Heroes of Leviathan

Chapter 1

The Veteran's Affairs office was usually a little busier around Christmastime. Some of those who celebrated the holidays were experiencing their first holiday season without a loved one or couldn't enjoy the festivities for other reasons. Whatever the reason, there hadn't been a single year of low attendance for Sam Wilson's 'Blue Christmas' group sessions. 

It was just over a week before Christmas, and the last session in the series had just concluded. Sam was walking people out the door and bidding them safe travels as they exited the lobby. White Christmas trees decorated with blue ornaments and blue lights (like they were every year) stood up around them, and a familiar Elvis song played in the background. It was a small, silly pun, but for some strange reason, it made Christmas easier to think about. A simple name for a heavy, complex, intricate burden.

The last people were walking away when Sam saw two tall heads poking out among the rest, walking toward him instead of away. He grinned but made sure to finish his conversation with the person he was with, a woman who was thanking him for the past month. Thankfully, the new guests were kind enough to wait until Sam was done before approaching. 

When the woman walked away, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes (of course, it was them) waved him down. Sam looked down at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "If you're here for group therapy, you're late," he teased. 

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky complained, shaking his head. "Just wanted to stop by since we were in the area."

"Lotta people," Steve remarked, watching the last few trickle out the door. "How was it?"

Sam shrugged. "Good. Holidays are always hard for people in mourning, though. Lots of stuff to talk about."

"Sounds heavy."

"Yeah." He paused for a moment, then motioned to the classroom. "Come on."

Bucky and Steve walked after him, not entirely sure what they were walking into. Inside the classroom, though, small candles were crowded around another tree, decorated similarly to the ones out in the lobby. The chairs were arranged around the tree so everyone could see it. Sam led them over to it and sat on the ground.

Steve knelt down, and only then could he see writing on the sides of the little candles (which had probably been boughten at the dollar store). He picked one up carefully and read it: 'Jacob Dougherty.'

"Memorial candles?"

Sam nodded and looked back at them. Bucky took a knee as well. "I've done this for a few years now. Whenever I get feedback on sessions at the end of the year, people always mention it. Something about candles just works."

"Your name has been on these candles a few times," Bucky told Steve. He looked over, expecting to see Bucky somber, but he was smiling. 

Bucky never enjoyed mourning Steve, but if he had to be wrong about anything, he was glad to be wrong about Steve's death. The memory of Steve's name on the candle brought back the memory of his grief, but it also brought a fresh wave of relief. He was back. Somehow, Steve Rogers defied the natural order of the world yet again. It was worth the occasional heart attack. For the most part. 

Still, there were others they had lost. Steve looked over at Sam. "Got any more?"

He nodded, having figured they would ask. He already had a bag of them in one hand and two sharpies and a lighter in the other. Steve took one of the sharpies, a handful of candles, and passed the rest to Bucky. 

Knowing they would want a moment, Sam looked at the small moat of candles around the base of the tree. He had put a few candles here himself. Just because he led these sessions didn't mean they didn't help him as well. The way he saw it, therapy, even group therapy, wasn't about getting your problems fixed. It was more about understanding them better and figuring out habits that helped. This particular habit (or tradition, rather) helped him as much as it helped others. There were some people, like Bucky, who came to the VA every year around this time just to light a candle or two, even if they weren't attending sessions. Some people from previous years came back to repeat the tradition, or sometimes they would tell Sam that they started doing it at their home instead. It's like he said: something about the candles just worked.