ever marching as to war

Face pressed into his shoulder, Lucy nodded as much as she could without pulling away, figuring that summed it up pretty well. She ought to have been used to it, she thought, and in a sense, she was, but it hurt just as much as ever, if not more so, with every person who went, every loss she was left to pick up the pieces from. Right now, though, it was at least a little easier not to focus quite so hard on that. Max had been gone for ages — almost two whole fucking years, if she remembered right — but there was a reason why she'd asked Bucky to be the one to give her away, back when she still had a wedding to plan. He was the closest thing to family she had, and she would have been crazy not to be grateful for that now.

"It really doesn't," she murmured, her own words half-muffled. "Even when you think it should, it doesn't. It won't."