Chapter 20: The Ward, the Word, and the Wyrd

Bucky checked his email expecting nothing but junk that his spam filter failed to sort out. Instead, he found a mysterious message from an address he didn't recognize. The subject line read, "Gravesen ward renaming." Puzzled, he opened the email.

Dear Mr. Barnes,

We here at Gravesen were deeply saddened to hear of the passing of Steve Rogers and are working to continue honoring his legacy by showing the videos he so generously created for the kids here. To ensure his connection to the ward remains permanent, we would like to name the pediatric residential ward after Mr. Rogers. Pending your approval, the new title would be "The Steven Grant Rogers Pediatric Residential Ward." There will be a small ceremony at a later date to unveil the new title in remembrance of Mr. Rogers. Please let us know if you approve of the renaming and whether you would like to attend the ceremony. Our sincerest condolences to you and your family,

Dr. Stan Lee

President of Gravesen Hospital

Bucky had to take a moment to digest everything he'd just read. Gravesen wanted to rename the pediatric residential ward after Steve. And have a ceremony about it. Not only that, but the President of Gravesen, Dr. Lee himself, reached out to him about it instead of delegating it to some secretary. He didn't know what to think.

Steve would've laughed, that much he knew. And blushed. The mere notion of attention and praise made him sheepish. At the same time, Bucky couldn't think of a more fitting name for the place Steve had called a second home for so long. His impact on the community there was already so profound, between the gauntlet, the videos, and the books, that the name was practically just for show. It was already Steve's ward, had been since he first set foot there, but now it would…be on a plaque or something. The whole thing was actually rather amusing. Bucky was all for it. However, he wasn't the only one they ought to get approval from. So he called Sarah.

"Hey Bucky, how are you? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just have to ask you and Joseph something."

"Hold on, let me get Joseph and put you on speaker." A brief silence. "Bucky's on the phone, he wants to speak to us. Okay, go ahead."

"I just got an email from Dr. Lee at Gravesen. They want to rename the pediatric residential ward after Steve, and they asked for my approval. I thought I'd see how you guys felt about it before I replied."

Silence, at first. Bucky figured they were processing the emotion of it. "That's wonderful," Sarah eventually said.

"Yeah," Joseph agreed. "That kind of recognition…means a lot."

"Do you think Steve would want it?" That was all that really mattered.

"I think he would take some convincing," Sarah said. "But he'd come around to see how much he really deserves it."

Bucky smiled. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Agreed," Joseph said. "Let's do it."

"Okay. I'll tell Dr. Lee. He said there will be a ceremony. I'll let you know when they tell me more about that."

"Okay. Wow, this is just amazing," Sarah said. "Thank you, Bucky, for bringing us into this."

"Of course." He couldn't imagine doing this without them. "Thank you."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Bucky took a deep breath. This was really happening. He wondered what Steve would think about it. He could guess based on what he knew about Steve, but he'd never know for sure. Bucky wrote Dr. Lee back saying he and Steve's parents approved. Hopefully, the other Avengers would be equally excited to see Steve receive this honor.

~0~

Thor always read the reviews after a ski tour. Most of the people didn't take the time to leave one; those that did generally fell into one of two categories: the extremely positive or the extremely negative. Luckily for him—or, possibly, a reflection of his likeability—the former was far more common than the latter. But he read the negative ones even though they hurt, because they let him know what he could do better. Thor tried not to take it personally. Some of the people he met he could tell just hated skiing altogether and merely took it out on him.

This review, though, this one angered him.

I could barely understand a word he said the entire trip, and sometimes he just spaced out. Frankly kinda dangerous in a setting like this; I don't know how a retarded person even got certified in the first place. I will definitely request a different guide if I ever come back.

Thor didn't even know which of his latest group had posted this; the review was anonymous. None of them had given any indication that they were struggling to understand him. He'd even said at the very beginning, as he always did, that he had a speech impediment and told them to just ask him to repeat himself if they missed anything. He also told them, for safety reasons, what Korg's job was and what to do if he approached them because Thor was having a seizure. That day had been particularly rough because he'd had a big seizure the day before and spent the whole tour with a raging headache and his every muscle sore beyond belief. On top of that, the group contained a mix of non-English-speaking Norwegians and monolingual Americans, so he'd had to say everything in both languages. His absences must've been more frequent than usual too, given the reviewer's description of his "spacing out." He'd considered cancelling the tour to give himself more time to recuperate, but didn't want to disappoint any of the people who signed up. He powered through for their sake, and this is how one of them chose to repay him.

Thor closed his laptop and sat on the floor to snuggle with Korg. His epilepsy didn't frustrate him as often as it used to, but this part he hated more than any of the physical symptoms. A person's first impression of him was the sight of his service dog, the sound of his voice, and—if they were lucky—an absence seizure while they were trying to talk to him. Some people managed to see past that, but others didn't, and it was just so frustrating sometimes. Thor certainly wasn't smart like Tony, Bruce, or Parker, but he wasn't stupid, either. He just had trouble getting the words out sometimes. It wasn't his fault that his brain misfired, but people assumed he was either dumb or rude, or…retarded, whatever that meant. Thor had never even seen that word before, but it sounded like an insult.

"Korg, you know 'm not stoh…stoo…soo…stoop…" Thor snapped his jaw shut and grunted. His frustration was only making it worse. Besides, he didn't need to ask. Korg knew he wasn't stupid. Thor decided that he needed a distraction so he didn't just sit and simmer in this anger for too long. Not just that, he needed to vent. He wanted someone else's reassurance that this review reflected on the person who wrote it, not on him. Loki, he knew was busy at rehearsal this time of day, so he double-checked the time difference and called Bruce instead.

"Hey, Thor. What's up?"

"'S been a bad deh…day. Ned—" Thor stopped talking abruptly to take a deep breath. Sometimes he wished long vowels would burn in Hel. Bruce didn't say anything, just waited for him to finish his thought. "Need someone to talk to."

"Is everything okay? Did you have a seizure?"

"A few dehs ago." He didn't even bother to correct himself this time. "Fine now."

"Okay. Then what's the matter?"

"A person in mah…my last ski group left…bad rev-ew…review."

"I'm so sorry. That sounds really disheartening."

"Yeah." Thor sent Bruce a screenshot and asked him to read it, just to be sure he wasn't overreacting. The other man actually sounded angry when he spoke up again.

"Thor, this is some of the most ableist bullshit I've ever read. That word…that's not a word that anybody should ever use."

"Which one?"

"The R word."

"I've ne-ver read it before."

"Good. I wish you'd be able to go your whole life without seeing or hearing it. It's a very offensive word, usually used to demean people with intellectual disabilities. The fact that this person used it makes them an asshole. This review should be taken down. Can you do that?"

"Have to ask boss."

"Do it."

"Okay."

Bruce must've detected the discouragement in Thor's voice. "Don't let this go to your head. Whoever wrote this is ignorant, and they have no idea what they're talking about. You're a great ski guide and a great person. Not your fault that some people can't see past things you can't control."

"Thanks, Bruce." He needed to hear that.

"…Thor, you back yet?"

Another damn absence. "Yeah. Sorry. Brain's still…off, after that sei-zure."

"No need to apologize. I just asked you when your next job is."

"Tomorrow."

"Are you excited?"

"Yeah. 'S a good route."

"Good. I'm afraid I hear Lanyon crying and it's my turn to get him up in the morning."

"Okay. Thanks again."

"Any time. And Thor? Don't ever let people like this make you forget how great you are."

"I won't. Thanks. Bye."

"Bye."

Thor thought that everybody deserved to have a friend like Bruce. Well, everyone except the person who wrote the review. He heaved himself to his feet and grabbed Korg's favorite toy. Tomorrow would be a better day.

~0~

This first scan wouldn't be able to determine the sex, but Wanda was already hoping for a boy. Despite her and Victor's conflicting name ideas, she'd always wanted to be a boy mom. Pietra too. They used to fantasize about one day living together and co-parenting each other's children. "I'll be the Uncle Jesse to your Danny Tanner," Pietra would say. "Because we both know that you're gonna be the one with your shit together and I'll be the one living in your attic."

That joke used to always make her laugh. Once upon a time, she longed to live that life. Nowadays, thinking about the family arrangement from that show frightened her. The only reason Uncle Jesse and Uncle Joey and everyone else lived in the house with Danny was because his wife died and he needed help looking after the kids. When Wanda imagined doing even a single second of this parenthood thing without Pietra or Victor, her heart skipped a beat and her thoughts ground to a halt.

"Wanda? You okay?"

Victor's voice snapped her out of it. She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. I'm fine. Excited to finally see this baby."

"Me too."

Wanda counted her breaths carefully through the first several minutes of the scan, her hand wrapped tightly in Victor's. Her doctor knew all about her history as a conjoined twin and had assured her that didn't make her any more likely to have conjoined twins of her own. Still, she worried about other health problems that could occur just by chance.

When Dr. Goodner said, "Oh," Wanda's grip on Victor's hand turned iron. Surprising the doctor was almost never a good sign.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Everything looks healthy," she assured.

Wanda looked to the screen to confirm, but she couldn't really make anything out except the vague outline of a baby. If everything was fine, why had she reacted like that? She pointed to the outline, then adjusted the position of the wand, then indicated…a second outline.

Victor put the pieces together before Wanda did. "There's two of them?"

"Yep. Here's baby number one." She moved back to the first position. "And baby number two."

"Twins," was the only word Wanda managed to produce.

"Yep. Two healthy babies."

She didn't know what to think. They told her that she wasn't more likely to have twins than anyone else. That didn't mean her chances were zero, clearly. "Are they identical?" she asked.

"There's really no way to know before they're born. I can't tell for sure from ultrasound alone if there's more than one placenta—identical twins usually share one, but with fraternal twins there's often two. Even then, there are exceptions. A DNA test after they're born is the only way to know for sure, if you're interested."

"Okay." Wanda definitely wanted to know. She thought that would be it, but she was woefully unprepared for the game-changer that this second baby proved to be. The appointment ended up lasting half an hour longer than she thought it would. Apparently, carrying multiples automatically classified her as high-risk. That was terrifying to hear, even though Dr. Goodner assured her they would monitor and manage any complications that arose.

Dr. Goodner explained that everything about this pregnancy would be amplified from a singleton birth: the number of appointments and scans, weight gain, fatigue and other pregnancy symptoms, prenatal vitamin dosages. They could also expect twins to come early, meaning they should start preparing sooner. She wasn't supposed to travel after the twenty-four-week mark, just in case. "What's the due date, approximately?" Victor asked.

"I'd say early September would be full term, but as I said they'll probably be a bit early."

Wanda was actually glad to hear that—assuming the babies would still be healthy despite early delivery. She'd get to meet them sooner than expected. Sure, the meantime would be twice as exhausting, but when that part was over, she'd be rewarded with twice the children. "Victor, we don't have to choose one name. We can each pick one."

"You're right. But I was going to let you choose anyway. You're the one doing all the hard work, after all."

"Not exactly. You're going to be the one to put together two cribs," she pointed out.

"Fair enough."

They left that appointment with a new horde of information on carrying multiples and, for Wanda, a new wave of emotions. What were the odds that she and Victor—two twins—would produce another set of twins? It almost seemed fated; two twins brought together by twin loss bringing two more twins into the world. For that same reason, it was also petrifying. She and Victor were both twinless twins. They'd both met countless others like them, some of whom lost their twins so early on they didn't even consciously remember them. The words "high-risk pregnancy" stuck in her brain despite Dr. Goodner's assurances. If something went wrong and one of these babies didn't make it out alive…it would destroy her. Wanda rested a hand over her belly and promised her unborn children that she'd do everything in her power to ensure that they never knew the pain of losing a twin.