Chapter Text
You jolted straight up off the bed, vaguely aware that you were screaming. You felt a hand on your arm, but you were flooded with panic and adrenaline and you couldn't hear or make sense of anything. Slowly, as you tried to catch your breath, things came into focus.
You were in your bedroom in the barn. Steve was rubbing your back. No. Wait. Not Steve. You blinked as you turned to face him.
“Bucky?” You questioned, still feeling disoriented.
“I'm right here, doll. It was just a nightmare,” he said soothingly.
You shook your head a couple times, still trying to lower your heart rate and make sense of things. Bucky was here. Maybe you were still dreaming.
“Buck… you're here?” You whispered as you put your hands on his face to convince yourself.
“It's me, YN,” he assured you. “Just breathe, baby. You had a pretty bad nightmare. Just try to relax.”
Everything was flooding back now, all the events of the day prior, all the pain and heartache. You felt it hit you like a crashing tidal wave.
“I was dreaming about Steve,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and hugging your legs.
“I know. You were calling his name,” Bucky said, continuing to gently rub your back.
You rested your chin and closed your eyes, trying to take deep slow breaths.
“I'm sorry,” you said, almost like a reflex.
Bucky frowned. “For what, babe?” He watched you for a second, confused. “I get nightmares too, you know that. It's okay.”
“That you had to hear me calling his name. I know that probably sucks,” you said as you took another steadying breath.
You heard Bucky softly chuckle, his hand on your back never faltering. “Sweetheart, I've called Steve's name in my sleep. Lots of times. Does it bother you?”
You frowned and turned your head to look at him. “Well, no, but-”
“But nothing, doll,” he cut you off. “He was your husband. You just went through hell. And even if none of that were true, it still wouldn't matter because you were dreaming. I'm not holding that against you.”
You slowly nodded and gave him a small smile, which you assumed he could see despite the darkness. “I used to call your name in my sleep all the time,” you remarked quietly.
Bucky grinned in spite of himself. “Did Steve tell you that?”
“No, back when I was with Strange,” you explained. “As far I know, it stopped before Steve and I got together. Or, at least, he never mentioned it, anyway.”
“I bet you still did. He probably just didn't say anything.”
“You think so?” You asked. “Because he didn't notice or because he's Steve and wouldn't call me out like that?”
You heard Bucky laugh and then he was shifting to sit back against the headboard, gently encouraging you to follow. You did, resting against his side.
“I'm sure he noticed. You talk in your sleep all the time. He was probably just too polite to ever bring it up the next day,” he answered you trailing his fingers up your arm.
“Wait- I talk in my sleep all the time,” you repeated, a little surprised.
Bucky laughed again. “Yeah, babe. No one's ever told you that before? Maybe it's more the serum and how I pick up on every little thing, who knows. But I always just kind of ignored it. Like I said before, I can't hold you responsible for the things your unconscious mind does.”
“Huh… did I ever say anything interesting?” You asked out of curiosity.
You felt him stiffen just a little and stifle another laugh. You lifted your head from his chest to look at his face and he was biting his cheek to hold back a smirk.
“What?” You asked again, a smile tugging at your lips. “If it was something embarrassing, you have to tell me,” you insisted.
“I really don't think you wanna know, doll,” he countered, failing to hide his smirk this time. “Or at least, I don't think you wanna know that I know,” he said more specifically, hoping you would take the hint and let it go.
You giggled quietly. “Oh, come on, what's the worst it could-” but you stopped abruptly when you suddenly remembered something you had long since tried to forget. “... Oh, God…” you barely whispered. You threw your hand over your face, feeling your skin flush with embarrassment.
Bucky laughed, louder this time. “See, this is why I never brought it up. I figured you probably woke up, and if you remembered, you sure as hell wished you didn't. Either that, or I really needed to be more worried about Barton.”
“Okay!” You said sharply. “You made your point, Buck. God, I'm sorry I asked,” you groaned.
There was silence for a couple minutes as you just held each other and listened to the distant sound of the breeze outside. It felt so oddly normal, laying there, surrounded by his familiar scent and the feel of his hands on your skin. It felt like no time had passed; like maybe the last five years had just been a strangely realistic dream.
“I feel like everything feels too normal,” you said quietly. “Like I'm too… happy,” you admitted. “My husband just died. My friend of over a decade just died. I watched my home get demolished. I should be tucked into a corner, unable to move, practically catatonic, drowning in grief.”
You sat up, leaning back a little and wrapped your arms around your body. “What does it say about me that, out of all the things we just went through, the thing I'm feeling the most is just…grateful that you're here, that I got you back?”
Bucky watched you as you contemplated and voiced your concerns. You chewed at your cheek and wrapped your arms tighter around your middle, like you weren't sure whether you needed or even deserved comfort.
If he was being honest, he had been wondering something similar about himself. He wondered if he had been through so much pain and loss in his life that he might be numb to it at this point. Steve was his best friend, his brother, his only real family. He should be unable to think straight after that kind of loss. But he, too, was just feeling appreciative that he was laying here next to you.
He took a deep breath and turned his body so he was facing you. “I think the only thing that really says is that you've been through enough of the bad to know how to appreciate the good. I'm sure it will hit you- hit both of us- eventually, and it'll probably hit hard. Or maybe it'll be in little pieces for a long time. I don't really know, doll,” Bucky reached out and gently tipped your head up with his finger, turning you to look at him. “But I know one thing for damn sure; it doesn't make you a bad person.”
You let his words sink in, begging your subconscious to believe him as you took a slow breath. “Grief isn't linear,” you recited.
Bucky gave you a questioning look. You smiled, unraveling your grip on your torso as you felt sleep calling you again. “It's something Steve used to say,” you explained. “He held a support group after we lost, mostly I think to honor Sam, but also because he couldn't stand not doing something to help all the people that he felt like he failed. He used to tell them that grief wasn't a linear process. We all experience it differently and navigating it looks different for everyone.”
Bucky chuckled, watching you yawn. He scooted closer to you, pulled you into his chest, and laid you both back down on the mattress. “Steve got pretty wise in his old age,” Bucky said quietly, stroking your hair and feeling your breathing get a little slower.
“I'm glad Murdock wasn't here to hear me screaming his name. It would have scared her,” you voiced a thought, half asleep.
Bucky continued to stroke your hair, closing his own eyes. “Murdock?” He repeated, confused for a moment, but it dawned on him quickly. “Is that her name? Our daughter?”
“Mhm,” you softly breathed, barely above a whisper. “Murdock Buchanan Barnes Rogers.”
***
A few hours later, Bucky awoke to the sun streaming in on his face. You were still sound asleep, your back to him. He sat up silently, making sure not to wake you, and slid off the bed. He walked over to the dresser where you had set out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt for him last night and threw the clothes on as he looked around the room, now illuminated by daylight.
He smiled to himself as he recognized paintings of mountains and landscapes that were obviously yours, some of them looked like the ones that used to hang in your room at the compound. There were pictures of you and Steve and Murdock, on various trips, it seemed.
He moved silently through the room, taking it in, and paused near the door. There was a picture of you and Steve on your wedding day. He couldn't help but smile, you both looked so genuinely happy. But right next to it, there was another picture, one that surprised him. It was you and him on your wedding day, a snapshot from your first dance. You were laughing and he was smiling down at you.
That's when he realized you meant it when you said you had always loved him, that you hadn't just tucked him away and forgot about him when you fell for Steve. And more than that, he realized just how much Steve had loved you both to be willing to share your heart the way he did. That, and, he thought with an internal laugh, Steve obviously wasn't the jealous type.
Either way, Bucky was grateful and a bit humbled. Steve really had been the best man he ever knew. His loss would echo for a long time.
Bucky took a deep breath, pulling himself back to the present and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He headed to the kitchen, realizing he didn't actually know when the last time either of you had eaten was, and decided he would try and make breakfast.
He was scrambling eggs on the stove when he turned around and on the other side of the breakfast bar there was a pair of pale blue eyes staring back at him. He froze, fighting the instinct to grab a weapon, and willing his mind to recognize that the little girl was not a threat.
There was silence for a few heartbeats, before Bucky finally realized he was the adult and he needed to say something.
“... Hi,” he said quietly, giving her a nervous half grin. “I'm, uh… do you know who I am?”
Murdock stared back for a moment before her face broke out in a wide grin and she giggled. “Of course I do! You're Bucky. You're my dad!”
Before his mind could register what was happening, she ran around the bar and threw her arms around his legs in what was a surprisingly strong hug for someone so small. Bucky felt like he was in shock for a moment before it slowly melted and then he was sinking to the ground and pulling his daughter into his arms. He felt tears stinging his eyes and he fought to hold them in.
“I'm so glad you came back,” Murdock said, pulling back a little so she could look at Bucky.
“Me too, sweetheart,” Bucky said, reaching out to tuck some of her dark hair behind her ear.
Murdock looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, tilting her head. She reached out and put her little hand on his face and Bucky's smile got impossibly wider.
“You look like me,” she observed, tapping next to his eyes and grabbing a lock of his dark hair.
Bucky laughed. “I think technically you look like me,” he teased.
He smelled the eggs in the pan starting to burn and he leapt to the stove, cursing under his breath. He grabbed them off the burner and Murdock giggled again.
“Language,” she chided, continuing to giggle. She put her hands on her hips and gave him a raised eyebrow.
Bucky stared at her and for a moment she was the 3 foot female reincarnation of Steve. He couldn't help but laugh.
“You're right, I need to watch my language,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Don't tell your mom, okay?”
Murdock nodded her head and came over to him by the stove. “I can keep a secret,” she said proudly. She grabbed a little stool and stepped up on it so she could reach a loaf of bread and began taking out slices.
“Papa and I keep secrets all the time,” she added as she deftly loaded the bread into the toaster and turned it on.
Bucky smiled as he watched her. She was grabbing the butter dish and setting it on the breakfast bar.
“Oh yeah? Is Papa what you call your dad?” He asked absently.
*No, silly, he's Daddy. Papa is Papa,” Murdock explained, or at least she thought she did, leaving Bucky puzzled, but nodding.
“So, what do you call me, then?” He asked as he was dividing the eggs onto three plates.
He set the plates down on the bar. Murdock laughed as he swooped her up and into one of the chairs. She grabbed her fork and tapped it thoughtfully on her chin.
“We just called you my dad, Bucky,” she said with a shrug.
“Guess we'll have to think of something,” Bucky said quietly as he watched her stab her eggs will shocking precision for a four year old.
He spotted a coffee maker near the fridge and darted over to get it started. “You want something to drink, Murdock? I'm assuming you don't like coffee,” he said, turning to look at her with a smirk.
“Oh, no, she loves coffee,” you answered him as you entered the kitchen, tying your hair back and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Another thing I can thank her Papa for,” you remarked with an eyeroll. “But how about some juice today, okay?” You stopped behind her chair and she tilted her head back to look at you.
“Okay, Mommy,” she agreed. “I helped my dad make breakfast,” she said proudly.
“I can see that. That's great, little love,” you replied. You kissed her forehead and she went back to eating her eggs.
You walked around the bar to grab the toast that had popped up, buttering a piece and setting it on Murdock's plate. You turned back around and Bucky was handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled gratefully and accepted the mug.
“Who's Papa?” He whispered while Murdock was distracted with her toast.
“Clint,” you whispered back with a smile. “Papa and Gamma. Her grandparents, as far as she knows.”
Bucky nodded, not sure how he felt about his daughter having Clint for a grandad, but keeping his opinions to himself. Your eyes darted to Murdock again for a second, but she was still happily eating her breakfast. You leaned in closer to Bucky, dropping your voice to where you knew only he could hear.
“She doesn't know about the baby. Nobody does except Clint,” you whispered.
Bucky's eyes darted to his daughter before he leaned over to whisper back. “Did Steve know?”
You nodded. “Yes, but I don't want to tell everyone just yet. Is that okay?”
“Of course, love,” he said, instinctively going to wrap his arm around your waist, but he froze, realizing those tiny blue eyes were watching you both again. He cleared his throat and you looked back toward your daughter.
“Where's Daddy? Is he still sleeping?” She asked, calm and innocent.
Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a ringing in your ears. You weren't ready for this conversation. You probably never would be. But you knew the longer you put it off, the worse it would be. You tried to swallow but your throat felt dry and you couldn't get any words to form.
“He's not here right now, sweetheart, sorry,” Bucky stepped in and replied. He was pouring her a cup of orange juice and walking over to hand it to her.
“Oh, okay,” Murdock replied, not seeming to think much of the response. “Thanks, Dad,” she said as she took the cup from his hand.
Bucky thought he felt his heart stop for a moment. “You're welcome, sweetheart,” he replied quietly, watching her grin up at him as she took a drink.
You regained your composure and walked over to join them, taking Murdock's empty plate and putting it in the sink. “Murdock, is Auntie Kate awake?” You asked her as you sat down and forced yourself to eat something, trying to remain calm.
“I don't know,” she replied with a shrug. “I can wake her up,” she declared, hopping down from her chair. She was at the door in a flash.
“Hey, make sure you tell Friday to tell Kate you're at the door and then wait for her to let you in, understood?” You called to your daughter as she was opening the door.
“Understood,” Murdock replied and then the door was closing.
“She can normally come and go from Kate's as she pleases, but I sent Peter to stay with her last night. I don't want to scar my four year old,” you told Bucky as he sat down next to you.
Bucky laughed. “Do you think something happened with the two of them”
“I don't know, but better safe than sorry,” you said with a weak smile. “Murdock will be occupied meeting Peter for the first time and I'm guessing she'll probably con her way into getting Kate to make her pancakes. Which means I probably have about half an hour to figure out how I'm gonna tell her Steve is gone,” you said, slumping forward with your head in your hands.
Bucky turned to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into his chest.
“I'm so sorry, baby,” he tried to soothe you.
“We've always prepared her for the possibility that one or both of us might not come home someday,” you said as you picked your head up off his chest. “But that doesn't make this any easier.”
“I know, love,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Do you want me to do it?” Bucky offered, feeling in no way prepared but knowing that was part of the territory now, as a parent, having to do things he was not entirely sure how to do.
You smiled, grateful that he would be willing to do that, but shook your head. “Her first memory of you can't be you telling her that her dad is never coming back. That would make this transition so much harder.”
“What about Clint? He would probably do it if you asked,” Bucky suggested.
You sighed. “No, it has to be me.”
You stood from the chair, straightening your spine and trying to prepare yourself. “I'm gonna get dressed and then I'll take her for a walk so it's quiet and just the two of us. You can either wait here or go up to the house with Clint and Laura,” you offered.
“Friday, do you still have Sergeant Barnes’ biometrics stored?”
“Yes, miss,” the AI confirmed.
“Can you add them to the residence and reactivate them across all systems, please?”
“Certainly, Agent Rogers.”
Bucky gave you a sad smile. “You took his name,” he commented quietly.
You smiled back, a little apologetic. “Yeah, but I kept yours too, Buck. I promised I would,” you assured him.
“Maybe you better go up to the house while we're gone,” you said on second thought. “She'll probably want to see Clint after I tell her. They're very close and I think she'll need him.”
Bucky nodded. “Alright,” he agreed, getting out of his chair.
You stopped him in front of the bedroom door, putting a hand on his chest. “Bucky, I don't know how this is going to go,” you cautioned. “She seems to have learned much more patience from Steve than you or I ever had, and she's very smart for her age, so there's a good chance she'll understand and just go through the grief like the rest of us. But if that doesn't happen, if she's angry and irrational about it, then you have to be prepared to give her space while she grieves. You might have to stay with Clint for a while.”
Bucky nodded his head. “I get it, babe. It's alright. We'll take it as it comes.”
***
Bucky was sitting on the porch, anxiously tapping his leg and nursing a cup of coffee. Clint sat across from him, watching him shift and clear his throat every few minutes.
“Try to relax, man,” Clint finally said. “Giving yourself a panic attack isn't going to make this any easier.”
Bucky grit his teeth and fought the urge to tell Clint to stick his advice right up his ass. He knew he would have to reign things like that in now that he had a four year old watching and learning and he figured now was as good a time as any to start practicing.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if she blames me? What if she hates me for coming back when Steve didn't?” He finally voiced the concerns that had been coursing through him for the last hour.
Clint sat forward, nodding his head. “I get it. Those are valid concerns. Frankly, either could happen,” Clint acknowledged. “But, did YN blame you for what happened to Steve?”
“No. I still can't figure out why, but she didn't,” he replied.
“And think about this; if she had jumped and Steve had been here when you came back, would he have blamed you?”
Bucky gave a humorless chuckle. “Steve didn't have the ability to blame anyone but himself for anything.”
“Right. And that's the guy that's been raising your daughter for the past four years; that same self sacrificing dumbass who dove off a cliff to bring you back to her,” Clint pointed out. “She's learned a lot from him. Including, if I had to guess, the ability to see that you're not the reason her dad is gone. Just have some faith.”
Bucky cracked a tiny smile. “Yeah, maybe you're right,” he conceded, but he gave Clint a warning look. “But don't let that go to your head. I still don't love the idea that my daughter thinks you're her grandpa.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “I miss Steve,” he grumbled, but there was amusement in his eyes.
Before Bucky could respond, both men snapped their attention to you and Murdock as you approached the porch. They stood up and walked to the stairs to meet you. Murdock looked up, eyes locking on Clint and immediately rushed into his arms. Clint picked her up, holding her tight to his chest. Bucky's heart squeezed at the sight, wishing he could be the one offering her comfort.
“Daddy's not coming home,” Murdock whispered into Clint's chest through tiny sobs.
“I know, squirt, I know,” Clint whispered back as he stroked her hair.
Murdock turned her head and Bucky saw fat tears streaming down her pink cheeks and he thought his heart might shatter. He sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm and he felt you slip your hand into his. He turned to look at you, your face also tear stained.
Clint walked Murdock to the other end of the porch and sat down with her in the swing. He rocked her gently as he spoke to her, soft and calm, though they were out of earshot now.
Bucky went back and slumped into the chair he had been in. You took a seat on the arm next to him, rubbing his shoulders.
“Please tell me she doesn't hate me,” he said just above a whisper.
“Remember who raised her, Bucky,” you said, trying to smile just a little. “She knows this wasn't your fault. If nothing else, she knows how much Steve loved you. She could never hate you.”
Bucky couldn't fight it anymore and a few tears managed to slip out. He kept watching Murdock and Clint across the porch and he reached out to grab your hand where it sat on his shoulder. Murdock sat up in Clint's lap and you saw him look over at you and Bucky and then back to her as he spoke. A moment later she was climbing out of the swing and coming toward you.
Bucky watched her approach, trying and failing to stem the tears. Murdock came up to him, her own face still wet, and they watched each other for a heartbeat. Then she was climbing up to settle in his lap, tucking her face into his chest and wrapping her arms firmly around him.
Bucky choked on a sob, whether of grief or relief, he couldn't tell. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, kissing the crown of her head softly. You watched, feeling more tears coating your face as they held each other and cried.
“I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. “I wish your daddy was here with you. I really do.”
“It's okay,” she whispered back.
You saw his eyes open, surprised at her response and you gave him a small smile.
“You're my dad too and you're here now. I'm not alone,” she said firmly.
You reached out and brushed her hair from her face. “You're not alone,” you repeated just as firmly.
“You'll never be alone, Murdock,” Bucky promised. “And I love you.”