The Meaning of Infinity

Things were very, very hectic with half the world population suddenly returning to life. Even being bedridden in the hospital for a month and a half wasn’t enough to completely shelter someone from the frantic cleanup that occurred. The peace following the battle barely lasted a week- after that, people were running wild, filtering in and out of Wakanda seemingly at random as it became the makeshift home base for the Avengers (and their company) as they helped to rebuild the world. That only lasted so long, though- as well-suited as Wakanda was to these things, it was far out of the way of a lot of important people the Avengers were dealing with- eventually, it made more sense to go back to the States. 

“Mr. Stark says they’re moving you back this weekend.”

Carrie looked up from her novel, tilting her head at Peter, who was curled in an armchair in the corner of the hospital room. He had moved it from the waiting area a couple weeks back, and had been spending his days, for the most part, parked atop it since Carrie had awoken. 

If anything could have physically broken her heart, Carrie thought it would have been the absolutely wrecked expression on Peter’s face the first night he had been allowed to visit her- like Tony, he had barely let go of her hand for a second, staring over her as if afraid she might disappear. But somehow, Peter had been even harder for her to reason with than Tony had been. 

“Peter,” she had whispered, as the young boy’s eyes had begun to drift closed and his head lull forward with exhaustion, “ Why don’t you go off to bed? ”

He had blinked back up at her, eyes widening to keep himself awake, and frowned. His grip on her hand had tightened. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I thought you were going to die.” 

She supposed she couldn’t blame him. And, secretly, maybe she was grateful. She had spent five years thinking Peter was lost forever, after all, and now she was filled with a soft, creeping sort of desperation- to keep him close, to make sure it could never happen again. And, she thought, with some amount of guilt- at least when she thought Peter had died, it had been quick and absolute. In contrast, he had been waiting in the room outside the medbay for a week and a half, not sure if she would live or if she’d die- and it hadn’t looked too hopeful. 

Shuri had explained to Carrie after the initial shock of her waking had worn off, in the midst of running tests and trying to figure out what kind of food Carrie might be able to handle, what had really happened. Twelve days didn’t sound like much, but any amount of time spent in a coma felt like too much, in Carrie’s opinion- and it only felt like more after she was informed of how many times, exactly, her heart had stopped during those twelve days. 

“So you’re going home?” Carrie guessed, sliding her bookmark between the pages of her novel to focus on Peter. She smiled, encouraging. “I bet your aunt is waiting for you, right? And you can go say hi to Will for me, since Tony probably isn’t going to let me see the outside of a hospital room for another year.”

If Peter thought the joke was funny, he didn’t show it. His poor attempt at faking a smile only resulted in an odd kind of grimace, and he shrunk in on himself slightly. 

“Uhm- she… no, my aunt’s not waiting,” he whispered, when it became clear from Carrie’s concerned expression that his facade wasn’t going to hold. Carrie’s eyes widened, and she sat up straighter in the hospital bed. 

“What?” she asked, her voice tight. “I thought Tony reached out for you? Have you still not gotten to call her? I told him he needed to remember to-”

“No! No, he didn’t forget, he- Mr. Stark remembered,” Peter cut her off, his voice slightly strained. “She, uhm. She passed away, apparently. A couple of years ago.” 

Dread curled in Carrie’s stomach. She reached out her arm instinctively to him only to draw back and switch hands as she caught sight of her dead, gray fingers. He hesitated for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath, before he set aside his own book and moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed next to her. She immediately pulled him toward her, hugging him with her good arm and rubbing her thumb soothingly over his shoulder. She tucked his head beneath his chin, humming a soft sound of recognition as he tensed and tried to maintain his composure. 

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice slightly panicked. One of his arms moved to wrap around her torso, the other clasping around her destroyed wrist. She clung to him even tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m going to figure everything out for you, me and Tony will, okay? Don’t worry about a thing. Just focus on yourself,” she assured him, and when Peter sniffled softly against his collar, the wetness of a couple tears hitting her skin, she felt absolutely wrecked with guilt. 

“You’re still hurt,” he protested, his voice cracking. “You need to rest.” Carrie let out a soft, hurt noise, shaking her head firmly and clutching his shoulder like a lifeline. 

“Spidey, no,” she protested. “Please. I’m okay. I’m alive. I’ve been resting. You rest, now.”

They stayed curled up like that for a long time. However long it took for someone else to crack open the door, coming in to check on them. Carrie met Bruce’s eyes over the top of Peter’s head, and he stared at them, a worried expression coming over his face. Carrie shook her head softly, her lips moving to tell him we’re okay without actually speaking. He nodded, and hesitated for a moment before he stepped back out of the room, mouthing back, I’ll come back later. 

It was only after the door clicked softly shut again that Peter took a deep breath, pulling back from her and glancing at the door. He picked himself up, setting Carrie’s book and his own on the nightstand before he moved to sit at the end of the bed, facing her, wiping slightly at his face. 

“He’s going to send Mr. Stark in here,” Peter mumbled. Even if he hadn't looked up to see who was there, his enhanced hearing could discern these things. Carrie cracked a small, sad smile. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He knows Tony is worried about you.” 

“And you ,” Peter reminded her. She rolled her eyes. 

“Tony isn’t worried about me. He’s feeling guilty,” she reached out toward the nightstand, fidgeting with the two books for a moment until they were aligned as perfectly as they could be. Then, she aligned them with the corner of the tabletop. 

Peter watched her carefully. For a boy who had just been crying into the collar of his shirt, he suddenly looked very concerned. 

“Mr. Stark wouldn’t tell me how you became part of the team,” he said finally, the words falling away from him clumsily. Carrie’s eyes snapped away from her pointless task, meeting his own.

“You already know how,” she said carefully. “You were the one that called me.” 

Peter’s mouth settled into a thin line. 

“Your heart is beating faster,” he accused. Carrie frowned, hunching slightly.

“It’s not fair that you can do that,” she accused back. Peter waited. After a minute had passed, Carrie seemed to gather her thoughts, and she sighed, leaning against the raised back of the hospital bed. She crossed her arms. 

“You know how I used to always make you tell me about your patrols?” she hedged, eyeing him carefully. Peter nodded slowly. “And you know why, right?”

Peter’s lips twitched downward, but he nodded. 

“So you could tell me when I was in over my head,” he grumbled, his voice cautious and slightly bitter. Carrie bit back a smile. 

“Even though you never seemed to think you were,” she joked. Peter rolled his eyes. “Well, I got in over mine.”

Peter glanced back up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I did what you asked- went to fight Thanos. We lost. Obviously,” she sighed. “And then I just went back to my life. Helped Will with the pizza place, whatever.”

“I already know that,” Peter protested, and Carrie shot him a look.

“Uh-huh. But, ” she stressed, silently scolding him for his impatience, “my involvement in that battle obviously drew some attention.”

“So, what? They just invited you to join?” Peter asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Then why wouldn’t Mr. Stark tell me that?”

“It… wasn’t exactly an invitation,” Carrie mumbled, wincing slightly. She was almost afraid to admit to Peter that she was a regular law-breaker, since she knew how he could get about his sense of justice, but she knew it was better not to outright lie. “I… was sort of…”

“Miss Greenwall here is a white-collar criminal.”

Both Carrie and Peter glanced up. Tony stood leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. He wasn’t smiling- but there was humor in his voice. He pushed off the doorframe, moving to settle into Peter’s armchair. “Hey, kid. Kid,” he greeted, nodding first at Peter, then at Carrie.

“I’m not a kid,” Carrie huffed automatically. “I’m thirty.” Tony smiled. 

“A white-collar criminal?” Peter repeated incredulously, ignoring their little back and forth. Carrie winced.

“It was only insider trading,” she defended, and Peter let out an affronted, sort of shocked noise. “And you shouldn’t complain! I spend that money on you all the time!” she rushed out. Tony snorted. 

“You were rich!? ” Peter squeaked. "I thought you were like me! You work at a pizza place!" Tony laughed fully at that, his eyes crinkling slightly.

“I- yes, I was rich,” Carrie grumbled out, flushing slightly red. "I never claimed I wasn't! Plus, you knew I had other jobs."

“She’s still rich,” Tony clarified. Carrie glared at him. “You know, I wasn’t going to tell him about this. I figured you didn’t want him to know.”

“I don’t care if he knows,” Carrie scoffed. “I don’t lie to Peter.” 

The mood sombered slightly at that- it sounded almost accusatory, thought there was nothing specific Carrie was accusing him of. 

“Right,” Tony said slowly. “Well, what I mean is, that’s not why I came in here.”

“Did Dr. Banner send you?” Peter sighed, his voice slightly annoyed. Tony shrugged. 

“ Dr. Banner told me I should tell you guys the weekend plans soon,” he said easily. Whether or not he had told Tony about Peter crying went unmentioned. “So, here I am.” 

“Oh, yeah. Peter told me we’re going home?”

“We are,” Tony confirmed. Most of the team had already gone home- in fact, Peter, Tony, Carrie, and Bruce were mostly the only people left in Wakanda. Bucky was still there, although that had more to do with his fondness for the country, where, Bruce had informed Carrie, he had spent a lot of time after all of the Avenger’s infighting a few years back. He hadn’t come to see Carrie- not that she expected him to. They didn’t really know each other in the first place, after all. Even if other random Avengers had stopped by, if only to introduce themselves and maybe thank her for taking on the snap (to which she vehemently claimed that no thanks was necessary), he never had. 

“I’m taking Peter back tomorrow,” he informed Carrie. She nodded in understanding, and Tony kept speaking, cutting Peter off as he began to protest. “Barnes is going to take you on the quinjet on Sunday.”

“Why can’t she go with us?” Peter interjected, frowning. Carrie nudged him with her toe from under the blanket, shooting him a look. 

“Because we have things to take care of,” he informed Peter blandly, staring him down. “And Greenwall is still injured.” 

“Hey, hey, wait,” Carrie was the one to interrupt now, her brow furrowing. “You don’t have things to take care of without me. I’m not letting you set up Peter’s life on your own without asking him what he wants.”

Tony blinked in surprise. He stared at her for a few moments, leaning back in his chair. 

“I wasn’t going to,” he finally said, his voice slightly softer. He might have sounded a bit hurt, but it wasn’t like Carrie’s accusation was baseless- after all, Tony had set up her life in the same fashion. And honestly, Tony probably would have gotten carried away making sure little things were taken care of without bothering to ask Peter about all of them- Probably without even thinking of it. 

“Then what do you two need to do that’s too strenuous for me to help with?” she huffed, her brow knitting with disbelief. Tony faltered slightly. 

“I... thought he could go hang out with that friend of his for a bit,” he admits. “He’s been blowing up Happy’s phone since he unsnapped.” 

“Ned was snapped, too?” Peter asked quickly, his eyes wide. Carrie’s gaze flicked back to him, taking in the hopeful expression on his face. “And he’s alright?”

“He’s fine,” Tony assured Peter. “Leaving just as many voicemails as you do, apparently. You guys are quite the pair.”

"...Alright,” Carrie cut in quickly. She seemed to relax her posture slightly. “Take him back. It would be cruel to leave Ned hanging,” she added softly as Peter looked up at her, concerned. “Is Bruce going with you?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, looking almost apologetic. “Sorry to shove you with Barnes by yourself- but there’s a lot of stuff that needs doing state-side, now that everyone is back. And we have Ross knocking down our door.” 

“...right,” Carrie sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not helping more. I could-”

“Nope,” Tony said immediately. He pulled himself out of the armchair, coming over to the foot of the bed and clapping his hand on Peter’s shoulder. He tilted his head to the door, and Peter stood, unfolding his legs to follow him out while shooting a weary glance back at Carrie. She smiled at him, waving him off. “You’re not doing anything. I- we- ” he corrected, his hands on Peter’s shoulders, “will wait for you to get back to… figure things out.”

Peter ducked his head slightly, and Carrie’s smile faltered.

“Have fun with Ned, Spider-kid,” she called softly, and Peter nodded, glancing back up before Tony towed him out of the room. 

***

“I just don’t know what to do, Bruce. He’s a kid still,” Carrie sighed. Against the stern commands of several people, including Tony and Shuri, she was out of bed, sitting on the counter of the guest suite’s small kitchen where Bruce was currently cooking them dinner. Out of everybody, he was the only person who had caved in to her frequent pleading that she just wanted to be out of bed already. Even though she really was alright enough to handle it, nobody wanted to take any chances.

“He’s about to go back out there and face an entirely different world,” she continued, fidgeting her nerve-dead fingers between the ones on her other hand. “Hell, I’m scared to face the new world, and I’ve only been stuck here for, what, a month? He has five years to catch up on. And now he doesn’t even have his Aunt, I just- ugh, I should have been looking out for her, I should have- I could have helped her with the bills while she was sick or something, or had her come to stay at my apartment, or, or-”

Bruce sighed, pushing away from the stovetop and turning toward the countertop she was sitting on. He splayed one oversized hand over the top of her head, cutting her off and grabbing her attention. 

“Stop stressing yourself out. Or I’ll make you go get back in bed,” Bruce said, his voice soft and careful. Carrie’s lips twisted downward, and he sighed, his hand falling from the crown of her head to cup her cheek. 

“How did we ever save the world without you?” he mumbled. His voice was more tender than he had intended it to be, and he faltered slightly when Carrie glanced up at him, surprised. “You just- you always do the right thing, alright? Peter is going to be fine. He- he has you.”

Carrie’s eyes watered slightly. For a moment, Bruce panicked- but the feeling lessened as he realized Carrie was smiling, ducking her head slightly against his hand to hide her expression. 

“I always do the right thing, huh?” she laughed. A slow, hesitant smile came over Bruce’s face to match her own. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Bruce’s hand fell away from Carrie’s face, startled. She peered over his wide shoulder. In the doorway of the kitchen, the man with the metal arm- Bucky, people had told her- was leaning, staring at them. She met his eyes, blinking owlishly for a moment.

“I thought she was supposed to be on bedrest,” he continued, when it was clear Bruce and Carrie weren’t going to speak first. He pushed into the room, peering over the stovetop at what Bruce had been cooking. He stirred it slightly, to stop it from burning. 

“ She can hear you,” Carrie prodded, leaning to peer over Bruce’s other shoulder as Bucky moved around behind him. 

“Great, then,” Bucky replied, his voice dry. “Tell her how excited I am to babysit her tomorrow.”

Bruce’s eyebrow knit and he turned around to defend Carrie, but she beat him to it, her own face settling into an expression of annoyance. 

“Always with the ‘babysitting.’ Seriously, you’ve been back a month, and they’ve already got you on that rhetoric? I’m an inmate, not a kid,” she joked bitterly. Bruce frowned. 

“You’re well past being a prisoner, ” he denied, reaching out a hand again, this time to fold over Carrie’s bad hand. She tugged it away, eyeing him wearily. Obviously, she didn’t quite agree.

“Seriously?” Bucky laughed from behind him, his eyes glinting as he watched the interaction take place. “She’s allowed to leave, is that what you’re telling me? Because Romanoff said-”

“Of course I can’t leave,” Carrie cut him off. She pushed herself off the counter, side-stepping around Bruce before he could reach for her. She rooted around in the fridge, pulling out a random piece of fruit she didn’t know the name of before turning toward the door. “But I don’t see why you would find that funny.” 

Bucky sobered instantly, his expression falling flat as he watched her leave. Bruce whirled on him once she was out of earshot. 

“What?” he tried, shrugging stiffly. “She’s the one who took it personal.”

“Have you always been an asshole, and I just forgot?” Bruce huffed. Despite his size, Bucky didn’t seem intimidated. 

“Is this dinner for everyone? Or just you and your live-in girlfriend?” Bucky snapped back.

“It’s not for you ,” Bruce replied quickly. Bucky snorted. 

“Think she still wants to eat with you?” he pressed, leaning smugly up toward Bruce’s face. “ Does she see you as a warden, or a man? Or maybe just as Hulk?”

“I don’t care what she sees me as,” Bruce defended. Bucky raised an eyebrow, skeptical. 

“Sure you don’t. You know, I’ve been hearing some very interesting stories from Steve.”

“Steve has only known her for a year,” Bruce interjected, but Bucky just moved past him, peering into the fridge and beginning to pull out ingredients for his own dinner. 

“But Steve knows Tony, who’s known her for five,” Bucky said, shutting him down. “Did you always like Legally Blonde, or do you only watch it five times a year now because you’re watching it with her? ”

“I really don’t know what your problem is,” Bruce spat. Bucky shoved some of the clutter from Bruce’s cooking to the side to make room for his own. “Did you just come in here to make everyone else feel worse about themselves? You could have just called your therapist.” 

“My problem is that I don’t like her, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s absolutely no reason she should have been added to the team.” 

“Well, don’t take that out on her,” Bruce snapped back. “It’s not like it was her choice.” 

“Uh-huh. I bet you're glad,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. Bruce blinked at him, frowning. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. Bucky glanced up at him through his hair, then focused back on the vegetables he had begun chopping. When Bruce just kept staring at him, he grunted in frustration, pushing past him to take Bruce’s own pan off the stove where the food had begun burning. He scraped the food off into the waiting bowl, and shoved it into Bruce’s hands. 

“It’s not your fault, right?” he said, smiling sardonically up at Bruce. “You only defended her choice in the matter… How many times? Zero? I bet you love having her in the tower all the time. Finally, someone who can’t avoid you, huh?” 

Bruce’s stomach sank. Even if he knew Bucky was just being an asshole, lashing out in his own hurt and confusion at how much had changed while he was gone, it was hard to ignore the barbed-wire feeling that he had a point. Really, that was the thing Bruce had always hated about Bucky. He always had a point. 

He let himself be turned around and steered toward the door, his bowl of stir-fry clutched in his hands. He let himself walk away after, even without the firm grip of Bucky’s metal arm on his shoulder. He made his way back to the guest room he was staying in, slumping into the chair there and beginning to eat without really thinking. It was burnt. 

***

When Carrie stumbled back into the kitchen, looking exhausted and clutching the same fruit she had taken with her earlier, which remained uneaten, Bucky looked up from where he was just finishing up cooking his own meal and snorted. 

“Had some trouble with that?” 

“Yes.” Carrie grumbled. She took the thing over to the cutting board, fished into the drawers until she found a knife, and began trying to pry it into the tough skin of the fruit. 

“Woah, woah,” Bucky huffed, taking his pan off the burner and turning it off before he stepped forward, pulling the knife from her hands and taking her place in front of the cutting board. She stepped to the side, glaring at him. “You look like you’re going to chop off your own finger. Go sit down.”

She stood around for a moment, but when it was clear he wasn’t going to budge, she did as he said and slid into one of the stools at the kitchen island. Only when she had moved away from the cutting board did he move the knife, beginning to cut the fruit open with a practiced ease. He sliced off the stem, then cut the fruit into long quarters before slicing out the pit in the middle. Then, he wedged the knife under the edge of the rind, separating it from the flesh on each quarter. He moved to his own pan of sauteed chicken and broccoli, put it out onto a plate, and then rinsed the pan before he put it back on the stovetop, throwing the slices of the fruit into it. 

“You don’t eat breadfruit raw,” he said, glancing back at her only to be met with an exhausted glare. “You should’ve just let Banner cook for you. You look horrible.” 

“You’re so right,” Carrie deadpanned, glaring back at him. “I wonder why I didn’t.” 

“Because I said you’re a prisoner?” he snorted. “You are one , so I don’t see why it pissed you off so much. What, were you hoping something would change after you tried to sacrifice yourself? That why you did it?”

“Yeah, right. I know better,” she snapped, not allowing herself to take any more offense to his words than she already was to his general presence. “Usually nobody rubs it in my face, but I guess not everybody can be civilized.”

“Sorry,” he sneered back. “I’ll sugarcoat everything for you from now on. How does that sound, pizzeria girl?” 

At this, Carrie actually cracked half a smile, narrowing her eyes up at him.

“Huh. I haven’t worked at that pizzeria in five years, now, you know.” 

Bucky faltered slightly, averting his eyes back to the cooking breadfruit.

“I know,” he said defensively. “I’m not stupid just because I wasn’t here. I know time passed.” 

Carrie’s eyes narrowed further. 

“You realize that’s not my fault, right?” she snickered. “Just because I joined during your missing time doesn’t mean I’m the reason you missed out on it.” 

Bucky sighed. He deposited the slightly blackened slices of fruit onto a plate, shoving it across the counter in her direction. 

“Steve said you were funny, but he didn’t tell me you were obnoxious, ” Bucky spat. Carrie picked up one of the fruit slices, taking a tentative bite and humming at the unique flavor before she swallowed, peering at it curiously. 

“Tastes like bread,” she mused. 

“It’s breadfruit .” Bucky snapped back. She grinned. 

“Steve told me you were obnoxious, but he never mentioned funny,” she chirped. Bucky felt his eye twitch.

Even though he looked thoroughly annoyed- practically angry- Bucky didn’t take his own plate out of the room. He settled into one of the stools across from Carrie, beginning to eat as she picked at the breadfruit. They sat there in silence for a while, the only noise the clinking of his fork against his plate and the breadfruit tearing as her teeth sank through it. 

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” 

Carrie finally spoke up again after she finished the last bite of her fruit, peering at Bucky over her folded elbows. Bucky glanced up at her from under his brow, his expression set. 

“You were right. I’m still a prisoner,” she amended as his look seemed to insist that she elaborate. “It’s not like I’ll just suddenly be free.” 

“So you’re complacent,” he huffed, his lips pressing together. “You went through all that, and you’re not even going to try to bargain yourself out? That’s just pathetic.” 

Carrie raised an eyebrow. “That’s rich. Weren’t you just mocking me for sacrificing myself to earn my freedom? Which is it, I’m pathetic for hoping, or I’m pathetic for giving in? Besides,  aren’t you complacent, too?” 

Bucky paused. Even after so much time, he couldn’t get used to other people knowing all about his past and the way it had been resolved. He stared down at his plate for a moment, his fork hovering over a piece of broccoli he had been on his way to stabbing through. His lips twitched downward. 

“No,” he finally answered. “It’s not the same.” 

***

“William.”

The quinjet ride was silent for the first hour, until finally, Carrie had grown tired of sitting in the hull across from Bucky and stewing in their combined annoyance. She hauled herself up, trudging instead to the cockpit of the jet and collapsing into one of the seats there. The thing was on autopilot, so it wasn’t like either of them actually needed to fly it. Still, that didn’t mean Bucky had to sit with her, Carrie thought. And he had probably only done it to be a nuisance anyway. 

Now, she was on a call with Will. Due to the lacking function in her left hand and right fingertips, she had it on speakerphone (at a low volume), propped on her shoulder near her ear. She hadn’t had access to her phone since the battle, and had only gotten it back because Shuri had returned her (tattered) clothes from the fight before she had left with Bucky. It had been in one of her pockets, and was mostly unscathed, although one corner was a bit mottled. Since she hadn’t contacted him in a while, there had been an insane amount of texts and missed calls. She didn’t bother to read them, instead just unlocking the thing and ringing him right away.

“I’m sorry! You can’t blame me for freaking out,” William protested. “You just told me you… well, I don’t even know. You didn’t die, I guess-”

“Just end it there. I didn’t die,” Carrie grumbled. William continued. 

“ But you kind of did, too,” he sighed, his voice weak. “You’ve really gotta stop doing that.” 

“That’s not what’s important here,” Carrie brushed him off, ignoring the noise of protest from the phone as she continued. “What’s important is I’m coming home and you’d better come see me when I get there.” 

“I’m not allowed in the tower, I thought.”

“Who cares?” Carrie sighed. She felt a bit of exhaustion creep over her, and slumped further in the seat. “I just saved Stark’s life. Probably half of all life, ever. I mean, I didn’t do it by myself, obviously. But I think they at least owe me visitation rights.” 

“Seriously, Greenwall,” he sighed into the receiver. He sounded a bit exhausted, too. Well, that was the kind of weariness that came with things like this. “I can’t believe it was you. People were saying it was Captain America before the press conference.” 

“Press conference?” Carrie interrupted him, brows furrowing together. From the hull behind her, she could hear Bucky moving around. “What press conference?”

“Stark’s press conference,” he replied, sounding a bit confused that she didn’t know what he was talking about. “He held it yesterday night. It was about you, and, you know, everything.”

“Fuck,” Carrie hissed. Her eyes widened slightly, and she dragged her phone off her shoulder to clatter into her lap, clumsily flipping it over and turning up the volume so she could still hear William. She unlocked it, beginning to tap slowly into the search bar. “ That’s why he went back early. I should’ve known it wasn’t because of Ned-”

“Ned? The kid’s friend?” Will asked, even more confused. Carrie shushed him, pulling up a transcript from the press conference and skimming through it. 

T STARK: Questions first- You all know me, I like to work backwards. Yes, you- uh, green glasses?

Q: Are the Avengers responsible for bringing the people back?

T STARK: Yes. Easy answer. Well, we had some outside help this time. Big battle, big guns. Uh… you, yellow polo. 

Q: Is it true that Captain America sacrificed himself to save the people?

T STARK: What? Who the hell said anything about that?

Q: People have been speculating based on his lack of appearance in relief efforts and official-

T STARK: Yeah, no. Steve’s alive. He’s just tired. Probably (re)tired, if you catch my drift, but. Oh, I’m not supposed to talk about that? Whoops. Well-

Q: Stark! Here!

T STARK: Rude. Go. 

Q: Is it true that the newest member of the Avengers, Carrie Greenwall, who is commonly referred to by the moniker “The Denominator,” was a casualty in this battle, which would have been her first official mission? Do you regret your choice to put a mutant lacking longevity of training into such an important fight, and how will you take responsibility for the outcome?

T STARK: Damn, lady. That packs a punch. Well… [Stark sits down on the edge of the stage].

T STARK: It wasn’t really a choice. The battle broke out impromptu, and we were already on the field when it did. Carrie- the Denominator- [He smiles.] She hates that name, by the way. I forget who published it, the first time. She was furious it stuck. Well…

T STARK: She threw herself into the battle just as furiously as the rest of us. And when reinforcements came, she backed them up just as much as they backed us. She has the very unique ability to watch multiple people’s sixes at once, you know. 

T STARK: Do I regret that she was there, and fighting? Yes. But it isn’t because of her lack of training. Carrie was in the original battle with Thanos, and then, she had no training whatsoever. We didn’t even know her, she just… showed up. A phone-a-friend none of us expected. She didn’t even want to join the team, but we were very insistent. And even though she didn’t want to be there with us, even though we didn’t all get along, she trained harder than I could have imagined. She let us beat her down for months, until she finally got strong enough to start beating us back. Carrie understood the meaning of responsibility in a way that I never could have at her age. She was about ten years younger than I was when I became Iron Man, and it took me another decade to get the hang of it. Of what’s right and wrong, when to meddle and when to let well alone. Carrie is… Carrie is a rational person. Naturally. I think that’s very rare. 

[He goes silent for a while. No reporters move or speak during this time. The room is waiting.]

T STARK: She’s as good a soldier as they come. Four years is a short time, but she made it work. Learned all the tricks, built up her triceps. You should see her clean a gun. 

T STARK: Nah. I regret that she was there, because she saved me. In the end, it wasn’t Captain America. It wasn’t Thor. It wasn’t Iron Man. For all the time I spent wishing she never would have shown up in our lives, that we didn’t have to train her when we were all just trying to grieve… it turns out she was the common Denominator. She took the snap for me. It would have killed me. 

[The atmosphere in the room is somber. An attendant from backstage comes out to whisper in Stark’s ear.]

T STARK: Oh, fuck. My bad- my- she didn’t die. Sorry, sorry people, I got caught up in… I missed that part of the question, uhm-

[He laughs nervously. The room explodes with questions].

T STARK: Alright, alright! I’m sorry! Listen, just…

T STARK: I might get in trouble for saying this. Oh, well. Listen. It was her that stole back the stones when Thanos almost won a second time. It was her that snapped, and it was her that brought everybody back. She saved you- all of you people. Even if you were never gone, she saved you from what would have happened if we hadn’t succeeded. I’ve spent my time as Carrie’s enemy. But now, I’m over it. What can I say, I’ve always been stubborn. We got off on the wrong foot, and I carried that with me for five years. I want to correct it. 

The transcript continued for a while, with more questions prompting a more detailed description of the battle’s timeline and the status of various involved parties. There were a few more questions about Carrie, but most of them were more personal and were brushed off by Stark with promises that she would recover soon and give her own statements. Carrie groaned, her head tipping back against the headrest of her seat. 

“You watched this live?” She asked Will.

“Oh- you’re reading it? Isn’t it kind of… sweet?” he laughed. “I almost cried.” 

“He never should have told them all that,” Carrie snapped, not seeming touched in the slightest. “He did it while I was still in Wakanda on purpose. He knew I wouldn’t like it.” 

“Why not? It’s good for you, isn’t it? You’re a hero.” 

Carrie’s stomach twisted. A hero… it didn’t sound right in her ears. It didn’t feel right, knowing that’s what people would be thinking about her. Of course, she had been a ‘hero’ for five years now. She was among the ranks of Earth’s Mightiest heroes, even- but as much effort as she put into training, or helping with relief efforts for various tragedies, she had never been a real Avenger. She had never been in battles, never put on reconnaissance, even though her power would be perfect for gathering intel. She was a mascot at best, in the years following the snap. Even the news typically agreed that her admission to the team had been a PR move following a major tragedy. Publically, Carrie was nice. She was grounded, and she put a lot of noticeable effort into charity work and relief, which had never been the Avenger’s focus in the past. Carrie’s power was a parlor trick used to remove more people from a flood or to serve more people at a time out of the soup kitchen. She wasn’t the saviour of the world. She hadn’t been at the Battle of New York or in Sokovia. She just… she couldn’t let Stark die. And that had mostly been for Morgan. 

And here he was, telling the world what he knew she wouldn’t have told them. I want to correct it, he’d said. But there was nothing to correct. Carrie knew that her entrapment within the team was her own fault. She had committed a felony, as victimless as it might have been. It was a sense of personal responsibility which had kept her from trying to escape, which had driven her to train and to work hard. And Tony knew that, didn’t he? After all, he had said it himself; Carrie was a naturally rational person. Not a naturally good one. 

“I’m not a hero,” she finally whispered. Will was silent for a moment on the other end. She could practically see him, lips pursed, debating what to say. “It was my job.”

“Well. You’re very professional, then,” he replied, but his voice was more somber than humorous. “Not many people would do that for a job.” 

“I…”

Carrie startled slightly, her head whipping to the side as Bucky clambered into the cockpit and sunk into the seat next to her. He barely glanced at her, but he did when he noticed her staring. She hastily muted herself on the call, turning down the volume in case Will began speaking again. 

“What?” Bucky huffed, glaring at her openly. “We’re almost there. I’ve gotta land this thing.” 

Carrie glanced out the window, and was surprised to find that it was true; she could see the expanse of New York stretched out below them. 

“Oh,” she breathed. She glanced back at Bucky again, hesitating. Part of her wanted to slip back to the hull, just to escape him for these last few minutes. The part of her that was stubborn, though, forced her to stay right as she was. “Alright.” 

“Go ahead and finish your call,” he grumbled mockingly. “You can pretend I’m not even here.”

Carrie frowned, glancing back down at her phone. 

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” she glowered back, and pressed the button to hang up. “I’ll call him back.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. “Not even saying goodbye? Isn’t that rude?”

“Eh, he’ll live. It’s only Will,” Carrie dismissed him absent-mindedly. In the same moment, her phone began ringing again, and she silenced it, annoyed.

“Seems like he wasn’t done talking,” Bucky deadpanned. 

“He’s done,” Carrie replied, a note of finality in her tone. “Until I call him back.” 

Bucky snickered. “Lighten up. What did he do to deserve that? All because he said you were a-”

“Can you be quiet?” Carrie snapped, cutting him off. “You shouldn’t have been listening in anyway.”

“There’s not exactly a door I can close,” he huffed. “Take it off speaker if you don’t want me to hear.”

“Classy,” Carrie grumbled back, her face twisting. Bucky glanced at her, put-off by the sudden upset expression. She looked more hurt than angry, now. 

“What?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit defensive. “What did I say?” 

“I can’t hold it, asshole ,” she hissed. She turned her face away, shrinking in on herself slightly in the co-pilot’s seat. “My hands.” 

Bucky’s expression hardened, and he felt a slight twinge of guilt, but he pushed it down. 

“I didn’t know,” he replied, but it fell flat. Carrie sighed, and let her eyes slip closed.

"Right. There's a lot that you don't know." 

***

Once the jet had landed, and Happy had come to take Carrie back downstairs- looking overly concerned just as Tony had been for the past month- Bucky set about the work of trying to push the awkward interaction out of his mind. After all, how was he supposed to know that she couldn’t hold her phone? One of her hands was mostly fine, after all- only the fingertips were dry and gray like her other hand. It wasn’t exactly an intuitive assumption that it would stop her from holding a phone to her ear. 

Was it because of her grip strength? Could she not bend her fingers from the top knuckle? He didn’t know. Speculating only made him feel worse, so he tried to stop that too. Instead, he made his way back to his room. It was untouched, even though it had been uninhabited for the past five years, and thankfully all his stuff was still inside. If his enhanced senses allowed him to tune into the fact that there was somebody in the room next-door, which had always been empty in the past, he pretended not to care. He pretended not to make the logical deduction that it was Carrie in that room. In fact, he pretended not to hear it in the first place. 

He continued to pretend not to hear as the springs of her bed creaked on the opposite side of the wall, and her phone began ringing. He pretended not to hear- and, when he couldn’t lie to himself anymore, pretended not to listen- as she picked it up.

“Will,” she greeted. Bucky’s eyebrow twitched. “Had to land, I’m sorry…Yes, at the tower…Hell, why not? It’s not like Tony will say no.”

Bucky moved to the kitchen. Farther away. He started cooking dinner- enough for a few people, just out of habit, though he wasn’t actually sure how many people had moved back into the tower or who might be around tonight. He put on an audiobook to distract himself, and for a while, he felt a bit more peaceful. When the elevator door opened, though, and Tony walked in with a clueless-looking man stumbling behind him, peering around with wide eyes, Bucky regretted it. 

“This place is crazy,” he breathed. Tony looked down at him, unimpressed, but with a small gleam of amusement in his eye. 

“See? We treat your girl alright,” he joked, throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders and jostling him. The boy’s mouth set into a slightly harder line. 

“I’m going to let that slide because you’re an Avenger and you just totally saved the world,” he huffed. 

“Alright, Will,” Tony grinned, not taking him seriously at all. Bucky felt the peace slip away from him in an instant at the name, and his eyes narrowed on the boy. He was tall, but lanky. He was a couple inches above Tony, but he didn’t necessarily look more impressive. He was younger, but he obviously had a confident demeanor about him. “She’s just down here.”

Tony moved him down the hall toward the bedrooms, and Bucky fought with himself on whether he was glad to be rid of them or annoyed that he had been ignored. What was he expecting, for Tony to introduce him? That guy was obviously only here for Carrie. And if that was her boyfriend, why was he being shown around like he had never been here before? Was that not weird? 

He said as much, when Tony reappeared, despite that he had planned on keeping quiet. 

“New boyfriend?” he snickered. “Seemed a little lost.” 

“Boyfriend? Nah, they aren’t dating,” Tony replied, peering over Bucky’s shoulder to see what he was cooking. “God. I missed having home ec around here,” he snickered. Bucky sighed in annoyance, trying not to show how curious he was about Will or who he was to the new team member.

“What, the new housewife doesn’t cook?” he sneered. Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“She does, actually,” Tony replied, taking Bucky’s mockery at face value. He really hadn’t changed. “But not usually for everyone. She usually just eats with Bruce.”

“Unsurprising.” Bucky grumbled. He prodded at the large pan of risotto over the stove, checking the consistency. “Walked in on them cooking together yesterday , actually. It was sickening.” 

This time, Tony laughed. He stuck a finger into the risotto, pulling it back and licking at the sauce despite Bucky’s noise of protest. He hummed appreciatively. 

“I don’t know. It’s nice that he has company,” Tony mused. Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“Since when do you care about shit like that?”

Tony shrugged, leaning back against the counter. He peered around the room for a moment, as if taking in all the details. His eyes lingered for a while on the stools lining the kitchen counter, and briefly, he wondered if they might get used more often now. If everyone might move back in together. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. “From some point on. I have a kid now, you know. I’m getting soft.” 

Bucky paused, the spoon freezing in its tracks where he had been dragging it through the risotto. He blinked. His stomach twisted. 

“You have- you have a kid. Since when?” 

Tony turned to look at him, then. His expression was calm, contemplative, almost content in a way that looked foreign on his face. 

“She’s four,” he supplied. The corners of his lips twitched up slightly, barely perceptible. “My daughter. Morgan. You didn’t pick that up when we were talking about Carrie?” 

Bucky faltered, his brow furrowing as he thought back. He guessed there had been some mentions of something like that- about Carrie sacrificing herself to stop Tony from leaving Morgan behind. But he hadn’t absorbed it. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of Morgan being a daughter. Because Tony didn’t have a daughter. He had Pepper, and even that was typically a rocky, on-and-off type of relationship. What Tony really had was Iron Man, the team. 

“I guess things have changed,” Bucky mumbled. He barely felt like he was speaking at all, and Tony seemed to pick up on his far-awayness, his expression softening sympathetically. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder reassuringly. 

“You’ll get there, Barnes. You did it once already.”