I'M ALLLIIIIIVVVVEEE! I LIIIIVVVEEE!
Okay, dramatics out of the way, I really am glad to be back and posting. Sorry for such a wait! I got bogged down in schoolwork to the point where it felt like all my professors were in a conspiracy to kill me with projects and papers...
But enough of that. You want the chapter!
A WORD OF WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS FRANK (BUT I DON'T THINK GRATUITOUS) DISCUSSION OF A BIOLOGICAL PROCESS OF PUBERTY IN GIRLS. I TRIED TO WRITE THAT PART AS HONESTLY AS POSSIBLE WITHOUT BEING GROSS. IF IT OFFENDS ANYONE, I AM SORRY.
And now, on with the story!
Chapter Twenty-One
Everything started when Cooper came home from school with a runny nose, complaining that his throat hurt.
Laura had merely sighed, given him some Vitamin C and Sudafed, given Lila a precautionary dose of Vitamin C, and made a mental note to warn the others that Flu Season was now open for business.
Unfortunately, her warning traveled about as fast as the germs.
Despite the precautionary Vitamin C, Lila was showing flu symptoms within the next couple days. Next was Nathaniel, which sent a very worried Clint into town with the toddler to get him examined, since the flu was always more worrisome in young children. The doctor prescribed some anti-viral medication, but most of the symptoms simply had to be waited out. Clint himself finally succumbed, followed at last by Laura, who had held off getting sick until then by sheer willpower.
The twins came over to help out a few times, once Clint and Laura were both more or less incapacitated, and Steve had brought food, since he was the least likely to get sick. But even with everyone being very careful, germs still spread.
It was only a matter of time before sickness reached the Mansion.
"Dad, my head hurts."
Steve frowned; he hated it whenever Christy was in any kind of pain. "Then go take some Tylenol, baby."
"I did, almost half an hour ago. It still hurts. And my throat feels weird."
Steve's eyebrows shot up and he glanced over at Sam, who along with Bucky was ensconced in the world of Monday Night Football. "Sam…you hear that?"
Sam sighed. "Steve, it's sort of inevitable. She saw Cooper the day he got sick, and the twins went down to help out with the kids a few times. She'll just take meds and let the thing run its course."
"Easy for you to say…" Steve mumbled, feeling slightly bitter. Sam had always been a healthy individual surrounded by other healthy individuals. He hadn't seen the deadly effect that illness could have on a person.
Bucky looked back at Steve. "It'll be alright, punk. Besides, even if we all get sick, you probably won't."
Steve's furrowed brow and worried eyes showed that the statement wasn't making him feel any better.
"Christy, go in my bathroom and check in the medicine drawer for Sudafed." Sam said. "I should have some cough drops, too. We can go out and stock up on medicine tomorrow."
Christy nodded and walked out of the room.
"Steve." Sam said, turning away from the TV and facing his friend. "I'm not trying to be unsympathetic. I know you used to get sick about as easily as most people breathe. And I know about your mom. But this is the basic flu we're talking about. Not TB. Not pneumonia. Not scarlet fever or pertussis or whatever the hell else you caught." He locked eyes with Steve. "Understand?"
Steve gave a tiny nod.
"We'll be fine." Bucky echoed. "'Sides, you better save your strength; somethin' tells me you're gonna end up playin' nurse pretty soon."
Steve rolled his eyes at that. "If I'm playin' nurse, you're gonna be helpin' me, jerk. You've got serum, too."
Bucky shook his head. "It doesn't work like yours. Knock-off, remember? I heal quickly, but I still can get sick. Remember…remember when I came back?"
Steve nodded slowly. "You had a fever and your hair looked like something that crawled out from the sewers."
He was smirking a little, which Bucky considered a success. "It wasn't that bad!" he protested.
"Yes it was." Sam chimed in. "Matted as all he—get-out." he amended, as Christy came back into the room. "You find the meds okay?"
Christy nodded. "I took two pills like the box said."
"That should help clear up any sinus pressure. Take some more before you go to bed, and we'll see how this goes. I'd give you a Vitamin C packet, but I think we're out."
"We'll get some tomorrow." Steve promised.
"And some Coke? Coke is good when you're sick." Christy tried to sound nonchalant (and failed miserably).
Bucky snorted. "Barely even sick and she's already pitchin' a fit to get pop!"
"I'm not pitchin' a fit! I just like Coke!"
Steve grinned. "Now you're bein' honest. You got play rehearsal this week?"
Christy shook her head. "None of my scenes this week. Or Pietro's. I already asked."
"That's good at least."
Christy groaned a little. "I hate being sick. It's annoying."
Steve patted her head sympathetically. "I know, baby. Just be glad it doesn't happen all the time."
"I am. Promise. I guess I shouldn't be complaining…you always had it way worse."
A dark look settled on Bucky's face, as he had remembering flashes of those "way worse" times.
Steve settled a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Yeah, I did, baby. But you…" he trailed off, trying to find the words to express the flood of emotion inside him. "You weren't made for being sick, for lying still…"
Christy gave him a hug. "You weren't, either."
"Nobody likes being sick." Sam said diplomatically. "Maybe go to bed early tonight?"
Steve nodded in agreement. "And by early, we mean nine o'clock. Not eleven. Or midnight."
Christy made a face. "I know what early means."
"Coulda fooled me." Bucky muttered.
"I'm not the only one who stays up late. Pietro never goes to bed before midnight!"
"So you're taking cues from Pietro, now?" Steve asked.
Christy jumped over to the staircase with a dramatic flourish. "Welp, since I'm 'outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, out planned…' I'mma take a shower."
Steve snorted, catching the reference. "Good plan. Remember to take some more medicine before you go to sleep."
"Okay, I will."
As Christy walked up the stairs, rubbing at her head a little, Steve sighed.
The next week or so was going to be interesting. He could feel it.
No good deed goes unpunished…
This was Wanda's sardonic thought, as she draped herself over the toilet, trying to discern if the nausea in her stomach had gone away enough for her to limp back to bed.
I try to be nice, help Clint and Laura out with the kids, and this is the thanks I get! 'Sick as a dog,' as Sam says…
It seemed like her stomach had calmed down, so she started to rise, when another wave of nausea hit her.
"Prestani…" she gagged out between spasms. There was nothing coming out of her mouth, anyway; the contents of her stomach were long since empty.
When her body settled down at last, she steeled herself and managed to stumble out into the hallway.
"You okay?"
She looked up and saw Bucky standing a few feet away, worry clouding his face.
"Not really…" she muttered, groaning a little. "I keep throwing up everything. And I feel disgusting."
"You still look beautiful." Bucky mumbled. Quickly, he added, "Want some help getting back to bed?"
"I think I…" Wanda's head throbbed and she suddenly felt ridiculously tired. "Maybe a little."
Bucky laughed softly and slipped a steadying arm around her waist.
"Is Pietro asleep?" she asked. Her brother had gotten really sick two days ago, around the same time she had.
Bucky nodded. "I just checked his room. He's sleepin' for now. Sam's finally decided to accept the inevitable and go sleep some, too. Steve's not sick, of course, not that I begrudge him being well…but he's not doin' great on the inside, if ya know what I mean. He's scared for Christy."
Wanda frowned. "Christy has a cold and a little fever. Not bad. She will be fine soon."
Bucky sighed. "I know that. You know that. Steve…knows it, but he's scared. And I can't really blame him. He watched his Ma get sick and die, and he couldn't do a thing about it. And we all…we all didn't worry so much at first. She was so invincible…"
"Oh…" Wanda whispered. That made sense. "I hope he stops worrying."
Bucky gave a humorless laugh. "And maybe the sun will stop shinin', huh?"
"And you? You are not sick?"
Bucky shrugged. "Not yet. I felt a little tired earlier, so Sam practically shoved Vitamin C pills down my throat. I know I can get sick…I think I just get better faster? Zola didn't exactly explain all the side benefits of this serum before he pumped it into me."
"To be fair, they did not tell Steve either." Wanda pointed out.
"Yeah…" Bucky still didn't look pacified.
He led her into the room she shared with Christy and gently guided her onto the bed. Christy let out a moan and sat up in a tangle of blankets.
"How ya feelin', kid?" Bucky asked.
Christy's response was another moan.
"That good, huh?"
"My head hurts." Christy said, her voice dulled by clogged sinuses. "My throat hurts and my nose and I'm tired, and I hate being sick."
"Easy…" Bucky murmured, walking over to the girl's bed. "You'll be better before you know it…"
"No I won't!" Christy was half-screaming now. "I hate being sick! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"
"Mače, it's alright…" Wanda started.
"Just leave me alone!" Christy cried, flopping over into her blankets.
Wanda's eyebrows flew up. Bucky gave a deep sigh and sat down on Christy's bed. The two locked eyes, both thinking the same thing.
Ten…nine…eight…seven…
Christy could never let bad behavior rest for very long. She had told Wanda once that if she went without apologizing, it felt like she had a giant weight was on her chest.
Sure enough, Christy picked her head up a little and mumbled, "Wanda?"
"Yes, mače?"
"'M sorry. I dunno what's wrong with me."
"It's alright. You're sick. Everyone is feeling strange right now."
"I know you're feelin' pretty rotten, kid." Bucky said. "Just remember that no matter what you feel, you shouldn't spread that to others. Just 'cause you feel bad doesn't mean you treat others bad."
Christy sniffled, whether from the illness or remorse, it was unclear.
Wanda pulled back the covers on her bed and thumped the mattress. "Come. And I will tell you the story of the time Pietro decided to give the orphanage cat a bath."
Bucky snorted and Christy even cracked a smile, but she looked at the bed dubiously. "Aren't you tired, too?"
"I need something to do. I am bored, and I expect you are, too."
"Okay." Christy got up and fumbled her way into the bed, snuggling up against Wanda.
"Are you guys thirsty?" Bucky asked. "You're supposed to be drinkin' water."
"I had a cup." Christy said.
"I had…some." Wanda echoed.
"'Some,' huh?" Bucky grinned, grabbing the two cups that each sat on a nightstand. "Be back in a second."
Wanda smoothed back Christy's hair, and started her tale. "We were about twelve years old, and the orphanage had a cat that hung around, to catch mice, you know. It caught the mice, but it didn't smell very good, so Pietro convinced some of the other boys that it needed a bath…"
Steve sat on the couch and buried his head in his hands. Late afternoon light flooded through the front windows, bathing everything in a soothing aura. But Steve's mind refused to be soothed.
Bucky was asleep. Sam was asleep. Pietro, of all people, was asleep.
Everybody had been hit with this nasty cold-flu-fever thing except him. And ordinarily, he would be…alright with that. Of course, after twenty-seven years of catching nearly every illness on record, he would never enjoy seeing anyone he loved ill, but he could cope.
And then, Christy started coughing.
It wasn't just her who was coughing, but for some reason, her coughs sounded particularly hacking, particularly loud…
"Ma? Are you okay here?"
Sarah Rogers gave her son a tired smile, as she sat propped up in a hospital bed. "I'm alright, Steve. I don't feel any worse…"
"Do…do they think you might get better?"
"I..." she paused, tears gathering in her eyes. "I don't know, baby."
Steve groaned a little at the old childhood endearment. "Ma, I'm not a baby!"
"No…no, you're not. But you will always be my boy. I'm so proud of you…"
Christy's coughing brought back haunting memories of his mother's battle with TB—ultimately a losing one. Neither of them had thought that anything was particularly wrong at first, but then the illness had gotten so bad, she'd been hospitalized. He'd been old enough to live on his own then, but the Barnes' had still looked out for him, and Bucky had practically moved in after that.
The awful sound of a cough drifted down the stairs, and Steve knew instinctively it was his daughter's.
It's alright…it's okay. Calm down. You know she's not that sick. You know it's not TB…
Another cough sounded, loud and full of mucus. Steve froze, his heart thumping like crazy.
I can't…I can't lose her! I can't do it! I can't lose…
In a blind panic, he grabbed his phone and slammed down the speed dial for Natasha's number.
"Nat?" he choked out, as soon as she picked up.
"Steve? What's wrong?"
"I…Nat, I can't, I can't lose her, any of them…"
"Steve, you're not making sense." Natasha's tone was low and soothing. "Get your thoughts in order. Tell me what's wrong."
"E-everyone's sick…"
"Yeah, Clint told me. It's just a flu, though, right?"
"Y-yeah, b-but everyone's sick except me, and Christy's coughing and it sounds like it's bad and I know it's not, but…"
"Okay." Natasha cut off his flood of words. "Okay, how about this? Bruce and I are going to drive out, now. We'll be there in an hour. He'll check everyone over, including Christy, and you can know for sure that everything will be okay. Does that sound good?"
"Y-yeah." Steve said, tight. "That'll work."
"Alright." Natasha sighed. "I'm gonna hang up now, Rogers. Are you by yourself?"
"Yeah, everyone else is asleep…"
"Go near someone. Watch them. See that they're not gonna disappear. We'll be there in an hour. You good?"
"I will be…"
"Close enough."
Natasha hung up the phone and went looking for Bruce. She found him in the Common Area, deep in conversation with Tony about something involving science. (Her brain was too focused to process anything more than that.)
"Hey, Bruce, you still got a med kit somewhere?"
Bruce looked up at her and grinned. "Always. Why, is there an emergency? I thought Clint and family were better."
"They are, but Steve just called. Apparently germs spread up the hill and everybody there is sick now. Steve sounded really…not okay. He was worried about Christy."
Tony snorted. "When is he not?"
"He said she was coughing and it sounded 'worse than it is,' whatever that means."
Bruce stood up. "I'll go get some supplies. You wanna head over now?"
"Yeah, I kinda promised him we would."
"Got it."
As Bruce headed off towards his room, Natasha drew out her phone and sent off a rather lengthy message. Tony looked over at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Matchmaking." Natasha said evenly, only the tiniest smirk on her face.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, so when you do it, it's matchmaking; when I do it, it's interference!"
"That's because you are the exact opposite of subtle, Tony. And subtlety is required when meddling in people's love lives." Natasha's smirk grew wider. "Sometimes, people just need a bit of a push."
"Steve?" Bruce called out as Natasha opened the door to the Mansion. (Because Natasha didn't need a key.) "Sam? Bucky?"
"In here!" Came Sam's voice, sounding weary and a little exasperated.
The two of them entered the room to find Sam sprawled out in bed, and Steve fidgeting in the recliner off to the side.
"Bruce." Sam said shortly. With a bit more kindness, he added. "Please explain to Steve that his daughter does not have tuberculosis."
Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "Uh…Steve, I can pretty much guarantee Christy doesn't have tuberculosis. Sam, how are you feelin'?"
As Bruce checked down Sam's throat and asked a few more questions, Natasha turned to Steve.
"So that's what this is about."
"I can't lose her, Nat." Steve whispered.
"Steve." Natasha reached out and grabbed his hand. "She's got a cold."
"She's never coughed like this before!" Steve argued, his voice rising in pitch.
"Okay, so maybe she's got a sinus infection. Either way, she'll get better."
"I know. I know. But I can't…"
"I'll go take a look at her right now." Bruce said, rising off the bed and grabbing his bag of miscellaneous medical supplies. "But I can promise you, it's probably not as bad as it seems."
"Listen to the nice doctor, Steve." Sam rasped out.
Steve glared at him, but the fierce expression quickly softened. "You feelin' any better?"
"Give me a couple more days." Sam said. "Now go on, go see your kid."
Forty-five minutes later, Bruce had checked over everyone in the house. Bucky was the least sick of the lot, with only a mild cough and lingering tiredness. Sam wasn't far behind him in recovery. Wanda and Pietro were both coughing and had clogged sinuses, but nothing really drastic.
As for Christy's cough, it wasn't a happy thing, but it was definitely not tuberculosis. She did have a slight fever, though.
"Here, take some Ibuprofen and Tylenol." Bruce said, handing over one of each pill. "It works well when you take them together."
Christy grinned a little. "Pill cocktails."
From his mattress on the floor (because staying alone in his own room with little to do had only worked for so long) Pietro propped his head up and joked, "Does that make you a drug lord?"
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not by a long shot, kid. Try to sleep if you can, Christy."
Christy groaned. "All I do is sleep."
"Well, there's a reason for that; your body needs to heal."
"I even miss doing school." she mumbled. Her eyes strayed over to where Steve stood in the doorway, face still a little pensive. "I'm gonna be okay, Dad. Promise."
Steve's face cleared. "I know, baby."
He was calmer now than he had been earlier. Bucky had explained some of the reasoning for Steve's near panic to Bruce, who had then been extremely thorough in examining Christy.
He hovered in the doorway as Bruce bundled up his med kit.
"Steve." Bruce said firmly. "Relax. I think Natasha's ordering dinner. Everyone is going to get better."
"Dad, come listen with us." Christy piped up. "We were listening to music earlier."
Steve rolled his eyes, but his shoulders settled down a fraction as he lowered himself to the floor by Christy's bed. "Would this music happen to come from a musical that starts with 'H' and ends with 'M' that my…that Sharon…"
"That your girlfriend told you about?" Pietro said, enunciating the phrase carefully. He coughed slightly, but his smirk was firmly in place.
Steve blushed lightly. "Yeah. My girlfriend." he echoed, his voice tinged with the slightest amount of wonder.
"Hey! A miracle! He says it!" Pietro cried. He then promptly fell back on the mattress, coughing and groping for his glass of water.
Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "It is not Hamilton. I said no more of that music for now. Besides, I have L'chaim stuck in my head, so we should listen to that."
"Nothing too bouncy." Bruce warned, exiting the room.
"Okay, so not L'chaim." Pietro said.
"Anything but Chaveleh." Christy mumbled. "That song is so depressing."
"Sunrise, Sunset." Wanda decided, having memorized most of the soundtrack titles, thanks to living on the same floor as both Christy and Pietro. She leaned over and clicked around on her laptop for a few minutes, until the strains of klezmer music echoed from the speakers.
Pietro started tapping out a beat on his chest. Wanda leaned back against her pillow and sighed. Christy was humming; a sound that was much distorted through her clogged nostrils.
And Steve actually laid his head back and closed his eyes, remembering Bucky playing records for him when he was sick. It was one of the few pleasurable memories he had of those occasions.
If it took everyone getting sick for him to have this moment with people he cared so much about…then maybe it was worth it.
The next night, Steve was once more pacing the living room. Despite Bruce and Natasha's visit (which had been a huge help), he still couldn't really relax. His nerves were tight and drawn, like before a fight, and his mind felt like it was careening off the edge of sanity.
Logically, he knew that everyone's health was improving. Emotionally…well, that was another story.
Out of nowhere, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Steve snapped nearly to attention and darted over to the door, quickly peeking through the window blinds. As he did so, his eyes widened with shock.
It can't be…there's no way…
He slowly opened the door, and there stood the last person he had expected to show up.
(Though, in hindsight, it should have been completely expected.)
"Sharon?" he said, disbelief coloring his tone.
Sharon, framed in the dim porch light, gave him a teasing smile. "Were you expecting someone else?"
"Uh, no! I, uh…" Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't expecting anyone, honestly."
"Nat thought you might need some back-up, so she gave me a call." Sharon started to enter the house with her bag.
Steve muttered something that sounded like "I'm going to murder Nat." Sharon raised an eyebrow.
"Should I leave?"
Steve's eyes shot wide in horror and Sharon felt bad for even joking about such a thing. "Hey, hey; I'm kidding. I just drove for hours, I'm not leaving any time soon. I'm sure you could use some help. When's the last time you slept?"
"Um…" Steve bit his lip. "I mean, I slept a little bit earlier."
"I mean a real, long, through-the-night sleep. And, speaking of that, when's the last time you ate?"
"The serum…"
Sharon placed her index finger on his lips. "Don't tell me that the serum makes you able to not sleep or eat for longer. You are not immortal. You need rest and food." She paused. "Nat…mentioned you weren't doing so well mentally, that you were having flashbacks. Wanna tell me something about that?"
Steve froze, feeling like a trapped deer.
"It's alright if you don't want to. I just thought…I mean, dads worry about their kids, but they usually don't worry that they've got some incurable disease, particularly if it's the same one…"
Breathing heavily, Steve sank onto the couch, his eyes staring blankly into space. Sharon sat down beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Talk to me." she urged.
There was a long silence. Then, Steve began to speak in a low whisper that Sharon had to strain to make out.
"She came home from work with a cough. I didn't…we didn't think it was anything strange. She worked as a nurse; she'd usually pick up something. But then…" he glanced up at Sharon, eyes haunted. "She didn't stop coughing. And when it had blood in it…we knew it was more than we could handle at home. She had to go to the hospital. They wanted to send her to a sanatorium, but…" Steve stopped, shaking his head ruefully. "Who the hell had money for that? Certainly not me. I could barely keep any kinda job and Bucky's family wasn't rolling in dough either…so that was it. There wasn't anything we could do. Nothing I could do. And I know it's not the same, but when all the coughing started, all I could think was 'I can't lose Christy, I can't lose Bucky again, I can't…"
Steve's voice broke and his eyes squeezed shut, almost in pain. Sharon slowly looped her other arm around his side and pulled his head onto her shoulder. He let out a hitching breath into the fabric of her shirt.
"All I do is lose people." he whispered. "I can't do it again."
For a long time, Sharon didn't even try to speak. She just sat there, Steve's head perched precariously on her not-very-broad shoulder, and held him.
Finally, his head rose. His eyes were red and her shoulder was wet.
"I'm sorry." he said lowly. "You…you didn't need to see that."
Sharon shook her head. "Yes, I did."
Steve ducked his head down. "I can't believe I'm fallin' to pieces over somethin' that happened so long ago…"
"I can." Sharon grabbed his chin and made him look her in the eye. "I can, because if my many sources are correct, your common response to pain is to bury it, ignore it, pray it goes away, and focus on everyone else's problems. Am I right or wrong?"
Her tone was so reminiscent of Peggy's (or Nat's) that Steve blurted out the answer unthinkingly. "Right."
"Thought so." Sharon smoothed his hair back. "You know that's not healthy."
"I know."
Sharon cupped her hand around his cheek. "I'm not leaving you."
Steve gave a weary sigh and closed his eyes. "I am a little tired."
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came tromping down the stairs, loud and a little unsteady. It was Bucky, who always got woken up easily.
"Who's…" he started, before taking in Sharon. "Oh. Hey, Carter. You come to bail us out?"
Sharon only felt the slightest jolt of shock on being called by her last name—mostly because she had a distinct feeling that Bucky was hearkening back to interactions with another Carter.
"More or less." she replied. "Nat called me up."
"Good old Tasha." Bucky mumbled, coming further down the stairs. "Want some help getting this punk to bed?"
Sharon smiled. "That would be nice."
"Buck…" Steve protested. But it was half-hearted, and he let Sharon guide him off the couch and over to the staircase.
"Don't 'Buck' me—you'd do the exact same thing if I was skippin' sleep!"
"Well, maybe…"
"Maybe, maybe." Bucky grumbled good-naturedly.
"I'm coming upstairs." Sharon said, walking behind the two men up the staircase. "You guys don't have a guest room, right?"
Both men stopped dead and gave each other looks of horror.
"I can sleep on the couch…"
"No, let me, she's my girlfriend and you're sick!"
"Boys." Sharon said, trying to hold back a laugh. "I appreciate the chivalry, but I'd rather not sleep in a sick person's bed." At Steve's noise of triumph, she added, "And Steve needs a good night's sleep. So I'll be taking the couch."
Both 'boys' gave long sighs. "Practical." Bucky muttered, as though the word was a curse. "Why you always gotta get the practical ones, Stevie?"
"Always?" Steve said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "As in the two times I've been romantically successful?"
"Go to bed." Sharon enunciated. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
Bucky gave a quick salute and an even quicker 'yes ma'am!' before lumbering into his room. Steve lingered, looking boyish and shy.
"Thanks." he whispered.
"No problem." Sharon replied. "Do you want...?"
Steve blushed. "M-maybe."
"C'mere, then." Sharon leaned over and kissed him on the lips. When they broke apart, she pressed another kiss to his forehead.
"Go sleep." she repeated. "I'll be here in the morning."
And with a lightness and security that he hadn't felt since his mother died, Steve turned into his room and pulled off his jeans and socks. He didn't even get to his shirt and boxers before he crashed headlong into bed, and surrendered to the world of dreams.
At last, he could start to believe that everything would be okay.
Christy stumbled into the bathroom a few mornings later feeling a lot better than she had in recent days. Her fever was gone, her cough was mostly gone, and her sinuses were much less clogged. After going to the bathroom, she stood up and turned around to flush the toilet, but as she did so, her eyes caught something strange.
Blood. Not a lot, but…blood.
In the toilet.
Immediately her heart rate sped up.
Okay…okay. This…this is that thing Wanda and Aunt Laura talked about. I'm okay. This is normal. I need, uh, that pad thing…
But upon checking the bathroom cabinets, but there was no sign of any of the implements she saw Wanda use once a month.
Okay…so…toilet paper? I guess? And then ask Wanda where she…
A knock sounded on the door, and Christy, so far inside her own mind, jumped back to reality and let out a tiny shriek.
"Christy?" It was Steve's voice. "Are you okay in there?"
"Dad?" Christy immediately cursed the sound of her voice; it was far too high and nervous—her dad would start panicking. "I…I need you to get Wanda. O-or Sharon. A girl. I need a girl! No boys!"
"Okay, baby." Steve's voice sounded calm—confused, but calm. "I'll go find one of them."
"Thanks!"
Steve raced down the stairs to find both Sharon and Wanda talking in the living room, along with Bucky and Sam.
"Uh…" Steve faced the girls. "Christy…something's wrong. S-she's in the bathroom and she said she needs a 'girl'…"
Wanda's eyebrows shot up immediately. Sharon looked puzzled for a moment, and then gasped. "How old is she?"
"Eleven…" Steve said, voice almost cracking. "Why does that matter?"
"I got this." Sam piped up. "You two go take care of whatever needs doing."
Both girls nodded and ran up the stairs. Sam looked at Bucky.
"Do you know what's goin' on?" he asked pointedly.
Bucky snorted. "I had three sisters, one of 'em younger than me. I think I got a pretty good guess."
"So what's wrong with her?" Steve cried.
"Nothing's wrong with her." Sam said. "She's growing up."
"I know that, but why is she in the bathroom…?"
"Steve, c'mon, it was just you and your Ma in that apartment. What happens to girls of a certain age once a month that's a sign they're…grown up?"
Steve frowned for a long minute, and then his head snapped up in realization.
Bucky grinned. "Bingo."
Steve's face contorted into an agonized expression. "W-what do I do?"
Bucky and Sam gave each other a look. "Maybe ask Sharon or Wanda on that one." Sam said delicately. "From what I understand, every girl is different. But it is completely normal."
"Completely normal?" Steve moaned. "My baby…"
My baby girl bleeding out of…there. For a week, Ma said. A week!
"She'll be fine." Bucky said. "You got a tough kid, Stevie. I think the best thing is just let her know you're there for her—whatever she needs."
Sharon rapped on the bathroom door. "Christy? Can I come in?"
A scraping sound indicated that the lock was turning, and a tiny voice said, "It's open."
Christy was sitting on the toilet, her pajama pants already pulled up. "There weren't any…any of those things in here…"
"Any pads?" Sharon questioned gently. "You can say the word. It's not a bad word. It's something you need for a normal bodily process. You don't have to be ashamed."
"I-I'm not, it's just…" Christy looked down. "It's weird."
"I know, sweetie, but you get used to it, I promise."
Another knock sounded. "Can I come in?" Wanda called.
Christy nodded, so Sharon opened the door. "I brought pads." Wanda said, as soon as the door was shut. "You know what to do with them, right?"
"Yeah. Aunt Laura showed me a while ago. We had a talk."
"Thank God for Laura." Wanda muttered, as Christy opened the packet up and settled the item onto her underwear.
"H-how often do I have to switch it?"
Wanda and Sharon glanced at each other. "It really depends on how much blood." Sharon said honestly. "The first day, every time, it's usually not as much. The second and third day are heaviest, and the later days are less. I'd say for you every…three hours? Four?"
Wanda nodded. "If it feels disgusting, change it. If not, keep it for a little longer. It is up to you."
"Okay." Christy pulled up her pajama pants and looked down at the tile floor. "It hurts."
"That's called cramps." Sharon said. "Did Laura…she explained why this happens, right?"
"Yeah. Every month your body gets ready for a baby and if you don't have a baby, it gets mad and trashes your insides."
Sharon snorted. "Close enough. But, yeah, so there's blood. And it all has to come out. That's why it hurts a little. Just take some ibuprofen, and if you need something stronger, say so. Different people have different cramps."
Wanda handed Christy two little ibuprofen pills. "You also sometimes…feel more emotions. Your emotions are…crazy, because of…getting ready for a baby, and then no baby. So some people cry very easily or get angry over silly things…"
"Oh…" Christy said quietly. "Maybe that's why I was so upset the other day."
"Probably. But if you feel too much, you know you can come talk to me."
"Or call me." Sharon added. "I know I'm not around as much, but…I'd like to hear from you sometime."
Christy nodded. "I'd like that."
Sharon took a look at the other two girls and suddenly had an idea.
"Neither of you two are really contagious anymore, right?"
Wanda shook her head, and Christy echoed the motion.
"Okay. So here's the plan. We're all going to get dressed. Christy, wear your favorite outfit. And then, we're going to go into town to celebrate."
"Celebrate?" Christy looked confused.
"You're growing up." Sharon explained. "It's a good thing."
"That sounds like a nice idea." Wanda said, a strange catch in her voice.
Sharon glanced over at her, as a sense of realization filled her mind. "Where were you…?"
"Still in the orphanage. So the other girls explained. It was not as bad as it could have been." Wanda gazed off into space, her eyes locked in a thousand-yard stare. "Pietro got very protective after that. More than before. We left soon after. Boys were starting to notice…"
Sharon winced. "I think maybe you could use a celebration, too. As a make-up."
Wanda gave a tiny smile. "I'd like that."
"Then we'll make it a double celebration. C'mon, let's get dressed."
Several hours later, the three returned from a trip into town, happy and laughing. The boys were still lying around the living room.
Pietro, never one to beat around the bush, got up and gave Christy a kiss on the forehead. "Congratulations. You ever need something, I'll do it." He gave a theatrical bow, his right arm pressed against his chest in a not-quite-mock gesture of fealty.
Christy giggled a little, but nodded solemnly. "Thanks, Pietro."
"My little girl's growin' up." Bucky said, shaking his head in an exaggerated manner.
"Your little girl?" Steve argued, as he gave Christy a hug.
"Our little girl." Sam placated. "Who's not exactly little. She's almost as tall as me!"
Steve and Sharon slipped aside for a private conversation, while Bucky, Pietro, and Sam remained in the room. They were watching a marathon of Harry Potter that was on TV, yet again, so the girls joined in.
"She's okay?" Steve asked quietly.
Sharon nodded. "She was a little freaked out, but every girl is the first time."
"I…" Steve looked barely shy of frantic. "Does it hurt?"
"The actual blood, no. The cramps associated with the process, yes. Just let her have ibuprofen and use a heating pad if need be. She also might be a little more…volatile emotionally than normal. She might get upset over relatively minor things, or cry more readily. Those are both perfectly normal."
Steve nodded, trying to take everything in. "Is there anything I can do?"
Sharon smiled softly. "Just be there for her. Don't act like it's a disease if she mentions it. Let her complain and be honest about how it feels. Remind her that you love her and she's beautiful. Can you do that?"
"Yeah…" Steve gave another careful nod. "I think I can do that. I just…I just want her to be okay."
"With you for a dad? I think she's about as okay as she could be."
Later that night, Steve stopped Christy as she was headed into her room. "Can you come here for a second, baby? I got something for you."
"Okay…" Christy walked into Steve's room. "What is it?"
Steve rummaged around in his nightstand drawer. "I got it in Wakanda, before we left. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but…I think now is a better occasion."
He drew out a tiny jewelry box and Christy gasped as he opened it, showing off the beautiful necklace inside.
The chain was gold and so was the setting; the stone was a bright aquamarine blue, cut in the shape of a heart.
"The lady at the jewelry place said it's blue crystal." Steve said quietly, a smile lining his face.
"It's so pretty." Christy whispered. "I love it. Thank you, Dad."
"You're welcome, baby. Want me to put it on you?"
"Okay." Christy pulled her hair off her neck as Steve struggled to undo the tiny clasp (why did necklace clasps always have to be so small?). He finally got it undone and fastened the necklace around Christy's throat.
"It hangs right." she said, fingering the stone. "Some chains are too short or too long, but this is perfect." She hugged him, her arms reaching as far as possible around his waist.
Steve hugged back, a sea of emotion welling up inside him.
"Is this the little girl I carried…I don't remember growing older—when did she?
When did she get to be a beauty…when did she grow to be so tall…wasn't it just yesterday…she was small?"
"When did you get so big?" he murmured. "Where's the little girl I carried of that foster care center, the one who stared up at the Tower with those big blue eyes…?"
"I'm still here, Dad! I just…changed. And…maybe that's okay? It's good to change, right? As long as you become someone better."
Steve sighed and let Christy untangle herself from around him. "Yeah. You're right, baby. It's okay to change."
It was okay to change. It was okay to let go. It was okay to both learn from the past, and leave it behind.
"I'm so proud of you." he whispered. "And I…I can't wait to see what you're gonna become."
Christy nodded, her mouth stretched the way it did when she was trying not to cry. "I love you, Daddy."
"Love you." Steve echoed.
Love. Whatever came next, whatever new changes were thrown their way, they would weather the storms as they always did: together.
"One season following another…laden with happiness and tears…"
So...yeah. I can't believe I finally wrote this. I had the idea for Christy getting her period for a while now, but I didn't know if I would actually write it or not. But, after some thought, I decided it would be a good way to address that she's growing up, and to challenge myself to write about something delicate in a professional, honest way.
Prestani- "Stop it" (Serbian/"Sokovian).
Okay, so I have two more chapters planned out for this story, before I plan on wrapping things up. I will be participating in NaNoWriMo this November, so while I'm excited to actually work on an original novel idea, it means that between school and that, I won't have much time for fanfic. So I plan to wrap up this story as fast as I can, and then pick back up in December with some one-shots and possibly a Christmas anthology (because I LOOOVVVEEE Christmas. SO DANG MUCH.) That's the plan so far, if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to...well, suggest. ;)
Tune in next time for Bucky and Wanda coming to some interesting conclusions and Christy learning why she doesn't want to go to public high school. (Or at least not Peter Parker's high school.) Until then...
Reviews are wonderful things...