Relapse ★ Bucky Barnes

Stripped Souls and Torn Hearts

Marlena stood in front of the mirror in her, Sam's, and Steve's hotel suite, trying to determine whether or not her outfit could be deemed appropriate for a funeral—for Peggy's funeral. She wore a pair of skinny, black dress pants, along with a dressy black shirt, her favorite pair of black ankle booties, and a black peacoat; the weather in London, although nearing Summer, was just a bit cooler than it was in the states, so Marlena believed the coat to be necessary.

Her issue, however, was that she felt too underdressed. She despised wearing dresses more than anything, so it had taken her about two days to find an outfit she believed would be suitable to wear to Peggy's funeral. Even now, as she stood gazing at her painted red lips and her perfectly wavy brown hair, she didn't think it was enough.

A knock on her room door caught her attention, and she called for whoever it was to come in before looking back at herself in the mirror. She had done a relatively good job covering up the sickly appearance her face held, as well as the dark circles beneath her eyes. All it took was two layers of foundation, some concealer, some eyeshadow, and a bit of mascara.

"Don't you look spiffy," Sam's voice sounded.

The corner of Marlena's mouth pulled up in an attempt to smile, though the gesture didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are you sure I'm not too underdressed?"

Sam shrugged and strolled over to her, crossing his arms over his chest. "You look better in that than you would in a dress. I'm still trying to get over the white-legged horror of seeing you in one at your mom's funeral."

Marlena gave a low chuckle and shook her head. Sam seemed to lighten up her somber mood whenever he was around, and because of that she was thankful. "You're funny, Sam."

"Someone's gotta be the comic relief inside this emotional shitstorm," he retorted.

Marlena looked over at him. "Where's Steve?"

"He's in the loft very angrily trying to put on a tie," he answered nonchalantly.

"And you didn't bother helping him?" Marlena chastised him, moving towards the door. "Y'know it's not the tie that's bothering him, right, Sam?"

Sam let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "In my defense, the man is fucking psycho when he's angry. I didn't wanna interfere."

Marlena simply rolled her eyes at Sam and hurried down the hall towards the loft. Steve sat on the couch with his head bowed. From what Marlena could see, he was dressed, but as Sam had informed her, his tie was undone and hanging loosely from his neck.

She walked over to him and placed her hand on his back, causing him to look up at her. His eyes were red, as were his cheeks. He had been crying, that much Marlena knew.

Marlena gave Steve a small smile and grabbed his hand, pulling him from his spot on the couch.

"Let's finish getting you ready," she said, bringing her hands up to fix his tie.

He let out a sigh and looked down at her, watching her as she gracefully moved her hands to and fro. "I don't know if I can do this, Mar. With everything going on with the accords it's just. . .too much."

"Well, I know you can," she told him. She looked up at him, patting his chest as she continued fumbling with the fabric of his tie. "I'll be there with you the entire time, okay? I'll be there right beside you."

Steve nodded softly, his eyes still glassy with tears, "Thank you, Marlena."

Giving him a small smile, her eyes returned to the tie as she worked with her hands, only his eyes never left her. Instead, he continued gazing at her, wishing deep down that he had the strength she did. He admired that about Marlena—her ability to put on a smile for everyone when she was really shattered inside.