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


Unraveling

"What's on yuh mind, Mistah B? Can I get you some coffee? Cupcake?" Marquis smiled broadly and gestured to a handful of cupcakes set out on a plate. Bucky shook his head.

"Ah, no, thanks," he said quickly. "Marquis, you've been working with my wife for awhile now, haven't you?" Marquis' expression remained bemused.

"Yessah," he confirmed.

"And, ah, how would you describe your relationship?" Bucky asked, wrapping his arms around his torso. The fingertips of his left hand brushed against the handle of his gun, preparing to pull it out. "You're a bit closer than your average employer and employee would be, wouldn't you say?" Marquis' eyes were growing wary now, his confusion transmuting into suspicion.

"I don't have a lot of family or friends close by. Your wife has been like a mother or sister to me. So yes, I'd say we're close." The big Trini man moved so the table was between them. His upper arms were folded over his chest, while his lower set braced against the table. "Why?"

"So, you're not… romantically involved?" Bucky blurted. "You've never been… physical together?" Best to just get it out in the open and over with. Marquis' eyes widened, perplexity shifting into dawning realization. Marquis chuckled.

"You mistake me, Mistah B," he rumbled. "I would never carry on with another man's wife. Besides…" He shifted his weight and glanced down bashfully. "Truth be told, ah, I'd rather you than her." Bucky stared blankly at the man. Marquis cleared his throat, misinterpreting Bucky's look as not understanding. "I'm gay, Mistah B." Bucky blinked. Had he truly gotten things so twisted, lost touch with the truth?

"Right, of course," he said finally. "I should have realized…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Marquis." Marquis chuckled again.

"If it prevents a bacchanal, it's not a waste," he opined. Bucky grimaced slightly.

"Might be a little late for that," he admitted. "But, ah… maybe don't mention to anyone that I was here?"

"I'm not macocious," Marquis replied easily. Bucky was unfamiliar with the term, but the man's tone was reassuring. He leaned forward. "You and Nyssa havin' some trouble, ent?" Bucky frowned at him.

"Has she said something?" he asked. Marquis raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not to me. But yuh don't get suspicions like that unless there's other issues," he reasoned. Bucky sighed.

"It's been a very hard year, Marquis," he admitted, staring off into space as he mulled over all they had been through. Marquis nodded sagely.

"Any way I can help?" he asked. Bucky slowly brought his attention back to him.

"Actually, maybe there is," he said thoughtfully.


"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," Brooklyn repeated. "What if I could jump so high, I could jump onto the roof of this building?" Nyssa raised her eyebrows in amusement at her daughter.

"That would be really high," she observed. Brooklyn nodded and took another bite of her frozen yogurt, piled high with chocolate chips, whipped cream and candy sprinkles.

"Yeah, and then when the bad guys come, I could just jump on them, and pow!" She continued chattering, but Nyssa was having difficulty concentrating on what she was saying. She was still upset over Bucky accusing her of cheating on him, and all the issues that implied. She had a hard lump in her stomach, and her mouth was so dry that even the mango pineapple sherbet she had selected was dust in her mouth.

"Mommy," Jameson asked quietly to her left. "Could the bad guys come find us here?" Nyssa put an arm around him comfortingly.

"We'll be okay, honey," she promised. "I'll keep you safe." At her feet, Darshan lay with his head on his front paws. He raised his head, ears pricking forward at the same time Nyssa sensed Bucky drawing nearer. Relief flooded through her. The anger and mistrust that had fairly blasted from him when he had accused her had ebbed away, and now she only sensed an apologetic remorse. He sat down at the empty chair at their table.

"Daddy!" Brooklyn squealed delightedly, throwing her arms around his neck. "Come on, come see all the flavors they have!" Bucky allowed her to pull him from his chair and over to the selection of frozen yogurt flavors and toppings. Nyssa took a deep breath as she watched their daughter regale Bucky with an ongoing narration of descriptions and recommendations. A small smile spread across her face, and she took another bite of her frozen yogurt. It was actually quite tasty and refreshing.

Bucky paid for his creation with Brooklyn dancing beside him in excitement.

"Can I try some of yours, Daddy?" she asked. "You can have some of mine."

"Sure," he said as he carried it back to the empty seat. He took a large spoonful of his frozen creation and tried it. The toppings that Brooklyn had recommended were a bit much, but it was tolerable, and the frozen yogurt had a good flavor.

"How is it, Daddy?" Brooklyn asked, bouncing in her seat. "Do you like it?"

"Mmmm," Bucky said contemplatively. "Tastes a little like crow." Nyssa raised an eyebrow at him, and he knew she had caught the oblique apology. Jameson frowned at him.

"Daddy, how do you know what crows taste like?" he asked accusingly. Bucky gave him a teasing smile.

"You should ask your Uncle Sam," he replied. Jameson's frown deepened.

"He doesn't eat crows," he pointed out. "He doesn't even eat chicken."

"No, but he can talk to hawks and owls, who do eat crows," Bucky pointed out reasonably.

"But that's what your ice cream tastes like?" Brooklyn asked, wrinkling her nose. "Does it taste bad?"

"You said you wanted to try some," Bucky recalled, proffering a spoonful to her. "Want to find out?" Brooklyn looked at the spoon warily, glancing from it to her father and back again. Her face screwed up in courage, and she leaned forward to eat the frozen confection. Her expression brightened.

"Mmm, Daddy, that's good!" she chirped. "It doesn't taste like crows." Bucky smirked at his daughter.

"How do you know?" he asked. "Have you ever eaten a crow? Maybe they are delicious. Maybe they do taste like… strawberry sunrise frozen yogurt with candied cherries, dried banana bits, rainbow sprinkles, whipped cream and jellybeans."

"Daddy!" Brooklyn's tone was scandalized. "They don't taste like that."

"No?" Bucky returned. "Are you sure?"

"If they tasted like that, everyone would eat them," Brooklyn said reasonably. Bucky chuckled.

"Daddy just means that he made a mistake, and he was letting me know he was sorry," Nyssa said quietly. Both children turned to look at their mother.

"What did he do?" Brooklyn asked. She furrowed her brow. "Was it as bad as breaking a table?" Nyssa laughed quietly. Bucky focused intently on his frozen yogurt, waiting to hear her response.

"I don't rank mistakes on a scale like that, Brooklyn. Besides, when you're with someone you love, often mistakes aren't just one-sided. Usually, in a relationship, both people end up making mistakes and hurting each other. And Mommy has made some mistakes, too. But..." She leaned forward and put her arms around both children. "…None of that is anything that either of you need to worry about. We will talk it out, and we will make it up to each other. Because that's what people do when they love each other. And Daddy and I love each other. Very, very much." Bucky swallowed down the hard lump that had materialized in his throat. He had been forgiven for accusing her of cheating, but he wasn't sure if his erstwhile kiss was known or included in the pardon. He also wasn't certain what her mistakes had been, but he had a feeling she would elaborate on it later. For the moment at least, he had his happy family back, but his relief was sullied by the nagging feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.


After their eventful day, the twins seemed to take much longer than usual to drop off to sleep. When Nyssa finally emerged from their room, Bucky was on the couch. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. Instead, he found himself distracted by the photos on his phone, slowly swiping through the past three years of pictures. They had been so happy together, but somewhere along the way, things had gone awry. Nyssa slipped in beside him on the couch, and he lowered his phone to look at her. He was anticipating they were about to have a long-overdue talk. To his surprise, instead Nyssa nestled closely into him, twining her arms around his neck as she pressed her mouth emphatically against his. He stiffened for a split second, surprised by her uncharacteristic boldness. Then he relaxed into her embrace, enjoying the scent and feel and taste of her. Grabbing her hips, he turned on the couch and pulled her flush against him, showing her how she was affecting him. He trailed one hand up under her shirt, skimming lightly up her back along her spine. Predictably, she shivered and moaned against his mouth. He half-smiled at her reaction, gratified that he could still draw such responses from her. Finally, she broke off the kiss, though she remained entwined in his arms. He kept one arm firmly around her waist and brushed a stray hair out of her face with his other hand.

"Not that I'm complaining," he said softly, "but where is this coming from?" She smiled sheepishly, dropping her head down against his shoulder.

"I will admit, I felt shocked, hurt and betrayed that you would accuse me of cheating on you," she admitted, her hand wandering lazily over his neck and chest, fingers finding the spots that sent thrills down his spine. It seemed the room was getting warmer. She lifted her head. "But I also have to admit, I have been neglecting you. I thought I should probably stop that."

"Mmmm." Bucky couldn't really argue with that, so he captured her mouth in another passionate kiss. She whimpered and melted against him. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom. They were both tugging at clothing as soon as he closed the door behind them, leaving a trail of discarded garments on the carpet. The weeks of frustration and repressed desire transformed into unrelenting passion, and he took her with urgency, his need unbridled. He rode the crest, then collapsed onto the bed beside her. Both were covered in a sheen of sweat and out of breath. He flung an arm possessively over her, and she grinned at the ceiling.

"I trust that was satisfactory?" she quipped. He chuckled breathlessly.

"You're always amazing," he affirmed, then glanced sideways at her. "But you didn't get yours. And you're still holding back." She sighed, the color rising slightly in her cheeks. Even half-hearted sex with her was enjoyable, and this had been better than that. But nothing compared to the mind-blowing, earth-shattering coition she had shown him when they had first met.

"Oh, but I'm not the only one," she said, rolling towards him. Her fingers traced the outline of his hip. "You're holding something back, too." Bucky sighed. It was a good thing they had done this before his confession. He doubted she would want to afterwards. He might as well get it over with. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I, ah…" He shifted uncomfortably. "While you were in the hospital, I, ah… well, it was really hard. Laura came over with food, and somehow…" He gestured helplessly. "We kissed." Nyssa was silent for a moment, her fingers still tracing patterns on his flank.

"And then what happened?" she asked, her tone calmer than he expected. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

"Then I told her I love my wife, and I sent her home," he concluded. Nyssa nodded slowly.

"I appreciate your honesty," she said meditatively. He waited a moment, sure there was another reaction to follow, but she merely leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, sweetly and briefly. He frowned.

"What, that's it?" he said in shock. All those weeks of agonizing over his slip-up seemed ridiculous in retrospect.

"I don't think a simple kiss is something to throw away a marriage over," she said levelly. "And I don't blame you for taking a bit of comfort where you could, given the circumstances." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"How long have you known about it?" he asked. One side of her mouth twitched upwards.

"Since shortly after I got home from the hospital," she admitted. "You've been a little preoccupied. It was hard not to pick up on it." Bucky closed his eyes, letting his head roll back on the pillow as he let his breath out slowly.

"I've been an idiot," he realized out loud. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was waiting to see if you would," she informed him. "Honestly, you keeping it from me hurt more than knowing you kissed her."

"Well, on that note," Bucky said hesitantly, "I have another confession to make." Nyssa glanced at him, surprise registering on her face for the first time.

"Oh?" she inquired. He nodded.

"After you left with the kids, I paid Marquis a visit," he admitted. "And I went armed." Nyssa's eyes widened, and her hand ceased its movement on his skin. Bucky shook his head. "I don't even really know what got into me. I was so sure the two of you were up to something." Nyssa's eyes widened, and he saw a hint of fear in her face. He put a reassuring hand on her arm. "Don't worry, I didn't hurt him. He told me why it was ridiculous to suspect the two of you. I truly had no idea."

"That he's gay, or that he has a bit of a thing for you?" Nyssa smirked. Relief and amusement chased each other across her face.

"Either," Bucky grunted. "So, now I get why you laughed. Of course, it just pissed me off at the time." Some of the amusement faded from Nyssa's expression, and she nodded seriously.

"We've both been pretty reactive lately," she observed. "But this is all just symptoms of the larger problem. I mean, you didn't believe me when I told you there was nothing going on, but you believed him."

"I'm sorry," Bucky groaned contritely. Nyssa shook her head.

"I'm not saying it because I'm mad at you about it," she clarified. "It just shows how far our trust has eroded."

"You have been different lately," he pointed out. "More closed off. I can't even feel where you are anymore." Nyssa sighed, and nodded.

"I've been really struggling," she admitted. "With a lot of things." Bucky nodded, recalling what he had picked up from her in the hospital. He reached out and captured her hand in his.

"I'm here," he reminded her. "We said no secrets between us, remember?" He had come clean. Now it was her turn. She nodded.

"I didn't want to burden you with it," she acknowledged. He sighed.

"That's what I'm here for," he assured her. "Whatever it is, I promise you I'm strong enough." Nyssa nodded.

"I've been keeping you out long enough," she agreed. She scooted into a half-sitting position, and took his right hand in both of hers. Bucky suddenly felt dizzy. The room around them swirled and flickered, then went black.


His senses returned a moment later, and he found himself standing on top of a grassy hill, gentle green waves undulating around him. The sky overhead was grey and overcast. He looked around in confusion, unsure where he was. He turned and finally spotted her, sitting on a hill to his left. As he drew closer, he realized the little knoll she was seated on was overlooking a clearing. The grass and flowers below were pockmarked with headstones.

"This isn't your happy place," he observed. She shook her head, looking down at the grass. She plucked a shy violet from among the blades.

"When we first met, I let you think that I was completely recovered, as if that's a process that ends. That I had everything all figured out. I'd say it's the only time I've ever deceived you," she disclosed. Bucky sat down beside her.

"I think we all do that when we're getting to know someone new," he observed. She nodded.

"Especially when we're falling for them already," she added, glancing at him with a sentimental smile. Here, she was not blind. She sighed. "You know, when I went to college, I chose psychology because I wanted to understand myself better. I needed to learn everything I could about emotions and trauma and how it effects the brain and the body because I knew that I was a mess. I thought, the more I understood it, the more I could control it, fix myself. And it did help. But it wasn't a cure-all. Sometimes, all that fancy education just means you know how much you're hurting everyone you care about when you fall back into those ego-driven, self-destructive behaviors. I was doing… really pretty well, for a long time, I think. But then S'lal happened, and our lives completely changed, and the Vruuxel attacked, and there was so much death, and I suddenly felt like I was unraveling. I was back to where I was fifteen years ago. " She took a deep breath and waved a hand at the graveyard spreading out before them. "But even when I've been at my best, I've never been to leave them behind." Bucky frowned slightly.

"Who are they?" he asked. Nyssa raised an eyebrow at him.

"You haven't figured it out already?" she asked lightly, then looked down. He looked out at the gravestones. He could only make names on the few closest to them: Philip Monterose, Madeline Monterose, Phoenix Jones, Landon Dyer, Reed Alden. He looked back at Nyssa, who ran a diffident hand down her abdomen. "Some of them died to save me. Some died because of me. Some of them I couldn't save. All of them died too young." She took a deep breath. "I've spent most of my life trying to prove I'm worthy of their sacrifices." Nyssa stood, gliding down the slope towards the grave markers. Bucky followed her. She paced contemplatively down the rows, her fingers grazing the tops as she passed them. At the edges, Bucky spotted Clint Barton's name, as well as Ignatius. One headstone had strange symbols engraved on it that he somehow understood as S'lal.

"You aren't responsible for their choices," he protested. He pointed at Clint's headstone. "Clint knew the risks when he signed up for the job. It's nobody's fault but the alien that pulled the trigger. He died a hero. And Ignatius, he made a choice. That's not on you."

"I knew what frame of mind he was in, and I still gave him that ring," Nyssa argued. "I had hoped being a hero would give him the hope to stay alive, but as things turned out… " She shrugged. "I might as well have given him a gun and some privacy." Bucky exhaled sharply, looking around at the tombstones.

"You can't possibly feel that you're responsible for all of these," he argued. "It's not like you shot them yourself." Nyssa gave him a significant look. "I mean, not all of them."

"I know intellectually that I'm not," she confirmed, tapping her temple. "But feeling it is different." She held her hand over her heart. "I've been trying to prove myself so long. Trying to feel worthy. And so, I invested all my time and energy into saving other people, often to my own detriment. I tried to ignore or minimize my physical limitations, even as my own body tried to get me to slow down." She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I mean, I went blind, and the first thing I did was figure out a way to convince people that I wasn't. If I don't stop trying to be the hero, if I don't stop fighting my own limitations and start working with my body rather than against it, I'm afraid it may actually kill me."

"It's been much too close already," Bucky observed. She flinched, looking away, but after a moment nodded her agreement. Her arms were wrapped around her torso as if trying to hold herself together. Bucky slipped behind her, snaking his arms around her and pulling her in close. She relaxed against him. "Let them go. They are resting peacefully; they don't need you to dig them up and drag them with you." She chuckled at his phrasing and tilted her head back against his chest.

"It's all a false hypothesis anyway; built on a flawed supposition," she sighed. "It doesn't matter how many nonprofit organizations I start, or victims I rescue, or despairing souls I save. I am one person. There's no way I could ever be worth all of them." She waved a hand at the rows of memorials around them.

"But you don't have to be all of them," Bucky insisted softly. "You're already enough. You've always been enough." Nyssa closed her eyes at his words, and he saw a tear trickle down her cheek. The sky over their heads rumbled, darkening, and he felt raindrops splatter on his exposed arms. Nyssa's shoulders began to shake, and she turned abruptly in his arms, burying her face in his chest. He held her as she wept against him. Rain fell in torrents around them, though somehow he was still dry. Gradually, her sobs diminished to ragged breaths. The rain slowed, then stopped. A gentle breeze stirred Bucky's hair, and the sky lightened as the sun glimmered between the parting clouds. Nyssa leaned back from his chest, red-rimmed eyes meeting his. He frowned slightly as he gently brushed the wetness from her cheeks. "Did I say something wrong?" She shook her head, her mouth curving upwards as a sound escaped her lips that started as a laugh but ended more like a sob.

"No, you said something poignantly, exactly right," she corrected him. "I just… I've needed to cry like that for months, and I've been fighting it." She ran a hand up his arm, tracing the muscles in the back of his shoulder and up to his neck. Her face tilted up towards his. "You were the first person who made me feel like I was enough. I've been pushing you away so long, I had forgotten how that felt."

"Well, allow me to remind you," Bucky murmured, bending low to kiss her thoroughly. She responded eagerly. When he finally released her, they were no longer in the graveyard. Instead, they were standing in a forest, with birds singing all around them. Not far away, gentle waves lapped against a pebbled shore. He recognized it as her happy place, though she had only invited him here a handful of times before. As he recalled, the ground was soft, and perfumed by tiny wildflowers. He lowered her gently to the mossy terrain, and proceeded to show her all the ways he adored her. Gone was the burning urgency from before. He worshiped her body with mouth and hands, moving instinctively in the ways and places that pleased her the most. She did not push him away or block him out this time, her sensations and reactions to him echoing back in his awareness. He had to pause occasionally as the intensity of her response became nearly overwhelming, but eagerly resumed after those moments passed. This was familiar, though not always comfortable; this intense intimacy of their spirits commingling as bodies and limbs entwined.


He awakened in their bed, still connected, Nyssa nestled in his arms, eyes still closed. Her face was wet here, too. He wiped these tears away, too. She opened her eyes, and he realized she was still crying.

"You okay?" he rumbled in concern. She smiled through her tears and nodded.

"More than okay," she whispered back. Her fingers traced his cheek affectionately. "I'm sorry. For shutting you out, for neglecting you… for almost dying on you three times…"

"Four times," he reminded her. She smiled sheepishly.

"Four," she amended. "But I promise you, things will be different now. I'll start seeing Christine again." She hadn't been to see her therapist since the twins had been born. "And I won't block you out anymore. When I'm having a hard time, I'll tell you."

"Good," Bucky grunted. "And for my part, I promise not to comfort any more widows." Nyssa chuckled and snuggled back into his chest.

"We really should start having those date nights we keep promising each other," she yawned sleepily. Bucky nodded.

"Yes, we should," he agreed. "Which reminds me. Don't make any plans for Friday night. Marquis is going to watch the kids, and I'm going to show you a night on the town." Nyssa peeked up at him disbelievingly.

"Are you telling me you went to Marquis' apartment intending to kill him, but ended up asking him to babysit instead? And he agreed?" Bucky nodded.

"Yeah. I'd say it was one of my more successful missions," he confirmed. Nyssa let out a huff of laughter, her breath warm against his skin. Her breathing evened and deepened, and he realized she was already soundly asleep.


Thanks to Qweb, DarylDixon'sLover, SomebodyWhoCares, karina001 and my lovely guest with the loaded newspaper for reading and reviewing. Also welcome to my new reader! I hope you're all enjoying the story.