Chapter 41: I'll Go Home

The next week brought with it plenty of highs and lows. Some nights, Steve didn't sleep at all between discomfort, fever, and nurses coming in almost every hour to take readings and adjust medications and things. Bucky didn't sleep a wink any night, even though the Rogers sent him home for eight hours every other day. Parker came to visit on day five, but Steve insisted that Bucky leave the room for the duration of their conversation together. When he returned, Parker was gone, and Steve cradled a red, white, and blue teddy bear in his free arm.

"He have a name?" Bucky had asked.

"Liberty," Steve informed him. But when Bucky asked why he chose that name, Steve refused to tell him, insisting it was a secret between him and Parker. Bucky couldn't tell if he was serious or just being cryptic for the fun of it.

Now at the one-week mark, halfway through his course of antibiotics, they still weren't sure when—or if—Steve might be able to go home. His x-rays did look better, but he'd grown weaker. Bucky could feel during CPT that his coughs didn't have the same strength behind them. As long as he was awake, he could manage without the BiPAP, but only at an O2 flow rate higher than any he'd used since before transplant. Bucky only hoped this second week would prove easier than the first.

~0~

"Steve, you're probably the most stubborn person I know," Parker told him. He'd kicked Bucky out both so he could have a private conversation with Parker and in the hopes he'd use the time to eat or nap or something. Steve knew he wasn't taking proper care of himself. Though he wished things were different, he couldn't blame him. Whenever Steve imagined what would happen if their roles were reversed, he knew he'd probably be even more of a mess than Bucky was right now. Parker continued, "I hope you're doing this because you want to, and not because of me."

"I want to," Steve assured him.

"Okay." Parker nervously rubbed his right hand over his left upper arm. "I just don't want to see you in unnecessary pain. We'd all understand if you were ready to…to go home."

"Are you asking me to die?"

"No! No, no, not at all. I only meant that I value your quality of life and I don't expect you to sacrifice it for me and my daughter."

"Not sacrificing anything." A coughing fit forced him to pause. "My home's still on this side, and I'm not leaving until I meet her."

"I thought you might say that," Parker said. "We're all rooting for you. MJ picked this out; she thought you might like it." He reached into his bag and pulled out a red, white, and blue teddy bear. Steve accepted it with a wry smile. His friends were always trying to foist more patriotic stuff on him. This one he would accept without making fun of it.

"Thank you. I love it."

"It doesn't have a name yet, so you can call it whatever you want."

"Liberty," he said immediately. It fit the appearance of the bear, and the occasion for which it was gifted. "Because I'm getting out of here," he avowed.

Parker clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."

Two days after that visit, he was clinging to that spirit with everything he had. Steve wasn't going down without a fight, but he could feel his fight going down. As week one bled into week two in the hospital, he began to dream about Carol, Clint, and Scott every time he fell asleep. He wondered if this was his subconscious telling him to give up. Would it really be so bad if he never got to meet Parker's daughter? She wouldn't remember it anyway, so what was the point?

I'm not doing this for her, Steve reminded himself. Parker had given him permission to let go before meeting her, and Bucky had promised him nothing except that he'd fight by his side as long as Steve needed him there. Before his transplant, he'd fought to continue for his parents and for Bucky. He'd fought for Parker, for Tony, for Jim, Timmy, and Gabe, for every kid who ever set foot in Gravesen. But for once in his life, he wasn't fighting for anyone else. Steve wanted to meet Carol May Weaver, wanted it more than anything. He was fighting for his own desire to see and feel her with his own eyes and hands. It was probably the first selfish thing he'd ever done in his life, and he didn't regret a moment of it.

June sixth. He just had to make it to June sixth, or maybe sooner if Carol May chose to come early. Steve hoped that was the case, just not so early that it meant something was wrong. She was due on D-day, which he found rather humorous. Such a key moment in a historical war. For him, June sixth would probably precede the end of the war. As much as Steve abhorred the idea of leaving behind all his loved ones and abandoning all certainty of watching their children grow up, he had to admit he did like the sound of that. "I'll make it to D-day, then I'll go home," he told himself.

~0~

Steve was thinking, Bucky could tell. He could see it on his face and the intention with which he held the teddy bear against his side. Bucky didn't even know if he was asleep or merely awake and resting, but his pensiveness was undeniable. What was he thinking about? He hoped it was something pleasant.

His phone started ringing. The sudden noise startled him, and he dashed out of the room so as not to rouse Steve from much-needed rest. He glanced down at the name on the screen: Mr. Hodge. Bucky knew their neighbor's first name—it was Gilmore—but he kept him in his contacts as Mr. Hodge because he'd never once called the man Gilmore. He was a high school teacher; he was probably more used to answering to Mr. Hodge anyway. Bucky wondered why he called. Hopefully their house wasn't on fire. He hadn't been since the last time the Rogers forced him the day before yesterday.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bucky," Mr. Hodge began. He sounded hesitant. Maybe their house really was on fire. Just what Bucky needed right now.

He tried to sound casual, but there was no disguising the sleep-deprived hoarse rattle in his voice. "What's up?"

"Your, uh…your grass is getting really long," he began. Bucky nearly swore under his breath. He'd thought Mr. Hodge was a nice guy, but he called to complain about the length of their grass? He wanted to scream, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and opened his mouth to calmly explain why they couldn't prioritize lawn maintenance at the moment. However, before he could begin speaking, Mr. Hodge continued, "And I haven't seen you around the neighborhood lately, so I just wanted to call and make sure everything's okay?"

Bucky's furious train of thought ground to a halt. Mr. Hodge wasn't complaining, he was checking in. The considerateness of the action instantly lifted his spirits. "Thank you for calling. I, uh…I'm sorry about the grass, I just haven't really had the mental capacity to think about it. You see, Steve's in the hospital." Mr. Hodge had been to their house before, so he'd seen the sign in the window about one of them being immunocompromised, but they'd never actually told him about Steve's CF and transplant, even after the incident in his driveway. Steve hadn't wanted everyone around him to know he was dying and treat him as such.

"Oh my God, is everything okay?"

"Well, it's complicated." Bucky figured there was no reason to keep it a secret now. "He has cystic fibrosis, a genetic disease—"

Mr. Hodge cut him off before he could explain the condition. "I'm familiar. I teach biology, remember? CF is our go-to example for teaching inheritance patterns of recessive autosomal diseases."

"Oh, ok. He had a lung transplant a while ago, but chronic rejection set in a few years ago. The doctors gave him three to five years. It hasn't even been three yet, but now he's got pneumonia and…it might be too much for him." Describing it so succinctly really hammered home the desperation of the situation.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea. I can't even imagine. Is there anything I can do?"

Bucky didn't even know what to do with such a generous and unspecific offer.

"Do you want me to mow your lawn for you?" Mr. Hodge pressed.

That, he could answer. "Yes please. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, of course. I can do it every week. My lawn is pretty small and doesn't take that long, and you're only two doors down. It's the least I can do."

Bucky's heart soared. They barely knew Mr. Hodge, only exchanged polite greetings when they saw each other around the neighborhood, yet he still offered his services in a time of need. "Thank you," Bucky repeated, because he didn't know what else to say.

"You're welcome. And I'm serious, anything you need, just shoot me a text and I'll be there. I wish you two the best."

"Thank you so much."

Mr. Hodge hung up, and Bucky wanted to collapse with relief. He couldn't be more grateful to have one less thing to worry about.

~0~

Steve's liver, already damaged from years of intense antibiotics, started to decline again under the onslaught of this dosage. And three days from the end of the course, he developed pleurisy again. This time, it was even worse, and they switched out the needle in his back for a cannula that would stay in overnight to continuously drain fluid. He didn't sleep at all that night. Bucky stayed up with him, holding his hand and meeting his eyes whenever they opened. Steve couldn't speak, but those eyes told Bucky everything he needed to know. "I'm so exhausted it hurts but there's no way through this except to endure, and I'm glad you're here to endure it with me." Bucky only wished he could bear some of it in Steve's stead.

More visitors paraded through that second week. Everyone who'd wanted to come as soon as they'd heard about the pneumonia but couldn't work their way here until now. Nick. Maria and Monica. Natasha. Steve Danvers. Bruce. Wanda. During her visit, she shared another amazing piece of news, easily as exciting as that of Carol May. Bucky had no idea if she'd even intended to tell them, but when Steve asked about the ring on her finger, she'd had no choice. He'd been expecting her and Victor to get engaged for a while now.

"When's the wedding?" Bucky asked.

"Actually, we…we eloped," she told them. "Neither of us wanted a big fuss. A wedding just wasn't something we wanted to do without Pietra and Simon."

Bucky totally understood. He was already shivering thinking of all the future celebrations he'd have to endure without Steve. A wedding without your sibling? Without your twin? Sounded like it could be more pain than it was worth. But he was immensely glad that didn't stop them from getting married in the way that felt right for them.

"Congratulations," Steve said.

"Yeah, I'm really happy for you guys," Bucky added.

Wanda smiled. "Thanks. When I tell people that I'm always worried they'll be disappointed."

"Disappointed? No way. Wanda, this is about you and Victor. Nobody else."

"Yeah, I know." Then she added with a laugh, "When I told my babka, her only reaction was to ask when I'm giving her grandchildren."

"Pushy," Steve remarked.

Wanda waved him off. "It's a Jewish grandmother thing. Hopefully she'll live long enough for that to happen."

"So this is not an engagement, marriage, and pregnancy announcement?" Bucky confirmed.

"Heavens no." She looked embarrassed at the mere suggestion. "We may have only been engaged a few months, but we're not rushing into that."

"Okay. That's great. I guess Carol May is going to be the eldest cousin." Bucky bit back a comment about Bruce's child being second oldest. God, keeping secrets from his husband was so hard.

"I guess she is." Wanda gave no indication that she knew anything about any other babies. Either she wasn't among the people Bruce and Betty had told (unlikely) or she was way better at keeping secrets than Tony.

"Fitting," Steve said. He coughed painfully. Bucky's chest seized in sympathy.

"Yeah, I really think it is. Tasha and I are already planning all the girls' weekends we're gonna take her on when she's old enough." She trailed off on the last words of the comment, as if worried she'd come across as insensitive talking about a future Steve wouldn't get to see.

Steve only smiled. "I'm sure she'll love that."

"Any kid born into this family is going to find themselves spoiled rotten," Bucky said.

"Especially with Tony around," Steve added.

When Wanda left, she did so without acknowledging the precariousness of the situation. Bucky appreciated it more than he could even articulate. It was growing exhausting hearing people scramble for "last words." He much preferred just chatting aimlessly about whatever was relevant in their lives, because it distracted him from all the shit going on in his. Steve clearly agreed.

"I love our friends," he told Bucky.

"Yeah, me too."

~0~

Steve met Death again that night. "Wait, what?" he asked himself as soon as he saw the looming purple figure across an apocalyptic wasteland. How could he be this close to death again? He'd been fine last night. Well, not exactly fine. His chest throbbed and his throat ached and his limbs felt encased in lead and a low oxygen headache dulled his every sense, but he wasn't actively dying. Hopefully this one was just a dream and not whatever in-between his previous vision of Death had been.

He looked around to more thoroughly assess his surroundings. He was alone. Death was not. Hordes of monsters surrounded him, snarling and pacing waiting for the command to attack. He didn't understand why they hadn't already swarmed across the field and swamped him. What were they waiting for?

Steve despaired. Even if this was merely a regular dream, he didn't think he'd escape unscathed if the entire army attacked him. He knew that defying Death was his battle to fight, but Bucky had promised he'd fight it alongside him. So where was he?

Across the way, Death raised his sword. It wasn't just a call to formation, nor a display of pure military might. He raised his sword and leveled it right at Steve's chest. Though no contact was made, his skin began to burn, as if Death's attention branded him for slaughter. Steve knew he didn't have much longer before the army advanced. Tonight, he might've been fine, but even if this didn't do him in, something else would. And soon.

He didn't want to be alone. Vast swaths of empty field surrounded him on all sides but for Death's army before him. Steve shivered. He didn't want to be alone. The isolation and Death's beady glare wore him down until he collapsed to his knees. There was no way. No way he could make even the lamest of stands against such a formidable force. Even in this moment of profound weakness, Death made no move to advance. He just stood there. Waiting.

Steve turned his gaze to the ground before him, too exhausted to continue contemplating the sheer size of the army across the field. He looked back up when he heard the distinct thwip of a bowstring. A lone figure stood in the middle of the field, between Steve and the immoveable force of Death. The single arrow flew from the figure in a soaring arc, landing with a solid thump in the ground by Steve's feet.

Steve's gut burned and he smelled ozone. Golden light bathed the entire landscape and the red and blue blur from his previous Death-defying dream rocketed from the sky towards the lone figure on the field. Another blur, this one silver, shot across the ground from behind Death's army, kicking up dirt and debris on its way to the group assembling before Steve. A fourth figure joined them, this one seemingly springing into existence beside the archer. Steve watched them, entranced. They didn't attack. At least, he hoped they weren't attacking as they sped towards him. The four figures stopped only a few meters away and congealed into more tangible forms. Steve had already suspected, but now that he could make out their faces, he knew.

The smallest among them shot Steve a boyish grin and nodded his head towards the empty expanse behind Steve. He turned to look and saw nothing. When he turned back, the four figures had vanished. Steve soon learned why.

Orange sparks flickered to life behind him and swirled until they spun in a circle as tall as he, and Bucky emerged. While the four figures appeared as ethereally radiant versions of themselves, Bucky looked exactly as he did in real life: strong and beautiful. His arrival set off a chain reaction. More flickering orange circles appeared all around. People poured from them, almost quicker than Steve could count. Tony. Parker. Thor. Bruce. A slew of Gravesen doctors and nurses. Wanda. Nick. Natasha. His parents. Monica. Steve. Maria. Jim. Timmy. Gabe. The Barnes. Kate. The Bartons. The Langs. Josiah and the rest of the soccer team. Even their neighbor Mr Hodge. Bucky led the massive group, now equal in size to the forces across the field, to stand beside Steve.

He wasn't alone anymore.

Death retreated.

Yes, I threw in another MCU scene-based dream sequence. This moment was too iconic not to adapt.