The Liberty War || Infinity War & Endgame

Chapter Fifty-Two: 28

Music is "Strangers In The Night" by Frank Sinatra (Emma and Bucky's Theme.)

Picture is Tatiana Maslany as Emma Barnes.

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CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: 28.

{December 21, 1973 -- Fifty Years Ago}

"I've been thinking a lot about endings. I'm unsure if this is due to the fact that I've had so many, or that I've had so few. In a way, nothing ever ends. Not life, not love, not legacy. However, loss and loneliness are very real things. Even after we lose those we love, the bittersweet taste lingers. There's no theory that can comfort that.

"I think the reason I write so much about death is that I've experienced so much of it, but there are greater things in this world to busy oneself with. Life. Love. Legacy. I've had them all, and they've carried me to where I am today, back to where I started. Back to America. Back in time. Back to Bucky.

"Death is an inevitable part of every life--I'm not in denial about this--but it doesn't have to consume it. Life is what we make it. Make it about more than a poetic ending. Make it more than about death and pain and loss. Make it about life. Make it about love. Make it about legacy.

"I intend to take hold of my fate. I intend to conquer the odds. I intend to write my own ending.

"And I know that I have left a legacy."

A gentle hand rests on my shoulder, and it brings me out of my thoughts. I glance over, seeing a strong hand adorned with a glimmering wedding band. My eyes shift upwards, to the face of the love of my life.

Bucky smiles softly, glancing at the blank page in front of me. "You okay, Doll?"

I follow his line of sight. "Yeah, I'm all right."

"No offense, but you don't look it."

Sighing, I admit, "I just completed the last chapter of our story."

Bucky pulls up a stool to sit beside me. His eyes move to the manuscript. He sighs and takes my hand between cold metal and warm flesh. He knows what this means to me, and what it means for us. I swore in my letters to our family that I would send them the final chapter of our story one day. I've been writing it for the past three years, putting it off for a long, long time. Now that it's finished, it's time to send what's left of the future back to where it belongs in 2023.

"I think the world will have learned enough about Lady Liberty," I add. "The rest of our lives belong to us. And in the future, they'll know that nothing terrible happened on our mission. Those that know what happened will be able to explain to the world that this is what we wanted." I place my hand on the nearly completed manuscript. "I owe them that much."

Bucky leans over and presses a kiss to my temple. My eyes flutter closed, and a sound of relief escapes from my lips. This is a war I've been fighting for years, a burden I've been carrying too much on my own. Even with Bucky, this story is one I started in the 40s. It's come with me to the future, and then back in time. It's something I had to finish on my own.

I can finally let them go.

My husband tightens his hands around mine as he murmurs, "Do you want to do it now, or should we wait a little bit?"

I turn to him with watery eyes and a smile made of unfulfilled promises. "I've waited a long time, James, and I'm not getting any younger."

At that, Bucky's face breaks into a wide smile. "I'll get the Pym particles and give you a minute, okay?"