Legendary

A few days later, Damian went home early. He assured me that he was feeling fine, when I inquired, but he had something to do. I went home precisely on time to find out what exactly he was being slippery about. Eira and I found him in the library; we passed Alfred, who was laughing. When we walked in, Damian was just putting down a hex wrench and staring up proudly at his creation. It was an enormous cat tree, with comfortable perches lined with beige shag carpet and the posts wrapped in sisal rope. "You could work for Serena," I said of his architectural skills. "Frank and Joe will love it."

He turned to me, smiling brightly, and I just KNEW.

"Oh, damn, Damian. You brought home another cat."

His response was preempted by a smallish long haired cat who climbed one of the posts like a linesman for the electric company and peered at us over the edge of topmost perch. This cat had coppery brown fur, white markings like it was wearing a shirt under a tuxedo jacket, white paws, elegant long white whiskers, big dark amber eyes, black tail tip and bracelets, and an extravagant ruff. Eira got on her hind legs, bracing against a post, to get a better view. Her tail began to wag in excitement over how furry this new cat was. I sighed.

"No more pets without preapproval," I said sternly. Damian tried to look meek but failed spectacularly.

"It's a good sized cat," I said, sighing. "How old is it?"

"Actually, she's a kitten," he said, and I goggled. "She's a skogkatt, a Norwegian Forest Cat, or Weegie. I got her from a rescue group, she doesn't really have a name." He showed me pictures of huge, fluffy cats and read me descriptions. I was a little despairing when we got to the part where the author said that the breed loves to climb so much they can and will climb rock. I thought of all the nice curtains in the house and what a really large cat could do to them and pulled out my communicator and called Carol. She laughed as I explained my new issue, cooed over the picture I sent, and promised to make a taller cat tree that would fit in with the library. A mere seven foot cat tree wasn't going to cut it, apparently.

The kitten hadn't come down yet by the time Alfred served dinner although Eira was positively longing to examine her new acquisition. The new addition was everything she could want in a cat except too small, and that would be remedied with time; it apparently took up to five years for Weegies to achieve their full growth. Other facts about the cats peppered the conversation; they shed their thick soft undercoat in spring and weren't big shedders the rest of the year, which was nice. They have double coats, with coarser guard fur that is waterproof. They're intelligent and homebodies, but independent, deciding when and where to snuggle. We sat in the library afterward, trying out names on the kitten. She came down when I tried "Signy," so that was that.

"Means 'victory,'" I told Damian as we watched her progress with interest. "That was also the name of one of the older valkyries, an excellent leader and someone I respected a lot. She's got a lot to live up to." We watched in fascination as the cats sidled up to her. She firmly established the pecking order by whapping Sam lightly on the head, cowing him. Frank edged away, and she sat down and washed her paw, tail twitching slightly. Then she looked around, came over to the sofa, climbed the arm rather than jumping up, and walked over our laps and allowed us to pet in passing before jumping down and heading over to Eira. Charlie sat warily behind the big dog. Signy sniffed Eira, who was lying on her side, then walked around and settled against her tummy behind her front legs. And so peace in our time was achieved.

The next day I stopped by Steve's studio to pick up the last of the clothes I'd ordered. He was looking more relaxed than he had been the last time I'd seen him, like he'd caught up on his sleep, and both happier and more focused. The press had adored his show and the stores that carried his line couldn't keep his ready-to-wear in stock. His couture designs were also among the most popular of the season, according to RateTheCollection, which surveyed potential and actual customers of the top fifty American, Parisian, and London couturiers. He was more popular than the venerable houses of Worth, Poirot, Madame Gres, McQueen, Chanel, and Fortuny, landing firmly in the upper third of those houses that were tracked. His competition, according to the source, were the historical houses of Dior, Callot Soeurs, Schiaparelli, James, and Fath, and the newer big guns of Desseleurs, MacKintosh, and Parson-Tableur. Sonia, my vendeuse, saw on the tag that Steve wanted to talk if I had time, and I had only a short wait for him to finish the final fitting of the client, last years' winner of the Academy Award for Best Actress. It wasn't usual for the designer to supervise the fittings, and usually he left them to his fitters, who were at the top of their game, but there were some designs that were tricky or he he was just really possessive about. I got a hug and we chatted about our businesses. His blue eyes, now with 70% less bloodshot, twinkled at me as he drew out another garment bag. I frowned; I knew I hadn't ordered any more new things.

"Bucky told me how you faced down the Joker," he said quietly as he unzipped the bag. "That's a big deal, facing down somebody who's tormented you so much. Congratulations are definitely in order. But I thought that my niece could also use a new dress for the grand opening of her business." He drew out the most glamorous slip dress in a deep green heavy silk satin that used folds in the fabric in an almost origami-like way to create an Art Deco-ish pattern. The thin straps over the shoulders were elegantly shaped, and judicious patterns of beads enhanced the effect. The dress ended several inches above the knee, but a long, jaunty fringe added life and movement while bringing the length down just past the knee. It was a dress for a very modern flapper. He sent me to change, then he and the fitter conferred, deciding that no alterations were necessary.

"Wow," I said reverently, turning in front of the mirrors to see the full effect. Steve and Sonia smiled, and Sonia excused herself to take care of the last payment.

"So Buck's being pretty silent about that warning the Joker gave you," Steve said, folding his arms. I shook my head.

"All he said was that the Joker didn't know who. I don't know whether to believe him," I said. "It would be like Bucky to try to cut me out from the risk." Steve sighed.

"He would have told me before, I know, but now I'm not sure either. Emma's pregnant," he said shyly. "He won't want to drag me into this now that I'm going to have a kid, I don't think." I clapped my hands excitedly over the news, immediately planning yet more knitting projects. I had a favorite pattern for baby booties by now. "And that's another thing I wanted to ask you about. Emma and I would like you to be the godmother. Bucky for godfather, of course."

"I'd be honored," I said.

"After Ragnarok, everything changed," he said, half to himself. "Buck went off on his own. I miss the closeness we had."

"You understand why he had to, don't you?" I asked gently. "Your relationship would have evolved anyway, even without the war. Jobs, new relationships, marriages. And I think you feel that the way you were before the serum that you never would have gotten married, but you don't know for sure."

"Yeah, and I even agree that he has to make his own way in the world. It's just that... we've always had each other's backs, in it to the end of the line. And now there's distance between us. I worry about him."

"Well, when I was back on campus, I can assure you that he was popular with the other students. We used to meet Friday afternoons to decompress after classes, and he was always bringing friends along. And he was popular with the ladies, he dated a lot." I raised my eyebrows at Steve's surprise. "He may be quieter than you remember, but I've been seeing a return to the Uncle Bucky I recognize from Aunt Becca's stories," I assured him. "He's emerging from the shadow of his past life, is what I think. The legacy of the war and then what happened after with HYDRA is large and powerful, and he continued combat throughout his time in Folkvangr. But now he can be at peace and he can become the person he wants to be, rather than what he's told to be." I clenched my fists. "If only the past would just lay down and leave him alone!"

He studied me. "Growing up, I envied Bucky a lot. How easily things came to him, his charisma. But I think what I envy the most now is his relationship with you. You are always on his side, supporting him without an agenda or expectations. It's a very pure love."

I considered that. "Well, to me he's always been my uncle first. That's a lot different from the legend he acquired as a result of the war. I never related to him as the Winter Soldier or a war hero, really, aside from awhile when I was a kid and didn't really think of him as a person at all."

"You're one of the few people to see him as a person, not his actions," he said quietly. "You feel for what he went through, but you don't see him through the lens of what he did. Even I do that sometimes, but then I've got my own guilt about what happened to him on the train." He shook his head. "It's been good for him to have Rebecca and George back, but they've also had to come to grips with what happened, why he's so different."

'From the time I met him, Bucky's just been family. He's almost always taken me seriously, given me good advice. I can recall precisely once when he downplayed my concerns, and after they were shown to be well founded, he never discounted my opinion again. He's had to reel me in when I've gotten in over my head," I said, laughing, "but he's had my back all along." I studied Steve for a moment. "Through college and grad school and marriage, when I was widowed, everything in Valhalla, everything since the return. The thing is, Uncle Steve, situations change, and it's easy to let the force of that change affect other areas of your life. But it doesn't have to change your relationships unless you allow it to." Steve looked startled.

"I never thought of it like that," he said slowly.

"Uncle Bucky's accustomed to reading the terrain quickly and making judgements based on that. He might have felt a distance, thought you were easing into a new life, and widened the gap to make it easier," I suggested. "He's accustomed to people moving on." Leaving him, I almost said, but that wasn't fair. "You might try calling more often, doing things together. See if that's what's happened. If not, just ask him what's going on. Neither of you are mind readers."

"That's good advice," he said. "I'll give that a go."

"Also, keep your eyes out to see if you can set him up," I directed. "He deserves somebody special too, and he's frustrated my matchmaking attempts so far." Steve started to laugh. "I'm serious. He deserves somebody special to come home to, and I know that I was a source of friction between Emma and him at times. I can at least remove that this time around."

His expression softened and he patted my shoulder. "I know about that. Emma herself admitted that she got entrenched in her life, comfortable with her roles, and once it was clear that you and Buck were building a real relationship, she had to acknowledge that she had to share his attention, which she didn't like. And you got along with Natasha, which she didn't like, and other Avengers liked and respected you. She's never really had to share, and she thought of Tony as her personal property in some ways, they had a unique relationship. In many ways, you're similar, and I can see why you'd butt heads. But Buck was definitely the better for getting to know his family, you in particular. It helped him feel normal and needed for himself as a person. I don't think that he talked with Emma about it much, but he didn't like how she was treating you and made her face the consequences of her actions instead of finding out why she felt threatened."

"M'sieur Steve?" One of the other vendeuses stuck her head into the room. "My pardon for interrupting, but you are needed in the atelier." Steve sighed.

"The life of the world famous designer," I said, smiling. "You and Emma are coming to the party, though, aren't you? You'll be able to see my magnificent dress."

"We wouldn't miss it," he assured me, kissing my hair and directing me out. I picked up my clothes, thanked the ladies, and went back to work.

The next few weeks were a rush of activity; I had my own work projects and some joint projects with Serena. In addition, Margaret was gathering information about that neighborhood we might be interested in buying and renovating, all of us working together in the group project. There was planning for the party, which Martha was handling, and we took every opportunity to meet in the conference room because it was so awesome. A few days before the grand opening of the Valkyrie building, she succeeded in hiring a majordomo for the office, a young man whom she'd had Alfred vet. Apparently there was a butlers' professional organization, and Alfred judged whether her choice, one Theodor Bobal, was up to the standard he expected. Additionally, his background check was clean and we borrowed a telepath from the X-Men to make sure he wasn't there to steal information for another party or to discredit our work. The telepath didn't go inside his mind, but worked as a human lie detector. It may sound a little paranoid, what with all the work available and not enough people to do it, but there had been a scandal involving my old firm, which might or might not have been trying to get inside information from a competitor. Litigation was pending.

The grand opening began in the afternoon; all our retail stores did something special for the occasion; for example, the coffee shop had a new drink, the ice cream parlor had a new flavor, other stores had sales or giveaways. As the afternoon sun faded away, the spotlights that Martha had found lit the night sky like a Hollywood premiere and invited guests and the press arrived in addition to curious shoppers. I changed into my supergorgeous dress, sky-high heels, and freshened makeup and hair before collecting my partners. Down in the lobby, I made a short speech about our hopes for the Valkyrie building, thanked everybody for supporting our businesses, and cut into an enormous sheet cake. Each of us took a turn distributing pieces of cake, then Theodor took over and we separated, talking to the press, then moving the party up the stairs, showing off all the lovely attributes of the building before guiding tours around the two floors of Valkyrie's offices and the conference room, where we had sparkling wine for the guests.

Steve and Emma's appearance added wattage to the proceedings, as did Ann and Tony's arrival. Other Avengers made appearances, and although they didn't show up in costume, I noted the arrival of Wonder Woman and Aquaman. My family was also there, and a few Broadway stars and politicians dropped by. Everybody who came seemed to have at least a good time, some seemed to have more fun, and everybody seemed impressed. A hot, up and coming band played a short set and stayed later to shop. And Bucky arrived, escorting pretty brunette who I recognized as the mayor's spokeswoman. She was sharp and lively, her personality providing much of her appeal. He was polite and attentive to her, as I'd expect, but more than that, he seemed into her. Yay! I didn't have much time, but he introduced us and I said I hoped to see her again. When Bucky quickly proposed a weekend lunch, I knew he was interested. We set it up for the next weekend. I pointed out Steve and Emma, kissed my uncle's cheek, and got back to business with a happier heart.

It was a great night.