Chapter Text
There was a woman’s voice traveling through the air, the static in it causing a hitch as she spoke.
“Doctor Edwards to the ER.”
She repeated her sentence, and then fell silent, the normal voices, talking and conversation being the only background noise. You sat in a plastic chair that was way too uncomfortable to be in a hospital, your feet crossed at the ankles and legs stretched out before you. Blue scrubs still covered your body, even after a grueling 36 hour shift. Your muscles pulled at you, eyelids drooping as your mind screamed at you to rest. But your stare remained fixated, even though you weren’t exactly sure what you were looking at.
“Please don’t tell me you’re still here.”
Moving your eyeballs was harder that you thought as you turned your head to look at Clint, who was wearing identical clothes as yours, arms crossed in front of him, a look of disappointment on his face that gave you an eerie feeling of a child being scolded by their parent.
You gestured to yourself to show him that you were, in fact, still there. A silent sarcastic comment. That’s all you had energy for.
“I have to see her.” You added when he continued looking at you like you were a misbehaving toddler.
Clint sighed and shook his head, walking over to the chair that was digging into your already aching back. He took his place beside you, head tilting backwards until it connected with the wall behind you. He stared up at the ceiling.
“You have to trust me to take care of your mom. I’ve been doing this for years. Besides, Strange won’t let anything happen to her if he can help it.”
If he can help it.
The possibility of there being nothing Strange could do seemed to be the only thing that stuck in your mind from what Clint said. You knew there was a very good chance she wasn’t going to make it. A malignant brain tumor didn’t leave a lot of room for hope.
“Still have to see her, though.” was the only thing you said, struggling to keep your eyes open. You couldn’t let them shut because you were sure you wouldn’t be able to open them again if you did.
Clint just sighed, knowing there was no reasoning with you. He understood your concern very well. This was your mother they were dealing with. You weren’t exactly going to up and leave her here, even when you were tired beyond belief.
“When does your dad get here?” He asked instead.
You looked down at the watch strapped to your wrist. “His plane will land in 3 hours.”
It had been easier to get your mom from India to America considering how sick she was and needed quick medical care. Your dad, however, was harder to get here. The Visa company caused too many problems and it had been a lot of screaming into phones and visiting agencies to finally get him a flight here. You knew for a fact that there would be a lot more crap that you would have to deal with once he landed, but you didn’t want to think about that currently.
You had come to America when you were just eighteen years old after spending almost a lifetime trying to convince your parents to let you go. The idea of you moving across the world wasn’t exactly something they were on board with, but after much pestering and emotional blackmail, they finally let you go. It was only when your education and career here flourished that they admitted they had made the right decision.
Nevertheless, your parents were adamant about staying in India, something about refusing to leave the country they were born in. It was only now, when your mother was in dire need of a very advanced level of healthcare, that they finally gave in.
You sighed, letting your eyes fall shut when you couldn’t keep them open any longer. Your mother’s travel all the way here might prove fruitless if Dr. Strange and his team of residents found that the cancer in her brain was incurable. You had been in the profession for too long. You knew how cases like this worked. But despite the slim chances, you couldn’t help but cling on to the little bit of hope that modern medicine offered.
In any other circumstance, you would have labeled the hope as delusion. But with your own mother on the line, you would take whatever you got.
………………..
She was smiling at you, a soft twitch of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. You wanted to scream.
It wasn’t fun watching a family member strung up with tubes and wires all around them, despite how much of that you saw daily in your patients. You reached forward to push her hair back from her face, making her eyes flutter a bit as she breathed.
“Did they get the test results?” She asked.
You shook your head. “Not yet. They will soon.”
She nodded slightly, closing her eyes for a brief second. Her eyes met yours again as your vision clouded with tears.
“Jaan,” she cooed, the term of endearment slipping from her lips as she squeezed your hand. You sniffed. “It’s okay. It’s okay if I live and it’s okay if I die. I’ve had a good life, a happy life.” Her eyes flickered as her face fell. “My only worry is you.”
You sighed and shook your head, smiling slightly. “Don’t worry about me. I have a good life too. Great friends, a job that I love doing-”
“Yet you have no one to share it with.”
You sighed, closing your eyes. You knew this was coming. No matter how much the world was changing, your mother still stuck to old values and traditions with an iron grip. “Mom-”
She shook her head as much as her breathing tube would allow. “You don’t understand, Y/N. You’re nearly 35. And you’re still not married. I don’t care about times changing. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” You tried to keep your voice from raising. Your mother was in a hospital, about to find out her fate, yet she still couldn’t stop herself from mentioning marriage. “I don’t need a guy to make me happy. I do that for myself.”
“And I love that about you.” She finished. “But I want to see you have everything that you can. It’s all okay for you right now, but in a few years, you’ll start to feel lonely.”
It was the same thing over and over, the exact same lines, the same reasoning. You shook your head silently, feeling defeated. Despite your mom only wanting what was best for you, it just seemed to make your mood worse.
“Your father and I have been looking,” she continued. “and we found a wonderful young man. His father is Indian too. But he lives here. Very successful and charming-”
“Mom. No.”
“He comes from a great family. Kind people, very nice-”
“I’m not going to marry someone I don’t even know.” You said, one hand reaching up to rub at your temple, trying to ward off the headache that was forming.
“We gave you that chance.” She replied. “For years we’ve watched you date men to try and find the right one, and it hasn’t worked. Now it’s our turn.”
You let out an incredulous laugh, standing up. “No, it’s not! You can’t make this decision for me.”
Your mother sighed. “Y/N, you and I both know what those test results will be.” Her eyes swam with tears. “I won’t live long enough to meet my grandchildren but at least I can live long enough to see you married.”
You shook your head furiously, feeling tears form in your eyes.
“No. You can’t do that. You can’t use this against me.”
“It’s the truth. It’s why I’m rushing into this.”
She turned her head to the black purse on the sofa against the wall, nodding at it.
“His number is in there. Just talk to him, honey. Please.”
You gritted your teeth, knowing you weren’t going to get out of this. An idea slowly formed in your head as you eyed the purse.
Maybe you should just talk to whoever this guy was. Explain to him that you didn’t want to marry him but also didn’t want to let your parents down. Then, he can refuse the marriage and you wouldn’t have to bear your mother’s disappointed stare. It would appear that you tried to make it work. Your mother wouldn’t be able to complain anymore.
You nodded to her as you slowly walked over to the purse, unzipping it. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
The smile on your mother’s face almost made you wish you hadn’t lied to her about this.
……………….
“So you just said yes?” Nat’s mouth was full as she spoke, making you want to tell her to not talk. But you needed to know her opinion. You hummed, pushing some food around your plate. Normally, you weren’t repulsed by hospital cafeteria food. But today, you couldn’t find an appetite for it.
“So that’s it? You’re actually going to marry this guy?”
You gave her a ‘are you crazy?’ look. “Didn’t I just tell you about my plan?”
Nat snorted, leaning back. “Ah, yes. Him disagreeing to the marriage. That’s totally gonna work.”
You quirked an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone. “Look. He lives here in America as well. Chances are, he doesn’t want to get forcibly married either. If he finds out both of us are against this, this marriage is done for.”
“And what makes you think he’ll just say no to his parents when you can’t even say no to yours?”
You gritted your teeth. “Because his mother isn’t on her death bed.”
Nat stayed silent at that, resorting to turning back to her food.
“So you have his number?”
You nodded, reaching into your pocket to pull out the little yellow post-it note your mother had put the number on.
“Might as well call him and set up a date.” Nat continued, making you nod slowly. You were already regretting your agreement to this. Furiously typing the number into your phone. You were about to save it to your contacts when you froze,staring at the name that had popped up next to the number. You couldn’t save the number, it was already saved.
Dread filled you, making your brain freeze. You didn’t know how else to react, just staring at the name.
Nat seemed to realize that something was wrong, frowning at your frozen state.
“What is it?”
Silently, you turned the phone around so she could look. She stared at it for a moment, trying to place why you’d reacted like that. You turned around the piece of paper with the number on it so she could compare. Her eyes widened, a hand coming up to her mouth in shock as she realized whose number it was, finally realizing what the name on your screen meant.
Bucky.