You . . . but where were you? What did he do to you? James . . .


[Steve kept touching the man's face, his other hand tight on James' hip. It was a way to make things real for him. It wasn't a dream if he could touch. Just like with Bucky, it was so hard to believe he wasn't just hallucinating or something. The hotel had certainly tried to do similar things in the past.

He frowned, trying to make sense of what the man said. Not that it helped anything to make faces.]


We thought you'd gone home. Everything said you had. Even Lucifer . . . We still have your things, most of them anyway. Jim and me. We . . . we . . .


[Steve closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Dividing up the man's property had been so far from pleasant . . . Still, he had James in his arms again, and that was what mattered. He met James' eyes again, his own full of love and a very fierce protectiveness. Steve knew the man was deadly, but that didn't mean he wouldn't fight for the people he loved.

Despite the fact he knew it was a lie in some sense, Steve spoke, unable to keep it inside.]


You're safe with me. In my arms, you're always safe.