Chapter 26

"We've got clearance to land at an airstrip in Russia to refuel before we head to the final destination," Steve mumbled from the pilot's seat in the Quinjet.

"This thing can't make the whole trip?" Bucky grumbled from his seat behind Steve.

"Hey," Sam interjected next to him. "Just be glad you don't have to hijack a plane to get there yourself. Or something equally as illegal."

"I wasn't planning to hijack a plane," Bucky muttered under his breath.

"I'll hijack a plane and come find you," Connie was muttering good naturedly.

"You don't even know how to fly a plane," Bucky laughed. "How are you going to take one?"

Connie waved him away as if he'd just suggested something ridiculous and smoothed out her skirt over her crossed legs. "Little details. I'm not stressing myself out over it right now."

"Little details," he scoffed, flipping through the menu he knew by heart. He chewed the inside of his cheek, not really seeing the words on the paper in front of him. His mind was focused on how to bring up something that had been bothering him for a while. "Hey, Connie?"

"Hmm?" she was leaning into her hand propped up on the table, watching a little boy across the dining room try to climb into the chair by himself. When Bucky didn't speak, she turned her full attention to him, pressing her lips together at his calmer face, only a gentle smile on his lips. "What's the matter?"

Bucky dropped the menu onto the table and ran the palm of his hand down his jaw as he hesitated. "Did you mean it? What you said before?" he began hesitantly, a decidedly out-of-character trait that Connie decided didn't suit him one bit.

"Of course, darling," she said airily. "I will hijack a plane and come find you."

Bucky let out a laugh through his nose and shook his head. "No—not that," he mumbled, taking her hands across the table. "Connie, look, if something happens to me, I don't want you to get hung up on me, alright?"

Connie gently removed her hands from his and sat up straight, all amusement gone from her face. "I don't like talking like this."

"I know," Bucky sighed. "I wish I didn't have to. But you said we'd go dancing when I come back—"

"I meant that."

"—I know," he continued with a smile, "but I don't want you feeling like you have to wait for me. I mean, if a better-lookin' guys comes along and sweeps you off your feet while I'm away, I can't exactly argue against your happiness."

Connie frowned. "Bucky—"

"I just want you to be happy. I don't know how long I'll be away," Bucky explained. "I can't expect you to wait until the war is over. And if I don't even come back—"

"We are not talking that way," Connie hissed.

"Then just promise me you won't make yourself unhappy on my account."

"I promise nothing."

"Connie…" Bucky sighed as the conversation quieted while the waitress took their orders. But he wasn't about to let it drop as she walked away. "I'm trying to be realistic here."

Connie's jaw clenched and she gripped the table in front of her. "Bucky. I'm with you now. I want to be with you. I will write to you whenever you ship off. Let's just start there." She pursed her lips, but seemed to calm down slowly. "We'll deal with whatever happens when it happens, alright?"

But Bucky couldn't let it drop. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to wait—"

"Do you not like me?" Connie demanded. "Are you trying to push me away? I am confused."

"That's not it at all," he defended quickly. "I do want to be with you, I just know how things with the war can go."

"I'm well versed, Bucky." Connie gave him a sad smile and instantly he felt like the biggest jerk.

"You're dad," he breathed. "Right, I'm sorry."

"Like I said," Connie began, her tone lighter. "I'm going to hijack a plane and come see you. So it's a moot point really."

"Oh yeah, doll?" Bucky grinned as the waitress brought them their food. He watched as she picked up a fry and ran it through a puddle of ketchup she'd poured on the edge of her plate. "So what do you plan on doing with yourself while I'm away?"

She hummed in thought as she chewed. "I was thinking about looking into being a nurse."

Bucky tilted his head, suspicious, but curious. "Like an army nurse?"

Connie shrugged. "Here or overseas, as long as I was helping people. I want to do my part to help people."

Bucky smiled fondly as he took a bite of his burger.

"What?" Connie demanded, catching the look on his face.

Bucky shook his head. "Nothin'. Just what Steve says all the time," he said with a simple shrug.

"What do you think?" she asked slowly.

"I think it's a great idea."

"Really?"

Bucky frowned at her surprise. "Yeah. I mean, you're smart enough you could probably be a doctor if you wanted to. Might take a bit of fighting, but there have a been a coupla dames—"

Connie chuckled. "Nursing is fine for now, I think."

"Well, I think you'd make a damn fine nurse," he said with a wink. "Can treat me any day. Sure do have the beautiful eyes for a nurse."

Connie let out a genuine laugh and swatted at him. "Stop it. Nursing is more than looks."

"Hmm. Then it's a good think you're pretty damn charming, too, huh?"

Connie rolled her eyes and finally bit into her own burger.

-x-

Steve glanced back at Bucky when he finally heard him shift. He'd been staring straight ahead in a daze, unresponsive for several hours. At first, Steve had panicked, but Sam was the one to silence him. "Welcome back," he murmured over his shoulder.

Bucky grunted and unbuckled his seatbelt to shift, feeling a familiar ache from becoming stagnant for too long. "How long we been flying?"

"Not even half way," Steve replied. He glanced over his shoulder and studied his friends face for a second. "Not a bad memory then?"

"Connie," Bucky muttered.

"Who's she?" Sam asked, curiosity taking over.

"Clara's grandmother."

"She told you?" Steve sounded a little surprised.

"A while ago."

Sam held up a hand. "Wait, wait, you knew Clara's grandma?" he studied Bucky in the silence, the way he subtly looked away, and let out a short laugh. "No way, you were into her grandma? This is some weird time travel shit right here."

"Can we stop?" Bucky ground out, looking more towards Steve to get him to agree and shut his bird-friend up. "Let me see your phone."

Steve's eyebrows rose, another look over his shoulder to confirm that Bucky had addressed him, and then pulled the device from a pocket near his belt. "What for?"

"I want to see her obituary."

Sam blinked at him. "That's morbid as hell."

Bucky pressed his lips together as he opened the browser, thankful Clara had gotten him up to date on the use of smartphones. "I want to see if she ever became a nurse," he muttered after a minute of fruitless searching. "I can't find it though."

"Do you know when she died?" Sam asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"'95."

Sam shook his head. "Probably won't be online, then. You'd need archives of her local paper, maybe."

Bucky tried every search he could think of. Her married name, her maiden name, anything. He started to feel and intense frustration building up, and decided to stop before it ruined his focus any further.

"I can't remember if she ever wrote me while I was away."

"She did," Steve replied surely. "I remember we got back from one of our longer missions and there were a stack of letters waiting for you."

"I wish I could remember," Bucky muttered bitterly.

"Have you asked Clara if she has any of the letters?" Sam asked suddenly. Bucky just looked at him blankly. "I mean, if she has her grandmother's diaries, she probably has other belongings. But man, to be honest, I wouldn't stress too much about what you don't remember. It's not going to change anything. What happened, happened, and you should just be worried about the future right now."

Bucky took a slow, deep breath. "If all I have are my memories of how things were, then that's enough for now, but I don't even have that. Half-knowing is driving me insane."

Sam left it at that, knowing emotions and stress were running too high for a productive conversation about it. They lapsed into silence for a few more hours, landing once somewhere on the edge of Russia to refuel before finally taking to the air for a final flight to Siberia.