One Night In Brooklyn | Bucky Barnes 1940's

Monday, April 8th 1946

Spring was in the air. The flowers on the side of the road had begun to open up and turn their faces toward the beaming sun, and the breeze felt somewhat warm against Bucky's face. He stared out through the open window of the car, curiously locking his eyes on every detail in the landscape.

"So...you got a plan...or?" Steve looked over at him curiously, both hands on the wheel.

"Something like that" Bucky responded nervously.

"You have no idea, do you?" Steve chuckled.

"Not a single fucking idea" Bucky nodded in confession, letting a nervous laughter follow.

"On the bright side, it's not like you'll get much protest" Steve shrugged.
Bucky turned to face him, his eyes held a slightly disappointed yet sharp look.

"As an orphan, I'm allowed to say that!" Steve held a hand up in defense, and Bucky laughed, shaking his head.

"How are you guys so comfortable with making those jokes? Eloise is the same way." Bucky laughed to himself.

"I'd explain it, but I don't think you'd get it." Steve chuckled.

"I guess not" Bucky mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket.
The drive to Connecticut had taken almost three hours, courtesy of Steve's inability to drive at a normal pace. They had planned to go on a Monday, meaning Eloise would be at work for the majority of the day.

The locating of the graves had been much harder, Bucky hadn't dared ask Eloise right out. And each time he had tried to steer towards the topic, she had maneuvered them away from it with expertise. He didn't want to push the matter. It wasn't always obvious where the clear line was when it came to the things that Eloise did and did not want to talk about, even after all this time. But this matter seemed to be perfectly clear.

So he had taken to the library, public records, and archives. And after many nights spent playing detective, with the help of his mother's library card, he had found it.

The map was folded in his hand, the area was circled in bright red marker. He had looked over it so many times that he gave Steve directions without even unfolding it.

"Should I...wait here?" Steve asked carefully.

"No..No you uhm– You go for a drive. Be back in about 30?" Bucky clapped his friend on the shoulder and reached into the backseat to grab the bouquet of flowers.

"Alright buddy...see you in 30" Steve nodded in support as he watched Bucky get out of the car.

The cemetery looked ancient, at least this section of it. Some of the tombstones dated as far back as the early 1800's. It seemed to be a slightly forgotten part of the lot. He stepped around carefully, hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning over the names.

The grove of trees provided some shade, and the birds resting in the branches were chirping softly, making the area feel almost a bit dreamy. Bucky thought it seemed as good a place as any to be put to rest.

It took him about 10 minutes to find it.

Behind a large amount of unruly weeds and tall grass rested a black tombstone, the letters neatly carved in straight lines, the small statue of an angel resting on top.

Francesco Scarpacceli.

the dates beneath his name were blurred.

Isabella Scarpacceli.

No dates were carved for her.

Bucky reached down and began clearing some of the weeds. He ripped at the grass, and carefully ran his hand against the tombstone, wiping some of the dust and grime away. It was apparent that no one had tended to this grave in years.