It takes a few minutes of wandering for him to find her, and when he does he's not sure what to do. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares silently at the cold stone in front of him.
Amelia Curtis.
She got married to someone else.
While he was frozen in time, she grew older and got married and became a mother. He met one of her sons, a middle aged man named James. He couldn't believe his ears when he had introduced himself.
She lived her life as she was supposed to. And then she had died of old age just a few years ago, in 2008 according to her headstone. Her family mourned but eventually healed, and now there was just a headstone left of her, marking her final resting place. An ordinary ending to an ordinary human life.
Except...
Except Amelia was anything but ordinary to him. She was a firecracker, full of life and joy. She was a fighter and stubborn, and he loved her, and he was supposed to be the one she grew old with. His chest heaves as he feels burning rage overcome him, rage at Hydra for stealing that lifetime from him.
He wants to mourn for his Mia, but Hydra has denied him even that. Any softness was beaten out of him years ago by Hydra agents, and no tears come to his eyes as he looks at her headstone. There is only the terrible emptiness in his chest as if his heart has been turned to stone. Maybe it was better this way. He'll never get to see his Mia again, never hear her laugh or run his fingers through her hair. He'll never even get to tell her goodbye.
"Bucky."
He bristles at the sound of the new voice but doesn't turn. Of course Captain America would turn up here. He was friends with Amelia too, he had been foolish to think he wouldnt search for her too.
"Leave," he says, his voice full of ice. His fingers twitch, and he curls them into a fist to prevent them from grabbing Albert Fowler's dagger.
"You know I can't do that," the Captain says. The soldier grunts but still doesn't face the other man. His every instinct is telling him to kill him, get rid of Captain America, the man who has already escaped his grasp twice. But those were Hydra's orders, and what better revenge for stealing away his life was there than letting the Captain live?
He turns.
Obviously he knows the Captain is a force to be reckoned with; he's nearly had his ass handed to him quite a few times by this man, even before Hydra managed to get their hands on him. But for a few moments all he can see is the skinny little twerp Bucky befriended in his childhood, and the difference is jarring. He recalls the fights Steve would get himself into only for him to find he was far outmatched, and his lips twitch like they want to curl upward into a smile.
"You know, for a ghost, you left behind quite the breadcrumb trail," the man snarks, and the soldier's features fall into a familiar scowl. He should have just killed him when he had the chance.
"Can I help you?" He grinds out between his teeth. The Captain grins at him.
"You know, now that you mention it, I do believe you can," he says. "Hydra is still out there, Bucky, and eventually they're going to come looking for you. If you come with me-"
"No."
"I'm trying to help you, Buck. I'm trying to keep you safe from Hydra."
"No," he repeats. He may be letting the Captain live, but he owes him nothing. He knows Hydra will never get ahold of him because no one in Hydra is anywhere near a match for him. He doesn't need to be babysat by Captain America.
"Please," the Captain begs, "please let me help you."
"I don't trust you," he spits forcefully.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he says with an apologetic smile. "Well, if you're not coming with me, may I at least have a moment alone before I leave?" The Captain gestures to Amelia's grave.
"No," the soldier snarls ferally. He knows he's being selfish. He knows. Amelia was his friend too.
But the Captain just shrugs. "Suit yourself." he sits on the ground in front of the headstone with a small smile.
"Hey Amelia," he says. "It's been an awful long time, but look! All three of us are together again. Sort of. I told you we'd always find our way back to each other."
"What are you doing?" the soldier growls.
"I'm talking to her," the Captain shrugs. "I like to think she can hear me. You can hear me, can't you Amelia? Bucky doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Don't call me that," he warns, his fingers closing around the handle of the dagger of their own accord.
"But it's your name. It's who you are."
"No it's not!" He tightens His grip on the dagger and brandishes it in front of him. Instead of responding to his challenge and fighting him, though, the Captain turns back to the headstone.
"Jeez, Amelia, you were going to marry him? Although I guess things were a bit different back then. They weren't so complicated. We weren't so complicated."
"Stop that. She can't hear you. She's dead."
The soldier stops short. That simple acknowledgement breaks down some wall inside him, and he remembers everything about his Mia. He remembers her smile and the way she smelled and how he felt whenever he was around her. He remembers the simpler times when they were all just children, how he used to yank on her ponytail and how she would yell. He remembers when they got older and how he could never seem to stop thinking about her. He remembers the feeling he would get in his chest when she smiled at him and how much he loved making her laugh. He remembers falling from the train thinking only of his Mia and how he'd never get to kiss her goodbye. She was his entire world.
The dagger falls harmlessly at his feet.
"Mia's dead."
The Captain sighs heavily and twists to face him. "I really am sorry," he says softly. "If it makes you feel any better, I know exactly how it feels."
"How can you?"
"Back during the war there was this woman, Peggy," he continues. "You knew her too. Man, I thought she was the one. I thought I would marry her. But then I crashed that plane into the Arctic, and I woke up in a new century. Peggy moved on, had a family, lived her life. She's old now, she has some form of dementia."
"You have no idea what I feel."
"Bucky-"
"You don't," he insists. "She's still alive. You can still talk to her. I can't. You'll be able to tell her goodbye. I don't get that."
He crosses his arms and stares hard at Amelia's name on the stone. He tries to will himself to cry but nothing happens, and he lets out a growl of frustration. He can't even mourn for her like a normal human.
He's suddenly jealous of the Captain. He can cry and scream and sob for Amelia all he wants. He has all his memories intact. He's America's mascot or something along those lines and is celebrated as a hero.
And meanwhile the soldier is lost and confused, branded a villain. Brainwashed and left with half-there memories that don't even make sense. He doesn't even know what to call himself. All he knows for sure is he loves Amelia Fowler, but she can't help him anymore. She's not even Amelia Fowler. He doesn't know why he expected anything different. He's a villain, and villains don't get happy endings.
With and infuriated roar, the soldier scoops the dagger up again and hurls it as hard as he can at a nearby tree. Much to his satisfaction the point of the blade buries itself a few inches into the bark and a hand on his shoulder makes him leap away. He crouches in a defensive position, ready to spring away if the Captain tries to touch him again. The man holds his hands up in front of him, a peace offering.
"I know you must be angry and sad," the Captain says slowly. "And I know you don't trust me. But you were my best friend when we were kids, the best friend I've ever had, and I want to help you."
"Help me do what?" The soldier snarls. "Blend in? Be like a normal human? Disappear?"
"I can help you remember. I can help you piece together your memories." The Captain takes a tentative step toward him. "Back in 1941 when my mom died, you took me in so I wouldn't have to be on my own. You saw me at my lowest and you lifted me up. You gave me a family and a home when I had none, and I have never, ever forgotten that. So please, let me return the favor."
Steve takes another step and offers him a small smile and his hand.
Bucky Barnes accepts it.
I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! I know I'm a horrible person. Please don't kill me; really guys those flaming sporks aren't necessary.
I was wondering something, though. There are a few things I had written for this story, sort of like deleted scenes or something like that, but I couldn't make them fit. Would you guys want me to post those? They would just be put as additional chapters of this. Let me know!