Chapter One
Soroya

John's body was in the storage unit where we left it. The coroners office came and got him, cleaned him up, then shipped him to Virginia where his body will be buried in Arlington National cemetery. This is where men and women who died in the line of duty are buried. As a major in the army, John is being given the honor of being put to rest here. His brother Henry was buried here after he was killed by HYDRA, and in his will John asked to be buried next to him.

John is getting a military funeral with high ranking officers in attendance, as well as all the Avengers, our friends, our family, and even some high ranking government officials. The president is here, a man who takes a backseat in every aspect of his job, giving all power to his secretaries, one of which is here. Secretary Daniel Fai is standing right next to the president, his eyes on Jo, who is sitting in between Khari and Alex. They're at the end of the first row, with Livy and Zy next to them, tears running down their faces, their hands linked together. Stevie is next to them, Liam on his other side, trying to comfort Stevie as he cries. Sam and Jade are next, the agony in their faces at an extreme level, especially Sam. He's staring down at the ground, silent tears streaming down his face, his eyes devoid of emotion, like he's frozen, numb. He's sitting right next to me, with Bucky on my other side, in the last chair in the row, closest to the isle John's coffin is being carried down.

Bucky's hand is firm in mine as the coffin grows nearer, to the burial spot in the ground a few feet in front of us. I can't bring myself to look at the coffin, instead I keep my eyes glued to the tombstone, which reads:

JOHNATHON FREDRICK WALKER
Major, United States Army
Born: March 15th, 1986
Died: June 24th, 2046

His brother's tombstone next to his reads:

HENRY MICHAEL WALKER
Sergeant, United States Army
Born: February 19th, 1979
Died: August 8th, 2001

I wish I had the chance to meet Henry. Though John was jealous of him, resented him, I know how much he loved him, how much he looked up to him. John always wanted to be the hero Henry was, wanted to make his brother proud of him. I know he's achieved that.

John told me once that the country mourned his brother's death, that the funeral was packed, not a dry eye to be seen for yards. That's what John's funeral is like: so many people, so many reporters, every person's cheeks stained with tears. John wouldn't believe it if he saw it, would think they're here for someone else or that it's some joke. But it's not. The country, the Avengers, the military, they all know what he was, what he always will be: a hero.

The military officers set the coffin down, now gathering around it, holding an American flag over top of it. The president steps forward, bowing his head in respect towards the coffin, and begins his speech, which is protocol for a funeral like this.

"Major John Walker devoted his life to his country and the world. He served for more than twenty years, achieving several medals and honors, as well as the rank of Major. He was a man of unquestionable honor, integrity, and dedication. He was known for his courage in battle, his unwillingness to give up even when odds were stacked against him, and his loyalty to his colleagues and friends. He was driven by a need, a need to make the world a better place, a safer place for everyone, from all walks of life. Major Walker sacrificed his life so that others may live, so that those closest to him may live. Such a sacrifice gives him a title not easily earned, one that few men and women achieve: the title of hero. The people of America and the people of the world owe you their thanks. May you rest in peace, Major, and may your sacrifice never be forgotten."

Yes, John did sacrifice himself to save others. He did die a hero. He died so that Jo may escape and get Hale's blood to Ana, so that she could save me and Alex. He died to save her, to save me. He died because I killed him. I shot him, right in the forehead, between his eyes. The reason why it's a closed casket is because of what I did to him. We can't see his body because it's so messed up from the wound I caused, from the fatal blow I made. For as long as I live I will never forget that moment, the moment I was holding the gun to his head and he didn't look sad or angry. He knew the end was coming, he knew he was staring death in the face, but he didn't care. He wasn't afraid, he just smiled and accepted the end.

I love you. Those were his last words. People spend their whole lives wondering what their last words will be, what final message they will have to the physical world before they leave it forever, and his was a message to me. A message he had held in his heart for years, a message he had given before, and swore he would never again. I love you. Three small words that hold so much meaning, especially when they are the last thing you ever say.

I loved him, too. Of course I did, he was one of my closest friends. He was the person I could always depend on, the person who never failed at making me laugh, who always let me lean on him when times got hard. He had no idea how much he meant to me, how deeply he had ingrained himself into my heart. When I first met him I hated him, wished there would come a day when I would never see him again. But now, now I would give anything to have just one more day with him, to hug him, to see his smile, to tell him I'm sorry. Sorry I killed him, sorry I put him through two decades of heartache, sorry I ruined his life.

The military officers begin folding up the flag as the twenty one gun salute begins. I glance at Sam, finding his gaze on the coffin, tears streaming harder down his face. I slip my hand into his, and immediately he grips onto it, his numb and frozen expression fading away into pure suffering. I haven't seen him like this since Steve died. Now Sam has lost two best friends, and one is all my fault. How Sam can look at me, touch me, speak to me is beyond comprehension. If I were him I would damn the very ground I stand on and never even think of me again. How can he be friends with someone who killed his best friend?

When the flag is finished being folded, its handed to the president. Usually in military funerals the flag is given to the spouse or closest relative, but John doesn't have anyone. His brother is dead, his parents are dead and they were only child's, any grandparents he had are long dead, and he never got married because he was in love with me.

He would have made an incredible husband, any woman would have been lucky to have him. But he didn't want another woman, he wanted me, but he could never have me. He knew that. God, he knew that and yet he stayed by my side anyways. He worked with me, spent time with me, went to every birthday party, every Christmas, every event in my children's lives. For the love of God they called him 'Uncle John'. I know in the beginning being around Livy was painful, but did it continue to be painful after all these years? Was being around my children torture? Did I just not care? Was I so selfish that I forced him to be in my life despite the pain it put him through?

The president approaching me pulls me from my thoughts. He gives me a mournful smile and hands me the folded flag, making my mouth gape open in shock. The president explains: "He would have wanted you to have it."

I nod to him and take it, staring down at the neatly folded flag, the item made to symbolize John's heroism. The twenty one gun salute ends and the coffin begins to lower into the grave, the sound of trumpets blaring throughout the graveyard. This is what breaks me, this is what opens up the flood gates. I cover my mouth as a sob escapes my lips, the flag dropping from my lap onto the ground. Sam picks it up with one hand and places his other on my back, trying to comfort me.

Bucky collects me into his arms and holds me against his chest, petting my hair, not bothering to speak. He knows there's nothing to say. He knows how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking. This is how he felt when he killed Julian, he said the exact same things I'm saying now, had the same look of guilt and utter agony in his eyes. I'm glad he understands, it saves me the energy of talking through all of this, which is the last thing I want to do, especially now. He knows that too, knows I don't want to talk about what happened. He knows I need time, time to process, time to accept, and time to mourn.

Now, at this funeral, with John's coffin being lowered into the ground where it will remain forever, is the time to mourn.

-

Everyone who attended the funeral was invited to a wake afterwards at John's house. All the Avengers, all of our family and friends, they all came. Some of the officials have too, some generals and admirals who knew John, and even Daniel Fai decided to come. For the first several minutes he was staring at her from afar, working up the courage to walk over to her, and then he did, offering his condolences to her, Alex, and Khari. Daniel was met with stern expressions from my brother in laws, but they thanked him anyways. Jo didn't say anything to him, just nodded her head and walked away, heading towards where Livy, Zy, Stevie, and Liam stand near the living room windows. A pained expression flooded the secretary's face as he watched his daughter walk away, the pain of a parent who doesn't know how to console their child, who wouldn't be welcomed to do so even if they knew how. Despite all the bad he's done, I do feel bad for him. I'm the only one though, everyone else is more than happy that Jo hasn't made an effort to connect with her biological father. I think she will eventually, she just needs time.

It's funny, that phrase: needing more time, as if time is something you can just buy at a store or order at a restaurant. We all need time, we all want more of it, but we never get to pick how much time we get. One minute you have it, then the next you don't. Time has always been my biggest enemy, the one thing that has repeatedly taken from me. The time with my parents was taken, those five years with my brother and husband were taken, time with Steve, Natasha, and John were taken. Take, take, take, that's all time does, it's all it knows how to do.

"Ms. Roberts?" A mid forties Japanese woman asks, wearing a formal suit, her hair tied back in a bun. When I nod my head, she gives me a mournful smile. "I'm Nari Nakano, I was Mr. Walker's lawyer. I'm so sorry for your loss, I know he was a good friend of yours."

I just smile at her, unable to find a response. She doesn't seem to mind, she just continues: "I wanted to discuss his will with you and your family, as well as Sam Wilson and Jade Rosales."

I nod to her, telling her I'll gather everyone up and meet her in the kitchen. Once I do so, we all crowd into the small space, watching as Ms. Nakano takes out a small stack of papers bound in leather. She begins reading from it: "With the life we have, I think it's about time I make a will. You never know what's going to happen. Before I start giving away my stuff, I want all of you to know that I lived a very happy life. I went from being all alone, to having the most loving, dedicated, and loyal family a man could wish for. Each of you changed my life for the better, made me a better man, and for that I am eternally grateful. No matter how I died, know I died a happy man, with no regrets."

No one speaks, no one breaths, no one moves. We all just stand there and let those words sink in, the last words of his we'll ever hear. Ms. Nakano doesn't pause, she continues on reading the will, reading John's final wishes.

"I'll get the small stuff out of the way first. My collection of movies can be split between all of you. Stevie, there is a box set of Steven King movies I know you'll like, its on the bottom shelf of my bookshelf. Jo, every book I own is yours, though I doubt you'll find any of them interesting. I have a collection of vintage records that can be split between all of you as well, but most of it is from the sixties and seventies, so I suspect Sam and Livy will find the most enjoyment out of them. My motorcycle is Alex's, but I swear if you wreck it I will come back from the dead and murder you myself."

Alex chuckles at that, but it's a brief chuckle which only brings on more sorrow, not joy like laughter should.

"My military jacket, my dog tags, and my small collection of childhood items I leave to Soroya. I don't care if you keep or sell them, I leave that up to you. Everything else in my house is up for grabs, what you don't want, sell. The house itself, as well as my car, and all the money in my bank account goes to Sam and Jade. This money is to be used for one purpose: opening up another bakery. Jade, your talent as a baker is too good to only be used at one location. Use the money to franchise your business. The world deserves to taste the creations you make."

A whimper comes out of Jade, her hand stifling a sob threatening to escape her lips. Sam wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her head, a tear falling into her hair.

"My cabin goes to Soroya and Bucky. You always liked it more than I did. I think that about covers my possessions, if I missed anything major then just assume it's up for grabs. I don't want to get sappy, but I guess since this might be the last message you ever get from me, now is the appropriate time to be sappy," Ms. Nakano's eyes dart to Sam. "Sam, it's crazy to think that the person I once hated most, resented most, became my best friend. I know that no matter what you'll continue to fight for freedom, for justice no matter who tries to stand in your way, but I want you to promise me that you will focus on your life along with the lives of others. Use the money to franchise the bakery, retire one day, hang up the shield. You and Jade deserve to have some peace, and I hope you find it. And Jade, I mean it, franchise your bakery. I can't stress that enough. The money is my repayment for all those years of you being my guide post, my closest friend. Don't hold back."

Her eyes now fall to the kids. "Livy, I hope that I got to see you become a doctor, if not, then I know you will become the greatest this world has ever witnessed. You're brilliant, kiddo. The world needs doctors like you, and when you finally become one, the world will be a safer place because of it. Stevie, whatever you decide to be, whether that's an Avenger, or an artist, or something else, you will do great at it. You're so full of light and hope, just like your mother. Never loose sight of that. Jo, the world is yours for the taking. You have spent your life reading about the adventures of other people, I want you to start having some of your own. Write your own story, one that people will want to read. Zy'aire, I hope I got to see you become king, if not, then I have no doubt that you will change the world, make it better then we ever could. You kids have been one of the brightest lights in my life. Being your uncle has been a privilege, and know that I love you all very much."

All four kids hold onto each other's hands, their hearts heavy, their tears plentiful, but their heads held high. They are determined to get through this, to stand firm, to be each other's rocks. The four musketeers can get through anything, even loss, something they don't have much experience in feeling. They felt it when Khari's parents died, when Ramonda died, the only grandparents any of them had known, and now they feel it with John's death. They'll get through it like they always have: together.

Ms. Nakano's eyes now fall to Alex, Khari, and Bucky. "Alex, you're a pain in the ass, but probably the most loyal friend I've ever had. Khari, your patience and kindness is without limit, that's evident in how you've been married to Alex for over two decades. You were always a shining light in my life, both of you. Bucky, I never expected us to be as close as we became, but I'm eternally grateful we did. Thank you for being my confidant, my shoulder to lean on. A man could not ask for more dedicated or loving friends, thank you for always fighting by my side."

Ms. Nakano finally turns to me, looking choked up as she reads what John left to me in the pages of the will: "Soroya, I promised you I would never say these words again, but I'm dead, and promises mean nothing now. I love you. You knew that, but I had to say it again. You turned a selfish, arrogant, broken man and made him give a shit, made him whole for the first time in his life. For that I owe you my heart, maybe even my soul, but both belong to you anyways. If there is a life after this, I hope to see you there, Soroya Roberts. I hope to see your face, see your smile one last time."

Ms. Nakano wipes her nose with her sleeve before finishing off with: "With my shit given away and the goodbyes spoken, I'll now end this will. Please serve good food at my funeral, and make sure to play some tasteful music. Yours always, John Walker."

There's a pause, the atmosphere tense as we all let John's words sink in, and then I run out of the room. I don't even know what I'm doing, I just need to move, need to get out of here. I feel like the words John wrote to me in the will are suffocating me, stealing away all the air in my lungs, making me lightheaded, making bile rise in my throat. I manage to make it outside before I hunch over the ground and vomit, tears falling rapidly from my eyes, my chest heaving from a sob, coming out ragged.

From the darkest corner of my mind, my powers, the Savage hums, purrs almost, as she always does when I'm overcome with anger or sorrow. She's just eating this up, she's loving every second of the sorrow she's inflicting on me, the deep rooted pain. This little nudge of hers makes a growl escape my lips, an inhuman one, the kind a predator makes right before they strike to kill. God I wish I could strike at her, hurt her, make her feel even a semblance of what I feel, of what she made John feel. But I can't. She's apart of me, just as I'm apart of her. It may have been her mind that killed John, but it was my body, these hands.

I dig those hands into the ground, my tears falling faster, harder, my voice guttural and broken as I yell: "I hate you! I hate you with every marrow of my bones, every fiber of my being I hate you!"

I must sound like a madwoman, but I don't care. The Savage doesn't feel anything but pleasure at my outburst. Seeing me this angry, this broken, it's her one solace in the prison of my mind.

I glance behind me and find my whole family there, none of them moving, none of them speaking, all their eyes on me. I expect Bucky to come forward and try to comfort me, but he doesn't, Alex does. He slumps down to the ground next to me and gathers me into his arms, whispering: "I know."

He does know, more than even Bucky ever will. Alex holds me like this for a long time, long after the guests have gone, long after the sun sets and our bodies grow weak from exhaustion. He doesn't care, he just holds me, whisper over and over and over again:

"I know."