Captain America 1. Of drawing and dancing

_April 3, 1940_

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing that you're in this art class."

Lucille looked up and saw two young men standing on the other side of her easel. One was tall and his rolled-up sleeves revealed the lean muscles of his arms. His dark hair was beautifully ruffled from the breezy day, and he stood before her, all grace and confidence; he'd been the one to address her. The other was much shorter than his friend, scrawny to the point that she almost felt bad for him, and his blond hair looked less naturally disheveled and more just plain messy. He didn't have the air of confidence his friend had, although the first had more than enough for the two of them. He also seemed to be giving her an apologetic look, as if to say "Sorry to bother you, this wasn't my idea; my friend's a bit of an idiot."

Lucille laid her pencil down on the edge of the easel and looked back up at the man who had spoken. "My, my, stellar marks for observation." Behind the man, his blond friend cracked a smile. The dark-haired man took her jibe in stride and flashed her a winning smile.

"I love a pretty doll with a sense of humor. The name's James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky." He bent into a half-bow and held out his hand.

Lucille raised her eyebrows, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Lucille Hollis. Pleasure to meet you, James." She put her hand in his. Bucky touched his lips to her hand for the briefest of moments before straightening up again.

"Bucky, please, and the pleasure's all mine, I can assure you."

Making a show of looking around him, Lucille smiled, slipping her hand free of Bucky's, and gestured to his friend. "Won't you introduce your friend?"

Bucky looked momentarily confused, as if a girl had never asked to be introduced to his friend before. He recovered quickly, though, and stepped to the side, throwing an arm around his smaller friend to pull him forward. "This is Steve Rogers."

"Hello, Steve," Lucille said, shaking Steve's hand. "I saw your still life painting from last week. It was beautiful! You have a real talent for drawing."

"Oh, th-thank you very much," Steve stuttered, a faint blush coloring his cheeks at her compliment. "I really liked yours – your eye for color is really great."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucille could see Bucky looking between her and Steve as if he was witnessing something truly strange. She couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little more. Turning her full attention back to Steve, Lucille shook her head, smiling. "You are too kind, Steve. I'm afraid that was all pure luck! I can't wait until we get to the sculpting though. I've always wanted to try my hand at that."

"Me too," Steve admitted with a grin. "The last time I tried, though, my clay ended up all over the poor girl next to me. So you might want to pick a seat on the other side of the room."

Lucille laughed. "Well, Steve, I've never minded getting a little messy," she said, throwing a wink in too, to have a little fun with Bucky. Lucille couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about Steve that she immediately liked. As for his friend… it was the wink that nearly did him in. She saw Bucky's jaw drop and it took him several moments to pull himself back together.

"Well, Steve, I think we've taken up enough of Lucille's time, don't you think?" Bucky asked hurriedly, his smile having lost some of its dazzle. He tugged Steve back to their seats a few spots down from her and ducked behind his easel. Lucille could hear some not-quite-subtle whispering issuing from behind their canvases, some sounding hurt and some apologetic. She felt a little bad for teasing Bucky like that, but she turned back to her drawing for the rest of the class.

When the instructor dismissed the class, Lucille packed up and had nearly forgotten her encounter until Steve appeared next to her and cleared his throat. "What's up, Steve?" she asked, pulling her coat on.

"Ah, well, I was wondering – well, actually Bucky was – he, uh –"

Lucille smiled. "Not to worry, I'll handle it." She gave his arm a quick squeeze and a relieved smile spread over Steve's face. "See you later, Steve!" He waved as she hurried out of the room to catch Bucky. The man in question was already almost to the doors that led to the street. "James!" she called, dodging classmates. Bucky stopped and waited for her to catch up. "Thanks for waiting," she said a little breathlessly when she reached him, tucking a stray brunette lock behind her ear.

"What can I do for you, Lucille?" he asked, leaning back against the wall with an easy smile.

"Well, Steve said – tried to say, anyway – that you had wanted to ask me something."

"Yeah, but it wasn't important. Don't worry about it," he shrugged, waving a hand to flag Steve, who was coming down the hall.

"In that case, can I ask you something?" She waited until Bucky, looking perplexed, nodded. "There's a place a few blocks from here that's got a great band playing Friday night. If you're not busy, I was wondering if you would like to go dancing with me?"

The charming smile found its way back to Bucky's face. "Lucille Hollis, I would love to. Why don't you write down your address and I'll pick you up at eight?" He pulled a pen and a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed them to her.

She scribbled her address with a shaky hand, praying it was legible, and gave it to Bucky. "Well, James, I'll see you Friday night," she grinned, stepping out into the blustery afternoon. Before the doors closed behind her, she heard him call out.

"What's wrong with 'Bucky'?"

**-0-**

**Hi! I promise there won't be many author notes after this first one, but I wanted to thank you for clicking on the title and giving this little fic a chance! This story is going to be done in a new style for me, so I hope it goes okay. I did a small amount of research for this fic, and my sources will be on my profile, in case you're interested. Barring the apocalypse, I should have a new chapter out each week. I'm generally really bad about staying on a time schedule, but for some reason, I don't think I'll have too much trouble for this story. As someone who really likes to read long chapters, I'll apologize now for the shorter length of the chapters here, but again, the way this story ended up, the shorter chapters felt like a better fit. If you could be so kind as to take a minute to send a review of what you thought of this chapter, and the following chapters as they arrive, I would be most grateful! Thanks again! Love.**


	2. Of dinner and dating

_June 7, 1940_

"Lucille Hollis," Bucky's jovial voice spoke through the phone, "would you honor me with your presence tonight for dinner?"

Lucille laughed at his seventeenth-century phrasing. "Of course, James, I'd be delighted to."

"'Bucky' is just fine, you know. That's what everybody calls me," he reminded her, though she could clearly hear his enormous, infectious grin in his words.

"I know," she shrugged, twirling the telephone cord around her fingers. "But I like 'James'."

On the other end, Bucky chuckled. "So proper. 'James' it is, then, just for you. Pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds lovely, I'll see you then."

Bucky arrived exactly at seven, rapping smartly on the door. Her mother answered the door, and Lucille could hear him being ever the charming gentleman as she checked her reflection in the glass of the china cabinet one last time before going to the door.

"Hello, James," she smiled.

"Hello, beautiful," he grinned back. "Ready?" Lucille nodded, waving to her mother as Bucky held the door for her. At the car, Bucky opened the passenger-side door for her, shutting it once she had gotten in and running around to the driver's side. As they pulled away from the curb and began down the street, Bucky held his hand out and she took it, fitting her fingers snugly between his.

"Where are we going?" she asked ten minutes later as they passed into a part of Brooklyn she was only vaguely familiar with.

"It's a surprise," Bucky informed her. He just grinned when she gave him a suspicious look, squeezing her hand. "We're almost there," he added, and true to his word, he pulled the car over to the curb not five minutes later, cut the ignition and got out, quickly moving to her side to open the door for her.

Lucille looked around, not seeing a single restaurant. "James," she began questioningly.

He just grinned again, seemingly very pleased with himself. "Close your eyes," he instructed her. Still slightly suspicious of his plan, she complied. She felt his hands on her shoulders and he guided her forward, pausing to open the door of the building he had parked in front of.

The interior of the building was quiet. All Lucille could hear were her and Bucky's footsteps across the hard floor. After about twenty steps, he gently stopped her, one hand leaving her shoulder for a brief moment. She heard the clank of machinery and guessed they were waiting for an elevator. As if to acknowledge her correct assumption, there was a ding and soft scraping as sliding doors opened. Bucky steered her inside and the doors scraped shut once more. A button clicked to her left and the elevator gave a small jerk as it started its ascent. Bucky was quietly humming happily to himself while they waited. Lucille couldn't tell how many floors they had passed when the elevator's movement slowed and came to a stop. The chime sounded again and the doors reopened. Hands still on her shoulders, Bucky led her out of the elevator.

"Hold on for a second," he told her, both hands leaving her shoulders. She heard him move ahead of her and there was a metallic clink and then a high pitched squeal of what she knew had to be a door on old hinges. Then his hands returned and he slowly guided her up a short set of stairs. When they reached the top, she could feel a breeze and, distantly, there were horns honking somewhere in city.

"Can I open my eyes now?" she asked, curiosity and a little bit of impatience coloring her tone.

"Yes," Bucky said, sliding his hands off her shoulders.

Lucille blinked a few times as her eyes readjusted to the evening sun. They were standing in a rooftop garden. Directly in front of her, a small circular table with place setting for two, covered in a cream-colored tablecloth, was lit by candlelight, the sources of which were placed in the center of the table and around the entire garden. It looked almost fairytale.

"James," Lucille breathed, "it's beautiful. Did you do all this?"

"I did. I'm glad you like it," he said.

Lucille nodded. "I do. I really, really do!"

"Shall we eat?" Lucille nodded again and Bucky led the way over to the table, pulling her chair out for her before sitting down himself. Bucky lifted the top off of the pot that sat next to the candles in the middle of the table, revealing sauce-covered penne and meatballs. "I know you like pasta, and I thought I remembered you saying penne was your favorite."

"I can't believe you remember that," Lucille laughed, a little breathlessly. "Oh, James. This is perfect."

Bucky smiled warmly, dishing the pasta onto both their plates. "I remember everything you say," he admitted as they began to eat. They passed through dinner with small chat about their day, Bucky revealing how he managed to plan everything for the evening.

"I've been pretty edgy all day," he confessed. "I mean, I had it all planned out, knew exactly what I wanted to do, but it still could've gone belly up."

Lucille shook her head. "It didn't. God, James, this was absolutely spectacular. You have nothing to worry about," she assured him. Bucky just shrugged, pushing a lone penne noodle around his plate with his fork. "Why do you look like you're still nervous?"

Bucky sighed, laying his fork down. "I have something to ask you."

Lucille's brow creased slightly. This wasn't the James Barnes she knew. That one was charmingly cocky, and he never showed even a hint of nervousness. This one was just radiating anxiousness. "James, what is it?"

Bucky fidgeted for a moment more before meeting her concerned gaze. "Luci, I – would you – I was wondering – hoping – that you might want to go steady. With me. Would you?"

Lucille felt her cheeks grow warm. "I would like that very much."

**-0-**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I appreciate each and every one of you! Reviewers, there should be a reply from me in your inbox soon! Thanks again! Love.**


	3. Of baseball and birthdays

_May 25, 1941_

Baseball was a very long game, Lucille decided. And so far, not a lot had happened in this game. She glanced at the scoreboard again. The fourth inning had just begun, and the Dodgers were up by only a point over the Phillies, who hadn't scored at all yet. She looked the other way at Bucky and Steve. They seemed to be having a good time, and that was really the whole point. She had gotten the tickets for Bucky's birthday last week, knowing he was a big fan of the Dodgers.

The crowd suddenly roared, and Lucille looked to see the Phillies' batter rounding second already, the Dodgers' outfield scrambling for the ball. The Phillies' runner that had been on first base crossed home plate to thunderous applause and cheers from his supporters. Next to her, Bucky and Steve good-naturedly jeered as the batter finally came to a stop at third base.

Baseball was a very long game, but it had its moments, Lucille amended. The Phillies were able to score once more before getting their third out, now beating the Dodgers two to one. Bucky and Steve refused to be dismayed by this turn of events, assuring themselves and Lucille that the Dodgers would come back.

Sure enough, the Dodgers scored two more runs in the bottom of the fourth inning, bringing the score to three to two. Bucky threw an arm around Lucille's shoulders, pressing a celebratory kiss to her temple.

The fifth inning found Lucille at the concessions stand. It seemed the fourth inning had used up the game's allotted amount of excitement because nothing was happening this inning. She had decided to stretch her legs, promising to bring back sodas for both Bucky and Steve, who couldn't bring themselves to take a break, no matter what was happening – or, rather, wasn't happening. So Lucille happily offered to get the refreshments. Sodas in hand, Lucille climbed the stands to their spot near the top, halfway between first and second base. She handed one to Steve, and he nodded his thanks. Bucky pulled her down next to him, sliding an arm around her waist. Lucille stole a sip before handing the soda over to him.

"What'd I miss?"

Bucky shrugged, taking a large gulp of soda. "Not a whole lot. We shut them out at the top, but they just did the same now."

The sixth inning gave the Phillies the first home run of the game, much to the loudly-voiced displeasure of the Dodgers' fans in the stands around them. Bucky and Steve were on their feet, throwing their hands up in the air. Despite her earlier misgivings, Lucille was starting to understand the draw of baseball. Or, perhaps, it was watching Bucky and his childlike excitement over it. Jeering or cheering, there was always a smile of sorts on his face, and she thought it was just beautiful. That, combined with the fact that his smiles and good moods were more infectious than the common cold, made the whole experience worth it.

Bucky noticed her staring. "What's that smile for?" he asked, pulling her to her feet to stand next to him.

"You," she replied, stretching up on her toes and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Bucky grinned. "I may have to take you to more baseball games if you're enjoying yourself so much."

Lucille giggled. "I'm just glad you're having a good time."

"You sure know how to pick a birthday present. The only way this could be better is if the Dodgers actually managed to pull off a win here," Bucky added, throwing the scoreboard a disapproving glare. On the field below, the Phillies' third batter knocked out a triple, sliding to safety at third base.

"They will," Lucille nodded with the air of someone who wanted to appear confident, despite the fact they had a limited idea of what they were talking about. It made Bucky laugh. "I mean, they're only tied..." Lucille was forced to trail off as the next batter hit a double, allowing the runner on third to make it home. "Well, one behind isn't too bad, yeah…?" Bucky just groaned.

They watched as the teams switched places, and the first Dodgers batter stepped up to the plate. He ended up getting a walk, which, Lucille thought, wasn't very exciting, but at least he got on base. The Dodgers seemed to be playing it safe to her, with the next batter only hitting a single. The next play, though an out, showed some promise as the two runners each advanced, and now the Dodgers had one on third base.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Bucky was muttering, bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of his feet. The next batter took a walk, and now the bases were loaded.

Lucille could feel her own apprehension rising as Bucky continued his nervous jittering. The Dodgers were already on their fifth batter. He swung and the ball flew out towards third base. The runner on third made a dash for home. Bucky and the rest of the Dodgers fans were on their feet, jumping and stomping as if their energy could spur on the runner even faster. He slid headfirst to the umpire's bark of "Safe!" The fans around them whooped and clapped; Bucky and Steve high-fived.

When the sixth batter received yet another walk, Lucille changed her mind about the Dodgers' strategy. It wasn't playing it safe; it was making it as nail-bitingly suspenseful as possible. Bases were once again loaded.

The rows of Dodger fans around them seemed to fall quiet all at once, the hush briefly punctuated by cheers of "C'mon, Reiser!" "You got it!" "Hit this one!"

Lucille recognized the batter. He'd yet to make it onto a base, getting out one way or another every turn he had. Fourth time was a charm, right?

Bucky's hand had found hers, and he was holding on for dear life. The seconds dragged on. The Phillies' pitcher whipped the ball toward the plate. Reiser tensed, then swung. The ball arched through the air and over the back wall. Home run.

The fans were deafening as all four runners crossed home plate. The entire stadium seemed to be shaking, and Lucille thought that this must be what an earthquake felt like.

And then Bucky had his arms wrapped around her and she was suddenly off her feet, being crushed into the biggest bear hug she had ever experienced. Their fellow Dodgers fans from nearby seats and rows were patting them and everyone else on the back.

The game ended with no further scores, Dodgers: 8; Phillies: 4. The singing and cheering followed them out of the stadium, a long process, and into the parking lot. After a bit of searching, they found Bucky's car. Bucky motioned for Steve to go ahead and get in, and then he laced his fingers between Lucille's, gently tugging her closer. They stopped next to the trunk of the car, and Bucky used his free hand to sweep her hair away from her cheek. He left his hand on her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, smiling softly.

"Thank you," he told her, dropping his hand down to her neck, his thumb just grazing under her jaw.

"I'm just glad they won; I would have felt terrible if they hadn't," Lucille replied.

Bucky shook his head. "Win or lose, this is still the best birthday I could have ever wished for. It was a day with my best friend and my best girl, and who could ask for more? So thank you, Luci. I loved it."

Lucille beamed. "Good, because I'm usually awful with gifts, so don't expect anything like this again," she teased. Bucky just laughed and pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his.

**-0-**

**Hello again :) I hope this chapter was okay; it's not my favorite, but I really wanted to include the baseball game from CA: TFA. In case you're interested, I've put a link to the play by play (yes, this was the actual game from May 1941 that was playing in the background) on my profile. Reviewers, you should have my reply in your inbox by now :) Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! Love.**

**[Guest: Thanks very much, dear! I put an extra special heartbreaking line in that last chapter – wonder if anyone caught it? ;) ]**


	4. Of war and worry

_December 8, 1941_

The art class was quiet. Only the faint scratching of stiff-bristled brushes on canvas and the occasional sniffle punctuated the gloomy silence. The shock in the aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor was still strongly felt by all.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened with a resounding bang, making everyone jump and several people dropped their pencils. Lucille turned to see a young red-haired man breathing heavily in the doorway. She exchanged a glance with Bucky, who looked just as confused as she felt.

"Turn on your radio!" the man in the doorway burst out. "The President is asking Congress to declare war on Japan! America is going to war!"

The previously quiet classroom exploded into a cacophony of cries, shouts, and the scraping of chairs as people left in a rush to find out for themselves if it was true. Lucille felt Bucky grab her hand and he pulled her out into the hall after everyone else, Steve close on their heels. They followed a group of people outside and across the street into the ice cream shop, where a large crowd had already begun to gather. In stark contrast to the art room and the street outside, the ice cream shop was eerily silent as the press of people listened as the shop's radio broadcast the President's speech.

"– confidence in our armed forces," crackled the voice of the President, "with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph, so help us God. I ask that Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December seventh, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire."

Lucille felt Bucky slip an arm around her shoulders and she followed him out of the crowd and back to the street. Steve emerged moments later, staring at the two of them with wide eyes.

Bucky shook his head. "What a world we live in," he sighed.

* * *

"C'mon, Steve, keep that left hand up!"

Sitting in a folding chair with her feet propped up on the bottom most rope, Lucille glanced up from her book, watching Bucky adjust the position of Steve's hand before they started circling each other again in the boxing ring.

"I don't think it's very likely that I'm going to get into a boxing match with a Nazi, Buck," Steve panted, just barely dodging a swing from Bucky. "What's the point of this?"

"The point," Bucky explained, faking a jab to Steve's stomach, "is to get you into fighting shape. Besides, even if you don't get into a fist fight in the army, this is still a good skill to learn, don't you think? Maybe if you had known how to box, you wouldn't have lost so many tough scrapes in back alleys." He drove his gloved fist towards Steve's face, pulling back just enough to give him a light tap on the jaw when Steve moved far too slowly to block him.

"James," Lucille broke in, "how about you practice on a punching bag that isn't your best friend?"

"The punching bag isn't going to go enlist next week," he argued, although he was already climbing out of the ring. "Steve's gotta be ready."

Lucille rolled her eyes. "You beating him up isn't going to make him ready – it's going to make him look like he was hit by a bus."

"Gee, thanks, Luci," Steve groaned, leaning heavily against the ropes.

Lucille stood up and patted his arm apologetically. "I'm not sure boxing is the thing for you. You might be better off doing push-ups and running laps." Steve just shrugged, not arguing against the idea of training that didn't involve taking punches.

"You got lucky this time, punk," Bucky joked, pulling off his gloves and hanging them around the corner post.

"Jerk," Steve shot back almost unthinkingly, tugging off his own gloves.

"Children," Lucille chided, failing to hide her smile.

Bucky reached out and caught her around the waist. He grinned and pulled her closer, catching her lips with his and kissing her sweetly. Lucille wrapped her arms around his neck, content to let it last forever, but Steve awkwardly cleared his throat after only a few moments and they broke apart. Smiling, Bucky pressed his forehead to hers before stepping back and helping Steve out of the ring.

* * *

Lucille tugged her wooly scarf more snugly around her neck. The snow had stopped falling, and the two inches it had left behind crunched under her feet as she, Bucky, and Steve made their way to the recruiting station.

Steve slowed and pointed to a brick building on the other side of the street. "39 Whitehall Street," he said, checking the address with the one he had scribbled on the back of a flyer. "That's it." Across the street, a group of young men exited the office, papers in hand, talking excitedly.

Lucille followed Bucky and Steve across the street. Bucky motioned for Steve to go in without him. He turned to Lucille. "I don't think it will take long," he told her, reaching up to tuck an errant wisp of brown hair behind her ear.

Lucille smiled, though she knew it probably looked strained. "There's a soda shop down the block; I'll get some hot chocolate while I wait." She paused, biting her lower lip. "I don't know if I should say 'good luck'… I don't want to say goodbye," she admitted.

"Then don't," Bucky murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'll be back in no time at all." Lucille nodded, willing herself to believe she had nothing to worry about. Bucky smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips before heading inside.

It had been nearly an hour before Bucky and Steve finished at the recruiting station and found Lucille in a corner booth at the soda shop. Bucky slid in next to her while Steve took the other side. Lucille could immediately tell that Steve was unhappy, so she asked him what happened first.

"I got 4-F. It means I didn't pass the medical exam and they won't take me," he explained when she looked confused.

Lucille sighed, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze. She didn't say she was sorry, because, selfishly, she was relieved. Steve was strong-willed and had the bravest heart of anyone she knew, but he wasn't fit for war. She couldn't imagine her friend making it through training, let alone actually fighting on the front lines. Steeling herself, she turned to look at Bucky.

He smiled, but it was off; it didn't reach his eyes and there was a sadness to it that made her heart clench painfully. "1-A," he told her. "I leave for training in two days."

**-0-**

**Thank you for reading! We're getting closer to the events of the first movie! Reviewers, your reply should be arriving shortly :) Love.**

**[Guest: Thank you so much for your kind review! More heartbreaking (and heartwarming) things to come ;) ]**


	5. Of letters and love

February 20, 1942 – December 5, 1942

James,

I miss you. So, so very much. Even though it's only been about two months. Is it ridiculous? I feel a bit ridiculous. But it's true.

Steve is talking about enlisting again. I'm trying to talk him out of it, but you know Steve, so it's not going very well. Even the fact that it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form isn't deterring him. I'm tempted to knock some sense into him, but it probably wouldn't work anyway.

I don't really know what else to say. I wish I had more to tell you, but I'm afraid things here are pretty boring, especially without you.

I hope you're doing all right. At the risk of sounding like an overbearing mother, I hope you are getting enough to eat and plenty of sleep, and that the men in your unit (is that what it's called?) are not nit-wits and you get along with them - although you get along with nearly everyone, so I'm not really sure what I'm worried about.

I miss you. Love, Luci

* * *

My Luci,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write. They have us training day in and day out. We even have to do overnight training! I shouldn't complain, since I signed myself up for this, but I have to admit that it's much harder than I thought. They lure you in with promises of glory, but they leave out the parts about doing push-ups in the mud and ten mile runs in the snow.

I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you. I think about you every day. Wisconsin in the winter is a much better sight than Brooklyn, and I wish you were here because I know you love pretty, sparkling winter scenery. Say, maybe when this is all over, we'll make a trip of it and come here in the winter. Any description I give you won't do it justice, you have to see it for yourself.

Luci, my love, you shouldn't worry so much. I'm doing just fine – I'd even go so far as to say I'm doing wonderful! I mean, parts of me I didn't even know existed ache and I've got bruises everywhere, but I guess now I just know how Steve feels all the time. (You know, I'm not actually sure that's a joke.) But really, Luci, everything's fine. We don't get a lot of time to eat, but boy do we know how to make the most of it. I'll admit sleep is a little harder to come by, what with the hours they make us keep, but it's enough to get through the day (or night). The boys here are great. Of course I get along with everyone! Well, there's one fat-head that thinks he's the V.I.P. around here, but I'll soon outrank him and I'll send him on fifteen mile runs and hikes through the woods in snow three feet deep all day.

Well, it's nearly lights out, so I guess I should stop writing now. I miss you, Luci, and I love you so much.

* * *

Dearest James,

Oh dear. Just the illusion of power is getting to your head. I'm not sure a higher rank gives you those kinds of privileges over your underlings. But I wish you luck with it anyway; he sounds like he needs a good lesson taught to him.

Speaking of lessons being taught – or, actually, not taught – Steve got a 4-F classification again. I tried, James, I did, but he refuses to listen. I think he feels like he needs to prove himself. I'm telling him he doesn't need to do anything, that there are plenty of ways to help here, but he can't –won't – see that. I suppose I understand when he tells me it's no less his responsibility than anyone else's to do his duty for his country; it's admirable, really. But I'm not sure he sees the whole picture. I'll keep trying to talk some sense into him, if only because I don't know what else to do.

I am incredibly jealous of your perfect winter wonderland. It's nothing but grey and brown sludge here. Well, that's not entirely true, but it's close enough, especially now that it's all starting to melt. Actually, I took a little trip to Central Park the other day, just so I could pretend to have a wonderland. It was nice, but I bet Wisconsin is still better. If I didn't have a certain someone to keep an eye on, I'd already be on my way there.

I still miss you terribly, but I think at this point it goes without saying. I love you.

Luci

* * *

Darling Luci,

What I hate about this is that I don't get to write to you as often as I'd like. No, actually, what I really hate is that I'm not by your side. But I do wish, given the situation, I could write to you more.

The snow is melting here now, too. So it's less winter wonderland and more slippery, muddy hell. That's what the drill instructors here are going for, I think.

Tell Steve he's an idiot from me. But don't worry too much over it, Luci. There's only so much you can do; believe me, I know.

And I would never let the power of authority get to my head! I would use it appropriately on those who deserve it. And to get extra potatoes. I don't know what it is, but they do potatoes really well here. Can you tell I'm hungry? They've been working us like dogs lately, and there's talk that it might mean that we'll be sent over soon. But there's no official word yet, so I'm not believing a word of it. And neither should you. Seriously, these knuckleheads are just getting themselves worked up over nothing. I think it's because the weather is finally starting to get warmer, so the drill instructors are keeping us out and working for as long as they can.

It's chow time now, so I better get going or there will be nothing left but soggy beans. I love you and I miss you, Luci.

* * *

James,

Please don't forego a decent meal just to write to me! I love getting your letters, I do, but you need to take care of yourself firstly! Otherwise you'll be falling on your face and that's no way to gain the respect of your future underlings.

There's a ballet opening up in a few days! It's called Pillar of Fire. I really want to go, but tickets are selling like hotcakes and I don't think I'll be able to get one for at least a week, probably longer. The story is rather interesting. It's about a young woman who is afraid she'll never find love because the man she wants is trying to gain her younger sister's favor, so the girl settles for someone else. Drama ensues and the girl gets her guy in the end, happily ever after. I'm such a romantic and can't pass up a happy ending, so I know I'd love it. Goodness, I'm very excited, if you couldn't tell.

Well, I suppose we always knew that you getting shipped out was inevitable, so we shouldn't be surprised. However, I'll selfishly hope that you won't be, that it's just the warm weather making your superiors over-eager.

I wish you were by my side as well. Letters are wonderful, but I miss having your arms around me. Easter is going to be quiet without you, and my mother wishes you were here to eat her deviled eggs since the rest of us won't touch them (honestly, how you're still alive after eating that many of them last Easter is beyond me).

I love you. I miss you. XOXO

Luci

* * *

My darling Luci,

We won't be shipped out any time soon. They are only trying to prepare us, so our work and exercises are getting harder and longer. But the sergeants have said there's nothing to get worked up over. I hope that puts you at ease.

There is nothing wrong with your mother's deviled eggs. I would ask you to send some of those eggs this way, but I doubt they'd make the journey and they would make me sick. Tell your mother that she is wonderful for thinking of me and that I miss her delicious cooking.

That ballet sounds right up your alley. You'll have to tell me how they get to the happy ending when you see it.

I'm sorry this letter is so short, but we're off to do night training exercises in fifteen minutes. I promise a longer one next time. All my love.

* * *

Dearest James,

I'm incredibly glad to hear that you won't be going anywhere any time soon. Steve has become much less insufferable now that he knows you're still in America. I swear, I was going to have to tie him down to stop him from stealing a plane or a boat to get over there with you.

Do you get to listen to the radio there? Steve and I listened to the Dodgers and Giants' game the other night. It was really quite exciting – I think your love of the game is rubbing off on me. The third inning was where the excitement was. The Dodgers scored four runs! It was nearly impossible to keep up with all the names, although that may just be because I don't have the practice listening to games as you and Steve do. They scored a few more times, and ended up winning seven to six! I suppose being out in Wisconsin, you might not get the same programs. You'll have to ask Steve for the play-by-play if you want to know what exactly happened; I don't remember much other than what I've already told you.

My mother appreciates your love of her cooking and will be sending cookies soon. If anything will catapult you into popularity there, it would be sharing those with the other men.

I don't believe I have much else to report. I just miss you. Do you know if you might get time off to come home for a time? That would be absolutely wonderful. I'm getting more and more restless without you here, I can hardly stand it.

I love you.

* * *

My lovely Luci,

Those cookies were enjoyed by no one but me. That you thought I'd even share one is hilariously silly of you. Besides, I'm already the most popular here, what with making corporal and all. But honestly, they were little pieces of home and I wouldn't have given them up for the world. Thank your mother several times for me, please!

Of course my good influence is rubbing off! You couldn't be my girl and not start to like baseball. Just not possible. We don't get the New York games over here, in the very limited amount of time we have to listen to the radio. Your game summary was superb, but I might ask Steve for a few more details.

I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I highly doubt I'll get time off. I'll ask, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. I know how you feel, the restlessness and everything else. It's almost unbearable, how much I miss you. If the penalty wasn't so severe (and permanent), I'd be tempted to hop the next train out of here and home to you. All I can ask is that you hold on, hold on for me, for us. It may be a while.

And… I understand if that's too much to ask. If you want to move on, I won't blame you. Asking you to wait for weeks, months, even years is a tall order. I want you to be happy, Luci. That's all I want. And if it's not with me, I'll understand. But I'm yours as long as you'll have me. I love you.

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes, what on earth has gotten into your head? If I didn't want to wait, I would have moved on as soon as you left. I love you, James, and nothing is going to change that. I will wait as long as it takes. Being with you is what makes me happy. Don't fool yourself into thinking anything else. We'll get through this together, no matter how long it takes. Okay?

All right then.

I sort of assumed they wouldn't be giving any time off, but it never hurts to ask.

I finally saw Pillar of Fire a few days ago, with my family. I really liked the Nutcracker as a child, but I think the only reason I knew what was going on in Pillar of Fire was because I knew the main points of the story beforehand. I guess ballet isn't for me. Oh well. The positive side is that Connie now won't be hissing "What is going on?" and "This is so boring!" in my ear every ten minutes. Sometimes I can't figure out how we're sisters.

Please don't do anything stupid that will get you into trouble, like sneaking onto a train. Miles and miles away, and I still have to worry about you. And stop thinking those ridiculous thoughts about me moving on. I don't know where you got them, but I'm putting an end to them right now.

I love you.

Luci

P.S. Congratulations on making corporal!

* * *

My sweet Luci,

I'm so sorry. I got a little down about all this. One of the guys here got a letter from his wife saying she met someone else and wanted a divorce because she didn't want to sit around being lonely while she waited for him to come home. Can you believe that? He was so devastated that we had half a mind to hide all the rifles for a few days. Poor fella spends all his free time getting sauced with cheap booze.

I am thanking my lucky stars a hundred times a day that I found a girl like you. You are beautiful and kind and wonderful. I'm so grateful that you somehow fell for my horrible, over-the-top charm.

I did ask about getting time off to go home, and they said no. I guess I figured that's what they'd say, considering we're about to jump into the middle of a war. The whole goal here is to get us battle-ready as quickly as possible, and time off would screw up their precious plans. But after nearly five months now, I think it would do us some good to see people other than the men we spend practically 24 hours a day with. The men are great, it's nothing against them, but sometimes – like with family – you just need a break.

Ballet might not be for you, my dear, but that just leaves more time for baseball, which is better for you anyway. I never understood ballet myself. How can you know what is going on if nobody talks? I think there's some sort of secret pointed-toe code that tells the audience (the ones in the know at least) what is happening. Lifting the right leg signifies the desire to do something forbidden. A three and a quarter clockwise spin means it's time to get a drink. Baseball doesn't seem so complicated now, does it? At least you tried.

Oh, I almost forgot. I have to tell you that this will likely be my last letter for a while. They're moving us to the boondocks out in some giant forest a few hours north of here. Apparently it will be good practice since the land is very similar to what it will be like over in Europe. But it means, unfortunately for us, that I won't be able to write or get any of your letters until we return to Camp, which could be a month or more. I will write you again as soon as we get back.

I love you.

* * *

My ever-patient Luci,

We are, at last, back. That was exhausting. Two and half months of crawling through the dirt and mud and all kinds of disgusting things with all of our gear on our backs. You wouldn't think, considering the kind of winter Wisconsin gets, that it could ever get very hot here, but you'd be very wrong. In winter, it's like the arctic, and in summer, it's practically tropical. The weather here is confused. I could take a hundred showers today and still not be clean of all the dirt and sweat. But I guess we learned how to work with the terrain and use it to our advantage. Although Nazis will probably be harder to hit than the trees we were using as target practice.

I'm sorry this is very short. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back. I feel like I could sleep for a year, and since we get the next 36 hours off, I think sleep is exactly what I'm going to do.

All my love.

* * *

My poor, exhausted James,

I'm so happy to hear you are back! I tried to keep a list of things I wanted to tell you about while you were gone, but I might keep it to the ones that are actually interesting. I really don't think you would particularly care to know that Uncle Robert visited for a few days in August.

Let's see. Well, back in July, a new musical came to Broadway, "This is the Army" – have you heard of it? I guess it was based on the musical from the first world war. We went a few weeks after it opened, Steve came, too, since I thought he might like it. It was great fun, actually. Funny, moving, and they're doing it for the Army Emergency Relief Fund, which is nice. I imagine it will be around for a while, so hopefully you'll get to see it too.

The war doesn't seem to be going very well for anyone. I try to keep up on it, but sometimes it gets to be too much. I'm just awfully glad you are still here. I know it's selfish, but I can't help myself. Any woman who is happy that her man has been shipped out has a screw loose. But don't take that to mean that I don't support you! Of course I do. What will come, will come, and if I have to buy bonds and start rationing, then I certainly will if it means helping you and all the other soldiers.

Actually, my mother wants Connie and me to volunteer for the Red Cross. They said we could be doing anything from rolling bandages to taking blood from donors. Can you imagine Connie trying to draw someone's blood? She'll have fainted at the sight of the needle. Good thing I'm not nearly so squeamish. I think that's what I'd like to do though, be a part of the Red Cross. Sitting here wringing my hands is a waste of time. Maybe I'll become a nurse after the war, too, or during, even.

It seems Steve's enthusiasm is infectious. Next thing you know, I'll be the one trying to enlist! (He's tried again. He even told me that he left off the asthma on the form this time! It's as if he has a death wish!)

I hope all is well and that you've gotten some good nights' sleep in you after your forest training. Hugs and Kisses.

* * *

Darling Luci,

Your hugs and kisses are greatly appreciated. I long for the day I can receive them in person again. But don't you even think about trying to enlist - this isn't something you should be doing. Not to mention you'd have to look like a man, and I don't think I could take it.

You would make a fantastic nurse, kind and caring as you are. Your sister… not so much. She might have to stick to rolling bandages. I think it would be best that you try out the Red Cross first, though, before committing yourself to the life of a nurse. Who knows if you'll even like it that much?

Word of that musical has gotten here. A few of the men here were picked to perform in it, actually. The barracks have gotten quieter without them, though I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. It's certainly easier to get to sleep without the show tunes, anyway.

And I know that I volunteered for this, but I'm also glad I haven't gone overseas. It's all much more serious here than it seemed back home. Another guy from a different platoon got a letter from his girl saying it was too hard for her to be apart for so long and not know when or if he'll be back. It makes me profoundly grateful that I've got you! I don't think I say it nearly enough. You are the best girl. I love you so much, Luci.

* * *

My dear James,

I'm so sorry for the delay! My parents took us on a trip upstate and said that since you haven't been shipped out yet, I could take a break from writing you and spend some time with them. As if I've just shut myself in my room for the past eight months! You know, I wasn't much of a rebellious child, but boy did I want to be right then! I just couldn't believe it. Poor Steve has had to listen to me rant about this since we got back.

I thought it was mighty neat to have actual soldiers in the musical. Who knew so many of them had that kind of talent? To think that you know some famous stars now! You'll have to introduce me if we ever get the chance; I'd really like to tell them how fabulous it all was.

Don't you think I'd look good as a man? I mean, it'd be so easy. I'd just have to cut my hair, which is a pain to deal with anyway, wear pants and a tie. Nothing to it!

James, you can pick your chin up off the floor now. I'm only joking, promise.

You do make a good point about trying out the Red Cross first. Being a nurse is an awfully big job, not that I couldn't do it. I suppose we'll just have to see how blood drawing goes. Connie is trying to convince Mother that she could do something else to help out, but Mother isn't having it, so Connie's taken to sulking around the house when she's home. More often than not, though, she takes every opportunity to stay out of the house. I think she's been at Bonnie's house nearly every day this week.

I'm just as lucky to have you. All my love.

Luci

* * *

Sweetheart,

I thought you had actually gone to enlist! No, I'm kidding, I knew you probably had some reason you couldn't write. I'd ask you to tell me what you did on your trip, but I'm afraid that would just make me jealous, because you probably went to the beach or something nice like that. We have a lake at the far end of camp, but it's not the same as an ocean view.

I like your long hair. It's fun to play with and you make the cutest angry faces when I get it tangled up. Besides, you don't know how to tie a tie and it's harder than it looks. I'll have to make sure Steve won't teach you, just to be safe.

Your sister sure is dramatic. Maybe she should become an actress? Although I can't see your parents agreeing to that. You, however, would, as I said, be a great nurse. There's a lot to learn for that though, but you are more than capable. I'll admit that I might get a little jealous that other guys would get your attention, but if it's what you decide to do, I'll get over it.

Things are winding down now here, but only because the temperature has dropped about forty degrees. There's no smooth transition between seasons here! How do the people who live here do it? One day it's nice and sunny, the next there's frost on the ground. Ridiculous. Give me the city any day.

Hopelessly in love with you, as always.

* * *

Darling James,

There's a bit of a chill to the air here in Brooklyn, too, if it makes you feel any better, but that's November for you. Thinking of you this Thanksgiving; I hope they give you a nice big meal for it. We're insisting that Steve join us, and no one can say no to my mother for long, so that will be nice. But we'll miss you.

You know, Connie being an actress might not be such a bad idea. Our parents might not be that opposed to it, if it meant getting her an outlet for her dramatic flair. And there are still lots of choices for me, it's not like I have to go into nursing. I could teach, or be a secretary, or a housekeeper. No need to decide right this minute.

I won't tell you where we went, but after our trip to Wisconsin in the winter like you promised, we'll go to where my family went.

I need to get this to the post office before it closes, so I suppose I should end it here. Take care of yourself for me. Love,

Luci

* * *

Luci - I'm coming home. Save me a seat at the table for Christmas.

**-0-**

**I'm sorry it's once again a day late! It might be best to change my update schedule to Thursday/Friday just because of my ever-changing job schedules. But hopefully the fact that it's a beast of chapter makes up for it! Maybe? ;) This one's been a while in the making (SO MUCH RESEARCH - new links on profile in case you're interested), so I hope it all makes sense. I went a little cross-eyed while trying to edit it for the last time, so I may have missed things. Reviewers of chapter 4, replies should be in your inbox soon. Love.**

**[Guest: It's almost worse when you know it's going to happen and there's nothing you can do about it.. I hope you liked this chapter, even though they weren't physically together! Thank you very much for your review!]**


	6. Of pasta and promises

_December 19, 1942_

It had been three days since getting James's final letter and Lucille was pacing the length of her room impatiently. Again. Her sister kept teasing that she would wear a hole in the floor soon if she kept it up. But Lucille didn't know what else she could do to keep herself from going mad from waiting. She knew it was foolish to believe James would be back very soon after his letter; no doubt there were many tasks to do before they could leave. Telling herself that hadn't helped her restlessness one bit. All kinds of scenarios played through her head like bad dreams: they had suddenly decided to cancel the leave to continue training; there was an accident during the last training exercise and James had ended up in the hospital; worse yet, they'd decided send James and his fellow soldiers overseas.

Lucille spun on her heel once more, throwing a glance at the letter that still lay on her nightstand. It looked innocent enough. She sighed and twirled around again.

There was a faint knock on the front door downstairs. Lucille halted mid-step, acutely aware of the frantic butterflies that erupted in her belly. Her nervousness only stopped her for a fraction of a second before she was tearing open her bedroom door and flying down the stairs, hastily mumbling an apology as she elbowed her sister out of the way. Lucille barely made it to a stop to avoid running into the door. Taking a painfully long moment to straighten her skirt and smooth her hair, Lucille took a deep breath in as she opened the door.

Bucky stood on the other side, looking even better than she imagined. There were more well-defined muscles that shaped his frame, and his hair was shorter than it had been, but he was still her James Barnes, if that wide, beaming smile was anything to go by. Lucille found herself being propelled forward before she was even aware that her feet were moving. She wrapped her arms around Bucky's noticeably more solid torso, tucking her head under his chin and relishing the sorely missed feeling of Bucky's arms around her.

"You're here," she whispered, fingers clutching at the fabric of the back of Bucky's shirt, almost afraid to let him go.

"I am," he assured her. "I missed you so much."

"God, I missed you too," Lucille mumbled into his chest. Behind her, Lucille was vaguely aware of her mother hissing at Connie to go to her room and leave her and Bucky alone. "So," she said, pulling away after a long moment, "how was training, Corporal?"

Bucky shook his head with a smile, and told her, "It's Sergeant, now."

"Oh, full of authority now, are we?"

"Not really," Bucky shrugged, "but I do get to boss around the corporals and privates occasionally."

"I see," Lucille grinned. "Congratulations, then, _Sergeant_. So fancy."

Bucky wrapped his arms more securely around her waist. "Fancy enough to deserve a girl like you?"

"Maybe..." Lucille squeaked when Bucky suddenly brought his lips crashing down on hers. She was quick to respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and fitting her body against his as he pulled her even closer.

The kiss was a long time in coming, and the two were determined to make up for lost time.

Finally breaking apart, Lucille smiled contentedly, already feeling her lips grow red and slightly puffy. "That was long overdue," she murmured, still a little dazed.

"No kidding," Bucky agreed, sounding pleased.

* * *

"James, are you burning the garlic bread?"

Bucky gave Lucille a look of exaggerated hurt. "I can cook!" he defended himself, sliding neatly in front of the blackened end of the French bread loaf that he had just taken out of the oven.

Lucille rolled her eyes with a smile. "I never said you couldn't cook. I was just worried about this garlic bread in particular."

"It may be... a little well done," Bucky admitted with a grin. "I'll just scrape it off a bit and it will be right as rain; don't you worry your pretty little head."

"I should have put you in charge of the bread," Lucille stage-whispered to Steve, who immediately shook his head.

"Bucky and I usually order out for a reason," Steve said, sitting down on a stool at the breakfast bar of Bucky's small kitchenette. Bucky tossed a chunk of burnt bread over his shoulder at Steve, who just patiently brushed the crumbs off to the side.

Lucille stirred the spaghetti noodles in the pot one last time before deciding they were ready. She grabbed the pot holders off the counter, placed the lid slightly askew on the pot and hauled it over to the sink. Slowly, she poured the water out of the pot, craned her neck to keep her face out of the scalding steam. "Where's the sauce?" she asked.

"Right here," Bucky said, popping the top off the jar for her. She took it from him and dumped the contents in the pot. She took the wooden spoon and folded the sauce into the tangle of noodles.

"Okay, I think we're ready," she told the other two. Steve grabbed the plates and forks while Bucky uncorked the wine and brought it and three glasses to the little coffee table in front of the couch. Lucille divvied up the pasta between their plates and passed around the garlic bread before settling down on the couch next to Bucky.

"Can I just say, this is probably the best food I've had in about a year," Bucky said around a mouthful of spaghetti.

Lucille smiled. "Really? I thought this wasn't anything very special. Not for your first real home cooked meal since being home." She crunched thoughtfully on a piece of garlic bread for a moment. "A steak dinner would have been more appropriate, but I don't know how to cook a fancy steak and it wouldn't have been nice to have you make your own dinner."

Bucky shrugged. "You're not the one that's been living off mass-produced boiled everything for a year. This right here is the stuff of the gods." Lucille and Steve shared a grin over their pasta. Then Lucille leaned over kissed Bucky on the cheek.

"Welcome home, Buck," Steve said.

* * *

Steve had left a couple hours ago. Lucille was curled under Bucky's arm and a blanket as they sat on the couch, the radio in the corner of the room softly playing a Glenn Miller song. Bucky's fingers lightly tapped the rhythm of the song against her shoulder. Lucille smiled to herself and closed her eyes contentedly.

"Luci?"

"Mmm?"

"What would you say to going up to the roof?"

Lucille opened one eye. "Bit chilly, isn't it? Middle of December and all that?"

"Can't be that bad; it's been snowing all evening, so I say we should see how the city looks in a fresh coat of snow."

Lucille bit her lip, very aware that he was using her love of newly fallen snow against her. "All right," she agreed, "but only if I get to take the blanket with me."

Bucky laughed, "Of course you can." They got up from the couch and Lucille followed Bucky out of the apartment and to the elevator, wrapping her blanket securely around her. As they travelled up the four floors to the top, Bucky settled his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head as he hummed the last song that had been playing over the radio. The elevator gently jolted to a stop and the doors slid open. Bucky, an arm still around her blanket-clad shoulders, led the way to the far end of the hall to a heavy metal door. It opened with a sharp, metallic screech of protest and the couple ascended the short set of steps to the roof.

It was as if they had stepped into a different world. The normally noisy city of Brooklyn no matter what the time of day or night was eerily silent as the snow captured the sounds. Though it was well past dark, the sky was still glowing orange, the innumerable lights of the city reflecting off the new snow and getting caught in the clouds. Bucky followed a few steps behind her as she went to the edge of the roof and looked over the wall to the street below. There weren't even any tracks in the snow on the street, and she thought it was beautiful. She turned to look at Bucky, who was looking at her with a smile.

"It's so gorgeous, James! Come see!" She held a hand out to him from under the blanket. He stepped forward and took her hand, but he didn't look out at the city. He kept his gaze on her, his soft smile fading a bit. Lucille squeezed his hand. "James? What's wrong?"

Bucky sighed, looking down at their hands. "Luci... I was gone for a year. That's a long time; gives a guy a lot of time to think." Lucille stayed silent, unsure of where Bucky was going with this but not liking the conclusion her thoughts came to. He continued, unaware of the worry that was welling up inside her. "I thought a lot about us while I was at McCoy. I didn't think it was fair to make you wait for a fella with such an uncertain future. And I still don't know what the Army will have me do."

Lucille attempted to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. "James -" He squeezed her hand and her protest died on her lips, her heart dropping into her stomach.

"When I got your letter, the one saying you would wait forever, it helped me realize what I needed to do, so..." Bucky let go of her hand and took a step back. Lucille closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. "Luci?" She opened her eyes again at the sound of his voice, her vision blurring as she fought to keep her tears from falling. She blinked rapidly and then the blanket was falling into the snow behind her as the scene in front of her cleared. Bucky was down on one knee in the snow, holding a small red box that contained a thin ring with a softly glinting gem on top. "Luci, my love, will you marry me?"

Lucille's hands flew to her mouth as the tight lump in her throat and the worry were suddenly washed away in a flood of relief. She nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes of course, James!" Bucky, all smiles, stood up and took the ring out of the box. Lucille gave him her left hand and he slid the ring onto her finger.

Still holding onto her hand, Bucky pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you, Luci."

Lucille felt a few happy tears slide down her cheeks. "I love you, too, James."

**-0-**

**I know, I know, I didn't update last week... Sorry! Blame it on the holidays and suddenly becoming an in-demand sub. BUT! To make up for it... double update day! That's right, TWO chapters today! I hope you enjoy them! Reviewers, I'll be replying to you as soon as I get these posted this time, so keep an eye out in your inboxes :) Love.**

**[Guest: He really did come home! :) I hope the events of this chapter supplied the much-needed time together for you! Thank you for your awesome review!]**


	7. Of fun and farewells

_May 17, 1943_

"James, go. Please. Have fun on your last night home." Lucille tiredly tried to push Bucky out of the door to where her sister Connie and Connie's friend Bonnie waited with Steve in Bucky's car.

Bucky took her hands off his chest and held them in his. "I want you to come," he told her for the hundredth time. He began to pull her out with him, making the blanket slip from her shoulders. He quickly stooped to catch it and tucked it around her again. "Please?" he tried, putting on his most charming smile.

Lucille sighed and smiled back. "No. I won't be any fun tonight, believe me. I'm going to make some hot tea and sit in bed with a book and an enormous pile of tissues." She turned to go back inside, but Bucky held onto her hands. "James," she said warningly. Bucky pulled her forward until his lips touched her forehead. After a long moment, he pulled away.

"Fine. I'll go and have a swell time at the Pavilion with Steve. And your sister. And her friend. And not you."

"Too right you will." Lucille gave Bucky's hands a final squeeze before pulling hers out of his grasp. He sighed and turned, but he only got a few steps away before she called to him again. "And afterward, Sergeant Barnes, you'll come right back here and tell me about all the newest Stark invention and everything else you saw. That's an order."

Bucky turned around smartly and whipped his hand up in a salute. "Yes, ma'am!" He grinned.

"Bucky, c'mon!" Connie called from the car. "We're going to miss everything!"

Lucille smiled and waved as the car drove away down the street before retreating inside and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Muffling a cough into a tissue, Lucille closed her book and set it on the nightstand next to her bed. The remains of her tea had long since cooled. She blew her nose and dropped the used tissue into the waste basket she had brought in from the bathroom. Getting sick in the middle of May was the silliest thing she had ever heard of, but here she was. A small commotion coming from downstairs broke her out of her stuffy-headed thoughts. Lucille heard two sets of footsteps bound up the stairs and patter down the hall to Connie's room, where the thud of a door blocked any further noise from that end of the hall. After a moment, another slower set of footsteps made their way up the stairs. This set came down the hall toward her room and paused outside her door. There was a soft knock, and Lucille couldn't contain her smile. "Come in, James." The door opened and Bucky walked in, looking beat, but happy.

"I think your sister is too old to need a babysitter, Luci," Bucky grumbled good-naturedly. "She's only two years younger than you."

Lucille patted the bed next to her and sat up to make room for him. "I'm sorry. But she really wanted to go and my parents didn't want her and Bonnie to go by themselves."

Bucky took a seat next to her and slumped back against the pillows, tucking one hand behind his head while the other found hers and interlaced their fingers. "It wouldn't have been so exhausting running around after them if Steve hadn't skipped out to try to enlist again."

Lucille shook her head. "What is this? Five? Six times now?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't even know anymore. It's – he's got this idea in his head that the only way he can help is by going over and getting shot at. He doesn't see it that way, of course. But it's nuts, how bad he wants to join up."

"They won't take him, James," Lucille tried to reassure him. "He's already been turned away five times. Steve just doesn't know when to give up, but he'll have to sooner or later."

"Yeah, because he'll be thrown in the big house for lying on five enlistment forms," Bucky muttered darkly. Lucille bit her lip, unsure of what to say next. Bucky sighed and brought her hand to his lips. After a quick kiss to the back of her hand, he sighed again. "I'm sorry, Luci. I didn't mean to come here and complain. That knucklehead just has me worried."

"Steve is my friend too, James. He makes everyone worry about him. But he'll be okay. We all will."

**-0-**

**Really short, I know. ****Short, but sweet (I hope). ****I did warn you most chapters wouldn't be very long. This was the second chapter I wrote for this story... I did most chapters completely out of order. Anyway, here's part 2 of the double update day! Let me know what you're thinking after this! Love.**


	8. Of costumes and comfort

_August 6, 1943 – October 28, 1943_

Lucille paced the pavement under the stairs to Steve's apartment. The rushed phone call she had gotten only an hour ago had set her nerves jittering. She let out an explosive sigh and climbed the stairs. Before her worry got the better of her, Lucille knocked on the door of Steve's apartment. She stood there for a full two minutes and was beginning to think someone was having her on when she heard the lock slide back and the door opened a crack.

"Luci?"

"Steve, what's going on? Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you for – for months!" Lucille finally paused to take a breath, pulling out a ragged newspaper page from her pocket, shoving it toward the crack in the doorway. "Is this you? Is this really you? What is going on?" The door opened wider and a hand came out, pushing down her hand and the newspaper clipping she held. Lucille looked down at the hand covering hers. It was familiar, but wrong at the same time. Then her gaze followed the incredibly well-muscled arm to its owner's face.

Lucille's jaw dropped.

"Look, Luci, I know it's nuts! Please don't leave! I promise, I'll tell you everything, no baloney." As her initial shock subsided, Lucille noticed that Steve was crouching, holding his hands up apologetically, his expression pleading for her to stay. Even his crouched position, he was taller than her. The Steve she knew was her height, five foot four. This Steve was easily at least six feet tall, probably more.

"Steven Rogers. Start talking."

* * *

"Luci, I look like an idiot," Steve hissed.

"A snazzy idiot," Lucille whispered back, taping his lines to the inside of his shield. She looked up to see Steve glaring at her. "You don't have a choice, Steve. It's either this, or being stuck in a lab. And quite frankly, I rather like getting to see you, even if it is on stage in tights." Steve made a face, but pulled his mask down anyway. Lucille handed him his shield and waved as a stage hand whisked him away to the curtains at center stage.

* * *

Lucille followed Steve's appearances in New York and the surrounding states as much as she could. Mostly, she sat in the back of the theater, humming along to a song she had long since memorized as the shows became more and more extravagant. Then she would wait until the theater emptied and go backstage to find Steve. Usually, they would get the night to themselves and go out for pizza, staying up late despite the fact that Steve would have to leave early in the morning to get to his next show.

"Captain America lifts motorcycles now, huh?" Lucille popped a pepperoni into her mouth, lounging on the floor against Steve's sofa. New York shows were the best, because it meant they didn't have to stay at a hotel with the rest of the show's crew; they could stay at Steve's apartment. Steve laughed, handing her a glass of water before joining her on the floor, taking a slice of pizza for himself. "And how many times has Ol' Adolf gotten slugged now?"

Steve shrugged. "At least 200, it feels like," he said around a mouthful. He swallowed and the cleared his throat, almost nervously. "Heard from Bucky lately?"

Lucille glanced at him, hearing an odd tone to his question. "I got a letter about three weeks ago. James said they had found something – couldn't tell me what, of course – and his unit is going to be 'finally doing something', as he put it. I hate not knowing what's going on," Lucille huffed, staring moodily at her glass of water before looking curiously at Steve. "I thought I told you about that letter when you phoned from Chicago."

Steve avoided meeting her eyes, focusing instead on his pizza crust. "Oh, right, I guess you did."

"Steve, I know you. What's going on?"

"I'm going over there."

Lucille set down her plate and turned toward her friend. "Over where, exactly?" she asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.

"Wherever Colonel Phillips is, I guess. They're not telling me much, just that they need Captain America to help the morale." He dropped the pizza crust back in the box.

"How many shows?"

Steve shrugged. "No idea. I guess we'll have to see how it goes." He finally looked at her, and Lucille could imagine what her face looked like, because Steve reached over and took her hand. "Luci, it's going to be fine. They've assured me that there's absolutely no risk. Do you really think Senator Brandt would send me over there if there was?"

* * *

Dear Steve,

I hope all is well over there… wherever you are. I hope this letter gets to you, now that I think about it. I'll have to address it to Captain America on the envelope. I have this feeling that you're probably not as popular as the girls are. Brandt could have just sent them and morale would have been taken care of in less than a minute.

I'll be honest with you, Steve. I have an ulterior motive for writing to you. I know that it's very likely you're not with James, and I'm trying not to worry, but I haven't heard from him in a while, longer than usual. Do you have any news? Have you heard what the 107th might be up to? Maybe, being Captain America, you could get some answers for us? I'm sorry, Steve, I just hate not knowing. Sometimes being stuck here with nothing to do but wait is incredibly difficult. I'm starting to see why you tried to enlist so many times.

Please let me know… either way… if you have any news of James. And keep yourself safe, too. Now that all the stupid is over there with the two of you, I'm doubly worried.

See you soon (with any luck),

Luci

**-0-**

**Hello all, new chapter here! I hope you liked it, even with the lack of Bucky. Can I say I really like Luci and Steve's friendship? Because I really do. And I hope you like it too! Reviewers, I shall be responding shortly :) Love.**

**[Guest: Bucky is the best, let's get real. He would totally be the guy to have the cutest, most heartwarming proposal idea. As for their happily-ever-after... well, I guess you'll just have to stay tuned ;) Thank you so much for your amazing review!**

**Echo97: I'm so happy to hear you like this story! Welcome to our little family! I hope this chapter was to your liking as well! Thanks for your wonderful review!]**


	9. Of cliffs and condolences

_February 12, 1944_

Lucille clutched the edge of the countertop with both hands. The letter and its envelope, wrinkled from both half a world of travel and her own trembling hands, lay on the floor behind her. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, Lucille sucked in a ragged breath. And then another. She stared at the fading yellow-and-white striped wallpaper in front of her without really seeing it. She couldn't think, and at the same time was thinking too much at once.

James. Her James.

Lucille hadn't gotten a letter in a while. But it didn't worry her. War was war, after all. James just wasn't able to write at the moment, too busy fighting the good fight. She had kept herself from expecting letters from him, which made the ones she got all the more precious.

Lucille was only half-aware of her mother slowly entering the kitchen, and she flinched when her mother put an arm around her shaking shoulders. "I am so sorry, sweetheart," her mother said softly. She didn't say anything else, and Lucille was grateful. She wasn't sure she would be able to handle any false promises that everything would be okay. How could anything be okay?

James was gone.

Lucille gently squeezed her mother's hand and stepped out of her embrace. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Lucille managed to fake a shaky smile for her mother. "I'll be okay," she lied. "I'm going to go for a walk." She bent to pick up Colonel Phillips's letter and the envelope and took them with her.

* * *

Headquarters Second Battalion

107th Infantry Regiment

U.S. Army

03 January 1943

SGT. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

ASN 32557241

107th Infantry Regiment

U.S. Army

Ms. Lucille Rose Hollis,

632 Sterling Place,

Brooklyn,

New York

Dear Ms. Hollis,

As ranking officer in charge of your fiancé's unit, I wish to express not only my sorrow and sympathy but that of the rest of the men of the 107th Infantry for your great loss.

Sergeant Barnes was killed in action during a mission as part of an elite group of soldiers lead by Captain America. Regrettably, the exact details concerning the mission and subsequently Sergeant Barnes's death cannot be released, even to you. However, I hope you can take at least a little comfort in knowing that Sergeant Barnes admirably performed every duty asked of him to the utmost of his abilities, and that his sacrifice will greatly help advance our efforts to end this war.

Unfortunately, we do not have the resources to have Sergeant Barnes sent home to be laid to rest. He will be buried here with honors alongside his comrades who have also fallen in the line of duty to their country. His bravery and sacrifice will never be forgotten.

Sincerely,

CHESTER A. PHILLIPS,

Colonel, SSR,

Commanding

* * *

Luci,

I plan to get this letter in with Colonel Phillips's before it leaves for the States. I wish you didn't have to find out about Bucky this way. Hell, I wish that it had never happened in the first place.

Luci, he loved you. You have to know that. Everything Bucky's done, he's done it for you, so you can be safe. Some days he wouldn't stop talking about you – most days, actually. I think the boys were close to stealing a plane so they could bring you to him just to get him to shut up.

I know Colonel Phillips won't tell you anything, so I will. You deserve to know. Bucky was with me and the rest of the 'Howling Commandos', as I guess they're calling us now. Our mission is to take down every HYDRA base we can find. They're the Nazi science division and up to absolutely no good. That day, we were going to board a train that was carrying one of HYDRA's prominent scientists. Phillips wanted him so we could get information on HYDRA. Bucky and I went together, but they were ready for an attack. They have weapons that the Army can only dream of, and when the soldier fired, it threw Bucky from the train. I am so sorry, Luci. I tried to save him, but I couldn't reach him in time. We were on the edge of a cliff, and I don't know if we'll ever find him.

We'll be leaving soon for the next mission, and hopefully after that it will be all over and then you and I can find a way for Bucky to be remembered forever. Stay strong, Luci.

Love,

Steve

**-0-**

**So sorry this one's a few days late - I finally succumbed to whatever flu-y thing has been going around and have spent the majority of the last 3 days sleeping. **

**Fun fact: this was the very first chapter I wrote for this story. We knew it was coming, right? Nobody wants to punch me? Good. But it still sucks :( The good thing is that I can definitively say that there will be 15 chapters to this story, so we know there's more to come. I'd like to know what you guys are predicting for our characters' futures! Drop a review and let me know! Chapter 8 reviewers, I'll be replying shortly :) Love. (PS, what do you guys think of the new chapter titles? I got bored at work one day..) (PPS, sorry if Phillips's letter looks odd; FF doesn't have the kind of formatting I would have liked)**

**[Guest.1: All things considered, I'd say she's handling it pretty well, poor thing. Sometimes, I hate what I put characters through.. but that's what makes for good story telling, right? I hope you liked this chapter as well! Thanks so much for your sweet review!**

**Guest.2: I know there's a legitimate Marvel story line for it, but I actually don't ship Bucky/Nat, so that won't come into play with this story at all. I really appreciate you taking the time to look at our characters' potential futures though! Thanks for your great review!]**


	10. Of learning and longing

_January 19, 1968_

"All right! Time to settle down, everyone! Nathan, in your seat, please. You, too, David." The students of Ms. Hollis's ninth grade class quickly quieted down and focused on the chalkboard at the front of the room. Lucille waited until the last of the chatter died. "Who can remind us what we began yesterday?" A few eager hands flew into the air. "Gwen?"

A petite, curly-haired blonde girl sat up a little straighter in her seat. "We started talking about how the Allies began taking down HYDRA in World War Two," she answered.

Lucille nodded. "Thank you, Gwen. Can someone else tell us on whom in particular we were focusing? Jack?"

"The Howling Commandos?"

"Very good. Thank you, Jack. Yes, the Howling Commandos, led by...?"

A chorus of voices supplied, "Captain America!"

Lucille smiled. "Indeed. Okay, notebooks open, pencils ready, and let's take some notes. In November of 1943, Captain America had been sent overseas to the 107th Infantry Regiment to boost morale. We talked a little bit about this yesterday. What happened? Katie?"

Katie read aloud from her notes, "He was supposed to just do his show like he'd been doing here, but then he found out that a lot of soldiers were being held prisoner by HYDRA, and he decided to go rescue them without anyone else."

"Excellent, Katie. So yesterday we left Captain America as he was in the middle of his rescue mission. Yes, Maggie?"

"Wouldn't it have been smarter to wait for backup?" Maggie asked. "I mean, I know he was really strong and all, but he was still only one guy."

"He was a _super soldier_, dummy! He didn't need anyone's help," a boy on the other side of the room interjected.

"Harry, this is your one warning; we do not call each other names in this class." Lucille held her stern gaze for another moment before turning back to Maggie. "You bring up a good point, Maggie. His plan does seem a little poorly thought out. But let's remember why he went alone. Betsy?

"Because they didn't want to risk the rest of the soldiers in a mission that they thought wouldn't work at all. And didn't you say that he was really going because his best friend had been captured?"

Lucille pressed her lips together and nodded. "That was his original motivation, yes," she said after a short pause. "But, being the man that he was, he liberated all 400 prisoners from the HYDRA base, bringing back not only the men, but various HYDRA weapons and vehicles, and, more importantly, the locations of the other HYDRA bases in Europe. That one mission went a long way to helping the Allies gain victory over the Axis powers." Lucille let the students have a minute to jot down their notes. "Any other questions so far? No? Then we'll continue."

Lucille went back to her desk and picked up six photographs. "Of the men he rescued, six would become Captain America's Howling Commandos." She placed them one by one on the ledge of the board next to the picture of Captain America that already rested there. "James Buchanan Barnes... Timothy Dugan... Gabe Jones... Jim Morita... James Montgomery Falsworth... and Jacques Dernier." Her gaze lingered for a moment on Bucky's photo, and then she turned back to the class. "These seven men were among the finest the Allies had to offer. Together, they managed to take down all known HYDRA bases, ensuring the later Allied victory." She paused once again to let her students catch up on their notes. "Yes, Nathan?"

"Are these guys still alive?" Nathan asked, eyes wide and curious.

Lucille swallowed. "As far as my information goes, all but Captain America and James Barnes are still living."

"How did they die?"

The classroom was silent as the students waited for her reply. Lucille fought against the lump in her throat and stole another glance at the portraits of Steve and Bucky. "Captain America went down with a HYDRA aircraft that was carrying bombs to targets all over the United States. He was able to take control, but because of the bombs, his only course of action was to... to crash it into the arctic. Neither he nor the plane has ever been found.

"As for James Barnes... He was lost during one of the final Commando missions to dismantle HYDRA. Their objective was to capture HYDRA's lead scientist, one Arnim Zola, from a train. Captain America, James Barnes, and Gabe Jones carried out this mission. After gaining access to the train, Jones was sent to take control of the engine car while the Captain and Barnes looked for Zola. HYDRA had taken precautions, however, and had a handful of soldiers with their advanced weaponry ready for such an attack. Captain America and Barnes took them on..." Lucille took a deep breath and carefully kept her expression neutral. "Barnes fell from the train, which was riding on tracks on the side of a mountain. H-his body was never recovered and officially labeled 'Killed In Action' a week later."

The class was silent except for a few pencils scratching on paper. Then Nathan wondered, "How do you know all this?"

Lucille gave him a small smile. "It helps to be friends with one of the top brass from the S.S.R."

"Cool!"

The end-of-day bell sounded through the halls. "No homework tonight, ladies and gentlemen. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," Lucille called over the bustle of students packing up. She waited until the classroom had emptied before going over to the chalkboard. She picked up Bucky's photo, taking in every detail of his face, imagining his infectious smile in place of the solemn, military line of his lips.

She had thought becoming a teacher and teaching her students about Bucky and Steve would make the holes they left hurt less. Almost ten years in, and she found it wasn't working. Talking was supposed to help. There was an entire, expensive field dedicated to that premise. But even though she had shared their story with her students dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, she still got the lump in her throat, her heart still constricted painfully in her chest, and the holes in her soul still never healed.

**-0-**

**Here we are, about twenty years on and seeing how Luci is dealing with everything. What do you think? I don't have a whole lot to say this time (I do realize that the first chapter said there wouldn't be many A/N's, and that plan went and swirled nicely down the drain. Whoops!), so I'll leave it here and reply to you all from last time. Love.**

**[Guest: I'm feeling much better, thanks! Losing Bucky never gets any easier, unfortunately. Thank you for your spectacular review!]**


	11. Of reunions and remembering

_June 15, 2011_

A knock on the door of her apartment made Lucille look up from the spread of papers on the table in front of her. Back stiff from having been bent over for so long, she slowly straightened up and went to the door to check the peephole.

She was in good shape for her eighty-eight years, but the sight of Steve standing in the hall outside her door nearly gave her a heart attack.

Wrenching the door open, Lucille took a few moments to stare at her friend. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit. He looked exactly the same as when she last saw him in one of the films that followed Captain America and his Howling Commandos. "Steve?" she whispered, feeling tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"Hey, Luci," Steve said softly, keeping his distance to let her adjust. Lucille had had enough distance for the past 67 years, however, and she grabbed his hand to pull him closer, wrapping her arms around his solid torso. Time seemed to stop while Steve held her as she cried. When she finally stopped, she pulled back, wiping at the last of the tears. She could only imagine what Steve saw: a little gray-haired old lady with reddened, wet cheeks and wrinkles everywhere. She sniffed and pulled him inside her apartment, taking a seat with him on her sofa, all the while refusing to let go of his hand.

"How…?" she breathed, still marvelling over the fact that he didn't look a day over 25.

Steve sighed, running his free hand through his blond hair. "Did – did anyone ever tell you what happened?"

"Peggy," Lucille nodded, squeezing his hand. "She found me and told me everything, how you went down in the ice. Stark searched for months, but… never found anything," she said, her voice cracking. She looked down at their hands, his flawless and smooth with youth and hers creased and dotted with age spots. When she looked back up, Steve was nodding.

"Erskine's formula did it. Kept me alive under the ice. The benefits of endless cellular regeneration," he explained with a wry smile. "SHIELD found me and hauled me out. They've been keeping me under the radar for a few weeks, but I convinced them to let me out when I found out you were still… around, and, well, here we are."

"Nothing can stop the indomitable Captain America," Lucille said with a smile that Steve returned fully.

"So, Luci, what have you been up to while I've been sleeping," he asked casually, as if he had just been taking a nap rather than buried under tons of ice. It made her chuckle, which only brightened Steve's smile.

"Well, after… everything… I became a teacher. History," she told him, pointing to her teaching degree that was hanging up on the wall among several black-and-white photos. "My World War Two unit was the most popular. I taught for just about fifty years, if you can believe it. After I retired, well, I wasn't sure what to do. I visited the Smithsonian many times when I figured it out. They had a tiny exhibit on Captain America, but it didn't do you any justice." Lucille sighed, shaking her head at the memory of the cramped corner of the National Museum of American History that held a few pictures and some explanatory plaques. "I contacted them and told them an idea I had for an expanded exhibit for Captain America and his Howling Commandos. They were kind enough to meet with me, and when I explained what I had in mind and that I could get more than just pictures to display, they were very willing to expand. I got a hold of Peggy and she was completely on board with the project. She gave me everything I asked for – the designs for your suit and the others' clothes and gear so we could make replicas, all the old documentary films, maps following the path of your missions. I even got your stage shield, since the real one was lost with you. And I've been the head curator ever since." Lucille paused, grinning at the awestruck look on Steve's face. "I suppose you haven't had a chance to go yet?"

* * *

Lucille watched Steve readjust the Giants baseball cap she had gotten him as they descended the elevator to the lower level. "We had to move the exhibit to the National Air and Space Museum because the American History building didn't have the room at the time," she explained, looping her arm through his as he helped her off the escalator. She steered him to the right and they entered the exhibit. "It bothers some of the Air and Space purists," she continued, "but it would be a hassle to move it all, so we're keeping it here."

Lucille let Steve set the pace as they wound their way through the exhibit. He paused at each display, listening to the narration and reading every word. "Wow, was I really that small?" he asked her quietly when they stopped to watch the pre- and post-serum comparison.

Lucille laughed. "You were smaller than me, Steve. I never knew how you didn't blow away in a stiff breeze." Steve chuckled, shaking his head, and they moved on.

They stopped again in front of the display of mannequins that were wearing the different outfits of the Howling Commandos. "We found an incredibly talented painter that did all the murals here," she told Steve, her gaze coming to rest on the portrait of Bucky.

"This is amazing, Luci. It looks like the real thing," he added, taking a step closer to examine his old uniform.

"We thought the replica looked a little too nice, so we threw some dirt on it to make it a bit more authentic," she agreed with a smile. Steve laughed. "There's a couple more things I think you should see," Lucille told him. "We'll watch the film first; I need to get off my feet for a few minutes." Steve nodded, taking her hand, and followed her to the next area. It was a separate room with two open doorways on either side. Inside, it looked like a miniature movie theater, the screen taking up the front wall with several tiered rows of carpeted benches rising to the back wall. Lucille pushed a button on the wall next to the doorway and joined Steve on a bench as the projector in the box behind them flickered to life and lit up the screen. Steve glanced at Lucille, whose attention was on the screen in front of her, wondering why she was silent now, when at every other display she'd had some tidbit of information to share. Lucille noticed him looking and gestured to the screen, wanting him to pay attention.

She heard his small gasp when Peggy appeared on the screen and began answering an interviewer's question about Project Rebirth. Steve wrapped an arm around Lucille's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, and she understood the enormous amount of gratitude that he couldn't put into words. The film finished twenty minutes later, and Steve wiped his cheeks as he helped Lucille down the steps and out of the mini-theater.

"Luci," Steve began, making her pause on the way to the final display she wanted him to see. "I can't thank you enough for that – for all of this. It's – well, it's just…"

"I know, Steve," Lucille said, saving him from the impossible task of putting how he felt into words. "I wanted to make something that you could be proud of. Never in my wildest dreams did I think you'd actually see it, but I'm so glad you have." She hooked her arm around his and began walking again. "We have one more stop before we go."

She led him across the large exhibit floor to a set up of three etched glass panels. Steve let out a sigh when he saw the picture of Bucky.

"I found a way," Lucille said so quietly that Steve almost didn't hear her. "I found a way to make sure James was remembered forever, like you talked about."

"It's perfect, Luci."

**-0-**

**Steve's back! And now we know why the Cap Museum (as I like to call it) is so banging cool. And why it's technically in the wrong building; for some reason, I felt compelled to address the point made in the 'goofs' section of the CATWS IMDb page. I hope you all are still liking what's going on. Truly, thank you so much to every one who is following, favoriting, and especially reviewing! Love.**

**[Guest: As much as I love the stories that have Bucky falling for an OC from the present (of which I'm reading several great ones) or the ones where the best girl friend from the 40s also gets the super-soldier treatment, I wanted to tackle the more 'natural' story, for a lack of a better way to describe it. Peggy's reintroduction in CATWS stabbed me in the feels and I've never really gotten over it... Thank you so much for your fantastic review!]**


	12. Of battles and brainwashing

_September 25, 2013_

Five minutes ago, she'd been listening to Jeopardy questions on '-stan Nations' while she cleaned some dishes from last night's dinner. Then the news anthem blared and she had turned to see **BREAKING NEWS **scrawling across the screen before it cut to a harried-looking news anchor shuffling through her stack of papers. The woman looked up at the camera and began reporting as Lucille used her cane to get closer to the living room.

"... right over the Potomac River. Please be warned: some of the footage we are about to show may not be suitable for some audiences."

The program cut from the image of the reporter to a stunning video of what looked to be three enormous aircraft carrier ships. In the air. Firing immense weapons at each other. Lucille clutched the back of her armchair, staring wide-eyed at the images on the screen, not sure if this was a horrible joke of sorts or if she would really be able to go out onto her balcony and see an air battle only a few miles away. She was tempted, but she couldn't tear herself away from the television just yet as the video shakily zoomed in to the closest of the three carriers, the image momentarily obscured by a thick plume of smoke.

When the image cleared, Lucille could see tiny figures tumbling around on the deck, just barely noticeable in the chaos. Her grip tightened on the back of the chair. The carrier being shown lurched forward suddenly, and Lucille caught a glimpse of a giant, red shape in the middle of the deck. She squinted at the television. She knew she had seen that emblem before. It looked a little more modern now, but there was no mistaking the logo for SHIELD. The geometric eagle was marred by long burn marks slashed haphazardly across the red paint. Lucille fervently hoped Steve was no where aboard any of the flying aircrafts, though she knew it would likely be too much to ask for him to not be in the area at all. If she knew anything at all about her best friend, it was that he could always be counted on to do the right thing and help fight the bullies, whoever they may be.

It appeared they were SHIELD now.

Eyes still riveted to the television, Lucille patted her pockets, searching for her cell phone. Her junior curators had insisted she get one since she rarely could be found near the landline phone on her desk at the exhibit. She pulled the small black flip phone from her jacket pocket and finally looked away from the horrifying images on the TV long enough to find Steve's mobile number. Lucille brought the phone up to her ear with a trembling hand, waiting out the rings anxiously.

"You've, uh, reached Steve; leave a message."

The tone sounded and Lucille sucked in a breath before choking out, "Steven G. Rogers, you had best contact me by any means available as soon as whatever the hell is going on has been resolved. Please be safe." She pressed end call button and flipped the phone shut, tucking it securely back into her pocket. Maneuvering around the armchair, Lucille slowly lowered herself to the edge of the seat, gripping her cane tightly in front of her. The news continued to bring in rapid updates...

... a carrier had finally given out and crashed into the Potomac, cracking in half...

... a leak in SHIELD's servers had dumped all the organization's top secrets and personnel files online...

... the word 'HYDRA' started cropping up in the reports; Lucille's heart stopped for an agonizing moment when she recognized the name...

... and, as she knew would happen, Captain America had been spotted. On board the carrier that was still managing to stay in the air despite being riddled with holes.

Lucille pressed her fist tightly against her mouth. She feared that if she didn't physically keep her mouth shut, she would scream. A few sobs still escaped.

* * *

The face of Natasha Romanoff dominated the screen. A committee of disbelieving men was interrogating her about the events of three days ago and her affiliations with the KGB. Lucille had heard of Natasha before in one of those rare times Steve had been upset and gone on a rant about his new teammates. She probably wasn't supposed to know what she knew about the Avengers, as the media had taken to calling them after the alien invasion. But she was hardly a security risk.

"You're not going to put me in prison," Natasha was saying with the assured confidence of a woman who knew she was in complete control of the situation. "You're not going to put any of us in a prison. You know why?"

The man who seemed to have been elected spokesman of his group drawled, "Do enlighten us."

"Because you need us," Natasha said simply. "Yes, the -"

There was a knock at the door.

Gripping the arms of the chair, Lucille pushed herself to standing and then shuffled over to the door. She squinted through the peephole and saw a tired-looking but very much alive Steve on the other side. Quickly, she unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing for Steve to come in before either even said a word.

As Steve shut the door quietly behind him, Lucille used the moment to take in the angry pink line that extended from the corner of his mouth, the faded purple and yellow splotches around his eye and across his cheekbones. She motioned for him to sit on the couch. Lucille didn't miss the limp, or the way his hand pressed against his stomach as he sat down. Sitting down next to Steve, Lucille's brow knitted in concern. "Steve… what on earth happened?"

He didn't answer right away. And he wouldn't look at her.

"Steve?"

Her friend sighed, running his hands over his face. "Luci, I…" His features twisted painfully as he struggled to say something. Steve was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles were paper white. "Hell, Luci," he tried again, his voice cracking. "There's no easy way to tell you this, so…"

Lucille felt her hands involuntarily tighten on the handle of her cane. She couldn't remember ever seeing Steve so torn up over something. It worried her. She was used to worrying about Steve, but this was different. Horribly different.

"...Bucky's alive."

Lucille wanted to ask him what he meant, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Steve seemed to understand her silence. He finally looked at her. "We don't know exactly what happened to him. But we have a pretty good guess. Nat said she could get her hands on more information for us. I'll tell you everything I know…. if you want."

Lucille was focusing very hard on the patterned carpet between her shoes. It was turning blurry. "Tell me." Her voice sounded surprisingly strong, considering she felt as if she was about to shatter into a billion tiny pieces.

She heard Steve sniff before he began to explain what he had been able to piece together. "HYDRA's had him, ever since the train. Whatever they did to him when they captured his unit helped him survive the fall. I think they were trying to replicate Erskine's formula… and I guess it worked."

"So James is a super soldier, like you," Lucille interrupted, needing every detail she could get out of Steve. She felt so far removed from the conversation, knew her mind was trying to protect itself by refusing to feel anything as Steve talked.

"...Yes," he answered after a moment's hesitation. "He's strong and fast, but… Luci, he's not the same Bucky, and it's not just the metal arm."

Silence descended.

"Metal. Arm." Lucille squeezed her eyes shut. "Explain."

"Luci," Steve said carefully, "if this is too much, we can stop. There's no reason to put all of this on you at once."

"Explain," she repeated quietly, reaching over to take his hand tightly in hers.

Steve covered her hand so he was holding it in both of his. "His left arm is metal. The whole thing. Some sort of mechanical prosthetic, like one of Stark's suits, I guess. It's made out of something a lot like my shield." Steve paused, watching her carefully. She was aware, in some distant part of her mind, that he was probably worried that the shock would set in soon and be too much stress for her 89-year-old heart to handle.

Lucille took a deep breath. "You said he was different, regardless of this arm. Why?"

Steve looked down for a moment, and Lucille knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say, even less so than what he had already shared with her. "He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know who _he_ is. Whatever HYDRA did to him, Luci, it erased his memories. They made him into an assassin that would blindly follow their orders." Steve was quick to squeeze her hand as she swallowed back a sob that had escaped her control.

"Where…" Lucille exhaled shakily and tried again. "...Do you know where he is?"

Steve shook his head. "But I'm going to look until I find him. I gotta help him… gotta get him back." Now it was Lucille's turn to squeeze Steve's hand in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

"We will, Steve. He's our James. We'll bring him home."

**-0-**

**Hi... this was a hard chapter to write, so I hope it turned out okay. Take a sec and let me know what you thought? Since it's late and I want to go to bed, I'm going to leave it at that and finish replying to reviews from last time. Love.**

**[Guest: I'm so happy to hear that you liked Luci taking charge of the Cap Museum! That's probably one of my favorite parts of this story, so I'm glad someone else likes it too! Well now she knows Bucky's out there, and we'll have to wait to find out if she'll get to see him... Thank you so much for your always fabulous reviews!**

**BadWolf89: You are not alone with the hurting feels - I'm feeling it too, and I'm the one that knows what's going to happen! Thanks so much for the terrific review!]**


	13. Of sorry's and smiles

_March 9, 2014_

"Ms. Hollis?"

Lucille looked up from a stack of papers detailing a new display for the Captain America exhibit. "Charlie? What is it?"

"There's a man asking to talk to the person in charge of the exhibit," the young man said, wringing his hands nervously. "Demanding, actually."

Lucille slid her bifocals off her nose and rubbed her eyes. "If it's another Air and Space fanatic, Charlie, you can tell him the exhibit will not be moving, so _he_ should just move along."

"I don't think it's that, Ms. Hollis."

Lucille sighed, settled her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, and grabbed her cane from where it hung on the back of her chair, using it to leverage herself to standing. She took a few steps forward, positioning herself in front of her desk and sighed again. "Send him in, Charlie." Her junior curator nodded and rushed out, returning moments later with a man in an old baseball cap and a dark grey coat over a blue flannel shirt. The man was keeping his head bowed, and all she could see was a scruffy chin and longer hair poking out from under his hat, the style that seemed to be popular among young men these days. Charlie backed out of the office, leaving the door open just a crack. "What can I do for you?" she asked him, leaning forward slightly on her cane.

"You're in charge of this place?" he asked gruffly, keeping his head down.

Lucille raised an eyebrow. A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. "I am. However, if you have any questions about the information in our exhibit, I can assure you the men and women wearing blue vests will be able to answer them. They are stationed throughout the exhibit for your conven-"

"Who wrote the display on Bucky Barnes?" he demanded, still resolutely keeping his face hidden.

"I did," she told him sharply, gripping her cane harder than necessary. "Do you have a problem with it?"

It was a moment before he spoke again. "How did you know?" he said, his voice oddly quiet now.

Lucille adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose, trying to study what she could see of the man. A thought was niggling at the back of her mind, but years of practice had made her very good at ignoring that particular hope. "Know what?"

"That he was in an art class with Steve Rogers when they heard the U.S. was joining the war. That they trained at Goldie's before going to a recruiting center to enlist. How did you know?"

Lucille brought a trembling hand to her mouth, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth even as tears welled up and threatened to spill over. "I never wrote the name of the gym." The man stiffened. "And I know because I was there," she finally answered, lowering her hand back to the top of her cane. The man's head jerked up, disbelief draining his face of color. "Hello, James." He blinked rapidly several times, and Lucille began to worry he might be going into shock.

"Luci?" Bucky whispered hoarsely. He took a half a step towards her, and then stopped, and then closed the distance between them in a rush, coming to a halt just a foot away. Slowly, he raised his right hand, but didn't touch her, letting it hover just beside her cheek. The other hand, the one she knew was made of metal, stayed shoved inside his jacket pocket. His brow furrowed. "You don't seem very surprised to see me," he said, his voice a flurry of different emotions.

"To see you here? I am, James, though I'm more happy than surprised. But to see you alive?" Lucille shook her head. "Steve told me… everything." Bucky began to pull his hand away, but Lucille caught it with her own. "I'm so sorry, James."

Bucky stared at her. "Why… why are you apologizing?"

Lucille smiled sadly. "You went through unspeakable horrors, James. Things no person should ever have to experience, for seventy years. I suppose I'm apologizing… on behalf of the human race."

Bucky let out an incredulous sigh. "If anyone should be apologizing –"

"It shouldn't be you," Lucille cut him off, knowing exactly where that line of thought was going. If she was honest with herself, Lucille had never actually thought she would see him again. But that didn't stop her from imagining what might happen if she did. She had played her first conversation with him in her head hundreds of times, and some variation of an apology from him has always come up. Her inward responses to that had invariably been a rejection of his apology and a counter-apology of her own. "No one can blame you for anything that happened." Bucky laughed humorlessly at that, making Lucille scowl. "It's true."

"You don't know what happened, Luci," Bucky muttered, pulling his hand out of her grasp and turning his back to her.

Lucille shook her head and stiffly walked back to her chair, leaning on her cane heavily. She needed to get off her feet, and the rush of emotions was taking its toll. "You're right," she said softly once she sat down. "I don't know what happened. But I know you, James, and you would have never done any of that of your own free will." Bucky turned around again, sadness dimming the brightness in his blue eyes that she had always used to see there. Lucille held a hand out. "James."

Bucky gave in immediately, striding forward to take her hand, so gently, as if he thought she would break at the slightest touch.

With the aid of her cane and Bucky, Lucille stood up again. Her vision began to blur with unshed tears. "James," she whispered, "I've been waiting a long time to see you again." Letting her cane fall to the floor, Lucille wrapped her arms around Bucky's waist. A small sigh escaped when she felt his arms brush her shoulders as they lightly settled around her. "I'm old, James, not made of tissue paper," she murmured into his chest. "It's been a very long time, so you had best hold me like you mean it!" Her demand elicited a genuine laugh from Bucky and he tightened his arms around her.

**-0-**

**I hope this one turned out okay. In my head, the end credit scene with Bucky flows right into this chapter. Let me know what you thought? Review replies should be in soon :) Thank you! Love.**

**[Guest: I know! Poor Steve has had a rough go of it lately, hasn't he? Hopefully, if there were any tears today, they were tears of joy! I love Luci and Steve as bffs too :) If you (or anyone reading this) is a good artist, I'd love to see a picture of the two of them! Thank you so much for your spectacular review!)**


	14. Of friends and fireworks

_July 4, 2014_

Lucille shook out the match as the last candle flared to life. "James," she called, "would you help me with something?" Behind her, she heard Bucky and someone else enter the kitchen.

"Wow," Sam said, grabbing a few more bottles of beer from the refrigerator. "You are quite the baker, Ms. Hollis."

"For goodness sake, Sam, _please_ call me Luci!" she said with a grin. It had to have been the tenth time she told him that, but she just couldn't get mad at a man like Sam.

"Luci, that looks delicious," Bucky said, moving a finger toward the cake to taste the icing.

Lucille gently slapped his hand away. "You can wait two minutes to taste it. The birthday boy gets the first piece." Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Could you take this out to the coffee table? I'm afraid I can't juggle that and a walker at the same time." Bucky nodded, picking up the cake on its platter and following Lucille out to the living room. Sam came behind them with the beer, plates, and forks. On the couch next to Steve, Natasha made a grab for one of the beers.

"Happy birthday, Steve!" the four of them said in almost-unison as Bucky set the cake on the coffee table.

Steve smiled. "You guys, thank you, you didn't have to do this."

Lucille took the knife off the platter and began to cut the cake into slices for each of them while Natasha handed them out. "Captain America deserves a birthday cake just like everyone else," she told him, handing him the first wedge. "So happy birthday, Steve, and rejoice in the fact that for being ninety-six, you don't look a day over twenty-five." Her grin faltered when she saw the two super-soldiers looking at her sadly. Natasha and Sam exchanged an awkward glance. Lucille sighed, putting her plate down on the coffee table, and fixed Bucky and Steve with a stern look. "Boys, if you've got it in your heads to feel sorry for me because I've gotten grey and wrinkly, then you can stop it right now. This was always the way it was going to be for me."

"You shouldn't have had to grow old alone," Bucky objected, Steve nodding in agreement.

Lucille leaned back in her arm chair. "Life has a funny way of messing up even the best-laid plans. I'm not alone now, and that's what matters."

The fireworks burst into the sky in rapid succession, signaling the finale of the show. Wrapped in a blanket, Lucille tucked herself into Bucky's side under his right arm as they watched from the settee on her balcony. Steve had left a couple hours ago, invited to watch the celebrations with Sharon Carter. Natasha had graciously offered to get Sam home, who, caught up in the festivities, had decided that since Steve couldn't get drunk, he would drink enough for the two of them. Lucille's small apartment seemed even smaller now with nearly everyone gone.

* * *

As the fireworks fizzled to an end, the sky grew dark again and the two could hear the shouts and excited voices of partygoers up and down the block. Several minutes passed without a word between them when Lucille finally spoke up, her smile evident in her voice. "James, I'm beginning to worry about the amount of dust your apartment is no doubt covered in since you spend all your time here."

Bucky shrugged, pulling her closer. "I'll worry about it later. I have a lot of catching up to do here." His left hand found hers, and he brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. The light from the dull yellow street lights below glinted off the thin silver band encircling her ring finger. Bucky traced it with his thumb. "You still wear this, after all these years?"

Lucille nodded. "Of course. I never imagined I would ever see you again, but I never stopped loving you, James." She gently laced her fingers with his metal ones. She had made her point fairly soon after Bucky had come back that it didn't matter to her if he had a normal arm, a metal arm, or no arm at all. She loved him all the same.

"I wouldn't have blamed you, you know, or been upset if you had found someone else," replied Bucky, his eyes still on the engagement ring he had given her all those years ago.

This time, Lucille shook her head. "As ridiculous and hopelessly romantic as it is, there was never anyone else for me but you. I dedicated my life to make sure that you would be remembered for generations to come. Steve, too. There simply wasn't room for another man."

Bucky was silent. Lucille rested her head against his shoulder. The noise from the revelers continued to float down the street.

"About a week after I stopped being HYDRA's tool, my memories started coming back. Not many, at first. And they were fuzzy; I almost didn't think they were real."

Lucille squeezed his hand, waiting for him to go on. Bucky never shared much about his time under HYDRA's thumb or what happened directly after, before he found her at the Captain America exhibit. When he did, it was only with her. As far as Lucille knew, he hadn't even told Steve. She never pressed him to talk about it, knowing he was trying so hard to move on. But sometimes, it seemed to help if he talked. So she listened, never interrupting, just letting him get it off his chest.

"The very first one was of Steve. But the second, and the third, and the fourth were about you. They were just flashes, really, not... full memories. A smile. Part of a conversation. Something like that. But when I saw you, I knew it had to be real because I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time. When I saw your face in my memories, I knew I loved you. I felt it so deeply that it couldn't be made-up. That's what I held onto, and the memories started to come back faster. I remember almost everything now, and I have you to thank for that."

**-0-**

**It's late. I know. I'm sorry. I got the flu again. If I didn't hang around all those little germ magnets we call students so much, I wouldn't have this problem. (I promise I don't actually hate students!) I'm feeling better now, even if I'm hacking up a lung and a half every two minutes. I cannot thank you guys enough for being patient! Review replies have been sent out... and I think that's all I've got to say. Enjoy! Love.**

**[BadWolf89: I think we're _all_ going to need emotional and mental therapy after that last chapter, if the last batch of reviews are anything to go by! I hate giving up any spoilers, so I'm just going use the infuriating phrase: We'll have to wait and see what happens next... :) Thank you so much for your wonderful review!**

**Guest.1: I'm evil, but I'm not THAT evil! Bucky and Luci were always going to see each other again, and Bucky would have at least enough of his memories back by that point to know who she was. You predicted spot on that Bucky would bring up that Luci never married in this chapter! Thank you so much for your brilliant review!**

**Guest.2: I didn't realize that I should have put a 'have some tissues ready' warning on that last chapter! It really makes me feel like I'm actually writing something worthwhile when I get the responses like I did from last time. You and everyone else are seriously the best readers a girl could ask for. Thank you so much for your awesome review!]**


	15. Of death and devotion

**Here it is! I'm so sorry I made you wait so long! We'll (I'll) talk more at the end!**

**This is your 'get-the-tissues-ready' warning, since some readers have asked for an emotion-filled chapter heads-up :)**

_December 13, 2014_

Her apartment felt cooler than usual, Lucille noticed, tugging her fleece jacket around her shoulders more snugly. She pushed the up arrow button on the thermostat several times before taking her walker and shuffling into the kitchen. All day long she'd been looking forward to heating up a plate of the pasta Bucky had made for her a couple days ago. Opening the refrigerator, Lucille reached in to grab the small Tupperware of pasta. The container didn't clear the door before Lucille suddenly decided pasta didn't sound as appetizing as it had earlier in the day. She bit her lip, hesitating to put it back even though it made her stomach turn to think of eating it.

Crackers for dinner it was, then.

Later that night, Lucille was giving the television a sideways look. It was the only way she could watch without setting off a stabbing pain behind her eyes. Nearly all the lights were off in her apartment. If the light sensitivity because of this headache continued through tomorrow, she wasn't sure how she'd make it through the day…

…

"Charlie," she sighed into the receiver of her phone the next morning, her voice scratchy from a long night of little sleep. "I'm not coming in today. Just leave any new exhibit things on my desk and I'll get to them tomorrow. Thanks, Charlie, you have a good day, too." She snapped her phone shut and gingerly leaned back against her pillows. The headache had expanded to her entire head, practically, and the slightest movement sent the world spinning.

Lucille called in the next day, too. And the next.

Then the soreness started.

Lucille shifted in her bed for what felt like the billionth time. The movement sent a quick, pounding pain shooting through her head and she stilled for a moment, waiting for it to pass. Three days later, and she still had the blasted headache. But she was quickly learning how she could and couldn't move to keep from setting it off. Now the real issue was the soreness in every muscle in her body. Muscles she didn't even know she had were making themselves known. Lucille groaned and shifted slowly once again, leveraging herself to a slouched seated position. She carefully leaned over and grabbed the ibuprofen off the night table and popped them into her mouth, reaching for the glass of water and swigging them down. Maybe she'd be lucky enough to get a few hours of sleep now...

…

It wasn't until Lucille had woken up that she realized she had actually been asleep. But now she was sweating. Her clothes and sheets felt considerably damp. Lucille struggled up to sit on the edge of her bed, snagging her glasses off the night table and tiredly pushing them up the bridge of her nose. Arranging her walker in front of her, Lucille stiffly got to her feet and shuffled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Lucille bit out a few words that people would not generally associate with a polite little old lady when the bathroom light hit her eyes and sent a throb through her head. When she was able to open her eyes again, she grimaced at the reflection that stared back at her. The grey curls were all stuck up on one side and thoroughly slick with sweat, especially at the back of her neck. She glanced at the clock and groaned. It felt like the middle of the night, but apparently it was the middle of the afternoon.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Lucille croaked, knowing that the odds favored the visitor having slightly better hearing than the average human. Sure enough, there was a sound of a key scraping in the lock and the door opened. Bucky stepped in, tugged his key out of the sticky lock, and shut the door behind him. Lucille watched as his smile slowly disappeared and his expression became unreadable when he took in her condition. "I was just about to call you," she told him, scooting a little further into the room. Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Well," she amended, leaning heavily on her walker, "I would have, sooner or later."

Bucky closed the distance between them in three quick strides. He brought his right hand up to rest on her forehead briefly. "Jesus, Luci, you're burning up. How long have you been like this?"

"I didn't know I was going to get this sick," Lucille mumbled defensively as he helped her to sit in her armchair. She didn't miss the fact that he practically carried her there when her legs turned to jelly after the first step. "I guess it was three, maybe four days ago," she elaborated as Bucky sighed impatiently. "I was just tired and had a bit of a headache. I spent a lot of it sleeping - or trying to, anyway. The fever's new, must have only started an hour or two ago. James, I promise I would have called as soon as I got myself a doctor's appointment." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. She didn't have to see to know that Bucky was watching her worriedly.

* * *

Lucille became aware of a tickle in her nose, and lifted a hand to stop it, but instead her movement was stilled by a warm hand on top of hers.

"You'll pull the IV out if you use that hand," Bucky told her.

Lucille turned to look at him. He looked only a little better than she felt. His hair was all over, as if he had slept several nights in the chair he currently occupied - and Lucille had a growing suspicion that that was the case. But the darkening circles around his eyes belied the fact that sleep had not come easily to him, if at all. Heeding his warning, Lucille used her other hand to trace the tubing that ran under her nose. "How did I end up here?" she asked, her voice cracking in exhaustion.

"You passed out. Three days ago. The docs say you've got a bad case of pneumonia. Why didn't you do anything about this sooner?"

"I didn't know it was anything serious," she said, frowning at the weakness of her voice. "I just assumed it was a little cold."

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. "Luci, honey, I hate to break it to you, but you're at the point in your life where even a 'little cold' can be real bad news." Lucille stayed quiet, unwilling to admit to the truth of his words. Bucky leaned forward and took her hand in both of his. She watched their hands, the difference between the texture of their skin painfully apparent now. The afternoon sun glinted sharply off Bucky's cybernetic fingers. The play of the light was almost hypnotic, and Lucille felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier. She struggled to keep them open; Bucky noticed, and squeezed her hand gently. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

"_You_ need'a sleep," Lucille mumbled, finally succumbing to the drowsy pull of the medicine she knew was coursing through her. She sighed. "Love you." On the very edge of hearing, she heard Bucky chuckle softly.

"I love you, too, doll."

* * *

Bucky sat in a chair, his knees pressed up against the metal frame of the hospital bed. He knew Steve and Sam were waiting for him out in the hall. He hoped they were prepared to wait for a while.

He stared unseeingly at the empty bed. The sheets had been stripped and no one had replaced them yet. The room was eerily quiet; the beeping and soft humming of the machines silent in the absence of a patient to monitor.

Lucille had woken briefly two more times, but both times she had been just barely conscious, unable to speak. Bucky wasn't even sure she had known he was there. He had talked to her anyway, reassuring her that he wasn't going to leave, telling her how much it meant to him that they had found each other again.

Every day, awake or not, he had told her he would always love her.

He didn't know how long he sat in the empty room. His fists clenched in his lap, the quiet mechanical whirring of his arm the only noise that filled the still air. He expelled a long, silent breath and slowly pushed the chair back from the bed. He pushed himself to his feet, feeling the sympathetic eyes of the two in the hall watching him carefully. He dragged the chair back to the corner and glanced at the bed one last time.

Then Bucky strode out of the room.

**-0-**

**Again, I apologize for making you wait so long! It was a mixture of didn't want to end it/had no muse/been working a lot... But here it is! I hope it was okay. I'm worried that spending so much time away might have been detrimental to this chapter... So please tell me what you think! I'm going to go through and edit it again in a day or two, because I feel like I'm too close to it now to see mistakes, but I didn't want to wait any longer to post now that I finally finished it. Since this is going to replace the note, I'm going to reiterate that this is not necessarily the last chapter, per say. I have some fuzzy ideas for additional chapters that will expand upon parts of their lives that I kind of glossed over. Those just won't come very soon or very often. You all have been the greatest readers a girl could ask for; I am so thankful for all your support!**

**[Guest.1: Aww, hearing that so many of you wonderful readers are reacting so much to this story is really heartwarming! I hope you liked this chapter as well! Thank you so much for your fabulous review!**

**Guest.2: Oh my goodness, thank you so, so much! That means so much to me! I hope you liked this chapter, even though it was the end and probably didn't give them as much time together as you had wanted... Thank you so much for your wonderful review!]**


	16. Of drawing and dancing: deleted scene

_April 3, 1940_

Bucky pulled Steve to their seats on the other side of the room. He dragged his easel over to Steve's to make a barrier between them and the girl. He punched Steve in the shoulder. "What was all that?" he whispered, gesturing between Steve and the general direction of Lucille's spot across the room.

"What are you talking about, Buck?" Steve rubbed his arm and then adjusted the canvas on his easel.

"What am I - You! Her! Talking!"

Steve shrugged. "She seemed -" Bucky waved his hands wildly in front of Steve's face, motioning for Steve to lower his voice. Steve rolled his eyes but complied. "She seemed nice. Besides, she started talking to me first."

Bucky buried his face in his hands and groaned quietly. "The prettiest girl in the world and she takes a liking to _you_!"

Steve ignored his melancholy best friend's unintentional insult and carried on with mixing his paint. "You know, Buck, she was just teasing you. Even _I _could see that."

Bucky slowly removed his head from his hands. "How do you know that?" He whispered, daring to hope.

"What girl is ever interested in me?" Steve smiled.

Normally, Steve's self-deprecating habits annoyed him, because Bucky knew Steve was so much better than he allowed himself to think. But this one time, he let himself get cheered up by it. "Do you… do you think you could do me a huge favor after class?"

**-0-**

**Hello again! It's been a while, and I still get the occasional review that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I'm so happy with the response you all have given this story. This short little scene comes in the middle of the very first chapter. Reviewer VectorPrime155 asked, "Can you write the conversation between Steve and Bucky? I want to know what they said behind the easels." I hope you like it, dear! I am more than happy to take scene requests! I may not get them out very quickly, and they may be quite short like this one, but I promise they'll eventually get posted. Until next time, happy reading! Love.**


End file.

Captain America, Friendship, Romance