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Bucky sat dejectedly on his bed, hands clasped in his lap, head hung low. Dark, unkempt hair fell around a face that had once been hardened and dangerous, but was now simply sad. Bucky knew he ought to be getting to bed. Steve would not approve of him sitting up to this hour after a full day of work that was rigorous both physically and mentally. Tomorrow was also likely to be busy. Wait, it already was tomorrow. He frowned at his innocent alarm clock, who dutifully stated the time to be 12:37 am.