My Dearest James

3

Natasha was determined to make this the best birthday ever; the one that finally brought her fiancée out of his annual funk.

She'd noticed Bucky's strange behavior since they'd met, but she never knew how serious it was until they'd moved in together. She always figured he was busy the weeks surrounding it, but now she knew better. Now she knew he'd lock himself in his study, poring over whatever Steve gave him. Every. Year. Then he would emerge, looking exhausted, but otherwise acting as if nothing had happened. He was the man she fell in love with again, and her worries were pushed to the back of her mind until his next birthday approached.

All traces of whatever Steve gave him were gone as well. Locked in the safe he kept, she figured; the one thing she wasn't granted access to. When she asked him, he avoided the question, only saying it was nothing. When she asked Steve, he'd replied it had to do with before he joined their family, and nothing for her to concern herself with. Peggy, Steve's wife and her future sister-in-law, was as much in the dark as she was. Sam straight refused to say anything on the matter, only warning her to leave it alone. When she became desperate enough to seek Father Coulson, he'd only smiled and advised her to speak to Bucky about it.

The only clue she had to his past was a name: Y/N. A storm came in the night while Bucky was sleeping and she was looking over a deposition for an upcoming case. She knew he hated them, but when he'd bolted up after a loud crack of thunder and screamed Y/N's name, something hard formed in the pit of her stomach. When again he didn't allow her to comfort him, she grilled him about her, but was satisfied when he said he knew her from his days at the orphanage, and he didn't keep in touch. She was the best lawyer in New York, and she was sure he'd told the truth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

You were finishing up a journal entry, sticking the final picture to the page when there was a knocking on the wall of your hut.

"Honey, it's me," Pepper called.

"Come in."

Tony and Pepper always kept a journal and took countless photos, so it was no surprise you'd picked up the habit not long after they gifted you your own journal and camera. They had pitched the idea to the magazine to publish your own articles, providing a child's perspective of the world. The editor readily agreed, much to your parents' pleasure. They hadn't counted on your refusal to give up your journal, however, and they respected your decision in the end and took whatever you were willing to give them.

"Hey," she greeted softly with a smile. "Ready to head into town?"

"Yeah," your voice cracked. "Just a sec." Under the last photo you wrote, 'Happy Birthday, James.'

You closed the book and grabbed your backpack, following her out where Tony was already waiting in a car. In town, the first stop was the post office. Tony gave you the usual envelope and small box, and you gave him your articles. While he and Pepper tended to their business, you carefully packed your journal and addressed it to James at Winchester's. You had no idea if he was even getting them anymore, but you hoped that someone knew of his whereabouts and forwarded them to him.

"Why hasn't she gone back?" Tony asked in a low whisper.

"She's scared," Pepper replied sadly. "I would be, too. It's been so long."

Over the years, they talked about your situation at great length. In all honesty, they expected you to take off as soon as you turned eighteen; back to the boy you left behind. When you didn't, they grew concerned, but tried to never show it. They knew you weren't over him since no other guy ever held your interest for long, and every February you'd send him the journal you'd spent the previous year filling to make sure he got it in time for his birthday.