The Fall - Book 2

212. 'Captain America is my uncle'...

MAY 20, 2020 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — BUCKY

"So," I begin as Réa and I enter her suite, "I told Steve I'd drive us toni—" my sentence ends abruptly as she begins to cry quietly. In an instant, I'm in front of her, gently holding her face in my hands. "Doll, what's wrong?"

"Nat...she tried to hide it with her happiness, but I saw it. Just for a moment, I saw the pain in her eyes and I..." she chokes out. "She's happy for us...her response was genuine...and she's so full of sadness and longing that it taints everything." She sniffles. "And my...my heart hurts for her so badly."

She begins to sob, and I lift her into my arms, moving to the couch and settling her on my lap. Eventually, her crying ceases, and she speaks, her tone thick with tears.

"I could undo it," she whispers, and it takes me a few moments to understand what she means.

Unsure of what to say—and sensing that she has more words—I remain silent, simply nodding in acknowledgement.

"I could undo it, and I'm pretty certain she'd decline if I offered. And how would I offer anyway? 'Oh, hey, Nat, by the way, sorry it's taken me so long to say this, but I could undo what the Red Room did...want your uterus, ovaries, and tubes back?'. No." She pauses. "I've learned that just because I can change something doesn't mean that I should...sometimes I just have to remind myself of that lesson."

"You have such an incredible heart, Réa. You genuinely want to help others, and I'm proud of you for that." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "And I'm proud of you for realizing that sometimes, all you can do is want to help, and not actually do so."

"Thank you," she murmurs, then rests her head against my shoulder; we sit quietly for a few moments. "So, I'm guessing Steve's meeting us in the garage?"

"Yeah, doll."

"Can we watch The Office until it's time to go meet him?"

"Sure."

I turn on the show, picking up where we left off last time we watched—the episode where Michael plans the 'Fun Run'—and situate us so that I can rest my hands on her stomach, beneath the material of her shirt.

"The book said pregnant people tend to show between twelve and twenty weeks...I wonder when I'm going to have a bump. Because I've also read that slimmer people tend to show earlier, but still nothing." She lets out a short, quiet sigh, then a soft laugh. "Although I suppose I should be glad that all of my clothes still fit...."

She trails off, and we settle back into comfortable silence as we watch the show; occasionally, I gently brush my thumbs over her skin.

"I was thinking," I say after a few minutes, "about what you said about names, and having some ideas. I'd like to hear yours...and share mine. If you want."

"I'd like that." She sits up and faces me. "Why don't you go first?"

"I was going to say 'you go first'," I reply with a small grin. "Please?"

She nods. "Well, if you're right and our little one is a girl, I was thinking about maybe using our mothers' names, but not exactly? For instance, your mother's name—Winnifred—means 'friend of peace'. So, I thought maybe something like Síocháin or Paix—those mean 'peace' in Irish and French—or Cara—Irish for 'friend'. And my mother's name, Treasa, means 'strength'; Vi is Latin for that."

"Well, we're on the same wavelength there. I was going to say I like Treasa for a girl." Réa looks at me somewhat quizzically. "We've been over this, doll...I remember everything you say." She gives me a gentle smile, and I continue. "Although honestly, I like Cara Vi a lot...a lot. If I'm right, I'd like to name her that." I pause. "But if I'm wrong, and she is a he...what did you have in mind?"