Natasha crept slowly towards the bed, speaking low, soft, gentle tones. She moved with a careful grace, but she wasn't a spy in this moment. No, now she was a friend and she let herself be needed, even if she wouldn't be wanted in that moment.
"May I see her katyonak?" It was if the world went silent then. The sounds of the machines whirring and beeping fading into the background. A tear fell from her eye, as if tipped over the crest of a mountain top. Victoria shifted slowly in the bed, looking up into her friends' eyes, a sick, drawn smile on her face. You could see the tear tracks on her cheeks, her nose red from sobbing. Slowly, as if it would break her neck, she nodded, but held tight to the precious bundle in her arms.
The room was almost completely empty save for Bruce in the corner, Natasha creeping to the side of the bed, Clint hid himself away, unable to keep his own tears away. Sam had his back to Victoria, speaking in hushed tones in Bruce's ear; Steve was nowhere in sight. Bucky stood still as a statue in the corner. His body was as rigid as a stone, fists clamped tight, his knuckles white and silver; his dark hair hanging over his eyes, you wouldn't be able to tell any of the emotions he was feeling or if he had felt anything at all.
As Natasha approached the bed and reached for the bundle in the woman's arms she spoke.
"She is beautiful isn't she?" her eyes glazed over as she rocked softly, swaying side to side. "All her fingers, all her toes…button nose…" Natasha looked towards the corner at the black shadowed figure. The tension rolled around the room. He shifted; one foot forward, trying to propel him to the bed. Looking back at her friend Natasha allowed a small smile, trying to hide any of the fear in her eyes. She sat on the bed next to her friend and placed and arm around her small shoulders.
"Она прекрасна" she whispered. She noticed Sam leaving the room and Bruce kept glancing between a file in his hands, the corner of the room and the bed. He was trying to keep busy; wasting time until he knew what he would have to do.
"Isn't she James?" Victoria's voice was watery, crying will do that to a person. Her throat was tight, her chest burned with unshed tears and from the sobbing she had already done. He looked up and his face was void of everything and nothing. No emotions, no tears, no pain, but his focus was on her and the bundle of blankets she held in her arms. Natasha watched him move across the room. Bruce barely cast a look under his eye lashes. The chair made no noise as Bruce sat in it.
He swallowed past the knot in his throat. Victoria only ever called him James when she knew she needed to get through to him. She had called that name when they had come together to create the life in her arms. Always called that name when they shared passion and love, especially after a mission brought him back to her. If he needed to be reminded of the humanity in him, James was what brought him back to her. Bucky was for everyone, but her James…that was her world.
Victoria held out her hand to him and he gripped it like a life line. Her smile was still drawn, sick, sad, pained. "Sit with us?" she asked. He barely nodded before she leaned forward and with all his own grace that he had acquired through his life; tucked himself behind her. His long legs mirrored hers, side by side; his arms came up to support hers around the blankets. Natasha slid her arm back from Victoria's shoulders and watched.
Their heads naturally leaned down over their daughter; slightly together. Another sniffle could be heard and you could see Bucky trace a finger down his daughters' soft cheek. Bruce stared from the chair, Natasha nodded slow, steady, and he got up and left. Bucky shuddered softly and whispered in Victoria's ear. Together they cried and rocked their daughter.
The labor had been hard and long. She had clawed at his arms, metal or flesh made no difference to her and he couldn't stop it from happening. He watched as she bit back screams and groans, but finally let them into the air. Bruce had been there the whole time; Natasha constantly in and out of the room. He had massaged her lower back, walked her through the halls; they had visitors until that crease began to stay permanent on Bruce's brow. That's when things started to frighten them. The soothing words became hollow, empty promises. She tried squatting, baring on all fours; Bruce manually rotated her but nothing helped. In the end, there had only been a few moments of breathing; no blinking of her eyes, her face had a slight purplish tint to it. All of those months. All of the planning. After the last breath, that's when Steve had left, Clint just before him. The world stopped for them. Calls were made to Tony and Pepper who had stayed up in the suites to ready them for the newest family member. It may have been Steve who called for Sam to come, he would be needed, though this wasn't his specialty. The world was at a grinding halt when Bruce choked out the words that he wasn't able to bring her back; when Bucky held himself tight as a bowstring on Clint's bow and had since then stood in the corner, only having looked at his daughter as she had laid on her mother's chest for skin to skin contact. Bruce backed away to the door, Natasha stood with him. All they could do was watch as the winter soldier's mask came back into play. Sam had let himself into the room a while later, never approaching the bed. He only spoke to Bruce and Natasha. Then it was decided someone needed to approach Victoria and it was time for her to let go.
"Katyonak, may I hold her?" The air was thick, unsteady, making it hard to breath. This was a risk that Natasha had to take and it was completely possible that Bucky wouldn't let her touch his daughter. Victoria looked up, red rimmed eyes, red nose and slowly, shaking, held out her daughter to the spy. Natasha felt her face crack and a small tear let loose and dropped softly on the little girls' cheek. Bucky's arms tightened around Victoria, locking her into his embrace. Natasha turned and began to walk towards the door, whispering to the child in her arms; both in Russian and English. As the door clicked closed the world began to cave in around the couple. They would never see the dark waves on her head again, nor touch her soft skin. They would never hear her laugh or cry. But she would never be sick or hurt and though that thought would bring them a tinge of comfort, nothing would ever replace their daughter. The daughter they never even thought they would have. Everything had gone smoothly. She had been healthy the entire time, the worry of the serum was near erased as tests and procedures assured them nothing would happen and nothing odd was going on. Bucky's mind focused on the woman in his arms; his own tears mingled with hers.
Outside of the room Natasha laid a gentle kiss on the childs' cheek and allowed Bruce to take her from Natasha's arm. A sharp exhale next to her let her know that Bucky's best friend hadn't abandoned the family in need. No, never that. It was a tangle of arms around necks and waist as the Black Widow let her emotions collide Captain America's. Bruce held the baby with the upmost care, as if she was alive. Clint swallowed hard as he passed Bruce and waded towards the room. No words would pass between them. Their family was hurting too much. They would stay there, in front of the room where they would wait to be able to comfort their family. Where they would wait to help start the world moving again.