Disclaimer: This is Marvel's universe. I'm just borrowing some of the characters. Just for fun, not for profit.

Author's Note: This is a sequel. Nyssa first appeared in Kintsugi.

Old Ghosts and New Beginnings

The verdant, scenic hills of Connecticut rolled by outside the car windows as Bucky drove down the road. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Nyssa sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her face turned towards the window even though he knew she couldn't see any of the landscape they were passing. She fidgeted with the ring on her left hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, fully prepared to turn the car around and drive another two and a half hours back to New York if her answer was no. She nodded resolutely.

"I just need to see it, so I can either decide if it's as perfect as I remember it or cross it off the list entirely. I used to dream of getting married there, when I was a little girl. But maybe it isn't what I remember. It's been a long time." Nyssa pulled her legs up and crossed them in the seat, running a hand distractedly through her hair.

"How long?" Bucky asked. Nyssa sighed.

"Twenty-three years. The last time I was there, I buried my mother." She spun the ring on her finger around, lapsing into silence. Bucky contemplated the road ahead of them and let her gather her thoughts. She sighed and laid her head back against the seat. "Maybe if I'd known they turned it into a museum, I'd have gone back before this."

"I am kinda excited to see where you grew up," Bucky admitted with a teasing smile. Nyssa snorted.

"Well, maybe after we're done with the tour, I can show you my parents' house in town. This was my grandmother's estate," she reminded him. "I spent a lot of time there, but it wasn't the same as home." She lapsed into silence again for a moment or two, then huffed softly in laughter. "She hated that, you know."

"Who did?" Bucky asked, unsure where her train of thought had gone.

"Grandmother. She hated the fact that we lived in town. She wanted all of us to stay with her in the big house, like her family did all her life. I think that was part of the reason she didn't like my mom. Grandmother accused her of tearing the family apart. My mom convinced my dad to move away from the house he grew up in so that they could make a home together. Mom thought the estate was excessive and pretentious." Bucky's eyebrows rose.

"Was it?" he inquired. Nyssa giggled.

"I'll let you be the judge of that," she decided, settling back in the seat, her hands finally stilling in her lap.

Twenty minutes later, the GPS instructed him to turn onto what appeared to be a long, unmarked road. After a couple minutes of driving along the tree-lined boulevard, Bucky realized this was the driveway to the Monterose Estate. His eyes widened as the main building came into view. It was a sprawling, three-story brick Victorian-style mansion ringed with fruit trees and manicured paths. A round, cobblestone parking area wound around a magnificent fountain before the arching staircase that led up to a massive pair of double doors. On each step, a bronze sculpture stood guard in the corner. He whistled lowly.

"Holy shit," he breathed. Nyssa chuckled.

"I told you my grandmother was wealthy," she reminded him. He shook his head.

"There's wealthy, and then there's…" He gestured helplessly at the opulence around them.

"Rolling in it? Filthy stinking loaded? A poster child for conspicuous consumption?" Nyssa suggested breezily. "I know. She bought me a pony for my first birthday, before I could even walk, then decided it didn't go with the dress I was wearing, so she bought me another one." Bucky let out a huff of disbelieving laughter.

"Technically, isn't all of this yours?" he asked. Nyssa shook her head.

"No, it would have belonged to Vanessa Monterose. But legally, she's dead." She smiled out the window. "I wouldn't want to live here, anyway. You wouldn't believe the ghosts that haunt the place. Besides, for all her wealth, my grandmother was never truly happy." She directed her smile at Bucky. "I'd rather live in a tiny apartment with you than here, even with all its… opulence and grandeur."

"I don't know that I'd call Avengers Tower a tiny apartment," he snorted, and got out of the car. Coming around to her side, he opened her door and helped her out, then circled around to the back and got Darshan out of his travel crate. The dog quickly assumed his customary position on Nyssa's left, and she grabbed onto his harness.

"I'm not saying it is," Nyssa pointed out. "I'm just saying… home is where the heart is."

"So, you wouldn't want to live with me here?" he teased. Her hand slipped into his and squeezed affectionately.

"If you were here, then maybe I could find a way to tolerate it," she teased back as the three of them made their way up the staircase.

After passing through the doors, it became more obvious that the building was a museum. The grand foyer was filled with displays recounting the history and tragedies of the Monterose family, and several areas were cordoned off with velvet ropes. A portrait on the wall caught Bucky's attention, and he paused as he recognized Nyssa. She was very young in the picture, maybe twelve, but it was unmistakably her. A large plaque next to the portrait recounted the sad story of Vanessa Monterose, including the takedown of the human traffickers that had targeted her but ending with her untimely death.

"You can look around here if you like," Nyssa said in his ear, dropping his hand. "I'm going to see if I can find the office. Ruth said there are a couple places where we could have the ceremony." Bucky nodded, turning his attention to the next display. This portrait was of a man with dark hair, handsome features and the same hazel eyes that seemed to see everything. A much smaller portrait was hanging next to his, of the same man with a woman with dirty blonde hair and a very familiar expression on her face. The story beside these pictures differed a little from what Nyssa had told him. They told of a man so attached to his mother that, after she passed, he became depressed and eventually ended his own life. Nyssa's mother was barely mentioned at all. Whoever wrote these histories must have been close friends with the Grandmother. He moved on to the next portrait, and almost gasped. The woman in the massive portrait was strikingly beautiful, but cold, her eyes peering down in judgement. The plaque beside her outlined a ruthless and successful business career in an era that did not believe women had any place in such an occupation. He immediately felt as if she saw all of his secrets and disapproved. Taking a couple large steps back, he shivered, then decided to go back to the picture of Vanessa Monterose. Beneath the portrait, there were a few items arranged on a lowboy; little trinkets that must have belonged to her. He suppressed the urge to pocket them to show her later.

"Tragic, isn't it?" Bucky jumped at the voice right beside him. Taking a step to the side, he looked over to see an older man, his hair more salt than pepper, staring at the portrait with grief and guilt lined on his face. His eyes carried the familiar glint of someone who had seen too much.

"Very sad," Bucky agreed, preparing to go find Nyssa and leave this man with his grief. But the man kept talking.

"I was a US Marshall for forty-two years, and this is the case that still haunts me," he said sadly. Bucky's eyes widened, and he glanced down to see a nametag on the man's shirt that said "Elijah."

"You... you knew her?" he asked carefully. Elijah nodded.

"It was my job to protect her, after she had already been through shit that nobody should ever have to go through. The stuff that came out in the trial…" He shook his head. "Gut-wrenching. Even for the seasoned officers. And then she lost both parents to boot. A really confused, traumatized kid, but still very sweet. Very smart, too. She could have made a difference in the world. And I… I failed her." He gazed at the portrait for awhile longer, then seemed to shake himself from his reverie. "Are you here for the tour? I'm supposed to be giving tours, but, ah…" he gestured to the nearly-empty hall. "Not too many here for that today."

"Ah, actually, I'm here with my… fiancée," Bucky replied. The title still felt strange and new on his lips, and his heart skipped strangely every time he used it. "She wanted to see about maybe getting married on the grounds." Elijah nodded sagely.

"We get those occasionally. The East Garden and Wisteria Hollow are the most popular." He glanced around. "So where is the lovely lady?" he inquired. A gasp and spike of panic drew Bucky's attention to the next room. Nyssa had seen who he was talking to. He smiled at Elijah.

"I will go find out," he promised. He didn't have to go very far. Nyssa had pressed herself into the corner of the next room, eyes wide and face pale. Darshan was pushing his nose into her hand and whining, licking her fingers and trying to calm her down.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, although he had a suspicion he already knew.

"That man you were talking to," she whispered. "Do you know who he is?"

"His nametag said Elijah. He said he gives tours here." Both true statements, even though it wasn't actually what she was asking. She drew in a shaky breath.

"Maybe we should go," she suggested.

"We could," Bucky agreed. He stepped closer and clasped her shoulders. "Or you could go out there and let him know that he didn't fail, and you didn't die." She started shaking her head before he even finished the sentence.

"I, I… I couldn't. I can't," she stammered.

"Hey," he chided softly, cupping a hand under her chin. "The Nyssa I know can coordinate her own rescue while chained up, orchestrate a resistance movement behind the scenes, and make people believe in themselves again when they feel that all hope is lost. You can go say hi to an old friend."

"It gets a little more complicated when the old friend believes that you're dead," Nyssa bit out, her face pinched.

Bucky persisted. "Didn't you say this was one of your greatest regrets? And now you have a chance to set the record straight."

"I can't put his life in danger," Nyssa protested.

"That was true all those years ago," Bucky agreed. "But you're not hiding anymore. I know. Steve knows. Sharon knows. Nobody's come after Vanessa since you told us, and it's almost been five years." He bent down to briefly press his lips to hers. She seemed to relax marginally. "Look, if you really want to leave, we can. We'll go back to New York, cross this place off our list. But are you sure you want to let this opportunity go?" She looked down, and he could feel her panic and shame shift as she contemplated his words. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I mean, the guy is giving tours of your grandmother's house. I think it's safe to say he hasn't moved past it." She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, and he saw a tear trickle down her cheek. He shouldn't push too much more. "Whatever you decide, I'm here," he assured her. She pressed her face into his shirt, and he felt the dampness against his chest as her tears soaked through. She took a step back, wiped her eyes, swallowed hard and nodded.

"I guess we should at least take the tour," she said, her voice still somewhat strained, and the smile she flashed him wasn't nearly as convincing as usual. He clasped her right hand in his and pressed an encouraging kiss on her knuckles before leading her back into the main hall. Elijah was still wandering around from portrait to portrait. Bucky approached him, Nyssa following slightly behind, hesitation in her steps but her hand still in his resolutely.

"Elijah, wasn't it?" Bucky asked as he came up behind the man. Elijah turned to face them. "I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Nyssa." A wide smile spread across Elijah's face, and he proffered his hand to Nyssa. Bucky caught the confused wrinkle that creased between his eyebrows then smoothed away, the furtive glance from Nyssa to the portrait of Vanessa and back again. But his smile was genuine as he took Nyssa's hand and shook it.

"Very pleased to meet you, miss," he said. "I can see already that he is a very lucky man." Nyssa smiled and nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. There had been a glint of recognition, but he had pushed it aside, reasoning that it simply could not be. "Well, shall we start the tour, then?" he asked. Nyssa nodded. With a sweeping gesture, he began his speech as he told the story of the Monterose family. Bucky listened earnestly. It was fascinating to learn all about Nyssa's family and the world she had grown up in, before tragedy struck. For her part, Nyssa mostly seemed distracted. Outwardly, she appeared to be listening attentively, but Darshan kept looking around, sniffing here and there. Since he was normally very still and focused when he was in work mode, Bucky had to infer that Nyssa was using him to find out every detail of this ostentatious place she had spent so much of her childhood in. He gave her hand a warning squeeze, and Darshan settled down. He felt the now-familiar sensation in his head that told him she was sharing his vision, which passed as she settled into the tour.

Elijah took them through the library, the formal dining hall, the parlor, three sitting rooms, a study and an office (which apparently were two different things) and a reception hall with a ballroom. There was a music room with a grand piano, a harp and an entire wall full of various instruments. Many of the rooms were roped off, or at least had sections that were off limits. They wandered through a kitchen suite that included a walk-in pantry, canning room, larder, and peeked at a dark staircase that lead down to the wine cellar and root cellar. They swung through the butler's pantry and then hiked up a winding staircase to the next level, where Elijah ushered them by the sleeping chambers. Madeline Monterose's room was of course the largest, with an adjoining dressing room. Philip Monterose's rooms were only slightly smaller, and just as richly appointed. Two doors down from his was a room straight out of a little girl's dream, with a canopy bed, a five-foot-tall dollhouse, an indoor swing, and an entire wall of built-in bookshelves. Vanessa's room. This room was cordoned off, allowing only a glance around at the toys and books before Elijah whisked them off to show them the next suite, which was an elegant guest suite. Bucky soon realized that Nyssa had disappeared. He wandered back down the hall and found her in Vanessa's room, the velvet barrier still up but completely ignored. Darshan was sitting on the carpet just on the other side of the rope, watching his mistress intently.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you can't be in there," Elijah protested as he came up behind Bucky and peered over his shoulder. "That's off-limits…" His voice trailed off as Nyssa ran her hand over the gorgeous sateen comforter.

"She only brought these out for very special occasions and celebrations," she commented softly. "I don't think I slept in them more than five or six times." She crossed the room to the dollhouse, her fingers finding the latch and swinging it open. "I begged for this doll house when I was nine. She surprised me with it for my thirteenth birthday. Unfortunately, by then my interests had shifted to other things. I should have been more grateful. I didn't know it was the last gift she would give me before she died." She shook her head slightly. "Everything here is exactly as I left it. Nothing's even been moved." She crossed the room to the built-in bookcase, her fingers skimming along the intricate carvings along the base and edges. She pressed in the center of a rosette, and an audible click filled the stunned silence as Elijah and Bucky looked on. A crack appeared in the paneling below the shelves, and Nyssa easily swung it aside, revealing a hidden compartment within. She pulled out a little wooden box, inlaid with wood carvings and mother of pearl. "Even my treasure box is still here." She walked back over to where Elijah and Bucky were watching, the wooden box clasped in her hands. For the first time, she directed her words directly to Elijah. "There is a very simple reason why I look like Vanessa Monterose," she informed him. "I am Vanessa Monterose." Elijah had gone pale, staring at her in disbelief. Slowly, he shook his head.

"It's not possible," he whispered. "She died. In my arms. I watched her die." Nyssa shook her head sadly, tears glistening in her eyes.

"You saw what I wanted you to see," she explained. "I had to let you believe it was real."

"Why?" The word was both plea and accusation. Nyssa gestured helplessly.

"I thought I was protecting you. If Vanessa was dead, there would be no more assassination attempts. You could go back to your life. No more assassins. I thought it was the right decision at the time." She gestured again, shaking her head. "It was a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes of my life, and you know I've made some big ones. I am so sorry for all the years of pain that I caused you. I should have let you in on it." There were tears standing in Elijah's eyes. He stood absolutely still for a long moment, Nyssa standing contritely before him, head bowed. Taking in a long breath, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her.

"My God, you're alive. You're alive," he breathed, swaying slightly. "I can't even…" He pushed back from her, his eyes tracing her features, looking her up and down as if trying to convince himself she was real. He shook his head again in relieved disbelief. "You look amazing. And you're engaged… Plus, you have a service dog?" He eyed Darshan in his official harness.

"A lot has happened," Nyssa admitted. "It'll take some time to get you caught up."

"I'm in no hurry," Elijah said easily. The sound of people coming in downstairs made him remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. "Did you, ah… want to finish the tour?" he asked. Nyssa frowned.

"What's supposed to be next?" she asked. Elijah looked uneasy.

"The Blue Study," he admitted. Nyssa's features tightened.

"We can skip that part," she said tersely. "I was hoping to look more at the grounds, show Bucky the gardens. Ruth said the date we were looking at is available." Elijah nodded slowly.

"Sure, we can look at the grounds," he said, turning to lead the way. Nyssa fell into step beside him. She almost seemed like she was a little taller as she walked beside him on their way out of the mansion.

"So, what have you been up to?" she asked curiously. "I thought I read somewhere that you got married…" Elijah sighed heavily.

"I was," he acknowledged. "I'm a widower now."

"I'm very sorry," Nyssa intoned sincerely. He shrugged.

"It is what it is. We never had any children, and I was retired, so… I ended up here. Felt like I had unfinished business. Guess I was right." He glanced at her with a half-smile. "What name was it you're going by now? Nessa?"

"Nyssa," she corrected softly, slightly emphasizing the different vowel sound. "My legal name is… Dr. Nyssa Taylor." His eyes widened slightly at the familiar last name, then more as the full name registered.

"I know that name. New York… One of the Avengers? Patchwork Doll? Is that you?" He narrowed his eyes as more pieces clicked into place and focused on Bucky. "So then you must be…"

"Bucky Barnes, at your service," Bucky replied with a slight bow.

"The new Captain America," Elijah concluded as they reached the Grand Foyer once again. Bucky nodded. Elijah blinked, shook his head and let out a loud huff of air. "So, the dog?" he asked after a moment. "If you're a superhero, do you really need a service dog?"

"Well, technically, my eyes don't work," Nyssa admitted. Elijah looked at her sharply.

"How's that? You've made eye contact with me several times," he pointed out. Nyssa grinned sheepishly.

"Most of what I do is reading and manipulating energy. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, intentions, that sort of thing. People tend to have a shift in energy when you make eye contact, so… I've gotten good at faking it," she admitted. Elijah shook his head again and opened a side door to lead them outside.

"Okay, so where were you thinking?" he asked, his manner becoming more businesslike. "I was mentioning to him that the most popular sites for events are the East Garden and Wisteria…" He trailed off as Nyssa was already shaking her head.

"I was thinking more the North Woods," she said shyly. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

"They aren't nearly as groomed," he protested. "I don't think anyone's been up there in years." Nyssa shrugged.

"Then they'll still have their natural beauty," she pointed out. "Is the gazebo still intact?" Elijah shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out."

Nyssa brightened as they approached the stable, and broke into a jog, Darshan trotting by her side. Bucky hung back and kept pace with Elijah.

"Back in the house," he said quietly, "you mentioned the Blue Study. Why didn't she want to go there?" Elijah looked grim.

"That's where her father killed himself," he explained.

"Ah." Bucky wasn't sure what else to say to that, but his mind immediately went back to their conversation upon arrival, and the comment Nyssa made about ghosts. "That's terrible. People actually want to see something like that?"

"Well, it's not like they left all the blood spatter on the walls. It's been cleaned up. Just looks like a regular study now. It's only interesting because of the history, but yes, it's usually one of the highlights of the tour. People are interested in all kinds of morbid things." Both of them fell silent as they drew near the stable, where Nyssa was stroking the nose of a horse whose head hung over the stall door.

"I'm amazed there are still horses here," she remarked. "I can't imagine they are usually part of the tour."

"No," Elijah agreed. "But the groundskeeper likes to keep them so he can use them to travel the property more quickly. Sixty-two acres is a lot of ground to cover." Bucky's eyebrows rose.

"No doubt," he agreed. The sheer grandeur of the place still astounded him. They walked through the magnificent East Garden and the breathtaking Wisteria Hollow, where the trees hung over the path with colorful garlands of purple and white, through a winding hedge maze, and down a walking path to a towering forest of trees. Elm and oak, maple and birch wove their branches together overhead, making leafy lace against the sky. Nyssa outpaced both of them, trotting on eager feet as she wove her way through the woods, a nymph gliding through the trees with Darshan at her side.

"I actually have no idea where we're going," Elijah confessed in a murmur to Bucky. "I haven't been out here before. So I guess we're… following the blind woman?" Bucky chuckled.

"I spend a fair amount of time doing that," he conceded.

"Oh, really?" Elijah teased back. "Isn't Captain America supposed to be the leader?"

"Technically, I am," Bucky admitted. "But somehow, she usually seems to get her way. She does have good ideas. And she can be very persuasive." Elijah laughed.

"That hasn't changed, then," he observed. His expression grew more serious, and he regarded Bucky with an appraising look. "You'll treat her right, won't you? Because she deserves someone who will." Bucky nodded slowly.

"I'll do my best, sir." He watched her stop to pick a wildflower. "She probably deserves better, but I'll never stop trying to be worthy of her."

The trees around them thinned out, then gave way to a glade. At the far end, a small gazebo stood between two birch trees. A little creek ran by behind it. Despite the obvious signs of neglect and disrepair, it was still beautiful. With a little cry of delight, Nyssa ran over to it. She was still standing in the middle with her face alight when Elijah and Bucky caught up. The wildflower she had picked was now tucked behind her ear.

"It is still here," she said triumphantly.

"It'll need some work to be presentable," Elijah opined, eyeing the cracked and peeling paint, the broken boards around the perimeter, the pieces missing from the gingerbread trim. Bucky stepped up the three stairs into the aging gazebo, his attention drawn upwards to the intricate scrollwork set underneath the roof. He paused as something crunched underfoot, taking his weight off that foot. Bending down, he picked up a pair of dolls that were filthy and weatherworn. One was wearing a lacy, long ball gown that might have been white a long time ago. The other was done up in a dirty tuxedo, complete with a top hat, the brim snapped in half thanks to Bucky's boot.

"We can put in a little work," he said decisively. "It'll be worth it." Nyssa turned towards him with a grin.

"So you like it?" she said excitedly.

"I think it's perfect," he assured her. With a teasing smile, he held the dolls up. "Are these yours?" She frowned. He pressed them into her free hand. Her eyes widened as she realized what they were, and her cheeks turned bright pink.

"Well, I did tell you I used to dream of getting married here," she said bashfully. "And the rates are actually pretty reasonable, all things considered."

"Rates… reasonable?" Elijah spluttered. "By rights, this whole place should be yours. There shouldn't be a fee for you to get married on your own property."

"Maybe that's true," Nyssa conceded, "but that's part of what I gave up." Elijah shook his head.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see," he grumbled. Nyssa nodded.

"True. But I wouldn't be nearly as successful if I wasn't," she pointed out. Elijah snorted, but didn't argue. Darshan sniffed around the wooden supports, taking in the recent history of the location. Nyssa took another step towards her former mentor and protector. "Elijah, I know that this is all very sudden, and I understand if you aren't interested, but… you are the closest thing to a father that I have still living. Do you think… you could walk me down the aisle?" Elijah looked stunned and didn't answer for a minute. Nyssa shifted her long-abandoned dolls to her other hand. "You don't have to answer right away. Just think about it, and…"

"I'd be honored, darlin'," he interrupted, drawing her into a hug for a second time that day.

About an hour later, they were climbing back into the car to head back to New York. Bucky put the key in the ignition, then paused, glancing sideways at Nyssa.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I was too pushy about you telling him who you really are," he said quietly. "He just seemed so… lost. And I don't blame him. I can't imagine watching you die, knowing it was because I didn't keep you safe…" He stopped, the rush of emotion closing off his throat. It had been close enough when she had been taken in Wakanda, and he hadn't been able to stop it. She hadn't died, but neither had she made it out unscathed. She reached over, covering his hand with hers.

"You don't need to apologize," she said. "That push was just what I needed. I feel like I put down a great weight that I didn't even know I was carrying." She shifted in her seat, stretching to plant a kiss on his cheek. "I love you. Let's go home."