The Fall - Book 2

261. ‍ I might be breaking that promise, doll.

DECEMBER 28, 2020 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — BUCKY

"I know we're a smaller group, since Andrew and Trey are still in Idaho and Tennessee, Tony's visiting his in-laws, and Scott's on leave, but this one's urgent, so," Nat says. "Here's the breakdown: a group of scientists have been taken hostage by a branch of HYDRA; they're being held at what was thought to be a defunct facility in the Nether-Polar Urals. Vision, you and Rhodey will stay here, and be our mission control."

The two nod as Nat continues. "As for the rest of us, our job is to go in and rescue the hostages, then to remove any remaining tech from the facility's labs and place several charges. Once that's all done, we'll get out of Dodge and blow the place sky-high."

She pauses, looking around the table. "Any questions?"

When no one speaks up, Nat dismisses us. "Alright. We'll go over the finer details en route. We need to be wheels-up within the hour, so go pack and prep."

We all file out; I emerge from the room to see Réa still waiting in the lounge, Conall asleep in her arms. Without a word, she takes my hand, and blinks us to Conall's nursery. She lowers the crib rail and lays him on the mattress, then turns to me.

"I'll give you some time together," she whispers, kissing my cheek before exiting the room.

I watch my son sleep, taking in his serene expression, my heart swelling with love and with pride.

'He's incredible,' I think that thought for the umpteenth time. 'I can't believe he's my son...that I'm his dad.'

"I love you so much, Lupuleț."     (Little Wolf)

I sit with him for a few minutes more, committing every detail to memory. The knowledge that I have to leave him to go on this mission settles into my gut like a lead weight, and there's a catch in my chest.

"I'll be home soon, Conall Ignatius."

I rise from the ottoman and place a kiss to his forehead, then raise the crib rail. I quietly leave the nursery, stopping with my hand on the knob to murmur another 'I love you' to my sleeping son. When I enter my and Réa's bedroom, I see that my wife has already gotten my go bag from the closet, and has my mission suit all ready to go.

"I figured since there's only half-an-hour left until you have to go, I'd—"

Whatever she was going to say fades as a quiet sob slips from her. Immediately, I pull her to me, and she buries her head in my chest. I wrap my left arm around her and hold her close while my right hand strokes her hair.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles.

"No, sweetheart, don't apologize." I press a kiss to the top of her head, then place my finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to mine.

The sight of her tear-filled eyes causes something in my chest to constrict; the feeling intensifies when she speaks again.

"I heard the briefing, and I know that those people need help...but I don't want you to go. And I know that's selfish—"

"I don't want to go, either," I admit.

She nods, then lays her head on my shoulder, turning her face into the crook of my neck. Resting my cheek against her head, I feel her inhale, and I do the same; her sweet, spun-sugar-and-raspberry scent soothes a modicum of the anxiety that's roiling within me.

We stand together like this until the sound of my alarm pierces the air. "That's my ten-minute notification," I say, though I make no move to release my wife.

"Alright," she says after another long moment. "You turn that off and grab your stuff; I'll grab Ár Mac Tíre Beag and then we'll head out."

"Okay, doll."