before the storm / bucky barnes

ii. Rest Now

BUCKY stares at himself in the full length mirror. Cassandra's full length mirror.

His middle finger and forefinger of his right hand are tucked in the collar of his black turtleneck sweater as he pulls and tugs at it, feeling as if he's about to choke.

Bucky quickly clears his throat and lets his hands fall to his sides, running momentarily over the black suit that's buttoned at his torso.

Cassandra's funeral is today.

He reluctantly steps out of her room and into his own, where packed boxes are sitting, scattered all across the place. Bucky had just removed the sheets from the bed and sealed the last of the boxes. He was leaving tonight.

It's been 4 days, and he couldn't bare another night in the room they once shared. So, Tony had organised a one way ticket to Bucharest after the funeral, much to everyone's protests.

Bucky's eyes are dry, he can't cry anymore, he's all out of tears to shed. He hasn't slept in days, and his throat is beyond sore. But he slept last night, so he could seem healthy and okay for the day he bid his love adieu for the last time.

A brown, battered journal sits atop a pile of boxes beside him. His journal. A lined piece of paper that appears as if it's been crumpled one hundred times over is used as if a bookmark, between the pages. Bucky brings his right hand up and grabs the book, opening it to the page that the paper has bookmarked in.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

Bucky's handwriting. Bucky's pages.

And in between the pages lies Bucky's speech.

Bucky exhales sharply through his nose, ignoring his words so hastily scrawled across the page. He grabs his speech and slides the journal, closed, back onto the boxes before making his way out of the room and towards the kitchen. His half empty glass of water sitting at the corner of the marble bench top, he stares as the water sits flat, perfectly calm, until he's brought to the attention they have to leave as Steve Rogers walks down the hall.

Bucky's jaw tightens before reaching out and taking a sip of water, nodding as Steve pats him on the shoulder and walks towards the elevator, Bucky following shortly behind.

"You don't need to talk if you don't feel comfortable," Steve's eyebrows furrow as he watches his best friend fiddling with the folded paper in his hands.

Bucky had barely spoken to anyone apart from Steve, allowing him to hear a portion of his speech the night prior. He didn't get far through it though, and it's good that Steve was there to console the broken man.

"I want to do this," Bucky croaks out, as if convincing himself, before clearing his throat and glancing momentarily upwards at Steve.

Steve merely nods and slings an arm around his friend, pulling him in for a short, but much needed, hug.

-

Tony Stark is standing with both hands atop the coffin that holds his daughter.

He's whispering things that only he can hear. He's talking to Cassandra.

He hopes she can hear him.

The church is empty, apart from him and Cass. Pepper is arriving with Morgan when the service begins, but for now – just the Starks.

Tony's speech is tucked solemnly away in his jacket pocket, barely peeking out as he leans his forehead so it ghosts over the varnished wood.

"You left me too soon, Star," Is all Tony can conjure as he presses his lips to the coffin. He quickly stands tall as he hears Pepper's footsteps down the tiling and approaching her husband with trembling lips, her arms hugging their daughter at her hip.