Disclaimer: Marvel Characters are property of Marvel. Original Characters are mine. Just for fun, not for profit.

What Makes Life Worth Living

"Man, you guys can't even go on vacation without having to step in and be heroes." Seraphina shook her head as she steered her Tesla to the right. "Don't you ever get time to just…. Have fun?"

"Oh, we find plenty of ways to have fun." Nyssa grinned down at her hands. Sera snorted.

"I meant aside from screwing each other's brains out," she said pointedly. Nyssa rolled her eyes.

"It sounds so crude when you put it that way," she groaned. Sera chuckled.

"I was going more for primal and animalistic," she said, and imitated a wild animal growl. Nyssa giggled, shaking her head at her friend.

"We don't make those kinds of noises, but hey, whatever floats your boat," she said with a chuckle. "I don't judge."

"That's good," Sera replied cheerfully. "I did notice that you kind of skimmed over the part where you almost died, though."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," Nyssa said defensively.

"Do you?" Sera retorted. "Hypothermia is nothing to sneer at, Nyssa."

"I know, but I'm fine," she insisted. "I still managed to find thirty other people who got lost in the blizzard, and we were back before lunch."

"Which you promptly slept through," Sera pointed out. "And dinner. And you barely woke up for breakfast the next morning."

"I see you and Bucky have been talking," Nyssa observed.

"Commiserating, more like," Sera corrected. "Nobody would have blamed you for just resting and recovering. You didn't have to go back out in the cold to rescue everyone else."

"I know I didn't have to," Nyssa sighed. "But they needed my help."

"Are you going to miss that?" Sera asked, glancing in her rearview mirror. "Once you've got kids and can't go save people at the drop of a hat?" Nyssa turned her attention out of the window and didn't answer immediately.

"Where exactly are you taking me, again?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter in the passenger seat. Sera clucked her tongue at her.

"Uh-uh, no spoilers," she admonished. "You will see when we get there."

"I will?" Nyssa said brightly. "That'll be quite the trick." Sera groaned as she realized her phrasing.

"Ugh, that's not what I meant. You know what I meant." She shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't already plucked the answer out of my brain."

"You know I don't do that without permission," Nyssa replied.

"Except for when you do," Sera replied teasingly.

"In emergencies, when lives are at stake," Nyssa conceded. "Not to ruin my best friend's surprise."

"Thank heavens you're an ethical telepath," Seraphina retorted. "Don't worry, we're almost there."

"So I've sorted through these already," Steve announced, pointing. "This pile, I'm definitely including. These I got printed, but I'm having second thoughts about whether to include them. I'm too close to it, I need some help to decide which ones to include. I need at least five more for the show. I was hoping you could help me with that."

"Sure," Bucky agreed amiably.

"I'm not an art critic, though," Sam pointed out. "So all I can give you is my honest opinion."

"That's all I ask," Steve replied. He held up the first painting for judgement. It was another one from his memories of 1930's Brooklyn, a cityscape of bustling streets rendered in nearly photorealistic detail.

"Yes," Bucky said decisively. The scene almost made him homesick. Sam grimaced slightly.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I vote no."

"Okay..." Steve looked from Bucky to Sam and back again, sighed, and set the painting back in the same section. "How about this one?" He showed them a scene with a more modern flavor; a moment after a battle had ended, with rubble and debris scattered on the ground, and the shadowy outline of the foe they had felled beneath it. All of the Avengers were present, but instead of heroic poses, they were caught in the moment before they realized victory was theirs. Their expressions varied from fatigue and pain, to wild desperation or rage, gleeful belligerence or grim determination. Bucky picked out his silhouette lurking in the shadows in the background. Falcon was soaring into the foreground, wings spread impressively.

"Yes," Sam declared. "You should definitely include that one."

"I don't know," Bucky said dubiously. "I don't think that's one of your best ones." Steve gave them both a look of exasperation. He set that print down and picked the next one up.

"And this one?" he asked, turning the picture around to reveal a view of Central Park.

"Yes," Sam chorused with Bucky, then quickly glanced over at him and shook his head. "I mean, no." Steve leveled a look of tolerant annoyance at his two closest friends.

"Come on, you two," he said reproachfully. "This is important to me. It's my first art show. At an actual gallery. And it's opening tonight.

"All right," Sam replied with resignation. "Why don't you line all of them up against the wall, and we can pick the ones we like best?" Steve considered that for a moment, then nodded. Ten minutes later, Bucky and Sam both stood with arms folded over their chests as they contemplated the row of canvases lined up against the wall like colorful soldiers.

"Okay, watch your step, there's a little step up," Seraphina instructed, offering Nyssa a steadying arm. "And… here we are." Nyssa stopped, expanding her focus to determine who was in the room she now found herself in. A grin spread across her face.

"Surprise!" All of the women that Nyssa included in her closest circle had gathered in the event room at Maman. Wanda sat in the corner with Petra in her lap. Laura was there with Lila and Gabrielle. Michaela lounged on a couch next to Mackenzie, her oldest daughter, and Rani. Natasha was deep in discussion with Shuri. The smell of coffee, vanilla-scented candles and baked goodies filled the room.

"Oh, my goodness!" Nyssa exclaimed. "This is amazing and I love it, but… what is this?"

"Your baby shower, silly," Sera informed her. Nyssa gave her a surprised look. "We know how much you've wanted these babies, and we wanted to… come together as your village to help you celebrate."

"Aww…" Nyssa felt moisture welling up in her eyes. "That's so sweet. I'm so happy to have all of you, too."

"Okay, so this one is a definite no," Steve declared, turning the canvas paint-side towards the wall. "And the tree and the mounted police are both yes." Bucky and Sam exchanged glances, then nodded.

"I think those are your best ones," Sam agreed. "And that should be enough, right?"

"Yes," Steve confirmed. "Thanks to both of you for your help."

"Do you need any help pricing them?" Sam asked. "Because you can get a lot more for them now than back in the Forties."

"No, Sam," Steve sighed. "I've already discussed pricing with, ah, my agent." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Your agent?" he repeated. "When did you get an agent?" Steve looked down at his artwork lined up against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Seraphina thought it sounded more professional to refer to her that way," he admitted. "But she did help me get the show, and she read through all the contracts to make sure everything was fair, and she did some of the negotiating, so I guess it's the truth, anyway."

"Hey, Steve, why don't you have this one in the show?" Bucky had wandered over to another corner of the living room that had canvases stacked several deep, combing through Steve's rejected pieces. Some of them he had already seen, but there were a few new ones. He held up a large canvas towards Steve and Sam with a smirk. Steve immediately turned red.

"Put that away, Buck," he requested, shifting uncomfortably. Stretched languorously across the canvas was an elegantly sprawled Seraphina, clad in nothing but her curly red hair. Steve shook his head. "I'm not ready to share that one yet."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked. "It's really beautiful work."

"Yeah, stunning," Sam agreed, regarding the painting with wide eyes. Giving Bucky a dirty look, Steve took the canvas from him.

"It doesn't fit the theme of the show, and I don't have any prints of this one," Steve pointed out. "It's not in. That's not up for debate." He set the painting back down, image turned away from them.

"Any plans for another show with that kind of theme?" Bucky inquired, raising a roguish eyebrow. Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

"You can't have a theme from one painting," he argued. Bucky gave him a pointed look, and he sighed. "I dunno, Buck. Let's just get through this one first, okay?" Relenting, Bucky let the subject drop and picked up a stack of framed prints.

"Okay," he replied amiably. "Let's get these prints over to the gallery, then."

Nyssa sat down on the couch, grinning at the other women gathered in a half-circle around her. Sera set a large wrapped box covered in pastel baby footprints in her lap. Nyssa's deft fingers quickly found the seams and unwrapped it neatly, then found the lid of the box and lifted it up. She reached inside to find…

"Books?" she guessed, lifting one of them out of the container. Her fingers skimmed over the cover automatically, then paused. Her face registered surprise. "Braille books?"

"I know how worried you were about being able to read to them," Seraphina explained. "They don't make a lot of brightly colored children's books with Braille, so we figured out a way around that. We all got a few of our favorites, and then I went through with my handy Braille label maker and made sure all the words inside were translated. But they still have the words and the bright illustrations."

"Ohhh…." Nyssa breathed, tears welling in her eyes as she traced the raised dots on the cover, her lips moving soundlessly as she read the title. Setting that one aside, she reached into the package eagerly to explore what other treasures it held. One by one, she pulled the books out, running her fingers over the covers and reading the titles out loud. Soon a stack of more than a dozen books towered beside her on the couch. "These mean so much, I can't even express… words fail me." Sera sat down next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Nyssa laid her hand on top of Sera's, smiling through her tears at her friend.

"All right," Seraphina declared softly, putting another gift bag in Nyssa's lap. "Next one. This is from Shuri." Nyssa's head swiveled to look at the Wakandan princess in astonishment.

"Shuri, they wouldn't even exist if not for you. You don't need to give me another gift on top of that," she protested.

"Nonsense," Shuri proclaimed. "I couldn't let my babies go without the traditional blessings."

"Your babies?" Michaela repeated. Shuri nodded with a grin.

"Of course. You should see my brother's face when I call them that," she commented impishly. Nyssa reached in and pulled out a length of fabric. She ran the material between her fingers, looking slightly perplexed. "It's for carrying the babies. I can show you after they are here." Nyssa's expression brightened from confused to excited. She nodded and reached into the gift bag to discover a second piece of fabric similar to the first, a metal cylinder the size of her fist, and a pair of intricate vibranium ornaments. "You hang those over the babies when they are sleeping, and it helps them grow to be strong and courageous," Shuri elaborated. Nyssa held up the metal cylinder next.

"Is this traditional as well?" she asked Shuri slyly. Shuri laughed.

"No. That one, I made," she confessed. She took the squat canister from Nyssa, pressed a pair of indentations on the side, and set it on the table. Soft music drifted out of it, played on traditional Wakandan instruments. The room around them was transformed into an African savannah, an elephant herd meandering through in miniature. A herd of grazing gazelle raised their heads, then took off in graceful escape as the majestic forms of lions emerged at the edges of the scene. A flock of birds flew overhead, filling the skies with their cries. The terrain shifted to woods, with shadowy panthers lounging in low-hanging branches. A troupe of monkeys brachiated through the tops of the trees, sending a colorful cloud of fleeing birds into the sky. The image shifted again, to a breathtaking waterfall cascading down majestic cliffs.

"Holy shit, is that Wakanda?" Seraphina gasped. "All of it?" Shuri grinned broadly,

"My country is beautiful, is it not?" she asked rhetorically, but there were several awed and murmured agreements in the room.

Steve adjusted his tie nervously.

"Relax," Bucky advised, clasping his friend on the shoulder. "You look fine. Distinguished. The art looks phenomenal. All you have to do now is wait for people to show up."

"Right. And also, convince them to buy it. That's the easy part, right?" Steve's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"With these pictures, and your reputation, it should be," Seraphina commented as she strode through the gallery. She paused in front of one of the paintings for an extended look before crossing to Steve's side. She dropped a comforting kiss on his cheek. "Just be your usual polite and honest self, and I'm sure it won't take much to have them eating out of your hand."

"I'd prefer they just buy a painting," Steve muttered to himself, but then brightened slightly. "You look stunning." Seraphina smiled at him, smoothing down her dress.

"Thank you," she said. "And if it makes you feel any better, there's already a line outside." Steve's eyes widened, and he took a shaky breath in, then exhaled.

"You've faced the Red Skull, more than one alien invasion, HYDRA, killer robots and the Mad Titan," Bucky pointed out. "I'm sure you can handle a few hours with some stuffed-shirt art collectors." Steve gave him a dirty look.

"Probably not a good idea to insult potential clients," he noted. Bucky shrugged.

"You didn't say it," he replied. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself. I'll just be lurking at the edges, doing my best impression of… an art connoisseur." Steve nodded.

"Thanks again for being here tonight," he said gratefully. "I know these types of things aren't your favorite." Bucky shrugged.

"It's your big day," he reminded his friend. "I wouldn't miss it." People were beginning to trickle in, and Bucky cleared away to let Steve talk with potential buyers. It wasn't hard to get lost among the paintings. Viewing New York circa 1930 through Steve's eyes gave even Bucky a different perspective of the memories he had lost for so long. A bittersweet pang of homesickness washed over him as he looked at the print of the neighborhood they had spent so much time in as boys.

"If you want to buy some, you should," Nyssa said encouragingly from his elbow. He glanced at her in surprise.

"When did you get here?" he asked.

"Just now," she replied. "Did you want to get this one?"

"Maybe," Bucky hedged, eyeing the price tag under the title warily. "I want to be supportive, but I'm not sure I can justify spending that much on something you can't even see." Nyssa's silk-gloved fingers threaded gently through his.

"I can see how it makes you feel," she noted softly. "I think that's the perfect reason to get it." His hand tightened around hers.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Steve commented, coming up behind them. Nyssa turned to smile at him.

"Why wouldn't I come to support the newest professional artist in town?" she inquired teasingly.

"Well, it's not like you can… enjoy the gallery the same way as everyone else," Steve pointed out.

"I enjoy watching all of the people enjoying your art," Nyssa returned.

"And I don't know if I can call myself professional yet," Steve admitted. "I've had a few interested, but no sales yet."

"Well, you have one now," Bucky informed him solemnly. He pointed to the painting. "I want to buy that one."

"For you, Buck…" Steve began, but Bucky shook his head.

"No, no friend discounts. I'm paying list price," he insisted, pointing to the price listed on the title card.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked disbelievingly.

"I mean, that street has gotta be worth at least that much, don't you think?" Bucky asked pointedly.

"Did I hear a sale?" Seraphina interrupted, appearing on Steve's other side. Steve smiled.

"Bucky wants to buy that one," he informed her. She rewarded Bucky with a dazzling smile and took out her cell phone.

"Great! Cash or credit?" she asked. Steve glanced over his shoulder, and his expression shifted to one of shock.

"I wasn't expecting Ross tonight," he commented, half to himself. He glanced over at Bucky and Nyssa. "I better go mingle again. Thanks again, I'll catch up with you later." He turned and vanished into the slowly growing crowd.

"Great choice, you guys," Sera commented. She handed Nyssa back her card, then pressed a "sold" label over the price on the wall. She clasped Nyssa's hand briefly, then followed Steve back into the crowd. Bucky went back to studying the painting. Nyssa leaned into him.

"Happy with your purchase?" she inquired. Bucky nodded slowly.

"I could tell you some stories about things that happened on that street…." He said with a half-smirk, then glanced down at her. "But I probably shouldn't."

"Oh, no, you'll have to tell me now," Nyssa teased. "At least the two most exciting stories." Bucky chuckled. His hand tightened on hers, inviting her to look at the painting through his eyes, and he soon felt the familiar sensation that told him she was sharing his vision.

"You see these steps right here?" he asked, pointing. Nyssa nodded. "That was where the Napolis lived…"

The crowd shrank and grew, and Bucky noticed Nyssa beginning to lean on him more heavily. He didn't mind, but it did make him concerned. She still hadn't fully recovered from their trip yet, and her exposure there had added a touch of frostbite to the hand that was still healing from being burned. She hadn't been complaining, but he knew it hurt her, and she had been more easily fatigued. He could tell that she was tired, and being in the middle of a crowd, some friends but mostly strangers, was taking its toll. When she stumbled over a plate that someone had carelessly left on the floor, Bucky caught her and pulled her to an unoccupied corner.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Nyssa nodded.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, then sighed. "It's just been a long day. A really amazing day, but… long. I probably should go home and get some rest."

"If you want to go, you should go," Bucky encouraged her. "Steve appreciated that you came. Nobody expects you to stay the entire night."

"But you want to," Nyssa realized out loud. Bucky nodded.

"Do you want me to walk you home first?" he asked. Nyssa shook her head.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him good night, then disappeared into the crowd.

Bucky's purchase may have been the first of the evening, but it was not the last. Almost a quarter of the paintings had sold stickers beside them by the time the gallery closed for the night. Steve invited him out for celebratory drinks after everything had wrapped up. It was late when Bucky finally returned to their apartment. He expected Nyssa to be fast asleep, so was surprised to hear soft guitar chords and melodic singing.

"...swim through a silver moonbeam lagoon, let them carry you to the farthest star…" She stopped singing as Bucky approached the closet, her hands muting her guitar strings self-consciously. She was seated cross-legged on the floor of the closet, facing the container that held their still-gestating offspring. "Is it later than I think or are you home early?" she asked sheepishly.

"It's two-thirty in the morning," he informed her, leaning against the closet doorframe and folding his arms over his chest. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"I tried," she replied. "I really did. Just couldn't get to sleep." The strings of her guitar hummed softly as she moved her hands away, folding them on top of the guitar instead. "They're getting close, I think. They can hear now. They know when I'm near. I didn't feel right… leaving them alone."

"They're not alone," Bucky reminded her. "The bed is only eight feet away. And you need sleep, too."

"I know," Nyssa acknowledged, but didn't move. Bucky sighed and crossed into the closet, sitting beside her on the carpet.

"Are you writing songs for them?" he asked. Nyssa nodded.

"I still remember the songs my dad used to sing for me all the time," she said softly. "He wrote most of them. It was something special between us. I just… wanted to have something special for them, too." Her fingers moved deftly across the strings again, picking out a gentle melody. She paused and leveled a look at Bucky that made him momentarily forget that she was blind. "You should talk to them, too, so they know your voice." Bucky cleared his throat uncomfortably. He wasn't sure about talking at a cannister in the closet. Intellectually, he knew what it contained, but it still seemed very distant and clinical. Nyssa tapped on the display, and it lit up, projecting the image of the two babies within the cylinder. They were curled up against each other, the head of one nestled against the other's chest, arms and legs entangled awkwardly. Bucky's eyes widened. He had forgotten the emulator had a display function, and Nyssa didn't tend to use it. He was surprised to see that the babies looked like… well, babies. Their eyes were closed, but they had rounded cheeks, cute button noses, and the start of what looked like soft curls on their heads. "Maybe that will make it easier?" Nyssa suggested. Bucky stared at them a few moments longer, then glanced speculatively at Nyssa.

"Maybe you could teach me," he suggested, gesturing to her instrument. She frowned slightly.

"You want me to teach you to play the guitar?" she asked incredulously. He chuckled softly.

"Yes," he replied. "I can see that music is going to be a part of our family, and I don't sing, so…" He spread an open hand, letting the gesture complete his sentence. Nyssa grinned, excitement glinting in her eyes. She handed him the guitar she had been cradling in her lap, then got to her feet and darted to the back of the closet. She returned a moment later with another guitar and seated herself across from him.

"Okay, so these are both in standard tuning," she instructed, twisting the tuner pegs as she plucked a string and changed the pitch slightly. "The best place to start, I think, is with some basic chords." She positioned her middle and ring finger on the second and third fret and strummed. "E minor." Bucky imitated her hand position and motion, and was rewarded by his guitar making the same sound as hers. Nyssa grinned and nodded encouragingly. "Great. Now, C major, or just C. You leave the sixth string out of this one." She repositioned her fingers and demonstrated. Bucky copied her again and winced as his chord sounded slightly sour in comparison. He adjusted his left hand and tried again, with better results. "That's it," Nyssa praised. She guided him through G, D, A minor, E and A. It soon became a game, with her shifting to a new chord and Bucky trying to match it as quickly as he could. The game ended in mutual laughter.

"Keep practicing those," Nyssa said encouragingly. "Once you have a few chords down, you can play just about any song you hear on the radio." Bucky looked at her in disbelief.

"Just seven chords to play any song?" he asked skeptically. Nyssa shook her head.

"No, you're right. Most of the time you don't need all seven. Most songs just use four," she informed him with a grin. He stared at her, still unconvinced. With a smirk, she began strumming her guitar, her fingers making now-familiar shapes as she played. She began to sing, and Bucky recognized the song within a few bars. She sang a couple lines of that song, then switched to a different one, then another, then another, all the while playing the same four chords on her guitar. Bucky watched her performance with amused incredulity as she included more and more songs. She finally finished, and the chords that filled the closet faded away. Bucky shook his head.

"You'd think people would want a little more variety," he mused. Nyssa shook her head.

"Not necessarily," she corrected him. "People like what's familiar. Listening to familiar music gets the dopamine flowing through the mesolimbic and mesocortical pathways, commonly referred to as the reward centers in the brain, as well as activating the limbic and paralimbic regions, which process emotion. Lights 'em up like a Christmas tree." Chuckling, Bucky leaned forward and kissed her.

"Mmm, I love it when you talk nerdy to me," he said teasingly. She made a face at him but laughed back. Bucky set aside the guitar and extended his hand towards her. "Come on, let's go to bed."

It's true, most pop songs do just use four chords. Often the same four. If you don't believe me, look up "4 Chord Song" by Axis of Awesome.

Thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, karina001 and Qweb for your comments. I'm glad you're still enjoying the story!