December // A Winter Soldier Story

43

ｆｅｂｒｕａｒｙ ４ｔｈ， ２０１４

３１°

ℬ𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎

Four weeks after her death, and two weeks after he finally brings himself to talk about her and lift the heavy weight of guilt and mourning off his chest, he decides to visit her grave.

Twice on the way to New Hampshire, he almost screams at Tony to turn the jet around. Anxiety and anticipation build up so quickly in his chest that he keeps panicking, but Steve calms him down, reminding him of why this is important. Between these brief episodes of nervousness, Bucky peers out of the windows at the front of the plane at the countryside.

The hills are littered with forest, tall pine trees jutting out into the sky and creating an uneven horizon. Snow still clings to the highest points of land, but the forest itself is empty of the color white, instead filled with greens and browns bleached by frost. It will surely snow again in this New Hampshire winter, but for now the ground is clear, and he is grateful that he doesn't have to return to the woods where their story originally began and be haunted by the exact same scenery they met in. The land has changed since they were last here, just as they have.

Tony finds a clearing a mile from the cemetery she is buried in to land. After her death, they had no idea what to do with her body; her parents hadn't known that she'd left her home and traveled hundreds of miles south, let alone had any clue what she'd been doing there. They also could not cover up the trauma she had endured while she'd been held by Hydra, as her body bore the irrefutable evidence of her suffering. So they'd told her parents most of the truth: she had gotten caught up in a military take-down of an illegal organization and been killed. Less truthfully, they added: we have no idea how a New Hampshire civilian ended up in the D.C. area dealing with Hydra.

They left out the part where she'd fallen in love with a war-torn assassin and traded her life for his happiness.

Her parents had decided to take her back home and bury her properly, in a small cemetery a few miles from where she'd first caught sight of Bucky all those weeks ago. And four weeks after her death, Bucky has finally mustered up the courage to go to her.

As the plane lands, Bucky's anxiety gives way to a need to be on the ground; where she walked for years of her life, where the trees and earth knew her just as he had. The second the back of the plane opens up, he is off of it with his heavy boots in the grass, breathing in the scent of pine. Steve is not far behind him. Tony remains on board; he will come back in an hour or so to collect them.

Bucky knows he is probably making it up, but he swears he can feel her better here than anywhere. Maybe just because the tall pine trees and small town are unmistakably tied to memories of her, just like the winter is.

The cemetery is just up the road. Bucky starts down the sidewalk, pulling his hood down from his head to let the cold breeze hit his skin. Steve doesn't like this - exposing his face could result in someone recognizing him, capturing him - but he doesn't say anything, because if Bucky is ever going to heal, he needs to be allowed to act normal every once in a while.

They walk for a few minutes. A single car drives by, but the driver doesn't even look at them as he passes; the town is small, and the people are accustomed to keeping their noses where they belong. Bucky imagines this may have been a reason Lea liked it here. It's quiet, the people are kind and distanced, and the natural beauty is breathtaking. Even the cemetery fits into the aesthetic of the town, something he notices once they reach it.

The gate surrounding the land is made of black wrought iron and curved into an ornate pattern. At the entrance, the gate is taller than it is in other places, looming above his head with the words Holly River Cemetery delicately displayed in cursive. When he freezes at the open gate, stuck in thought and overwhelmed with sensory information, Steve steps past him and gestures for him to follow. This spurs Bucky into action.

Once he is inside, he immediately searches for fresh dirt, a sign of a brand new burial. He finds what he is looking for at the bottom of a small hill, under the shade of a pine tree. A cold shock runs through his chest; he looks to the sky for a moment to try and halt the tears that quickly build up in the corner of his vision. After a few deep breaths, he closes and opens his eyes, and forces himself to keep going.

The tombstone is made of a dark granite. Seeing her name carved into the stone sends a shiver down his spine, and all he can think is, that should be my name. I should have been the one that died.

But it's not his name that's been freshly carved into the rock. Lea Grace Harrington is written instead, and as he reads over it it occurs to him that he never knew her middle or last name until now. Strange how he can feel like he knew her very soul, but was unaware of something as simple as her full name. None of the letters make sense to him except for the first three.

Now, standing before her final resting place, it feels real. Instead of feeling angry or lost or consumed with guilt or remorse, he just feels sad.

He bends down on shaky knees and sits before the granite, letting the wind and fresh air hit his face and calm him down. Again, he pretends the wind is the feeling of her hand brushing his cheek. After a moment, Steve leans down a little closer to him, a question on his lips.

"Do you want to be alone?" He asks. Always so thoughtful and caring. Always looking out for everybody else.

Bucky considers this for a second, and realizes: he's tired of being alone. "No," he answers. "I've been alone for enough of my life."

Steve nods, probably both in acknowledgement of his answer as well as in agreement to what he said, and sits beside him.

It's cold outside, but not freezing. It's a beautiful day. Bucky's mind quickly wanders somewhere else in the stillness of the moment, and he closes his eyes only to see her in his mind.

At first it is painful to see her so clearly while knowing he can't reach out and hold her. The grief is still raw in some places, and he hasn't bothered to hold it back. But here in this cemetery - seated over top of her body, able to plainly see that she is gone and there's nothing he can do about it - he knows he's got to come to peace with her death at some point. He's got to let go and stop hurting, or else he'll never move on and he'll never be able to keep his promise to her and he'll never feel better again.

Breathing in, he makes the decision to push away the guilt and anger and all the other emotions sending sharp pain through his chest, and takes another look at the image he has of her in his head.

There is nothing he wants to say anymore - she can't hear him, and even if she could, she would already know exactly what he'd have to say. She would know about the guilt he feels, how much he misses her, how he's trying to keep the promise he made her. So he just sits there and loves her, like he did when she was alive, like he'll continue to do long after today. She is so beautiful, and as he imagines her smile, a feeling of warmth - rather than bittersweet grief - spreads through his chest.

He thinks about the conversation they had about God all those days ago, where she said she didn't believe in an afterlife. Instead, she talked about how every cell that made up her body would go on some day to become something else. She was at peace with that idea, that one day she would become something else, some other small piece of the vast universe, just like she was something else before.

If she can accept this idea - that there is peace after death, knowing that your life will be sacrificed for another - then he can accept it too. The more he thinks about it, the more the thought comforts him. There is no reason to fear something as natural as death when the end of your life leads to the creation of something new. Each end has another beginning following it; she may be gone, but his story is just starting, and she would want him to move on and make something out of it.

The world is out of his control. But he is in control of himself, his own actions, and his own perceptions. He can create a life he wants for himself, even without her, and be at peace with it.

When he opens his eyes again, some minutes later, his eyes are free of tears and there is a small, contented smile resting on his lips. The breeze is back to being the breeze, and it feels good on his skin.

After a quarter of an hour has passed, Steve glances over at him, and notices the small smile. He is a bit confused by it.

"You ok?" He questions. Bucky turns his head. His smile is one of peace.

"I'm ok," he replies. After a pause, he adds just a little bit more. "Everything will be ok."