A/N: This chapter is now posted in its entirety. Thank you for your continued patience.

Special thanks to Skylar Winchester, ML143, ObsidianPhantom, angeleync, and UnraveledGhoul for your kind reviews and messages. :)

"Can you say hi to Grandpa? Hmm? Can you wave at him?"

Kim sat silently at the dining room table, her tired eyes watching the video playing on her laptop for the umpteenth time. A few years ago, she'd uploaded all of her grandfather's old home movies onto her hard drive, and every now and then, she felt the need to pull one up to reconnect with the family she'd lost, even if it only their digital likenesses she was seeing.

"Wave to Grandpa, Kimmy Jean," the image of a younger Rebecca Proctor coaxed with a smile, holding a chubby, two-year-old version of Kim in her arms as she made her small hand wave at the camera. "Say hi. Say hi…"

Tears were welling in her eyes again, but she managed to hold them back. For now, anyway. Kim had been far too drained both mentally and emotionally to do anything but stay home the next day, which was why there'd been no argument from her when Stark insisted she take some time off from therapy. He was adamant that he would not make her work with a broken heart, saying he could take the time to further analyze the readouts he'd gathered from Monday.

Her forefinger moved across the mousepad, clicking to rewind the video yet again. This one took place during a Fourth of July celebration at her grandparents' house in 1998, and seeing her grandmother's vibrant, smiling face on-screen made Kim's heart clench painfully. She missed seeing her like that. Missed it so much. Taking the recording back to one point in particular, she replayed the segment she'd been watching over and over again for the past hour.

"John? John, come in here; you need to hear this." Rebecca smiled brightly as she hoisted Kim in her arms.

The camera, manned by her unseen grandfather, moved through the living room and into the hallway, bypassing some relatives and friends along the way. "What is it, Becky?"

She narrowed her eyes when he called her that, but still smiled. "Listen to this. Kimmy," she said gently, pointing to the picture of Bucky on the wall, "who's that, Kimmy?" Kim's infant-form was sucking on two fingers, but staring very intently at the picture she was indicating. "Who's that, huh?"

Her younger-self was still staring with wide green eyes.

"Don't be shy, sweetie. Who is that, huh? Who is that?"

It took a great deal of coaxing, but then she pulled her fingers from her mouth as she started to mouth, "Bu…Bu…"

Rebecca was positively beaming with pride. "That's it; you can say it. Who is that, Kimmy?"

"Bu…Bu…Bu-bby," she finally managed to get out, then exclaimed, "Bu-bby!"

Behind the camera, her grandfather chuckled. "Is she saying…?"

"'Bucky,'" Rebecca mouthed as she nodded, adoring her attempt to pronounce his name, despite her inability to form certain consonants. "That's right: Uncle Bucky!"

"You finally got her saying it," she could practically hear the smile in her grandfather's voice.

"We've been practicing his name for a while now, haven't we, my smart girl? Haven't we?" She nuzzled her granddaughter sweetly.

The little girl gave a squealing laugh. "Bu-bby!"

"That's right: Bucky," Rebecca kept saying. "Bu-cky."

"Bu-bby," she repeated, reaching a hand out to the photo of the uniformed man. "Bu-bby. Bu-bby…"

Closing her eyes, she let her forehead fall into her left hand. Grandma…Less than twenty-four hours ago, Kim had been sharing something with her that had seemed so extraordinarily important at the time, but now…

Now none of it mattered. It just didn't.

If it's important to you, then why wouldn't it be important to me?

She heaved a great sigh, knowing that's exactly how her grandmother would have responded, regardless of her illness. The fact that Rebecca was going to die had been no great secret, and Kim had done everything she possibly could to prepare herself for the inevitable. She knew it was going to be difficult to let go when that time came, knew it would be best for her grandmother not to suffer, told herself every damn day that she had to be strong, both of them…but something about the events of last night had completely shattered her. Left her feeling numb. Another step closer to losing the most important person in her life…and to her devastation, she realized she really wasn't at all ready to let her go.

Christ, what was going to happen once she really was gone? She thought, the fingers of her right hand curling upon the table—

—which caused her to look down when she felt her pinkie dip into the slight indentation underneath the maroon cloth. She stared. After Bucky's bionic hand had left that dent in the table, she'd made sure to cover it in order to avoid any questions from Jen, and so far, she hadn't noticed the damage.

But Kim would never be able to ignore it, just like she couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky's absence was truly causing her pain. She sniffed, absently tracing a finger around the edge of the dent through the cloth. Aside from the dagger, this was the only trace left of him in the house. There'd been no sign of him since yesterday morning—none at all—and that only added to the despair she felt over her grandmother.

Her eyes flicked back up to the laptop screen, jaw clenching as the child in the video continued to reach for Bucky's photograph. Over the years, she used to find it funny, shrugging off the idea that her baby-self actually recognized who this man was, and chalked it up to her simply playing a repetition game with her grandmother. But the way that child's eyes were so focused as she reached out to him...

"Can you say hi to Grandpa? Hmm? Can you wave at him? Wave to Grandpa, Kimmy Jean. Say hi. Say hi…"

Closing her eyes, she rubbed at her forehead. It wasn't just the footage of Rebecca that was affecting her so strongly; it was also the implied connection she had to her long-lost uncle at such an early age.

What if he never came back? What if she really was—

The incessant creaking of the old stairs jarred her out of thought, and she sighed to herself quietly as she paused the video, listening as the footsteps reached the first floor and drew nearer.

"I talked to Laura," Jen announced, appearing from the corner of Kim's eye. "The antibiotics have finally gotten her over the worst of her strep, so she'll be arriving sometime tomorrow. She's got a few things to take care of at home, but she'll be on her way after that."

No surprise there. Aunt Laura owned and managed two hair salons over in Virginia, and she preferred to have all her bases covered as far as delegating shifts and responsibilities before taking off for a few days. Lifting her head, Kim couldn't summon a smile, but gave her a grateful look. Leave it to Jen to be gracious enough to reach out to Laura Proctor with news regarding Rebecca's latest stroke. "Thanks." It was all she could think of to say, her voice sounding so strained to her own ears.

"Anytime," she shouldered her purse, then paused. "Listen, Rebecca's not going to be with us much longer, Kim, and I really hope you and your aunt will find some common ground to stand on. Not just for your grandmother's sake, but for yours, too. You're family; it'd be good for you to put aside your issues and start getting along."

Kim listened, releasing a slow, patient breath, recalling some similar statements from her counseling sessions with Dr. Lakewood. Always easier said than done with her, she thought. "I know," she said softly, then became quiet again.

Jen gave her a sympathetic look, coming over to place a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay. It won't be easy, but eventually, everything will be okay. You'll see."

Kim almost couldn't feel where her hand laid, the numbness preventing her from registering the sensation. It'll be okay…but will it really? She wondered.

"As much as I'd like to stay," Jen said, "I have to get going, hon."

Kim nodded. It was only a quarter past five, but the incident from last night had drastically changed Jen's schedule with them. It was only a matter of time now for Rebecca Proctor, and there was little else Hospice could do to improve her quality of life. That meant Jen would only be returning to help collect Rebecca's body after she passed.

"Rebecca's holding steady for now, but don't forget to give her a couple of those swabs every two hours to keep her hydrated."

Kim nodded.

"If you need me for anything, though, you give me a call, okay?"

Though the gratitude could not overcome her sorrow, she gave a small smile, covering Jen's hand with her own. "For everything you've done, thank you."

Jen gaze her shoulder a squeeze. "You let yourself relax tonight, okay? You need your rest, too."

As she nodded, her iPhone buzzed on the table next to her, and she looked to see Private Number on the ID. Immediately, the ache in her heart intensified. "I need to take this," she said, picking up the phone.

"Sure thing," she removed her hand. "Take care, Kim."

As Jen made her way to the front door, Kim answered Steve's call. "Hi," she winced at how horribly her voice cracked.

"Hey, Kim. I needed to see how you were doing."

Her mouth fell open to speak, but then her eyes squeezed shut as a few more tears sprang free. She'd spent so long crying to him on the phone last night, and all the while, he'd just listened to her quietly as she sobbed and sputtered her incoherent woes to him. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sniffed quite audibly and sighed.

"Hey. I'm here, Kim. It's okay," he soothed, and it was almost as though he really was there with her. "It's okay; I'm here."

She sniffed again, rubbing at her eyes. "Sorry," her voice wavered a bit.

"Don't be. I can't imagine what it must be like seeing this through your eyes."

Part of her was surprised to hear him say this. Steve was a soldier; he'd been through war with the Commandos, and battles with the Avengers. He'd witnessed more instances of death and the ugly side of humanity than she ever wanted to see in her own lifetime…and yet, here he was, sounding just as equally affected by the grief overtaking her heart. The heart of his best friend's great-niece.

"How is she, Kim?" He asked.

She rested her head in her hand again. "Not so good," her voice still cracked, and she cleared her throat.

"Can you tell me?"

She shook her head briefly. "She's just…It's like there's nothing there in her eyes anymore," a few more tears slipped down her cheeks. "She's just lying there like a vegetable, and I can't—I can't tell if her mind is working anymore, or if she's laying there feeling like she's trapped in that body, or…" She choked back a sob, biting down hard on her lip in hopes of distracting herself with the sharp stinging pain.

"I'm sorry, Kim," Steve said gently; sincerely. "I'm so sorry."

Giving herself a moment to calm down, she didn't bother to disguise the tremor in her voice when she told him, "I really wish you were here, Steve."

"So do I. I mean it."

I know, her mind whispered, remembering the last time she'd hugged him. It never ceased to amaze her how strong his arms were, and she never tired of the way he'd pick her up until her feet dangled several inches off the ground. What she would give to have him hug her like that now.

"Where's Laura? Did she make it out there yet?"

"Tomorrow," she brought her hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Jen called her for me; she's got a few things to take care of back home, but she'll be out here soon."

She could almost sense him nodding on the other end. "Good. She needs to be there with her mother."

"Yeah," Kim said quietly.

"But hey, if things start to get heavy between you two, I don't want you to hesitate to call me, okay? The last thing I want to hear about is her sending you down another shame spiral at a time like this. Even if I'm not there with you, I'll find a way to protect you, Kim."

She felt her chest burn at his words, not bothering to wipe away to next two tears that fell. "I miss you so much, Steve."

"Miss you, too, kiddo, but I'm here for you, in one way or another."

"I just…" The words evaded her. "When Grandma's gone, I'm just…I hate to…I don't want her to leave me alone, and I don't know what—"

"You're not going to be alone," he said adamantly. "Regardless of what happens, you will always have me. No matter how much craziness I've got going on in my life, there's no way I'll ever let you feel like you're alone."

She closed her eyes, drawing in a long breath and sighing deeply. "At least saving the world's a good kind of crazy."

She heard the faintest huff of a laugh from him. "Saving the world means getting to protect you, too, Kim, and believe it or not, that gives me even greater incentive to stay on the Avengers team."

The slightest blush rose to her cheeks, though she was grateful for the momentary distraction. "I'm glad; that team wouldn't nearly be as strong without—"

Kim fell dead silent when her ears detected the scraping sound of the sliding door as it opened, and the same noise as it closed. She held her breath, listening as steady footsteps moved through the kitchen.

"Kim?" Steve's voice sounded so far way away all of a sudden. "Kim, you there?"

She exhaled shakily, turning her head as Bucky emerged from the kitchen, his large frame nearly blocking the entire doorway. She stared. Even beneath the baseball cap and denim jacket he donned—despite how hot it was outside—she still saw the same man who'd been in her house only yesterday morning. Still saw the fathomless shame, guilt, and sorrow in his gaze when he locked those grey-blue eyes with hers.

She stared. He stared. It was all they seemed capable of, and it didn't even register when her iPhone started to slip from her hand.

"Kim?" Steve persisted. "Hellooo, Kim? Are you alright?"

The insistence in his voice caused her to blink a few times as she tightened her grip on the phone again. "Yeah," she practically wheezed, but then set her jaw. "Um…Steve? Can I call you back?"

A pause. "Yeah, sure. Take as much time as you need, Kim."

She didn't even bother saying goodbye as she ended the call, slowly setting the phone on the table as her eyes remained locked with Bucky's. Seeing him now was like seeing him at the Smithsonian all over again, when she'd been completely ignorant of who he really was. The shadow of his baseball cap hardly disguised the multitude of emotions playing across his face, and it pierced her heart to see it. No doubt they were the very same emotions churning within her own heart, and she had to tear her gaze away before she lost complete control of herself.

Breathe, she told herself, fighting hard to maintain her calm. With all the worrying she'd done for him over the past two days—especially in regards to his mental state—it wasn't so much a warm sense of relief flooding her heart, but one of burning, undeniable…anger. An emotion she'd dealt with numerous times in the past, and here she was being forced to relive it all over again.

Breathe, her mind kept repeating. Breathe…

"Thought you were gone for good," she finally said, closing her laptop.

"No," he exhaled the word so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

Her jaw clenched, but she still didn't look at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why'd you come back?"

He seemed to hesitate. Then, "I can't leave you."

Her fingers dug into her bicep. "Sure as hell proved otherwise when you ran off."

A pause. "Kim, I—"

"You left, Bucky," she cut him off abruptly, then dropped her voice to a whisper, "you left."

A longer pause this time. Then, "Leaving you," there was a slight stammer in his words, "is not an option."

She closed her eyes, feeling two tears slip down her cheeks as she slowly shook her head. "But you did."

"No, I—" He seemed to choke on his next word, prompting her to finally look at him. He appeared to be struggling with what to say. "I…I almost hurt you—"

"You didn't. I was fine, Bucky; you could see that I was fine."

Another pause. "But I—"

"Threatened me with a knife. Yeah, I know; I was there, and yes, it was scary as hell," she cut in, ignoring the way her voice started to waver, "but you stopped when you realized it was me. You saw me and couldn't bring yourself to do it, could you?"

Silence.

"Could you?" She pressed, a little firmer this time.

His intense eyes never left hers as he simply stared, an indiscernible emotion now crossing his face. "I've killed before, Kim, and knowing what I almost did to yo—"

"I know what you did, Bucky!" She practically screamed, slamming her fists down on the table as a scorching pain surged through her heart. For several seconds, she remained frozen in place, completely tense from her sudden outburst…but then felt herself begin to shake when she gave in to the quiet sobs that would no longer be denied.

When she did speak again, her voice was much softer, though broken by her sobs. "I know. I've done more than enough research to know what you're capable of." She shook her head, raising her eyes to his once again. "But Jesus, Bucky, that was in your past! Can't you give yourself a damn break?" Her cheeks were damp with dripping tears, but she could only keep her gaze locked with his while her shoulders heaved, and she fought to bring her breathing back to normal. "With everything I know," she nearly whispered, "do you see me running away from you?"

She saw something pass through his eyes then. A sadness; or guilt. Or some dawning realization. Whatever it was, he was looking at her raptly. "Something's happened," he said.

Kim bit down on her lip again, closing her eyes and covering her face with one hand.

"Tell me."

Leave it to him to realize there was something more to her outburst than just anger towards him. Taking a breath, she told him, "Grandma had another stroke last night." She looked at him, and her chest constricted at the stricken look that overcame his features. "Your sister came one step closer to dying, and you weren't even here."

His lips parted, and she could detect his shaky breaths. "Rebecca—"

"You were gone," she cut him off again. "You left me all alone after I—" She stopped herself there, clamping her mouth shut.

His brow furrowed uncertainly. "After you what?"

That she couldn't answer. Not now. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the longer they looked at one another, the more she could tell that his own eyes were shimmering. "Enough people have already left me behind, or are going to leave me very soon." She slowly shook her head, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I didn't want you to leave me, too."

The way his eyes widened…and the tear that slipped down his own cheek…and the instant he took a step toward her, something inside Kim snapped, and she leaped up from her chair, rushing to round the farthest side of the table from him. She had to get away, had to leave before she completely broke down in front of him.

Get away, she told herself. Get away…

She didn't even see him move. As she made a beeline for the living room, his arm shot out and caught her, and Kim gasped sharply as he pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping firmly around her to hold her in place. She stood there, frozen in shock, her mind completely reeling as Bucky continued to hold her to him. Holding her? He was…was he actually…hugging her?

But then a great panic began to well within her. No, her mind shouted. No! He can't do this; he's not ready to hug me! He can't! She struggled against his hold, but his arms were solid. Unyielding. No, Bucky! You can't! This is too much for you! Her hands pushed at his chest, and she could feel the way they were shaking against him; could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. Her fingers curled into claws, digging into the fabric of his jacket as her eyes squeezed shut. You can't…you can't…

When she felt his cheek press against the top of her head, her resolve completely crumbled as she buried her face against his shoulder and bawled. The tears; they wouldn't stop. Not this time. She'd cried often over the past several months, but nothing like this. Hard, wrenching, wailing sobs fell unrestrained from her mouth, and Bucky's arms tightened around her in response. She gasped and whimpered when his metal arm squeezed too tightly, and he automatically loosened his grip. Before he could pull away entirely, though, her hands clutched at his jacket and pulled him to her again as she just cried. Cried. Her broken heart needing this…from him. No matter how imperfect the situation was, all she knew was that she needed him.

Her uncle. Her family.

Tears soaked the denim underneath her eyes, but he didn't tell her to calm down, or to stop crying. He just held her, comforting her in the only way he knew how, and she detected the brief moment when he released a shuddering breath of his own. She felt his right hand move, coming to rest carefully, gently against the back of her neck.

"At ease, soldier," he whispered quietly.

Digging her fingers into his jacket again, Kim wept even harder against his shoulder.

It was hard to say how much time had passed while she cried in Bucky's arms, but he'd held onto her the entire time, even following her as she sagged to the floor when the strength in her legs finally gave out. His arms never let go, keeping her against him, his shoulder catching her tears as they fell. The instant he detected her fatigue, however, he'd carried her straight up to her bedroom, laying her gently atop the plush purple comforter. For the next hour or so, she drifted in and out of consciousness while Bucky kept vigil by her bedside, his right hand never letting go of hers. Every time her eyes closed, she'd open them again and see him watching her intently, his presence helping to ease her mind. Occasionally, she'd wake with a jolt, but then he'd squeeze her hand reassuringly, silently reminding her: I'm here.

And he really was. Thank God for that.

When she came to again sometime later, her hand no longer felt the warmth of his, but when she opened her eyes, she relaxed when she saw him on the other side of the room. It was obvious he was taking in his surroundings, studying the details that defined who she was, from the Phantom of the Opera posters on the wall, to her high school diploma and framed photos hanging adjacent to it, to the collection of books she had displayed on the bookshelf.

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, the glowing red numbers displayed 7:23PM. There was still enough light outside to keep her room illuminated, and she watched him silently, letting him take his time to examine her belongings. Selecting one of her books, Bucky examined its cover in his hands. She could see the well-worn binding from where she lay: Catch-22.

Taking a breath, she quietly rasped, "That one's my favorite."

Bucky turned at the sound of her voice, staring at her momentarily. "I remember."

Right. Her bio. "It's a satire on the army," she rubbed at one of her eyes. "Steve didn't care for it, but maybe you'd like it."

A pause. Then, "Why didn't he like it?"

"Thought it was disrespectful to the army," she said through a yawn. "Doesn't like it when he thinks someone's making fun of it." She sighed. "He can be so serious sometimes."

"But it appeals to you?"

"Makes me laugh," she affirmed.

"And you think I'd like it?" He asked, returning to the chair he'd pulled up from her desk.

She gave a half-shrug. "Doesn't hurt to give it a shot. Maybe we'll find out that you and I have similar senses of humor."

He glanced up at her, then back down at the book in his hands. "Maybe."

Kim stared at him a moment, glad that his face wasn't completely obscured by his baseball cap. Not this time, anyway. "Where do you go?" She asked, causing Bucky to look at her questioningly. "When you're not here, I mean. You say 'not far,' but…did you go anywhere else this time?"

For several seconds, he was silent, then he sighed, evident only in the bare rise and fall of his shoulders. "I went back to the museum."

"The Smithsonian?"

"Yes."

Of course. The Captain America exhibit was scheduled to be there until the end of summer. "To find more information about yourself?"

"No. By now, I've memorized any information they had on me there."

Her brow furrowed. "Then why go back?"

"I didn't expect to end up there, but," his right hand took hers once again, "I wanted to go back to the place where I first found you."

It was as though she'd been struck in the chest as he said those words. Propping herself up on her elbow, Kim's gaze never left his. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Because…?"

His eyes held hers. "Because ever since I met you…I've been able to think so much clearer, and for once, I can remember the things that happen to me every day." She saw the barest shake of his head. "I don't want that to go away, so sometimes, I return to that place to remember what it was like to…to hear you speak for the first time. To see your face; your eyes. And Kim, you…" His lower lip quivered, one hand gesturing towards his face as unshed tears made his eyes shimmer. "You…have my chin."

Kim's closed her eyes against the searing warmth that was filling her heart. "So did Dad," she whispered.

"Jim."

Opening her eyes, she nodded, and he released another sigh, uttering something in Russian that she barely heard. Automatically, her hand tightened around his. "You can stay here, you know." He looked at her again, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I mean it: I don't want you to feel like you have to run away. If you want, this can be your home."

She could see his brow twitch as he tilted his head. "You want me to stay?"

"Yes," she sat up a little further. "You, um…you could have the guest room at the end of the hall. It used to be Dad's room, and there's still a bunch of his old clothes in there that you could borrow; some of them might fit you." Maybe if she kept talking, if she kept giving him reasons to stay, he would. Sure, there could be some difficulty with Aunt Laura on the way, but… "You'd be safe here."

He lowered his gaze from hers. "I'm not safe anywhere."

God, the sadness in his voice...Placing her other hand atop their clasped ones, she told him, "I'll find a way to protect you."

He stared at her. "I swore to protect you, Kim."

"Yeah, but what makes you think I won't do the same for you in return?" Something about her words had his eyes widening, and she could tell by the way he looked at her that she'd struck a chord with him. "I've kept the fact that you're here a secret from everyone so far, Bucky, and I'm not about to give you up for anything."

Those grey-blue eyes remained locked with hers, and Kim could have sworn she saw them shimmering in the gentle light. She'd meant it; whatever she could do to protect him in turn, she would do. He needed to know that.

"Speaking of which," she glanced over the edge of her bed, "hand me that bag, would you?" She pointed, and he retrieved her duffle bag from the floor. Rummaging through it, she pulled out the dagger she'd kept hidden in there, holding it out to him. "Thought you might want this back."

He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing. "You kept it with you."

Yes: she'd held onto the very weapon he'd threatened her with. "I didn't want Jen to find it," she said, bringing it back to turn it over carefully in her palms.

"Careful," he said tersely, her eyes lifting to his. "It's very sharp."

"I know: I nicked myself a little earlier," she showed him her bandaged forefinger, but before he could say anything, she quickly continued. "What kind of knife is this, anyway? What style?"

"Karambit."

"Hmm," she murmured at the unfamiliar term, sighing as she offered it to him again.

But instead of taking it, he simply covered her hand with his. "You keep it."

Me? She blinked. He wanted her to keep it? "Why?"

"For protection. In case you need it."

Her eyes shifted to their joined hands, then back up to his face. "I don't think that's—"

"Please," he said, his tone serious, his fingers tightening their hold as they pressing the textured handle to her palm. "I'd feel better knowing you have it with you. Just in case."

He was imploring her now, and she didn't have the heart to refuse such a request. "But…I don't know how to even use a knife like this."

"I'll teach you."

She gaped at him, completely taken aback by his offer. "You will?"

"Yes."

For a long while, she mulled that over silently, staring at their joined hands as he kept the blade in her grasp, insisting she keep it. So arming me will give him peace of mind, she thought. She didn't have to question why he was so adamant about this. HYDRA was out there in many forms, and he didn't want to take any chances on her safety. Was this the smartest idea in the world? Hard to say, but if she was going to wield this knife, she'd have to be able to do more than just scratch them with it. "You trust me with this."

"Yes."

She sighed softly, a small part of her still unconvinced. "It might take me a while to learn."

"I don't mind, Kim; I can teach you."

It was becoming more and more natural to hear him say her name, and even though there were still a multitude of emotions warring within her heart, she couldn't deny how much calmer she felt now that he was here. And if he was willing to make that kind of commitment to her… "Okay," she finally said, and he let her hand slide from his fingers. "You got the holster for it?"

Reaching beneath his jacket, he sought the holster on his utility belt, which he handed to her. "Thanks," Kim sheathed the blade and opened the drawer of her nightstand to stash it for the time being. As she did, Bucky's metal hand entered her line of vision, reaching for the framed photo on display next to her alarm clock. She watched him quietly. It was her favorite picture of her and Steve, and the change in his eyes was evident as he took in the image, no doubt focusing on the brightness of their smiling faces.

"When was this taken?" He asked.

"Last summer," she drew her knees up to her chest. "I was only joking when I told him to give me a piggyback ride, but…" She trailed off with a slight shrug, knowing he'd be able to fill-in-the-blank.

The longer he stared at the photo, though, the more his brow furrowed. "Steve…" He whispered.

Kim waited for him to go on.

A shuddering breath passed his lips. Then, "H-his mother's name…was S-Sarah."

She drew in a slow breath, keeping her excitement carefully restrained. "Yeah. She died a long time ago—"

"From tuberculosis."

She nodded, but he was still looking down at the picture, his metal thumb stroking over the edge of the silver frame. "We used to—we'd put…the couch cushions on the…on the floor whenever he stayed over."

For the first time since he'd come back to her, she smiled sadly at the memory he'd described. His childhood. He was getting glimpses from that long ago. "Yeah?" She encouraged him. "What else?"

His brow was furrowing again, his fingers grasping the frame as he tried desperately to hold onto whatever his mind had revealed to him—

"Bucky?"

He blinked rapidly, and she didn't miss the shimmer of tears in his eyes when he looked up at her again. "Rebecca," he rasped.

She winced at the painful clenching of her heart, that mere word bringing her crashing back to the harshness of reality. Back to the fact that her grandmother was in the adjacent room, inching ever closer to—

"Kim."

Looking up at him, she willed herself not to cry. Not now.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He paused. "Last night. What did you see?"

She, too, was quiet for a time, trying to think of how to even begin elaborating on what had taken place the previous night. Running a hand over her face, she finally whispered, "I thought she was going to die right then." Her lip quivered, the truth behind the words causing her chest to sting all over again.

"But she didn't."

She shook her head, shrugged. "She just…hung on somehow." She couldn't explain how Rebecca had once again managed to maintain her grasp on life, or why, for that matter. God, Grandma, what are you clinging to? But at the same time, she hated herself for the thought. She wanted nothing more than to keep her grandmother here with her. For as long as she possibly could. To hell with the pain it caused her heart; nothing compared to what Rebecca had had to endure for the past several months…

"Rebecca's strong," Bucky said, and Kim looked at him, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. "She always was."

Another memory about his sister. As much as it pleased her to hear him expounding more on his forgotten past, she couldn't help but be saddened at the same time. "Was she?"

"In her own way…" His brow furrowed, but he squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a firm shake. "I know she was."

It's okay, Kim silently assured, though didn't know if she was trying to convey that to him, or herself.

But then he was looking at her again, and Kim was taken aback at the subtle determination she suddenly saw behind those grey-blue orbs. "Can I see her, Kim?"

Kim swallowed hard, bringing a hand to cover her trembling lips. It was bad enough having the first stroke render her grandmother incapable of speech, but this…

Bucky stood beside her as they both looked upon Rebecca Proctor's frail form. As cried out as she ought to be by now, Kim's eyes blurred with tears yet again as she stared at the elder woman's face. God, she hated seeing her like this. Hated how much paler she appeared since last night; hated the way her eyes had rolled back into her head so that all she could see were the whites; hated the fact that her mouth was involuntarily wrenched open, but she was still unable to utter a single word. It was like looking at a corpse, and yet there was still a spark of life left inside, evident in the intermittent heaving of her chest each time she drew in a harsh breath.

That's all she could do now. Lay there and breathe in, breathe out. No other sound or movement. No indication that she was aware of anything anymore.

Burning tears fell down Kim's cheeks, her vision momentarily clearing before the next wave hit her. Christ, Grandma…

Closing her eyes, she turned away from the sight and proceeded to bury her face against Bucky's shoulder, and he automatically wrapped his right arm around her in a one-armed embrace. Kim didn't over-think it; she just let it happen. Released her sorrows into the denim yet again, and there was no objection from Bucky whatsoever. Just a surprisingly warm comfort as his hand stroked over her hair, then settled at the base of her neck, holding her to him quietly. A few sobs tried to escape her throat, but the hand covering her lips prevented them from becoming anything more than a soft, gasping breath, and that combined with Rebecca's occasional intake of breath were the only sounds interrupting the quiet of the room.

Neither of them spoke. This wasn't the time for it.

Breathe, her mind whispered, though it was hard to say if she was telling that to herself or her grandmother.

At ease, Bucky's words echoed within her thoughts, making her lungs hitch slightly. His voice had been so soothing when he uttered that phrase, regardless of how high-strung her emotions were at the time. He'd been so damn patient with her, his solid hold conveying so much more than she dared to believe was possible from the man.

At ease, she repeated to herself, and with each passing second, her breathing gradually returned to normal. Strange how calm his presence made her…and yet, it wasn't strange at all. Not to her.

She had to wonder, though, how much it affected him to see his sister like this. He hadn't said a single word since they entered her room, but the longer he held her, the more apparent the bare tremble in his chest became.

"Can she hear us?" He asked at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," she pulled back from him, turning to glance at Rebecca with sad eyes. With a sigh, she said, "I don't know what she's aware of anymore."

Another long pause lingered between them while they watched Rebecca breathe, an oddly hypnotic sound in the thick quiet of the room.

"Kim."

She glanced up at Bucky, but his eyes were riveted on Rebecca. "I need a moment alone with her."

She blinked, not entirely sure how to respond to that, opening her mouth to say…hell, she didn't even know what to say to that. Alone? Would that be a wise thing to do at this point?

But then he locked steady eyes with her, his tone insistent when he said, "Please."

The amber glow of the setting sun was gradually darkening through the windows of the living room. Kim set her pen down and flexed the fingers of her right hand, popping a few knuckles in the process. Glancing up at the television screen, she watched as the Imperial troops stormed the Rebel base on Hoth, every line of the movie's dialogue memorized to the very second. The Empire Strikes Back. Her grandmother would have rolled her eyes if she'd known.

Kim sighed. It had been at least a half hour since she'd left Bucky alone with Rebecca, and so much of her wondered what might possibly be occurring upstairs between them. Was he actually talking to her? Sitting in silence? What were his intentions once Kim was no longer in their presence?

However, Kim wasn't about to encroach on their privacy, not after what she'd witnessed just before exiting the room: Bucky sitting in the chair beside his sister's bed, his attention solely on her as he removed his baseball cap. Yet another gesture of respect for Rebecca Proctor, and one that convinced Kim that no harm would come to her grandmother if Bucky was with her.

On that, she could trust him; she knew this without a second thought.

Her ears perked up when she finally heard footsteps descending the creaky stairs, and Kim set her journal on the arm of her green chair as Bucky entered the living room, his cap still clutched in his metal hand. Pausing in the doorway, he locked eyes with her, giving her a full-on view of just how grave his face was.

It didn't surprise her in the slightest. He looked exactly the way she felt inside. "Hey," she said softly.

He stared at her, then she saw his shoulders sag as he released a sigh. "Hey."

She pursed her lips together. Now was obviously not the time for discussion, and she picked up the remote from the coffee table. "Movie?" She inquired, motioning toward the television. "I can re-start it."

Glancing at the screen, his brows twitched together. "What is it?"

"Empire Strikes Back; next chapter in the Star Wars saga."

He looked at her again. "There's more?"

It was amazing how those two words managed to break through the sorrow clouding her heart, and caused the corner of her mouth to twitch upward in the faintest of smiles. Nodding, she said, "Oh yeah."

He looked at the television again, then back at her, a new curiosity causing his eyes to shine. "Yes."

This time, she felt her smile touch both sides of her mouth. "Have a seat, then," she hit a few buttons on the remote to bring up the menu while Bucky sat on the couch. In the back of her mind, Kim was relieved that he'd chosen to sit on the side closest to her chair.

During the movie, Bucky's elbows rested on his knees, raptly watching the screen. Meanwhile, Kim still wrote in her research journal, recording—in as much detail as possible—all the memories that Bucky had conveyed to her thus far.