Ascendancy

Epilogue

Dedicated to the man himself, George Mulroney. I would never have finished this without you, especially because I'm using this to ask you to pr... I mean what. Like it was "God's Plan", for Bucky and Ella to meet, I do believe it is "God's Plan" for us to go to prom together. George, may I have the honor, NAY the privilege, to have you as my date to prom?

It hurts. It's hurts so bad. The weight, the loss of an idea never truly formed. My mind can't understand it. But it loathes it all the same.

The old bruises are still burned onto my skin from the hours of doctors pricking me, stopping the blood loss, scanning my stomach. I'd already shed so many tears in my life, I couldn't fully process the ones that constantly were dripping down my face.

My mind is lost. The tears plaster hair to my face, and melt into my pillow until I'm drowning in my own salt. My stomach hurts from the sobs.

I lost my baby. The child, formed inside me, is dead. It's a life that will never even get the chance to live.

After we got back from the hospital I climbed into our bed and sobbed. Then day two came. And I woke up and cried more. Bucky stayed with me, and didn't move, his own tears swallowing mine in their ferocity. But they eventually stopped. Bucky has suffered unimaginable pain, and has grown a process of grief. Each time it's striked me, more of my heart is scorched.

Each time the tears stop, more come when I bring up the memories again and again. My head pounds. It's day twenty seven. And I still can't move on.

I finally pull myself out of bed. Find him. Find James.

But as I walk out of our yellow, sunshine filled room, my gaze lands on the door next to it in the hall. The nursery. And my body shudders again.

I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. How long must it take one to get over what feels like an imagined loss?

When I walk into out glowing white kitchen, I hear two voices. Bucky's baritone is saying, "It's been almost a month, and she still wakes up crying, and goes to bed without saying anything."

I see Bucky first, his face full of the concern it has nurtured for days. His neatly trimmed hair is ruffled. The face I don't expect next is the one that makes me want to start crying all over again: Steve. The furrow in his brow has deepened, but so have the crinkles around his eyes. His eternal empathy has remained unwavering.

"Steve, I can't... what are you doing here?" Standing in the doorway, I force my mouth to move.

"Bucky asked me to come."

I look at Bucky, my mind in awe. How had he gotten Steve here? Ever since Bucky took over as Captain America, training the New Avengers, and watching as they saved the world time and time again, we haven't seen Steve but twice. And now here he is, dunked into my worst days.

"I can't believe you're here." I walk into his open arms, swallowed by the warmth of his being.

His plaid shirt is warm against my cheek. Bucky speaks gently behind me, "Ella, we are having some guests over for dinner tonight so I picked up some food."

I turn back around. "What? Guests? But the house is disgusting. Why would we have someone over when Steve is here? If it's Peter, he should know-"

Bucky smiles, "Don't worry doll, Peter's keeping a, um, eye on the crew."

"So who's coming over then?"

///

The dining room is finally cleared of all papers, candles are lit, and fans roaring. Living in New York for so long has sensitized me to the heat; the slightest warmth and I run for the ceiling fan switch.