been going on for hours with no end in sight. Even with the festivities surrounding you, to say that you were distracted would do a disservice to how you were really feeling, but thus far you thought that you had done a descent job in keeping it to yourself. Tony had kept a very close watch on you, as did Steve, but you would never allow the dark reality that you had been thrust into to risk ruining your friends' day.

Tony kept catching you when you were alone, sneaking quick conversations and sharing private moments between the camaraderie of a team that desperately needed to let loose. The two of you should have been joining in, and you did, but not as much as you would have liked; you had plans to make and no time to make them, so stolen seconds at the bar or as you watched your friends dance gave you the opportunity to work. Even the one dance that you shared together was filled with murmured talk of strategy.

"When will T'Challa be here?" Tony asked with a smile, doing his best to give the outward appearance of a partygoer. "We leave in two hours."

"Any minute now, but you know that when he shows up, this isn't going to be a stealth operation anymore."

"Great, your hubby's about to cut in. Should I let him?"

In an automatic reflex, you sucked in a tight breath and stopped, nodding after realizing that this might be the best time to tell him what you were planning with Tony; in a room full of people...and witnesses.

"Alright, Stark, I haven't had a turn yet, hand her over," Steve's deep voice echoed over the music that filled the room. "I know that you two are up to something over here, so I think it's time to break this up."

"Don't know what you mean, Cap. Just talking to my girl."

"Mmm," he replied in a murmur and with a skeptical eye, "we'll see." Steve grabbed your hand and wrapped his other arm around you to pull you in and start to move around the floor, leaving Tony to wait for your yet-to-arrive guest. His movements appeared calm and methodical from the outward view, but you felt the strength in his grip holding you in place so that you couldn't run. "Spill it, (Y/N). You two have been huddling in corners all night, and not to say that I don't trust you, but...well, I don't. And don't try to talk your way around it."

You had been caught before you had a chance to just tell him on your own; damn him for being so perceptive. Or maybe, you weren't as stealth as you thought you were, but either way, the conversation was here. "Tony and I leave in two hours. We're going to find where they left her and bring her body home for a proper burial."

"I knew it," he hissed, though his expression remained soft in the presence of guests, "I can't believe you. Do you think you're just going to stroll into wherever she is and expect them to hand her over? And even if you do get in, how do you know that they still have her for you to take? Don't even get me started on the fact that you're walking in there as the one thing she was trying to keep away from them."

Steve stopped for a moment, realizing that his voice was growing louder with each sentence; he took a breath and formed a smile again, looking down at you softly as to not draw further attention and began again with a softer voice. "They executed her, (Y/N), for treason. You can't tell me that they're going to respect her after she's gone."

"I don't expect that at all," you replied, glancing around him to see Tony finally greet the man you were waiting for. "We'll be ready."

"What about our agreement, (Y/N)? Did you forget that? Here I am, feeling guilty for just talking to the team about missions, and you're going to suit up and run off to one? How the hell do you expect me to be okay with this?" Steve pushed you back slightly with your hand turning in his to spin you to the music before pulling you back in, "were you even going to tell me?"

"Of course I was," you snapped, "and I don't expect anything, Steve. But try to understand, I owe her this. All of those years, she was just trying to protect me, and in the end she was protecting our kids too and she paid the price for us. You have to let me do this, but don't get me wrong, I'm not asking permission."

"I can't believe that Tony's okay with it."

"You know that he won't let anything happen to me, especially now more than ever."

Steve didn't say anything more for a long while as you danced, leaving you questioning if the conversation was over. Each time that you looked up at him, he looked away and avoided the connection. The song changed to a slower tempo and the lights dimmed but he didn't release you as you expected him to, not taking advantage of the natural timing to split. Instead, he wrapped around you tighter and pressed his lips to your hair, taking a long breath as if committing the moment to memory. You shuddered beneath the touch of his hand, lightly rubbing your back and moving to rest on the back of your neck with a ghost of a breeze from his fingertips leaving goose bumps down your spine.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

You were certain that he felt your entire body relax with his words and the realization that he had given in to the fight. You were so relieved, in fact, that you almost said yes just to have him close, but you were able to stop yourself before uttering the words that you were sure that he wouldn't let you take back. "No, this is something that we have to do on our own. Besides," you sighed and pulled back enough to look up at him, "I don't want you to see me like that."

"Like what?"

"Although," you deflected, leaning again to look just past him and towards T'Challa, "you might actually enjoy the new suit. Come see." He readily took your hand to lead him with an eager look in his eyes to see just what the King had brought for you. Steve's eyes grew wider with each footstep and you thought you heard a whistle of excitement from him when the garment was fully in view.

"That's yours?"

"Hello again, (Y/N)," T'Challa interrupted, leaning in for the hug that he loved breaking protocol for, "I hope this is to your liking." He lifted the suit up in front of himself and smiled, appreciating the stares of Tony and Steve as they admired its details. "The Vibranium woven through your suit is not nearly as dense as it is within mine, but it will protect you very well. It should fit you like a second skin to maintain flexibility and movement."

Steve reached out and ran the material through his finger tips, pulling it closer to inspect the faint shimmer of metal imbedded in the cloth. It was smoother and far more flexible than he would have imagined, and he was thoroughly impressed. "So, um...how friendly do we need to be for you to upgrade my suit?"

"Steve!"

"What?" he shrugged innocently. "I need this." He finally released the suit and looked into the box that T'Challa had brought it in, turning to you with a questioning look across his face as he spoke, "no helmet?"

"No. I want my face to be the last one they see before they go to hell."

Tony had been silent as the three of you spoke, watching and listening, but with a despair in his eyes and a hint of regret at how this had all played out for you. He stood there watching you prepare for a mission that neither of you wanted, and that neither of you could have ever anticipated, but one that he knew only the two of you could complete. "Are you sure about this," he whispered, in a voice that he didn't recognize as his own, as if the words were spoken beyond his control.

"Aren't you?"

"I can't watch you get hurt again."

"Dad, it's my job, and I can do this. I'm going to do this, with or without you."

"Hey! (Y/N), is it here?" Peter yelled from across the room, pushing through the guests excitedly towards you. Once he was at your side he grabbed your suit from T'Challa's hands and inspected it inch by inch, marveling at the craftsmanship. "That's amazing! Did you leave an opening with the dimensions that I sent you? Um...your highness...sorry about that."

"Of course, as I said that I would."

"Sweet! I'll be right back!" Peter was still gawking at the suit as he carried it away, and you knew that deep down a part of him wanted to try it on. You were pretty sure that he was likely already in it when you blinked and he was out of sight.

"Dimensions? What's he doing to it?" Steve asked. "It looked like it was done."

"He's adding webs," you chuckled, smiling widely with an excited clap of your hands, "how cool is that? This is going to be almost too easy."

"Okay, you're almost giddy, and I don't like that," Steve cautioned, "it's not like you. What exactly is this plan that you two have?"

"It's really simple, Steve," you answered, quickly dissolving the sounds of laughter that you had only seconds ago, taking him aback with the shift in your demeanor and the darkness in your eyes, "when we find the base that has my mother's body, I'm going to kill each and every one of those bastards, one by one...with my own hands, until I have her back."