INDY

“So,” I said awkwardly, my left breast squished between the paddles of what looked like a huge can crusher. “Womanhood, amiright?”

Christine Palmer seemed sweet. She was technically a surgeon, but she and Bruce assured us that her medical training and on-the-job experience built her up to the task. Plus, she was previously involved with Stephen Strange, so the likelihood of her selling us out to Hydra was slim enough that we felt safe in risking it.

She gave me a knowing smile that dimpled her cheeks. “If the men had to do it, we’d have died out as a species a long time ago.”

I chuckled nervously. I’d had mammograms and pap smears before, like any other fully grown woman. But I’d never had them in the context of pregnancy. Bruce and Bucky were upstairs, probably making awkward conversation, while Christine and I took care of the messy stuff down in the lab.

“Thanks again for doing this for us,” I continued after a silent few minutes. “I don’t know if Bruce has told you, but we’re somewhat… wanted at the moment. There’s not many people we can trust right now.”

Her eyebrows quirked sympathetically. “Of course. I’m not an OB or anything, but I’ve had a lot of experience in labor and delivery. Between me and Dr. Banner, I think everything should be fine. Alright, you’re good.”

The machine released me and I readjusted my shirt back over myself, giving my boob a discreet massage and wincing before taking a seat on the stool beside the doctor.

“Well,” Christine said through a deep breath. “Based on what I’ve read in your medical file, and what you’ve told me, I’d put your due date at about… mid-August. I can give you a more precise day once you’ve gotten further along and we do an ultrasound to check the size of the baby.”

I nodded, blowing out a shaky breath and wiping my palms off on my jeans.

“I’ve filled and picked up a prescription for prenatal vitamins, iron supplements, and B12 vitamins. You’ll want to increase your fiber and calcium intake. You could gain a few pounds in the next few months, but some women lose weight in the beginning, so if you do, don’t panic. You’re going to start experiencing mood swings soon — lots of them. And you’ll start feeling sore and tired for no reason. Your feet may swell, and you might feel some discomfort in your lower abdomen or ribs. That’s just your body getting ready to adjust to the baby growing. Basically, self-care is the name of the game for you right now. Take lots of naps. Throw a bunch of time into your hobbies. Maybe pick up some new ones.”

She stopped and scanned my overwhelmed face, giving me a gentle smile. “You’re all alone out here with only two superhuman men for company. I won’t lie to you. That’s going to wear on your patience and your sanity before long. I know it’s dangerous for you to have contact outside this island right now. But if you need me, for medical advice or just to talk — really, anything — just send me a message.”

She pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled her phone number out on the top sheet of detailed instructions she had for me. I took the small stack and felt the weight of the first steps toward motherhood between my hands.

Oh my God, what the hell am I doing?

“Thank you, Christine,” I said quietly, wishing the wetness of my eyes would stop building. She was just so nice. She’d agreed to this with no transactional benefit for herself. And she seemed so genuinely accepting of the situation Bucky and I had found ourselves in. Not an ounce of judgment hid in those brown eyes.

She leaned forward and put her hand over mine, squeezing it like we’d been friends for years. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. I’ll be back here for every checkup and the delivery. I understand the circumstances are slightly more difficult given the father’s influence on the genetics of the baby, but you do have some advantages most women don’t. For one thing, you’re on a private island with your husband.”

I didn’t bother correcting her (I was wearing his ring after all), instead chuckling with her. “Yeah, I guess you don’t really have to worry about maternity leave when you’re on the lam.”

BUCKY

Bruce sipped from his enormous coffee mug across from me in his kitchen, trying and failing not to shoot glances at me here and there. Despite the time we’d spent building the cottage together, we hadn’t really talked all that much. Not about things that didn’t relate to the project we’d been focused on.

I was sure he was past the shock of learning about Indy and I, so my assumption was that his curiosity was scholarly. He did seem to get awfully giddy when new theories occurred to him, or when new test results came in. I tried to tell myself that was a good thing; more concern from Bruce meant more resources to safely deliver the baby. But my instincts told me that medical curiosity over me and anything to do with me meant imminent peril.

Instincts and common sense were sometimes enemies. Especially in the minds of people like me.

“How’d the cottage work for you guys last night?” Bruce asked casually, trying to start up a conversation.

A memory of Indy with wet, swollen lips parted, staring wantonly up at me from her knees on our new bed, flashed behind my eyelids. I cleared my throat and took a sip of my coffee. “Good, yeah. Thanks.”

We were saved from attempting to fill the awkward silence when Indy and Dr. Palmer walked in. I straightened up from my leaned-over position at the counter and swept forward to meet Indy. She stepped into my arms without hesitation, sighing quietly when my hands settled against her back.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, keeping an arm around my back as she stepped to my side. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

But her eyes were tight above her smile. Something was off. I nodded and rubbed her upper arm, kissing the top of her head. She’d tell me later.

“Well, I’ve done what I can for now,” Dr. Palmer said, glancing around at the three of us. She pointed at Bruce. “You keep an eye on her blood pressure and protein levels.” She turned to point at me. “You make sure she takes her vitamins and gets plenty of rest.” She looked down at Indy with a smile. “And you… relax. Let yourself be taken care of for a while before you become an official care provider.”

Indy cracked a smile back at her, but the strain in the corners of her eyes was still there.

“I’ll be back in a month for your next checkup. We’ll be able to listen for a heartbeat and do a first ultrasound then,” the doctor said nonchalantly over her shoulder as she left Bruce’s house, our big green friend stepping out with her to escort her back to her transport.

Indy seemed to sway on her feet, leaning heavily into my side. I felt similarly off-balance and reached a hand out to steady us both against the wall.

Heartbeat. Ultrasound.

Only one month and this would go from an intangible, vague idea to an impactful reality.

Indy turned in the loop of my metal arm, clinging to my shirt and pressing her face into my shoulder. “This is… a lot,” she muttered unevenly.

I nodded, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I know. It is.”

Neither of us said anything to downplay the seriousness. For once, Indy had no jokes for the moment. We just held each other, both of our hearts beating frantically. It had been easy to be brave about the idea of becoming parents together when all I was thinking about was keeping Indy by my side forever. Now we were both quaking cowards. But we were together. That was what mattered… right?

INDY

I had a nice little cocktail of pills to take every day now, along with fairly regular blood pressure monitoring and urine tests. I had to pee every hour (sometimes more) and I was starting to notice a change in my emotions. Bucky pointed out that I was growing morose more easily, zoning out frequently during times of low-energy. Care to take three guesses at what was on my mind?

Bucky was just as attentive as ever, suggesting that I nap anytime I started to become listless. I couldn’t fight him too hard on it, considering the fatigue was setting in. He put up a hammock around the side of the cottage, just at the edge of the beach and perfectly shaded by the palms it hung between. He would either cuddle up with me in our dark, cool room, or in the hammock, with coastal sounds lulling me to sleep against his solid chest.

Thanksgiving came a week after Christine’s visit. Bruce apparently had a family thing to attend, so it was just Bucky and me alone on an island.

“How many pies did you make?” Bucky asked in shock, staring at the breakfast table, every inch of it claimed by pie.

“Seven,” I said, smiling as I pulled the seventh pie out of the oven and held it aloft on my oven-mitted palm. I stood on my toes and pecked him on the cheek as I crossed the kitchen to deposit the apple pie with the others. “I just couldn’t pick a flavor. Besides, there are three people on this island. A Hulk, a pregnant woman, and a super soldier with a crazy metabolism. You can’t tell me it’ll go to waste.”

He opened his mouth and shut it again. Then rolled his eyes, frowning. “Why are you always right?”

Something about it felt just like old times and I giggled. But it started to catch in my throat and turned into tears.

Buck’s blue eyes widened, lips parting in shock. He took a few quick steps toward me, holding the back of my head and kissing my cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed softly. “What’s wrong?”

I smiled at him through my tears, shaking my head helplessly. I felt like such a mess. But he was there, holding me together.

“Is it the pie thing?” he asked, looking adorably confused. “I was just teasing you, I-”

I shook my head more firmly, sniffling as I put my hands on his shoulders. “No, it’s not that, I just…” I huffed out a strained breath, unsure how to articulate what I was feeling. “I love you. So much. And I’m glad you came on the run with me.”

His concerned look warmed into a fond smile, both hands cupping my face. “You think I’d let someone else run off with you?” His lips closed over mine slowly, sucking gently. Then he pulled back and whispered, “Not my girl.”

I leaned heavily into him. “I’m sorry. I know this is stupid-”

“No,” he said, tucking my head beneath his chin. “Shh. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”

I pressed my ear to his chest, closing my eyes to listen for his heartbeat.

He’s right here. I’m fine.

The inexplicable crying tapered off, silent tears sliding and drying on the sides of my face. I don’t know why I was crying. I think they were happy tears. All I knew was that the thought of things turning out any other way filled me with a kind of sadness I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.

“Come on,” Bucky grunted, bending down to lift me into his arms. “You need to take a break. You’ve been cooking since before sunrise.”

I’d had a lot of energy stored up from all the napping, and the holiday had injected me with a burst of energy. I glanced over his shoulder as he carried me to the living room. “Alright. But when my timer goes off, I need to take the turkey out. It’s the only thing still going.”

“Alright,” he consented as we reached the couch. Rather than setting me down on it myself, he simply sat, pulling me tighter against him so that my legs draped across his lap, my waist supported by his arm. “But we’re watching a musical. You haven’t watched one since we left New York. Feels unnatural.”

I glanced sideways at his narrow-eyed face as he fiddled with the remote. “If I didn’t know any better, Sarge, I’d say you missed them.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes to the side to look at me. “I missed seeing your face when you watched them. Nothing else.”

“‘My face when I watched them’? Is that different from my normal face?”

He grinned as he started up the screen version of Cyrano I had yet to see. “It used to be the only time I could touch you without anyone realizing what was happening in my head,” he said softly, pulling me closer to his face. “In my heart. I could put my hand on your shoulder when you cried and you and everyone else just thought… ‘Oh, that’s nice, he’s comforting her.’ But I just… couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

I brought my fingers to his face, tracing the edge of his beard, smiling as I remembered all those times. Funny how a memory can change with context. “You could have told me how you felt,” I told him, not for the first time.

He smiled sadly. “I was convinced I was doing the right thing by you. Keeping myself from becoming too involved in your life. Clearly, I’m terrible at staying away from you.”

I chuckled beneath my breath, bringing my lips closer to his, intent on kissing him until one or the other of us was lightheaded. “Yeah, thank God for that.”

He pecked my lips quickly, then grabbed my chin between his fingers, holding me firmly an inch away. “Be good. Watch the movie. Otherwise, I’ll take you back to the bedroom and we’ll never get to all that food you worked so hard on.”

I squirmed in his lap at the low growl in his voice, but pouted and reclined against him, turning my attention to the TV. We made it three-quarters of the way through the movie (and I had already cried four separate times) when the smell of smoke drifted to us. Bucky would normally have smelled it first, but for once, my sense of smell seemed to be on par with his.

Our heads whipped toward each other quickly and then we were scrambling to untangle ourselves and stand from the couch at the same time, speeding around the corner into the kitchen.

“Stay back,” Bucky said firmly, not looking to check whether I listened or not. He opened the oven and stuck his vibranium hand inside, displaying his inhuman strength by pulling out the flaming turkey, roasting pan and all, from the oven one-handed. “Front door.”

I raced past him, gagging on the smell of burned meat, and flung the door open, grabbing a tea towel and waving smoke clouds toward the doorway as Bucky rushed through.

He didn’t bother with a fire extinguisher or water. He just tossed the pan upside down into the sand. The fire hissed out and I watched through the doorway as Bucky kneeled down to press his metal palm into the sand as well, presumably cooling the metal.

Unable to stand the thick smoke inside the house, I abandoned the towel and stepped out onto the sand as well.

“Why didn’t the timer go off?” I groaned, holding my forehead with both hands as I wilted against the front of the house.

Bucky frowned up at me, standing and reentering the house. He came back with the kitchen timer in his hand. It had ticked down to 0. I snatched it from him, staring at it incredulously.

“I never even heard it.”

“That’s because it never went off,” Bucky said hesitantly. “I would have heard it, Doll. I don’t think you ever set it.”

I felt like a computer that had been unexpectedly rebooted. My face wiped blank. I stared at him, open-mouthed. Then I cried. Bucky reeled me in with a deep sigh.

“That’s the first turkey I’ve ever burned,” I sobbed, feeling ridiculous, but unable to stop myself. There was a lot going on in me right now. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot to start the timer.”

I felt his hands running gently over my back, and he rested his cheek against the top of my head. He didn’t try to remind me that forgetfulness was something we’d been anticipating as a symptom of pregnancy. He didn’t say anything to dissuade me from my nonsensical emotions. But he hummed. Quietly. I didn’t recognize the tune, but it was comforting enough to calm my bawling.

“We’ve still got pie,” he murmured after a moment.

Manic laughter bubbled its way through my tears. “Seven pies. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Bucky said patiently, stroking my hair. “You did all the cooking on your own, you’ve been up for longer than I have, and you’re growing another person. Something was bound to fall through the cracks.”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “I hope this doesn’t become some kind of sad tradition. Me breaking down on Thanksgiving.”

I felt Bucky smile against my forehead. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think it will. Next year, things will be different. The baby will be here.”

I swallowed thickly, drawing closer to him because his proximity soothed my anxiety. I let myself picture it for a second, me and Bucky taking turns holding a tiny baby, probably having to feed each other during dinner. It caused another surge of panic, but I let the mental image evaporate before it really took form.

Once I’d calmed down, Bucky decided the house was still too smoky for me to safely reenter. So he ferried all of the prepared food outside, along with a thick blanket, and we had Thanksgiving dinner on the beach. Sans turkey. We talked about what we thought the rest of our team was doing for the holiday, ruminated over what Sam was going to say when he found out everything that had happened since we left, had a lighthearted debate on the most overrated of Thanksgiving foods.

We sat side by side with our toes in the sand, fingers touching where we leaned back as we watched the sunset. A circular dish of half-eaten pumpkin pie sat between us, two forks sticking out of it. I suppose I picked the right man to marry. To have a baby with. If he could so easily pull me back from my erratically dismal mood and back into calm.

I first remembered feeling this particular brand of mental stillness, of relief and connection, the night I’d had to saddle the team up and chase Bucky and Sam down to North Carolina. The night we’d saved them from Eleanor Bishop and her goons. The plane ride back had been the first time he’d been genuinely open with me. Vulnerable.

16 Months Ago

“It’s not just you we’re worried about. Barnes is a loose cannon. We’re considering cutting him-”

“Sir, with all due respect,” I objected. “Without Steve Rogers around, he is the only super soldier we’ve got. We need him. And after the Peach Bottom incident, we know Hydra’s got their eye on him again. We let him loose and we leave him vulnerable to reacquisition.”

We hadn’t been on good terms for a lot of our acquaintanceship. But the idea of him being found, broken down and used again tore at something in me. We were finally becoming something close to friends. At least we were roommates who could stand to work with each other. That wasn’t even factoring in the objective threat he could pose from the other side…

Fury sighed, clearly thinking over my plea. “Agent Strathos. Tony put a lot of faith in you. It’s the main reason you’re here. Show us you’re capable of handling this team.”

I fought down the involuntary shudder that wanted to crawl up my back at his warning tone. “I will, sir.”

I shut the hologram down and fell into my seat, letting out a short whine as I rubbed my face with both hands. “Ugh, Tony,” I grumbled, leaning over onto my knees. “What the hell did you get me into?”

I was startled into looking up when I heard the curtain separating the cabins slide across its bar. Bucky ducked through, the curtain swinging back into place as he stepped forward.

“Hey.” His eyes were guarded, shoulders tense.

Despite his obvious discomfort, irritation stirred in me. “Bucky-”

He held up a gloved hand, wincing slightly as he stepped forward. “I know you said you’d deal with me back at the compound, but…”

He hesitated. So long I raised an eyebrow to prompt him forward. Sam was always comparing Bucky’s brain to that of a robot. He certainly seemed to be lagging. Eventually, he regained himself enough to shake his head, sit in the seat across from me, and release a heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, eyes glued to his hands.

I felt my spine stiffen in surprise. I wasn’t sure he’d ever said those words to me before.

“I shouldn’t have… Well, there’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have done.” He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes. The picture of deep regret. And it cooled some of my anger.

“Well,” I struggled to hold on to my firm tone, hoping he wouldn’t see through to how much empathy I actually had for him. It would only make it harder to manage him. Easier for him to steamroll over me. “Thank you. I’m glad you realize how important the things I do for the team are now.”

He looked up at me then, and I was suddenly reminded of his picture between the pages of my childhood textbooks. This man made myth. I’d had such an enormous crush on him back then. I tried not to think about it often, but sometimes he angled his head a certain way or let his guard down enough that I couldn’t help remembering…

“Look, I’m not… very good at this.” He leaned forward, some of that safety wall of his now chipped away. There was something honest and hopeful of acceptance in his eyes. And I knew it didn’t really matter what his next words were. Professionally, he was still screwed; I was his boss. But personally… I’d forgiven him the minute he walked through the curtain and tried to make things right. He continued speaking, unaware of my internal verdict.

“But I appreciate what you do for us all. You’re good at your job. I didn’t realize how good until I was cuffed to Sam on Kate’s crazy mom’s yacht-”

It was the most humor he had attempted with me. I couldn’t stop the laughter that spilled past my attempt at being a hard-ass.

He smiled a tiny bit. A softer expression than I ever expected to see on him.

I sighed. “Thanks, Bucky. But you are still kind of in the dog house.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, letting his head loll limply back against the seat. He was more free in his movements suddenly, joints loose, unlike his usual rigidity. “What does that mean?”

“You’re grounded.”

Present Day

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Bucky asked, smoothing his thumb across my temple as he brushed my hair back. His blue eyes held the glow of a man enamored.

I think my own expression was similar. I shook my head slowly, “No reason.”

He grinned, scooting the pie dish away from us and leaning over me to kiss me, my back pressed into the sand.

“I know I’ve said it about fifteen times today,” I said through quickening breaths as his lips trailed down my chin, across my jaw, down my neck. “I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

His lips stilled, pressed firmly to my jugular. He lifted his head, smirked at me. “I love you. Belinda Barnes.”

I gagged loudly, Bucky’s laughter erupting over me. My distaste for my birth name was the only thing that could overpower the girlish squealing happening in my head over hearing him refer to me with his last name.

“Don’t bring Belinda into this,” I laughed, grabbing onto Bucky’s shirt as we rolled gently in the sand.

“Oh come on,” he whined teasingly. “It makes you actually sound old enough for me.”

I head-butted his chest and tried to roll him myself, but his bulk didn’t allow it, so he rolled for my benefit. If this was the Thanksgiving tradition I had to look forward to… life with Bucky was going to be wonderful.