In All Our Years Series - 4 In 1 | Captain!Bucky, WinterSoldier!Steve | Stucky

2010

| 2010 |

Bucky gently placed the old, framed picture on Peggy's new nightstand. It was partially posed - Grant held baby Bee, Chrys had her arm thrown around Bucky, and Bucky had Peggy pulled close to his side. But it was a good picture of everyone. That's what he outlined in silver.

He was with Peggy because Chrys and Bianca couldn't make it - Bianca with her work for Pym, Chrys with her husband's grieving family. They were the ones who noticed that Peggy's mind was deteriorating, little by little. She forgot dates, events. She hadn't begun to forget people, at least as far as anyone knew.

Bucky fine-tuned the position of the frame, and sat down in the visitor's chair beside Peggy's bed. The nursing home was a good idea, no matter how they felt about it. Peggy didn't like it, Bucky hated it, the girls despised it. But they all knew it was the best thing to happen.

"DC's nice, isn't it?" he asked, lightly. He wasn't really sure of what to say to her. He couldn't do anything to be sure of how lucid she was, if he was actually talking to Peggy at all. And he didn't want to do anything to push her further into forgetfulness.

She hummed. "I prefer home. Running around in the backyard with my brother, getting admonished by my mother for getting dirt on my shoes."

He chuckled. "Sounds great, Peg." As they conversation lulled, he studied the grey of her hair, the locks where it began to turn a wiry, shiny silver. He memorized the twists and turns of her wrinkles.

"What are you looking at?" she wondered, voice alight with a sudden admiration.

"Just...just you," he replied, under his breath. He gave a sad chuckle. "Just as beautiful as the day I met you."

"Well, you look much better now than you did then. You didn't even salute a superior officer."

He snapped his hand to his temple, giving a mocking salute. "Just about seventy years too late, yeah?" They both laughed lightly, trailing off into an uneasy silence. Bucky said, beginning to stand, "I should go." Because he should. He was probably making a mistake, he had no clue. But someone else should be sitting in that seat. Chrys or Bianca, one of the grandkids. She probably wanted someone else, he knew it.

"Jamie...don't." Her wrinkled fingertips brushed the back of his hand, a futile attempt to keep him close. He met her eyes with his own, and was saddened by the desperation in them. She murmured, "Just stay a little longer," as if it were a confession.

He eased himself back down into the hard plastic chair, folding his hand into her frail one. He caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

Voice thick, she asked, "Do you remember our wedding?"

He let his head fall, keeping their palms pressed as he set his forehead against the side of her stomach. Muffled by the guarded position and the cotton blanket, he replied, "Of course I do. You were like a dream, all dolled up in your lace." He remembered the day like it was yesterday, just like he remembered most things. Dum Dum and Falsworth whispered at him as Peggy walked down the aisle, a vision in her off-white long-sleeve lace, her hair dark and curled to a higher perfection than usual, lips a dark raspberry red. They said their vows and kissed in front of friends and family, shoved cake in each other's faces, and went on their honeymoon the next day.

"Things haven't been easy in so, so long," she groaned, mournfully. He felt her grip on his hand tighten a fraction, just for a few moments.