LIVING PROOF
— 002. OLD FACES

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THE CHILL OF THE NIGHT WRAPPED AROUND ROSEMARY LIKE A SECOND SKIN, AS SHE WALKED THE QUIET STREETS. Her hood remained up, her shoulders drawn in against the cold, and her steps slow, steady, tired. The faint glow of streetlamps lit the cracked sidewalk under her boots.

Just up ahead, her building stood tall,
tucked between the skeletons of the old city and only a few blocks from the crumbling remains of what was once the Avengers Tower. However it wasn't crumbling, as she knew Val was up to something and most likely trying to rebuilt what was once there.

  Regardless, she never moved far from it, even when the team dissolved and the world kept spinning without them. The tower was just a shell now. Empty windows, silent halls, a monument to a time that felt like a dream.

It felt like a betrayal to move away from it, since that's where she felt closest to home even though it wasn't there anymore. The people she called home were either dead or gone somewhere else. She just couldn't bring herself to forget.

She adjusted the strap of her gym bag higher on her sore shoulder, the sharp pull of bruised muscles earning a quiet hiss from her lips. The black hoodie she wore covered most of the forming bruises, but it couldn't hide the ache crawling through her ribs and spine.

Her knuckles throbbed, wrapped tightly in cloth still crusted faintly with her own blood. She didn't bother taking the subway. She preferred walking, even if it hurt. Movement kept her grounded, or at least distracted.

The closer she got to her apartment, the quieter things became. The streetlights flickered with a tired hum. Her boots crunched softly over a patch of scattered gravel near a construction zone, ignoring all the noise around her.

As she passed the last intersection before her street, her gaze was pulled — unbidden — to the mural on the side of a brick wall.

Her steps slowed down now, walking at a snails pace. She'd seen it before, countless times. But it never got easier, if anything it got more painful each time.

A swirl of deep blue and gold stretched across the wall, painted by the hands of some local kids who grew up idolizing the Avengers. And there, in the very center, was her — or rather, Lady Lumora — mid-flight, her hands glowing with pure yellow light, her long hair caught in a false wind, her expression brave and calm. Beside her stood Iron Man, Natasha, the Hulk, Thor, Hawkeye and... her father.

Her mind wandering as it always did when glancing at something like this — usually to the same place. Bob.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she blinked back the sharp image that threatened to surface. His laugh. The way he'd always tilt his head when she said something sarcastic. The awkward way he'd tuck his long limbs into himself like he was trying to take up less space. He never could, not really. His presence was too big, even when he tried to disappear.

And somehow, he was gone now. No goodbye, no message, no body. Just... gone.

Her throat tightened, and she turned away from the mural. Pain clawed up her chest like it always did — a dull ache that burned beneath her ribs, sharp and constant like a knife never quite pulled out. She blinked it back, the sting behind her eyes, and picked up her pace.

Don't look. Don't feel. Just get home.

She reached her apartment door five minutes later, unlocking the front entrance and nodding to the old security camera tucked in the corner, though she always wondered if it even worked anymore. Her complex was quiet tonight, surprisingly so.

Normally the neighbors across the hall were arguing or slamming doors, or the elderly woman in 3B was humming some old-timey tune while watering her plants. But not tonight. Tonight it was too quiet.

  She hesitated just as her hand touched her doorknob. That feeling again. The stare. The pressure on the back of her neck. That unmistakable tingle in her skin, the shift in the air that whispered someone was there, that someone was watching her from the shadows.

Her powers flickered. A pulse of heat in her fingertips, a shimmer of light behind her eyes. She turned sharply, scanning the shadows along the hallway. Nothing moved, no creak of floorboards, no shift of breath. Paranoia, maybe. Or something more, she never knew anymore.

With a heavy sigh, and a head shake she unlocked the door and pushed it open, "Krypto?" She called softly, voice still scratchy from the fight.

A beat of silence answered her. Then — a bark. Joyful, and loud. And a flash of white fur barreled straight into her.

"K-Krypto!" She laughed, falling back as her fluffy Labrador Retriever leapt onto her with a chorus of excited yips and wagging tail, "Okay, okay! I missed you too, you big ball of chaos—ah!"

His tongue was all over her face, his paws pressing on her sore stomach, but for the first time that day, she laughed genuinely. That rare kind of laughter that came from somewhere warm, somewhere that still had light.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly once he settled down, burying her face in his thick coat, "Hey, buddy. I'm okay. I promise."

He barked again in response as if he could call out her lie, and used his tail to whack her in the face causing the young woman to deadpan at her dog annoyed, before standing up off the wooden floor.

Inside, her apartment was dim, bathed in the golden glow of a few fairy lights strung above the shelves. It was small, quiet, cluttered but it was home. Every wall bore pieces of her life. Photos with Steve, smiling and carefree, polaroid's of her and Bob on park benches and rooftops. Frames filled with candid moments of the Avengers being human — laughing, eating, even arguing.

And it hurt seeing them. But she couldn't take them down, or more like wouldn't as it reminder her who she was doing this for.

On a far shelf, hidden but not forgotten, her old gear lay in a sealed compartment, her Lady Lumora uniform, the one Steve helped design with reinforced fabric and shimmering plasma lines, locked away where she wouldn't have to see it. Not anymore.

She walked into the kitchen slowly, wincing with every step, and pulled the crumpled cash from her pocket. With a sigh, she opened the glass jar above the stove and added the bills to the growing pile inside. A survival fund just in case she had to run again.

Krypto followed her every step, tail swishing like a metronome, eyes fixed on her with quiet concern. He knew her moods better than most people since he was always around her, and knew her better than anyone.

"I know, I know," She said softly, and bent down briefly to scratch behind his ears, "I'm fine. Just a little banged up." She could tell he didn't believe her, but he choose to let it go for now.

Rose disappeared into the bathroom and re-emerged twenty minutes later, steam following her like fog. She wore grey sweatpants and a hoodie far too big — one of Steve's, maybe — and rubbed a towel through her damp hair. Her body ached with every motion, the bruises blooming brighter beneath her skin, but the shower helped a little.

She collapsed onto the couch with a soft groan, letting her body sink into the cushions. Krypto wasted no time. He leapt up and curled across her lap and stomach, earning a surprised oof from her lips.

"You're not light, y'know." She murmured, but her fingers were already in his fur, combing through the soft waves like she'd done a thousand times.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it lazily, squinting at the screen. Missed calls from Sam, Bucky, and Yelena. She sighed heavily, "Later." She muttered, tossing it onto the coffee table, and went back to patting Krypto.

But it buzzed again making her grumble, and blindly reach for it until she felt it in her grasp. A new message from Bucky popped up.

"Come see Sam, his new partner got hurt. He won't say it, but he's not doing great. Please, come tomorrow."

Rose blinked at the screen in surprise. Maybe that was why they were both calling her, well half of the reason because most of the time it was checking in on her. For a long moment, she said nothing.

She could still see Sam's smile, hear his laugh. The way he always offered her advice, even when she didn't ask. The way he looked at her like she was still worth something — even when she didn't believe it. He was always there for her, and it was her turn to do the same.

And in doing so, she sent Bucky a thumbs up to confirm and exhaled slowly, her voice quiet, "Guess I'm leaving tomorrow then."

Krypto whined softly hearing her comment, resting his chin against her shoulder, as his tail thumped gently against her leg on the couch.

"Yeah," She mumbled thickly, her hand petting his back, her heart heavy, her eyes distant, as she blow a lock of her blonde hair off her forehead, "Before Val finds another reason to keep me."

Rosemary tilted her head against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, her gaze somewhere far away, somewhere in the past like it always was. She wasn't ready for the world again, but for her family she would even for a few minutes.

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MORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERED WEAKLY THROUGH THE CURTAINS OF ROSE'S APARTMENT, CASTING GOLDEN SLANTS ACROSS THE HARDWOOD FLOOR. The city outside had begun to stir with its usual chaos — honking horns, muffled shouts, the metallic whir of delivery trucks and subway grates breathing out steam. But inside, it was quiet, sill. Peaceful in a way that made her chest ache.

Rosemary moved slowly through her bedroom, a duffel bag half-zipped on her bed. The clothes she picked were practical — black combat pants, a fitted t-shirt, gloves tucked into the side. A hoodie, and a spare jacket. She tossed in a medkit and a folded-up photo of her and her dad, carefully wrapped in an old bandana.

Then another photo, one she hesitated on of her and Bob. A candid shot her father had taken once. They were sitting on the stairs of the Tower after a mission when she invited him. Rose laughing, Bob looking awkward but content beside her.

She folded the photo once, gently, and slipped it between the pages of her notebook before placing it in the bag where she kept two pieces of her heart.

Krypto watched her the entire time from the doorway, his big fluffy tail wagging low and slow. He knew the drill, he always did when the bag came out.

Rose sighed softly, zipping the bag shut and slinging it over her shoulder before crouching down in front of the massive white dog, "I'll only be gone a few days or more, buddy." She murmured, scratching under his chin, "Be good for Mrs. Callahan, okay? No chewing her mail again. I swear, if I come back and she's got another one of your paw-printed apologies taped to her door..."

He let out a low bark, tongue lolling as he leaned into her touch. His nose nuzzled at her cheek, and she giggled just a little despite the ache behind her eyes.

"I'll miss you too," She whispered, pressing a kiss to his head, "You're all I've got left, you know that?"

Krypto's ears perked, sensing her shift in tone. She smiled again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Outside, a car horn gave two soft beeps. Right on time, Bucky never waited long.

Rose stood, giving Krypto one last pat on the head before grabbing her phone, keys, and the rest of her things. She shrugged on her hoodie, the movement causing her sore side to protest, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it. She'd had worse.

As she opened the door to her apartment, the familiar creak of her old hinges echoed into the hall. And, just as she expected, the sound of a teacup clinking came from the door next to hers.

"Morning, sweet girl," Mrs. Callahan greeted, smiling from her chair just outside her apartment. The older woman had wrapped herself in a thick shawl, a floral teacup steaming in her wrinkled hands. Her snow-white hair was pinned back with gold clips, and her kind eyes squinted at Rose through her glasses, "Off to save the world again?"

Rose chuckled softly looking at the woman fondly, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, "Just going to visit a friend this time."

"Is it that handsome fella with the arm?" The old woman teased with a mischievous grin, and faked fanned herself, "Tell him I say hi."

"I will," Rosemary replied, unable to keep the smile off her lips, "And thank you for keeping an eye on Krypto while I'm gone."

"Always. He's good company. Better behaved than most men I know, that's for sure."

Rose laughed amused, agreeing with the words said and shook her head, "You're too good to us."

Mrs. Callahan waved her off with a playful scoff, "Nonsense. Now go on, sweetheart. The world needs more women who walk like they've already survived the worst of it."

That stopped Rose for a beat. She blinked, caught off guard by how deeply those words hit her, "I— Thanks," She murmured, clearing her throat, "I'll be back in a few days."

Mrs. Callahan gave a knowing nod, sipping her tea, "I'll leave the porch light on."

With that, Rose descended the stairs, footsteps light but purposeful. When she reached the sidewalk, the black SUV Bucky had sent was idling at the curb. The driver stood beside the back door, holding it open for her.

She gave one last glance up at her apartment window, where she could just barely make out Krypto's white fur pressed against the glass. He was watching her leave, just like always.

She gave him a small wave, then ducked into the back seat of the car. The door shut behind her with a soft click, sealing her off from the little world she had built — the quiet safety of her solitude.

The car pulled away from the curb, Rose leaned her head against the window, watching the buildings blur past. Her fingers toyed absently with the zipper of her hoodie.

Whatever waited ahead, whether it was helping Sam, dealing with Val, or just facing herself — she knew one thing for certain.... she wasn't ready. But she was going anyway.

Because she owed Sam, because it might help, because part of her still hoped the next road might lead to Bob. Even if it was foolish, even if it hurt.

The SUV hummed along the winding road as it left the city skyline behind, trading skyscrapers for wide, open skies and the soft rise of forested hills. Rose kept her eyes on the blur of green and gray outside the window, her fingers absently tracing the scarred leather seam of her glove.

She hadn't seen them in person in a few months.

She'd texted back sometimes. Ignored the calls more often than not. Not because she didn't care — quite the opposite. She just didn't know how to face people who knew the version of her that no longer existed.

The car finally pulled up to the hospital that was quietly tucked away from the world — a modest government facility functioning that currently held the two she needed to see.

The automatic doors of Walter Reed Army Medical Center slid open with a gentle hiss, ushering in cool, sterile air and the faint scent of antiseptic. The pristine marble floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and the muted hum of voices, intercoms, and hurried footsteps filled the large reception area.

Despite its calm exterior, there was a quiet urgency to everything — the kind only found in places that constantly walked the line between hope and heartbreak.

Rose stepped in, her boots silent on the floor, a black baseball cap pulled low over her eyes and a grey hoodie zipped to her throat. She kept her head down, hands in her pockets, but her senses were alert.

The weight of the duffel bag slung across her shoulder pressed against the lingering bruises from the fight the night before. Her muscles ached. Her ribs still stung. But none of that compared to the ache in her chest.

She hadn't stepped into a hospital like this since... She forced the thought down before it could finish.

A sign above her read: Surgical Ward – ICU & Observation. She followed it quietly, her footsteps echoing faintly as she turned the corner and walked past a row of vending machines and closed examination rooms.

  Then, she saw them.

Through the wide pane of observation glass on the far side of the hallway, Sam and Bucky stood together in a quiet waiting room looking solemn. Beyond them, inside the room past the glass, lay Joaquin Torres.

He was unconscious, pale beneath the harsh lights, hooked up to monitors with a thin IV line running down from his arm. Bandages wrapped his chest and one leg, and a light beeping rhythm echoed from his heart monitor. A doctor in scrubs spoke to a nurse at the foot of the bed, but the moment felt still, frozen like time was holding its breath.

Rose slowed. There was something about seeing someone laid out like that, still breathing but battered, still fighting but fragile — that brought everything rushing back.

Steve in the hospital bed after a mission gone wrong. Bob sitting beside her with a busted lip after he had beat up some bullies that were attacking her. Herself, laid up in the Tower's infirmary after a fight with Thanos's army when she lost everything.

Her eyes stayed on Joaquin for a beat longer, heart clenching at the sight of the young man who had once grinned at her awkwardly when they first met, tripping over his own boots in his excitement to meet "Lady Lumora."

She swallowed hard and walked toward the door.

"About time," Came a gruff, familiar voice from the side, making her eyes turn to the sound.

Bucky Barnes stood near the back of the room, arms crossed, metal hand gleaming under the light. Same scowl, same narrowed eyes. But his jaw softened when he saw her fully. Pale bruises on her jawline, the forming black eye, and the stiff way she held herself.

"Did you pick a fight with a wrecking ball on the way here?"

Rosemary managed a small smirk, and closed the door behind her as she stepped inside, "Something like that."

Before either of them could say more, a second voice talked from in front of them — warm, familiar, and teasing. "Bucky, I told you not to scare her before I get to hug her."

  A second later, their attention went Sam Wilson, dressed in his casual clothes. His troubled expression softened the moment he laid eyes on her, "Damn, kid..." He muttered as he came closer, "You really came."

And without hesitation, Rose dropped her bag to the floor beside her and threw her arms around him. It was instinct, a pull she didn't resist.

Sam's arms folded around her without question, anchoring her with the kind of warmth she hadn't felt in a long time. He held her tighter than she expected, her chin tucked into his shoulder, being careful of her hat and her bruised body protested the pressure but she didn't care.

They stayed there for a moment too long, until Bucky cleared his throat behind them with a grumbled, "Okay, now I feel like a third wheel."

Rose pulled back from the embrace, but kept her hand on Sam's arm who snickered amused and she gave him a crooked smile, "You always were."

That earned her a grunt, but she could tell it was mostly affection, mostly. But they did hug briefly too after the greeting with Sam, and gained a small, soft kiss on the side of her head from the ex-solider also.

Once they were all standing in a line in front of the glass, Rosemary cleared her throat and nodded her head sadly to Joaquin, "How bad, Sammy?" She asked quietly, the familiar nickname spilling out before she could stop it.

It did warm his heart to hear it again, but his expression was solemn as he answered, "The doctors had to restart his heart. They don't know if...." The words catch in his throat, and he shakes his head, eyelashes fluttering.

Her chest clenched in sorrow watching the brave man she knew, and shared a knowing look with Bucky, who spoke up next from the other side of her, "This isn't your fault."

"It makes me think of Steve." Sam retorted, his dark eyes flickering to Rose who tensed up a bit at her father's name, and then he glanced a Bucky who had his non metal hand on her lower back, "How many alien invasions did he stop again?"

Rosemary tucked her hands into her jacket's pocket, trying not to remembered things that she purposely pushed away, "We stopped two of them." She muttered in a thick voice, "Wasn't the best of times."

"Two. Wow." Sam scoffed amazed, and bumped his shoulder into hers gently that gained a small smile, but than his attitude changed into self loathing, "What made me think I could follow that? I should've took the serum. Like Steve, like you."

Bucky stared at him closely from his spot next to the quietened girl, and tucked his metal hand into his pocket, "Why?" He questioned curiously, knowing exactly what Sam was feeling.

The male was silent for a beat, until he shook his head and sighed out heavily, "Because this is all startin' to seem much bigger than me." He vented and now turned to fully face his friends, "Ross, he asked me to restart the Avengers, Rose, Buck. But Joaquin's in here, Isaiah's in prison, and Sterns... I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands. And he got away. He damn near pushed us to the brink of war, because I wasn't..."

The two were listening to him quietly as he ranted, and Rose had to keep her reactions in check hearing the part about restarting the family she once had again but with different people. She placed her hand on Sam's forearm, and whispered gently, "Say what you need to, let it out."

He blinked away the emotion in his eyes, and glanced from Joaquin's wounded body, and then back down to Rosemary, "Your father made a mistake."

Her blue gaze widen hearing his confession. There was no world where her father made a mistake nor regretted picking Sam, she knew that, "No, he didn't." She speaks firmer, and clenched her free hand beside her, "My father gave you that shield not because you're the strongest, or fastest, or smartest, but because you're you. Purely you. Steve knew what he was doing when handing down his shield, Sam, you don't need to live up to what he did. Because his power wasn't the serum nor the shield, it was him and how shaped himself as being a hero. That's his true legacy."

"You think if you had that serum," Bucky went off from her words, giving Rose's shoulder a comforting squeeze noticing the tears in her eyes, "you'd be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn't. You're a human being, and you're doing your best. Steve gave people something to believe in. But you... you give 'em something to aspire to."

Sam stayed quiet for a few seconds, and took in their words of advice until he spoke a snarky comment at Bucky that broke the serious vibe, "Did your speechwriters help you with that?"

"They did, yeah. The ending, a little bit." Bucky revealed in a causal tone, causing Rose to snort behind her hand, and shakes her head amused watching the males, "Well, did you like it?"

"No, no, it was good. Solid B-plus." Sam assured just as casual, but his expression looked more serious than anything, before a grin covers his mouth and wrapped an arm around Rosemary's shoulder, "But your speech, wow, definitely way higher than an A-plus that's for sure."

  She giggled quietly into his chest as he pulled her into his side, and playfully shoved him away, "Yeah, yeah. At least I don't practice my speeches beforehand." She aimed this at Bucky, who gaped in fake offence and Sam to laugh, something that only the three of them together can create.

"Whatever you say, smarty pants." Bucky rolled his eyes, but still hand a fond smile as he used his metal hand to ruffle the top of her head that was now hatless, causing her to grumble annoyed and nudge him away im return.

Rose was happy, at least for the moment she spent with the two who were left of her family. But even so, it couldn't erase nor make her forget the deep pain she was in.

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❪ ✏️ ❫ 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 : 4385
─►☆ AUTHOR'S NOTE :
safe to stay im a lil bit obsessed with this fic i won't lie so heres another update for you all to enjoy. its a bit longer also than the last one because i yapped LMAOO i write and write and write sometimes so that's my bad but chapters won't be long all the time don't worry gang 🥲

writing this makes me miss writing for marvel fics in general like ugh i think i will end up making more again tbh knowing what im like but we shall see 😋

also yeah a small glimpse of rose's bond with bucky and sam. safe to stay they are like the three musketeers deadass, and i adore them sm

anywaysss you all know the drill, vote,
comment (if you want), ect mwah <33🫶