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Dr. Amanda Reyes had been vetted three times before she was even allowed to do anything else: one by her own hospital administration, another by the American Pediatrics Association, and the last by an unknown representative from the “government” who asked her to sign a mountain of NDAs before advising her to be “normal” about the fact that her house would be surveilled any time for “documentation and safety purposes.”
She’d been a pediatrician for more than twenty years. Had checked more than a thousand babies, some of them with considerably more “pedigree” than others, if their parents were to be believed.
None of them could prepare her for the folder that landed on her desk with a small “A” at the top - the one letter everyone in New York knew the meaning of - as well as the word “CLASSIFIED” written across it in red ink like a warning.
More so for its contents:
Barnes, William James. Newborn male, priority clearance.
For a moment, she could only goggle at the words, because the terms “newborn” and “Avengers” really didn’t make any sense. At least, not when taken together.
Because she knew the Avengers. Well, not really; she only knew of this latest batch haphazardly, given the way the news in the background of her clinic went on and on about their heroics, fighting alongside the Fantastic Four and Captain America’s own team against that Doom nonsense from a while back. She also sometimes heard bits about them from her own son, Matthew, who kept track of their actions for reasons only known to a spirited, rambunctious teenager who had a fixation and too much time on his hands.
The Winter Soldier. Black Widow. US Agent. Ghost. Red Guardian.
They may not be as beloved as Spider-Man or as immortalized as Iron Man or Steve Rogers’ version of Cap by way of merchandise and documentaries, but they were… there. Competent enough, Amanda supposes, for the US government to keep backing them as “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”, even if there had been a lot of buzz about their spotty backgrounds, since the team was composed of two Russian assassins, a thoroughly disgraced former Captain America, a Brooklyn man out of sync with time, and a literal English ghost that others referred to, jokingly, as “Baba Yaga.”
And now here she was, holding a file saying two of these heroes actually bore a son together. Specifically: James B. Barnes and Ava C. Starr. The Winter Soldier and the Ghost. Something that was kept from the public for reasons she had no clearance to know.
Well.
If only her son Matthew knew.
Then Amanda remembered the mountain of NDAs she'd signed and the hefty sum she would have to pay if news of this caliber broke out, and wisely kept her mouth shut.
Then there was the change in plans. Supposedly, she was to be brought to the Avengers’ Watchtower that morning, which was… she had to admit, pretty exciting. The tower, rebuilt from the ground up for the third time, had always been some sort of beacon in New York. A place that says “heroes live here.” So, for her to actually have the clearance to go deeper into the place, beyond what any regular civilian had access to–
Except she got a call from an unknown number that basically told her: check-up to be done at your clinic instead. Be prepared at 9:00 AM.
Now the minutes ticked by, and she found herself oddly nervous at 8:42 AM, all the way until her staff informed her that her 9:00 appointment was here. So she took a deep breath, told herself this was a routine activity - nothing to be worried about - and went to exam room A.
She arrived at the room expecting the parents and the child, which, admittedly, was intimidating enough.
She had not expected that they would bring an entire audience with them.
And the thing was, exam room A was small. Pediatric exam rooms were always small, meant to hold few bodies at once. And yet now, it apparently held six grown adults - not counting herself - and one impossibly tiny baby among them, and going in felt more like entering an interrogation room with six semi-hostile eyes watching her every move than a regular pediatric suite housing nervous new parents and one fussy baby.
At the center of the room was Bucky Barnes - The Winter Soldier - and Amanda found herself briefly wondering which arm was the metal one, given that both were covered with jacket sleeves with gloves. Literally perched on the exam table itself was a small, blonde woman, inspecting a tongue depressor, and it took a second for Amanda to remember that she was actually the New Avengers’ leader, Black Widow. Beside her stood a broad-shouldered man with kind eyes, holding a diaper bag with drawings of stars on it, his body trying to fold in on itself like he was attempting to make himself look smaller. Amanda couldn’t place his name, but nevertheless, he still looked like he belonged with this group anyway.
Near the window stood a tall, blond man, body stiff and straight that screamed military-bred: US Agent. A large man wearing colorful overalls and a blue cap on backwards was currently washing his hands at the sink: Red Guardian. And there, seated beside Bucky Barnes, was the mother: Ava Starr, holding a very small, very delicate person against her chest, Bucky’s hand resting solidly on her knee.
“Dr. Reyes,” Bucky Barnes says, voice low and unhurried as he goes to his feet, even as his eyes did a full sweep of her from top to bottom before saying anything else. “Thank you for seeing us. And sorry for the last-minute change of venue.” His eyes immediately went to Ava Starr beside him, who merely smiled into her baby’s head and said nothing.
“Hello, Dr. Reyes,” Black Widow cuts in before Amanda can say anything, and then she just. Smiles. Despite how charming it looked on her face, Amanda couldn’t help but feel the unspoken threat beneath the action anyway. “And before anything else, please turn around for me.”
The man beside her sighs. “Yelena–”
“What?” she asks, mouth dropping open. “This is not my sauna. I cannot ask her to strip naked in front of us out of professional courtesy. But still. I need to see she isn’t armed, so.” The woman called Yelena makes a circle with her finger. “Please turn.”
And, because she realizes following was easier than doing literally anything else, Amanda does.
“Mm. Yes. Beautiful.” Yelena nods at her. “I like your doctor jacket thing, by the way. Very… white.”
“I– thank you?”
“You are welcome.”
Silence.
“Are you done?” US Agent asks Yelena, in a tone that spoke of history dealing with this situation. “Are you actually done? Can the good doctor proceed with the checkup now?”
“Of course. You may proceed, good doctor.”
Taking that as permission, Amanda shakes her head shortly, then looks around the room once. “Right. Well, I’m going to need most of you to give us a little air for the procedure. I promise, the checkup will be quick, and he’ll still be here in twenty minutes, so.”
There’s a beat of silence in which several extremely dangerous people look at each other as though deciding which of them should leave.
“Guys, she’s right,” the gentle-looking man says. “I guess I’ll just wait outside–”
“No, Bob, you stay,” Yelena tells him. Then she turns to the side and says, “You can leave, Alexei.”
“I will not!” Red Guardian replies, looking affronted at the very thought of being asked to leave. “As the honorary grandfather of–”
Bucky cuts in, looking tired, “You are not his grandfather, Alexei, I’m literally older than you–”
“I am his grandfather in spirit, Winter Soldier. I have adopted this, how many times must I–”
“Oh my god, shut up.” Silence. Then Yelena says, “Walker. Out.”
US Agent merely straightens and replies, “Nah, I’m good. In case you all forgot, I’m literally the only person in this room who has actual experience in–”
“Why, are you the one doing the checkup?”
“No, but–”
Amanda merely looks around her in faint alarm as the… discussion… rages on.
Ava Starr, apparently torn between amusement and taking pity on her, merely tells her, “Sorry about these idiots. We tried telling them we’re good to go on our own but–” She shrugs, then trades a fond, exasperated look with Bucky Barnes.
“‘Good to go on your own,’ what is this?” Alexei says, patting her shoulder. “This is historic event. We will not miss it for the world.”
“You just wanted to get out of the meeting with Val, man,” Bob says with a laugh.
“And I will gladly do it again! All for tiny boy Barnes!”
“Again, we apologize.” Bucky Barnes looks mildly sheepish and embarrassed as he adds, “We’re… usually more professional than this.”
Amanda merely sets the folder down on the counter and realizes that the fastest way to do this exam was to literally go through it. “It’s all right,” she replies, finding the whole thing… charming, actually, for reasons she did not want to examine right now. “Let’s begin, anyway.”
She busies herself with washing her hands and putting on gloves after drying them, before turning to the mother and baby. “Mrs. Barnes, is it? Or would you–”
“Ava’s fine,” she responds, and up close, Amanda notes the deep shadows under Ava’s eyes, the thinness that she was sure wasn’t there in the pictures of Ghost she’d seen. There was also the faint tremor in her hands when she shifted the baby in her chest. She simply looks worn down, and Amanda recalls the clinical notes she’d read under Ava’s file: complicated delivery, extended recovery.
“Ava,” she repeats in a gentler tone. “And how is the mom doing?”
Uncertainty flickers on Ava’s face, like she didn’t expect to be asked about that. “Oh. Just… tired, mostly,” she replies, voice a little rough on the edges. “Slower on the recovery than I’d like. But I’m getting there. Bit better than last week, which is something.”
“She overdoes things, even if we tell her not to,” US Agent - Walker - pipes up, causing Amanda to look at him. When Ava merely glares at him, he raises his hands and says, “What? Like you’re going to tell her that?”
“I don’t–”
“You kinda do, doll,” Bucky Barnes cuts in, not quite an accusation but something dangerously close to it.
To Amanda, he says, “The whole pregnancy had been difficult for her. It’s her quantum physiology warring with the baby’s regular one, and I’ll assume you read our file to know what it means.”
Alexei leans closer to Yelena and stage whispers: “I don’t know what that means.”
“Shut up.”
“Ah yes,” Amanda says, nodding and turning to Ava, “your ability. Phasing, I believe they call it.”
"Yep."
“We’ve been in contact with the doctors, of course, which is how we know that her recovery’s a bit slower than what they expected,” Bucky adds, his free hand - the one not touching Ava’s knee - rubbing his face, which could be read as either frustration or worry, or both. “And I told her she could just rest today if she wanted to, but–”
“I’m not going to miss Billy’s first checkup,” Ava replies, as if the very idea is absurd.
Amanda smiles and pats her arm. “Totally understandable.”
“So, uh,” Bob pipes up. “I know this is more for the baby’s well-being, but can you also look over Ava for us? At least, just to let us know if she’s okay?”
Ava sighs. “Bob–”
“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Amanda replies, grabbing the folder again and looking over Ava’s file in it. “I can do a quick check on Ava’s recovery status after we’re finished with William, and if anything’s off, I can refer her back to the OB.” Here she looks at Bob, then at Bucky, then at Ava. “Will that work?”
“That’ll work,” Yelena answers, hopping off the exam table, while Bucky nods as if the matter has been settled. Ava doesn’t say anything, though she does exhale loudly, like she was annoyed.
“Okay,” Amanda says. “So, let’s start with the easy part.” She gestures at the baby in Ava’s chest and carefully asks, “May I?”
Ava’s arms tighten around the baby for a second before she consciously loosens them up, allowing the doctor to gently scoop the baby. “Sorry. I– yes. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Amanda smiles at her. “I’ll be more worried if you gave him up without a fight.”
Here, she lifts William James “Billy” Barnes - impossibly light, dark tufts of hair already making themselves known on his head, his face scrunched into a scowl that looked remarkably like his father’s - and felt, again, six pairs of eyes tracking every bit of her movement. She doesn’t doubt all of them are ready to step in the moment she does something wrong and endanger the safety of the baby.
So, she doesn’t. Years of pediatric experience told her hands what to do first, what to do next, and how to talk to the parents and assuage their fears with every test she conducted.
Amanda laid him on a scale, expecting the baby to startle at the change of temperature - except he didn’t. Which was odd.
“Interesting,” she says, and six bodies immediately stiffen because a doctor saying ‘interesting’ usually meant ‘it’s bad’, “most babies his age would find skin contact with metal uncomfortable, but–”
“...oh, uh.”
Here, Amanda was pretty sure Bucky Barnes’ ears went fairly pink. “My, um. My hand. I use the vibranium one when holding him sometimes when–” And then he pales as a thought occurs to him and asks, “Is that not–”
Yes. Of course. That makes sense; it was on his file, after all. “It’s generally safe, though I’d caution against his mouth making any sort of contact with the metal arm.”
“Right. Yes. Of course.”
Then Amanda reads the number on the scale aloud: “Seven pounds, four ounces.”
“Small?” Alexei queries, leaning in so far to read the numbers himself that Amanda had to gently redirect him with her elbow.
“Not necessarily. I’d say it’s in the normal, healthy range,” she responds, then watches as six adults visibly relax at the answer.
She then goes through the routines - checking the reflexes like the startle and the rooting instinct, narrating the results in simple and understandable terms the way she’d done hundreds of times to new parents, except this time there were six people attentively listening to her instead of just two.
“Grip’s strong, too,” Amanda tells them now, gloved finger still seized by a small fist. “That’s good. That’s perfect.”
“Of course it is,” Yelena says, standing beside Bob and nudging his arm with her elbow. “Look at his parents. It’s the genes, I tell you. It’s what I call James-netics.”
“God, that’s so bad,” Ava tells her with a grin.
“Shut up, Bucky loves it.”
Bucky just raises both hands and tells the group, “I neither confirm nor deny anything,” which makes Ava laugh.
Amanda fights the smile forming on her face as she scribbles her findings down, making sure the baby doesn’t roll off the table as she does. “How’s the feeding, by the way?”
“A bit slow,” Ava replies, her smile dimming now, color blooming on her cheeks like she was embarrassed to share the information out loud. “I’m– my, um. My milk came in late. We’re supplementing, meantime.”
Amanda nods. “That’s common after a hard delivery like yours,” she says. She turns to the baby and mentions, “Nothing about him tells me it’s hurting him. He’s alert, and he’s got good form and color, so. He’s doing amazing. You’re doing amazing with him, Ava.”
Ava’s throat works for a second before she nods, and Bucky’s hand migrates from her knee to her shoulder like an anchor. Then he leans in to whisper, “Told you you’re doing just fine, doll.”
“Oh shut it. You were worried, too.”
“Well.” Here, Bucky actually smiles at Amanda. “Not so much anymore.”
The rest of the tests went well - heartbeat, lungs, hips, hearing. Then Amanda finishes swaddling the baby and hands him back to Ava, feeling the satisfaction she always felt at the end of a good first checkup. “He’s perfect,” she says. “Textbook, actually. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s showing off.”
“Takes after his grandfather, obviously,” Alexei comments, puffing out his chest.
“That is not how genetics work, Alexei,” Walker corrects him, rolling his eyes for good measure.
“James-netics, you mean,” Yelena butts in with a grin.
“I am not saying that word.”
True to her word, Amanda turns to Ava next and asks about her recovery. The answers she got were honest but clipped, with Bucky filling in gaps when he could, sharing information on the bouts of dizziness that Ava gets when standing too fast, the worsening insomnia, and other details that told her as much about Ava’s postpartum condition as it did about the attentiveness and slightly obsessive nature of the man beside her.
“Blood pressure’s a bit elevated,” Amanda comments now, peeling off the machine’s cuff from Ava’s arm. “Given everything, I’d say that’s not surprising. But I also strongly advise that you go back to check with your OB within the week, especially if the dizziness and elevated blood pressure persist. Meantime, you must get as much rest as you can.”
“I’ll make her rest,” Bucky says, in the tone of a man fully prepared to enforce it.
“I’d like to see you try,” Ava replies, in the tone of a woman fully prepared to commit to it.
Bucky sighs. “Doll–”
“He won’t be trying alone, though,” Yelena says, moving closer to Ava now. "You know that, right? And you can’t fight all of us."
“Actually, I very much can, especially you–”
Amanda turns her back on them to make her final notes on the chart - seven pounds, four ounces, baby thriving, mother recovering, follow-up flagged - and finds that, in the minutes she spent in the room, the intimidation and pressure she initially felt from these individuals had been worn down to something she only felt in the warm presence of messy, loud families who so thoroughly, obviously adored one other.
Something close to fondness.
Which was a strange feeling to bestow on a government-funded group of enhanced individuals, obviously, but. There you go.
“He’s all done,” she announces, making her way to the door now. “Good numbers across the board. You should all be proud.”
“We are,” Bucky says simply, stroking Billy's head, then holding Ava’s hand in his and raising it to kiss her knuckles, with her smiling at him softly as he does. Yelena nudges Bob again and winks at him. Alexei gives Amanda two thumbs-up signs. Meanwhile, Walker just looks relieved that the whole thing went well without any incident and says, "Thanks, Doc."
“Mm-hmm,” she acknowledges. “And I’ll see you all in Billy’s next scheduled check-up, then.”
And somehow, she finds herself already, impossibly looking forward to it.