milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Steve comes through the door in his dress uniform, looking hollow-eyed and grim. He goes to the Bar and drops a pile of Army scrip on the top.

"A bottle of Atlantean, please," and then adds, "And some paper and a pen, and a poppy from Remembrance Day, if you have one."

The Bar delivers. Perhaps with an air of concern.

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve says and, in big dark letters that are nothing like his usual cheerful hand, writes:

IN MEMORIAM
SGT. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES
1918-1944

and pins it to the bulletin board, along with the poppy.

He then takes the bottle and goes to the darkest, least visible booth he can find.

[ooc: Feel free to have your pup react to Steve's announcement, but please PM or email me before tagging Steve as he is in a Very, Very Bad Place. Thanks.

All threads millitimed to before the thread with Orpheus, please.]

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In the booth, Steve drinks, oblivious.

The first thought that filters through, apart from the flurry of desperate denials, is how could this have happened? Sunshine had seen Bucky just a couple of weeks ago! There'd been good-natured teasing, and maple-pecan pumpkin bars, and lots and lots of dishes. The memory makes her eyes sting. How...

But the question is met almost immediately by the backlash - so stupid - he's a soldier fighting a war, Sunshine. Was a soldier fighting a war. How does she think this happened?

But it's not enough. She... she has to know. Rae looks around the room for any sign of - Steve. There.

The discarded duffel and the fallen coat completely forgotten, Rae approaches Steve's booth. There's no question of whether or not there's been some mistake. Steve's devastation is clear, both in his manner and in the shadows that cross his face, their red-lined edges bright as fresh blood.

"Steve?"

"Hey," Steve says without enthusiasm. (She shouldn't take it personally. He's not enthused about living, much less about people, right now.) "Miss Seddon. Hi."

She doesn't take it personally. She's feeling pretty gutted, herself, and Rae knows it's nothing compared to what Steve must be going through.

"Hi," she answers, faintly, trying to calm the whirlwind of questions going through her head. "Are y-"

But no, she stops herself. More stupid questions, Sunshine. Do you think he's all right? Of course he's not. He just lost his best friend... and there's nothing that can fill the kind of hole in one's spirit left by something like that.

But it does against her nature not to try.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Steve shakes his head. "Nope, unless you can turn back time and bring him back."

Sunshine closes her eyes, turning her head away.

"C'n slow it down and speed it up - but turning it back is beyond me." Or else she'd already have done so. If the spell even existed, she's pretty sure Balthazar would've already used it.

"I'm so sorry, Steve." It doesn't matter that she knows it won't help either of them. She says it anyway; she can't not.

"Yeah," Steve mutters. "Me too."

He has another drink.

"Can I..." She doesn't want to ask. "Can I ask what happened?"

Steve has another drink.

"He fell off a train into a gorge."

Curtly. If he tries to say anymore, he'll lose what little control he has right now.

The quiet gasp is ragged, Sunshine reflexively covering her mouth with her hands as she stares at Steve.

She can't imagine... no, yes she can. Her imagination can manage that - and she fervently wishes it couldn't.

"Oh Steve." Rae's voice shakes.

Sunshine doesn't have Steve's control.

Steve mutters, "Yeah," and drinks.

He doesn't need her standing there, with tears brimming over. He doesn't need her to tell him that Bucky was a good man and a good friend. What he needs, she can't give him.

So Rae reaches forward to lightly take the hand not on his drink, and give it a brief squeeze - in support, in solidarity, in sympathy - before she turns to gather her things and flee up the stairs.

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