The hut by the lake has been a quiet, grim place for the last few weeks. If Steve had been haunted by memories of laughter and games and warm candlelight, he could only imagine how it must have gnawed on his best friend. He's not sure what to expect when the door opens: Bucky had been exhausted and drawn this morning; had been wild and insistent during their short call.

It's a relief beyond words to see the freshly-washed and shaved man who opens the door, and if Bucky's eyes aren't quite as clear as Steve might want, at least they've lost the hopeless bleakness that's all he's seen in them lately. "I couldn't have stayed away," he says, honestly, and draws his best friend in for a brief but crushing hug.

"Sorry I'm late. I ended up going all the way back to pick up Sam and Nat; they refused to be left out of it, once they heard."