Disclaimer: Marvel Characters are property of Marvel. Original Characters are mine. Just for fun, not for profit.
Recovery
"Two hundred seventy-five, two hundred seventy-six…" Brooklyn and Jameson chorused from where they were perched on Bucky's back. He slowly lowered his body closer to the floor, then pressed back up, keeping his back and legs straight. "Two hundred seventy-seven…"
"Russian," Bucky panted, pausing before he attempted another one. As he lowered himself down and pressed up again, Brooklyn switched her numbers to Russian. After a couple counts, Jameson joined in. Bucky did several more push-ups, then told them to switch to Romanian. They both fell silent, and he could nearly hear the wheels turning in their heads. He prompted by counting himself for two push-ups, and then they joined in and counted with him. For the last ten, he had them change to Spanish.
"Y trescientos!" Brooklyn announced, jumping off Bucky's back and landing lightly on the floor. "Hi, Uncle Steve, Auntie Sera!" Bucky let his knees rest on the carpet and looked up. Steve was standing a few feet away with an amused look on his face. Beside him, Seraphina looked impressed. A cloud of strawberry blonde curls peeked out from behind Steve's leg.
"See-sha!" Jameson slid excitedly from Bucky's back, and Bucky climbed to his feet. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he took a moment to wipe his face with the edge of it. Jamie darted over to peek around Steve's legs at Saoirse, making silly faces at her. She giggled, then chased after him. Brooklyn followed them both, jumping over the couch on her way.
"Thanks for coming over," Bucky panted. They had gotten special permission, given the circumstances, to break quarantine. Bucky had to leave Avenger's Tower on a very special mission.
"Of course, Buck," Steve replied. "We're not that concerned about the virus. By now, you should be clear, anyway."
"And I wouldn't miss it for anything," Seraphina added. "Okay if I use the kitchen while you're gone?" Bucky nodded.
"Mi casa es tu casa," he replied, gesturing vaguely at the apartment. "Make yourself at home. I'm gonna shower quick before I go."
"That's a good idea," Seraphina replied, wrinkling her nose slightly. Bucky shot her a good-natured dirty look, then disappeared into the bathroom.
Bucky pulled the car up to the hospital entrance. He didn't have to wait long before he spotted someone in scrubs wheeling a wheelchair towards his car. The wheelchair was adult size. Inside it, Nyssa looked frail and childlike. Clear plastic tubing ran from an oxygen tank hanging on the back of the chair to under her nose. The doctor had warned him that she may need supplemental oxygen for quite some time, and might always need it. Her lungs carried scars from her battle with the virus. None of that mattered to him in this moment, though. He got out of the car and went around to open the door for her. Bending down, he extended his hand to her.
"Shall we, milady?" he drawled. She grinned at him and slipped her hand into his, leaning on it for support as she stood and walked the few strides to the car. She was slightly out of breath as she settled in. Bucky crossed back to the driver's seat and got in beside her.
"Where are the kids?" she wheezed.
"I wanted to bring them along," he assured her, "but I was lucky they let me out long enough to come get you. We're still under quarantine." He caught the sigh and the flash of guilt across her face. "Don't worry, though. They're fine. Darshan is watching them." The guilt was quickly replaced with confusion and horror.
"You left them with the dog?" she yelped. Bucky chuckled.
"Relax," he reassured her. "Steve and Seraphina are watching the dog." She let her breath out in a wheezy puff, then started to laugh. The chuckle turned into a cough as Bucky pulled back out onto the street towards home.
Bucky felt his heart lift as he carried her over the threshold of their apartment. Darshan was so close on his heels, he nearly tripped him.
"Welcome home!" The chorus of voices greeted them. There were fragrant flowers in bouquets scattered around the apartment, and candles burning at strategic points. The smell of freshly baked cake permeated their home. Jameson and Brooklyn danced around the living room, chanting, "Mommy's home! Mommy's home!" Saoirse joined in their dance, wiggling her butt, stomping her feet and waving her hands. Steve and Seraphina stood by, watching with smiles, although Seraphina's brow still had a worried wrinkle in it. He set Nyssa gently down on the couch and reconnected her oxygen tubing to the cannister beside it. Jameson immediately climbed up beside her, his little arms twining around her head and neck as he pulled her closer. Darshan lay down on her feet, curling up in a position that made it clear he had no intention of moving any time soon.
"Mommy, Mommy, look what I can do!" Brooklyn cartwheeled across the living room. Nyssa gave her a look of amazement.
"Wow, that's amazing, Brook! You must have been practicing that so much!"
"That, and flips, and headstands. Oh, and she can literally climb the walls now," Bucky said dryly. Brooklyn clambered up on the couch and joined her brother on Nyssa's lap. Bucky gestured to the flowers, candles and cake. "You did all this? I wasn't gone that long." Steve and Seraphina exchanged glances.
"It was mostly Phi," Steve replied, giving his wife an affectionate look. "She stated planning it the moment you asked us to help out."
"I didn't know you baked, Phina," Bucky returned Seraphina shrugged.
"It used to be an occasional thing, but since the quarantine it's become more of a serious hobby," she confessed. "I had to do something other than revising wills and drafting legal briefs."
"She's been baking up a storm," Steve said, patting his midsection. "Can't you tell?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. Steve still looked as trim as ever.
"Not particularly. You could send some of that my way if you're getting sick of it," Bucky joked. Seraphina sat down on the couch next to Nyssa and took her hand in both of hers.
"I made your favorite," she informed her friend. "Dark Chocolate Cherry." Nyssa's eyebrows went up, and she smiled.
"That sounds amazing," she pronounced, then a sly smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. "What's the occasion?" Seraphina rolled her eyes.
"Your welcome home party, silly," she scoffed.
"Let's have cake!" Brooklyn said enthusiastically, jumping off the couch and dashing to the kitchen. The adults chuckled.
"Okay," Nyssa said amicably. "Time for some cake." Seraphina sliced, while Bucky distributed plates. Jameson refused to leave his mother's lap, but enthusiastically accepted the cake when brought to him. Bucky cringed to think of the frosting and crumbs in the couch, but decided to let it slide this time. It was like a breath of fresh air, having his friends and his wife all together and enjoying delicious cake while chatting amicably. He noticed, though, that Nyssa put her cake aside after just a few bites. Her eyes were getting that glazed, fuzzy look to them again, her head resting wearily on the back of the couch.
"All right," he announced. "It was really good to see you guys, and I appreciate everything you've done. But I think we need to let Nyssa rest."
"Okay," Seraphina sighed, taking Nyssa's hand again. "You need to call me every day so I can see how you're doing."
"Yes, ma'am," Nyssa responded. "I'll make you sick of me."
"Not possible," Seraphina volleyed back. "But I look forward to seeing you try." She leaned forward and kissed Nyssa on the forehead. Standing, she scooped up Saoirse and headed towards the door.
"It's good to see you feeling better, Nyssa," Steve said, touching her shoulder lightly. She touched his hand on her shoulder with a faint smile.
"It's good to be home," she responded. With a nod, Steve followed his wife and daughter out the door.
"Mommy, come play with me!" Brooklyn begged, tugging at Nyssa's arm.
"Oh, baby, I can't. I'm sorry," she sighed. Bucky thought he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He scooped his daughter up and carried her towards the kitchen.
"The doctor said Mom was well enough to come home, but she's not completely well yet," he explained quietly to the girl. "She still needs some time to get back to the Mommy you're used to. So, we have to make sure she gets plenty of rest, lots of good food, and lots of love, so she gets strong again." Brooklyn looked at him intently, tipping her forehead into his.
"But I want her to be better now," she whispered. Bucky closed his eyes.
"Me, too," he whispered back. He opened his eyes again, meeting her daughter's gaze. "So, we have to love her up extra, until she's all better. Think we can do that?" Brooklyn nodded solemnly. Bucky set her back down. He wasn't entirely sure he should even be promising his daughter that Nyssa would recover. The doctor had said there was no guarantees. She might never get back to her previous level of functioning. Still, she was home. He could deal with the rest.
"How about some lunch?" he suggested out loud. "Are you hungry?"
"No, but I should probably eat something besides cake today," she acknowledged. Jameson perked up on her lap.
"Mac an' cheese!" he suggested. With a chuckle, Bucky went to make lunch.
With bellies filled and Nyssa's pillows fluffed, he sat down with his guitar. His fingers easily found chords, and danced along the single strings, coaxing sounds from the guitar that matched his mood. He glanced over at his wife. She was sitting with her eyes closed, Jameson still snuggled in close to her. She might have been asleep, except for the wide smile spread across her face. Jameson was watching his father with wide eyes and a serious expression.
"You've really improved," Nyssa observed quietly. Bucky half-grinned at the compliment.
"Had lots of time to practice lately," he reflected. She nodded slowly.
"Daddy, play Itsy Bitsy Spider!" Brooklyn demanded.
"Okay, but you know I don't sing," he reminded his daughter.
"That's okay, I can sing. Mommy can sing," Brooklyn decided. Bucky sighed.
"Babydoll, I'm not sure…" he began hesitantly. Nyssa's speaking voice was still hoarse and weak, and he wasn't sure she had the breath to sing.
"I can still sing," Nyssa assured him. "It might not be very loud, but I can sing." Bucky amenably began playing the requested tune. Brooklyn immediately added her voice, and after half a bar, Nyssa joined in. Her singing voice was still rough, and barely above a whisper, but it was there, just as sweet as ever.
Having Nyssa home definitely made quarantine more bearable. Slowly, she grew stronger, defying the doctors' predictions. Bucky threw himself into proving how devoted he was to her by making sure she always had whatever she needed, wanted, or even considered for more than a moment. Jameson still clung to her for most waking hours, and insisted on snuggling with her at night. After a week, she was able to stop wearing oxygen, and she moved around their apartment without getting short of breath. After two weeks, she started doing yoga again. By three weeks, she almost seemed back to her normal self, though she was still thin and pale. After a month of her being home, they lifted the quarantine. Bucky received a request from Valkyrie Arms for a meeting to begin their ad campaign, and the UN was requesting that all the Avengers who had agreed to work with them come in for an initial briefing and planning session.
"Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?" he asked as he readied his bag to go. Nyssa nodded, sitting at the counter with her hands cupped around her coffee mug. The twins were still at the table, finishing their breakfast.
"We'll be fine," she assured him. "We probably won't stay here, though. We're running low on groceries, and there's a lot of people I want to see now that we can actually leave."
"I can pick up groceries on my way home," he argued. "Can't they come here and see you?" Nyssa raised an eyebrow at him.
"I've been stuck either in a hospital room or this apartment for just as long as you," she reminded him. "I want to get out and get some fresh air. Get the kids out of the house." Bucky hesitated, then nodded understanding.
"Okay," he relented. He regarded her for a long moment. There were so many things he still wanted to discuss, but hadn't found the right moment. The children were always underfoot, Nyssa was sleeping more than she usually would be, and when she was awake, he was more inclined to just enjoy her company than dig into the unpleasant feelings she had confessed from her hospital bed. Neither one of them had mentioned it since she had returned home. She always had a bright smile for him, but the shadows on her face still lingered when she thought nobody was looking. The distance between them remained despite his efforts. "I'll have my phone with me. Call if you need anything." She smiled.
"I will," she promised. "I love you."
"Love you, too," he replied as he headed out the door.
Bucky was one of the first to arrive at the UN meeting room. The tables had been labeled with names at each seat. Bucky found his, and realized he was seated next to Natasha. She was already there, sitting back in her seat with her arms folded over her chest. She looked up at him with a half-smirk.
"Hey, partner," she greeted him as he sat heavily down in the seat next to her. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"With all the resources and people they have at their disposal, why did they stick me with you?" he groused good naturedly. Natasha nudged the folder on the table in front of them in his direction.
"Me and you? I have no idea. It's not like we have… similar areas of expertise or anything," she answered wryly. Bucky picked up the folder and saw that it was labeled 'Interstellar Espionage and Covert Operations.' Natasha gave him a significant look. "I guess this is gonna be our baby." Bucky nodded slowly, starting to look through the paperwork in the folder. "So, speaking of babies, how's the family? How's Nyssa doing?"
"Good, they're good," he said absently, scanning through the opening paragraphs of their assignment.
"Really?" Natasha responded disbelievingly. "Because word on the street was that Nyssa still looked like death, even though they let her come home." Bucky snapped the folder shut and turned his full attention on her.
"Actually, she's exceeding all expectations," he informed her. "She's off of oxygen and getting stronger every day." Natasha's face registered surprise.
"Really?" She smiled. "That's good to hear. Does Marquis still come around?" Bucky shook his head. Between Nyssa being out of commission and Avengers Tower going on lockdown, he hadn't heard from or seen his wife's employee since the day he had taken her to the hospital.
"I'm not sure if Superkids is going to be in business anymore," he admitted. He would have to discuss it with Nyssa and find out what her plans were for that.
"That must be a relief for you," Natasha observed. Bucky frowned.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked slowly. Natasha shrugged.
"I mean, have you seen him?" she queried incredulously. "That man could be a model. You might be lucky your wife is blind." Bucky's frown deepened.
"I'm lucky she doesn't have a wandering eye," he said frostily. "Maybe I should warn Bruce that you do?" Natasha's eyebrows rose.
"Just because I'm with Bruce doesn't mean I'm blind," she replied archly. "It also doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it. Relax. I was mostly joking anyway."
"Mostly?" Bucky emphasized back to her. She nodded.
"I mean, he is a very good-looking man. But the rest…" She gestured vaguely and shook her head. "I don't really think Nyssa would mess around on you." Bucky felt a twinge of his conscience, like a thin knife sliding into his gut, as he recalled his own moment of weakness.
"Right," he replied uneasily. Flipping open the folder once again, he began paging through the thick stack of papers. After the initial section, which seemed to be a description of operations for their new program, there was nearly a ream of personnel files. "Are these… potential recruits?" Natasha frowned slightly, leaning over to look more closely at them.
"Looks like," she acknowledged. "Oooh… this one could be useful." She pulled a dossier from the pile to read it more thoroughly.
"See-sha, See-sha, See-sha," the twins chanted as they waited outside the door to Steve and Seraphina's apartment. They were almost as excited to be out of the house and visiting friends as Nyssa was. The door opened, and Sera grinned as she saw her friend standing outside.
"Come on in, guys," she said, standing aside as the twins charged past her. "Sisi is really excited to see you." The little girl in the living room bounced up and down, clapping her hands. "And so am I," Sera added. "Being a toddler's only source of entertainment for weeks on end is exhausting." She sighed dramatically, then turned her full attention to Nyssa. "Plus, it's so good to see you! How are you feeling? You look amazing, especially compared to the last time I saw you. Can I get you some coffee?"
"Coffee would be great," Nyssa accepted, slipping off her shoes and padding into the apartment, Darshan at her side. "It smells amazing in here."
"I've got cupcakes in the oven, and cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter," Seraphina acknowledged. "I have one day left before I'm due back in court now that the quarantine is lifted. I'm starting to consider quitting my practice and opening a bakery instead." Sera put a large, fragrant cinnamon roll on a plate and slid it in front of her friend.
"Mmm, that smells delicious," Nyssa commented, pulling a gooey chunk off and popping it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and chewed blissfully. "Tastes even better," she proclaimed. "That does sound like a delicious venture, but won't your clients be disappointed?" Seraphina sighed.
"I mean, it's mostly a pipe dream," she admitted. "Maybe someday I'll retire, open up a little cupcake shop in Soho or West Village…." Nyssa snorted.
"You could if you really wanted to," she opined, popping another bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth. "I'd pay money for this."
"Yeah, but that whole… arc of the moral universe still needs the hands to bend it towards justice," Sera sighed. "And these days, it needs every set it can get. So, I'll just be a weekend baker for now."
"What has Steve been up to?" Nyssa inquired. "I mean, other than eating baked goods." Seraphina grinned.
"Mmm, he was painting up a storm. I can hardly walk around his art room or our bedroom now, there's so many canvases. I'm negotiating with some of the galleries in town to put them on display so we can free up some space around here. But honey, you haven't seen the inside of my refrigerator. I've still got three dozen cupcakes, two cakes and a pie I made since last weekend, and I think he's tired of sugar. I think he's looking forward to me going back to work just so there isn't so much… temptation around here all the time." She half-chuckled to herself. "At least, that's what he calls it."
"Well, if you want to offload some of this temptation, I have a few people I owe thanks and apologies to," Nyssa mentioned. Seraphina frowned, consternation and concern displacing the contentment that she had settled into.
"Apologies?" she repeated. "Apologies for what? Getting sick? Nyssa, you shouldn't have to apologize for that." Nyssa shook her head.
"Not for that specifically, no," she denied. "More for… obligations cast aside, unintentional oversights, that type of thing."
"Because you were sick. In the hospital," Seraphina pointed out darkly. "You nearly died. If there's anyone who needs cake to be happy to see you again, they don't deserve to be in your life."
"I'm not saying they need it," Nyssa returned. "I'm sure they don't. But it would make me feel better to… not arrive empty-handed." Seraphina sighed and pulled the cupcakes out of the oven.
"It would be nice to have more space in the fridge again," she reflected. "And if it'll make you feel better…."
"I'll pay you for them," Nyssa offered. Sera huffed indignantly.
"Don't you even think of it," she refused.
The morning meetings were long, and more intense than Bucky had been anticipating. He hadn't been expecting to meet with members of the CIA, KGB, Mi6, ASIS, ISI, DGFI, Mossad and DGSE all in the same room. What he had presumed to be an introduction to their common goal quickly devolved into a debriefing and interrogation session as they all wanted as much information on alien biology and technology as he could give them. Once they all realized he could understand their native languages without using the provided interpreters, they didn't bother waiting for translation. He found himself under a nearly constant barrage of questions in five different languages and three different dialects of English. After a couple hours, he was starting to get a headache. With some effort, he was able to return the discussion to what their purpose was supposed to be: creating a cooperative covert ops and espionage organization. He was finally satisfied that they had made some progress by the time the meeting ended. It was time for lunch, and he was supremely relieved they would not be meeting again in the afternoon.
Steve found him in the commissary and set his lunch tray down next to his, seating himself with a sigh.
"Is this what progress and peace are supposed to feel like?" Steve asked wearily, running a hand down his face. "Because it kinda feels more like beating your head against a brick wall."
"I thought you'd be used to that kind of thing by now," Bucky teased. Steve gave him a grudging half-smile.
"How was your meeting?" he asked. Bucky shrugged.
"Not much different from yours, from the sound of it," he replied. "I think one of the most difficult pieces is going to be making sure our agents aren't more loyal to the interests of their nations of origin than to the good of the planet."
"You'll have to be careful who you recruit," Steve noted. Bucky nodded.
"How about you?" he asked, taking a bite of his burger.
"Well, we finally settled on a name," he said with a note of forced cheerfulness. Bucky raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah?" he asked expectantly. "What's it going to be?"
"Stellar Corps," Steve replied, the note of pride in his voice leaving Bucky no doubt who had come up with the name.
"Not bad," he pronounced. "We didn't even get that far."
"Maybe this afternoon," Steve suggested. Bucky shook his head.
"We're not meeting again today," he informed his friend. "They have other engagements, and I have an appointment with Valkyrie Arms." Steve gave him a surprised look.
"Valkyrie Arms? Are you getting some updates to your arsenal?" he queried.
"You think my arsenal needs updating?" Bucky volleyed back, then shook his head. "No, they want me for some ad campaign or something. They said something about a photo shoot."
"Photo shoot?" Bucky looked up as Sam sat down with a chuckle. "You adding model to your long list of questionable career choices?"
"I'm sure the focus will be the guns, not my face," Bucky retorted. Sam snorted.
"You're not all that familiar with marketing and advertising, are you?" he commented dryly. Bucky gave him a hard look.
"Not exactly my area of expertise, no," he said slowly. Sam chuckled and shook his head.
"Well, you get back to me tomorrow and tell me how much they focused on the guns, and how much they focused on your guns. Ahight?" Sam dug into his lunch while Bucky regarded him with dismay.
"Brooklyn, honey, make sure you hold the box level. We don't want to bring him smashed cupcakes," Nyssa chided gently. She could see Marquis was home before she knocked on the door. He registered surprise at the sound, which turned into astonishment and delight when he opened the door to see Nyssa and the twins.
"Papa yo, yuh alive, boss?" he exclaimed. Stepping back, he gestured for them to come in. "Come on in. Wat's dis?" The last part of his statement was directed at Brooklyn, who held the box of cupcakes up over her head towards him.
"An apology," Nyssa admitted. Mystified wisps of confusion brushed through his countenance.
"Apology?" He repeated. "For what?"
"With me in the hospital so long, I imagine it created problems for you," she explained. "Especially so abruptly."
"You plan to be sick?" Marquis asked skeptically, highlights of amusement flickering through his presence. Nyssa huffed a brief chuckle.
"No, of course not," she denied. "It still made things more difficult, even if it wasn't intentional." Marquis shook his head.
"No apology needed," he said easily. "I will take the cakes, though. Better belly buss than good food waste." He helped himself to one of the cupcakes.
"Is this where you live?" Jamie asked, looking around wide-eyed at the apartment. Marquis nodded.
"Eh-heh. I live here," he confirmed. "Most of this belongs to muh roomie, Jyoti."
"Where is Jyoti?" Jamie asked curiously. Marquis shrugged.
"Off liming, no doubt. We don't keep track of each other."
"What's this?" Brooklyn asked, shuffling through some papers strewn across the table. Marquis stepped quickly over to rescue them from her curious grasp.
"Important," he informed her in a more serious tone than Nyssa was accustomed to hearing from him. She gave him an inquiring look. He tidied the papers self-consciously. "While we were on quarantine, I got a call from Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Romanov. Seems they want me to be a teacher at some new school they plan to open," he explained. "I reminded them that I didn't have any formal schooling for teaching. They said they thought I was perfect for the job, so they'd help me fix that. So… I'm applying to colleges." A delighted grin spread across Nyssa's face.
"I'm so very glad," she breathed. "What do they want you to teach?" Marquis grinned and shrugged, shaking his head.
"Not really sure," he admitted. "They just said 'normal subjects.' Ms. Romanov mentioned several times that the children should 'learn all the normal subjects, not just combat'." He gestured with his lower set of hands, puzzled at the idea of training children to fight in the first place. "Whatever that means." Nyssa chuckled.
"I think it means you will all learn a lot from each other," she mused.
Bucky would never admit it to him, but Sam had been right. The moment he had arrived, they had ushered him into a make-up chair. He had spent the next hour being primped, polished, hair styled and make-up applied. They even rubbed oil on his arms and chest, which confused him somewhat. He assumed he was just going to be putting his shirt back on anyway. He was then escorted to a large room with lights and cameras set up and pointed at a screen. Erik Feinberg sauntered over, looking Bucky over appraisingly as he would a racehorse.
"Captain Barnes, glad you agreed to this," he said crisply. Bucky's new contract with the UN made this promotion official, so there was no need to correct him this time. Erik gestured to the androgynous-looking person approaching them. "This is Candide, our photographer. Just follow directions, and you should earn that paycheck in short order."
"I think I can handle that," Bucky said dryly. He was military, after all. Following orders was second nature. Candide regarded him with a frown for several long moments, then snapped a pair of perfectly manicured fingers.
"Lose the shirt. I want to get the full effect of that arm," Candide pronounced decisively. Bucky frowned.
"I thought these were combat weapons," he pointed out reasonably. "I can't think of any combat situations that would require me to be shirtless." This earned him an arched look and a raised eyebrow from Candide, who gestured grandly to the room around them.
"Does this look like a combat situation to you?" the photographer inquired archly. "Shirt off. We want to see all of your… assets." Thinking of the five-figure compensation written into his contract, Bucky begrudgingly obeyed.
"Brooklyn, take my hand while we're close to the street. Jamie, hold on to your sister's. Remember, holding hands is how we stay safe," Nyssa reminded her children as they exited the market. Darshan padded obediently by her side in his working harness, while her other hand was occupied by her oft-wayward daughter. Not for the first time, she thought enviously of Marquis' four hands, and how useful they must be. The bustling city street was crowded, with more people pressing in on her than she had experienced in a long time. To keep from being overwhelmed, she kept her mental shields up and held them tightly. It had already been a full day, but she just had to get back to Avenger's Tower and the refuge of their little apartment. It was only a few blocks. They turned the corner and found themselves on a relatively empty sidewalk. Holding tightly to Brooklyn's hand, she took a deep breath of relief, looking forward to the relative peace of their apartment. A man approached them on the sidewalk, heading directly towards Nyssa. She moved aside to let him pass, but he shifted as well, still in line to collide with them. Nyssa stopped short, regarding him warily. The vague sense of apprehension that had been building since lunchtime exploded into alarm in her chest. Darshan rumbled suspiciously, hackles rising.
"Excuse me, sir," Nyssa called out. "We just want to pass."
"I bet you do," the man replied, keeping his voice low. "But you're going to come for a little ride with me, instead." She heard a vehicle pull up to the curb beside them. Darshan's keen nose picked up the distinctive scent of metal and gunpowder, and both he and his mistress heard the soft click of the safety being disengaged. "Unless you want the kiddos' brains splattered all over the sidewalk."
When Bucky had been a young man, before his years of war and captivity, he probably would have enjoyed being the center of attention, with bright lights shining on his oiled skin. Those days were long gone. While he wasn't as wary and paranoid as he had been a few years ago, it was still uncomfortable. He consoled himself with the table of gleaming artillery they had set up for him to hold and play with while they took pictures. Sadly, none of them were loaded.
"Yes, yes, dark and broody," Candide said approvingly. "I am liking the war-weary look." Bucky stared at the photographer. It wasn't a look; that was just his face. More approving noises accompanied a flurry of shutter clicks.
"Bucky!" He glanced over to the side at the sound of his name, and was shocked to see Laura waving at him from beyond the circle of lights. He had sent her a lengthy text after their brief interlude, but she hadn't replied. He had assumed she was angry with him, which hurt, but was probably for the best. But now she was here, smiling hopefully at him from across the room.
"Let's take a break!" Candide announced. "I want everyone back in fifteen minutes! Captain Barnes, you need to be back in ten for some touch-ups." Bucky nodded and gratefully escaped the glare of the spotlights. Laura half-jogged across the floor to catch up with him.
"Bucky, wait!" she called. With a sigh, he paused and half-turned to wait for her. She stopped a couple feet away, her gaze quickly scanning appreciatively over his oiled chest and arms, then back up at his face. "I gotta say, whatever you're selling, I'll buy it." He wasn't certain how to take the compliment, all things considered.
"What are you doing here?" he asked warily.
"I tried you at home, but there was nobody there," Laura explained. "Friday said you'd be here."
"Okay, but why are you here?" he tried again, annoyed by her non-answer. She held a hand up, palm towards him.
"Just… give me a couple minutes, okay?" she requested. "I think we need to talk. I didn't want to do it over text or email." Bucky shook his head.
"What is there to talk about?" he asked tersely. "We made a mistake. I made a mistake. One I don't intend to repeat." Laura looked down at the floor.
"I know," she said softly. "I'm not asking for that." Bucky turned and took a step away from her, intending to see what they had for him at the refreshment table. She caught him by the forearm. "Bucky, please don't walk away from me." He paused, looking down at her hand wrapped around his arm. "I count you as one of my closest friends. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." Frowning, he turned back towards her. "Look, I know I messed things up between us. It's been so hard since Clint…" She hesitated, then forced it out. "…died. It's been so lonely. And you were there, so helpful and… and kind. And in so many ways, you remind me of him, what I loved about him. It's not an excuse. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I never intended to hurt you. Or Nyssa." At the mention of his wife's name, Bucky closed his eyes.
"Look, I'm not making any promises," he told her finally, opening his eyes again. "I'm going to need some time. But don't mention anything about this, that, anything, to Nyssa. She has enough on her plate without me adding to it. Clear?" Laura nodded.
"How long, do you think?" she asked hesitantly. Bucky raised his eyebrows at her and shook his head slightly.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'll let you know." He glanced at the clock. "I gotta get back." Laura nodded but remained silent. Bucky glanced over his shoulder as he settled back into the makeup chair, but it appeared she had gone.
Thanks to karina001, DarylDixon'sLover, SomebodyWhoCares and my lovely guest with the newspaper at the ready for your lovely comments. I'm relieved that y'all aren't mad at Bucky or Laura. It's a sticky situation, to be sure, but also understandable given the stresses everyone has been under. Of course, Bucky shouldn't be keeping it a secret. That never ends well.
