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Bucky Barnes took a glance at his wristwatch with a quiet sigh. In fourteen hours and forty-nine minutes it would be exactly a year to the day that Steve Rogers had been shot dead. Try as Natasha Romanov might to take Bucky’s mind off that fact it was hard for Barnes to think of much else. A single text message to Tony Stark had been enough to earn them a window table at a Manhattan restaurant with a waiting list a yearlong. Bucky had barely touched his food, nudging the slice of salmon around his perfectly square plate impassively, until Natasha finally decided to break through the silence. 

“What’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”

Bucky shook his head and placed his knife and fork down, now conscious he had been playing with his food. “It’s not that.”

“Ah, the memorial service again.”

Natasha’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and compassion. Since Bucky had learned of the service he’d thought of little else. The pair had spoken about it several times over the past few days, Natasha explaining time and time again why it was unwise for them to attend, but it seemed like his mind was set. He looked up at her, the candlelight flickering in his face as he said as earnestly as he could.

“I have to go, Natasha.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Natasha said with a sympathetic sigh. “Norman Osborn and his so-called Avengers will be there waiting for us to show our faces so they can turn the whole thing into a firefight. There’ll be thousands of people there, hundreds of thousands even, we can’t risk them getting caught in the crossfire. It’s the last thing Steve would have wanted. You know that.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not asking you to go with me.”

He lent forward in his seat, the flame of the candle flicking against the black of Bucky’s eyes as he spoke, and tried his best to find the words.

“I watched Steve die, Natasha, watched him bleed out on those steps in a pair of handcuffs like a common criminal. I couldn’t lift a finger to help him. And then I had to watch his funeral from a barstool in some Brooklyn dive. Steve, Toro, and Jim Hammond were the closest thing I ever had to a family and now all three of them are gone. I couldn’t save Steve, I was on ice when Toro and Jim died, and now I’m meant to miss my chance to pay my respects to Steve? It’s not going to happen. I’m going, Natasha, one way or another I’m going to be there. Even if it means being led out of there in handcuffs by Norman Osborn at the end of the night.”

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but Bucky interjected with a shake of his head. 

“Nothing is going to stop me.”

An awkward silence settle between the two of them. Finally Natasha looked up at her lover and smiled. “Do you feel better now?”

Bucky’s face was red with embarrassment. He hadn’t intended to rant at Natasha but the thought of watching Norman Osborn and his cronies light candles to his friend’s memory whilst he watched on in hiding turned his stomach. He needed to be there. More than that, he needed Natasha to understand why he needed to be there no matter the cost.

“I guess so.”

“It doesn’t seem like I’m going to be able to change your mind,” Natasha said with a shrug. “So we’d better get with Barton and the rest of them to figure out what our play is for tomorrow night. The last thing we need to do is walk into Osborn’s trap unprepared.”

Bucky frowned. “I can do this on my own.”

A defiant smile appeared on Natasha’s face. It was the smile that Bucky had fallen in love when they had met all those years ago.

“Not a chance in hell, Barnes. If you think Luke, Clint, Logan, and Peter are going to stand by and watch you walk in there on your own you've got another thing coming. Steve meant as much to each and everyone one of them as he meant to you. If you're set on going to the service, we're [i]all[/i] going. But we're not going to do it half cocked.”

Bucky smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”

Natasha gestured towards one of the waiters wandering around with her head. “Should I get the cheque?”

“Sure,” Bucky said with a polite nod. “I’m going to the restroom, I won’t be long.”

Barnes stood up from his chair and kissed Natasha on the head gently as he made his way to the restroom. He took a glance back at her as he reached the door and smiled, allowing himself a moment to appreciate how perfect Natasha was, before walking inside. He made his way to the sinks and placed his hands beneath them, wiping his wet hands against his face and running one through his hair with a sigh. For a few moments he looked into his reflection and laid his eyes on the prosthetic arm that Stark had designed to look skin coloured. His metal arm reminded him of who he was before he picked up that shield and all the pain he'd caused. He'd make it up to them. One by one, day by day, he'd prove he was fit to carry the shield.

From behind Bucky there was a flash of light and Bucky looked in the mirror to see a man in a strange mask and a flowing burgundy coat stood staring at him. Beside him stood a duck barely three foot tall in height wearing human clothing.

“What the h…?”