It was an incessant question.

How are you doing? Really dear, how have you been?

Even after Bellamy had caught her mother up on the events of her life, it was as if she knew she weren't telling the entire truth. She managed to avoid it, but it seemed to add more weight every time she did so. Her mother never pushed, however, to her credit.

It wasn't until they were watching The Notebook together, and Bellamy was fighting ferocious tears, did her mother send her a gently inquiring look.

"You used to hate these movies. You couldn't stand them. I watched them alone, or, with Bronson if he wanted something." Bellamy chuckled a little. "But really, I'm a little shocked. You've become quite the baker, you're singing in the shower. You look different…and now, you're watching romance movies when before you wouldn't touch them with a five-foot pole."

Bellamy shrugged a bit, sipping the fresh brewed tea in a yellow cup. "You can't stay stagnant. At least I learned that before I turned 30." Her mother laughed to herself, readjusting the quilt on her lap that Bellamy used to hate. She thought it didn't match the décor, that when she moved out she would have a much more sophisticated living space. White coffee cups, not mismatched yellow and green ones.

She was exactly like her father, she had always been told. Her mother, she was almost nothing like. Free-spirited, an artist, easy-going, looked at the world through rose-tinted glasses. Spontaneous. But that was something else she was learning before she turned 30 too; maybe she did want to be like her mom.

It wasn't long before Bellamy couldn't fight it anymore, watching Allie read through all the missing letters from Noah. Naturally, of course, much like almost everything in her life, it only reminded her of one person. From the outside looking in, it seemed ridiculous. The concept seemed ridiculous, but only—she realized—if you had never been there.

"And now, tears." Her mother marveled, but moved to sit beside her and drape the quilt over her lap as well. Ellie cozied up next to Bellamy more, as if she could sense her distress, her brown eyes big and watching.

"Imagine that," Bellamy mumbled, unable to stop the quick rushing from her eyes. When she glanced to her mother, her eyes were concerned.

"Bellamy…I feel that you've been keeping something from me." Bellamy chuckled without humor. She looked down at her lap, swallowing the lump in her throat before she silently stood up and went to retrieve the most recent letter. Silently, she passed it to her mother as she rejoined her. She read the first line, and looked up curiously at Bellamy, before she continued reading.

When she finished, she looked up at Bellamy with wide bewildered eyes. "I…I don't understand."

"I fell in love, I suppose." Her mother looked back and forth, between the letter and Bellamy as she tried to piece together everything.

"That day…you called me and asked me what happened to your father and Bronson…you asked me how I forgave him. The…the Winter Soldier." Bellamy was nodding slowly.

She told her everything, from beginning to end, her mother's expressions going on a rollercoaster range of emotions before she merely stared at her silently.

"And so…you really fell for him." It wasn't so much of a question, just a heavy realization. Bellamy stared at her lap.

"I told him I loved him." Her mother looked up silently, her eyes landing on the necklace around her neck. "He told me he loved me too." Her mother's silence made her stomach turn uncomfortably. "And…and I know it doesn't seem r-right…considering everything…"

"Bellamy," her mother soothed, taking her hand and giving her a smile. "It's okay. I'm trying to understand, but it isn't up to me to understand. Love is the strongest force on this earth, now I really do believe that to be true. And we don't get to choose who we love. And on top of that, you're right; it wasn't his fault. If this is the man he really is and is on his way to finding…he sounds like a fine gentleman to me." Bellamy felt her eyes blurring again and snorted a bit.

"Yes. He really is. He never stops amazing me." Her mother pulled her closer to lean back together against the couch, her arm resting over her shoulders and rubbing her arm.

"What about him?"

"He really just wants to be better, better than he thinks he is. And he doesn't see already how good he is, it isn't good enough. Nobody else can understand, the bonding that we experienced. Readjusting, going out of our comfort zone, starting over. Healing. It went passed healing though, and somewhere along the way, it grew. We were growing, separately, you know?"

"And yet, still together." Her mother finished. "But now he's gone. And you really don't know if he'll be back, honey." Bellamy sighed.

"I know. And it's not up to me."

"I guess, what I mean is…is he worth waiting for?" It was her screaming heart that confirmed her thoughts.

"He is. I know he is. That's why I was able to let him go. But the real problem is doing nothing while he's gone, but wait." Her mother nodded.

"You were never the type to sit back and wait. But if you're staying with the Avenger's now, couldn't you—"

"I don't think I could ever be an Avenger, mom. I'm not that spectacular." Her mother scoffed, ready to protest. "It isn't a fit, it doesn't click. I don't know." Familiar arms pulled her closer.

"You will. You will, don't fret."

Bellamy awoke on the morning of her birthday to a cup of tea (after admitting coffee wasn't up her alley anymore) and a small neatly wrapped present from her mother.

It was a small notebook with a deep green leather cover. Her mother smiled at her.

"It's a journal. Of course, you can do whatever you'd like with it, but I just thought maybe journaling would help you keep your thoughts straight. Maybe you can even write out goals, little goals for your soul, not big Bellamy goals." Bellamy chuckled, but smiled thoughtfully at her mother.

"Someone else told me I should start writing." Her mother gave her a knowing look, no words, and a sweet smile. "Thank you, mom. I will."

Bellamy also gave herself time to read Flora's letter she had been waiting to open. As she unfolded a crisp paper, she realized there was still weight inside the envelope and looked inside.

There was a key.

To my sweetest Bellamy,

I absolutely believe people are brought into our life for a reason. I remember before we first spoke, I would sit and watch you watch other people. Smile at everyone. Listen to them. You were always such an aloof young woman, but so very kind. If I remember correctly, it took a good long while to really get to know you! And I feel that I still don't know the person you are, but I can make a guess.

In you, I can see the woman I wanted to be. Well-organized, a mapped out future, and a purpose that was larger than your own life that you devoted yourself to. I'm sure you are a very high-ranking person of importance at whatever you do, and successful, at that. I always wanted to be that. But, as I come to the end of my life, I'm realizing we don't have to live "one" life. We can be multiple people with different chapters.

So if I can offer you anything in the rest of your life, my angel, I would tell you to live multiple lives, and never hesitate when you know what your heart wants. It's always right. And perhaps when you're ready to truly settle down and live, you can do it, here.

There was an address listed, in the state of North Carolina. Bellamy's eyebrows furrowed as she reread the address line a few times, before looking back down to the key in her palm.

John and I don't have any use for this home anymore, as he is moving back to be with his family. It was once our dream home, and then our summer home, only then to be rented out. However, I would like nothing more than for you to have it and for it to be a safe-haven. A home.

I know we shared a love for humanity and its potential. In life, we are who we love. They are the ones who shape us. Thank you for warming up our world.

Forever yours until we meet again,

Flora

Bellamy stared down at the letter, unable to wrap her head around the fact that her life as of late seemed to be built around so many letters, of those who she cared for the most. Unable to fathom such great people held so much love for her. If she was anything, she realized, she was their love, and it made her more than enough.

With tearful words and the letter in hand, she told her mother of the lovely couple who had become like family to her, and their generous gift. Her mother's eyes shone as though she was not at all surprised that others loved Bellamy as she did.

The letter also reminded her to tell her mother how sorry she was for allowing time to keep them apart, and how much she loved her; she didn't want these words coming too late in the form of a letter, no matter how much those letters meant to her.

"You're going to see it, aren't you?" Bellamy's mother asked. Of course, that would be the logical thing, but her head still couldn't form logical thoughts.

"Eventually." She promised. "But I think, here is where I'm going to say for a bit longer." Her mother smiled, her dimples lighting her face.

Bellamy didn't count the days, she was under no obligation to.

Thanksgiving had a meaning again; her mother cooked for a family of four instead of the two of them. They gave the leftovers to the nearest neighbor who was her mother's close friend, Tamara.

Christmas came with care and the smell of pinecones and a real tree they decorated together while sipping eggnog.

Whenever she sat, bundled up, out on the porch with Ellie, drinking hot chocolate and listening to "Blue Christmas" playing faintly from the open window to the living room, her mother would join her and listen to her daydream of having Bucky around. How helpful he would be with the leaky sink in the guest bathroom, and how much he would love looking at the Christmas tree lights.

They would reminisce about past Christmases as a family, how Bronson and her father always tried to outdo the neighborhood with the Christmas lights outside, the time herself and Bronson were six and knocked over their tree when they were trying to shake the wrapped presents and figure out what they had gotten.

Maybe that was the main reason she hadn't been back. These stories, the names, their existence couldn't be avoided in the company of her mother. Never before after their deaths had she spoken so much about her brother and her father, reminisced so much, felt such a fond unconditional love warm her heart. Tony was right, she laughed when she realized it. These things had to be confronted.

Christmas with her mother was small, cozy, but full of love and much more of an event than it had ever been in recent memory. She received a new beautiful burgundy coat, and a painting her mother had painted herself, "for the new house." Bellamy gave her mother new art supplies and a new cook book, along with a framed photo of the two of them taken with her phone.

New Years passed quickly after that with cheese and wine. It was a week or two after that Bellamy parted ways with her mother. There were a few tears, kisses on the cheek, an exchange of "be careful," a promise to visit more or fly her out to meet the Avengers (she was fond of Steve).

Instead of heading back right away, however, she stopped off in North Carolina. Just outside Raleigh, seemingly in the middle of nowhere in a little town named Holly Springs was where the address took her. With only the company of wise oaks, was a tall and bright yellow house with white trim, well-kept and inviting with a wrap-around porch. Bellamy took the key and walked up the steps to the black double front doors.

Inside was already well-furnished with personal touches and customized features, hardwood floors, four bedrooms, and a grand back porch overlooking more trees. She looked around in amazement, unable to quite believe her circumstances. That this was her home.

She walked out to the back porch and looked around, taking a seat in one of the white rocking chairs. The silence without the honking, busy streets, and questionable smell soothed her soul and she took in a deep greedy breath, looking out at the open space before her before looking to the empty rocking chair beside her.

Her hand twirled the sapphire necklace she wore daily, and imagined Bucky rocking beside her, his hand holding hers, being soothed by the fresh air and sounds of birds.

After sitting for longer than she meant to, her mind somehow both peaceful static and hectic bustle, she locked up and left the house, looking back once before getting in the awaiting cab. Someday, she thought to herself with a small smile, her heart full and hopeful.

Another flight and then Bellamy was finally at the Avenger's tower once more, arriving late. When she entered, Tony was lounging on a chasse in the front room, working intently on some advanced tech device.

"Bellamy Burke has arrived." She heard J.A.R.V.I.S. announce and Tony's head snapped up.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." He said with a half-grin.

"We have a cat now?" Thor asked as he entered the room, giving Bellamy a casual wave but a bright beam. "Greetings, Bellamy. How was home?"

"Wonderful. I spent some time with my mother." Thor's eyes softened a bit and he nodded.

"Precious moments worthwhile, indeed. It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to be back. Where is…" She trailed off just as Steve came around the corner, followed by Natasha. Steve smiled, giving her a side hug as Natasha took the other side.

"Sorry we're late to the welcoming party." Nat smirked. "You sure have been missed around here."

"It hasn't been that long." Bellamy scoffed, but smiled warmly at all of them. "But it's been long enough."

That evening, in the early hours between night and morning, Bellamy sat with Steve on the roof as he drew. He gave her a brief rundown of what she had missed, but it wasn't until he stopped talking that she realized he had noticed her writing in her journal and was quietly observing.

"It was a gift." She explained. "I figured I would try my hand at…writing." Steve listened silently, his always encouraging presence allowing her to go on. "I don't really know what I'm doing, but, the possibilities are exhilarating. And kind of terrifying." Steve looked back down to his work in progress, now squinting thoughtfully.

"Sorta sounds like life. Especially the terrifying part." She chuckled a little.

"I like the possibilities part better."