Disclaimer: Marvel Characters are property of Marvel. Original Characters are mine. Just for fun, not for profit.
Prodromal Symptoms
He was awakened by Darshan's soft whining. Bucky sat up in bed and looked around. Beside him, Brooklyn and Jameson had both crept in and were fast asleep in a nest of wadded-up blankets and tangled limbs. Nyssa was nowhere to be seen. Getting out of bed, Bucky went to investigate. Darshan's quiet whimper drew him to the living room. The dog was sitting inside the door to the balcony, ears at attention as he looked intently at something outside. Bucky padded over to investigate. Nyssa was outside, still dressed in her pajamas, leaning on the balcony railing between the container gardens. The night wind buffeted her already-tousled hair. With a frown, Bucky pushed the sliding door open.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked in confusion and concern. Nyssa straightened up slightly.
"Just trying to clear my head a bit," she replied softly. "Was contemplating doing some yoga."
"The bed is much, much warmer than the balcony," Bucky observed. "And you were exhausted just a couple hours ago." Nyssa nodded, though she still didn't turn her head towards him.
"I still am," she agreed. "But the kids came in, and…" Her voice trailed off, and she half-shrugged. Bucky nodded understanding.
"I've definitely woken up a few nights with a random knee or elbow in my kidneys," he agreed dryly. Nyssa shook her head.
"No, it's not that," she demurred. Bucky raised his eyebrows, but waited. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily. "I was more worried that they would stumble into my dreams while I was sleeping. The inside of my head at night has been no place for a child lately."
"Nightmares?" Bucky asked in surprise. Nyssa paused for a long moment, then nodded mutely. Bucky crossed to stand next to her, one arm encircling her shoulders comfortingly. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. She sighed.
"Don't you have to get up early to go meet with the UN?" she recalled. He shook his head.
"Not especially early," he contradicted. "They don't want us there until ten. But I did want a chance to discuss it with you first." She nodded slowly.
"I suppose they're going to want an answer from you," she reflected.
"Or at least, to start some negotiations," he agreed. "Fury said you didn't want anything to do with it." Nyssa looked down at her hands, wrapped around the railing.
"Yes, well," she sighed. "Developing and training a new branch of military isn't exactly my forte."
"How do you know?" Bucky challenged. "I have yet to see you take on any challenge that you couldn't overcome." Now she turned towards him for the first time.
"That's because I choose projects I believe in," she reminded him. "I'm not sure how I feel about this one. The United Nations is supposed to be about diplomacy and nations working together towards common goals. Not about… building a new world order." Bucky snorted.
"I assure you, world domination hasn't been mentioned," he said dryly. "Look, I like the idea of the United Nations. I do. But they are one of the most ineffective governing bodies on the planet. Maybe this will give them some teeth, give them the leverage to finally forge something worthwhile. If it takes an outside threat to get every country on our planet working together, I can't say I'm against that. You don't like the idea of world peace?"
"Capitulation under threat of violence is not the same as peace. And being willing to cooperate against the threat of alien invasion doesn't necessarily mean they are ready to treat all their citizens fairly," Nyssa pointed out. "You can call it whatever you want, but you'll still be training soldiers. Soldiers have a very specific purpose. You can't fight your way to world peace. You can call it world peace, because the major nations aren't at war with each other, but that doesn't mean your forces still can't be used for tyranny or injustice."
"You think I'm not aware of that? That just makes it even more important to be a part of it," Bucky countered. "To make sure safeguards are in place to keep that from happening." Nyssa shook her head, turning her blind gaze out over the city.
"Humans have spent centuries spilling blood all over the planet," she observed. "I guess the logical next step is to spill it across the stars."
"I hate to break it to you, but we already did that part," Bucky retorted. "Besides, what would you expect us to do the next time the Chitauri, or the Vruuxel, or the Skrulls, or the Kree, or some other alien species we haven't discovered yet shows up and wants to take over the planet? Should we just let them have it? Or should the Avengers be expected to take on all comers with no support? We know there is other life out there, and we know it isn't necessarily friendly. It makes sense to have a force that can deal with that. To know what threats are out there and not prepare for them seems naively reckless, at a minimum." Nyssa closed her eyes and gave him a begrudging nod.
"You make some good points," she admitted. "And I know that this is part of who you are. I'm not saying that I'm against you taking part in it. If this is something you truly want to do, I support you. But I don't have any interest in it myself. And I don't want to raise our children on army bases. Or move every six months. Or settle on a spaceship or space station." Bucky snorted.
"I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself," he noted. "But I will be sure to bring that up in negotiations." If nothing else, discussing it with Nyssa had at least solidified his own positions in his mind. She took a deep breath and turned her face towards him.
"And you know, no matter what you teach the recruits, or how well, people will die because of it." Bucky's expression tightened, his face flushing in anger.
"Are you about to explain to me the harsh realities of war?" he asked her darkly. Regret flashed across her face, but she remained silent, turning away from him. He let out an exasperated breath. "I think I'll head back to bed. At least one of us should get some more sleep before tomorrow." She nodded, but still did not reply. "Are you coming?" he asked bluntly. She shook her head, still silent. He felt like arguing with her, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom for the second time that night. She was standing with her arms wrapped around her defensively, her walls up tightly, and he suspected any further attempt to get her to come with him would be met with even fiercer resistance. With a sigh, he leaned in for a good-night kiss. Her lips met his softly, almost hesitantly. He returned to bed feeling slightly bemused, still annoyed by their argument. Moving a sleeping Jameson carefully off his pillow, he crawled back under the covers. By the time he fell asleep, Nyssa still had not returned to bed.
The next morning, Bucky found himself looking at the underside of a sink for the second time in as many days. This time, he was clad only in his pajama pants, as the early morning emergency hadn't left time for getting dressed.
"Can you pull your feet in?" Nyssa's disembodied voice asked. He obediently followed her request, shifting in the tight space inside the cupboard. He felt the air shift as she pushed a mop past his feet, cleaning up the last remnants of the puddle they had found on the floor upon awakening. "Thank you." He grunted in response, straining as he finally coaxed the pipe fitting loose. He was rewarded with a splash of foul water across his face and chest. Muttering profanities under his breath, he wrestled the garbage disposal from its housing and crawled out from under the sink with it. Nyssa brandished the mop at him with a mischievous smirk. "Do I need to get you, too?" she asked. He snorted.
"No, thanks. I plan to shower immediately after this," he commented, getting to work on the screws that held the disposal shut.
"Mmmm," Nyssa responded. He glanced over at her. She was standing still, leaning on the mop, a distracted look on her face. Bucky turned his attention back to his project at hand.
"Are you using our cameras to ogle me again?" he asked, smirking.
"I prefer 'admire,'" Nyssa replied. She paused, coughing, then cleared her throat. "I haven't had many opportunities to, lately. Would you prefer that I not?"
"Think I'd be more concerned if you didn't," Bucky replied, grunting as he finally got the main pieces apart. He fished a doll missing all her hair, half a leg and the entirety of her left arm out of the disposal and regarded it with exasperation. "Brooklyn!" he called. The sounds of playing from the bedroom stopped after a few moments, and Brooklyn came trotting out.
"What, Daddy?" she asked innocently. He held the mangled doll out towards her. She frowned at it.
"This is what happens when you put your doll down the garbage disposal and turn it on," he explained. "That's why you don't put your hand down there."
"Awww," Brooklyn pouted, taking the battered Barbie from him. "Can I get a new one?" Bucky shook his head.
"Not today," he admonished. Her face crumpled.
"But it was my faaaavorite!" she wailed. Bucky frowned at her in consternation.
"I'd hate to see how you treated one you didn't care about," he commented dryly. Brooklyn howled louder. Nyssa scooped her up.
"That's really upsetting, isn't it?" she consoled. "Maybe we can put one on your list for your next birthday or Christmas." Brooklyn only wailed louder. "I know, that's really far away and it's so, so hard to wait." Brooklyn turned her face into Nyssa's shoulder and sobbed. Bucky grimaced slightly. Nyssa shook her head at him. "She just needs a minute." He heaved a sigh.
"Well, that disposal is fubar," he announced. "We are going to have to get a new one."
"Or we can just put pipes in," Nyssa suggested. "With that new food recycler unit Tony installed, we don't really need a disposal anymore." Bucky shrugged.
"Either way, I have to get more parts before I can do anything. So, the sink is out of commission for the morning. Can we manage without it?" Nyssa thought for a moment, then nodded. "Great. Then I'm going to go shower."
Nyssa managed to suppress the coughing fit she felt coming on just long enough to finish flipping the pancakes on the griddle pan. Turning away from the food, she covered her mouth as she coughed so hard her ribs hurt. She took a few moments to wash her hands in the bathroom and catch her breath before she returned to making breakfast. She paused at the sink for a moment, but then remembered it was out of commission. With a sigh, she grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge instead and calmed the irritation in her throat with a swig. She was no stranger to illness, particularly after a trip. She had gotten all the recommended immunizations and boosters before leaving on her little world tour, and her doctor had started her on an antibiotic at the first sign of a sniffle after her return. It was still taking her longer than she expected to recover. Returning to the stove, she rescued the pancakes before they burned, then turned the sizzling sausages before pouring a new set of pancakes to cook.
"Mommy, Brooklyn dropped her shoe on Herbert," Jameson announced from behind her. She half-turned and found the frog abruptly thrust in her face. "Can you kiss him and make it better?" Nyssa straightened, leaning slightly backwards as her son attempted to press his pet against her mouth.
"I suppose," she quipped, brushing her lips gingerly against the slippery skin. "I thought I was done with the kissing frogs phase of my life."
"Thanks, Mommy." Jameson cradled the amphibian to his chest. "He feels better now."
"Ooh, sausage!" Brooklyn squealed from behind them. The stepstool scraped across the kitchen floor.
"Brooklyn, stop!" Nyssa turned back around just as Brooklyn scooped a sausage link out of the pan with her bare hand. A moment later, she dropped it, screaming. "Oh, honey!" Nyssa grabbed her from the stepstool and carried her over to the sink. Grabbing the bottle of water, she dumped the contents over her daughter's burned hand. Brooklyn shrieked and pulled her hand away. Jameson pulled on her shirt, starting to cry as he picked up on his sister's distress. Darshan whined, dancing in a circle around the distressed family.
"Mommy, what happen?" he asked worriedly.
"Yeah, what happened?" Bucky demanded from the doorway, still wet from the shower, towel draped around his waist.
"Brooklyn burned herself," Nyssa explained brusquely, trying to get her daughter to hold her hand open so she could wash the hot grease off. The girl shrieked and fought; her fist clenched to her chest. "Can you help? She's too strong for me. We need to run it under cool water."
"Bathroom," Bucky instructed. Nodding, Nyssa followed him back to the bathroom. Bucky pried the girl's hand open, holding her fingers under the cool running water. After a few minutes, her cries subsided to sniffles.
"How did she manage to get burned, anyway?" he asked gruffly. "I thought with the cameras installed, you can see everything."
"I did see everything," Nyssa replied grimly. "She was just too fast for me. I watched her scoop that sausage right out of the pan." She shook her head. "Brooklyn, honey, you know you can't just grab hot food out of a pan with your bare hands. It's not safe."
"Daddy does it," Brooklyn replied, the statement punctuated with a sniffle. Bucky winced and sighed.
"When you have a high-tech metal arm that senses temperature, then you can touch hot things on the stove with it," he explained to her. "But I never use my flesh hand to do that." Turning the water off, he inspected the diminutive hand in his. The skin on her hand was angry red, already swelling, with blisters forming on two fingers and at the center of her palm.
"I'll call Marquis and see if he's okay with the rest of the kids on his own so I can take her in," Nyssa decided.
"I can let Fury know I can't make it to negotiations today," Bucky offered. Nyssa gave him a sardonic look.
"You mean, reschedule your negotiation session with the United Nations?" she rephrased glibly, then shook her head. "If you want to drive, we can probably make it to urgent care right as it opens. We might even make it back before you have to leave. If it takes too long, you can go directly to your meeting and we'll take the subway back. Or a taxi. Either way…" Nyssa was suddenly cut off by the screech of a smoke detector. Bucky abruptly recalled the breakfast left forgotten and cooking on the stove. Jameson appeared in the bathroom, dripping wet.
"It's waining in the kitchen," he announced. Herbert croaked happily.
Two hours later, Bucky dropped his wife off at the entrance to Avenger's Tower with a now-dry Jameson and freshly bandaged Brooklyn. Nyssa leaned in his driver's side window for a kiss before he left, feeling drained even though the day had barely started.
"Woy, everyone okay?" Marquis boomed as they joined the other children in the virtual forest in the VRR. Brooklyn scampered up to him and waved her white-swathed hand.
"I burned my hand, Marquis!" she announced, a note of pride in her voice.
"Aye-yuh-yie, gyul, whad' yuh go an' do that fo'?" Marquis groaned. Brooklyn giggled.
"I didn't do it on purpose," she insisted. "I was trying to help Mommy make breakfast." Marquis raised his eyebrows at her explanation.
"It's been a morning," Nyssa contributed, coming up behind her daughter. Jameson had already found a hollowed-out tree to explore. "I tried to talk the nurse at urgent care into getting me a coffee IV, but she wouldn't do it." Marquis chuckled. Nyssa crouched down to eye level with Brooklyn. "Be careful with that hand, okay? It's going to be sore, so try not to use it. No throwing things, no climbing with it, no practicing cartwheels until it's better, okay?"
"Aww," Brooklyn pouted, but Nyssa shook her head at her.
"If you want that hand to heal, you'll need to take it easy," she reminded her. "And if anything you're doing hurts, stop doing it, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy," Brooklyn sighed.
"Now go play," she encouraged the girl. Brooklyn ran off, waving her bandaged hand at Pietra. Nyssa glanced around at the forest setting, taking note of where each child was and what they were doing. Laila had found a perfect climbing tree, and was scaling the lower branches, her wings fluttering with effort. Saoirse was playing with a pile of pine cones she had found and lined up in a neat row. Brooklyn joined Pietra in stacking some long branches against a tree, constructing a little fort. Jarek was digging in the soft dirt along the creek. Jameson was exploring a small copse of bushes, watching a tiny caterpillar inch along one of the branches. On the other side of the trees, Aaron was lying on his back, staring up at the lacy patterns of dark branches against the bright blue sky. For the moment, at least, everyone seemed content to play on their own in the simulated forest.
"This is nice," she commented to Marquis. "Did you design this?" He shook his head.
"One of the presets," he contradicted. "If I were going to design one, it would be a little more… tropical." Nyssa's expression brightened.
"Oh, you should!" she encouraged. "I would love to see where you grew up."
"I dunno," Marquis sighed. "It might make me miss it too much."
"How long has it been since you've been home?" Nyssa asked astutely. For a moment, Marquis was silent, staring down at one of his hands.
"Not since I was a weedy teen," he admitted after a lengthy moment.
"That's a long time," Nyssa observed. "Do you still keep in touch with your family?" Marquis shook his head. He folded both sets of arms over his torso, looking down at the grass beneath their feet. Nyssa could tell he was wrestling with some deeply rooted guilt and trauma. She waited, not wanting to pry into anything he didn't want to share. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "You don't need to discuss them if you don't want to." He sighed.
"I had a twin brother," he said, his gentle baritone barely above a whisper. "Malik. He was seventeen minutes younger than me. We used to get into all kinds of trouble together, but sometimes we were responsible, too. The summer we both turned sixteen, we would take our boat out, catch fish and sell them at the market. One day…" Nyssa tensed, holding up a hand, and he stopped his narrative abruptly.
"I want to hear your story," she assured him, "but I need to check on the children." Marquis nodded, immediately scanning the scenery around them. There were raised voices coming from inside a ring of bushes.
"No, Aaron, I was in here first!" Jameson's voice protested. The wordless shriek in reply definitely came from Aaron, followed by the sound of a hand making contact with flesh. Nyssa reached the edge of the bushes just as Jameson howled in pain and protest. "Aa-ron, leave me alone!" The bushes rustled as Brooklyn charged through, moving in a blur. Branches scratched at Nyssa's skin as she pushed through the bushes, emerging on the other side just in time to see Brooklyn's fist connect with Aaron's face. The boy fell to the ground with a scream, covering his face. Brooklyn stood over him, arms bent and fists ready.
"Leave my brother alone!" she yelled. Jameson was crouched at the base of the bushes to their left, one hand pressed to his cheek, eyes wide in shock and brimming with tears. Aaron's scream became a keening, and he started to rock in place. Nyssa stepped in between the three children.
"Friday, end program," she said quietly. The trees, bushes and grass vanished, leaving the human occupants alone in an empty room. Jarek howled a protest as his holes disappeared. Laila flapped her wings frantically as her perch disappeared, her face frantic concentration. After a moment, her expression became giddy delight as she realized she was flying. Well, fluttering, anyway. Pietra folded her arms over her chest, hovering in mid-air, looking on disapprovingly. Nyssa crouched down, and Jameson practically jumped on her, throwing his arms around her neck. She curved a protective arm around him. "What happened here?"
"Aaron just came crashing in and almost knocked Jamie over!" Brooklyn exclaimed, waving her arms emphatically. "Then Jamie stood up to get Aaron to leave, and Aaron smacked Jamie in the face! I just came to defend Jamie!" Nyssa sighed.
"All right," she said decisively. "I think it's time to go back upstairs and have a snack."
By the time they got everyone calmed down, gathered everyone together and managed to herd them back upstairs, it was time for lunch. Aaron's eye was already swelling and darkening. Nyssa sent a diplomatically worded update to Tony and Pepper as the children ate their macaroni and cheese with carrots and hummus. After lunch, they were back to their usual routine of a story before lying down on their mats to get some rest. Nyssa returned to where Marquis was cleaning up all the dishes and toys.
"They're all sleeping," she remarked in surprise. "Finally, something actually went right today." Marquis grinned at her and nodded. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the counter with it. "So, we should have a few minutes before somebody wakes up." She took a sip of the hot, refreshing beverage, savoring the taste and the warmth. Her enjoyment was interrupted by another coughing fit. She could feel Marquis' concerned eyes on her as the coughing racked her slight frame. After it subsided, she took another long sip of her coffee, willing the hot liquid to tame her sore and itchy throat. "I'm sorry we got interrupted earlier," she finally said, her voice slightly rough. "I really wanted to hear what you had to say. If you'd still like to tell me about your brother, I would love to hear it." Marquis took a deep breath and sat down in the other seat at the counter.
"Where was I?" he murmured reflectively. "Ah, yes. Fishing." He nodded, as if to himself, and spread his hands. "One Saturday, we took the boat out. We were not having much luck with the fish at first, but then we found a school of them and were pulling them out one after another." He moved his arms illustratively. "Suddenly, a storm roll in, clouds turned the sky dark, waves higher than our heads. We couldn't see the island, or anything to give us our bearings. All we could do was ride it out and hope we survived. Next morning, there was no sign of any land on the horizon. We were lost at sea. All our fish gone." He shook his head. "We drifted on de open water for three days. We started to think maybe we die out there. But then came a boat. It was a big boat, with writing in a language we didn't know. They took us on board, gave us food, clothes. We thought we were saved. But it got much worse from there. Something in the food made us very sick. When I woke up the next morning, we were both chained in the hold belowdecks." He paused, rubbing his two lower sets of hands along his thighs. "I don't like to think much about that time. They… did things to us. Experiments. Painful things. Made me very sick. Malik got sick, too, and so weak. Got so he could barely move. They came and took me, knocked me out. When I woke up again, I was like this, all obzokee." He gestured with all four of his arms. "I didn't see Malik again. At first, I didn't know what happened, or want to admit it. Then I noticed this scar right here." He pointed to a two-inch blemish on his lower left forearm. "When we were little, we were running away from Tanty Cece after swiping some toolum. Jumped through a window, and Malik got hung up on a nail. Sliced his arm right open. Once I saw dat, I knew." Marquis' broad shoulders sagged. "So you see, Boss, why I can't go back to Trinidad. Why I can't face Mooma wearing… my dead brother's arms." Nyssa shook her head slowly, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his arm.
"Marquis, that's terrible. I can't even imagine how hard that must have been to go through. I'm so sorry they did that to you," she said. Marquis leaned forward, running one hand down his face.
"They wanted to train me to fight," he reflected softly, "but I've never been much for combat. I'm a lover, not a fighter. And I wasn't about to fight for them. I don't know how it would have ended if I wasn't rescued and brought to Sanctuary."
"I am very glad you were," Nyssa declared. "You are a good man, and a valuable employee. I couldn't have hired anyone better." He glanced at her, surprise and warmth tempering the grief and despondency in his presence. "What they did to you, that wasn't your fault. What they did to your brother isn't, either. Speaking as a mother, if it had been my children…." She glanced towards the room where they were sleeping, hesitating as she contemplated the horror of what he had been through. "If one of them had survived, I would want to know. If my child was still alive, no matter in what condition, I would want to be there for him. I don't think your Mooma would be as disappointed in you as you fear." Marquis chuckled softly, though there was mostly sadness in his mien.
"She would have liked you," he remarked.
"Well, I already like her," Nyssa announced. "She must be an amazing woman, to raise such a wonderful son." Marquis shifted, touched by her words, but before he could respond, Saoirse toddled out from the napping room, rubbing her eyes and sniffling. Nyssa jumped up. "Oh, honey, did you have a bad dream?" Saoirse nodded, her face crumpling as she let out a wail. Nyssa scooped her up into her arms. "That was scary, huh?" With a sob, Saoirse snuggled into her.
"Captain Barnes, do you have a minute?" Bucky turned from his lunch, bemused by the impromptu promotion, to see a thin man with dark hair and glasses standing solicitously behind him. "I'm Eric Feinberg, of Valkyrie Arms." Bucky raised his eyebrows at him.
"I was not aware there were arms dealers present at this stage of negotiations," he remarked. They had been in discussions all morning, but Bucky felt somewhat frustrated at the lack of progress. At this rate, it would be weeks before they had all their contracts settled. Eric smiled broadly.
"My employers feel it most prudent to get in at the ground floor on these things," he replied expansively. "They are also interested in retaining your services."
"My services?" Bucky repeated. "In what capacity?" Eric gestured broadly.
"With your reputation, having your endorsement on our products would increase our market share by a significant percent," he explained. "If you would be willing to participate in our advertising campaign, we would make it well worth your time." Bucky regarded him skeptically.
"I haven't used many Valkyrie… products," he noted. "How worth my time are we talking about?" Eric handed him a paper. Bucky took it and scanned through the proposal. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline at the sum offered.
"Okay, I'm listening," he said.
"Pietra, your mom is here," Nyssa called. A moment later, the door opened and Wanda and Natasha both entered. Nyssa smiled at Natasha. "Nat, what brings you here?" She had barely finished the sentence when she was interrupted by another coughing fit. Natasha eyed her worriedly.
"Are you all right?" she asked. Nyssa nodded through her coughing.
"It's just traveling crud," she explained breathlessly as she was finally able to catch her breath. "My doctor has me on antibiotics already. I expect it will be better in another couple days." Natasha and Wanda exchanged a look. "Anyway, how can I help you?"
"Well, you've already run nonprofits," Wanda mentioned. "Nat and I were talking about wanting to do something to honor Clint." She glanced over at Natasha, who frowned thoughtfully.
"Clint had a way of finding people who needed a second chance and taking them under his wing," Nat reflected. "We thought that opening a home for children with abilities, or wayward youth… kids who just haven't had a fair shake and need a place to belong, or some extra support, might be a good way to honor him." Nyssa nodded slowly.
"That does sound like something he would appreciate," she agreed. "It would be quite the undertaking, though. Have you determined where you want to establish it? Do you know the pertinent local laws? Have you filed any paperwork yet?" Wanda shook her head.
"It's still just an idea," she admitted. "We were hoping maybe you could help us with some of that."
"I would be happy to," Nyssa replied with a smile. "Are you planning on staying in New York?" Natasha shrugged.
"We're open to suggestions," she conceded.
"Great," Nyssa declared. "I happen to know about a property in Connecticut that is going to be auctioned off for well below value in a couple weeks, if you're interested." Natasha brightened with interest.
"We'd love more information," she said. "What…" she trailed off as Marquis came into the room, Pietra's hand clasped in one of his. "Oh, hello."
"Hello," Marquis responded, flashing her a broad grin. "Pietra has some art to show you, Wanda." Wanda's eyes brightened with interest as she crouched down to greet her daughter.
Bucky was unexpectedly exhausted by the time he got home, but Brooklyn and Jameson both swarmed him as soon as he walked through the door. Nyssa was moving at about half of her normal speed, and there was a pre-packaged lasagna baking in the oven. As soon as the twins let him go and bounded off, he crossed the room to his wife, attempting to go in for a kiss. She pushed him away, confusing him for a moment until she dissolved into another coughing fit, grabbing onto the counter to keep herself upright as her body shook. Bucky frowned at her, keeping an arm around her for support.
"At what point do you go in?" he inquired archly. She shook her head.
"Haven't we been to the doctor enough today?" she asked lightly, then stifled another cough. "I don't have time to be sick right now."
"I'm not sure you're going to get a choice about that," Bucky replied sternly. "Why don't you lay down until supper is ready?"
"Brooklyn's due for her dressing change," Nyssa argued.
"I think I can handle that," Bucky replied dryly. He pointed in the direction of the bedroom. "Go rest." Nyssa looked like she was about to argue again, but she was derailed by another coughing episode. Nodding contritely, she moved down the hall and disappeared into their bedroom. Bucky watched the doorway to make sure she wasn't about to reemerge, then went to find his daughter. He followed the sound of arguing from the kids' bedroom.
"Brooklyn, stoooooooop!" Jameson whined, setting Bucky's teeth on edge.
"Hey, hey, what's going on?" he asked, leaning in the door.
"Daddy, I wanna play with the magnetic animals, but Jamie isn't letting me!" Brooklyn declared. "Jamie, let me have a turn!"
"Jameson, you can have a few more minutes while I change Brooklyn's dressing, but then she needs to have a turn, too. Brooklyn, come here and let me look at your hand," Bucky requested. Brooklyn reluctantly came over to him, holding out her bandaged hand. He slowly unwound the dressing, bracing himself for the sight of her injuries. Instead of red, angry flesh, he found an unmarred stretch of new, pink flesh. Her hand appeared to be completely healed. With a soft chuckle, Bucky shook his head. "Three cheers for accelerated healing factor," he commented. "I don't think you need another bandage on this, Babydoll."
"Can I get a bandaid?" Brooklyn asked hopefully. Bucky frowned.
"You don't really need…"
"Pleeeeeeeease?" she begged. Bucky sighed.
"Well, all right," he relented. "Do you want unicorns or PAW Patrol?"
Thanks to my dear, lovely readers for keeping up with this story! We're building towards the major climax and I'm hoping it's worth the wait! Especially thanks to Qweb, karina001 and SomebodyWhoCares for reviewing. Feedback is always appreciated!
