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

Paternal Love

"…and then Daddy picked me up and spun me around, and then the car went rrrrr and Daddy went waaugh!" Brooklyn's arms pinwheeled dramatically as she flung her body backwards, illustrating the day's events for her mother over the video chat. Nyssa was watching with eyebrows raised, her smile looking somewhat fixed. Jameson sat with legs crossed in front of the screen, cradling Herbert. They both were dressed in their pajamas. Bucky had allowed them to stay up a bit later than usual to talk to their mother. Brooklyn had become very kinetic, caroming off of walls and jumping on everything. Jameson wasn't as hyperactive, but he had had four meltdowns in the fifteen minutes preceding her call. Bucky could tell they needed to go to sleep, and was looking forward to bedtime.

"Really?" Nyssa finally responded, after a hesitation that lasted a heartbeat too long. "Then what happened?"

"Then we went home," Brooklyn summed up airily. "As soon as Daddy's legs healed enough."

"And I found Herbert!" Jameson added helpfully, holding his frog up so she could get a better view. Nyssa's smile widened, her expression softening as she gazed at her son.

"Where is Herbert going to sleep tonight?" Nyssa asked. Jameson clutched the amphibian to his chest.

"In bed with me," he replied, as if it should be obvious. Nyssa smiled, but shook her head slightly.

"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetie," she said gently. "What if you rolled over on him and smushed him in your sleep?" Jameson shook his head, hiding Herbert protectively in his hands.

"I wouldn't!" he protested defensively.

"We got a terrarium and lights at the pet store this afternoon," Bucky interjected from the background, reminding his son and informing his wife at the same time. "Herbert has a safe place to sleep tonight." Jameson's face crumpled, and he dissolved in tears. Bucky scooped him up, and Jameson immediately turned his face in to soak Bucky's shirt. Nyssa gave him a sympathetic look.

"I guess I better let you get them to bed," she observed. "Are you okay?" He was still sore, and the limp hadn't quite disappeared, but he was hopeful that a night of rest would change that.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he fibbed, shifting his weight from one aching leg to the other as he patted his sobbing son comfortingly on the back. Brooklyn cartwheeled through the living room, collided with the coffee table and collapsed on the floor with a wail. Nyssa grimaced sympathetically.

"Good luck," she said regretfully, then ended the call. Bucky picked up his other crying child and carried them both to their bedroom.

He finally emerged – both children asleep and Herbert settled safely in his new terrarium – almost an hour later. As tired as they obviously were, getting them to settle down enough to sleep had been a challenge. Bucky yawned as he walked through the living room. He paused and looked over towards Balaur, perched in his habitat. The dragonet flapped his wings, and Bucky was startled to see the pinions collide with both sides of the cage before they were at full extension.

"That is getting a little cramped for you, isn't it?" he realized. Balaur trilled and tilted his head to the side. Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Balaur's habitat already took up more of the living room than he liked, and he wasn't certain how large the dragon would get by the time he reached his adult size. He would have to mull over the problem. But not tonight.

By the third or fourth morning, Bucky was starting to feel like the mornings at least were getting into a routine. It still took a ridiculous amount of time to get everyone dressed and out of the apartment. Even if they were only going across the hall. Bucky knocked on the door to the apartment that Steve now shared with Seraphina and Saoirse. Brooklyn was poking Jameson in the side repeatedly, giggling when he whined and pushed her hand away.

"Brooklyn, stop that," Bucky chided. "He's telling you he doesn't like it, so you need to stop. His body, his rules."

"It's open!" Steve's tenor called from inside. Bucky opened the door, and the twins dashed through. He followed them as they darted into the living room. Steve had his easel set up in the corner, where the natural light was best. Now that his visitors had arrived, he set his palate aside. In another corner, another easel was set up in miniature. Saoirse, dressed in her diaper and a paint-splattered smock, was enthusiastically smearing paints on her own child-sized canvas. Her face was smeared in green paint, and blue and brown streaked through her strawberry blonde pigtails. Brooklyn and Jameson ran over to greet her. Jameson immediately threw his arms around the little toddler, getting paint all over his clothes. Saoirse patted his face and hair, leaving brown and yellow fingerprints.

"Whoa, pal, slow down there," Steve suggested. "Let's get the smocks on first." Jameson obediently stood back and raised his arms up. Steve deftly swooped a vinyl cover over him. "And I've got an easel set up for you right over here." He turned Jameson by the shoulders and steered him to one of a pair of easels he had set up on an opposite wall. Joyfully, Jameson dipped the end of a paintbrush in green paint and began moving it in broad swaths across his canvas.

"Me, me, me!" Brooklyn demanded, jumping up and down with her arms raised over her head. Steve chuckled as he put a smock on her, too.

"There ya go, Brook," he announced. She turned to her canvas with an intent expression.

"Daddy, what should I make?" she asked, tugging on Bucky's shirt.

"Whatever your heart desires," Bucky replied. "I'm sure whatever you decide on will be beautiful." Brooklyn huffed and turned back to her canvas, her face a dark study of concentration. Satisfied that both of his children were occupied, at least for the moment, Bucky turned his attention back towards Steve. "So what are you working on nowadays?"

"Experimenting with some mixed media," Steve replied, gesturing to his canvas. Amidst the paint, Bucky could see scraps of cloth, stone and wood combining to create a landscape unlike anything he had seen before. "What do you think?"

"It's different from your other work," Bucky observed. Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that good or bad?" he queried. Bucky shrugged.

"Neither, it's just different," he equivocated.

"But do you like it?" Steve pressed. Bucky stared at the canvas for a moment thoughtfully, then nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I do," he decided. Steve nodded seriously.

"Well, good. Because I was thinking of making it as a gift for Nyssa, so it might end up hanging in your house," Steve declared. Bucky gave him a surprised look.

"Really?" he asked. Steve nodded.

"In a way, she was kind of inspiration for this," he explained. "Phi had the idea. Since she can't see most of my other work, if I put different textures in, she would be able to 'see' it by feel." Bucky gave Steve an astonished look, touched by the gesture.

"That's… really thoughtful, pal. I'm sure she will love it," he remarked.

"No, Jamie, stop it!" Brooklyn interrupted their conversation with a howl, followed by an ear-piercing shriek. Bucky turned to see Jameson streaking blue paint through the middle of Brooklyn's canvas. Brooklyn was drawing back one hand, still clutched around her paintbrush, and Bucky quickly waded in to intervene before she punched Jameson in the nose.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bucky rebuked. "We don't solve problems with our fists. Hitting hurts."

"But he ruined it!" Brooklyn wailed. Now that the initial flare of temper was over, the upset came through. Bucky turned his fatherly expression towards his son.

"Jamie, keep your paintbrush on your own canvas," Bucky reminded him. "Painting on your sister's made her very upset." Jameson regarded his wailing sister, and the smug look on his face faded slightly. "Now, Babydoll…" Bucky crouched down next to her, and she buried her tear-streaked face in his shoulder, her body heaving with sobs. Bucky put comforting arms around her. "I know that's really upsetting."

"I would be furious," Steve contributed helpfully. Jameson hung his head. Brooklyn's tears slowed slightly, and she pulled back to look at her father with a sniffle. Bucky rubbed her shoulder.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked. "Do you want to keep painting on that picture, or start over with a new one?" Brooklyn sighed, looking at the paint-streaked canvas sadly.

"New one," she decided, punctuating her words with another sniffle. Bucky nodded.

"Okay." Standing, he switched the spoiled painting for a fresh, blank canvas, moving her painting station further away from her brother's while he was at it. Jameson was still standing with hands hanging by his side and head bowed, expression ashamed. Bucky picked him up.

"Sorry, Daddy," he said softly. Bucky shook his head slightly at him.

"I'm not the one you need to say sorry to," he reminded him gently. "I'm not the one whose picture you ruined." Jameson's face crumpled, and for a moment he looked like he might cry. He looked over Bucky's shoulder at his sister.

"Sorry, Brook," he called out. Brooklyn ignored him, continuing to paint on her new canvas.

"She might still be mad for a while," Bucky noted gently. "And that's okay." Jamie's face fell.

"I didn't want her to be mad," he whined. "I thought she would laugh." Bucky nodded.

"Sometimes people don't react how we think they will," he noted. "Why don't you give her some space for now and work on your painting, let her work on hers? Maybe she'll be ready to accept your apology later." He set Jameson back down on the floor. Shoulders still drooping, he wandered back to his easel. Bucky turned as he heard Steve chuckle.

"That's definitely not how your father would have handled that," Steve noted. Bucky grinned.

"Yeah, he probably would have sent me to my room with a sore ass. Well…" He shrugged. "That was then. Times have changed. And Nyssa had me read about twenty books on child psychology, child development, attachment parenting…" Steve raised his eyebrows at him.

"Did she give you a test on them, too?" he asked playfully. Bucky shook his head.

"Just the ones she wrote," he joked back. Steve's eyebrows rose even higher. Bucky glanced over at his children. Jameson was creeping closer to his sister, his expression still distressed. Brooklyn kept her back to him. Oblivious to the tension between her friends, Saoirse was smearing bare, paint-covered hands across her own canvas. "Really, it's more of an extended practical exam, anyway," he noted. He looked back at his friend. "How has it been going for you, now that Seraphina is back at work and you're mostly home with Saoirse?" Steve grinned.

"You mean, now that I get to spend my days creating art and playing with my daughter, occasionally leaving to go save the world?" he quipped. Bucky grinned.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he noted. Steve shook his head and turned back towards his own work in progress.

"It's not quite how I thought married life was supposed to go," he admitted. "It's not how it was when we were growing up. But I can't say I have much to complain about."

"Brooooklyyyyn…" Jameson whined, standing behind his sister. She seemed like she was still ignoring him, but suddenly she whirled around and slashed her paintbrush across his face, leaving a broad stripe of yellow-streaked pink stretching from his forehead to his cheek. Pointing at her handiwork, she let out a screech of glee. After a moment, Jameson's look of surprise and consternation melted into good-natured mirth, and he joined in, giggling. Their laughter was infectious. Saoirse chortled adorably, turning around to look at the older children. Bucky chuckled, enjoying their merriment, and Steve grinned.

Sam's eyes narrowed, shifting side to side as he contemplated his opponents. He glanced from his cards to the player on his left, then to his right.

"Do you have a… blue dolphin?" he asked. Brooklyn shook her head.

"Go fish!" she announced. Sam groaned and drew another card from the draw pile.

"Man, how am I losing to a baby?" he groused. Brooklyn frowned at him.

"I am not a baby!" she protested.

"I mean, technically they're toddlers," Bucky pointed out reasonably. Sam shot him a dirty look.

"Oh, right, that changes things completely," he said sarcastically.

"They are very bright toddlers, though," Izumi noted. "I'm impressed." Brooklyn dimpled at her, swiveling in her seat.

"Auntie Izumi, do you have a goldfish?" she asked.

"I do!" Izumi replied, obediently handing over the requested card. Brooklyn proudly laid the match down on the table in front of her, beside the other seven sets she had already paired, then held up her empty hands.

"I win!" she announced triumphantly. Sam groaned and set his cards down on the table.

"Well, I'm out," he declared, standing up. "I'll go check on dinner." Brooklyn and Jameson immediately vacated their spots at the table and went to explore the living room. Bucky gathered the discarded playing cards and shuffled them all back together, favoring Izumi with a half-smile.

"So, you've officially achieved 'Auntie' status," he noted. Izumi laughed. Bucky pointed the deck of cards at her. "You know what that means, right?" Her smile faded slightly as her expression became somewhat puzzled.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"It means you can't break up with him, or my children will be heartbroken," Bucky clarified. Izumi looked at him carefully, as if trying to decide if he was joking or not, and then laughed softly, glancing down at her left hand. Bucky's eyes widened slightly as he noticed a sparkle there that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before.

"I think your children's hearts are safe," she said quietly. Bucky's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"Are congratulations in order?" he asked bluntly. Izumi grinned, but put a finger to her lips.

"We haven't officially announced it yet," she murmured, glancing nervously towards the kitchen where Sam had disappeared. Bucky smothered a grin.

"Well then, unofficially, congratulations. And I promise to act surprised when he mentions it," he promised.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam's voice carried, not from the kitchen, but from the living room, and Bucky went to see what trouble his kids was causing now. The twins had discovered Sam's collection of action figures, lined up on a shelf that was too high for them to reach – unless they climbed. Most of them were still in the original packaging, and all of them were Falcon in different costumes. Sam was extricating a half-opened package from Brooklyn's hands as Bucky walked into the room. "I've told you before to leave my collectibles alone."

"Brooklyn, remember that Uncle Sam doesn't like anyone else to play with his dolls," Bucky added with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes at him.

"They are not dolls," Sam countered archly. "They are not toys. They're going to be worth thousands one day. These babies are going to fund my retirement. They need to stay mint." Jameson was holding one of the few action figures that was not still in its packaging. His expression went from perplexed to intrigued after a moment as he regarded the toy. Sticking his tongue out, he licked it tentatively. Sam gave him a shocked look. "What are you doing?" The shock on his face suddenly brightened with dawning realization, and he started to laugh. "Mint condition, little man. Not mint flavored. It just means perfect condition." Shaking his head, he chuckled as he removed the action figure from Jameson's grasp. Jameson frowned.

"Why don't they just say perfect, then?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"I dunno. Sometimes it's nice to have more… expressive ways to say things. Pretty sure that's why we have profanity, too," he speculated.

"Mommy says we should be careful who we use swear words around," Jameson offered conversationally. "Some people don't like to hear them."

"Or just use ones they don't know," Brooklyn contributed helpfully. Sam laughed out loud and shook his head.

"And how do you know what swear words they don't know?" he inquired with interest. Brooklyn shrugged.

"Well, you know," she replied, gesturing with a hand as if it was obvious. "From other languages they don't know. Like Russian. Or Romanian." Sam scoffed.

"You know swear words in other languages?" he asked skeptically, then glanced over at Bucky. "Oh, of course they do, they're your children."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky asked. Sam folded his arms over his chest and smirked, but didn't reply beyond a raised eyebrow. "I'll have you know I have drastically cut back on the profanity." Sam smirked.

"Yeah, okay," he replied. "Anyway, dinner's ready. Anyone hungry?"

The pool in Avenger's Tower was on the sixteenth floor. Bucky stowed the bag with their clothes in the locker room, then took his children by the hand and led them out to the main pool deck. They were all dressed in their swimming suits in preparation for getting in the water. Marquis, similarly clad was crouching by the shallow end of the pool, rummaging through a basket of pool toys. Bucky slowed his pace slightly, taken by surprise. He hadn't seen the Trini man without his shirt before. Not only did the four arms do some strange things to the musculature in his upper body, but there was significant scarring across his torso and back. It was immediately obvious that he hadn't been born with an abnormal number of arms, and that however he had acquired them had not been a painless process.

"Marquis!" Brooklyn called, dropping Bucky's hand and running towards him. Jameson waved as the big man straightened up and turned, his customary grin appearing at the sight of the twins.

"Brooklyn, gyul, slow dahn," he called in warning. "Doh wan' yuh fall on yuh bamsee." Marquis' accent made it difficult for Bucky to immediately understand what he was saying, but Brooklyn apparently had no such trouble. She slowed from a sprint to a fast walk, which turned to bouncing as she drew nearer. Marquis chuckled and extended a hand towards her. "Save dat for de watah, chile." She caught his hand and pulled her legs up, hanging her full body weight from his arm.

"Throw me in, Marquis!" she squealed. He chuckled, his laugh a low rumble.

"Soon enough for dat," he assured her. He glanced up as Bucky approached with Jameson still in hand, and his eyes widened slightly. Bucky felt the gaze travel across his chest and over the scars, the hardware, and the metal arm. He didn't have as much scarring now, after Wakanda, but it was still noticeable, and of course the metal arm was hard to miss. Marquis' eyes traveled back to Bucky's face, and his smile broadened. "Good tah see yuh, Mistah B."

"Likewise, Marquis," he replied with a nod. "How has Superkids been with Nyssa gone?" Marquis shrugged.

"Oh, yuh know. Not as many kids. Nothing I can't handle," he replied, climbing down the ladder into the pool. His accent was lightening, Bucky noticed, making him easier to understand as he code-switched to more formal speech in Bucky's presence. Marquis extended his two top arms towards the edge of the pool, and Brooklyn and Jameson both jumped into the water, catching hold of his hands to keep from going under the water completely. Bucky climbed down in the water and followed at a distance as the other man pulled the twins through the water, supporting them each with two hands as they kicked their legs and splashed their arms enthusiastically through the water. Any skepticism Bucky had about swimming lessons was soon dispelled as he watched his children paddle and glide through the water like happy sea otters. They floated on their backs, practiced holding their breath underwater, and clumsily tread water for nearly a minute. Before long, they were racing from Marquis to Bucky and back again. Bucky found himself impressed at the other man's laidback, easygoing way of redirecting the children and getting their attention back to what he wanted them to be doing. When he announced their time was up and the lesson was over, both children protested, Marquis only laughed and reminded them he would see them again soon. He waved as Bucky herded them back towards the changing room.

"Daddy, hurry up!" Brooklyn demanded, trotting ahead of them down the hallway.

"Brooklyn, slow down and wait," Bucky countered. She paused, turning to face him as he and Jameson closed the distance between them. Making a face at him, she put her hands down on the carpet and attempted a cartwheel. She hadn't mastered it quite yet, and her feet only rose a few feet off the floor. She tried again, kicking one foot up higher, but fell on her bottom just as Bucky and her brother passed her, reaching the door to the virtual reality room. Bucky tossed a teasing look her way as he opened the door. "Come on, Brook. Hurry up," he said playfully. Brooklyn got to her feet and dashed after them as they entered.

With no program engaged, the virtual reality room was a large, blank space. The walls were matte black, so dark it was difficult to judge the size of the room, even with lighting set into the ceiling every few feet. The walls had a strange effect of making your eye want to slide away from it, and Bucky was slightly uncomfortable with it.

"Friday," Brooklyn chirped, "give us a playground."

"Which would ye like, lass?" Friday responded, amusement in the programmed AI voice. "I have two dozen preprogrammed options on file."

"Ninja Course!" The request came from behind them, and Bucky turned to see Wanda and Pietra joining them, as they had agreed. Brooklyn jumped up and down, clapping her hands in anticipation as the space around them shifted and rearranged itself into an obstacle course.

"Great idea, Pietra!" she cheered. "Let's race!" Everything was scaled down for the tiny humans that would be using them, but it looked challenging enough that Bucky raised his eyebrows. The three children clambered over to the green stripe painted across one side of the course. With a grin, Bucky walked over to the starting line and raised his left arm.

"On your mark," he began, and all three children crouched into starting positions. He could tell this was not the first time they had tried this course. "Get set. Go!" He let his arm drop, and stepped out of the way as they took off. Brooklyn took the early lead, swarming up the climbing wall at the start of the course, but Pietra and Jameson weren't far behind. He shook his head as he walked back to where Wanda was still standing.

"This is what they do for fun?" he commented disbelievingly. "It reminds me of boot camp." Wanda grinned at him.

"It's a bit different when you're choosing to do it," she pointed out. She shook her head slightly. "Pietra's been obsessed with that show on the television, the Junior Ninja Warrior Championship. So, I'm not surprised." They watched as the children reached the top of the wall and began climbing up the ropes mounted at the top. Wanda glanced over at Bucky. "Are you going to be attending that UN debriefing session on Friday? I thought Fury said it was mandatory for everyone who fought against the Vruuxel." Bucky frowned at her in confusion. He hadn't heard anything about a meeting, but he had been mostly focused on coordinating playdates and getting through each day with everyone still alive and intact. Before he could ask her more about it, however, they were interrupted by shrieks of protest from the middle of the course.

"You can't do that, Pietra!" Brooklyn insisted. "That's cheating!" She was standing atop a tall foam block, pointing accusingly at Pietra, who was now in the lead, standing innocently on the other side of a foam wall.

"Yeah, no fair!" Jameson agreed. Pietra raised her voice, arguing back. The room echoed with childish voices in disagreement. Bucky jogged over to see what the issue was.

"Hold up, time out," he called, forming his hands into a T. "Brooklyn, tell me what's going on."

"Pietra didn't climb over the wall," Brooklyn explained, pointing. "She just went through it. We can't do that."

"That's true," Bucky agreed. "Pietra, let's hear your side." By the time he finished playing referee and timed the remainder of the race, he had forgotten that Wanda had mentioned the meeting. He then was sidetracked with making sure nobody got hurt as the children got bored with the predetermined course route and began inventing more creative ways to play with the wasn't until later, after supper was over and the children were playing for a little while before he started the bedtime routine, that he even recalled the meeting was happening. He paused in his cleanup of the kitchen to glance through his emails. His eyes widened as he realized he had nearly 500 emails in his inbox after eight days of not checking it. He scrolled through and noticed the email from Fury, but before he could open and read it, a wail from Jameson drew his attention back to the present moment. He set the phone down and went to investigate.

"No, Brooklyn, you can't have another cup of water," Bucky said exasperatedly. "You've already had two drinks and a snack, we read five books, you said good night to Balaur and found your special jammies. You're stalling. It's time to sleep."

"But, Daaaddeee," she whined. "I don't wanna go to sleep." Bucky sighed and pulled her closer, tucking her under his arm and against his side. Jameson was already snuggled against his other side. He was quiet, clutching Taroo, but when Bucky looked over at him to check, his eyes were still open.

"If you don't sleep, you'll be too tired tomorrow to enjoy any of the fun things we have planned," he said reasonably. Brooklyn gave him a surprised look.

"Like what?" she asked. "What are we doing tomorrow, Daddy?"

"Well, Uncle Steve and I were talking about taking you guys out to Cooperstown," he informed her. She frowned, climbing on top of him.

"What's in Cooperstown?" she asked.

"Well, there's the Farmer's Museum," he told her. "Which is basically a real, live farm with real, live animals." Beside him, Jameson squeaked and quivered in excitement. "And there's also the Baseball Hall of Fame." Brooklyn's eyes widened. She loved playing catch with Bucky, and always perched next to him on the couch when he watched the games on the television. He had contemplated taking both of them to a game, but didn't think their attention spans were ready for that just yet. Bucky held a finger up an inch from her nose, and Brooklyn went cross-eyed looking at it. "But you have to get a good night's sleep tonight, or we can't go. It's a long drive there, and I don't want to spend that long in the car with Miss Crankypants." Brooklyn giggled, bouncing up and down on him. "So that means," he clarified, shifting her off of his chest and back down to his side, "you need to lay down, settle your body, and go to sleep." She snuggled against him, rolling over, her back nestled into his ribs. She closed her eyes, but he could feel her fidgeting beside him.

"Daddy," Jameson piped up from his other side. Bucky suppressed an irritated sigh. He had been lying with them for nearly forty-five minutes, but they seemed no closer to sleep than they had when he began. He briefly considered calling Fury to have him tell them to just go the fuck to sleep, but he wasn't certain how effective that would be, either.

"Yes, Jameson," he replied, making an effort to keep his voice even.

"I miss Mommy," Jamie mumbled into his arm. Bucky's irritation transmuted into a tired, frustrated affection. He rubbed Jamie's arm.

"Me too, Buddy," he said softly.

"Me, too," Brooklyn added, her voice ending in a squeaky sob. "When is she coming home?"

"In just a few more days," he assured her. Both children were sniffling and whimpering now. "Friday, do we have any recordings of Nyssa singing on file?" he asked, casting about for something that would reassure everyone.

"I have twenty-seven recorded tracks by Dr. Nyssa Taylor," Friday replied, "including fifteen lullabies, recorded over the past several months." Bucky's eyes widened.

"You couldn't have mentioned that a week ago?" he asked in disbelief, thinking how much easier bedtimes would have been with that in his arsenal.

"They were not requested," Friday retorted archly. Bucky suddenly got an image of a woman with a scandalized expression, hands on her hips.

"Do you have the song Mommy always sings at night?" Jameson asked tremulously. There was a chime of affirmation, and then gentle guitar chords played over the speakers.

"Since the moment we met, I held you in my arms," Nyssa's voice drifted through the dark room, and Bucky felt both children immediately relax. "Wanted to wrap you in love, keep you safe from harm. But there's life to be lived, adventures to thrive on; so instead my love follows you until you arrive home…" Listening to her voice, Bucky felt a pang. Her presence was palpable in the room as it filled with her music. Before the song ended, both children were asleep. He lay a little longer, listening to her voice. It had been hard to maintain contact while she was away. Responses to text messages took hours, and even during the video chats they set up, she was distracted and often had to leave before he felt the conversation was over. Carefully extricating himself from the sleeping twins, he wandered back out to the living room and turned on the television.

It had become part of his nightly routine to watch the news. Disaster coverage was both wide-spread and prominent in the twenty-four-hour news cycle, especially since so many had hit different regions of the globe. He often caught a glimpse of Nyssa in the background, though she seemed to be avoiding interviews. He wasn't the only one who had noticed. One of the local news stations had begun a new feature recently called, "Where in the World is Patchwork Doll?" Bucky found himself at once amused, annoyed and relieved by it. It certainly made it easier for him to keep an eye on her. Tonight, she was in India, where there had been flash flooding, although earlier in the day there had been reports of her in Australia, which was enduring powerful wildfires. Bucky flipped open his phone and pulled up the map graphic he had been marking her locations on. He added the new additions, along with the date. Switching to text messaging, he sent her a goodnight text, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. He didn't wait for her replies anymore.

He was surprised by an alert just a few minutes later, and checked his phone.

Love you too. Sleep well, sweet dreams. Seeing her response eased a knot in his stomach he had barely been aware of. With a sigh, he smiled to himself, then went into the bedroom.