Vast pools of tears flowed out of your eyes, running a river to encompass down your body, but you accepted the flood. It was tragic, the element of death, it was cold and unforgiving, taking whomever and whatever it pleased with its morbid grip, confiscating them from life and forcing them to be another form forever entrapped in the underworld.
Death had come again, leaving you heart broken, crumbling into your shell, tissues were useless to mop up the mess. There was so much pain crafting you into it’s victim, a person that had escaped its clutches, but remained futile to its sickly affects. To say you felt prepared to vomit was an understatement, and worst of all, you had yet to inform the man that had brought that little ball of fur home.
He was on a mission, about twenty minutes away from returning home, and it would absolutely wreck his heart to know that the world had handed him a situation so cruel. The cat had been crying, his eyes ruggedly searching for his father, but the white ball of fluff was forced to be sent into his peace without seeing him one last time.
There was guilt riding on your shoulders, maybe it was because you had been coerced by the veterinarians to put him on a diet, and he was suffering from that. Though they stated, trying to give you a sentence of reassurance, that the circumstances that had made Alpine deteriorate so quickly, within the span of ten minutes, was inevitable, and it was due to genetics.
The results were going to happen sooner or later, and you had to perceive what was best for your baby. There had been no time given to consult with your husband about the matter, he was pardoned from his allowance to communicate, in case the enemy tracked him whilst he was at work. And here you were, holding one of the feline’s prized possessions, as you curled up on the couch, his favourite blanket secured around you, as you messily sobbed.
It was certain that you were a sight for sore eyes, but your appearance didn’t matter. A part of you were relieved that you had been chosen to forgo the mission, otherwise poor Rhodey would be accountable for the decision as he cat sat for you, confused by the motives that he was supposed to lean towards.
The creak of the front door opening caused you to stiffen, realising that Bucky had arrived home. It would kill him to discover the events that had taken place in his absence, he adored that cat, you even had an inkling it was more than you, not that you minded.
Originally, the two of you had chosen to purchase a cat, to fill the absence of not being able to have a child together. It wasn’t that you couldn’t physically endure a pregnancy, nor the same with Bucky being able to cause one, it was more so a risk, with your combined genetics, it was uncertain how that child would turn out.
And not to mention, it was not fair to bring a baby into the world with powers, the pair of you hardly had your own under control. People, like hydra, would be after the baby, it being a blend of two powerful avengers, and no one should have to endure being hunted at all, let alone from birth onwards.
This one day, after speaking about rescuing a small critter, Bucky had turned up from his morning job, a small, meek and dirty kitten in his grasp. It cried, obviously hungry and malnourished, desperate for food and affection. For the past five years, that had been exactly what he had received; he had even been fed somewhat too well, hence the diet he had been prescribed.
“Doll.” His voice sent shivers up your spine, making you clutch onto the items of your baby tighter. Throughout the house, there were gentle reminders of him, and you had yet to bare the consequences of getting ready of any of it, it was too soon. “You okay baby?” He asks, dropping his bag, and kneeling before you, trying to cradle your face as you sniffled.
Shaking your head, you bit your lip, reaching your hand out to grasp his shoulders with a combusting touch. He knew from that contact alone there was something wrong, definitely wrong. “Alpine took a turn for the worst bubba.”
You could see the panic in his eyes, his blue orbs darting around the room, and the entrance to the hallway, as he tried to process your statement. “What? Is he okay, where is he?” I’m his life, James had lost so many people, they were all stolen by the reapers, that watched him carefully, constantly deciding that it was not yet his time.
“Bubs…” your eyes said it all, and Bucky felt his own turn glassy. A chortled breath escaped his lips as he tried to comprehend what you weren’t saying. “He is no longer in pain, it was an easy decision, though it did and still is killing me. I couldn’t wait to let him suffer more.”
You soothed his shoulder with strokes, as tears rapidly cowered from his waterline. “Did we do something wrong, was it his weight?” He blubbered, urgent to find an answer to the madness that was torturing him.
“No baby, it wasn’t us.” Breathing in, you allowed the air to circuit in your chest, giving you a moment of relief before you answered his urgent enquiring. Seeing him like this was killing you almost as much as it did when you carried the small animal’s body out of the clinic. “They said it was genetic, and that we had to think what was best for him. So I did, and a part of me was happy you weren’t there, it would have killed you.”
“It would have.” He agreed through his calloused and torn voice. “D’you bury him?” He asked as he swiped his nose with his knuckles, watching as you sat up, and combed your fingers through his brunette locks.
“Yeah, come on.” You stood, taking your partner by his shivering vibranium hand, leading out the back door of your home, and into the garden. There was a fresh patch of dirt in the middle of the shadow of the small holly bush, it being the destination where Alpine rested.
“He always liked to try and eat those. Half the time he’d just hide in there, and I’d be worried when I couldn’t find him when I came home.” He lightly laughed through his liquid sorrow, squinting his eyes shut as he imagined just that. Your hand found refuge once more on his shoulder, as you rested your head on his side, the rest of his arm wrapping around your quivering waist.
“He is home Jamie.” You spoke softly, as your face continued to be stained with evidence of your pain. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you could hear his shaky breaths; this man was really killing you, the pair of you knew that this dreaded day would eventually come, but it had breached your emotions too soon.
That small kitten had showed you how to love, encouraged you both to relax on particularly hard days, and now all you and Bucky had was each other. Your baby was deep in his slumber, and you hoped he had lovely dreams, as he rested under the thriving of hollies. Alpine would be sincerely missed, it was a great presence absent from your lives.
Death held no mercy upon its victims, he simply took and took until there was no more to take. And here you were, waiting for you to be next on the cycle, though it appeared that he never was fond of you, the coil of life was strung around you strong, and that meant you would have to remain here, with all these reminders of the loved ones that you had lost.