Prompt Post 1

[capkinkmod]

Remember to title your comments, use appropriate warnings (or "choose not to warn"), and be civil. Embeds are not allowed.

At least one of the characters in your prompt must have been in Captain America: The First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.

Update, April 22, 2014:
For fills, please use the following format:
Fill: Title
Including the pairing, warnings/CNTW, and any other information after the fill and title in the subject line or in the first line of the comment.

Links:
Page A Mod
Fills
Discussion
Delicious Archive

Comments

Fill: And I Am Always with You, Part 19

[lauralot]

The Soldier had not thought a cemetery could be so active.

He did not understand, when he read the location of Steve's headstone on Wikipedia, why the marker was not removed when Steve was recovered from the ice. Gravestones are for the dead, which Steve is not. He would be dead if the Soldier had not failed his mission, but he tries to shake that thought from his head. The mission was wrong.

Thinking that makes it feel as though the glass of the helicarrier is giving way beneath him again. Weapons do not question their assignments, and he bites his lips. He should be punished, should punish himself as HYDRA isn't here to do it. He can likely administer a more effective beating than they are capable of anyway.

But he doesn't want to. And while he shouldn't want—it is bad to want—that doesn't keep the Soldier from feeling it. He has already been so bad that wanting is likely a minor entry on his list of transgressions. He thinks he likes wanting, and will continue it until he is ordered otherwise.

He also likes that Steve's headstone is still here.

It is more of a monument than a grave marker and from a distance, it is covered in colors. Up close, there are flowers, some singular and some twisted together with wire and ivy to form crosses and circles. There are cards, letters, some with thick, illegible writing pressed in crayon, some in small and flowing script. "THANK YOU FOR NEW YORK" one reads, its text smeared as though the paper has been rained on. Around the base of the gravestone are small, stuffed bears and eagles, pillows crocheted in the shape of Steve's shield. He sees old and worn scarves that he thinks are regulation styles and colors. There are red and pink markings—is it called lipstick?—on the parts of the granite left exposed. There are jewelry and crosses and things he does not know the names of.

Looking at it all, the Soldier thinks he understands why the headstone was not removed. This is gratitude, yes? He knows gratitude; he has felt it for HYDRA, for his arm and the weapons and purpose they provided. He has never done something like this, because assets have no possessions to bestow and do not give gifts, but the concept is not wholly alien.

He wipes at his mouth because his lips began to leak red when he last bit them. The hair on his face is longer. HYDRA must have had a way to prevent that, maybe a process that occurred they put him to sleep, but he doesn't know what it was that they did. Perhaps it is something that regulates itself when he is unconscious, but without ice or syringes, the Soldier does not know how to sleep.

There are many things he does not know, the Soldier is realizing, things beyond "who is James Buchanan Barnes" and "how can I be a person?" But he has determined that he runs off of water, and while there is still pain in his stomach and his body responds slower than it ought to, he is no longer ill. He will endure.

Beside the monument to Steve are two smaller graves, occupants that share the surname. Joseph and Sarah Rogers. Their headstones are also decorated, though nowhere near the extent of Steve's. He finds himself staring at Sarah Rogers's grave, again hearing more than remembering.

We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery.

He feels impulse, acts on it the way that he would in a mission. But the impulse in a mission is to break, wound, disable, and the impulse now is to touch his lips to Steve's grave. His mouth leaves a mark, a tinge of dark red against light stone, and he wipes it away, impulse fading. Steve is a hero. The weapon of Steve's enemies should not deface his monument.

The grave of James Buchanan Barnes is located in another cemetery.

The Soldier wonders as he travels to it if there is a casket beneath Barnes's headstone. There was no body to recover. Would they bury an empty box? He can see no purpose in doing so, but he understands that people act without purpose sometimes. According to the Internet, James Buchanan Barnes liked to dance. What purpose is there to that?

When he reaches the graveyard a bus is pulling away, orange-yellow in color with children seated inside. There was a bus like that headed toward Steve's cemetery when he left it. Steve and Barnes are history, he imagines, history or propaganda. Either way, they seem to be serving as some sort of lesson.

He walks past the grave at first because it is decorated with cards and flowers, and everyone who cared about James Buchanan Barnes is either deceased or Steve Rogers. And having shot Steve multiple times, the Soldier doubts he is receiving cards from him.

Once the Soldier doubles back he stares down, uncomprehending. It is not as revered as Steve's grave but there are three daffodils resting at the center, held together with a bow of yellow yarn. Hanging from the bow is a piece of paper. He lifts it, reads. With gratitude, Mrs. Royce's third grade class, P.S. 059. To either side of the flowers, propped up against the rock, are cards of folded construction paper, drawn on with pencil and crayon.

Dear Bucky, thank you for keeping the USA safe. Your a hero.

Dear Bucky, I read you were Captain America's best friend. Captain America is so cool, I bet you were cool too.

Dear James, my name is James to! You are really awesome.

Dear Bucky, I want to fight bad guys and keep the country safe like you did when I grow up.

Dear Bucky, Thank you so much. Are you Captain Amerca's guardin angel now?

There is liquid leaking out of his eyes, leaving stains on the paper. His vision blurs and he blinks to clear it, setting the rest of the cards down before he can damage those as well. The dizziness from the night prior is back, and he steadies himself by bracing the metal hand against the headstone as he pulls the water bottle out of the jacket and drinks. The water does not make the vertigo subside.

The Soldier stares at the ground beneath him, wondering again if there is a casket. He wants to tear at the dirt and find it, conceal himself within and drown in soil rather than water. James Buchanan Barnes should have died falling from the train. If he had, he could be a friend and a hero. The Soldier is neither. His existence is a mistake, an aberration, an insult to everything Steve has accomplished. And if Barnes couldn't prevent himself from becoming this weapon, then Barnes must have been weak and unworthy of Steve's friendship. Steve had pledged to be there until the end of the line. Barnes had broken away before they reached it.

James Buchanan Barnes's grave is flanked by either parent. On the left, George Barnes, and Winifred Barnes on the right. He knew their names from the Smithsonian. The dates say they survived their child and he thinks they must have died believing Barnes to be dead. Believing him to be a hero. And while he thinks that is better—he does not want the parents to hurt as he does not want Steve to hurt—the rest of the world believes it too and it is a lie. The Soldier cannot lie. He cannot bend the truth. He cannot omit it or conceal it. He is programmed to be honest and the reverence, the veneration of this undermining traitorous failure is not honest.

He shakes his head, stares at the mother's gravestone as he tries to collect his thoughts, tries to believe he is not responsible for the lies of others. What did Barnes call this woman? Mother? Мать? Mama?

There is a whir of metal and a sensation of crumbling beneath his hand, and the Soldier turns his head to find that his metal fingers have tightened and crushed the portion of Barnes's headstone beneath them. Cracks are running through the rest of it, out from the point of impact.

Good, he thinks. The Soldier stands and he is leaving just as another orange-yellow bus arrives.