Introduction: The End of the Line

~RR~

James Buchanan Barnes, or "Bucky" as he was more commonly known, was not intimidated by much, but today, found himself intimidated by a doorknob. It was made of a familiar brass and crystal, as may now have been considered antique. Sam put a hand on Bucky's shoulder as Bucky inhaled deeply. The air conditioning whirred in the all-too-quiet room, the air thick and heavy as his breath. He'd never been a fan of Southern humidity. Or their hospitality, for that matter. Was he ready to face those on the other side?

"You know, we don't have to do this." Sam's voice rang out behind him, sounding distant.

"Yeah... we do." Bucky countered back somberly. He clutched the doorknob with all the bravery he could muster, and opened the door. Bucky had been through many things, but nothing hurt more than this. The flowers, the pictures in shiny frames, and him, right in the center. Steve was being buried with his last suit, the same suit he had fought beside at an airport, long ago. His plot was already picked out, right next to Peggy's, just the way he wanted it. Bucky laid his dark, metal hand on the cherry wood of the coffin, wishing he could feel the fabrics of the American flag draped over it. He lowered his head, not being able to stand the sight. Sam came next to him quietly, and did the same. There were no words.

A small, wrinkled woman, soon appeared in the room. She held white flowers in her hands, matching the white of her hair. Her eyes were gentle and kind, and familiar to Bucky. She had Steve's kind and burdened eyes.

"I can easily figure out who you two are," she greeted with a fond smile. "My father and the stories he had, you both are practically legendary."

"You must be Angie." Sam offered his hand quickly, while Bucky remained stunned.

"Sarah, the youngest," she gently corrected. "You two take as long as you need."

As she turned to leave, Sam smiled at Bucky, ribbing him a bit with his elbow.

"Wow, our boy got a little busy, huh? Good for him, you know?"

Bucky would've snickered, but didn't have the heart. He simply stared down into the cold emptiness of Steve's face. He was unrecognizable to him now, with his greyish skin and stern expression. Bucky lamented the loss, not only of his dearest friend, but of the last link to his past and a time before he was the 'Winter Soldier'. He had officially outlived everyone from his previous life, from his childhood, and it was a tough pill to swallow. Even with Sam at his side, he couldn't help but feel alone.

"Hey Grandma," said a woman in the far doorway, grabbing at Sarah to call her attention. "The priest is confused on when the '21 Gun Salute' is happening and I didn't know what to tell him."

The young woman caught eyes with Bucky, seemingly surprised at the presence of strangers.

"Oh, I'll talk to Patrick, but do me a favor and offer these two gentleman something to eat. They are your grandfather's oldest friends."

As the older woman scurried off, her granddaughter lingered, eyeing the two men with confusion.

"Aren't you guys a bit young to be my great grandfather's 'oldest' friends?"

"It's a very long story," Sam interceded. "A good story, but a long one. Get your mom to sit you down with it sometime."

"I will," she agreed, still eyeing Sam suspiciously, then held out her hand to him. "I'm Sarah."

"Sam, and this is Bucky," Sam explained, slapping an encouraging hand on Bucky's back.

Bucky offered his hand for her to shake, and he finally looked the woman in the eye. She peered at him with a strange, hesitant gaze before taking his offered hand. Something in her eyes… They were blue eyes, with just a glimmer of green, just like...

"You can let go now, Bucky," Sam chuckled, tapping at Bucky's wrist after his handshake had gone on too long for comfort.

"Your name is Sarah too?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah..." she said, still squinting warily. "It's a family name."

Bucky couldn't help but stare. She was just like him. Not in looks, no, that was more from her mother's side. Those were Peggy's same dark locks, the determined gaze, the unrelenting posture and stiff British composure. But there was a soft spirit about her, a soul that he knew.

"I'm sorry," Bucky finally broke his eyeline. "You just remind me of him a little."

Sam stepped a bit more between them.

"Don't mind him, he's not from around here," he interjected. "And trust me, you don't bring your great-grandfather to my mind in ANY way. Now, was there some mention of food I heard?"

She went off with Sam agreeably, but not without looking over her shoulder back at Bucky just before she went out the door.

"It was nice to meet you, Bucky," she called out just before she left his eyesight.

Bucky sighed again and turned back to Steve's open casket.

"You dog. You couldn't just leave me alone, could you?" He knocked the red wood of his casket twice for luck. "'Til the end of the line, pal."

~RR~

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