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


Jeopardy

Nyssa tensed, shifting her weight onto her back leg. Darshan dropped his head low, growling. Nyssa dropped his harness and rested her hand on his shoulder, maintaining their connection. With her other hand, she nudged Brooklyn over.

"Get behind me," she instructed in a hushed voice. Brooklyn obeyed, for once. Jameson was already hiding behind her, clinging to the back of her pant leg. Nyssa directed her attention back to the man holding on a gun on her and her children. "We're not going anywhere with you," she informed him. "But if you let us go, we can pretend this never happened." The man let out a short bark of laughter.

"Not likely," he sneered. "I've waited a long time for this day. The Winter Soldier killed my family. Now he's going to know what it's like to have everything you care about ripped from you." Nyssa's heart dropped into her stomach. She didn't want to have to fight in front of her children, but she didn't see any other way out of this one. In the van, she sensed two other men waiting, watching the situation unfolding on the sidewalk. She lifted her hand from Darshan's coat, and he immediately leapt at their assailant. His jaws closed around the man's arm, yanking it to the side just as he fired, sending the shot flying wildly. Nyssa was not far behind the dog, executing a handspring flip and delivering a hard kick to his jaw, sending him flying backwards. He landed hard on the pavement, and Nyssa was already on top of him. She grasped his wrist, sending him from stunned awareness to deep slumber in an instant. Taking the revolver from his hand, she fired it into the windows of the van. Her shot traveled directly through the head of the man in the passenger seat, and he slumped down, senseless. The bullet continued through the nose of the man in the driver's seat. A yelp followed by profanity drifted through the new hole in the window. Tires squealed and the smell of burning rubber filled the air as the van peeled away. Nyssa exhaled and dropped her hand down at her side. Darshan immediately placed his nose in her palm. She glanced over at where the twins were still standing on the sidewalk, hands clasped together. The entire encounter had lasted only moments.

"You guys okay?" she asked anxiously. Jameson's face crumpled, and he began to wail. She rushed over and pulled both of her children into a hug. Jamie clung to her, his tears soaking her shirt. "Are you hurt?" She didn't sense any physical hurt from her son, just abject terror.

"No, scared!" he wailed. She rubbed his back soothingly. There was a faint trace of fear in her daughter, but mostly Brooklyn was full of awe and adoration.

"That was so cool, Mom!" she squealed. "You kicked ass!" Nyssa directed her attention towards the man still lying on the sidewalk. He remained unconscious for the time being, but he might not be much longer. Darshan was still watching him with suspicious eyes. The scent of blood was heavy in the air.

"Come on, kids," Nyssa urged. "Let's go."

"I wanna see Daddy!" Jameson sobbed. Nyssa nodded. She was feeling shaken herself, and wouldn't mind the reassurance of Bucky's presence. She wasn't entirely certain that their apartment would be safe right now. Would there be someone waiting for them there as well? Standing, she took her children by the hands. Darshan moved to take the lead, his watchful gaze taking in everything, scanning for potential threats.

"Let's catch a cab to go see Daddy," Nyssa suggested. Jameson sniffled, mollified.


"No, no, no, this is all wrong," Candide fussed. "More flex. More smolder. More… oil!" The photographer gestured to Bucky's makeup artist, and the harried-looking girl hurried over with her bottle of baby oil. Bucky wrinkled his nose in disgust. He already felt like he had enough oil on him to be deep fried. He was looking forward to this being over so he could finally go home and take a shower. He moved his assault rifle out of the way, careful not to point it at anyone.

"Bucky!" He looked over, startled to hear Nyssa's voice. At first, he thought maybe he was imagining it, but then he spotted her in the shadows beyond the bright circle of lights. She was pale, and from her expression he could tell something was wrong.

"Nyssa? What's going on? Why the hell are you here?" Pushing past the girl dabbing oil on his pectorals, he closed the distance between him and his wife. As he drew closer, he realized she had both children in tow. A stray thought made him glance around, making sure Laura Barton was gone. He was relieved that he didn't see her. Jameson screamed as Bucky came nearer, climbing Nyssa like a tree and burying his face in her neck. Bucky stopped, confounded.

"Shh, it's okay," Nyssa said soothingly, rocking her son back and forth. "It's the gun he's upset about," she informed Bucky. Bucky lowered the rifle and slowly set it on the floor.

"It's okay, buddy, it's not loaded. I'm not going to shoot anyone," he said placatingly. Nyssa smiled grimly.

"Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with the last one we just had pointed at us," she said. Bucky's eyes widened.

"What?" he gasped, appalled. Nyssa nodded.

"Someone just attempted to kidnap us at gunpoint," she informed him.

"But Mommy and Darshan kicked his ass!" Brooklyn volunteered cheerfully from her mother's side. "Darshan was all grr-rawr, and then Mommy went whooo-ah! And then blam, blam, blam at the men in the van, and then they went rrrrrreeeech and drove away." She animatedly acted out the scene for her father.

"Yeah, kinda like that," Nyssa agreed. She looked back up at Bucky. "He wasn't acting alone, but he had a personal investment. He said... the Winter Soldier killed his family." The breath left Bucky's lungs like a sucker punch to the gut. His past sins were coming back to haunt him – and endangering his family.

"Who was he working for?" he asked breathlessly. Nyssa shook her head.

"I didn't stop to dig that up, I'm afraid," she said ruefully. "I wanted to get out of there before the one that got away came back with reinforcements. But hopefully we can still find out. I called the police on the way over here, and they picked him up."

"Captain Barnes, is something the matter?" Erik Feinberg crossed over to them. Bucky looked over at him.

"Mr. Feinberg, this is my wife, Dr. Nyssa Taylor, and our children," he introduced. Erik nodded to Nyssa.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure," he said smoothly, then turned his attention back to Bucky. "I'm not entirely sure this set is an appropriate place for children, Captain."

"My family was just attacked, Mr. Feinberg," Bucky said darkly. Erik looked startled.

"Well, in that case, they can stay here until you're done," he allowed. Bucky shook his head.

"I'm done now," he pronounced firmly. "I'm sure you got what you needed."

"But Captain, if you recall, your contract states…"

"Fuck your contract," Bucky growled. "I'm done." Grabbing a nearby towel, he rubbed oil off his chest and arms as best he could. Not bothering with a shirt, he put his arm around Nyssa and walked his family towards the door.

"For today, right?" Erik called after them. "We'll be in touch about the next session?" Bucky didn't reply; didn't even give him a backwards glance. Erik folded his arms over his chest and watched them leave.


"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! We saw so many people today!" Brooklyn enthusiastically narrated over her plate later that evening. "We played with See-sha and visited Auntie Seraphina, Grampa Elijah and Marquis." She ticked the names off on her fingers. "Then we went to the grocery store, then Mommy fought the man with the gun, and then we visited you, Daddy!" Bucky glanced over at his wife. He felt better after showering and changing clothes, and he'd had a chat with Friday about security settings – both to increase surveillance in the building given the kidnapping attempt, and also to make sure his schedule was only released to certain people who needed to know.

"Busy day," he commented. He frowned slightly. "You visited Marquis, too?" Nyssa nodded.

"I wanted to check in with him after leaving him with all the children at such short notice," she confirmed. "And to make sure I hadn't gotten him sick, too. But he seems well."

"His apartment is so tiny, Dad!" Brooklyn interjected. "And he shares it with someone else! He let us play with his metal drum. He said he missed us."

"I didn't realize you two were close enough that you visit him at home," Bucky observed, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Well, we have been working pretty closely together for over a year," Nyssa replied, giving her husband an askance glance. "I would count him as a friend."

"I see," Bucky replied. "Is he taking over Superkids? Is that what he was doing while you were sick?"

"Kind of. Laila and Jarek still needed daycare after the Tower went on lockdown," Nyssa explained. "So, he stepped up for that. I think next week I can probably take over again. At some point, I may have to start looking for another assistant. I guess Wanda and Natasha want to hire him for their residential school they are working on setting up." Bucky raised an eyebrow, thinking of Natasha's comments about Marquis earlier that day.

"Is that so?" he commented.

"Mmm-hmm," Nyssa confirmed absently, turning towards Jameson, who hadn't said a word and was pushing pieces of pork chop around his plate with his fork. "Jamie, honey, aren't you hungry?" Jamie shrugged.

"Not really," he sighed. "It just… tastes so sad." Bucky frowned.

"Well, I think it's very good," he declared. "Mine doesn't taste bad at all."

"No, no," Jamie protested. "Not bad. Sad. It tastes so, so sad." Bucky gave his son a puzzled look, not really understanding what he was talking about. Nyssa seemed to have an idea, because she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," she reminded him. Jameson pushed his plate away.

"I can't look at it," he pouted.

"What about the potatoes or the peas?" Nyssa asked. "You like those." Jamie shook his head.

"They're too close to the piggy," he whined. Bucky took Jameson's plate and scraped the meat off onto his own, then set it back down in front of his son.

"There, all fixed," he pronounced. Jameson looked forlornly at his plate, then glanced over at his father's plate.

"How can you eat all that sad?" he asked softly.

"Because it's delicious," Bucky replied, pointedly raising a forkful of meat to his mouth and chewing it with relish. Jamie gave him a sour look.

"He can't taste the sadness, honey," Nyssa said gently. Bucky gave his wife a sharp look at the suggestion that she could.

"I ate all of mine!" Brooklyn announced, patting her empty plate with a flat hand. "What's for dessert?"


After dinner, Bucky led the twins downstairs to the newly sanitized gym. This time of day, nobody was using it. He brought them over to the padded section used for sparring.

"Okay, both of you stand against the wall, right there." He pointed, and they moved. He crouched down in front of them. "There are people in this world that might try to hurt you sometimes," he told them bluntly. "I want you to be clear on this. Your mom and I will always try to protect you. You aren't required to fight them on your own. If you find yourself in a situation where someone is trying to hurt you, you try to get away from them first. You get away, and you find me. Understand?" They both nodded slowly, eyes wide. "Good. If you can't get away, then you fight. I'm going to teach you how."

"Daddy, I already know how to fight," Brooklyn protested, balling up both hands into fists. Bucky nodded.

"You throw a mean punch," he agreed. "But there's more to defeating an enemy than just hitting them once. Especially if they're bigger than you." He backed up and gestured for her to approach him. "Now, I know we're always telling you to use gentle hands, and you still should, in most cases. But this is the exception. Brooklyn, I want you to hit me as hard as you can." Brooklyn stepped forward, fists clenched, and swung a right hook at his midsection. He let out an "oof" as the blow drove the air from his lungs momentarily, and he was again astonished by the strength in someone so young. "Ho-kay, that was good," he allowed. "But you'll get more power into it with a wider stance, and make sure the power is coming from your core, not just your arms." He gently corrected her legs and adjusted her position. Thinking better of letting her use him as a punching bag, he picked up a punching target and held it up for her. "Now try again." Her hit knocked him backwards. He got back up with a chuckle. "Better. Now Jameson, your turn." Jameson stepped forward hesitantly.


"Nnngh! Let me go! Help, Jamie!" Brooklyn squirmed in her father's grasp as they wrestled on the floor, then reached out a hand towards her brother. Jameson quickly came to his sister's aid, bracing his feet against Bucky's midsection and pulling on his arm. Bucky put up a token struggle, then let his arm be pulled away. Brooklyn scrambled free, took a few steps back, then ran and took a flying leap at her father. He grunted as she landed on him. He had gone over some basics with them, pointed out weak points they should target. They had listened as well as preschoolers could, and followed his direction. Then the sparring session had devolved into wrestling and roughhousing on the mat. Their giggles and shrieks of laughter echoed in the gym, a rare sound for that space. From the corner, Bucky's phone began to beep.

"Well, that's time," Bucky announced, standing up. "Let's go back upstairs and get jammies on."

"Awwww," the twins chorused in disappointment.

"I know, that was fun. We can do it again tomorrow," he informed them. "But now it's time for bed."

"I don't wanna go to bed," Brooklyn whined, flopping backwards onto the mat, limp as a ragdoll. Unfazed, Bucky scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, then extended a hand to Jameson.

"Come on, let's go." Jamie obediently slipped his hand into his father's and walked placidly beside him. At Bucky's back, Brooklyn grunted, straining against his grip and throwing her thirty-five pounds around as best as she could.

"Uuuungh, put me down, Daddy!" she demanded. Bucky glanced down at Jameson.

"This sure is a noisy sack of potatoes," he observed out loud. Jameson giggled. When they arrived back at the apartment, the kitchen was sparkling clean, and Nyssa had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

"Shhhh," he admonished, setting Brooklyn down. "Let's be quiet as mice so we don't wake Mommy up."

"No!" Brooklyn shouted, darting towards the couch. "I want Mommy to do bedtime! MOOOOOOOMMMEEEEEEE!" Bucky caught her before she dove on top of Nyssa on the couch, but Brooklyn continued screaming. Her voice rose in both volume and pitch until it became painful, and Bucky clapped his hands over his ears defensively. Nyssa jerked awake, regarding their daughter in alarm. The windows shook and began to crack. Brooklyn brought her fists down on the coffee table in front of the couch, and it cracked, one of the legs breaking off completely. Nyssa stood and scooped Brooklyn into her arms, swaying and bouncing in a comforting maternal dance as she murmured reassurance into her daughter's ear. The screaming ceased, turning into sobs against her mother's shoulder. Nyssa rubbed her back soothingly as she carried her down the hall. She paused at the door to the twins' room and looked back at where Bucky and Jameson were still watching, stunned.

"Come get jammies on, Jamie," she called gently. Obediently, Jameson followed. Bucky let out a long breath and regarded the broken pieces of coffee table on the living room floor. When he had started his woodworking hobby, he mostly made pieces as gifts, and had started small. This table was the first big thing that he had been proud enough of to bring into his home. Darshan sniffed at the pieces curiously, then trotted down the hall and lay down in front of the twins' door. Picking up the piece, Bucky lugged them out of the apartment and down to his workshop. He placed the smaller pieces on his workbench, and set the rest on the floor. He paused and looked over the fragments. Some of them might still be able to be mended. Some would have to be replaced. Unless he just wanted to start over and make a new, better coffee table. Heaving a sigh, he threw a rag over the pieces on the workbench. It had been a long day, and he didn't have the ambition to fix this right now. Shaking his head, he went back upstairs. He helped himself to a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch. It wasn't long before Nyssa emerged from the twins' room.

"So what the hell was that?" Bucky commented, glancing at the crack in the window. Nyssa shook her head.

"Just a lot of feelings at the culmination of a very hard and scary day," she sighed. Bucky gave her a reproving look.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said shortly. Nyssa sat down beside him slowly; her expression thoughtful.

"I believe we are seeing our daughter's gifts emerge," she replied meditatively. Bucky frowned.

"Her… gifts?" he repeated blankly. That loud, painful voice hadn't seemed like much of a gift. Nyssa nodded.

"Her powers, if you like that term better," she amended. He folded his arms over his chest.

"I thought you said those wouldn't come until puberty," he recalled. "Is she…?" He didn't finish his question, but Nyssa was already shaking her head.

"I think, because of the serum, they're developing their powers early," she informed him. He blinked at her.

"I was expecting them to have powers like yours," he said. She shook her head.

"Variations on a theme," she reminded him. "It's not always predictable. Historically, members of my family can control different types of energy."

"Is that what that screeching was?" Bucky asked, gritting his teeth at the memory.

"Sound is also a form of energy," Nyssa replied mildly. "Our daughter has a voice that cannot be ignored."

"She certainly isn't very ladylike," Bucky grumbled. He knew things were different now, but he had grown up in a time where children were to be seen and not heard, especially girls. Some days the adjustment was harder than others. Nyssa raised her eyebrows at him.

"Though she be little, she be fierce," she quoted. "Ladylike doesn't make an impact on the world. She's going to do big things someday, I predict. As long as we can avoid stifling her spirit." She shifted on the couch, drawing her legs up underneath her. "This isn't the first time Jameson has complained about eating meat. I think he's sensitive to the circumstances under which the animal was killed. He can sense the echoes of their suffering."

"Sensitive," he repeated. It was an apt word for Jameson. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked dourly. She shrugged.

I'm going to start making vegetarian dishes, I think. There are a lot of protein sources that don't have to be slaughtered to end up on the table."

"So, we're letting our toddler determine what food we serve in our home now?" he replied incredulously. Nyssa gave him a tolerant look.

"It's upsetting to him. Just think of it like a food allergy. Nobody is asking you to give it up completely. When you're out of the house, you can have steak and burgers and pork chops to your heart's content. We just won't be serving meat here." She shrugged. "I've flirted with the idea of going vegetarian for years, just never converted." Bucky glanced at her sideways with a raised eyebrow.

"You think Brooklyn will be okay with giving up her chicken nuggets?" he asked skeptically. Nyssa chuckled.

"They have alternatives," she reminded him, then sighed. "We'll get it figured out."

"Should we really cater to him like that, though?" He shook his head. "It's not like the world is going to change because he can't handle it. He's too soft. He'll need to toughen up, or the world will eat him alive." Nyssa frowned at him.

"Life can be difficult when you sense more than others do," she agreed, and he realized belatedly that the same term could be applied to her. "But that doesn't necessarily mean it's a weakness. Nor is softness. Life is hard, but the answer isn't to become hardened. A hard man is not a strong man, he is a hollow man. The hurts don't go away just because you won't acknowledge them." She cocked her head to the side. "If their personalities were reversed, would it bother you nearly as much?" Bucky contemplated the question for a moment, but didn't reply. Nyssa leaned towards him, resting her hand on his. "All we have to do is love our children just as they are, without requiring them to be something they are not," she said simply. "Giving them a strong foundation of love and acceptance will make them more resilient, which they need far more than a tough outer shell." Bucky shook his head.

"I just worry that… he's going to trust the wrong person, and it's going to go very, very badly," he said softly. Nyssa nodded agreement.

"The world will teach them that life is hard, and that people can be thoughtless, malicious and cruel," she noted. "They don't need to learn that from us. Especially not at this age. Right now, they need to know that they can trust us, so that we can teach them who else is safe to trust, and protect them from everyone else." Bucky nodded agreement.

"Speaking of which…" He shifted on the couch, turning more fully towards her, and took both of her hands in his. "I want you to start carrying." Nyssa dipped her head with a soft noise of dismay.

"I've lived in this city for almost twenty years. I've never had to carry unless I was on a mission that required it," she observed. Bucky nodded regretfully.

"I know, but things are different now. We have children to protect," he pointed out.

"I think I did a good job of doing that today," Nyssa protested. "And they arrested him, so he shouldn't be a problem for us anymore. I'm sure they'll track down the driver of the van." Bucky shook his head and leaned in closer.

"Today could have gone very, very differently, and you wouldn't even be here to have this conversation with me," he pointed out gravely. "Even if today worked out okay, it might not next time. There are…. A lot of people who have very valid reasons to wish the Winter Soldier harm. And even you have managed to make a few enemies along the way."

"I know, but… I don't want to live in constant fear," she said softly. "Jumping at shadows, expecting evil lurking around every corner…"

"I don't want you to be scared," he said reassuringly. "I just want you to be cautious." Nyssa exhaled heavily.

"I will be armed when I'm out," she promised. "If it will make you feel better."

"Thank you," Bucky breathed. He tilted his head into hers, his forehead lightly pressing against hers. "And maybe we really should start looking at moving out of the city."

"Into the middle of nowhere?" She laughed softly.

"Can you imagine it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Acres of green space, living things, maybe a lake… and just us." He reached out, rubbing his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, pulling her into him. He pressed his mouth against hers, his left hand tracing trails down her back, and he felt her shiver in his arms. Pausing with his palm at her lower back, he drew her body flush with his as he drank of her deeply. His right hand crept up her shirt, gliding up to find the soft and sensitive skin of her breast. She moaned softly, her arms encircling his shoulders as she clung to him.

"Mmmm… paradise," she murmured in his ear, then gasped and groaned. He continued kissing and caressing her, encouraged by the sounds she was making. It had been a long time since they had been able to do this, and he wanted to savor every moment. Suddenly, she stiffened in his arms and pulled away. He frowned in frustrated confusion, but then heard crying coming from down the hall. Nyssa extracted herself from his embrace and turned expectantly. Small feet pitter-pattered towards them, and Jameson emerged with tear-streaked face, sobbing.

"Oh, honey, did you have a bad dream?" she asked sympathetically. He nodded through his tears and stretched his arms towards her. She scooped him up and carried him back down the hallway. Before she disappeared into their room, she turned and looked back at Bucky with a pained, regretful expression. "Sorry," she mouthed, then vanished through the door. Bucky heaved an exasperated sigh and sat back on the couch, adjusting his pants against his now-painful arousal.


Thanks to karina001, SomebodyWhoCares and DarylDixon'sLover for your reviews! I know it's shocking I have another chapter up so soon, but things are moving fast because we're getting closer to the end and I've been planning this part *forever.* Hopefully the next part will come just as quickly.