((chibianimefan26, you scared the crap outta me with the start of that last review! Thank you so much for your review, hope you're enjoying it, fam!

Ussmaple, thank you so much, I hope you didn't cry too hard! Binge reads are always appreciated it.

Karina001 and .2020, thank you again so much for your continued reviews! Ye keep me going!))

((I wasn't going to post this but as it was nearly written, I said I might as well. Consider it a bonus chapter!))

Ten Days Before The Snap.

Very little changed before and after the blissful day that Bucky and Elsa swore themselves to each other in front of the waterfall, in front of their closest friends. Less had changed (aside from the week worth a "honeymoon" that Elsa had secured from work) in the few meagre weeks between their wedding itself and their cruel, forced separation less than a month later.

Honeymoon over, things began to return to a degree of normality. One of those things was the routine phone call about an hour prior to Elsa's arrival home. The first thing to register about the call was not the accent that had become synonymous with infatuation but the howling of the wind catching the microphone of the hands-free set in the jeep. That said, that butterfly-inducing accent quickly followed.

"I'm about half an hour away." The time frame tended to vary, depending on her last work slot and where it happened to be. Automatically, Bucky gravitated to the fridge and pantry in anticipation of the question. "Do we need anything?"

"Uhh…" Surveying the shelves of the fridge, the White Wolf did not notice anything of any great importance missing; nothing that could not wait until the weekly market trip, anyway. Milk… Cheese… Dog food… "No, I think we're okay as far stuff we need."

"And what about stuff we don't need? Because it sounds to me like there's something you want."

"I want you home. With ice-cream."

"That suits me. I need to stop anyway." Naturally, Bucky's forehead creased, and his eyes narrowed. What could she possibly need? They lived on top of each other, in each other's ear, under each other's feet. They tended to cook together and ate more or less the same things (with a few exceptions, he liked things she did not and vice versa; he still couldn't get her to warm to pickles) and shared even more. To that end, Bucky couldn't place what Elsa might need that he had not noticed. So, an inquiry can't hurt, can it?

"What d'you need to stop for?" Without shyness or hesitation, her chirped reply suggested there was no offence taken by it; this inquiry of complete normality.

"Lady things, darling. Feeling a little funny." Ah. She did not specify, so Bucky didn't ask but he could guess; it was, after all, inconsequential. If she needed something of… that nature, she needed it. And while her husband was supportive and caring when the experience was at its worst, he understood that space and rest were often required. Which meant she would ask for assistance when she needed it and Bucky, eager to ease her, would only be too happy to comply; whatever the request.

"You a'right? Am I gonna be callin' dispatch on Monday morning?" A fair query when he had had to do it once or twice before when his (then) girlfriend/partner/fiancé was too ill with her monthly affliction to go to work; the very idea of the jostling of the jeep ironing in her cramps almost vomit-inducing.

"I don't think so, love, no." Well, if she was sure.

"What about wine?"

"No, I think I'll give that a skip tonight. Unless you want it?"

"Nah. It's no fun unless you're drinking it too." Despite it having no impact on him whatsoever, his amusement knew no bounds with what Elsa tended to say and do under the influence; no wonder her strait-laced mess of a family wanted nothing to do with her. Perhaps Elsa's Irish mother had something to do with it, the endearing impishness and playfulness cancelling out her father's suffocation; favourably so.

"Then we're agreed. Do you have dinner started? Or will I pick something up?"

"Not yet, I got kinda distracted. Cody and William were chasing each other and I just… lost track of time. But it was the cutest thing, I wish you'd'a seen it."

"But you took a video?"

"Course I took a video. I'll show you later."

"I can always count on you to document the animals' hijinks, darling. I'll be home soon. I love you. And I'll pick something up."

Bucky had often been puckishly likened to a nosy child (by his wife) and once more lived up to that when she came through the door; but only after claiming his first kiss of the evening did he dive for the shopping bag, of course. Elsa was faster but so taken up with examining the tub of ice-cream, Bucky did not notice.

"You got the good stuff!" Strangely, that joyous exclamation of the superior brand (of course she got the good stuff, she wasn't about to skimp on her husband) was punctuated by the sudden slamming of the bathroom door; perhaps "bathroom" is a stretch. Elsa's arrival-home ritual consisted of: Kiss then bathroom, one following swiftly upon the other; sometimes Bucky having to intercept or meet her en-route to the bathroom. That tiny bladder (like the rest of her), a tea addiction and being jostled about in the jeep for the vast majority of the day tended to accumulate in her scurrying to the loo, first thing, upon her arrival home. That, however, is not the strange part.

"Els?" The ex-Winter Soldier called, stowing the ice-cream before continuing his burrowing and rooting out the hot food that would save them cooking; leaving more time for… something else later."Baby, you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Came the affirmative from the other side of the door. "Just… Give me two minutes!"

"Will I start servin' this up?"

"Uhh… No, love, not yet!"

Unfazed, Bucky dutifully went about unpacking the rest of the bag but found no "lady things" in the process; maybe she already had them, hence her rush to the bathroom. The silence that followed though, did not sit right with the White Wolf. His bubbly little vet was too quiet for too long. Usually, her barrage began the second she bounced into the hut; the barrier of the bathroom door hindering her none. But now… No gossip, no news, no amusing anecdotes from her day. Just… silence. Concerning silence. Enough for the assassin-turned-farmer to start prodding.

"You're not even this quiet when you're asleep." Cody, knowing the time and structure of his day, waited for his dinner while the wafting smell of his parent's food made him tetchy; a signal for Bucky to cave and start getting his beloved mutt's meal ready. "Baby, please don't faint in there, I don't wanna break down the door again."

"I'll try but I can't make any guarantees." Once again, Bucky felt physical confusion (and a little discomfort) ripple and even manifest in his features. Warm carton of spicy potatoes set down (but out of Cody's reach), he traced the familiar steps to the bathroom door under sandaled feet and braced his weight on the frame.

"Els, you sure you're okay? Open the door, just a crack. While you still can." He added in an exasperated mutter, remembering the last time. A few extra seconds taken to flick the lock would have saved a lot of frustration, panic, and worry (as well as the door itself) while Elsa was lying on the floor with Bucky frantically trying to get to her.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine."The tone of the little lioness had changed from the other side of the bathroom door. Her trademark vibrancy strummed with anxiety and edged with a definite blade of impatience; a clear warning to be left alone. However, had concern not clouded him to such a blinding degree, Bucky might have recognized it.

Upon retreating to the kitchenette, the White Wolf busied himself with Cody's dinner but laid it aside until they were ready to eat themselves; Elsa insisted it stopped him begging at the table to eat when they did. Not that it lasted long; food deprivation appeared to have been part of his life before his mother found him and had, unfortunately, stuck. Which led to the poor mutt gorging himself in case the next meal never came.

While spooning the aromatic meat stew out of another carton, Bucky's ears pricked at the disengaging of the bathroom door latch. Before he could turn, mid-debate on whether to give her space or not, the muscular plain between his shoulder blades became the resting place of a cool, damp cheek; along with her arms securing his middle. If that was not enough, the excessive need for closeness (that he knew by now to pair with sadness), the sniffle clenched it for him.

"Nothin' happened at work, you were fine on the phone." The fresh husband, having abandoned his task and manoeuvred to turn without disturbing her position, planted his cheek to the top of a chocolate crown; the forceful rejection of his concern forgotten. "What's goin' on, huh?"

Another sniffle proceeded the loosening fumble of Elsa's arms, the tremble of her lip caused by the production of something emotional; something Bucky dropped his gaze to, and his heart along with it. A similar white stick to the one before; the one that dried the White Wolf's mouth and thinned his lips to a pained grimace while his little vet deteriorated in the background. On it, etched glaringly and tauntingly (though perhaps mercifully for someone else) was one single word that kicked the eldest in the stomach: NEGATIVE.

"Els…" The near physical pain of disappointment harked back to his first encounter with one of these marvels of medical science that the Fist of Hydra would have been unfazed by. Then, he had only mulled the idea of children, casually batting it back and forth with Steve on a run; it was a nice thought, a "maybe", an "if I'm lucky". That first test, though, had turned everything on its head and cemented what he wanted. A definite, exciting plan for the future. She was not the only one affected, far from it, but he had come to realize that it would hit her harder than it would ever hit him; a week or so later would prove it to its devastating maximum. Forcing back the lump in his throat, it became clear he had to be the sensible one. "We're not married a wet month; we don't need to worry about this yet."

"I'm not worried about it!" The smaller of the two objected tearfully before being swallowed to her beloved's chest, where she could unload everything, and he could clutch her like a heartbroken child would clutch a stuffed toy. "I just…! I wanted it! Like I did last time! And I thought…!"

"You said you felt funny."

"Yes!"

"And you didn't want wine, in case you were-"

"Yes!"

"And "lady things" meant a pregnancy test." James Buchanan Barnes learned quickly.

"Yes!"

"Give it to me."

"Why…?"

"So I can put it in the trash where it belongs. Hand it over."

Troublemaker disposed of, Bucky cradled his soul mate closer to his very being and secured her with his only arm crossed across her waist; tucking her head beneath his chin and into his collarbone.

"I love you." The utterance was for her and her alone; his shaggy head dipped to encase her completely to his chest. Of course, she leaned into it to complete the cycle of pure, consoling intimacy. "And, yeah, kids'd be great but… it'll happen. It'll happen when it's ready to happen."

Marry the prettiest girl in Brooklyn: Check. White picket fence: Sort of check. The dog: Check. Barbecues in the backyard: Check, mostly saved for Steve's visits. The only thing missing from the post-war plans were the kids. But Bucky was willing to wait for that particular cornerstone. Absolutely, it would be incredible when it came to be but… time could be taken and enjoyed before it did.

"Gettin' upset with a negative test over every tummy rumble is only gonna hurt you more, Els, the disappointment of it." Said disappointment was and would be mutual, so why make it worse by increasing it? "And… there's a practical side to it." He felt the barest movement under his arm; what he knew by now was Elsa reshuffling to lift her heed to him when he spoke, despite only looking at the darkness of their closeness. "We're gonna need more space, we're gonna need time to add more to what we've got." True.

"And look at it this way…" Relinquishing her just enough for one to see the other, Elsa was treated to that boyish half-grin she adored and could not help but contribute her own in anticipation of what had caused his. "Think it's tight as it is? Imagine Cody and a kid, battling it out for playing space. The place'll be in carnage."

"They'll be best friends…"

"I know. I can't get near you as it is, he'll go into crazy protective overdrive when he does finally get to be a big brother. So I need time to stock up on tennis balls too. You've gotta give me that, Els." The watery smile evoked by Bucky's family (if wonderfully chaotic) imagery served its soothing purpose; much to the White Wolf's relief.

"Alright. I'll try."

Two Days After The Snap.

Steve returned to the King T'Chaka Memorial Wing in time for the dinner rounds; when he knew Elsa would be among the wakeful. But dinner time or not, the little lioness did not feel much like eating; less so when Steve grimly recounted the headcount of the farm. A neighbour stopping in to ensure the remaining animals were alright was one thing, but someone who knew them to assess the domino effect of the Snapped ones was another thing entirely.

"I suppose no donkeys is better than just one." Elsa, resigned, poked at her food with no real intention to eat it; despite how the blonde looked on with dismay. "They're not there to miss each other. But two would have been better. Still… A lonely Mac or Sophie would have died shortly after anyway. They were a bonded pair ever before I found them." Neither opted to explore the significance of the donkeys themselves to the newlyweds; it remained the cruel elephant in the room.

"William's wanderin' around, looking for Connie." The straw that broke the camel's back. The fork in the vet's hand had been little more than a prodding implement, but that revelation sent it clattering forcefully, purposefully thrown, onto the tray; the hand that had relinquished it encased her forehead, covering most of her face in overwrought devastation. Steve, guessing with a twisted gut that he had given one too many details, sat forward and sandwiched his lips with immediate regret. But while he tried to find the words that might lessen such a horrible blow, Elsa got there first.

"I should be at home… I should be with them…! I've known him since the second he was born! Before it! They need me-!"

"Els." Writhing internally with guilt, more so than when he arrived (if that was even possible), for the regression-inducing comment, Steve took it upon himself to be comfortingly firm; imposing himself in her space to do so. Visibly upset, she partially dropped her hand where her lip trembled, and her face had flushed to listen (with the respect of focus and attention) to the unusually grim Captain Rogers.

"You can't go home. Not yet. But when you do, I'm gonna be there for as long as I can." Seriousness unaffected but becoming significantly more tender by the melancholic, comprehending nod, the fairer (and much older) of the two took his friend's hand and gave it the gentlest of squeezes; mindful of the damaged fingers. "You might have to tell me what to do but… I'm gonna try and do all the things Bucky did. It's gonna be okay, Els." Well… Maybe not all the things.

Speaking of Bucky and everything being okay… Or not, as actuality would have it.

"I don't know if Bucky told you, I suspect he did…" Mentally, Steve confirmed it before he knew what it was. His old friend kept virtually nothing (bar, maybe, the more intimate details of his love life for privacy's sake but the jibing remained very much alive) from him, wishing to re-establish that hard-tested Brooklyn trust and to bridge the gap of the several decades they had been without each other. It seemed the image of a distressed William, bleating and baaing in heartbroken incomprehension (as he searched high and low for his mother), had struck a chord with an already downcast Elsa for another reason; one closer to home.

"Tell me what?" The bite of hesitation from the bed suggested a sensitive topic, and the sigh cemented it; enough to inch Captain Rogers towards the edge.

"I suppose he told you that we were, unofficially, trying but not trying, to start a family?" Fully dropping her cupping hand from her cheek to observe the bearded male loyally at her side, Elsa dolefully watcher her companion for a reaction. Did she expect surprise? Not if she knew their relationship the way she thought she did, knew she did. "Not actively trying but not trying not to either?" That information Bucky had parted with on a trail run, yes. With restrained excitement too, in fact. It would have its challenges, of course, and the White Wolf had acknowledged as much for a myriad of factors but… it was one more thing he could do and have that the Winter Soldier could not.

The implication, however, and the apparent direction the conversation meandered in, lit a fire under Steve Rogers. Oh God, is she saying what I think she's saying? Something Bucky didn't get around to telling me?

"Yeah, he told me that but… What're you sayin', Els?"

Yet another blip of reluctance that did not ease Steve in the slightest; exacerbated his dread, if anything, while Elsa carefully chose her words. As carefully as if she warily told her husband, rather than his best friend.

"Before they could x-ray me, they had to determine if I was or was not pregnant." Resigned, but comfortable in the admission and to whom she made it, Elsa sank back in her abundance of pillows and relinquished the distress that had propped her up. Free of the stress and implication they held, she could relax; or try to. "It seems I have fallen prey to the same plague as many a war widow: A broken heart and an empty womb."

What does one say to that? Steve, for all his motivational and inspirational oration on numerous challenging occasions, had nothing. Gallingly, frustratingly, dishearteningly nothing. Food laid aside, the blonde wasn't sure he could blame his friend for the dwindling-to-nothing appetite; not after that harrowing clanger. The same one that prompted the little vet to relapse to downtrodden silence.

"It's gonna be okay." He managed carefully, unsure what else he could offer while wading and picking through the child-like incomprehension. The grasping at consoling straws was not lost on Elsa though the helplessness appeared to be mutual. "I mean… I dunno when and… it'll take some time but… for now, we're just gonna have to take it one day at a time." Distracting himself, Steve re-directed his gaze to the open door of Elsa's hospital room, where he could deduce that dinner trays were being collected. And what comes after dinner?

"Hey. How about some ice-cream?"