This Is Stella's Reality

July 29, 2015

Steve sat across from Bucky and I as we sat in the golden sunroom. There were scarcely any clouds in the sky, and I imagined Apollo's bright chariot racing across the sky to greet his silver-moon sister.

Blackberry jam stained our lips vibrant purple and wine only deepened the color. I grinned at Bucky's messy fingers as he tried to wipe away his breakfast.

Steve let out a soft huff of laughter. It was quiet among the three of us. Gentle conversation dotted the relative silence. The roll of ocean waves filled the air along with the hum of my magic absentmindedly doing chores.

I hadn't told Steve about my memories. It didn't feel right to do so yet. It was my secret with Bucky and Loki. Only they knew. Along with my father and presumably my mother.

The blackberries were sticky and thick in my throat. I stood, wiping my hands on a tablecloth. "I'm going to brew some tea," I said.

My magic was ahead of me, lighting a kettle and setting herbs out to steep. I lingered over my wall of draughts and ingredients.

Mint would be good. Lavender too. There's honey in the pantry. Oh maybe I could grab some, my finger bumped a phial, nearly knocking it to the ground.

Asphodel flower petals from the fields, to return something to normalcy. I stared at it for a while. My knuckles turned white from the force of my grip around the glass.

Those pink crushed petals looked an awful lot like that lavender. Steve wouldn't spot the difference. He wouldn't even question it.

My stomach churned at the idea. I wanted him back. This wouldn't hurt him. I could direct the magic to bring back what I wanted.

But magic was a double edged sword. Return something to normalcy. There was no way for me to decide what was normal for Steve. Was it more normal for him to love Peggy and want to be with her in his memories? Or was it more normal for him to want to be with Bucky and I?

Only the Fates knew, and I was no Fate.

Nearly reluctantly, I set the phial back on the shelf and steeped the tea. I busied myself in an attempt to distract my mind which kept wandering back to the shelf with that bottle of crushed petals.

No, I chanted in my head until I had no choice but to return to the sun room with the tray of tea cups and a kettle.

The boys were standing at the windows, and Bucky was pointing something out to Steve. I set the tray down and stood between them.

Bucky's free arm instinctively wrapped around me and pulled me into his side as he talked about wanting to build a gazebo just past the back gate of the garden.

I looked up to Steve. His eyes were cast down to me. They were gentle and kind, unlike I had seen them in a while. He smiled sweetly at me when our eyes met.

He looked as I remembered him. I didn't need to give him Asphodel. He was already himself.

My hand reached to loop through his elbow, and I slid from Bucky's arm, encouraging him to follow me. I pulled the boys outside and through the garden until we stood on the cliffside overlooking the ocean.

They stood on either side of me. Hesitantly, Steve's hand rose to let his fingers brush down my back. I leaned into his touch and sent my mind to Bucky's thoughts.

He's trying, I said.

There was a pause. I was worried he hadn't heard me, but finally, he answered. I know. I'm trying too, he admitted.

Bucky's fingers rose to meet Steve's. They both flinched at the contact, but I breathed calm thoughts into their heads.

Their fingers interlocked behind me, and I could feel their hearts beat a bit softer. The ebb and flow of their decades worth of memories pulled at my mind like the moon pulls ocean tides.