The day finally came when Bucky had to go. We were waiting for Steve to come home, but he never did. Bucky was in his officers suit. "Promise me you'll be careful." He said, looking me in the eyes. I nodded. "I promise." He grinned. "Keep the punk out of trouble." I nodded, tears filling my eyes. He was really leaving.

He saw and pulled me into a hug. "Will you write?" I asked. I felt him nod. "Of course. Every week." He said in my ear. "Thank you." I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. He wiped away my tears. "Hey, you've gotta be strong. You're America for pete's sake."

That made me laugh. "Go on, you jerk. You're going to be late." I said. He smiled and hugged me tight. "Never stop trying, Jailiana." He said and stood strait. He raised his hand in a salute. I saluted back. He grinned and kissed my forehead.

I watched him leave, tears in my eyes. Steve never got to say goodbye. He waved at me until I couldn't see him anymore. I was happy for him. I didn't understand why I felt so empty. I knew it was coming.

Than it hit me: I had feelings for Bucky I never knew were there until he was gone.

Later that night, I went looking for Steve. I found him after an hour. He was in an ally, beaten up. "Steve, what did you do?" I asked. "I thought I could take them." He croaked. "No, you punk!" I said through tears. He had the nerve to smile. "Where's Bucky?" He asked.

I swallowed hard. "I'll tell you once we get home. Come on." I pulled him to my feet, pulling his arm around my shoulder. We got home and I set him down by the kitchen table. I coughed and got some water and a rag.

I pulled his boots of and set them by the door. I cleaned the cuts on his face. He winced often. I was the only one who could help him. Mom was gone, as usual. He sat there, his blue eyes full of fire. My brother had the mental drive. His body just couldn't handle it.

He fell asleep. I didn't blame him. He'd taken a beating. I bandaged his hands and his head. I gently shook him. "Come on. You need rest." I said. He nodded. I helped him up to our room. "You never told me where Bucky's at." He mumbled. "He's... he left earlier. He wanted to say goodbye. You just weren't here."

His face fell. "So he's really gone?" He asked. I nodded. He slammed his small fist against the bed. "I should've known. I knew. I just got caught up." He looked down in regret. "Steve, it's fine. He said he'd write." I told him. His face grew serious. "We should talk to the scientist. Take him up on his offer."