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

Aftershocks

Clad in black, her expression somber and solemn, Nyssa drew her bow across the strings of her violin, filling the hall with exquisite and mournful music. Silence fell over those gathered there as she played, her fingers dancing over the strings, the melody she coaxed from her instrument telling the story of a man who had come from hardship, built himself into the hero they had all known and loved, and then fallen less than a week prior. Natasha had ventured into unknown space to find his remains, returning with his headless corpse and chagrined expression. He had been cremated, per his last wishes, and his ashes were displayed in a carved box that Bucky had made for the occasion. Outside Avengers Tower, flowers and candles left by mourners and well-wishers scattered across the sidewalk and leaned against the fence, making it difficult to pass by. Inside, the line of people come to pay their respects wound through the hall and spilled out onto the lawn outside. They filed past pictures and tributes, touched the famous bow, murmured condolences to his red-eyed widow and forlorn children. Tony paused, grasping her hand with both of his.

"Don't hesitate to ask," he told her earnestly, for once without his trademark facetiousness, "whatever you need for any of the kids, tuition, anything, don't worry about it. I'll make sure they are provided for." Laura smiled weepily at him, the tears that lay so close to the surface beginning again.

"Thank you, Tony," she said softly. He nodded at her.

"He was a good man," he assured her. She nodded acknowledgement. Finding himself without words, he nodded reflexively in response, then moved on to the refreshment table. Laura next found herself enfolded in a warm hug, which she returned. She smiled sadly at Natasha, whose red and puffy eyes rivaled her own.

"I guess we're both widows now," Laura joked weakly. Natasha tried to smile, but only managed to raise one corner of her mouth.

"You know whatever you need, I'm here for you," Natasha vowed softly. "And he'll never be forgotten. Not as long as we are alive." Laura nodded, finally releasing Natasha from her sisterly embrace.

"You'll always be part of our family," she assured the Russian woman. Natasha's pained smile was slightly wider this time. She moved on to wrap Lila in a warm and sympathetic hug. The teenager clung to her, tears starting up again. Bucky hesitated as he stepped closer to Laura, but the woman smiled at him wanly.

"Bucky," she breathed, and pulled him close, her arms wrapping around him. She sagged against him, borrowing for a moment his strength as he shared her burden of grief. "He saw you as a brother, you know," she whispered against his ear. Touched, Bucky swallowed down the lump that briefly closed his throat, then murmured that it was mutual. She clung to him for a second before releasing him and turning to Steve behind him. Bucky moved to the other side of her. Grace was hiding mostly behind her mother, her little arms wrapped around Laura's leg. Cooper was grim-faced and stoic, carefully keeping all emotion from his face. Lila was dabbing fresh tears from her cheeks. Gabriele was standing back a little from the line, as if she wasn't certain she belonged there, but her grief was as evident as the others'. Nate fidgeted with his pressed and starched funeral clothes, his face blotchy and eyes red-rimmed. Bucky gripped Cooper's hand in his, but didn't let go right away. The stone-faced Cooper looked up at him sharply.

"I just want you to know," he informed Clint's oldest son, "everything that he did, he did for you. For all of you. He told me all he wanted was to leave a better world for you to live in." Cooper's eyes widened, and he looked carefully at Bucky for a long moment before he nodded contemplatively. Bucky felt a tug at his pant leg, and crouched down to eye level with Grace, who was staring at him with round, dark eyes. He thought she was going to say something to him, but instead she just flung her arms around his neck, her face pressing into his cheek. He heard her sniffle, and put comforting arms around her.

Half an hour later, the receiving line had mostly dispersed. Laura had retreated to a corner near some pictures of Clint, a snifter of brandy clutched in one hand. Natasha huddled conspiratorially beside her. The younger children had retreated to a corner where a basket of toys had been provided. They were loud, but not as disruptive as Bucky had expected. Nyssa had finally put her violin carefully back into its case and appeared at Bucky's side. He had noticed she was using her hands more gingerly than before, although she hadn't mentioned any injuries to him.

Truthfully, he hadn't had much of a chance to talk with her in the time that had elapsed since the battle. They had gotten home with the twins just in time to put them back to bed, and Nyssa had passed out as soon as she lay down. His own exhausted slumber lasted for longer than he typically slept. He was awakened by Jameson and Brooklyn crawling on him. After they started jumping on his head and his back, he decided to abandon any further attempts to doze and got up to make them breakfast. Nyssa had remained pale and still in the bed, and didn't awaken until nearly suppertime, blinking blearily. She was awake long enough to eat a few bites of dinner, then played with the twins before putting them back to bed. The next few days had been busy, filled with official reports of the battle, assessing the damage the planet had taken in the attack, and otherwise dealing with the aftermath. It would be weeks, probably, until a full accounting had been made. In addition, Nyssa had returned to childcare duties and helped Laura with arrangements for the memorial service, shouldering what she could of the responsibilities to take the weight off the grieving widow.

"…came out of nowhere, like a comet, and the next thing I knew, that ship was burning to the ground," Rhodes was relating. The Avengers were clustered together, recounting memories of Barton and of that final battle.

"What, like some kind of human torch?" Sam said incredulously. "That explains a lot, actually. But where did they come from? The only one I know of that's still living is locked up in cryofreeze in Avengers Tower." Tony shook his head.

"Nope, Ignatius has been missing since the battle," he said casually.

"Not missing," Nyssa contradicted as she appeared beside Bucky. He slipped an arm around her shoulders automatically, and she leaned against him. "It's all in my report. I gave him the option of fighting alongside us, and he took me up on it." This earned her surprised looks from all present, including her husband. Steve raised his eyebrows at her.

"Did you offer some kind of incentive to get him to do that?" he inquired. Nyssa shook her head.

"Not really. I was fairly sure he would do the right thing once he learned the planet was at stake," she declared.

"That was it? Nothing else?" Bucky asked skeptically. He knew Nyssa could be persuasive, but sometimes she surprised even him. Nyssa shrugged nonchalantly.

"I may have mentioned that there was a possibility he could join the Avengers," she admitted, then angled her face towards the floor. "That didn't seem to be much of a motivator, though. He never returned after the battle. In fact, it appeared that he transported himself directly into the sun."

"He did what?!" Both Sam and Tony chorused in shock. Nyssa sighed.

"I think it might have been a form of suicide," she speculated. "Even he only lasted a few seconds in the heart of a star." She frowned and looked around at the group. "Did nobody read my report? I discussed all of this in great detail."

"Sorry, Nys," Steve said apologetically. "I've been a little busy. And preoccupied." He exchanged glances with Seraphina beside him, holding an already-sleeping Saoirse. Bucky vaguely recalled that their daughter had been sick. Nyssa nodded.

"I think we all have been," she conceded. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed Bucky on the lower edge of his jaw. "The kids are getting overstimulated and over tired. I'm going to take them home and put them to bed," she informed him. Bucky frowned, slightly disappointed that she was leaving so soon, but nodded.

"I'll see you when I get home, then," he replied, then raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're still awake." She chuckled softly at him.

"You'll see me either way," she replied dryly, "but I may not see you." He snorted and shook his head.

"Good night, Doll," he murmured. She smiled at him, then turned to go, leaving her hand linked with his until the distance between them forced her to drop it. He watched her wade into the horde of playing children and extract their twins, then leave with their small hands linked with hers.

The hour grew very late, and the crowd at the memorial had thinned. At the bar, Steve and Bucky raised a pair of shot glasses and clinked them together.

"To Barton," Steve said.

"To Clint," Bucky agreed. They both downed their shots and set the glasses back down. Steve swallowed the fiery liquid down, then frowned down at the empty glass, turned upside down on the bar.

"You know," he mentioned, "it occurs to me that there's an awful lot of people who deserve more honor than we had a chance to give them." Bucky nodded thoughtful agreement.

"Well, it's not too late," he pointed out. Glancing over the bar, he quickly jumped behind it. Deftly, he scooped a stack of shot glasses in his right hand and lined them up, little fallen soldiers marching across the bar. With his left hand, he neatly filled each glass from a bottle behind the bar, then set it aside. Picking up the one at the end of the row, he held it up to Steve. "To the Howling Commandos." To his surprise, Steve shook his head.

"No, not as a group," he contended. "That wasn't all they were." Bucky raised his eyebrows at his oldest friend.

"Gonna take a running shot at getting good and drunk, eh?" he observed. Steve raised his shot glass.

"To Dum Dum," he intoned. Bucky nodded, a short, sharp jerk of his head, clinked his glass against Steve's and tossed the strong liquor back. They drank to Frenchie, to Gabe, to Monty and to Jim, to other soldiers who had fought and fallen alongside them. Taking a deep breath, Bucky raised a toast to Howard Stark, which took Steve by surprise. In response, he raised his glass to Peggy. Bucky had to refill their shots before they began recounting all those they had known and lost from their time aboard Sanctuary, and everyone since then. By the time Bucky was strolling home, he thought he felt the start of a slight buzz, though he wasn't certain if the warm feeling in his middle was due to the alcohol or the ritual and bonding with Steve. It did manage to slightly thaw the edge of the cold knot of grief twisted in his stomach. He yawned and stretched before crawling into bed beside a still-restless Nyssa. Before he could even lean over to give her a kiss, he was asleep.

"Are you sure you're up to this trip?" he asked in concern. Nyssa raised her eyebrows at him as she shrugged into the Patchwork Doll tunic that had hung in the closet for the past two and a half years.

"What do you mean by that?" she inquired carefully. Bucky shook his head at her.

"Just that I know you're still exhausted. You haven't been sleeping well since the battle, you barely eat, and you've spent all your waking hours helping everyone else," he pointed out. She paused, the look of surprise on her face giving him a small thrill of victory. It wasn't often he was able to catch her off guard. Crossing the room to her, he put his hand on her shoulders. "You're the one who preaches about self-care," he reminded her gently. "Where did yours go?" Nyssa sighed.

"You're not wrong," she grudgingly admitted. "But what else would you have me do? I've gotten requests from sixteen different regions, people begging me to come help find survivors. Are you suggesting I tell them they will just have to die because I could really use a nap?" In the aftermath of the Vruuxel's brief but brutal attack, the planet was still undergoing aftershocks. Earthquakes had been reported around the globe, triggering tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, wildfires, death and destruction. California and Canada were fighting wildfires worse than ever experienced before. Ash from the erupting volcanoes and billowing smoke obscured the skies, making air travel nearly impossible and rescue efforts agonizingly slow. Bucky shook his head slowly.

"No," he sighed. "I just hate to see you burning yourself out."

"Well then," she quipped with a self-deprecating smirk, "good thing you won't be there to watch."

"Just promise me you'll remember to eat. And sleep," Bucky admonished. Nyssa smiled ruefully.

"I will. When I have time. The fridge is pretty well stocked, and there's some ready-made meals in the freezer for when the days get busy. Brooklyn is going through a phase where she mostly just wants chicken nuggets, but keep offering her other things, too. Jamie will still eat most things, but if Brooklyn gets stubborn about her food, he will follow her lead. Try to get them outside for at least a few hours; it really makes a big difference at bedtime." Bucky blinked at her sudden shift into mother mode. "Make sure they don't get too much screen time, and especially not for a couple hours before bed. On Mondays they like to go to storytime at the library in the morning. The rec center has a drop-in play time on Tuesday afternoons. On Wednesdays, they have swimming lessons with Marquis at 2." Bucky interrupted her litany with a snort.

"Swimming lessons?" he repeated. She nodded.

"Of course. How else would they learn to swim?" she inquired.

"My father threw me in East River and called instructions from the bank," he disclosed with a shrug. Nyssa chuckled.

"And how did you enjoy that?" she asked slyly.

"It was… slightly terrifying," he admitted. She nodded knowingly.

"The twins have been loving their swimming lessons," she reflected. "The rest is optional, but I would try to get them to that, at least. Unstructured time to play is good, too. And there's always the virtual reality room when it's not being used for combat training. Friday has a few of the kids' favorite settings on preset."

"I'm sure we'll survive," Bucky said sardonically. While it was true Nyssa shouldered the bulk of the childcare duties, it wasn't as if he'd never done it before.

"I know you will," she assured him. "Maybe you'll even enjoy it."

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" he asked. She knelt down and put Darshan's working harness on him. The dog seemed to sit a little straighter as she did up the buckles.

"A week or ten days, maybe two weeks," she guessed, then her expression became grim. "After that, the chances of finding survivors dramatically decreases." She took a step forward and placed her hands on his chest, her face turning up towards his. "When I come back, I'm going back on inactive status again. I already talked to Nick about it. I know I'm pushing hard right now, but it's temporary." Bucky put his hands around the small of her back, then traced up along her spine to her shoulders, pulling her closer. He smiled when she shivered slightly. It was nice to know he could still affect her that way.

"When you get back, we should have a date night," he suggested. She laughed softly.

"It has been awhile, hasn't it?" she mused.

"Much too long," he confirmed, bending to capture her mouth with his. He lingered there, one hand moving up to tangle in the relaxed curls she had allowed to grow long again. He had known that he didn't want her to go, although he knew she was needed, but he abruptly realized how much he didn't want her to leave. He broke off the kiss and took a breath, preparing to argue her out of it, but she shook her head and stepped back.

"This is something I have to do," she reminded him. "You and the kids will be fine. We can try video chats every night before bed, assuming I'm someplace it's safe to do so." Sliding the teleportation ring onto her finger, she picked up her suitcase with one hand and rested the other on Darshan's head. "I love you." In a blink, she was gone, along with her dog. Bucky stared for a moment at the spot she had occupied just a heartbeat before. Heaving a sigh, he made his way down the hall and paused outside the twins' bedroom. In the gentle light of the nightlight, he could see the tangle of blankets with arms and legs poking out, and Brooklyn's tousled curls spilling over the pillow. Despite having separate beds, the twins still preferred to sleep in the same one, though they alternated which one most nights. Bucky stood watching them slumber for several minutes, then decided he might as well turn in, too.

Thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, heleana1, karina001, SomebodyWhoCares and Qweb for your comments and feedback. I know Clint's death was shocking, but I did consider it carefully before doing it, so it wasn't just a random, for-the-hell-of-it choice.

This chapter is a bit shorter than mine typically are. It was going to be quite a bit longer, but the next part is slightly different in tone for most of it, so I decided to let this stand alone. Coming up next, Bucky as a solo dad and more twins mischief! Stay tuned!