The Fall - Book 2

259. I'm curious what you'd consider 'much'.

DECEMBER 25, 2020 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — RÉA

Bucky, Conall, and I have a wonderful Christmas morning.

Bucky and I wake up early and exchange our stockings, opting to do our big presents later; once Conall wakes, we show him his 'Santa present'—a plush otter with a soft, fabric book that's designed for tummy time—and the three of us spend some quiet time together as a unit before heading to the compound for breakfast and a gift exchange with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan.

We give my baby sister something called a 'jumperoo'...a supportive, harness-style seat in the middle of a removable activity centre filled with a shape-sorter and other toys. The one we got for her is food-truck themed, complete with a light-up steering wheel that plays music and makes sound effects. As soon as Pepper places her in the seat, Morgan begins jumping so much that Tony remarks that she looks like a caffeinated kangaroo. That comment earns laughs from me, Bucky, and Pepper, while Conall and Morgan respond to our laughter with wide, open-mouthed grins.

In true Tony and Pepper fashion, they have a lot of gifts for Conall; Pepper tells us that she tried to keep Tony from going overboard, but that she was barely able to rein herself in. They gift Conall a rainforest-themed play mat; lots of clothes, including a tiny leather jacket that looks like Bucky's dark blue mission jacket...the left sleeve even looks like Bucky's vibranium arm; a soft, snuggle-able otter that mimics breathing and plays soft, calming music; several plush baby blankets; and what turns out to be his favourite: a multi-stage infant chair with a small piano.

Tony places Conall into the seat in what he—and the box—call the 'kick and play' stage, and he looks absolutely delighted when his grandson kicks the piano keys and lets out a happy squeal. He continues kicking the five keys, babbling joyfully when he likes the combinations, and frowning slightly when he doesn't.

"Just like his mom," Bucky whispers to me, "musically inclined."

While the babies play, we exchange our own gifts.

"It's not much," I say as I hand Pepper a wrapped box.

"I'm sure it's wonderful, Réa," she replies.

When she opens the large, leather-bound book, she gasps.

"'A History of Our Family'," she reads aloud, then looks up at me with watery eyes. "I already know it's perfect."

She and Tony slowly flip through the pages that Bucky and I had worked together on. There are photos of Bucky, Howard, Steve, and the Howling Commandos, as well as newspaper clippings—well, photocopies of them—of their victories; photos of Howard and Maria, at their wedding and beyond, along with a copy of their wedding announcement; photos and mementos from Tony and Pepper's childhoods: baby pictures, copies of their birth announcements, photos or articles of them holding awards they'd won, graduation photos—high school and college—and copies of graduation announcements; photos of them together through the years; photos of them with me, with the team, with me and Bucky, with Morgan, with Conall; and handwritten captions and anecdotes, both by me, and by Bucky...plus plenty of blank pages to continue filling with memories.

"You two really knocked it out of the park," Tony says, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

"'Not much'...Réa, I'm curious what you'd consider 'much'," Pepper replies, laughing lightly even as she sniffles.

"Let me get your present," Tony says, rising from the couch.

He disappears into his office, returning with a large, brad-closure envelope which he hands to me. I open it, sliding out a stack of documents.