Jen had left sometime later that evening, which gave Kim a chance to spend quality with her grandmother. Sunday nights had been designated as movie night for them, the only day of the week when they took a break from dancing and simply spent time together. It used to be a tradition with her family, and Rebecca intended to keep that alive for her.

In her grandmother's room, Return of the Jedi was playing on the small television screen atop the far dresser. It was by far Kim's favorite of all the Star Wars movies, and she could recite every line from the film verbatim. Not only was she a sucker for classic tales of good versus evil, but she'd also harbored a small crush on Luke Skywalker ever since she was a little girl. Scotty used to tease her about that all the time, though she didn't really mind being called a Jedi-lover. Rebecca often complained about how frequently she watched the film, and, just to playfully spite her, Kim would pick this as the movie she wanted to watch on most weekends. But no matter how many times Rebecca would roll her eyes in exasperation, she always ended up giving in with a smile.

The movie, however, was not holding her immediate attention. Instead, she was working diligently to update her blog, fingers flying over the keys of her laptop as she typed out her sentences. The jog earlier in the day had done her mind and body a great deal of good, and she was actually eager to report on her ever-improving running skills. It was true: she felt like her muscles were getting stronger and stronger the more she worked with this prosthetic, and she could imagine the possibilities that such artificial appendages could hold for others. Stark would no doubt be pleased to see this update from her, and it may even prevent him from asking any probing questions about the assistance she'd requested of him the other night.

It wasn't just her cardiovascular activities that Stark would be interested in, though. She'd also detailed the surprising discovery she'd made while stomping her foot on the ground a few nights ago: the unexpected kick-back that had resulted from her actions. Of course, she had to fib a little on the circumstances leading to the discovery, but she managed to concoct a plausible story that would satisfy her readers.

After a few minutes, she hit the pause button on the movie. "Okay, see if this sounds better to you," she said, as if holding a conversation with her grandmother.

She proceeded to read the revised version aloud to her, making sure it sounded grammatically correct to her ears before posting it online. Even if Rebecca couldn't vocalize her thoughts, Kim still kept her involved her in the tasks that were important to her.

Halfway through the entry, she paused at an awkward phrase. "Wait, that's not right," she deleted a couple words and tried again. When she re-read the sentence, it sounded much better to her ears. "That's better. 'I seriously spent an hour in the backyard today testing out how hard I needed to stomp my foot in order for this to happen again. My results varied based on the amount of force I used: if I tap the ground with my toe, walk, or even run like I normally do, nothing happens. But the harder I stomp, the greater the amount kick-back I get. Depending I tried this several different times, and I have quite a few bruises from where I fell over to prove it.'" She glanced slyly at Rebecca. "See? I didn't say 'bruises on my butt' like I wanted to," she playfully stuck out her tongue.

Rebecca, of course, said nothing.

She tried to ignore the small sting she felt in her heart, and forced herself to read on. "It's hard to say how and why this is occurring, though. I'm not sure if this is something Stark intended to have happen, which is why I want to discuss it further with him. He made no mention of it when he first fitted me for this leg. Has this always been possible? Is it just a freak accident? Is it due to the increased muscle tone in my legs? Does something like adrenaline trigger the stimulator and cause a certain reaction with this model? I don't know. I'll admit that being able to do this kind of thing is cool, but I can also see how someone could get hurt, or even potentially misuse this ability." One thing Stark had asked her to be was very candid in her feedback on this device, even if they were negative criticisms. It would aid him in building better prosthetics for countless others in the future, and he had to be aware of any kinks or flaws or abnormalities she happened to discover. "Still, I can't say that it might not come in handy the next time I'm about to fall flat on my face and need a way to bounce back upright."

She gave a small smile at her closing quip, but it quickly vanished when she was met by deafening silence. This was where she would give her overall impression of the piece her granddaughter had just written, and where she might give her pointers on how to make it better. But the surrounding quiet ensued, and it made her heart feel heavy.

Sighing slowly, she looked over at Rebecca, who was peering at her beneath heavy-hooded eyes. Kim discreetly bit her lip; she looked exhausted, and it was no wonder. Earlier in the day, her blood pressure level had dropped quite low, which Jen attributed to potential dehydration. Apparently, this was not uncommon for persons on bed-rest, but at the time, that had provided very little comfort to Kim.

She's only going to get worse from here, Jen had said. Repeatedly.

I know, she mentally countered, eyes briefly squeezing shut. You tell me every damn day…

Clicking the button to post her entry, she powered down her laptop and finally set it aside, knowing that her grandmother needed rest. Reaching for the nightstand, she retrieved the moisture swabs Jen had instructed her to use that evening, and came close to Rebecca's side.

"Okay, Grandma, come on," she coaxed, bringing a swab to her lips. "One more time, then you can sleep. Come on." It took a few tries, but she managed to push it past her rigid lips. Just as Jen had showed her, she gently forced her mouth open and wiped the insides of her cheeks, being careful not to make her choke when she gave a few swipes across her tongue. It wasn't much, but at least it would provide a small degree of hydration for her.

Once she'd finished caring for her grandmother, Kim sat back and watched as Rebecca's eyes closed, and waited until the steady rise and fall of her chest indicated a state of deep sleep. Scooting her chair closer to her bedside, she un-paused the movie, but while her ears heard the dialogue from the movie, her attention remained on the elder woman's face. With everything her body had gone through, she looked as though she'd aged a great deal within a week's time. The thought greatly saddened Kim, who reached out to cover Rebecca's left hand with hers. She knew she wouldn't be able to feel it.

"That face you make," Yoda announced from the television. "Look I so old to young eyes?"

Yes. You do, she thought to her grandmother.

Stroking a thumb over the back of her bony hand, she thought back on brighter times. Less than six months ago, Rebecca had joined her on after-dinner walks down Maynard Street; would curse out loud while reading a newspaper article about a politician who greatly angered her; would laugh when Kim insisted every year that the only thing she needed for Christmas was a plate of homemade holiday cookies; debated with Kim about issues they constantly disagreed on, such as gay marriage and birth control.

Then other images came to mind, not nearly as bright, but significant nonetheless. Over four years ago, Rebecca had stared long and hard at Kim in the hospital following her suicide attempt, the disappointment in her eyes forever etched into Kim's memory.

The long, serious discussions they had about the potential Kim still held for the world, even after losing her leg. She had, after all, survived that crash for a reason.

The moments when they would clash heads—mainly over communication issues—and the compromises they made in order to overcome those problems.

The endless encouragement she received from Rebecca, no matter how rough the physical therapy sessions were on her body.

The pride in her eyes whenever Kim left to volunteer with the Iron Wings group.

A sudden sense of dread jolted through her: only last week, she'd been able to talk to her…

"Master Yoda, you can't die."

"Strong am I with the Force, but not that strong. Twilight is upon me, and soon, night must fall. That is the way of things…"

Kim's vision began to blur with unshed tears as the inevitable, horrific truth clawed mercilessly at her chest.

Grandma's going to die, her mind echoed woefully. Grandma's going to die…

As strong as she tried to be, as much as vowed not to cry in from of her grandmother, she lay her head upon the side of the bed and just let the tears flow. It wasn't full on, gut-wrenching sobs, but she felt herself weeping weakly as she clasped her hand. It hurt to hold in the tears, took so much of her energy to do so, but as long as Rebecca was asleep, this was her chance to purge herself of the raw emotions eating away at her heart. She knew Steve would have encouraged this as well.

Feeling another sting of pain seize her chest, she rubbed her damp cheeks against the thick, white comforter. It smelled like her.

Grandma, she thought, taking a shaky breath and crying a bit harder. It just..hurts so much.

I love you. It hurts…

She only made it about halfway through the movie. Rebecca had long since fallen asleep anyway, so Kim made sure to remember to do the things needed to take care of herself, too.

First and foremost, she decided a shower was in order. In a way, the warmth of the water helped her relax a bit, and she had to admit how good it felt to wash the tears from her face. After combing through her towel-dried hair and re-attaching her prosthetic, she changed into her night clothes, which consisted of a loose shirt and yoga pants. Even though it was only going on seven o'clock, she wanted to be in something comfortable.

As she made her way downstairs, she pulled her still damp hair into a low ponytail, debating with herself about what she should possibly make for—

As she rounded the banister at the bottom of the stairs, the unexpected sight of Bucky in the hallway sent her flying backwards with a great gasp of shock. It took everything in her not to scream.

Holy shit! Her mind hissed harshly, the strength in her legs giving out as she sank back to the steps with a thud. She didn't realize a hand had flown to her chest, and she could feel the rapid heartbeat pounding beneath the expanse of her palm.

"Kim?" Bucky's questioning voice sounded concerned.

Her eyes closed. Breathe. Breathe.

"Kim."

"Jesus…Christ, Bucky! You nearly gave me a freaking heart attack," she managed to accuse, then opened her eyes to glare at him. He appeared incredibly uncertain as he looked at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He hesitated a moment, then replied with, "Waiting for you. The back door was unlocked."

She blinked. That was true: on the off-hand chance that he might return, Kim had left the sliding door unlocked for him. Obviously, her hunch had been right. "How long have you been here?"

"A while," he answered vaguely.

She continued to stare at him, then heaved an overwhelmed sigh. "Yeah, well…next time you come in, just make sure you yell up, or…make some noise. Or something. You can't scare the crap out of me like that, okay?"

His brows knit, making him appear conflicted with himself. "I'm sorry."

She knew he truly was, and she felt an inkling of guilt for troubling him. Shaking her head, she waved off the apology. "Don't be. You just caught me off-guard." Even as she said it, her pulse completely slowed back to normal, and the rest of her calmed as well.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

Falling quiet, the two simply remained there for a time—Kim upon the steps, Bucky standing before her—and Kim realized how much she'd been worrying about him in his short-term absence. Reaching out to him with one hand, she wasn't entirely sure how he would respond, nor did she really know what she hoped to achieve. It took a moment, but to her pleasant surprise, she felt the warmth of his right hand surround hers, and she discreetly released a breath of relief. It was the first time they'd ever held hands, and there was just something right about it. His palm was rough and calloused against her comparably smoother skin, but there was nothing unnerving about that. Soldier's hands, she thought. She recalled Steve's hands feeling very similar to his.

"You okay?" She finally asked.

Pain returned to his unfocused eyes, accompanied by that all-too-familiar sorrow that had been evident in his face since he first came to see her.

Her heart went out to him. "You don't have to say anything," she reassured. "It's a lot to take in, and I wouldn't want to talk about it, either." She tried to think of something else to say, but all she could come up with was, "I'm just glad you came back." She squeezed his hand gently.

That seemed to pull him back from his tumultuous thoughts, his eyes fixed on her once more. He wasn't just looking at her, though; it became clear to her that he was thoroughly searching her. She could feel the intensity of those grey-blue orbs analyzing every subtle nuance of her features. His lips parted as he continued to stare, though he said nothing. She felt a frown marking her eyebrows, wondering what was he possibly searching for.

"Rebecca," he suddenly whispered.

That caught her attention. Had her eyes triggered another memory? Was that why he'd been searching her face so intently? "Yeah?"

He looked so confused, but went on. "S-she doesn't like to be called Becky."

Kim's eyes widened while her stomach did an automatic flip. Then she gave a small, sad smile, shaking her head to confirm his statement. "Hates it. She thinks it sounds too much like Bucky, and says Rebecca sounds a lot more feminine." She cast her eyes downward. "She said you would tease her about that, and said you would sometimes call her your 'little brother' to get a rise out of her." She sighed. "Grandpa used to call her that, too. It was like his playful term of endearment for her."

He said nothing, but after a moment, she sensed the gradual tightening of his hand around hers. It was subtle pressure, but she could feel it. Amazing how comforting that mere gesture was for her. Looking up, she watched as a grave expression came across his handsome, unshaven face.

"She's not doing well," he said solemnly. Though it was said as a statement, his eyes seemed to be questioning Kim.

Never breaking from his gaze, she shook her head "no."

"Tell me."

There was no point in hiding the truth from him. "Cancer; stage four. She's dying."

He bowed his head, eyes squeezing shut as he took in this news.

"She also had a stroke last week," Kim continued, "and half of her body is paralyzed. We know she doesn't have much longer, but she's hanging in there as best as she can. She's so damn strong," she ended in a whisper.

Despite his averted gaze, she could tell he was listening. This was evident when his hand squeezed hers even tighter, but not enough to hurt her. "She doesn't know I'm here?"

"No."

"Would she ever suspect?"

She shook her head. "With the way she is now, I don't think she'd ever know that you were here."

A pause. When he looked at her again, she almost thought she saw tears pooling at the bottoms of his eyes. "Can…Can I see her?"

It was the last request she expected him to make, especially considering his reaction the night before. He wants to see Grandma…

No. Not just my grandmother, she realized. He wants to see his sister. The little sister he'd been torn away from, the one who believed he'd died back in 1944. Was that really something he could handle right now?

Her throat went dry. "A-are you sure?"

"I…"

She waited. Judging by the look in his eyes, it was hard to say if he really was sure, and that hit her harder than she anticipated. She wished she there was something she could do to alleviate the suffering caused by his chaotic thoughts.

He sighed heavily. "I need to see her," his quiet voice sounded strained. "Please."

There was no further discussion on the matter. Crossing her arms, Kim stood in the doorway of her grandmother's dimly lit bedroom, staring at Bucky's back while his gaze remained locked upon the elderly woman sleeping peacefully beneath the white comforter. For the longest time, he didn't move. Just stood as still and silent as a statue. She'd assured him that Rebecca wouldn't hear anything, but she didn't fault him for feeling extremely apprehensive. After all, this was the first time he was seeing his sister in over seventy years. A sister whose face had resurfaced in his fragmented memory, despite all of HYDRA's attempts at brainwashing.

Looking at her now, though, she doubted that her aged face resembled the sister Bucky might have once known.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Kim saw his broad shoulders rise as he drew in a breath, and the way they shook when he released it. Very hesitantly, he began to take steps toward Rebecca's bed. It was incredible that those big combat boots of his made no sound as he crossed the hardwood floor.

Kim watched. She watched as he almost silently walked with his back to her, and she bit down uncertainly on her lip as he came to a halt at Rebecca's bedside. Looming over her, he said nothing as he continued to stare. Bucky Barnes and Rebecca Proctor. Reunited at last.

Out of respect, she remained as equally quiet as her uncle, allowing this time to be solely between her elder relatives.

For a long time, Bucky maintained his silent vigil, the only movement visible in the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders from behind. For at least ten minutes, that was how he remained. Kim was touched by his dedicated stance, and felt warmth spread throughout her chest as she continued to observe him. God, what she would give to know what was going on inside his head right now…

Then another kind of movement caught her eye: Bucky, ever-so-slowly bringing his right hand to his forehead, and giving a perfect salute to his dying sister.

Kim stifled the sob that threatened to escape her lips, the warmth beneath her chest intensifying into an exquisite burn. Oh my God…At a funeral for a friend's grandfather—a former marine—she'd seen a group of veterans honor their fallen comrade in a similar manner, all conveying the same quiet message: Thank you, brother. Tears automatically fell from her eyes, but whether they were tears of love or heartbreak, she couldn't be sure. Part of her wondered what message Bucky possibly had for Rebecca in that moment, but she wouldn't dare to encroach on their privacy.

Lowering his hand just as slowly as he'd raised it, Bucky lingered by the side of his long-lost sister for a just little while longer. When it appeared he'd finally sated his curiosity, he turned in Kim's direction, but didn't look her in the eye when he did. Keeping his head bowed, he headed for the doorway with long, quiet strides, and Kim let him pass without a word. She looked after him, wanting to say something reassuring, but didn't. She'd seen the light shining off the thin streaks of tears on his face, and the last thing he needed to do right now was talk.

She sighed, wiping the tears from her own cheeks. Casting one last glance at her grandmother, she felt certain that the woman hadn't been disturbed by their temporary intrusion, and she reached over to flip the switch on the nearby wall, darkening the room completely.

Out in the hall, Bucky's hands gripped the railing overlooking the first floor, his head still bent low as he silently dealt with his emotions. The faint light from below illuminated his silhouette, and from where she stood, Kim had a full-on view of the red star on his bionic shoulder. Even in the dark, that stood out vibrantly. Much like the previous night, there was little thought as she came over to him and instinctively covered that star with one hand, an offer of comfort. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, but he didn't look at her or object to the contact. For this Kim was pleased…and was even more gratified when Bucky's right hand reached up to cover her own. Her pulse quickened initially, then calmed significantly as they simply held on to one another.

She heard a soft sigh from him as his head bowed even further, his hand tightening around hers. Kim's own fingers responded by trying to tighten around his metallic shoulder, and her eyes closed as more tears squeezed free. It didn't take her long to realize what was going on here. His sister was dying; her grandmother was dying; they were both in mourning over the inevitable fate of someone dear to them both. Even if Bucky didn't fully understand how much Rebecca Proctor meant to him, deep down, he knew she meant something to him. There was no doubt in Kim's mind that he was able to empathize with her pain.

Kim wasn't sure how long they remained there; then again, she really wasn't keeping track of time. When she caught herself once again wishing she could hug him, she forced the thought aside and opted to break the quiet. "Look," she started, almost choking on the mere word. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I don't think it's a good night for either of us to do any talking, so why don't we just…" She fished for something beneficial to offer, but all she managed to come up with was, "Why don't—why don't we just watch a movie?"

He drew up at her suggestion, brow furrowing, then smoothing, then furrowing again as he contemplated her suggestion. Then—"Okay."

She was mildly surprised. "Yeah?"

He angled his head towards her. "Yes."

Okay, then. Next step was to decide on what they could both watch. She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Ever seen any of the Star Wars movies?"

He shook his head once. "No."

Steve had compiled an extensive list of things he needed to experience in order to catch up on the twenty-first century. One of those items was to watch all the Star Wars movies, based on the overwhelming recommendations he'd received from various friends and colleagues. Being the avid fan that she was of those films, Kim had insisted that she would be the one introduce him to them at some point. With his busy schedule, though, he hadn't had a chance to sit down and watch them with her yet.

It looked as though Bucky was going to beat him to the punch on this one.

She decided it was best to start him from the true beginning, and set about inserting Episode IV into the living room DVD player. Perhaps delving into the realm of sci-fantasy would take his mind off of harsher things, even if only temporarily. With his bionic arm and combative clothes, Bucky appeared somewhat out of place on Rebecca's floral sofa, but Kim hardly found that necessary to mention aloud. Taking her place in her green chair, she curled her legs beneath her, eyes focused on the television as she navigated the movie's menu screen.

"Your hair looks different," Bucky mentioned all of a sudden.

She looked at him. "Hmm? Oh," she touched one of the loose tresses framing her face. "Yeah. I usually straighten it, but it curls up if I just let it air-dry."

"Natural curls?"

"Mm-hmm."

He gave a short nod. "It looks nice."

She was quiet for a moment, but then gave him a soft smile. "Thanks."

Amazingly, his posture seemed to relax before her eyes, and he almost looked normal just sitting there in her living room. Almost. Their gazes remained locked for several more seconds, and then Kim hit the play button to start the movie. For the most part, the tone of the evening had been quite somber, but she released a peaceful sigh as a familiar phrase appeared on-screen: "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…"