All those years
One day changes everything
Caught in your life
And the passion fades away
Saving for something
That you'll never see in your days
Shutting out everything
That you need

(Looking through distorted eyes)
Beautiful disaster
(Adding up a million lies)
So much for "ever after"

- "What Have We Become?" by Daughtry

"There's a flight to Heathrow that leaves at 6:30 p.m.," Steve said wearily, looking at his phone with bleary eyes. "We'd get there early the next morning. Give us enough time to get to the hotel and change."

Bucky squinted, trying to read the screen from his vantage point. He absently ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "Tomorrow?"

Steve shook his head. "Day after." He lay on one of the couches in the kitchen with his head in Bucky's lap. With a sigh, he lowered his phone and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Is that enough time to get Jake a suit?"

Bucky gently massaged Steve's temples, which was a little tricky to do since he didn't want to use his left hand. It seemed to help at least a little; Steve closed his eyes and relaxed under Bucky's touch.

"You sure Jake is ready for this?" Bucky asked. "International travel? Crowds of strangers? Big city like London..." The poor kid was already so stressed just being around the Avengers; Bucky could only imagine how terrifying it would be for him to walk through a bustling airport. It had taken him months to feel comfortable in a crowd, and he still found himself checking for escape routes whenever it got too crowded.

Steve sighed. "He's not, but what choice do we have?"

Reluctantly, Bucky said, "I'll stay here with him."

At that, Steve's eyes popped open. "No, Buck...you should be there too..."

It was true, Peggy had been his friend too. He had many fond memories with her and the Howling Commandos, before that day on the train. But she'd only ever had eyes for Steve. That much had been obvious from the first.

"It's okay," he said, still stroking his fingers through Steve's hair. "It's more important for you to be there. You can represent both of us, and I'll stay here with Jake—"

Someone gave a loud, fake cough. They both looked up in surprise to find Sam leaning casually against the kitchen island, his arms crossed over his chest. Bucky hadn't even realized he was still there; everyone had wandered off after supper, and Bucky had assumed Sam had done the same when they'd gone to tuck Jake into bed.

Quirking an eyebrow at them, Sam said, "I know it's been a long day, but—hello, built-in babysitter right here." He jabbed both thumbs at himself, his grin a little subdued but as warm as ever.

"Sam, I couldn't ask you to—"

Sam shrugged. "You're not asking, I'm volunteering." He pushed off the island and stepped closer, leaning over the back of a chair to make his point. "Come on, you both need to go to the funeral. And Jake's not up for that yet, plus he'd just be bored anyway. So let me take care of him, and you two go pay your respects."

Bucky thought this plan made the most sense, but it was Steve's call to make. Steve hesitated, then said, "Are you sure you're okay with that? It'll be two nights..."

Sam snorted. "What, do you need references or something? I've taken care of Sarah's kids for a weekend before, and they're way more of a handful than Jake."

Steve slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, frowning up at Sam. "Well...it would be very helpful..."

"Cool. Then it's decided."

Steve cracked a smile. "Thanks. I owe you one."

Sam grinned cheekily. "Okay, I'll open a tab for you. Someday when I have a kid, you'll be changing a lot of diapers."

The next day, there wasn't much chance to sit down and talk about their grief or anxiety. Steve spent most of the day on the phone—booking flights, reserving a hotel room, finding directions and arranging transport. He also exchanged several calls with a relative of Peggy's—a nephew, Bucky thought—to discuss the details. It seemed that Steve was to be one of the pallbearers.

For the most part, Bucky just tried to stay out of the way and help as much as he could from the sidelines. He packed his own bag and made sure that Steve didn't forget anything important in his. Other than that, the most he could do was simply take care of Jake so Steve didn't have to worry about it, and make sure Sam had everything he would need while they were gone.

If it were possible, Jake had become even more timid than before. The departure from routine in the past couple days must have been unsettling to him, no matter how much Bucky had tried to put him at his ease. He tried to explain what was going on in terms that Jake could understand, but he had a feeling it was a lost cause. How could someone who had never known love understand why they would go halfway around the world just to put a body in the ground?

Jake normally grew tense and alert whenever someone entered a room, and he usually became even quieter and stiffer when Steve was around. But now that the routine was broken, Bucky could tell that Jake was even more on edge than usual. He didn't relax his wary observation of his surroundings for a minute, even when it was just him and Bucky.

Bucky understood why Jake was so hyper-alert to everything. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was watching to see when the tension in the air would solidify into punishment for him. Bucky had been in similar situations himself—when things weren't going well, some leaders would take their frustration out on him. After all, why not take advantage of someone with enhanced healing who couldn't fight back?

Unfortunately, all the reassuring words in the world wouldn't do much good for Jake. He'd have to learn from experience that even when Steve was frazzled and brimming with stress, Jake still had nothing to fear.

As for Bucky himself...yes, he was sad that Peggy was gone, and concerned about the changes the Sokovia Accords would bring. But his feelings didn't matter. He was more worried about his friends. Especially Steve, who not only had to say goodbye to the woman he used to love, but also to his work as a leader of the Avengers. Both of those were things he'd probably expected to last a lifetime. Now they were gone.

Steve was so busy and distracted that day, Bucky didn't really get a chance to talk to him about anything other than logistics until they tucked Jake in for the night. Finally, after getting ready for bed and putting a couple more things in his bag for the trip, Steve got into bed and sat back. For the first time all day, he didn't have anything to do; for at least a few hours, it was the middle of the night both here and in England.

As Bucky slid into bed beside him, Steve let out a weary sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I just want it to be tomorrow," he groaned. "Or...the day after that, really. I want this to be over."

Not knowing what to say, Bucky just opened his arms and let Steve sink into his embrace. Steve's sigh was a little shaky as he settled against Bucky, but he didn't seem to be crying.

They stayed that way for several minutes, saying nothing because there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make this better, at least.

Finally, Steve let out another sigh and murmured, "Thank you, Buck."

"For what?"

"Helping out today. Coming with me. I...I'm glad I...don't have to do this alone."

Bucky nudged Steve's head with his. "Of course. I just wish I could..." I wish I could take the pain away, he thought. I wish I could bring her back. I wish I could see you smile the way you used to when she was around, like some lovestruck idiot ready for a fairy-tale ending. But he knew he couldn't do any of that, so he just said, "I wish I could do more."

"No," Steve mumbled, beginning to sound sleepy. "It's enough. Just...stay with me."

Bucky kissed the top of his head. "Promise."

There wasn't anything left to do. Steve had made all the necessary arrangements to get him and Bucky to the funeral. He'd packed his bag and double-checked to make sure he'd remembered his black tie and dress shoes. All he had left to do was wait. Wait for the hours to pass, wait for the airplane to cross the ocean, wait for the hour to arrive when he would say his final goodbye.

When he wasn't focusing on Jake's needs, Steve half-heartedly tried making plans for what they would do after the funeral. But every time he started, he found himself drawing a blank. He would need a place where he, Bucky, and Jake would be comfortable...but where should he look? Should they settle down in Brooklyn, since that had once been their home? Or should they move to D.C., so they could be close to Sam? Or maybe they should follow Clint's example and find some place in the middle of nowhere, where no one would come bother them...

After putting Jake down for his afternoon nap, Steve intended to sit in the common room and do some more house-hunting. Instead, he found Bucky waiting for him, fiddling with something in his hands and watching him cautiously, almost apologetically.

"What's up?" Steve asked.

"If...If you don't have time, that's okay, but..." Bucky took a deep breath, then held out a sharp pair of scissors. "Could you cut my hair?"

"Of course," Steve said, wondering why Bucky was so hesitant about asking. They'd trimmed each other's hair many times since they'd been reunited. "You are getting a bit shaggy."

Accepting the scissors, Steve led the way into the bathroom. Bucky followed, still looking hesitant. When Steve wrapped a towel around his shoulders, Bucky mumbled, "Could you cut it short? Like it was...before? The last time I saw her?"

Their eyes met briefly, then Bucky looked back at the floor. "Of course," Steve said softly, then got to work.

As the scissors snipped and tufts of hair fell to the floor, Steve felt like a sculptor freeing a statue from a block of stone. The man Bucky used to be was often hidden so well inside the man Bucky was now. Occasionally, he would push through in a brilliant smile or the pressure of his hand, and for a moment Steve would feel like nothing had changed. But most of the time, Bucky looked and acted so different, it was almost like he was a different person.

With careful movements, Steve cut the long hair short, dredging up old memories of the way Bucky used to look. There was nothing he could do about the metal arm or the many scars littering his body. He couldn't do anything to get rid of the lines in Bucky's face, either. But he could make sure that Bucky's hair looked the same as it did when they'd all been together. When things had been so much simpler.

Bucky kept his eyes closed while Steve worked, and only opened them when Steve pulled the towel from his shoulders. For a long moment, Bucky just stood staring at his reflection. Steve tried to read his expression—he didn't look happy, but he also didn't seem disappointed. "What do you think?" Steve finally asked.

With a tiny, wry smile, Bucky ran his fingers experimentally through his hair. "Doesn't look like me anymore, does it?"

Steve combed his fingers through Bucky's hair, in search of loose strands he'd missed. "I'm not the same either," he murmured. The changes in him just weren't as immediately obvious as Bucky's arm or the length of his hair.

And the last person who would have been able to tell had just died.

After a thoughtful pause, Bucky gently took the scissors from Steve's hand. "Here, let me fix up your hair too." And just like old times, he trimmed Steve's hairline and touched up the parts that Steve couldn't see.

Looking like this, Steve could almost pretend they were stepping back into 1945.

In order to get to the airport on time, Steve and Bucky had to leave before supper that evening. While Bucky carried their bags down to the waiting car, Steve hung back in the common room to say goodbye to Jake. Despite every good reason for doing it this way, Steve felt guilty for leaving Jake even for such a short time. He would just have to make it up to him once they got back and relocated. Without his work as an Avenger, he could devote every hour of every day to his son.

Kneeling down to get on his level, Steve smiled encouragingly at Jake. "Okay, Jake, remember what we talked about yesterday?" he said gently. "Daddy and Bucky have to go away for a bit. Just two days." He held up two fingers to demonstrate. "Tonight, and then tomorrow night...and then we'll be back. Understand?"

Jake nodded, looking very small and uncertain.

Steve carefully rested a hand on Jake's shoulder. "You're going to stay here with Uncle Sam, okay? He'll take good care of you, so you be a good boy until Daddy comes back."

"Yes, sir." Jake gasped, then hastily corrected himself, "I-I mean—yes, Steve!"

Steve couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. Jake was so uncertain, so awkward...but Steve loved that about him. Of course he did. He loved everything about him.

"You're a good boy already, aren't you?" Moving slowly so as not to startle Jake, Steve leaned in and wrapped his arms around his son. As he'd expected, Jake stood stiff and trembling in his embrace, obviously not knowing what to make of this. Maybe he was even waiting for pain to begin.

But Steve just held him in a gentle, loose embrace. "I love you, buddy. I love you very, very much."

Naturally, Jake said nothing.

After they said their goodbyes and set off for the airport, time seemed to move unnaturally fast. There were a few tense minutes when they went through airport security, but once the personnel realized they were dealing with Captain America and his friend, their problems evaporated. Steve wondered if it would be as easy on the return journey, when they were trying to leave London after the Sokovia Accords were signed.

Once they'd settled in their seats on the plane, Steve let out an exhausted sigh. In just a handful of hours, they would be making their way through the London streets to the church where the service would be held. He supposed he should probably try to get some sleep on the plane, because he certainly wouldn't be getting any after they'd landed.

Bucky's hand found his. Steve opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, and gazed at Bucky in silence. He was still getting used to Bucky's new haircut; it was like looking at one of his old photos come to life.

Steve was going to London for one last connection with his past. Once he got back home, he would have to focus on his future—on Jake. And Bucky was the bridge between them. The only one left who had known his past would stay with him for the rest of his future, too. The one constant in his life, who could help him make sense of it all.

With a grateful smile, Steve squeezed Bucky's hand as the plane began to move. "Let's talk about the future."

"Okay."

Over the course of their trip, they got a few hours of sleep, but most of the time, they ended up talking about what they planned to do once they got back home. They discussed where they should live, how they should fill their time, even how they might plan ahead for Jake's education. Steve should have known to expect it, but he was still surprised by how much easier these challenges looked when Bucky could help him plan. Bucky had so many good ideas—they could spend some time with Jake in one of the old cabins, gradually introduce him to society, maybe homeschool him for the first few years until he was ready to interact with his peers in a regular school.

It was just like when Bucky had come alongside him after Steve's mother had died. He couldn't do anything about the big problems—he couldn't bring back the ones they'd lost, he couldn't keep time from passing or stop the challenges heading their way—but he could ease the burden.

And by the time they landed in London, Steve no longer felt crushed. He was still exhausted and saddened by the past, but now he felt he had enough strength to face the future.

It didn't feel real. Nothing felt real. Steve knew this was probably partly due to how little sleep he'd gotten in the past few days, and the jet lag of being thousands of miles away from home. But even more than that, it was hard to believe the time had come at last. He was no longer waiting for the inevitable. The inevitable had come.

Steve and Bucky didn't say much as they got a taxi from the airport, checked into their hotel, and changed into their suits, freshening up as much as they could. Though he didn't feel much of anything, and his mind was blank, Steve found that his hands were trembling so much he couldn't get his tie straight. He stood in front of the mirror for several long minutes, tying and retying it, only seeming to make it worse each time. Without saying anything, Bucky reached over and fixed it for him.

The funeral was to begin at 10:00, but Steve and Bucky got to the church early, since Steve would need to get instructions on his duties as pallbearer. The cathedral was old and beautiful, filled with the same cool, reverential hush Steve remembered from the church his mother used to take him to as a child. He remembered sitting in the pew, gazing up at the stained-glass windows and vaulted ceilings, occasionally sketching the designs on a scrap of paper.

He didn't feel like drawing today.

Steve met the vicar and the other people who'd turned up early, but there wasn't much small talk. Most of these people were Peggy's relatives, or the children of people she'd worked with in the SSR or S.H.I.E.L.D.

As they waited for the hearse to arrive, more people began streaming into the cathedral. Steve watched them pass, wondering what connection each of them had to Peggy. Were all of these people her family and friends? People who had known her, worked alongside her, brushed shoulders with her in one way or another throughout the long years of her life...

Watching the crowds of people pass him by and enter the cathedral in twos and threes, Steve felt a new pang in his chest. He had been absent for so much of Peggy's life. There was so much he hadn't known, so much he probably never would know, about her. He'd only been a part of her life for a couple short years in the war, and then a couple more after he got out of the ice—and most of that time, she hadn't even remembered that he was still alive.

He wished he had more memories of her. He wished he could have been more than a footnote in her life.

At the first sign of a long, black car driving slowly down the street, Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see Bucky giving him a sympathetic half-smile. "I'll be inside, pal," he whispered.

Steve nodded, then turned and took his place with the other pallbearers, waiting for the hearse to pull up. As soon as he caught sight of the casket inside, he could hardly look away. In there—inside that ornate wooden box, under the British flag and the wreath of flowers—was Peggy's body.

Regardless of how strong he was, the casket felt so heavy in his arms. Steve's position was on the right, at the foot. He lifted the casket to his shoulder and began the slow, steady march into the cathedral.

All he could think about was the last time he had carried her. Occasionally, when he'd gone to visit her before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., he would lift her out of the bed and carefully move her to a chair so the nurse could change her sheets. When he'd picked her up, he remembered noting how frail she felt in his arms—like she was made of nothing but paper and sticks, light as a feather, ready to snap if he didn't handle her with utmost care.

She was so heavy now. When life had left her body, it had left her as heavy as a stone. As heavy as his heart.

It was hard to breathe, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, all the way down the aisle. This was the only thing left that he could do for her. It wasn't much, but he would see it done.

It seemed to take a million years, but finally they set the casket gently down and turned to take their seats. Steve slipped into the end of the first row, where Bucky waited for him. As soon as Steve sat down, Bucky's gloved left hand closed around his with a firm, comforting pressure. Steve leaned into his shoulder, swallowing hard.

The service was lovely. There were scripture readings, a prayer, and the choir sang a soul-piercing song that brought the tears burning to Steve's eyes. He bowed his head and stared at Bucky's hand clasped tightly in his, holding his breath until he was sure he wasn't about to burst into sobs. The vicar gave a short message about life after death, rest after a life full of toil.

The words and the music echoed around the sanctuary, filling Steve's heart with something like...light. Or cool, clear water poured into a crystal vessel.

Peace? Was that what this feeling was?

After the vicar's message, several people were called up to the front to say a few words about Peggy. Steve listened to their stories, feeling like he was listening to the life of a stranger. Yet he looked at the photo sitting on top of the casket, and she looked just like the woman he'd said goodbye to seventy years ago.

Peggy had gone on to live her life after he'd disappeared from it. Steve was glad she had. He'd seen photos of the man she'd ended up marrying, and by all accounts, he'd been a good man. He had died long before Steve had been pulled from the ice, so he'd never had the chance to find out for himself.

But Peggy had been happy. These stories told by her relatives and friends made that clear. She had spent her whole life pursuing the same goals as she had when Steve had been with her, and she had found people to share that life with.

It would have been wonderful to be one of those people. But their paths had diverged, and Steve knew he had to carry on without her now, just as she had all those years ago. He just hoped he had the strength for it.

The stream of people going up to the pulpit to speak words of remembrance were all strangers to him—except for the last one. The vicar introduced her as 'Sharon Carter,' and Steve thought nothing more of it, expecting to see another second cousin or something.

But the woman who took her place at the podium wasn't just another stranger from the crowd. He knew her!

Of course, he hadn't recognized the name, because when she'd been pretending to be his neighbor down the hall, she'd gone by 'Kate.' As if the revelation that she was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent wasn't enough, now she was related to Peggy?

She...Sharon Carter...glanced at him in the front row before turning her attention to the whole crowd. "Margaret Carter was known to most as the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.," she began, "but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy."

Steve became aware that Bucky was looking at him curiously. He also realized he was clutching Bucky's hand a little too tightly, so he loosened his grip.

"She had a photograph in her office," Sharon said with a little smile. "Aunt Peggy standing next to J.F.K. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to." Her eyes locked onto Steve's for a moment. "Which is why I never told anyone we were related."

Fair enough, he thought. He couldn't even imagine trying to fill those shoes.

Sharon's eyes swept across the room. "I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. She said, 'Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you something wrong is something right, even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, No. You move.'"

Steve could almost hear Peggy's voice. That sounded exactly like something she would say, like the times she had encouraged him both before and after the serum. Her words had always given him the strength to continue, so it was only fitting that they would do the same even after her death.

"We spent our best time together the past few years," Sharon said with a smile. "I asked her, out of all of her achievements, which she was most proud of. She patted my hand, smiled, and said, 'Dear, I'm afraid that's classified.'"

As soft laughter rippled through the crowd, Steve looked up at Sharon and finally found the family resemblance he'd never seen before. There was a strength, a quiet confidence, in the way Sharon held herself. Not the kind of strength that demanded attention. It was a strength that came from knowing exactly who she was, and not being ashamed of it. He'd noticed it before, in the few brief interactions they'd had, but only now did he recognize it as the same kind of strength he'd admired in Peggy.

Despite the sorrowful nature of the day, Steve found himself smiling a little.

After the service, all the guests were invited to partake of refreshments in a room off to the side. Most of the crowd filed out of the sanctuary, some leaving and others mingling around the refreshments. Steve stepped out of his pew to let the others sitting there leave, but he stayed behind. In a matter of minutes, even the vicar had left the sanctuary. The only one who stayed with Steve was Bucky.

They didn't say anything, just stood in the aisle and gazed up at the casket. Steve wasn't sure why he hung back. Maybe he just wanted more of a chance to say goodbye. Only the family were going to the cemetery for the actual burial, so this would be the last sight of her he would get, such as it was.

He wished they'd had more time together. He wished he'd made more time for her after getting out of the ice. Too often, he'd let other things distract him from going to visit her. As difficult as it had been sometimes to carry on a conversation...he should have tried harder.

Bucky nudged him, and Steve looked around to find Natasha standing behind them. For a moment, Steve wondered why she'd come all this way to attend the funeral without telling them, but then he remembered that the Sokovia Accords were to be signed today. Natasha was to be the Avengers' representative in Vienna, but it seemed she'd dropped by London on her way there.

Steve met her eyes, so warm and understanding. Though she'd never met Peggy, Natasha knew what she had meant to Steve.

With a sigh, Steve leaned back against the side of the pew. "When I came out of the ice," he said, "I thought everyone I'd known was gone. Found out she was alive..." He shook his head, remembering the conflicted emotions of that day. "I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back too," Natasha said softly. She paused as if weighing her words, glancing briefly at Bucky. But after a momentary hesitation, she continued. "You know, after everything that happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., during my little hiatus, I went back to Russia and tried to find my parents."

Natasha was usually so calm and collected, it was easy to forget sometimes that her background wasn't so different from Jake's. What would that be like? To find her parents, not at four years old, but as an adult?

But Natasha shook her head sadly. "Two little gravestones by a chain-link fence. I pulled some weeds and left some flowers." She met his gaze again, her smile small but full of sympathy. "We have what we have when we have it."

Steve nodded, staring at the thick red carpet running down the aisle. She was right, of course. He should just be grateful that he had any more time with Peggy at all. Every day was a gift he didn't deserve.

He ought to know that better than just about anyone. He glanced over to his right and saw Bucky's gloved hand resting on the back of a pew as he stood quietly at Steve's side. Every day with Bucky was a gift too.

Steve looked back up at Natasha. He didn't deserve her friendship either. She didn't have to come this far out of her way to attend a funeral of someone she didn't know, just for him.

Or...was this about the Accords too? Was she going to make one last-ditch effort to get him to put his name on that document?

"Who else signed?" he reluctantly asked.

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision."

No surprises there. "And Clint's retired...what about Wanda?"

"TBD. She did decide to go stay with the Bartons for now, though." She hesitated, then said in a would-be casual voice, "I'm off to Vienna, and there's plenty of room on the jet..."

Steve heaved a sigh. Here it was.

Natasha took a step closer, speaking gently. "Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"But what are we giving up to do it?" Steve said.

Bucky shifted beside him, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression remained neutral, but just looking at him reminded Steve of the people who would suffer most if the Accords were enforced.

Peggy's words seemed to echo in his mind. Plant yourself like a tree and say, "No. You move."

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign."

Natasha sighed, but her rueful smile said she hadn't expected anything different. "I know," she murmured.

They looked into each other's eyes for a prolonged moment. They stood on opposing sides of this issue, and Steve still felt quite a bit of disappointment over that. They had both argued their points several times by now, and it was clear that neither of them were going to change their minds.

And yet, there was no anger or bitterness in the air between them. Despite their differences of opinion, Natasha had still come to see him. She'd known she wouldn't be able to convince him, yet here she was.

"Well, then what are you doing here?" he asked.

Natasha smiled sadly up at him. "To remind you that you're not alone."

He'd thought that all of his tears had been wrung from him already, but he found more prickling in the corners of his eyes. As he tried to swallow the enormous lump in his throat, Natasha opened her arms and pulled him into a warm embrace.

Steve hadn't realized how much he'd needed Natasha, but she had. He supposed that was the mark of a true friend.

Bucky nibbled on a tiny sandwich, eyeing the crowds of people milling around him on all sides. It was impossible to keep everyone in view at once, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His one comfort was Steve's steady presence at his side. Steve remained calm, so all Bucky had to do when he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin was look over and see that Steve wasn't worried. And if Steve wasn't worried, that meant he was safe.

It had definitely been a good idea to leave Jake behind. Being surrounded by so many strange and potentially threatening people would have given him a heart attack.

Bucky wondered who all these people were. Not all of the guests who had packed the inside of the cathedral had stuck around for refreshments, but this was a large hall, and there still wasn't much elbow room. How many of the people standing around with black clothes and sad expressions had actually known Peggy personally? Were they just pretending to be sad because that's what you were supposed to do at a funeral? Or did they actually feel the ache of loss gnawing a hole in Bucky's chest?

"Do you wish you'd been able to see her again?" Steve asked in a low voice. He wasn't eating anything, just sipping at a glass of wine.

Bucky shrugged. "She was already over here by the time I was back in the picture. And I don't know if I would've been ready to make the trip anyway."

"That's not what I asked."

He looked up at Steve. His eyes were bloodshot and weary, but he was smiling a little. He didn't look quite as downtrodden as he had before. Bucky hoped this day had been helpful for him.

"She probably wouldn't even recognize me now," Bucky said quietly. Well, if he'd cut his hair like he had for the funeral, it might have been easier. But with long hair and a metal arm and all the scars? He shook his head. "I'd rather have her just remember me the way I used to be."

Steve looked like he was about to say something more, but then he turned as someone approached them. Not many people had spoken to them, since they didn't really know anyone here. But now a blonde woman stepped forward to greet them. Bucky recognized her as one of the people who had spoken during the service. What was her name again?

"Captain Rogers," she said with a pleasant smile, "good to see you again."

"Hi." Steve shook her hand. "Sharon, was it?" Something passed between them, like an inside joke that lent an extra humor to their polite smiles. "Uh...I'd like you to meet my friend, Bucky."

"Ma'am." Bucky shook her hand, glancing between them. He was going to have to pester Steve for the full story later.

Sharon's eyes lit with understanding. "Oh, I thought you looked familiar! So how does Bucky Barnes—" She cut herself off as someone called her name. A man with white hair stood in the doorway and tapped his watch, mouthing something about almost ready.

Nodding to him, Sharon turned back to Steve with an apologetic smile. "Looks like it's time to get to the cemetery," she said. "But I was hoping to catch up a little; maybe we could all meet somewhere for lunch later?"

Bucky watched Steve and Sharon making plans—apparently, Sharon was staying at the same hotel, and there was a pub just across the street. Most people would probably look at Steve and just see him being polite, but Bucky knew him better than anyone. When Sharon smiled at him, Steve's eyes lit up in a way that Bucky hadn't seen in a long, long time.

This was going to be very interesting indeed.

I will turn their mourning into joy;
I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.

- Jeremiah 31:13

Author's Note: Astute readers will notice that I gleaned some lines for the funeral from a couple deleted scenes from the Civil War movie. They were just too good to pass up!