Warning: violence and gore
1 of 9
He enlisted into the army. And she wonders why she didn't see it coming. He always had a sense of patriotism, unlike Steve, who'd wanted to join for the simple reason of ending the injustice and oppression. But of course, they only had each other as brothers, and in the end what happened had happened.
Bucky brought her to the ice cream parlor that they and Steve had eaten at so many times, over hot summers and holidays. But this time it was just the two of them, and they sit there in comfortable silence, watching the movement of the multicolored hues of the city. After they finish their ice cream - cherry and vanilla - he brings her to Central Park, and they walk the trails, chatting and talking. A quietness settles in for a moment, before Bucky sighs.
"Avalyn, I wanted to talk to you about something." She's observing a squirrel running up an oak tree, and she nods. He continues, his voice softer. "I've...well, I've enlisted. They say I'm leaving next week."
She turns so fast to look at him that she feels a crick in her neck, and the smile drops from her face as she looks at him, seeing only truth in his expression. He avoids her eyes.
"You can't be...I..."
Before she can stop herself, her eyes fill with tears, and she chokes back a sob as he leans forward, hugging her.
"Hey, c'mon, doll, don't cry, please. Shh, shhhh."
She can't help but cry even harder, because who is she without Bucky by her side? She doesn't want him to go,and at the same time she feels horribly selfish for wanting him to stay.
Eventually her sobs quiet and she sniffs a little, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. He's looking at her and she can't help but stare at the soft color of his eyes, the way his lips curl up just a little bit in the corners, the slope of his cheek and his jaw. Little things that somehow mattered. So, so much.
"Avalyn, I was wonderin' if…I was wondering if you'll wait. For me."
She looks up at him, her eyes pink and her cheeks wet with tears, choking a little bit on the rawness in her throat before nodding hastily. "Always, Buck."
A small, boyish smile appears on his mouth, and he reaches forward, gently gripping her fingers in his hand. "I love you, Ava. And I promise that I'll come back for you. I swear to God, I'll come back."
He dips his head and kisses her softly, and all she can think is that it was the sweetest and saddest thing she's ever tasted.
2 of 9
As he boards the train the next day, his eyes seek out her in the crowd, and when he finds her, he waves. She's crying again, but as the train leaves the station she raises her hand in farewell.
Bucky was always good at anything and everything he did. She could only hope that he would be good at surviving the war.
3 of 9
He writes her, and she writes back.
His letters stop coming a year later.
4 of 9
She receives post for the first time in two months from the Army. She's excited as she rips open the mail. But as she reads the first line, her heart drops.
To the family and loved ones of James Buchanan Barnes,
We express our deepest condolences, and regret that Sergeant Barnes is missing in action. He and 150 men in his unit, the 107th, were killed or taken prisoner-
She closes her eyes before she can read more, and a sob escapes her. No. Bucky has to be okay. He promised that he'd come back. He's alive. He promised.
And yes, just like in the stories she read when she was young, she does find out less than a month later that he was rescued, alive and well. The joy she feels, the relief is unutterable, amazing. They're still going back into the war against a Nazi deep-science group called Hydra, but now there's a group of them, elite fighters called the Howling Commandoes. And although she still sleeps on the edge, she dreams of him safe again.
She'd come to find out later that the war always would and always will take from everyone what they held dear, even when it seemed unfair.
5 of 9
Avalyn,
I don't know how to begin things like this, but what I can say is that I'm so deeply sorry. Bucky is gone. During the last battle he was killed, and I couldn't recover his body. It's entirely my fault that he was killed. You of all people know that he was like a brother to me, and so I'm going after Johann Schmidt and the rest of Hydra, and I swear that I won't rest until every last of them are gone. Please forgive me. Forgive us all.
Your friend,
Steve.
The paper, marred with eraser marks and rumpled and torn edges, slips from her fingers, and she exhales shakily. She looks out the window, briefly, at the greyish-white sky, and sniffs. Her head feels cold, as she examines the people walking the streets, the cars running along their grids, the children playing their games.
He promised me.
The world's still moving. But she just got off at the wrong stop.
He promised me.
6 of 9
It's been twelve years and four months since Steve went missing. And even longer since Bucky died. S.H.I.E.L.D. has grown so much since then, its reach surpassing any other government agency, protecting both domestic and foreign soil.
She's still there in S.H.I.E.L.D., along with Howard and Peggy. They're building a better nation and a better world. But she can't help but feel that something's off. It's that strange sort of feeling in the back of her mind, something most people would brush off as paranoia.
She's wishing that Bucky was still here, that she could still talk to him. Even after all these years, at nights after bad dreams she'd still find herself rolling over in search of his warmth and comfort and finding only cold sheets, and more often than not falling off of the twin bed.
Some days she curses him for leaving her, and other days she merely stays at home, pictures and albums on her lap, smiling at the little details and memories that come back to her.
It's okay, she decides.
7 of 9
When she sleeps, she dreams.
Cold. So cold.
"Avalyn..."
Her feet sink into icy snow. She's running, running, searching for something that she doesn't know, something just out of reach.
"Avalyn..."
She turns, creeping fear in her mind and chills down her spine.
"Help...me..."
In the distance, she sees a figure lying in the snow. Whoever it is, they're shivering in the whiteness.
"Hello?" she yells towards the figure. Suddenly, there's blood on the snow, blood on her hands. She's sprinting towards the figure, who seems farther and farther away.
She hates herself for never being able to reach him.
8 of 9
It's nighttime in New York, and her sound-proof apartment is silent and dark. She steps into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she moves to open a cabinet, she detects the softest rush of air. There's someone behind her.
Her attacker is strong and fast, moving like a shadow even in the dark of her house. The glint of a knife catches her eyes, and as he brings in down she rolls to the side, hearing the dull thud of impact as the knife slammed into the cabinet. Instead of stopping, he pulls the knife out and throws it. She cries out as it catches her forearm, slicing through her skin. Blood begins to pour profusely down her hands, and as she gasps in pain, he grabs her by the neck and knees her in the side. There's the sound of bone shattering, and she screams loudly.
Her chest feels on fire, but as he swings his fist back she kicks out, landing a solid blow on his chest and pushing him back a few inches. She grabs the bloodstained knife on the ground and throws it, and it cuts into his right shoulder. As he stepped back, a pained groan escaping him, she sprinted to the S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued emergency switch on the wall, but as her fingers brushed against the button he yanks her back with his left hand, and her fingers leave a bloody trail on the cream-colored walls.
A breeze blows through the curtains, and in the pale moonlight that shows she sees a dark red star on his arm. His metal arm.
Another scream escapes her as the fingers of his left hand dig into the cut on her back, peeling open the raw flesh in the wound. He punches her in the same spot that he kneed her, and she begins to cough up blood. She's pressed to the ground by the weight of his body, the cool metal of a gun placed at the back of her head. All rationality and pride leaves her in that moment, and she begins to feel cold panic seeping into her veins.
"Please," she begins to beg, as blood flows into her mouth and down her chin. "Please don't kill me. Oh god, please-"
"Заткнись." Shut up.
The gun presses harder into her skull, and a shuddering sob escapes her. Her body aches from the numerous bruises and wounds he'd inflicted on her in their fight. But she's tired, and now she realizes that ever since he passed, she's been ready for it. The cold shattered glass cuts into her knees as she finally relaxes.
She hears the sound of the trigger being pulled.
Bucky's been waiting for me for all these years. I'll get to see him again.
What she doesn't know is that she already has.
Because he promised.
9 of 9
It's mid-February, cold enough that Bucky could still wear a jacket and gloves without suspicion. He didn't know if he wanted to go, but Steve had told him that it was for the best.
And now, here they were, standing on the sidewalk and looking past the tall, wrought-iron fence.
Jackson Cemetery.
With a soft sigh, he stuffs both hands in his pockets and walks through the gates, following Steve. Steve had remarked jokingly about him looking like a "sad trash hobo", and told him to shave and gave him a haircut. And now, when he looks in the mirror, he no longer sees the Winter Soldier, but instead someone he only vaguely recognizes.
It scares him to some extent, this change, but as the days wear by he's feeling less like an impostor and more like who he was always meant to be. Not a skin, a shell of a person. Not the man called James Buchanan Barnes, nor the Winter Soldier. But the remainders of the two, some kind of molded, recreated and created being.
He still barely remembers her, the woman Steve tells him about, the woman he was supposed to marry when he came back. He only gets brief flashes of dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes, or dreams of a soft, feminine weight in his lap in which he'd always wake up with a strange warmth in his chest.
They walk unhurried along the rows on rows. Steve's searching for her in the pale markers, and he knows that Steve found her when he stops walking forward. He moves to stand next to Steve, and looks down, observing the gravestone.
Avalyn Bennet Tyler
Loved and missed by all, but never forgotten.
August 5th, 1918 – September 29th, 1957
September 29th, 1957
Suddenly, like a crashing wave of ice and heat and hurt, he feels the breath whoosh out of him.
Screams in the dark.
Hair whipping past, his fingers wrapped around her wrist.
Blood, smeared like fingerpaint on the walls.
The glint of a knife.
Shattered glass.
A gunshot.
He barely registers the feeling when he collapses on the ground beside the grave. Steve doesn't turn to look at him, no. Only into the distance. Where the sun is still shining in the gaps between the trees.
"I killed her."
"Yeah, you did." Steve's blue eyes flicker to his feet, and back to the distance.
"I…killed her." Bucky looks up at Steve, confusion in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Steve scoffs, a sound unnaturally cold coming from him. "And if I told you, what then? Would you have come in the first place? Or would she just have been another one of your burdens, another one of your bad memories that you push away for another day?"
He sighs, suddenly, the anger leaving his face. "Look, Bucky, I just wanted you to know that she loved you, all these years. I wanted you to visit her. She never moved on, Buck. You told her to wait, and she waited."
"And... now she's dead." Bucky reaches up with his metal hand, and lightly traces her name on the weathered stone. He stands up again, his eyes meeting Steve's.
"I killed her," he repeats, and his vision blurs as an incomparable amount of sadness fills him. He sniffs, wiping at his eyes. A sob escapes him, and Steve catches him this time as he slumps forward.
"And...and I loved her So, so goddamn much. I loved her."
Steve doesn't say anything.
But he does hold him up for a little while longer.
/