Absolute Gravity

"Jo?" Clara said. She was standing on the other side of the glass in my living room. Clara, Tony, and Vision. Clara was holding a baby at her front, smiling as if she had no idea I'd just been in another place. Another memory.

The baby had dark brown hair and brown eyes. It was hard to say whether this was a Stark or Weisberg trait at his age. But suddenly, the memory washed away. The anger of finding out about my Captain's betrayal didn't matter as much as the baby in my sister's arms.

The Chaos was good at that. Forcing me to join the memory, not letting me see what was really there—not letting me think too long about switching between them. When the channel flipped—I forgot the last thing I'd watched. It was only the pain that forced me to linger there longer. To think too much. That always happened when the memories were too painful.

I approached slowly, watching the baby's big beautiful eyes follow me. I didn't know how he'd react to me. Clara said she wanted to make sure he knew who I was. But he was too young to recognize me from a photo. He was probably confused about the wall of glass between us.

My eyes began to water. I expected the moment to be emotional, but it burst out of me faster than I thought it would. It broke my heart not to be able to pull him into my arms and smother his cheeks with kisses. He was so small and sweet. And when I finally stopped in front of him, he smiled—a big, wet toothless grin.

"Oh, you guys," I said, trying to sniff back the wave of emotion. "He's beautiful." Clara smiled and bounced him.

"Is he smiling? I think he likes you. Say hi, Bernie. Say 'Hi, Auntie Jo-Jo." He obviously wasn't old enough to say anything, but he smiled and cooed anyway.

"Hey there, Gizmo. I'm your auntie. And you're the cutest fucking baby I've ever seen in my life." Clara immediately pulled him back as if she could protect him from the f-word.

"Jo, really?"

"What? It's a compliment. It's true."

"I know, but watch your language, please? It's bad enough with Tony around. Knowing my luck, the first word out of his mouth will be 'shit.' Oh shit. I shouldn't have said that." I gave her a pointed look. She shook her head. "Sorry. I'm working on it too."

"Yeah, sounds like you need more work."

"She's actually worse than I am," Tony confided. He stood beside her, holding a finger out for Bernie to grasp and looking at them both with pride. I nodded in understanding.

"Oh, I believe it. She actually had her mouth washed out with soap more than I ever did. Everyone always thought I was the troublemaker. She was just better at not getting caught." He smiled and leaned down to kiss her on the side of the head. I was worried I'd put a strain on their relationship, but they seemed just fine now.

"I believe it." She glared.

"I'm not as prudish as everyone thinks," she argued. "I'm a publicist. So I know how to make people think I am. Besides, I've had my nose pierced since college. You were never brave enough for anything like that."

"I know. I'm messing with you. But honestly, getting your nose pierced was probably the most rebellious thing you've ever done in your entire life," I pointed out. "Aside from getting it on with Iron Man, I guess."

"Right. And what about you, Miss Military Barbie? If anyone's the good-two-shoes, it's you." I smiled, and my eyebrows shot up. She had no idea.

"I was almost dishonorably discharged, and when I got out of it and went to Special Forces, I made up for that mistake by fucking my lieutenant on the regular. I wasn't exactly a model soldier." Her mouth dropped open in shock. I pretended not to notice and made faces at the baby. He was still staring at me, unsure what to make of the glass wall and the weirdo on the other side.

"You did what?"

"Oh, don't act like you didn't know."

"I had absolutely no clue."

"I wrote you letters about him all the time."

"Are you talking about Jimenez? All you said was that he was smoking hot. I think you actually used the words 'chef kiss' once, and that's about it." I paused.

"I kissed him," I told her. "Just a few minutes ago. I—I remember. But he's dead, and I watched him die." She seemed unfazed by the panic in my voice. Because that wasn't what I'd said.

"Well, I actually had another reason for coming," she said, changing the subject as if I'd never mentioned him at all. "Not just to introduce you to your Gizmo."

"Oh yeah? What's up?" Back on track. Always on track. You can't change the past. You can't change what you've already said.

"Dana and I have been talking about throwing you a birthday party." I froze, and the smile melted off my face. I turned away.

"Don't bother."

"I'm pretty sure we weren't asking permission."

"It's my birthday. Which means I get to have a say. And I say no. My birthday isn't even my real birthday anyway, did you know that? I was born a day earlier." Apparently, no one had told them that part. Clara shrugged it off anyway.

"Regardless—you deserve to do something fun."

"I don't want it."

"Too bad. Bernie is going to help me plan it. Aren't you, Bernie?" She was trying to use him to win me over. As if I'd reluctantly agree now that I knew the baby was involved in the planning process.

"He's an infant," I pointed out.

"He's Mommy's best helper, isn't he?" I groaned and tried to think of something to change the subject before it turned into an argument.

"Why'd you name him Bernie, anyway?" I asked. "It makes him sound about a hundred years old."

"It's an old family name," Tony explained. But Vision spoke at the exact same time.

"The family flamingo," he said. There was a brief moment of confused silence before Tony visibly winced, and Clara's eyes widened. She swiveled on him, forcing the baby to release Tony's finger.

"I'm sorry, the what?" She'd directed the question at Tony. He now had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers.

"Bernard Stark was Howard's pet flamingo." She flipped Bernie around to balance him on her hip.

"His pet WHAT?"

"Flamingo."

"Yeah, no, she got that, Vis," Tony said, waving for him to shut up. He rubbed his eyes like he was already anticipating the post-argument headache.

"Anthony Edward Stark, are you telling me that this 'important family name' you chose for our son was actually the name of a fucking flamingo?" Bernie turned his head to stare at me. I gave him a look of understanding.

"He was a really important flamingo."

She looked about five seconds away from blowing a gasket. But instead, she turned on me and smiled in that serene way I imagined serial killers did when meeting the neighbors. She was obviously bottling it all up for later.

"Twelfth," she stated. "Birthday party. No buts." She shot Tony another glare and stormed out. He looked at Vision in defeat.

"You just had to tell her about the flamingo, didn't you?" he asked. Then he followed without expecting an answer, leaving me and Vision standing there awkwardly.

"It seems I still haven't quite gotten the hang of this 'reading the room' thing after all," he said. I nodded slowly.

"You'll get there someday, bud."

"If it helps—I did come bearing news."

"Sure, what's up?"

"I found something about Sergeant Barnes that I thought may interest you." He phased himself through the glass and handed me a piece of paper with an address. I squinted at it.

"This is a nursing home. In San Diego."

"Yes. It's where Rebecca Barnes is living. His little sister." I took a deep breath. Oh.

"I didn't realize she was still around."

"I don't know if she's aware that he's alive. But perhaps meeting her would bring you comfort. Both of you." He phased back through the glass, leaving me alone with my thoughts.