Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!

TW: cancer, alcohol, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied death

Recommended Listening: I'll be Seeing You by Billie Holiday, Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye by Ella Fitzgerald, Dream a little Dream of Me by Ella Fitzgerald Louis Armstrong, For All We Know by Nat King Cole


Ch 21: Goodbye Doesn't Mean Forever

He didn't often look in the mirror. He found it unsettling, looking at the unfamiliar person in the reflection, staring back at him. Yet, he'd grown accustomed to it, over the past months, since leaving Last Chance, sneaking glances while he was brushing his teeth or just after showering. He didn't really look at himself while shaving, almost entirely engrossed in the process, trying not to nick or catch his skin. The issue of his hair had, however, meant he'd spent more and more time looking in the mirror as he tried to decide what he wanted to do with the long and increasingly tangled mess of hair.

He'd never had his hair this long. While he'd had long hair with Hydra, that had been for purposes of a quick disguise if compromised. In the time before Hydra, he could distinctly remember Steve and most of his family commenting any time his hair even started brushing the tops of his ears. His mother had given him most of his haircuts growing up. He could recall sitting in the bright kitchen, on a stool, newspaper spread around him, the snip, snip, snip of his mother's scissors working diligently to cut his hair evenly. Later, after he'd moved out, Steve would cut his hair, and he'd learned to cut Steve's hair, though he'd been rotten at it.

Steve had always better at that kind of stuff, had a better eye for that type of thing, anyway.

He ran his fingers through the long tangled mass of wet hair, in a feeble attempt to untangle a rather nasty knotted mass, and winced.

He could practically hear his youngest sister, Becca, complaining as he tried to untangle her hair.

"Becca, I need you to hold still." He instructed firmly, the fingers of his left hand on the crown of her head, his right hand holding a brush.

"You're hurting me."

" I promise I'm trying not to." He said, glancing over his shoulder at his mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands chapped and bleeding, the slightest hint of a tremor to them as she grasped a hot mug of coffee, trying to ease some warmth and life into them.

" You're doing just fine, James." She urged encouragingly, in her even kind tone, reserved for frightened animals and small children.

He could hear the earnest way that Becca instructed him how to do her hair. Insisting that he do it over if he didn't get it right the first time. She couldn't have been more than six or seven at the time. Abigail and Rachel, they'd both be out of the house before Becca would be ready to go to school. He'd be getting off a night shift so he could help get Becca ready for school when their mother couldn't.

Reaching cautiously into the plastic shopping bag spread out on the bathroom sink, he removed a brush, an assortment of hair ties, and a package of scrunches in different colors. The clerk had asked if they were for his daughter. "For my little sister," he'd managed to mutter before leaving the store.

Pulling the brush through his hair, he winced and flinched as the brush bristles snagged and caught on the tangles.

No wonder Becca had always complained when I brushed her hair.

When he'd thoroughly brushed out his hair, he carefully selected a couple of brightly colored hair ties, one in neon orange, the other in a royal blue, along with a pink satin scrunchie and a cream satin scrunchie. They were frivolous and stupid and served no function beyond aesthetics, but he'd seen them, and they'd reminded him of the many hair ribbons his sisters had tied or braided into their hair as girls.

He held the scrunchies in both hands, the satin caught and snagged on the metal plates of the prosthesis, but they were soft and silky as he slipped them on his right wrist. Hair ties gritted between his teeth, he fumbled awkwardly, gathering his hair up into a single bun on top of his head. It was harder than he remembered it being but eventually managed to secure the mass of hair on the top his head with a hair tie, and the pink satin scrunchie.

He surveyed his reflection critically. Is that really what my ears look like? He mused silently. His face looked different without all the hair hanging around it. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was just strange.

"No." He shook his head, pulling both the scrunchie and tie from the bun and letting his hair fall freely back around his face.

How was it that his sisters had worn their hair when they were little? Braids and pigtails mostly, then as they'd gotten older, their hairstyles had gotten more complicated, involving pins and curlers, and every type of hair product you could imagine or make.

He parted his hair down the middle and gathered the two halves into two ponytails. First low at the base of his neck and then again on the crown of his head. Then he transformed them into buns.

Pausing to examine his work, he couldn't help but crack a small smile at his reflection. He could hear his sisters giggling as they ran their fingers through his hair. You don't have enough hair for curlers! They'd commented as they'd tried to put his hair up in pin curls.

He had more than enough hair for them now. He couldn't help but observe. He could practically hear his mother scolding him, James Buchanan Barnes, sit down and let me cut your hair right this instant! How could you have allowed it to get so long? He could see her go for the scissors she used specifically for cutting the family's hair. He could see Steve snickering in the corner, barely able to keep a straight face.

Of course, by the time he'd left, Abby and Rachel were grown women with jobs and lives of their own, and Bec, Bec, of course, had been well on her way. None of them had needed his help with their hair and hadn't for years. Yet, he couldn't help but think how simple it had all seemed, now, looking back, after everything that had happened.

He returned his gaze to the mirror. No. They're too visible, the colors too bright, you'd draw too much attention. He sighed, pulling the hair ties and scrunches from his hair and set them aside, picking up the brush again. How difficult everything seemed now.

Did she remember him? He couldn't help but wonder. Did she remember him helping her get ready for school in the morning, and how horribly he'd done her hair those first few times? Did she remember him at all? How long had it taken his family to stop speaking of him in the present tense, to stop speaking of him at all?

He shook his head. It wasn't his place to wonder that. His only responsibility was staying away, staying alive, and staying out of Hydra's hands.


Maggie was excited. She could tell by the way her knee was bouncing up and down in the seat as the familiar Brooklyn skyline came into view, and they turned down Becca's street. It had been a little while since she'd been able to meet up with Becca, and she had news. She'd been able to get clearer photos from security footage in Belfast, Copenhagen, and Berlin showing Bucky beating up street harassers. On top of that, she'd been able to narrow down where he was likely headed.

"I'll see you at four, Fabian!" She called into the car as she climbed out and shut the door behind her.

Running up the steps, she knocked on the door. "Hey Bec-" She faltered at the sight of James Martinez-Proctor. "Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't realize Becca had company, I can come back another time."

"No. No. Come on in Ms. Ramirez. She's expecting you." James waved her in the door. "How have you been?"

"Oh, busy. I trust you, and all of your family have been well," She replied as he ushered her into the living room. Maggie stopped, a sinking feeling of dread twisting in the pit of her stomach. Two of Becca's, daughters Mary and Stephanie, were sitting on the couch talking quietly but stopped when they saw her, turning their gazes to her.

"Mother is in her room resting. She told me to tell you to head on back whenever you arrived." James said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Maggie nodded but said nothing walking in an almost dream-like haze back to the master bedroom. This isn't what it looks like. It can't be. She repeated to herself like a mantra over and over and over again as if it would make it true.

Pausing in the doorway, she found Becca sitting in an overstuffed La-z-boy, a book on her lap, glasses in her hands, dozing quietly.

Maggie felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room, and she was suffocating. She had been here before, and she knew what came next.

"How long have you been standing there, dear?" Becca's voice brought her back, rooting her solidly in the moment.

"Just showed up." Maggie smiled weakly. "You sure you're feeling up for visitors?"

"Of course." She nodded. Scooting over in the chair, Becca pat the space beside her. "Come here and tell me your news. You sounded excited in your texts, and I wanted to hear it in person."

Maggie obliged, settling down beside Becca in the large chair, she opened up her satchel and removed the photographs she'd made of the security footage. It all felt hollow. "So. You know how I told you back in mid-February that Bucky had been protecting people, women, and girls mostly, from street harassers and the like? Well, I was able to gain access to the security feeds and caught a few clips of him. In the act." She said, holding them out for Becca.

"That's wonderful," Becca said, taking each of the photographs one by one in hand and surveying them carefully.

"And I think I may have found a lead that will narrow down his location."

Becca set the photographs down and turned and looked at her, meeting her gaze fully for the first time. "You really have been working very hard, Maggie. I appreciate it tremendously, as do all of my children."

"Of course. I want to bring your brother home. I want you to be able to see him again."

"I know sweet girl." Becca smiled sadly, grabbing Maggie's hand, squeezed it weakly. "I know. But sometimes things don't work out the way we'd like them to."

So it was true. Everything that Maggie hadn't been putting together was true. The prolonged sickness, the increase of family, Steve's weird moods. Becca was dying. Maggie nodded, swallowing hard as a lump formed in her throat. "How long?"

"A few weeks, a month at most. But I've known for a while now, cancer's a terrible thing, but it's given me enough time to put my affairs in orders." Becca paused as an errant tear slipped down Maggie's cheek. "Now Now." She said, wiping Maggie's face. "It's okay. I'm not in any pain, and I'm living out my last days the way I want. Surrounded by the people I love and who love me very much."

Why didn't you tell me,' Maggie wanted to ask. But that wasn't her place really, it wasn't any of her business, but she felt hurt and betrayed.

"I didn't want you to fret, and I didn't want to ruin our lovely visits with the dark specter of my frail mortality," Becca said gently. "Please don't cry for me. I've lived a wonderful life."

Maggie nodded, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't find him in time." She choked out, her voice small.

"Oh no, don't do that." Becca shushed. "I've known for a while now I wasn't going to see him again." The woman paused, her thoughts going far away before she pulled herself back. "If I'm honest with myself, I'm not sure I'd want him to see me like this. I think perhaps it's better this way. To be able to remember one another as we were, not what the world made us into." She said, taking Maggie's hand again. "What matters, Magdalen is that Bucky brought you and me together."

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't be here if not for him, and I wouldn't have gotten to talk about my brother again if not for you." Maggie opened her mouth to interject, but Becca charged on. "You've helped me to talk about someone I loved dearly, but hadn't spoken of since he'd disappeared. You helped me process and heal and grieve in so many ways that I can't possibly express, but I am extraordinarily grateful to you." Becca smiled wearily. "Bit by bit I've been giving him to you, you know, my Bucky, that way when you find him, and I know you will, you can tell him that his little sister, and all of his family for that matter, never forgot about him and that we loved him very much."

"I'll do my best." Maggie managed weakly.

"I know you will. And that's all that I can ask of you, all anyone can ask of another person." Becca said, surveying Maggie's face, she cracked a small smile. "I know I've said this before, but it's a shame we didn't meet sooner. I've had such a good time getting to know you. I can only imagine how we would've gotten along and gotten into trouble back in the day. Bucky, my Bucky, would have loved you."

Maggie chuckled, shaking her head, "Thank you, Becca." She could hardly imagine anyone, least of all Bucky Barnes giving her the time of day. Above all, Maggie couldn't imagine being in a place that allowed her a relationship, not when it felt like every time she started to build something with another person, they were ripped away from her. It had happened too many times, and now it appeared it was happening again.

"Oh, I know you don't believe me, but I know it true because I love you, so very very much, Magdalen," Becca said.

There was a long pause while Becca plotted out what she was going to say next. "It's not your job to look after Steve. He's a grown man, he should be able to take of himself, but-" Becca wavered. "Don't let him forget who he is, beneath all of the Captain America bullshit. Make sure he remembers that there is life beyond all of that waiting for him."

Maggie chuckled but nodded. "I will absolutely do my best on that."

"Good." Becca smiled. "Now, before I send you on your way home, I think I have a couple more stories left in me. If you're interested in hearing them."

"Always," Maggie said.

They talked for nearly four hours. When Becca ran out of stories, Maggie asked questions about family holidays and traditions, what foods she remembered Steve and Bucky had liked, doing anything and everything to drag out the time, and keep the clock from marching unrelentingly forward. Yet, onward and onward time marched, and Maggie knew their last visit would be drawing to a definitive close. As the older woman began to nod off in the chair beside her, Maggie knew it was time. "I should let you get some rest," Maggie said gently, collecting her things she rose from the chair.

"You're a good girl." Becca smiled. "Come here." She waved Maggie to her. Immersing her in a hug, Becca stroked the back of her head. "You're a wonderful person and a beautiful, beautiful soul, Magdalen, it's been an honor and privilege getting to know you."

"Thank you, Becca, thank you for everything." Maggie could feel the tears starting again, and she'd been doing so well too.

"Of course, my dear." Becca smiled as they pulled apart from their embrace. Becca held Maggie's hands in both hers, her thumbs stroking Maggie's hands. "It's going to be okay. You know that, right? No matter what happens. It's going to be all right."

Maggie took a deep breath and nodded, blinking slowly. She didn't want to say goodbye, didn't want to let go, didn't want to walk out the door knowing that she would never see her friend again. "I know."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Becca." Maggie managed, tears now flowing down her face.

"You have so much to live for, dear girl. Don't let the past weigh you down." Becca said.

Maggie nodded again, turning at the sound of a knock at the door. It was James. "I'm sorry to interrupt. It's time for meds and dinner. If you'd like to stay, Ms. Ramirez, we have plenty ."

Maggie staggered to her feet, wiping her face. "No. No. I should go. I don't want to take up any more of your time." She turned to Becca, squeezing the woman's frail hand gently. "Sleep well. We'll talk soon." Maggie tried to smile.

"Send Stark my regards."

"Always." Maggie nodded, letting go of Becca's hand, walked past James, from the bedroom and out of the apartment where Fabian was waiting for her. She didn't look back. She knew that if she had, the whole world would've crumbled, and she would've collapsed on the pavement right then and there.

Maggie rode back to the tower in silence, clutching her bag to her, her hands clenched on the canvas, her jaw gritted. Walking into her apartment, she made a beeline for the office, pulling open her files, and removing her journal from her bag. She tried to focus on her breathing, trying to regulate her heartbeat, tried to bend her body and her mind around the single objective she was now striving toward. She had to find James Barnes. She had to find James Barnes before it was too late. Nothing else mattered. Becca deserved closure, deserved to see her brother again, even one last time, and Maggie wanted to make sure that happened.

Her hands moved frantically over her files, adrenaline and grief, and anger making her shake. Her eyes focused on the computer screen scrolling through every map, SAT scan, every bit of intel they'd collected since last May.

It took everything she had, every fiber of her being to remain calm, and keep focused as a cauldron of emotions bubbled and boiled just below the surface, threatening to overflow at any given moment. Her head ached, and her eyes watered, but she continued working, trying to overtake Barnes and the clock.

Beneath it all, a single ember burned, white-hot, burning a jagged hole in her. This was unfair. What was worse was that she knew it was unfair because she'd been here before, and she hated it. She hated how it had been kept from her, hated what it meant, hated that she'd failed.

"Come in. It's unlocked," She called absently at the knock at the door.

"How you holding up?"

Maggie stopped, blinking blearily, she looked over the computer screen to the doorway where Sam was standing. "What do you mean?"

"Steve told me, about Becca," Sam said, haltingly.

"You mean, he knew?" Maggie asked. The room dropped several degrees.

"Mags- I-"

"Tell me he didn't know, Sam." Again Sam said nothing, and Maggie could feel the tight knot in her chest constrict. "Sammie?" Maggie's voice cracked.

"He knew she was sick. He didn't know she was dying until November."

Her birthday. The low, hushed conversation as she'd woken up to. The strange mood he'd been in all through the holidays. It all made sense. He'd known Becca was dying, and he hadn't told her anything. He'd known, and he hadn't hinted that maybe they should hurry up, that maybe Maggie should do better, that maybe there was something urgent about their search for Barnes. Steve had known her friend was dying and had said nothing.

"Sam, where is he?" She asked her voice, choked with tears.

"Mags-"

"Sam, where is he!?" She snapped her voice echoing in the small space.

"Croatia."

"And he sent you to clean up his mess, did he? Great." Maggie drawled sarcastically, wiping at the tears streaming down her face.

"Mags."

"Did you know Sam? Did you keep this from me too?"

"No. Steve just told me about thirty minutes ago."

"So you are here to clean up his mess. Perfect." Maggie laughed harshly as she rose to her feet.

"What do you want me to say, Mags?" Sam asked, following her to the kitchen.

"Not a damn thing, Sammie. I don't expect you to do anything." Maggie said, pulling a bottle of wine off the counter, she opened it and took a large draw.

Lowering the bottle, she walked back toward the office. "So. What's our move? Where do we look for Barnes next?"

"Mags."

"We know he's in Europe. We know he's in Eastern Europe." She went to the map, taking another drink from the bottle.

"Mags."

"So what are we missing? What have we overlooked? What am I not seeing?" She muttered.

"Mags. You're upset. You need to slow down and process."

"I can't, Sammie." She shook her head.

"Can't? Or won't?"

Maggie raised the bottle to her lips, then reconsidered. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head, wincing.

Sam sighed, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find Barnes." Her voice came out choked and small. "There isn't another option."

"We've been looking since-"

"Since Hydra burned our house to the ground, smashed my hand, and left me for dead." She cut him off, whirling around to face him. "That about sum it up?" Maggie bit out with a harsh laugh. "I need to do this, Sam. I need to find Bucky. I need to bring him home so Becca can have closure so that they can say goodbye."

"And what if you can't?" Sam asked.

"That's not an option."

"You know that's not true."

She looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears before continuing in a low, more controlled tone. "Sam. This is Becca Barnes. This is the little sister of James Barnes, Steve's best friend and lover. After all the shit Bucky has gone through, and Becca has gone through, they deserve to say goodbye, properly. They deserve better."

There was a long pause before Sam spoke. "Mags. This isn't Antonio. This isn't your mother, or your grandfather, or Riley. You can't change what happened to you by trying to find Barnes for Becca Proctor."

Maggie didn't say anything. She just rolled her eyes, and she took another drink.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I'm not hungry."

"I can make you something."

"Sammie."

"You should probably eat something, Mags."

Maggie turned to him, "You don't have to do this, Sam."

"Do what?"

"Pretend that I'm anything more than just a painful memory," She said weakly. "That's what I was to my father after my brother and mother died. That's what I was to my grandfather there near the end, and that's what I am to you."

There was a long silence as Sam worked out what to say. "Is that really all you think you are?"

Maggie shook her head, finishing off the rest of the wine. "Doesn't matter." She walked over to her desk and dropped the empty wine bottle in the recycling can under her desk. She exhaled a strangled sigh as she saw her phone buzz. It was Steve.

"You going to answer that?" Sam asked.

"You tell him to call me?" Maggie replied, sending the call to voice mail.

"He wants to talk to you."

"I don't have anything to report, and I have work to do." She said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

"Mags. You can't avoid him. He wants to talk to you. He needs you to understand-"

"I know why he didn't tell me. Becca didn't want him to. She didn't want me to fret before I needed to, didn't want me to be sad or be worried, or whatever. She did it to protect me." Maggie said shortly as she logged back into her computer. "I don't feel protected, and I don't feel protected by him at the moment."

"You know he's grieving too."

"He's not my partner, brother, father, or son. His feelings are not my problem right now, not if he wants me to find Barnes any time this century."

"He is your friend, and you're his."

"Is he? Because I don't think friends would keep something like this from their friends. Best intentions and all of that be dammed."

Sam sighed, nodding. "You're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Eventually." She echoed. "Thank you for stopping by. You can report to Steve that I'm pissed, but ready to work to bring Barnes in." She said shortly.

"All right, I get it. You want to be left alone." He said. "I'll be around if you decide you want company."

"Can do."

Sam hesitated in the doorway of the office, "Be careful, Maggie," he said finally before walking from the office and from the apartment.

Maggie exhaled a long and shaking breath as the front door shut behind him. She wanted to call him back, wanted to apologize, wanted to ask him to hold her while she sobbed, ask him to tell her it was going to be okay, but nothing her or anyone could do or say at the moment was going to make this better. She had to focus on the task ahead of her, she had one job, one mission, one objective, and she was going to fulfill it, consequences be damned.

"Okay, Maggie, focus, you don't have long." She wiped at the tears streaking her cheeks.

Then, slowly she reached down to the bottom drawer of the desk, unlocked it, and removed the thick sealed packet Romanoff had given her months ago. The point of no return.

If I can't find Barnes, I can't go home. She fingered the seal, swallowing hard. If I can't bring Barnes home to say goodbye to his sister, then do I really deserve to go home? Maggie broke the seal and opened the file. Setting it on the desk, she adjusted her chair, picked up a pencil and her notebook, and extended her left hand to the first page, ignoring the way that her whole body trembled.

"Well," She sniffled to the office and the world in general, "there's nothing else for it. Let's get to work."


Full disclosure, the next two chapters are dealing with the fall out from this chapter. I will be posting in rapid succession to get the chapters out of the way. Thank you all for reading I look forward to hearing what you all think. (*dodges the rotten fruit* I know I know I'm mean I'm sorry!) As always I love hearing from you and love chatting fic with all you guys! I hope you enjoyed? And See you next time!

~Happy Reading!