#And his pregnant wife from 30 years ago in the other trouser leg

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[that-buckley-gal]

Powerless - Chapter Fifteen

January 19, 1945

I’ve been slowly learning to handle my powers during the past six months. The big reveal came when a fire broke out in Howard’s lab and I somehow managed to keep it contained until everyone else could put it out with fire extinguishers. Steve, Bucky, and Peggy got the full history – with my father’s letters backing me up – while everyone else got a simple “My dad had powers too”.

I wasn’t allowed out on missions with the Commandos, not that I minded, as I wasn’t sure how long it would take for my still-incoming powers to develop and for me to learn to control it. Instead, Howard elevated me to be a full-time assistant for him and I loved it as mundane as it sounded.

 My schedule was pretty flexible as things were constantly changing around base. One day I could be filling out orders for things that Howard needed, and the next I’ll be making observations of his experiments. Other days I’d be with Peggy, who taught me more fighting styles and how to shoot a gun as well as sneak around in case the occasion ever called for it. Bless her. Steve and Bucky also weren’t strangers to my growing skill set either. Once, as a joke, Bucky tried to scare me, and he ended up on the floor with my elbow digging into his side. Howard witnessed the whole thing and was proud for “hiring” me as his assistant because I could also double as a bodyguard if the occasion ever called for it. Of course, when he’d start to joke around about me protecting him, I’d shut him up by flinging my shield at him, and would always grin when it came back to me after bouncing off the wall. At the end of those days though, I would usually go home to Bucky, if the Commandos weren’t on a mission, and would cuddle up to him. Nights in were spent in the kitchen, Bucky trying to learn how to cook from me, even though I wasn’t a master chef myself. Cleaning up after dinner has become something we do together as well though sometimes I’d kick him out after he gets water and suds everywhere trying to have a “water fight”. Some nights we’d go out and watch a movie, or even dancing at the local club. Occasionally we’ll both go drinking in the pub, and Bucky will end up carrying me home after about an hour. It’s really sweet how he takes care of me.

I can’t hold my liquor very well. And instead of nursing my hangover one morning, I stumbled down to meet Peggy for our morning run. Not even thirty feet into it, did I have to stop and get sick in a bush. Peggy immediately cornered me and hinted at me being pregnant, which led to a conversation between Bucky and I that I surprisingly didn’t mind. The conclusion was that we were going to wait until after the war ended before even thinking about trying to have a baby. If we had one now, when times were so uncertain and the base always being in a hustle and bustle, well, it would be extremely hard to keep him or her safe. And even if I went home, what would Bucky do? He’d still be here with his team. So we were going to wait, and I didn’t mind. Throughout the year, as I grew to be more physically and mentally stronger, Bucky began to confide in me about his time as a P.O.W. for Hydra and the work that they had to do in the factories. At first, I was horrified and wished he hadn’t spoke a word about it, but when I could actually see that the weight he seemed to be carrying was lifted, I began to listen more closely. There was nothing I could say, the damage had already been done, so I listened and empathized. I squeezed his hands and allowed him to shed silent tears of his frustration and hated for Hydra. I let him know he was okay and safe now. For our wedding anniversary, we took the weekend off and went back to the United States where I got my name legally changed from Rogers to Barnes. - Thursday night in the Barnes apartment was pasta night – something Peggy and Steve frequently popped in for, for dinner. And since Bucky and I usually overdid it when it came to these nights, we would be crashed out until 8:30-9:00 or so instead of our usual 7:00-7:30 wake up. Nobody bothered us either. “Hey! Guys – I’m sorry to intrude, but you have to get up now! Phillips wants to see us, immediately!” Steve loudly spoke, though I barely heard it in my sleepy daze. Peeking my eyes open, I could see he turned on the light and groaned while Bucky didn’t even move next to me. I rolled over to face the clock to see it 6:18 in the morning. “Steve!” I groan. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know what time it is?” “Yes! I – come on! You guys! Wake up!” Steve said and pulled the covers off. The brisk morning air immediately froze my exposed legs and I curled into the fetal position to try and preserve my warmth. Bucky stirred slightly but then snored loudly. That man could sleep through anything. “Bucky!” He said pinching his friend’s ankle, which made Bucky kick at him before shooting up and glaring at him. “What is it?” Bucky grumbled. Steve only smirked at his tired friend before giving me his eagle-eye stare. I grudgingly sit up as well. Steve cleared his throat. “Colonel Philips wants to see us at once. He called for a meeting that will start at 6:45, sharp. It’s important.” I roll my eyes and wave my hand at my brother. “We’re up and will be there. Now go.” Steve saluted and walked out of the room without picking up our blankets or even turning off the light. “That guy is such a punk,” Bucky grumbled once more before getting up. He grabbed the blankets and tossed them on me before walking out of the room. Laughing quietly, I yawn and lay back down. Instead of letting myself fall back asleep, I stretch out, imaging myself as a starfish and that my limbs were moving freely in the water before finally getting out of bed. I throw on a pair of green trousers that Peggy got me along with a matching shirt. I didn’t have to dress up in front of the Commandos or Steve. I pull on my winter coat and gloves before going to meet Bucky in the door way as he got ready in the bathroom. Doe-eyed, the two of us walk hand in hand down to a car that Bucky drove. Ten minutes later, we found ourselves the last ones to arrive at the meeting, Bucky taking a seat whilst I went for some coffee. The colonel then began to explain the mission. Without having to ask, I make a cup for Howard and give it to him silently before doing the same for the Colonel, who nodded his head in thanks as he continued on. I carefully hand out coffee to the Commandos and Peggy before finally taking a seat to my husband’s left. I always admired how the Commandos and co. always managed to draw out these elaborate, detailed plans of how they were going to get the job done. Towards the end of his briefing, the Colonel announced the Commandos were to leave at 0800 hours and, if effective, be back by nightfall. He then dismissed everyone, and Steve said they’d rendezvous at 0745 at the base entrance. Bucky and I go back home where he gets ready for his mission while I fix a quick but filling breakfast for him. As we eat, I slowly let my fingers dance around his hand before I finally remove his wedding band and attach it to my necklace – which was really his chain and dog tags. After his first mission, he said one of the enemies commented on his being married and threatened to kill me, even though they had no idea who I was, and that, as much as he wanted to, he shouldn’t wear his ring on missions anymore. “Not only that, but what if I get shot at, and the bullet hits the ring instead?” He said. “Well, then, you’d have a really angry wife. And a messed up hand,” I replied. We go downstairs at 7:30, and before he can leave, I pull him in for a kiss. It was similar to way I kissed him before he was shipping out to England. Full of love, and sorrow, and words unsaid out loud. A thousand promises wrapped into one. “I love you,” I whisper as his head rested on top of mine. “Be safe. Come home.” “I love you, Madison Nicole,” he whispered back, lips grazing my forehead. “And don’t worry, I will.” As he’s going out the door, I stop him once more. “Hey…um. When you come home, I really need to talk to you about something.” “Of course,” Bucky smiled. “Let’s see…I’ll be home by nightfall? Let’s talk over dinner. Ooh, make something with pasta.” I smile. “You know I will. Just be there, okay?” Bucky frowned at me. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…messing around with you,” I said weakly. Bucky didn’t look convinced, and from his expression, I knew he was thinking about my dark place even though I haven’t been there in over a year. “You should go now, babe. I am fine, okay? Whatever I have to say can wait until tonight. I promise.” Bucky smiled finally and nodded his head. “Okay. I love you.” I watched him leave the building and run into the car that Steve and Peggy were already in. I wave at the car and watch it disappear in the snowy distance.

 Since Peggy was being Agent Carter today, I decided I would do Howard’s paperwork in his lab. Both of us there would drastically slow down my progress since Howard constantly asked for food or coffee or my opinion on his thoughts, but neither of us minded. Howard was my best friend after Peggy. It was nearing 6:42 now and still there was no word from Peggy on when the boys were headed home. Since pasta took only 8 or so minutes to cook, I asked Peggy to give me a heads up so I can go home and cook before Bucky got there. “So… Howard,” I start as I start to skim through another order request from Colonel Philips. “What’s up?” He asked. He looked up from the papers I needed him to sign. I grinned at the ink stain on his lip caused by his chewing on the pen before looking towards his file cabinet. “How’s your progress going on the whole super-soldier serum?” I asked. “Uh. Not so good,” Howard admitted. “Huh? Why’s that?” “I don’t have anymore of Steve’s blood to observe, remember? I asked you two weeks ago if you could ask Steve to donate another vial or two for my research.” “Did you?” I ask and think back to two weeks ago. “I’m sorry, Howard. But I can’t seem to recall this situation.” “Hey – don’t get too down, kid. It’s not that important. You can always ask when they come home tonight, yeah?”

 I wouldn’t have to if I just fessed up to having my own large vial of the original serum back in Brooklyn. But something tells me now is not the time to bring it up. And instead I simply smile at my boss and say I could and would ask Steve later tonight. We get back to work. Sometime later, there was a knock on the door before Steve came in. I didn’t pay him much attention because I was finishing my last order for the night, and instead called out “Hey Steve!” As I finish scribbling a few numbers down, I glance up to see Steve staring at me with a blankly sorry look on his face. I look at Howard to see him looking between Steve and I. “Steve? What is it?” I ask. His eyes soften and he looks down abruptly causing me to stand up. “Where’s Bucky?” I glace back at Howard to see he seemed to realize something I didn’t as he excused himself and fled the room. “Madi…” Steve started. He cleared his throat. “You should take a seat.” Suddenly afraid, I take a seat and watch as Steve paces before he comes and takes a seat in front of me. He doesn’t look me in the eye as we sit in this tense, awkward silence, and I just say his name again. “Steve?” “We were on the train,” he started and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. Something bad happened, that much I knew. But what was it? “Gabe was making his way to the control car from the top while Bucky and I went down below. “There wasn’t anybody down where we were, so… We continued on and Bucky crept forward into another car while I stayed behind as cover, but then this door shut and then three soldiers popped out of nowhere on Bucky’s side while a machine came to life in mine. Well, I fought it, and when I checked back in on Buck, I saw that he had no more ammo left. I opened the door and tossed him another one and we took out the last soldier. “However, before we could catch our breath, the robot-thing I was fighting powered back up and shot at us. I pushed him out of the way and held up the shield to block it, you know? It did nothing but create this big hole in the side of the train and throw me off balance. “It was getting ready to fire again, but I wasn’t quick enough getting up. So, Bucky grabbed the shield and shot at the robot with his gun, and the robot shot at him. He wasn’t strong enough to take the blow. He flew back and out the side of the train. “I threw my shield at the thing and it fell down so I ran over to see if Bucky was okay and he was holding on to the train. When I realized I could save him, I climbed onto it and tried to reach out and grab him, but…the handrail he was holding on broke off and he fell down. He’s gone, Mads.” The tears that had started halfway through the story began to come out like rain. My heart hurt so bad; I think it hurt just a little more than it did when my mom died. Why? It was so unexpected. I curl into myself as the tears continue. Ugly sobs make themselves known, and I can’t find the will to make myself stop. “I am so sorry, Madison,” Steve says. I can hear the pain in his voice, but I don’t – can’t – bring myself to look at him. I just shake my head and I can hear his chair scrape against the ground and his footsteps approach me. “Don’t,” I sob as I look at the ground. “Steve – please. I just – I can’t even look at you right now…” “I’m sorry, Madison,” he said softly this time before I heard him leave. With him gone, I push my neat piles of paper to the floor and rest my arms on the table, burying my face into them. A million and one thoughts rang through my mind, to just this morning when we were talking about pasta and my important talk. Ugh! I wish I’d told him sooner; maybe he wouldn’t have gone. After a while, I begin to pick up the mess I made during a mini freak out I’d had where I’d strewn papers in random directions, only the papers on my desk. Even in my grief-stricken rage, I knew messing up Howard’s papers and projects would be an awful thing to do. Once the papers are all organized, I take a seat at the table once more. My eyes read over the last paper I signed, wondering how I could be so carefree then and then have my world turned upside down in another moment. It just did not make sense. A soft knock on the door broke me from my thoughts, and I stared at the door wondering who it could be, but making no other move to find out. The door opened after a second knock and I see Peggy standing there. She attempts to smile, but I avert my eyes. “Oh, Madison,” she sighs. I hear her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches me. I can’t seem to get myself together quickly enough to tell her to just leave me alone. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug on her end and I feel myself starting to get choked up again. I rest my head on her, feeling more tears. “I am truly sorry for your loss, my girl,” she whispered into my hair. “But you are strong, and I know that you can get through this.” I nod my head, and let Peggy hold me for another few minutes. “I just…I wish he knew,” I choke out. “He does now,” Peggy said. She knew what it was I needed to talk to Bucky about. She was the one who came with me to get my pregnancy test done. “I suppose,” I mumble. Peggy relaxes her grip slightly and I know that Steve needs her more that I do. I might’ve lost my husband, but Steve lost his best friend as well. “Have you seen Steve yet?” “Not yet, I wanted to see how you were first.” “Thank you, Peg. He probably needs you more though…they were friends since before I was even born.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure, go. It’s okay,” I assure my friend. She gives me another quick squeeze before taking her leave. Another however-long-it-is passes by before I can get up and walk around the room. I go to the bathroom and wipe away the tearstains and smeared makeup. I splash several handfuls of cool water on my face to help the redness in my face go away. “I am okay,” I tell myself. “I will be fine.” I write out a few notes for Howard for what he does with the papers, as well as apologizing because I don’t think I would be in for a few days and that I hoped he understands. I finish up what I’m doing, and pack up my bag and slip on my coat and get a ride home, where I don’t even feel the urge to put together something to eat. I find my way to the room where I peel off almost all my clothes and use one of the ones on the floor as a PJ shirt. Crawling into bed, I lay on Bucky’s side praying that this was all some twisted dream and that Bucky would come home in the middle of the night and wake me up.