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"When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him"

Madeline Miller

Chapter Nine - Grief

The past few months for Clara had been boring in comparison to her work as an army nurse, but she still felt more productive then she would have at home. She had fallen into a routine, spending her time as working as a sort-of secretary to Colonel Phillips. The work was easy enough, Peggy and her became fast friends, and she still got to see Bucky. It was a satisfying enough routine.

A routine that was disrupted by a knock at her bedroom door.

"Steve" she said after opening the door, throwing her arms around his neck. The fact that he didn't return the hug was her first clue, and the look on his face was the confirmation. Something had happened.

"What's wrong? What happened?" She asked, "Where's Bucky?"

"Clara, I'm sorry" said Steve

"No, no. Where is he?" She yelled, "Where is he?"

"He's gone, Clara, he's gone" said Steve, grabbing onto her flailing arms, "He's gone"

"No, he's not, he can't be!" She pounded her fists onto his chest, "He can't be"

"I'm sorry" he said, wrapping his arms around her, "I'm so sorry"

It was a good thing that Steve held Clara in his grip, because her body had become numb, no longer able to hold herself up. Her hands grasped at Steve's shirt, which had already began to dampen from her profuse tears.

It was awhile before he left, a period consisting of both of their grief outpouring, sharing each other's pain. But it didn't lessen the grief, the hurt was still ever present. And even afterwards, as Clara lay in her bed, she had never felt so alone.

She didn't know how long it had been since she'd heard the news. She hadn't eaten unless forced to, slept unless her body gave out from exhaustion. She could do nothing. Everytime she closed her eyes, all she could see was him. Her dreams were plagued by her imaginings of his death. She didn't need to see it for it to haunt her. Knowing was enough. But she had to know, the not knowing would've been a far greater burden.

But he had left her. She had given up everything for him. He was her whole world. And now he was dead. He had gone and gotten himself killed. And left her alone.

These thoughts were sickening to her. A poison infecting her mind. Warping it. She shouldn't be thinking these things. Bucky was her husband. She loved him with her entire being. But he was gone, leaving a gaping hole where he had once stood, her life ripped apart in a single moment.

The happier memories were no longer of use. Like flowers that had died, constricting her mind, weeds weaving through her memory to destroy every happy ocession of her life, leaving her alone with only her darkest thoughts.

The room was dark, the curtains pulled over the windows, blocking any possible light. She couldn't tell if it was night or day. Time was irrelevant. Everything was irrelevant. There was nothing left for her. There was nothing left of her. The darkness of the room had seeped into her pores, traveling through her bloodstream and into her heart, into her very soul. Darkness had infiltrated her very being, and she had no idea where to find the light to fight it.

She clutched the bottle closer to her chest. Usually, alcohol was not a vice she enjoyed much of. But for the occasion, Clara thought drowning her sorrows to be an effective coping mechanism. The alcohol was clouding her brain, reality and her memories morphing into one, the lines becoming blurred in such a way that she no longer knew what was real and what were her imaginations.

Her vision was blurry, but she could've sworn she saw him. He was there, standing in front of her.

"James, Bucky, is that you?" She whispered

"Yeah, it's me, I'm here" he replied, "I'm here, it's okay"

"Do...do you remember how I used to only call you James?" She said, "And you said, the first time I called you Bucky, was when you knew I loved you. Even though, it was only our second date"

"When I took you to Central Park" he said, "You looked beautiful in that green dress"

"That was a nice day" she mumbled, "Can we go back to that day? I liked that day, it was a good day, a happy day"

"You know we can't"

"We can, we can" she said, slumping down against the bed, "We will, Bucky..."

But he was gone. The figament of her imagination had returned to her mind. And she was alone.

The snow fell outside, softly, like petals of a flower, graceful in their descent. She wished she could be like them. But her fall was heavy, ending with a thud, all tangled limbs and broken bones. The windowsill was cold on her already numb fingers, but the cold was the same as her excruciatingly hot showers. A distraction, and not an effective one by a longshot.

She was reminded of the times growing up that she and her siblings would run about in the snow. Having snowball fights, making snow angels, building forts. Eventually, their mother would tell them to come inside, afraid they would catch a cold. She remembered the time Bucky and her had run through the snow to get to her apartment, ending up spending more time outside due to their reluctance to part from one another. Such happy times, so long ago.

The sound of the door opening wasn't enough to draw her attention away from the window, only the sound of Steve calling out her name was enough to draw her out of herself.

"It's cold in here" he said

"I like it, make's hot showers more enjoyable" she said, turning to face him, her arms folded over her chest, "I've eaten my dinner, and I got a full five hours sleep last night so -"

"That's not why I'm here" he said gloomily

"What's happened?" She asked

"I'm going after Hydra" said Steve,

"What?" She asked, her eyes widening, stepping forward towards him

"I'm taking them down" said Steve

"Please don't" she begged

"I have to do this" said Steve

"No you don't!" She yelled, "You don't. Please...please don't do this. Please don't leave me"

"I won't rest until they're all gone" he promised

"No, don't go on some suicide mission because you delusionally believe this is your fault" she said, "Because it's not. And what if something happens to you? What about me? What about Peggy? I need you, we both do"

"I have to do this, it's the right thing" he said

"Doesn't mean I have to like it" she grumbled,

"I'll come back" he said, pulling her into a hug, "I promise. Can you promise me something?"

"What?" She asked, burying her head in his chest

"No matter what, you'll be okay" he said, "You won't fall apart. Promise me"

"I promise" she said feebly

She broke away from him, to once again stand vigil by the window. Steve watched her for a few moments before turning away. Just as Steve reached the door, she called out to him, "Steve, try not to die"

Steve hesitated, turning back to look at her. She could see how torn he was, between staying and going. But she knew him. And he never backed away from a fight.

"I'll try not to"

Steve Rogers was dead.

He had promised her he'd come back, but he had broken that promise. She guessed that it just proved that no one was invincible, not even Captain America.

What was worse, was that a part of her knew what was coming. She knew enough of Steve, to know the value he placed on his own life, especially in comparison to the lives of others. His death was not a shock, though no less jarring. He was Bucky's best friend, her close friend. He had been an integral part of her life for almost four years. And now he was gone. Bucky was dead. Steve was dead. And she was left by herself, to fend for herself. Who did she have now? Who would help her from her grief?

But Steve couldn't be the light to bring her from the darkness. The light had to come from her. She needed to bring herself back from the edge. This was her goal, her aim. It would be difficult, but she would not let herself fall to pieces. Because that would reduce Bucky and Steve's deaths amounted to nothing, and that she would have broken her own promise.

No, the future was a climb she must do on her own. And she would try. By God, she would try.

The sequel will be posted tomorrow, which will take place during The Avengers. The reason how she's still around by then will be answered in the first chapter, but I would love to hear your theories. I will also be doing one-shots from the seventy year gap and a short story of Agent Carter. Hope you all enjoyed the story.