That day had seemed normal enough for James Buchanan Barnes; he'd saved Steve form being beaten to a bloody pulp in an alleyway, and he'd planned another double date. But in other ways it was abnormal. He had just gotten his orders: "Sergeant James Barnes, of the 107th division, shipping out for England tomorrow," was what he told Steve. But now he had to tell his family.
"Ma? I'm home." Bucky announced, as he closed their front door with his foot. He heard his mother's voice coming from the kitchen.
"James Buchanan Barnes! Where have you—oh," her voice trailed off as she walked in to see her boy. The sight that greeted her was a man in army uniform, standing as straight as he could, with a smirk dancing on his lips.
"Hiya, Ma."
"Your orders. They came." she gasped.
His smile faded.
"Yeah. Where's dad, and the girls?" he asked. "I want to tell you all at the same time."
"They're upstairs. I'll call them." She walked over to the stairway. "James? Girls! Come downstairs, please!"
Immediately two brunettes and a blond appeared at the top of the staircase.
"Bucky!" the lighter-haired cried, and flew down the stairs to embrace he big brother.
"Hey, doll face, don't knock me down!" he laughed.
She pulled away, and saw what he was wearing.
"Oh. They came."
"Your orders?" the oldest girl, Julia, gasped as both girls rushed into the living room.
"Yeah," Bucky frowned. "Where's Dad?"
"Right here." A voice from behind him said. Bucky turned to see the older version of himself, his father, James Buchanan Barnes Sr.
"Hey, Pa."
"What are your orders." Was all his dad said. An air of sadness hung over the room as Bucky's family waited to hear what they'd been dreading ever since the war started.
"Sergeant James Barnes, of the 107th division, shipping out for England tomorrow." He repeated what he had said to Steve earlier with a brave face, so he wouldn't upset his sisters or mother.
His father nodded gravely, his mother fought back tears as she hugged him, while the two brunettes, Julia and Olivia, shed a few. That left Rebecca.
"Hey, doll face. You got anything to say?" Bucky asked.
"No." she sobbed, as she ran upstairs to her room.
Their mother was about to go after her, when Bucky intervened.
"No, Ma. I got this." He told her, before mounting the steps, and knocking softly in Becky's door.
"Go away." was the muffled cry he heard.
He opened the door. When he did, he saw his kid sister sprawled out on the bed, sobbing. He quietly walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed.
"Hey, Becky. It's okay." He shushed, while gently stroking her hair. She sat up.
"No, it's not! You're leaving tomorrow, and—and," she hiccupped. "And I'm never gonna see you again." She fell back, and her body wracked with sobs.
"Shh, shh, Beck. You're gonna see me again. I promise." He reassured her. She sat up again.
"Really?" she sniffed.
"Really." He promised.
That day had seemed normal enough to Rebecca Louise Barnes; she'd aced her history test, loved her math exam, and had managed not to pick any fights at lunch. But, in other ways it was abnormal. She'd gotten a C on her geography quiz, and she had to go home and tell her family about it.
"Ma? I'm home." She announced, as she closed the apartment door with her foot. But instead of the usual, 'Rebecca Louise, where have you been?' she was greeted by silence. No, not total silence. She thought when she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. She walked in to see her mother sobbing into the kitchen table, with a telegram crumpled in her hand. Becky rushed over and knelt beside her mother.
"Ma? Ma!? What's wrong?" she worriedly questioned.
Her mother made an attempt to answer, but handed her the telegram instead. As Becky read it as quickly as she could, all her fears were assured: her brother, James Buchanan Barnes, the one who would always tell her bedtime stories when she was little, the one who had always stood up for her when she was bullied, the one who had always told her jokes when she was sad, couldn't do any of those anymore, because he was dead.
She screamed and crumpled to the floor.
"But he made a promise." She whispered through her tears.
One morning, nearly seventy years later, Rebecca Barnes was lying in her bed at the nursing home, when a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," she called sweetly.
As she said this, the very last person she would have ever imagined walked through the door.
"Hey, doll face." Her older brother smirked.
She gasped.
"Bucky! What? How—" Tears openly streamed down her face.
"Shh, shh, Beck." He held her, as he lightly stroked her hair. "I made a promise, and I wasn't about to break it."