Memories of Winter

You Deserve to Remember

The edge of the bed creaked as he used it to lower himself to the floor. He rarely used a bed and tonight would be no exception even if it was to be his last. He felt ready. If tonight was his last night in this world, he felt he could finally reflect on it and say he'd done something good. Something to make up for all those years used as a weapon by those lurking in the shadows. He'd been a good man before they'd found him, moulded him into the infamous assassin, and he finally felt like a good man again and this time on his own terms. The choice to join the war in his youth had been his, the choice to join this group had been the same. This time it hadn't been duty or loyalty, he'd wanted to do good with what had been done to him.

Somewhere not in his skin or his muscles but deep in his bones and in his soul, he felt his age, all 107 years of it; he was tired. Tired of fighting, maybe tired of living. Tired of the daily struggle with his guilt, shame and memories. He'd had plans of a simple life in his youth when the war was over. Perhaps after tomorrow, his war might finally be over, and he could die and stay dead or live out his years in peace and solitude somewhere. He looked at his metal fingers and flexed them, listening to the almost silent whirring. As long as he had this, a life of peace and solitude seemed out of reach. He sighed, leaning his head forward and running those metal fingers through his hair. He was tired.

The door opened, and he peered over the corner of the bed. There were really only two people it was likely to be, Ghost wasn't interested and stayed in her chamber mostly the phasing exhausting her. John knew better having tried on several occasions to be friends, quickly realising that co-workers were the most they'd ever be. Bucky didn't want friends, certainly not with the man they'd deemed fit to replace Steve, who'd fallen well short of the mark. Dreykov wouldn't have anything to say, she never spoke. He was grateful it was the blonde and white garbed image of Yelena rather than the bearded and brash Red Guardian. Alexi Shostakov was as big as he was big-headed, the only thing they had in common was that they were both super soldiers. Bucky tolerated him at best, Alexi thought he was Bucky's new Captain America, Captain Russia. Bucky wished Alexi had John's insight. Yelena shut the door behind her but didn't bother to turn on the light. He heard the clink of glasses and the slosh of liquid against glass. She sat opposite him on the chair, filled the glasses with the clear strong liquid from the bottle and handed him one. He took it without a word.

"I figured you'd be in here alone, that, or you'd slink off without saying anything."

He nodded to himself as much as her, "Too many years as a lone wolf. I find it difficult being around others."

"I know. We all do."

"Alexi would disagree with you; Mr personality."

Yelena smiled before turning sombre, "They need a speech out there. You know, some big hero thing, prepare them for tomorrow."

Bucky gave a snort of amusement. "Let Red Guardian do it, he's dying to."

"You and I both know, that's exactly why he shouldn't. It should be you. Those who steer clear of leadership are those who are most suited."

He did know that. Bucky shot the glass and handed it back to her. She didn't take it, merely filled it again. He gave her a look and took it back. "Then you do it. Leadership inevitably falls to one of us, and I'm more the guy, standing next to the guy making the big hero speech."

Yelena smiled, "Steve. I know, me too, but you don't have to stand in his shadow any more Barnes. He's gone, you're not."

"Steve's shadow was big it's true, but I chose to stand in it, at his side, till the end."

"You could've taken up his mantle."

Now he laughed sarcastically. "Captain America! No, thank you. Too much pressure. Sam, he'll do a great job. He is doing a great job. That was never me."