Winter Is Coming (A Bucky Barnes Fanfic)

Chapter 23: Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

"Summer without you is as cold as winter. Winter without you is even colder." -Lemony Snicket c/o Beatrice Baudelaire

***

They say that shock wears down after a while. They're wrong. They say a coffin is meaningless when it's empty. Not true.

"We are gathered here today in honor of James Buchanan Barnes," the minister says, toying with his sleeve. "James was a brave soul, brought to us years ago, and now he has moved on to the otherworld, where new adventures await."

A picture of Bucky is propped on a three legged stand, a picture of him before everything, an image of a smiling face, one Harley would never see again.

"But he will remain, for the heart of everyone in this room beats on."

Harley searches the crowd from her seat in the back. She spots everyone from S.H.I.E.L.D., some of their apartment neighbors, and a lonely soldier at the back doors. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his head bowed, but the blonde hair is unmistakable.

Harley tunes out the droning minister and stands quietly, joining Steve by the holy water basin.

He grips her hand and looks up, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Harley gives him a soft smile, holding back tears of her own.

The minister ends the ceremony with a prayer. Harley and Steve let the people file out before them, wanting to be the last remaining.

Once everyone has gone, they approach the memorial. Candles are placed within the flower beds and on the floor, unlit. Harley lights every single one, and Steve places some black and white photos he found of the three of them on the stand.

The candles burn and melt, and she watches until Steve pulls her away.

***

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Harley nods, picking up another box and moving towards the door. "I've said it a thousand times. I think it'll help."

Steve shrugs and picks up a box of novels. "If moving in to Bucky's apartment makes you better, by all means lead the way."

Harley is coping a lot better than Steve had imagined. She doesn't mope and lay around in a depressed state; instead, she pushes on and busies herself. But he can't mistake the emptiness in her eyes. There's no avoiding that.

Steve holds the door open to the stairs for Harley. "I don't mean to argue about this, but don't you think moving into the place he once was would make it worse?"

Harley gives him a sympathetic smile. "It can't get worse. I don't go lower than ground level."

As for Steve, he's holding up well. Whether it's the fact that this sort of thing has happened before or the fact that he knows Bucky died happy, he isn't sure, but he can't help feeling like he should be more upset.

"Harley?" he asks once they reach Bucky's apartment. She looks up from rummaging through a box. "Why am I not sad?" At those words, her eyes turn pitiful. Steve drops the box on the floor. "I'm not upset. I can't cry. The tears come but don't flow over. Why? My best friend is dead, and I'm not even that bothered. You're so distraught, and I can't even make myself cry. Am I becoming a careless, unloving person? What if I never truly loved Bucky? What if-"

"Steve, stop," Harley says softly. "I think your mind is tricking you. You've seen this happen, so your head is telling you that he'll come back again. Mine can't do that. I didn't see him fall off the train, but you did. You're probably feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Does that make sense?"