All Too Well

Incognito

The summer sun was streaming in through your bedroom window, the small hum of wildlife outside was like the most subtle but beautiful opera. Your eyes fluttered open, a shroud of calmness enveloping your senses. You were truly at peace. Just as you began to sit up, you heard a faint rustling outside your bedroom door.

"Mamaaaaaa!"

Your son burst through the bedroom door, a goofy grin plastered on his dimpled cheeks.

"Mamma! You're 'wake! I'm hungry!"

You laughed, stretching as you stood, your body not fully awake yet. You picked up your son, James, and made your way to the kitchen to prepare him breakfast.

It was now two years after the battle with Thanos, two years since Steve left, and two years since you left everything and everyone behind.

You lived off the grid in a small cottage in upstate New York, hidden away from the Avengers and anyone else who could jeopardize your son's safety. Well... not all of the Avengers. Sam and Bucky knew where you were, mostly for James' sake- he loved his Uncles. But for everyone else, you'd practically vanished, only communicating through infrequent letters. Your closest friends, besides Sam and Bucky, are Wanda and Nat. It was too hard for them to see you hurting so badly, especially in the beginning, so you never brought them into your home. You planned to invite them over eventually, but still you were anxious. You were terrified of any aspect of your old life finding you and corrupting the safe haven you built for your son.

Tony thought it was archaic, but humored you anyways, frequently sending gadgets he made for James to play with. Only once did it come with lasers... That was a long letter back. You kept a cell phone for emergencies, but it lived wholly untouched in a small box on your nightstand.

For the most part, it was just you and James. He reminded you so much of his father, at first bringing you so much pain, but now you cherish every reminder. Steve just wanted to find his own happiness, and now you had yours too. While you could never forgive Steve, if he loved Peggy even a sliver of the amount you loved him, and later James, you could at least understand why he left.

You named your child after Bucky; he was such an instrumental part of the life you now lived, and you knew how much it would mean for Steve, if he were there. Bucky understood your pain better than everyone because he lost Steve too, he knew how bad it hurt. He helped put you back together again, helped you find your safe-haven to raise James, he really was like the best friend you could have asked for. Bucky soothed your cries at night, held your hand when you were in labor for 48 hours and even spent many nights on your couch taking care of the baby so you could get some sleep.

Sam was suspicious for a while that you and Bucky might develop some feelings for each other but you both knew you were safe from anything of the sort; Bucky was more like your brother than anything else. In fact, you hadn't had any romance in the two years he left. You resigned yourself to the idea that everyone gets one great love of their life, and Steve was yours. You just weren't his.

You watched your son as he walked, his small feet tottling across the chilly wood floor. James looked like the most beautiful combination of Steve and yourself. He had your hair and eyes, but Steve's same goofy smile and definitely his appetite. The boy ate like he'd never been fed before.

Bruce initially wanted to test him and see what the effects of super-soldier parent DNA would have, but you said no. You wanted James free of that world entirely. Even still, you did watch with wonder as he grew.

Your miracle boy.

As you set James in his highchair, you searched around the small kitchen for his cheerios and started the coffee machine. A boy like him requires an abundance of energy. The comforting aromas of coffee with hints of chocolate and cinnamon filled the air, and immediately you felt more alert. You smiled, thinking about Pavlov and his famous dogs and you popped some milk in a small saucepan on the store to heat it up. The poor man's latte, you called it.