Chapter 42: Carol May Weaver
Two weeks after entering the hospital, Steve's fever had broken, but his lung and liver functions were as low as they'd ever been. The doctors didn't know if it was worth the risk to put him through another round of strong antibiotics. While they might give his lungs a boost, they could also completely do in his other organs.
"If I don't do more…" Steve asked, "How long do I have?"
Bucky knew he was thinking only of Carol May when he asked that.
"Maybe a month," was the best estimate they could offer him. June sixth was five weeks away. That was cutting it awfully close. The doctors left to give them time to discuss.
Before Bucky could even get a word in, Steve pronounced, "I wanna go home."
Bucky had no intention of arguing with him either way. This was Steve's choice to make, and Bucky's duty to respect whatever that choice was. "If that's what you want."
"Home," he reiterated.
That wasn't as easy to arrange as it sounded. Steve could barely stand for thirty seconds without gasping for air, much less walk around a room. He couldn't shower or shave on his own—Bucky had been helping him with the latter over the past two weeks, but he couldn't help with everything. One, Steve refused to let him, and two, one arm wasn't really enough to maneuver another person. In other words, they weren't going to be able to manage at home without help.
His parents both offered to come and stay with them, but Steve immediately denounced that idea. He was too stubborn and too proud to allow his parents to take care of him at twenty-seven years old. Bucky couldn't blame him. The hospital gave them a list of hospice nurses that did home visits, and Steve looked at it for all of twenty seconds before he found one he wanted.
Margaret Carter.
"Oh yeah. Remember when we visited Gravesen, and Nurse Heimdall told us she retrained as a hospice nurse?"
He nodded. Bucky knew he was her favorite of the pediatric residential ward nurses at Gravesen, and it was almost too perfect that she was available to care for him now as an adult. Bucky wondered how she would react to learning a former patient of hers was now on death's door. She'd probably be honored that he chose her for this position, of all the names on that list. Before they could go, they had to order a bunch of equipment to keep Steve alive and comfortable at home, including a BiPAP machine, CPT cups, a nebulizer, and a wheelchair.
They left the hospital on their fifth anniversary. Steve slept the whole way home. Packing up to leave the hospital exhausted him, even though Bucky and the Rogers did most of the actual work. He didn't even wake when they pulled into the driveway, nor when Joseph picked him up like a toddler and carried him into the house. Steve was almost as tall as his dad, but he was so skinny the man was able to carry him easily. Bucky helped tuck him into bed and Sarah switched out the oxygen cannula for BiPAP. If he didn't have it on, he'd wake up gasping within an hour of falling asleep, and Bucky wanted him to rest as long as he needed to. The Rogers helped him clean the house and unpack all the stuff that had accumulated in the hospital room.
Bucky found he couldn't escape crisis mode. Steve was out of the hospital; this was the new normal, yet he still felt jittery and frantic. It would probably take a while for him to readjust after two weeks of literal chaos. Hopefully, Peggy's first visit tomorrow would help him calm down. The Rogers didn't leave until Steve woke up and was able to tell them goodbye in return.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Bucky asked when they were finally alone.
Steve shook his head. "Too gummed up. CPT first?"
They hadn't sent them home with any prescribed frequency of chest physio, just as needed when Steve felt mucus buildup. Bucky set up the Albuterol and grabbed the percussion cup. Over the next twenty minutes, he worked Steve's lungs from bottom to top. It was exhausting for both of them, but Steve still managed to eat afterwards. Bucky couldn't wait for Peggy to start working. He could already tell there was no way he'd ever be able to do this by himself.
After putting it off for the past two weeks, he finally got around to telling Lamberg that he was taking a longer leave of absence. He'd never be able to focus on soccer with Steve like this, and he needed to be here with him for the next month, or however long he had left. Bucky intended to go back to soccer at some point, but he had no idea how long he would need. Much to his relief, Coach was completely sympathetic.
"There will always be a place for you on this team," he assured. "Take as much time as you need."
Once again, Bucky was beyond grateful for the incredible people he and Steve had surrounded themselves with. And he thought that yet again when Peggy arrived for the first time. Steve hugged her like Bucky had never seen him hug anyone before. His choice of nurse made even more sense now that Bucky observed how at ease he appeared with her there. She'd represented care and comfort for him since he was a young child. Those kinds of impressions tended to stick with a person. Even Bucky felt himself relax at the sound of her voice, even though he'd only known her for nine months of his life.
"She's perfect," Steve told him after her first visit. "I never thought I'd be able to let anyone help me so personally without resenting them. She doesn't make me feel anything but trust."
"That's great," Bucky told him. Relief washed over him so heavily he thought he might drown in it. He knew Steve wouldn't take easily to being in this kind of situation, and if finding the right nurse made it less horrible for him, then Bucky owed Peggy another thank-you on top of the dozen he'd already offered.
~0~
Steve was so glad to be home. He didn't mind the hospital back when it was Gravesen and his friends were there, but here he'd been alone but for nurses and occasional visitors, and of course his parents and Bucky. But watching Bucky tear himself apart over the course of those two miserable weeks hurt him more than the pneumonia did. Now that they were home, they were both more comfortable.
Peggy was a godsend. Steve had only been completely reliant on other people a few times in his life. The first few years, like everyone else, it had been his parents. And those last few months before transplant, his parents had once again taken care of him. After transplant it had been those nurses helping him do everything most young men did by themselves without even thinking about it. And now, it was Peggy.
Steve should be embarrassed that he couldn't even shower on his own. Well, not actually, because it wasn't his fault, but he felt like he probably would have been embarrassed if it were anyone else who had to help him make up for where his body failed. Her hands were gentle and her voice firm, not patronizing in the way that some nurses chose to speak to their patients. There was no nonsense with her, either. She got her job done in as much time as she needed to do it well, no more and no less. Steve didn't really have the breath to make conversation, so she kept her questions to yes or no or one-word answers. Steve knew that having her around would make this last month as bearable as it could possibly be.
Steve didn't know what to do with his rare waking hours. It seemed like he should be trying to do something with this time he had left, but he never felt well enough to do more than maybe sit in the living room instead of staying in bed all day. His chest hurt as if a metal band were constantly tightening around it, and even on oxygen he clearly wasn't getting enough because his head constantly ached and a fuzziness lingered on the edges of his vision. Waiting for Carol May would have to be enough, because he couldn't possibly do anything else.
Beyond Peggy, they had apparently acquired a squad of volunteers to help around the house, so Bucky didn't have to worry about it. He saw their neighbor Mr. Hodge mowing their lawn through the window. Josiah and a rotating group of Bucky's teammates cleaned their house every week. Tony was up here every Sunday to bring a few days' worth of meals and do laundry. Jim and Timmy also stopped by with food sometimes, and whenever they did they offered to go shopping for them to restock on anything they might need in the house. His parents and Bucky's came up every Saturday, also with food in tow. Steve couldn't help but feel bad that they were all spending so much of their time and effort on him, but at the same time he knew he would've done the same for them. God, he loved their friends.
Bucky spent Steve's every waking moment by his side, except for those Steve spent with Peggy during the morning and evening. He slept beside him too, when he did sleep. The remote monitoring system wasn't enough for him anymore; he wanted to be right there in case something happened. They didn't really talk most of the time, just existed together. Steve didn't have the breath to spare, and they didn't need words to understand each other. But sometimes, Bucky would ask something, usually something incredibly deep. One day he asked Steve's opinions on the afterlife. His answers always took a long time to deliver because he had to pause to cough or catch his breath, but Bucky never rushed him.
"I think I do. I've seen Carol in my dreams twice now, and both times she seemed to come from somewhere."
Another time, he just wanted to know how Steve felt. "Seriously, with no embellishment to make me feel better."
"I've had a headache for going on three weeks now. Probably in osteoporosis territory now because my joints hurt. Or maybe that's just from not using them. Lungs are full of cement. Every breath I take I have to forcibly wrench in, and it's exhausting. But with you here, I don't think about all that."
It got harder and harder to ignore, though. Ever since the pneumonia, he'd had to fight for every breath. But now, each one took so much out of him that he feared he wouldn't even have the strength for another. He'd never been more terrified in his life. Carol May wasn't due for another two weeks, and when he did the math and counted how many breaths he'd need to take to make it to then…it scared him. He asked Peggy every day if she thought he would make it, but she never gave him a real answer. All he ever got were maybes. But a maybe wasn't a no, and he would fight for what may be until he made it happen.
~0~
Steve had been death rattling for two days. Peggy confirmed with sorrow in her eyes that that's what the awful sound emanating from his chest with every breath was. Bucky was out of his mind with worry. It wasn't even June yet. At this rate, Steve wasn't going to make it to D-day. And he knew that. Even this close to the end, his mind was as sharp as ever, and he understood that he didn't have long. He could only stay awake a few hours a day, and Bucky hadn't gotten him to eat more than a few spoonfuls of broth in the past week. They both anxiously awaited word from Parker and MJ.
Practically every hour, Bucky checked his phone for a message from Parker, Tony, the Weavers, or anyone who might know anything about the situation. Most of the time, he was disappointed. Until he wasn't.
Late Friday night, May twenty-eighth, the message appeared in the Avengers group chat: "MJ's water broke. Will update when I can."
Bucky raced into Steve's room and gently woke him up. "Steve, Steve," he urged. "She's coming. The baby's coming."
Through the haze of exhaustion and illness, his eyes lit up. Bucky kissed him on the forehead. Just hang on a little longer he silently begged. He turned to leave, planning to brush his teeth and change clothes before going to sleep in his spot beside Steve. Before he could get anywhere, Steve reached out a hand and clasped his wrist. The message was clear. Don't go. So Bucky stayed. Steve drifted back to sleep, but Bucky remained awake, glued to his phone and waiting for updates. He wasn't the only one. The group chat was abuzz. Tony mainly drove the conversation, which made sense since he was closest to Parker.
Naturally, they eventually drifted to asking about Steve. Bucky hadn't told them about the death rattle or Peggy's estimates. Steve didn't want any forced last visits with anyone except Bucky and the Weavers, if that ended up being possible. He told the Avengers the most he dared hope for, which was that Steve might meet her.
Parker texted only one update, when they were admitted to the hospital a few hours after her water broke. They didn't hear anything else all night long. Late Saturday morning, he reported she'd been in labor for several hours and they were making good progress. That was all he heard until Saturday evening, during Peggy's visit.
"Carol May Weaver. 5-29. 6lbs 8oz." Moments later, another text popped up beneath it: a picture of Parker and MJ's beautiful baby girl. He itched to show Steve, but had to wait until Peggy finished helping him in the bathroom. In the meantime, Bucky bounced his knee eagerly and continued to stare at the photo. She had Parker's eyes, the same eyes that would've come from his late parents. Bucky almost cried imagining how thrilled Parker must be.
"What are you looking at?" Peggy's voice startled him out of his joyful reverie. He glanced up as she wheeled Steve into the room and helped him transfer back to the bed. Bucky grinned in anticipation of sharing this news.
"Carol May Weaver."
Steve's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He reached out a hand for the phone. Bucky slid in next to him and offered him the phone with the picture already displayed full-screen. While Steve took it in, Bucky wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his still-wet hair. Even if he didn't get to meet her in person, at least he had this. Bucky still hoped they'd make it up here before Steve succumbed, but he tried to keep his expectations realistic.
"She's beautiful," Steve uttered.
"May I see her before I go?" Peggy asked.
"Of course," Bucky said. She'd cared for Parker too, naturally she'd want to see his daughter. Steve reluctantly relinquished his grip on the phone so Bucky could show Peggy the picture.
"She's named after Carol? Our Carol?"
Bucky nodded. "The one and only."
"That's beautiful." She grabbed her bag from the back of a kitchen chair and headed for the door. "Good night, boys."
"Good night," Bucky called back. Steve gave a feeble wave. He turned to Bucky with an all-too-familiar look in his eyes. The one that proclaimed he had a mission to accomplish and wouldn't quit until he'd done so.
"I'm going…to meet her," he declared.
"Okay." Bucky wished he shared that confidence, but the rattle and wheeze sounding from Steve's lungs ensured he continued to fear the worst.
Steve drifted off to sleep not long after. Bucky didn't. He hadn't slept through the night since Steve permanently relocated to the guest room, waking up periodically just to walk in and check Steve's breathing. He hadn't slept at all in the past week, too worried about what might happen during his absence from the waking world. By now, he was running on caffeine and willpower alone.
All night, he alternated between staring at Steve and staring at the picture of Carol. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Tony texted him, "You up?"
"Yes," Bucky replied instantly.
"Did Parker send you the picture?"
"Yes. Amazing."
"Yeah."
"Were you at the hospital?" he asked. Not wanting to wake Steve, he couldn't use voice-to-text, so it took him a while to type it out with one thumb.
"No."
"Why not?"
"It didn't feel right. To be there when you guys can't."
"Steve would understand. She's just as much your niece as ours. Probably more."
"I know, but it still didn't feel right. I'll get to meet the little munchkin soon. How's Steve?"
Bucky glanced at his husband's sleeping form and focused on the labored rise and fall of his chest. "Determined to meet this baby," he wrote back.
"I'll bet."
The three dots indicating Tony was typing appeared and disappeared several times before his next message finally sent.
"Do you think he'll make it?"
Bucky sighed. "Maybe."
"Okay."
"Have you talked to Parker?"
"No. He hasn't left MJ's side. I talked to Alex and Russell, though."
"How are they?"
"Excited to be Grandad and Grandaddell."
A smile crept onto his face. It disappeared when he thought about all the eager cries of, "Uncle Steve!" that he'd never get to hear.
