Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

James 'Bucky' Barnes was on his way home from the subway station closest to his place, hands buried deep in the pockets of his warm winter coat, his collar turned up against the cold wind blowing up from the East River.

There was still snow on the ground from the blizzard last week but it had been gathered into piles along the edge of the sidewalk days ago and the once beautiful white mounds of snow now presented in an ugly dark grey.

Other than that one heavy snowfall it was a wet and unpleasant January this year in New York. Mostly rainy, just above freezing, a damp cold that crept up on you, seemingly penetrating clothing and that would chill you to the bone.

Not that he wasn't used to the cold. He had his share of bitter cold winters. But the cold in Siberia was different. Dry. Crisp. Easier to bear.

But that wasn't something he wanted to remember now. Or ever for that matter.

Shaking his head angrily he tried to force his mind to focus on where he was now. The streets of Brooklyn New York, the black pavement, the yellow and red brick buildings with the grand looking front steps, the trees that lined the roads. The place where he grew up.

Somebody had recognized him today when he had taken one of his many walks.

It thankfully didn't happen a lot. Unlike Sam's face his wasn't plastered all over the media all the time and enough time had passed since the incident with the flagsmashers at the GRC and since the video of him in the bar in Madripoor went viral all over the internet. His name and picture had mostly disappeared from the media. With his vibranium arm hidden in a jacket and a glove nobody seemed to recognize him.

Until today, when he tried to reach for the hot coffee he had just bought from a street vendor a kid caught a glimpse of his arm in the gap between his sleeve and glove.

"Dude! This is the Winter Soldier!"

With that outcry the boy pointed at him with his hand outstretched and everyone turned to look at him.
Bucky saw them staring, exchanging looks, heard them whisper to one another, one mother pulled her children away from him behind some other people.

He noticed someone pulling out a cellphone to film him and then another person. That's when Bucky decided to hightail it out of there. He turned around brusquely, shoved his way past the coffee cart and a bystander, dropping his coffee cup on the ground in the process and put on a spurt down the block.

Almost running he turned the street corner and only slowed down when he was sure whoever might have followed him would have lost him in the crowd.

Breathing heavily he turned a corner into a small alley between two buildings and leaned against the brick wall, trying to catch his breath, his mind racing and his hands shaking. It took him several minutes before he had calmed down enough to rejoin the pedestrian traffic and continue his walk.

The incident had rattled him more than he wanted to admit - or than he thought it would for that matter and he didn't even quite understand why. Even now a good while later he still felt kinda out of sorts.

He wasn't sure how long he had walked when he finally arrived at his apartment building. He didn't remember which route he took home this time. Sometimes, like today, when he was lost in his thoughts he found himself still doing that, taking a different route home. It was something he had learned as an assassin for HYDRA. Never take the same route twice in a row, never fall into a habit, never be predictable. It was hard to shake that even though he tried to make a conscious effort to.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the heavy glass door to the lobby of his building.
The air in here was warm but stale and smelled of the cleaning detergents the janitor used to clean the salt off the linoleum floor. In its heyday the building had probably been stunning. The brick exterior still showed a glimpse of its former glory, even though now it was blackened by pollution. The high ceiling in the lobby still wore the painted stucco details, the colorful designs though now faded and the granite walls, once polished and shimmering in the light, had dulled over the years.

Bucky checked his mailbox but it was empty, like it was most days. He didn't get a lot of mail. His bills and sometimes a letter from his probation officer or the VA but that was it.

After stopping by the wall with the rows of mailboxes with their old fashioned brass doors he crossed the lobby toward the elevators. He didn't like elevators particularly not the on in this building. He always felt trapped in them and this one especially had a tendency to make these creaking, rattling noises that definitely didn't help him feel less anxious about using them.

He rounded the corner to take the stairs up to his floor.

The hallway looked bare. Light grey walls with the scuff marks of decades all over them, granite optic linoleum floors and ceiling lights that made everything look a little too cold.

His new place wasn't big or particularly cozy either. He had a main room with a small kitchenette and a large window looking out on the street and a small bedroom off of that room with a small attached bathroom. He didn't own a lot of furniture still. A worn out couch that had come with the lease, a table with two chairs, a TV and a single bookshelf that was still as empty as it had been the day he moved in was all.

Hid bedroom was even worse, he didn't even own a bed. He slept on the floor still with just a few blankets.

He dropped his keys on the table and hung his coat over the back of one of the chairs after kicking of his shoes by the front door.

Turning the TV on for some background noise he walked over to the couch and settled into the soft cushions. He was exhausted. Not so much physically as mentally.

He tried to focus on whatever was on TV but after a few moments he gave up. With a sigh he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and staring at the greying popcorn ceiling.

The sound of his cellphone ringing made him jolt up and he pulled out the old fashioned flip phone. It was Sam.

"Hey" he answered the phone and Sam's cheerful voice replied from the other end.

"Hey man, just checking in with you - see how things are going."

Bucky rubbed his hand over his forehead. Sam sure did have the uncanny ability to sense when something was going on and to call him right then.

"Ah you know - January in Brooklyn." he answered, trying to sound jovial but his voice betrayed him. On the other end of the line he could practically hear Sam detect it.

"You alright?" Bucky let out a deep sigh.

"Yeah - yeah," he mumbled evasively. He really didn't feel up for a impromptu therapy session with Captain America. But he knew the other man well enough to know he wouldn't let him off the hook. So he gathered himself for a few moments and then told Sam about the episode earlier. After he finished he heard Sam take a deep breath.

"I get it, man, I get it." Sam asserted, "but here's the thing. You can't control what other people think. You can only control who you are and how things affect YOU. When are you seeing your therapist next?"

"I'm not going there anymore." Bucky confessed. "The court doesn't require me to go any longer and I did what you said about giving people closure."

"No. No, no, no", he heard Sam chuckle and then add firmly. "That isn't how this works, man. You don't just work off your little checklist and are good. That was just the beginning. After that you start working on YOURSELF."

Bucky didn't reply immediately so Sam continued after a brief pause.

"Look, I get it. Therapy sucks. But I really think you should go back. If you want a different therapist, I can try and pull some strings with my guys from the VA and get you in with someone else."

Then he heard the voices of Sam's sister nephews in the background and Sarah calling Sam's name. Hearing their voices made him smile. He heard Sam reply, muffled by probably his hand over the microphone before Sam returned to the phone call.

"Hey listen, Sarah is calling me, I gotta go. If you want me to pull some strings just send a message okay?"

And with that Sam hung up and Bucky was left with his thoughts, staring at the phone in his hand for a few minutes.

When he finally snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket he tried focusing on something other than the idea of going back to therapy but he found his thoughts going back to Sam's words on and off throughout the rest of the day.

The following morning he got up before sunrise. He remembered waking up twice during the night, both times from a dream. Not that this was something new. This was his normal still. Even though his nightmares had gotten better he still had them more nights than not.

He angrily threw the blanket on the chair next to the spot where he slept and got up. Maybe a run would help clear his mind.

A few minutes later he closed his apartment door behind him. He was dressed in his running gear and on of it a warm grey sweater and a black knit hat to keep warm.

At first the running gear of this century felt weird to him. The lightweight shoes, the materials of the shirts - it all was vastly different from what he had back in basic training before he went off to war. But he had gotten used to it by now.

While locking his door with his key he was suddenly startled by a loud bang ringing through the hallway from close behind him and he instinctively spun around, ready to fight. He only became aware that he had his hands up in front of his chest, ready to take on any attacker after he realized that it was just his neighbor from down the hall that had just left her own apartment and must have accidentally slammed her door. Letting out a sigh Bucky relaxed his arms, thankful that nobody had seen him overreact like this. The petite young woman with the long dark ponytail posed no threat.

At second glance he saw the two heavy looking duffel bags next to her on the floor while she locked her door. As she tried to pick them up she noticed Bucky.

"Morning!" She greeted him cheerfully and let out a soft groan as she lifted one of the bags and tried to put the strap over her shoulder.

Bucky finally snapped out of his trance.

"Hey - you - you want help with that?" He more mumbled than asked gesturing vaguely at the bags.
She seemed confused by his question as if she hadn't quite understood what he had said and replied with a "Hm?"

"Your bags..." Bucky clarified, louder this time, "They look heavy. Do you want some help carrying them?"

She still looked surprised but then she smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes. That would be great."

Without hesitating Bucky slipped his keys in the pocket of his sweater and walked over to his neighbors door. He took the one bag from her, shouldered the strap and then bent down to pick up the other bag without much effort. He didn't notice the astonished look she gave him when she watched him lift both bags with such ease.

"So you are the new guy in 3C, huh?" She remarked while they made their way to the elevators. She pushed the call button and then turned to him. "I am June by the way."

Bucky set down the duffel bag he carried in his right and shook the hand that she extended towards him.

"Bucky", he introduced himself.

"Bucky", she repeated, giving him a sheepish look, the curiosity in her voice only barely concealed. For a moment he thought she recognized him too, like the kids yesterday and he waited for the same reaction he received the day before. Fear in her eyes her increasing the distance between them but she just stood there with a questioning look in her eyes.

"You named after your grandfather or something?" She asked, hinting at his old fashioned nickname. The range of emotions that played out on his face very much confusing her. Her question interrupted his train of thought, bringing him back to the present.

"Something like that", he replied vaguely. She raised her eyebrows at the tight lipped response. She could take a hint.

"Right." She murmured to herself.

The Bell announced the arrival of the elevator and Bucky - grateful for the interruption of the awkward situation - picked up the bag again and entered the elevator after June, trying not to think about how much he disliked small enclosed spaces. For a few moments the awkward silence persisted. Then June tried to initiate a conversation again.

"It's not far, I parked my car just out front. I hope they are not to heavy?"

"No. It's fine" he assured her. He didn't mean to be tight lipped or sound standoffish. But all he could think about was how much he hated this damn elevator. He should have taken the damn stairs.
She glanced up at him from the side and eyed the tall, tight lipped man with the brooding expression, his clenched jaws and the gaze from his blue eyes that was fixed on the floor indicator above the door like he could will it to move faster.

After what felt like an eternity to Bucky the elevator stopped and the doors rumbled open. Not exactly a trustworthy noise that made Bucky feel better about future trips.

He followed June through the lobby to the entrance. She pushed the heavy door open and held it for him to step out on the sidewalk into the hazy light of dawn. The morning chill stung his face and when he exhaled he could see his breath. Frost had fogged up the windows of the cars parked along the side of the street and glistened in the yellow light of the streetlamps.

"This one is mine" June pointed down the street at an older, dark blue sedan parked a few yards down the road. The brake lights blinked twice as she used the remote to unlock the car and pop the trunk and Bucky hoisted the two bags into the vehicle.

"Thank you! I really appreciate it. I hope I didn't keep you from anything important!" She asked and slammed the trunk shut, The hinges made an awful creaking noise and something rattled underneath the car. The vehicle probably had seen better days. Bucky shook his head no.

"No. I am just going for a run." He replied tilting his head towards the riverfront where he usually went if he wanted to go on a long run. The parks along the East River bank with their meandering paths were perfect for running.

She nodded slowly, looking up at him as if she expected something else, some reaction, some comment, an attempt at making small talk, but she waited in vain.

"Well," she finally spoke up, "thank you again for your help, I really appreciate it." He nodded and gave her a tight lipped smile.

"Any time," he paused and after a moment added "and if you need any more help - let me know."
"Thank you." She replied with a warm smile. "I will see you around then."

Bucky nodded and stepped back up onto the sidewalk. He smiled again awkwardly and then turned and started jogging towards the end of the block.

She watched him for a moment, still slightly befuddled by the odd encounter with her strangely withdrawn neighbor.

"Enjoy your run!" She then called after him. Bucky heard her melodic voice over the sounds of the waking up city and raised his arm to wave at her in response before he turned the corner at the end of the block and picked up the pace with a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

The noise from the busy Brooklyn street was just barely audible over the noise of the TV. Some Baseball game was on on one of the sports channels, but Bucky Barnes didn't pay any attention to it. He just kept it on for background noise.

The commentary and the roars from the crowd mixed with the clacking of the bats felt familiar, reminded him of his childhood and youth, a time when everything was simpler, easier.

Bucky was lounging comfortably on his worn out couch, back against one of the armrests, his legs up on the seat, lost in his new book.

He just recently rediscovered that he in fact did enjoy reading. Sam had recommended he try reading something during his last phone call from Louisiana.

Somehow Bucky mentioning that he read the Hobbit had stuck with Sam and he had mentioned the sequel to him. The Lord of the Rings. So he one day decided to go on a walk to the nearest bookstore and looked for the book.

A knock on the door interrupted him mid sentence and he looked up. The clock on the wall showed almost 5 o'clock. He hadn't even realized how long he had been reading. He hadn't even noticed that it was getting dark outside.

Another knock and he placed his book on the couch next to him.

"A second!" He swung his legs over the side of the couch and walked to the front door, turning on the lights in the dining room and kitchen on the way. He unlatched the deadbolt and safety chain and swung the door open.

"June!" He exclaimed when he saw his neighbor and looked down the hallway to her door, fully expecting another set of heavy duffel bags. "Do you need help?"

"What?" She replied confused, following his gaze down the hallway when she suddenly seemed to remember their first encounter a couple days ago and laughed.

"Oh - no, no. I actually have something for you." She held out an envelope to him and explained "The mailman accidentally put that in my mailbox. I thought it could be important."

Bucky thanked her and took the envelope from her hand. He looked at the sender address and let out a sigh. It was from Dr Raynor's office. Which reminded him that he had an appointment with her in the morning. He was not looking forward to it already.

"Well," she said awkwardly, "I am not gonna keep you any longer. You have a good evening"

June turned to leave and Bucky flinched. He should have said something. She probably thought he couldn't stand her, or that he was a complete weirdo. With the latter she wasn't too far off. He really needed to work on his small talk.

"It was good seeing you, June" he blurted out the first thing that came to mind and flinched then. She turned back around, smiling this time.

"You too, Bucky"

Bucky smiled back and then closed the door. Once the door snapped shut Bucky sighed and sank against the cold door.

The VA hospital on west 23rd was an imposing structure. Eighteen stories high with several wings and smaller additions, a facade of sandy yellow and hundreds of square windows.

The triangular shaped driveway bordered by a low brick wall led up to the main entrance at a steep incline. The covered drop off area and a half round smoking area with blue metal benches looked over the little grass hill with a few scattered trees down to the road.

On the other side of 23rd loomed the dark red brick buildings of Peter-Cooper-Village. The gated community had been just a construction site when Bucky was last here, a project that replaced the old Gas House District to accommodate the influx of people moving into the city after the great depression.
Bucky glanced up at the front of the veterans hospital, the name that was written vertically in big letters on the side of the building. He hadn't been here since he dropped Steve's notebook off at Dr Raynor's office and part of him still couldn't believe that Sam had successfully convinced him to come back.

With a sigh he shoved the hands in his coat pockets and strode up the driveway. He entered the building through one of the large revolving doors and took a long look around. A cafeteria, an information desk, elevators and next to it the directory.

All around him other patients and visitors. He saw young men in uniform sitting wheelchairs, he saw old men with white hair wearing leather jackets or ball caps with insignia that identified them as Veterans of the Korean or the Vietnam war and all the sudden realized these men were children when he himself went off to war. Why it had never occurred to him before was beyond him.

Weaving his way through the crowd Bucky walked over to the stairs. The elevators here looked significantly more trustworthy than the one in his building but still he didn't want to use them.
He took the stairs up to the second floor, encountering a few people who were on the way down. Most of them nodded and smiled at him in passing.

On the second floor he exited the stairwell and followed the directions he had been given by letter and entered the door with the big white sign reading:

Mental Health
Sign In

Bucky didn't feel really comfortable in Dr Raynor's office, he never had and probably never would. That's what he realized sitting on the grey couch, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his sweater.
Not that he felt truly relaxed a lot, he still felt on edge often, sudden loud noises still startled him, made him go into fight mode more times that he liked to admit. And he knew that that was normal for someone with PTSD, at least that was what both Sam and Dr. Raynor told him.

He knew they were right, at least a part of him did. He knew he wasn't just magically healed because he worked off the list in his book. The road ahead of you is still long - Sam's words were still present in his mind.

Consciously trying to relax his tensed up shoulders and his clenched jaw Bucky let his eyes wander across the room. This place was supposed to relax him. The clean clutter free room, the clear lines of the furniture, the photo wallpaper behind the couch he sat on and the view from the room high windows. But it didn't work.

"Why don't we start with what it was that made you decide to come here today", Dr. Raynor finally suggested after several minutes of silence.

"It was Sam's idea", Bucky replied dryly. "He thinks I quit therapy too early."

"Do you agree?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe" he mumbled.

"Do you want to tell me about your week, James?" Dr Raynor now asked him.

'Not particularly' he almost said but he held the words back. She is here to help you, you are here to get better, he reminded herself and sighed.

"I read a lot", he instead answered evasively.

"What did you read?"

"The Lord of the Rings", Bucky mumbled. "Sam recommended it."

Dr Raynor nodded slowly. Making mental notes only. The notebook she had to threaten him with in the beginning was in the drawer since he had started to actually - if reluctantly - work WITH her instead of against her.

"How is Sam?" She asked. Bucky shrugged.

"Busy."

He wouldn't admit it, not in front of the doc, and most certainly not to Sam, but he really missed Louisiana, Sam's family, the community, the acceptance he had experienced there. It was different here, on his own, with strangers.

"Are you seeing any other people?"

Bucky took a deep breath and let it back out with a small groan.

"I met one of my neighbors," His vague reply apparently piked her interest.

"But...?" She inquired further. Bucky grimaced. He knew she wouldn't let him off the hook anymore now. He shouldn't have said anything at all.

"I am not really good with new people." He admitted. Dr Raynor nodded slowly.

"Like with most things in life James, this also becomes easier with practice", she said. Bucky let out a dry scoff. She looked at him inquisitively.

"James, did something happen?" She asked finally. Bucky sighed. He contemplated for a few moments if she should tell her about the park incident, before he actually did. She listened closely and nodded.
"What you were experiencing, James, was a panic attack." She explained. She gave her an angry look.
"I dont get panic attacks", he declared. She nodded understandingly.

"There is no shame in it. It actually is quite normal. When we let go of old patterns and habits that's when we can feel most vulnerable."she elaborated. "You just let go of a lot of your old patterns. That was a big step and that can feel overwhelming."

"I didnt have that in Louisiana", Bucky grumbled stubbornly. Dr. Raynor nodded slowly.

"You had Sam there, these were his people. You knew you could trust them because you trust Sam." She explained. "Here you are on your own with this. The people here are strangers for you. It will take time, James. You made a lot of progress since I saw you the first time, but you still got some work ahead of you."

On his way home from the appointment Bucky took the detour through the park. He was still thinking about what Dr Raynor had said.

He didn't wanna admit it but he didn't regret going to see this therapist. What she had said made sense and her talking about treatment plans and coping strategies weirdly enough made him feel less uneasy.
He rounded the corner to the entrance of his building and sped up when he saw that the door had just been opened and was now slowly closing. He caught the door before it snapped shut but stopped in his tracks once he was inside.

His neighbor June was standing in front of the closed doors of the elevator watching the floor indicator that seemed stuck on the 5th floor.

She heard someone enter behind her and turned to look over her shoulder. When she saw him she smiled.

"Looks like someone blocked it on the fifth" she said pointing at the still glowing 5. "I guess we are taking the stairs."

Bucky nodded. That had been his plan all along but he didn't expect having company for it. He caught up to her and together they started to climb the stairs up to their floor.

"Long day?" He finally asked after a few stairs, when he noticed her slow and tired steps.

She smiled and nodded.

"Yeah." She replied. Maybe it was because she was too tired or because her previous attempts at starting a conversation had been futile, but today she didn't seem to be too talkative.

Frantically searching his mind for something to say he suddenly noticed she was wearing scrubs.
"You are a nurse?" He asked. When she looked at him quizzically he pointed out her scrubs. Again she nodded.

"School nurse, actually. At the public school on Pacific Street."

Bucky remembered the large concrete building from his many walks. It was enormous, 4 stories high and occupied almost half of the street block with a large part of the other half being the schoolyard. Fenced in by a stable 9 feet high black chain link fence and a 7 feet brick wall both with securely locked gates in them it looked a bit more like a prison than a school to him.

"Sounds like a tough job" he mumbled. Probably not the most intelligent comment he thought to him. She paused and looked at him puzzled. He seemed positively chatty by his standards.

"It can be, but I love my job." She admitted. "And I take it you are military?"

He stopped in the middle of the stairs.

"How do you..."

"Your dog-tags"

She pointed at his chest and he looked down and saw that his dog tags had slipped out from under his shirt where he usually wore them. He took them and hid them back under his shirt while they continued their way up to their floor.

"Retired military, actually. Kind of."

"Hmm.... My brother was in the service too," she said quietly.

When she had seen his tags earlier everything suddenly made more sense. His standoffish behavior, his clammed up personality, the brooding expression. She knew enough about post traumatic stress to recognize it.

Her use of past tense made Bucky pause.

"He was..." he interrupted himself. She frowned for a moment before she caught on to what he was trying to ask.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "No. No, is ‘t dead! He he is fine. He lives in Minnesota with his family."

They arrived on the third floor and then after a few more steps in front of Bucky's door. She stopped next to him and looked up to him.

"Been nice chatting with you," she said pensively. For a brief moment he thought she was giving him grief but her smile and voice gave no indication that she meant it anything else but honestly. Then she gave him a brief wave of her hand and walked off towards her own door.

"Yeah" Bucky mumbled, smiling to himself while he opened the door to his apartment. "yeah, it was".

Chapter Text

The bookstore was quiet, so quiet that one could hear the engines and honking of the cars in the streets, the occasional wailing of sirens in the distance and the murmuring of the rain on the pavement over the quiet rustling of pages, the steps of the patrons dulled by the carpet floor and the occasional cough.

The room was small, with high shelves along the long wall and smaller shelves that extended into the room, that left little room to walk. All of them were loaded with books, even on the floors there were books stacked in front of the shelves where they had ran out of room. It smelled of dust, old books and every time the door opened the wind brought in a gust of air that carried with it the scent of rain of the cold spring rain.

Bucky aimlessly wandered from one aisle to the next, picking up a book and putting it back every so often.

He wasn't really looking for anything. He had found this used book store purely by chance when he got caught in the rain during one of his long walks through Brooklyn and decided to seek shelter from the downpour.

The city had changed so much since he last lived here, he found himself wandering the streets exploring them many days and he wasn't even sure why he did it.

"Hey Charlie! How is business?" he heard a familiar voice from the register by the door. Leaning back a bit he peeked around the corner of the shelf that blocked his view of the entrance to confirm. By the register stood June, a large book-bag over her shoulder. Her long brown hair was wet from the rain.

"Hey there, Junebug!" the guy behind the register replied gleefully. "I can't complain. The rain washed in a bunch of people from the street maybe some of them will actually buy something!"

June laughed and Bucky moved back behind the bookshelf just before she turned his way and caught him staring at her.

"You got anything good in recently?" He overheard her ask and the owner answered something, but he didn't pay attention to what he said. Then he heard June say "I'll take a look around" followed by steps coming closer.

He grabbed a random book from the shelf without even looking and opened in a random spot just to appear busy, when out of the corner of his eye he saw her walk past him and then stop in her tracks.

"Bucky?"

He flipped the book shut and turned around to her, forcing a smile.

"Hi!"

"I see you discovered one of the hidden gems of the neighborhood", she pointed out with a hand gesture that pertained the bookstore. Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

"I was just getting out of the rain to be honest," he mumbled quietly. June laughed probably s little louder than intended which made a few people turn their heads their way.

"Did you find anything interesting?" she asked, lowering her voice and pointed at the book in his hand. Bucky looked down at the book and just now noticed what he had hastily grabbed of the shelf. A short history of the American Civil War

"Naw, I was just looking", He shoved the book back into the empty spot it had left when he took it out. "You?"

"That era..." she motioned in the direction of the shelf Bucky had put the book back int, which was full of historical works about the American Civil War, "is not quite my flavor", with that she turned to leave. When he remained motionless where he stood, uncertain if the conversation was over or if she wanted him to come along, she gave him a small motion of the head, indicating to follow her, which he did.

She rummaged through a shelf of travel books about Europe, running her fingers over the backs of a few books and turned then towards a small table full of large scale illustrated books. She picked up a worn one about the complete works of Rembrandt and started flipping through the pages.

Bucky watched her as her slender fingers gently touched the glossy paper, almost in a caressing way. She obviously either loved books, art or both very much.

"Do you like art?" she asked obviously attempting to get a conversation going. Bucky shrugged.

"Some. I don't get the modern stuff."

She chuckled quietly while she put the book down and focused her attention on a different one titled Masterpieces at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She slowly, skimmed through the book, stopping here and there to linger on a picture for a few moments longer, her fingers carefully gliding over the pictures.

"Yeah, me too," she agreed. "I like the old artists better too. Have you been to the Met?"

Bucky shook his head no.

"Not in a long time." He couldn't actually remember when he was there last. He had been there once, he distinctly remembered the large stairs in front of the building and the crowd at the entrance. But everything else became blurry the more he tried to remember the details.

He shook his head as if trying to get rid of the thoughts in his mind.

June closed the book but instead of putting it back on the display table she held on to it.

"You should go some time, they have some wonderful Monet's."

When Bucky didn't reply she turned to him. She cocked her head while looking up at him with an inquisitive look in her brown eyes.

"Do you wanna grab a coffee?"

The question came unexpected and Bucky wavered for a moment. But he had to admit he didn't have any company all week and he actually enjoyed hers.

"Coffee sounds great." he nodded. June seamed pleased by his answer and started heading towards the register with her book.

"You found something, Junebug?" The guy she addressed as Charlie earlier asked, as they approached him.

"Yeah, I actually did." June handed him the book and he rang it up for her on the old fashioned brass register.

"Another one for your collection?" Charlie asked her cheerfully and she replied equally lighthearted, while Bucky stood back and watched the interaction. He noticed the other man giving him a few examining looks.

"Who's the tall quiet one?" Charlie finally inquired while motioning with his chin towards Bucky.

"That's Bucky. He's my neighbor." June replied offhandedly while she paid for the book with her card. Carlie eyed Bucky suspiciously while he absentmindedly handed June her book back that he had put in a blue paper bag with the stores logo on it.

"You look familiar." Charlie stated in Bucky's direction, furrowing his brows and slightly tilting his head, as he unabashedly examined Bucky's face.

"I get that a lot. I guess I just have one of those faces." Bucky grumbled in response, shifting uncomfortably, avoiding Charlie's piercing gaze. The last thing he needed right now was for someone else to recognize him and and that triggering another panic attack.

Panic attack - that's what Dr Raynor and Sam both had called what he experienced in the park that one day. For the longest time he would have refused to even say the words let alone apply them to something that was going on with him.

"Hm, I don't know." The other man said doubtingly. He didn't seem convinced by Bucky's explanation, but at least he didn't press the issue any further. Bucky turned his head away from Charlie, pretending to look at some of the books near him. He could already feel his heart rate go up and his chest tightening.

"Leave him alone Charlie," June urged and Charlie raised both of his hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright!" He exclaimed defensively.

"Thanks Charlie! Gotta run, but I will be back next week, ok?!"

Bucky let out a quiet breath of relief when June bid her farewell to Charlie and opened the door to leave. He held the door for her to go through and followed her.

"And be careful, Junebug!" Charlie called after her with a suspicious side glance at Bucky. Bucky saw it and heard the tone of voice in which it was said and he immediately knew the other man referred to him. June stopped in her tracks and darted an angry look at Charlie over her shoulder.

The door of the bookstore closed behind them and they both stopped under the awning in front of the store. The rain still was coming down strong, the cars splashing in the puddles that collected along the curb.

"Junebug?" he asked teasingly attempting to not give away that Charlies mistrust had unsettled him. She gave him a sheepish look in return.

"That's my nickname from my childhood." she explained. "Charlie and I go way back." Bucky nodded.

"So is he your..." he interrupted himself, leaving the question unfinished. She looked at him with a blank expression for a moment, then she laughed.

"My what? My boyfriend? No! Charlie is gay, couldn't you tell?"

"I didn't really pay attention", Bucky answered vaguely. He really hadn't been able to tell. Back in his time being gay was something people quietly whispered about. It actually was something people hid simply because it was illegal.

"Doesn't look like this rain is gonna stop anytime soon" she remarked after a look at the grey cloudy sky above them. Bucky nodded, glad she had changed subjects. "The bakeshop next door has the best muffins!"

She sprinted the not even fifty feet to the canopy above the front door of the bakeshop and Bucky followed suit but the few seconds in the pouring rain were enough to get them both wet.

June shook her head as drops trickled down the side of her face and Bucky ran his fingers through his wet hair, which made the dark strands stand off in a wild unruly manner.

The bakeshop they entered was a fairly small elongated room with a shop counter running along half of one of the long walls and small tables with chairs along the rest of the walls. Pictures of New York from the beginning of the 20th century in large frames decorated the light grey colored walls, soft music was playing quietly in the background and the smell of fresh coffee and pastries was in the air. A few tables were occupied but mostly the shop was empty.

When the barista behind the counter welcomed them June and Bucky walked up to the counter.

"You like apple cinnamon muffins?" June asked and when Bucky nodded affirmatively she turned to the barista to order.

"Hi, can we have two apple cinnamon muffins, a large Cappuccino and..." her voice trailed off and she gave Bucky an inviting look.

"Black coffee" he ordered. The barista got to work starting Junes Cappuccino and pouring Bucky's black coffee and then put the muffins on a small plate each, before finally placing all of it on a plastic tray. June reached for her purse, but Bucky beat her to it and already had his wallet out.

"I got it", he stated and handed the barista a 20 Dollar note. The Barista took the bill with furrowed brows and shot Bucky a bewildered look before opening the cash drawer and counting out Bucky's change.

"Well aren't you quite the traditionalist", June teased him good-natured hinting at both his choice in coffee and the fact that he paid with cash instead of a card or app like most people would have.

"I am old-fashioned," Bucky replied with a deadpan voice while he put away his change and took their tray.

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that by now," she said with a wink. Bucky gave her a crooked smile.

She led the way to one of the tables by the window and he followed her reluctantly. He would have preferred a seat further in the back. Where he could keep an eye on both the room and the door at once.

Sitting with the back to the door or the room - or worst of all both - made him incredibly uncomfortable. Dr. Raynor once said that was very common in military guys, especially those dealing with trauma, like him. It was something about feeling in control of the situation and the need to be able to spot a possible threat as soon as it entered the room - no matter if there was a legitimate reason to expect a threat or not.

He let his eyes wander over the room, the few other guests and the door and then turned back around to catch June giving him a worried look.

"Why don't you pick a table for us", she suggested gently and Bucky nodded relieved. He led them to a table at the far end of the shop where a long bench ran along the length of the short wall and placed the tray on the tabletop.

June peeled herself out of her wet denim jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before sitting down in the other one, leaving Bucky with the bench from where he could easily overlook the store all the way to the entrance.

"Better?" she asked. Her voice was without snark or mockery as he would have expected from most people.

"Yes, thank you" he replied quietly while he fumbled with paper a napkin from the tray.

"I kind of had a hunch." She replied. Bucky raised his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look. She shrugged with only one shoulder.

"My brother."

"The ex-military guy", Bucky commented, recalling her mentioning him the last time they met.

"Yeah, the ex-military guy.” June chuckled but then became suddenly serious. “He - he does that too. He can't sit with his back to the door."

“My therapist says it is from PTSD.”

There it was. The acronym that Dr. Raynor had used and it felt like it stood there in the middle of the room staring at him. So far, he had successfully avoided to use the term himself, but here it was, spoken not by a professional therapist, not by Sam who knew him better than anyone. No, he blurted it out himself to someone who was practically a stranger. But she didn't seem surprised, just nodded softly.

“Yeah, a lot of military guys have PTSD, I kind of figured.”

"Is it that obvious?" he asked uncomfortably. June took her coffee and one of the muffins off the tray and then carefully pushed the tray with his coffee and muffin towards him. Bucky, leaning with his forearms on the table, reached for tray and pulled it towards himself. June shook her head in response to his question.

“No. Only if you know what you are looking for. You told me you were ex-military and when you started scanning the room…” she didn’t finish her sentence, she didn’t have to.

Instead she broke a piece off her muffin and put it in her mouth before wrapping her hands around her cup of cappuccino to warm them. When the silence lingered she glanced up at him and seemed to pick up on his discomfort.

"There's no shame in having PTSD", she said. Bucky looked up at her, surprised that she used exactly the same words as Dr. Raynor.

"That's what people keep telling me." He murmured and then took a sip of his coffee. It was hot and strong how he liked it.

"Nobody thinks less of you for it. And you are not alone with this either." She assured him. "There is many guys out there who go through the same. They probably experienced the same things you did."

"THAT I seriously doubt", Bucky replied with a icy voice that made June raise her eyebrows in surprise. When he looked up and met Junes questioning gaze he added: "My missions were - very - specialized." He kept his explanation as unspecific as he could, trying not to give away any detail that could identify him and she didn't press the issue any further.

"Either way - you might think you are the only one this is happening to - but you are not. It took my brother a while to come to grips with that too."

"Did you give him this talk too?" Bucky asked, glad he found an opportunity to change the subject away from himself.

"No. I was in college when he came back home. He was lucky to have a good friend who was there for him back then. But I am quite familiar with the subject now." She replied with a sad look on her face that didn't go unnoticed by Bucky.

"So now you are helping the broken stranger from across the hall instead?" he inquired and leaned back on the bench, as if to distance himself from her. He had opened up to her briefly - the first time he had in a very long time and now he started to regret it already. The last thing he wanted was to be her charity project.

June immediately picked up on the change in his demeanor and seemed to instantly catch on to his train of thought, when she realized how this must have sounded to him.

“No,” She exclaimed and then added with a mischievous smirk on her lips and shook her head. “Nothing of the kind. For some weird reason I just actually like you."

“You barely know me", Bucky commented with a deadpan voice. June shrugged it off and casually retorted:

“We can change that. You up for a little Q and A?”

Bucky made and uncertain noise. Last time that kind of thing didn’t go too well. He still cringed when he thought about the disastrous date with Leah from the Sushi place. That date probably was the most uncomfortable situation he had ever found himself in and he absolutely had no desire to repeat it.

He still regretted letting himself get talked into ever going on that date but somehow had felt like he had no say in it at all at that time. So, he had gone along with it and had found himself looking forward to it eventually – until Leah had started with the question game that had ended with him storming off and making things awkward. Ever since then he had tried to avoid situations like these.

June however either ignored or didn’t notice his hesitation and instead started to ask the first question.

“Let’s get the obvious one out of the way. Blipped or not?”

Bucky who had just shoved a big piece of his muffin in his mouth let out a quiet sigh. Looked like he wasn’t getting out of this one either. He simply nodded as an answer.

“Yeah, me too. Your turn.”

Bucky chewed way longer on his muffin that necessary, trying to buy himself some time. He racked his brain but couldn’t for the life of him think of anything even remotely interesting to ask her. He knew eventually he had to come up with something and went for the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Favorite color?” he finally mumbled. It was literally the only think he could think of at the moment.

“Favorite color?” June echoed in disbelief, “Are you serious?”

“I never said I was good at this.” he countered dryly still somewhat hoping he could discourage her from continuing this. June laughed in a low voice.

“Alright, purple. Yours?” Damn it he hadn’t thought this through. Of course, he would have to answer for himself too.

“Blue. I think...” He didn’t really have a favorite color. Did he use to have one when he still was himself? He couldn’t remember.

“Favorite movie?” June fired back immediately. Bucky flinched. This could go sideways really quickly. He hadn’t watched a movie in a theater since god knows when. The movies he caught on TV were reruns of the ones he remembered from his youth. He couldn’t even remember the last time he went out to see a movie.

What was the last movie he watched? What's the last one he could remember seeing? He tried to recall the old movie place a few blocks down the road from where he had lived. He used to take girls there on dates a lot. The guy at the ticket booth was a friend from school who sometimes would let him in for free...

“Casablanca!” he almost shouted when it suddenly came back to him. The cold winter night, snowflakes swirling in the light of the streetlamp, the movie poster behind the glass window in the brick wall of the theatre. The girl he was going with back then had dark curly hair. She wore a blue coat and a perky little read hat.

“You DO like the classics alright”, June pondered. “Mine is A Roman Holiday. Anything with Audrey Hepburn really.”

Bucky nodded trying to give away that he didn’t have the slightest clue who she was talking about. But he made a mental note of the name and promised himself he would find out later.

“Favorite food?” he asked.

“Like in favorite dish or favorite kind of food like – Thai or Mexican?” she countered, while stirring her cappuccino

Bucky contemplated for a moment and decided the vaguer the better.

“What kind then - I guess....”

“Then definitely Italian. Italian food is going to be my downfall. I swear...” she sounded very dramatic, in a facetious way though that made him chuckle quietly.

“What’s yours?”

“I very recently discovered Sushi,” he replied, his thoughts once more returning to Izzy’s, the sushi place he went to so many times with Yori.

He missed Yori and Sushi. He missed Izzy’s Sushi in particular. But he no longer had a place there. Neither Yori or Leah would ever ask him to leave of course. Both of them were way too kind to do that. But he knew it would make things awkward and the least he could do was leave this space to them.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed her next question.

“Favorite toy as a kid.”

Bucky groaned inwardly. He didn’t have a lot of toys as a child. He grew up in the twenties and early thirties. His childhood years were the years before the depression. The Wall Street Crash of Black Friday had happened when he was twelve. He’d never had a lot of toys to begin with. Back then they played hopscotch in the courtyards. A Baseball and a bat his father had made him. A wooden horse and carriage with little logs to load on the carriage.

Logs! Suddenly he remembered. Small square-notched lightweight logs, the instructions to make the cabin President Lincoln grew up in. The countless forts and houses he had built with the set, sometimes with Steve, sometimes by himself on the kitchen floor, his mother grumbling when she almost stepped on one of them.

“Lincoln logs”, he mumbled pensively, a melancholic smile creeping on his face.

“Lincoln logs”, he repeated louder this time. June furrowed her brows.

“Really? No He-Man, no G.I. Joe? No Transformers toys?”

Bucky shook his head no. He had no idea what any of this meant.

“What about yours?”

“Electronic Dream Phone.” June’s answer came quick as a shot.

“Dream Phone?” he echoed. June nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Don't you remember the commercials? With the pink phone and all the cards of the different boys and you had to figure out which of them had a crush on you?”

Bucky gave her a confused look and silently shook his head. This probably was the weirdest thing he had ever heard of and that meant something.

“Well, my friend Britney had it and I begged my parents to buy it for me. My dad finally gave in and my mom was furious. She called it sexist garbage. But I loved it.”

“Huh”, Bucky replied. He wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

“Looking back my mom was right. It WAS sexist garbage....” June mused. Bucky nodded. He wouldn’t know he never even heard of that game. But it sounded positively awful.

A quick nod from her reminded him it was his turn again. Letting his eyes wander around the room for an idea his eyes fell on the plastic bag on the chair next to her that contained the book she had just purchased next door.

“Favorite book. Other than illustrated books about art.” Bucky pointed vaguely at the bag.

“That’s a mean one. How am I supposed to pick just ONE book? That’s like asking someone to pick their favorite child”, she protested facetiously, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Bucky smiled to himself. She was funny. It had been a while since someone made him laugh. It was an unfamiliar sensation, albeit not an unpleasant one.

“I don’t make the rules” he replied still smiling which earned him another playfully angry look from June.

“Fine. Anne of Green Gables.” She finally relented.

That title rang a bell for Bucky. His sister Rebecca used to have the whole series and he remembered her reading the books over and over. Books was the one thing his father was willing to spend money on where he otherwise was a strict penny pincher.

He remembered himself and Rebecca fighting over the best spot by the window to read during winter, when it was too cold outside to find a spot on the fire stairs or in the courtyard of the building. He remembered the shelf space each of them had allotted for their books, on the shelf in the living room, Rebecca’s books on the left, his on the right.

He made a surprised noise at the memories that suddenly came flowing back into his mind like someone had opened a floodgate. This little game of getting to know each other quickly started to turn into a getting to know yourself for him.

“My sister really loved those”, he said under his breath.

“What is your favorite?” He didn’t have to wait long for June to ask him back and it took even less time for him to answer this one:

“The Time Machine. H.G. Wells. Or something by Jules Verne.”

“You really are a fellow nerd!” June happily exclaimed, obviously pleasantly surprised by the discovery. Bucky wasn’t quite sure what a nerd was – another thing he would have to look up later – but from her reaction he gathered that it couldn’t be anything bad.

She gave him a wink, a twinkle in her pretty hazel eyes.

“I have a feeling we will get along nicely.”

Night had fallen over the streets of Brooklyn, traffic had calmed down from the busy rush hour bustle to the regular trickling of cars on a weekday evening and on the sidewalks there were only a few people walking.

The rain had stopped a while ago and left the air crisp and clean like the air in New York only was after a strong rain. The pavements were still wet and the streetlights were reflecting blurry in the slick black surface.

Bucky and June were slowly walking past the closed shops and lit storefronts of Vanderbilt Avenue. They had stayed at the bakeshop, talking for hours until the owner had started cleaning the counters and turned off the music when his closing time rolled around.

A block down they had picked up some Thai food to go from a small restaurant and now they were on the way back to their building.

Neither of them was talking, while they were strolling down the almost empty sidewalk, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable or awkward.

They passed Grand Army Plaza at the northeast corner of Prospect Park, with its asymmetrical oval streets and Bailey fountain, the waters gurgling in the night, mixing with the rustling of the trees in the brisk spring wind.

The Soldiers and Sailors Arch in the middle of the plaza loomed big and imposing in the distance, the grey stone and the blackened brass statues on its sides illuminated by spotlights, the quadriga on top - the the goddess of victory in her carriage drawn by 4 horses - outlined like a paper cut silhouette against the night sky, that never turned darker than a deep navy blue in the city.

They turned on their street, making their way past the public buildings along the traffic oval into the residential area, passing the row houses with their brick facades and stone front stairs all the way to their apartment building up to their floor.

They were at the top of the stairs when Bucky's phone rang. He pulled the flip phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller. It was Sam. With a small sigh he picked up and greeted his friend.

"Hey, man, can you hold on for a minute?" Without even waiting for Sam's answer he muted the call and turned to June with an apologizing look.

"I'm sorry. It's probably important." he explained. June nodded in response.

"I have to get going anyway," she replied. "I got an early morning tomorrow." Just now Bucky remembered that it was Tuesday and tomorrow was actually a normal workday for her.

"I'll see you around then", he replied and she nodded with a smile and turned to leave.

Bucky pushed the unmute button, raised the phone to his ear with his left arm and was ready to take Sam's call when June turned back around.

"Good night, Bucky. I had fun today", she said quietly and with that she came up to him and gave him a light hug with one arm.

Bucky was so taken aback that he stood in the hallway in front of his door following her with his eyes for a couple seconds as she walked towards her own front door, until he suddenly remembered the phone in his hand. With the other he fumbled for his keys, unlocked his front door and entered his apartment.

"Hey, what's up?" he finally asked into the phone, after closing the door behind him and switching on the lights, only to be met by Sam's voice booming over the phone:

"Good night, Bucky, I had fun today?"

Bucky put the bag with the takeout containers on his dining table and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, exhaling loudly.

"Hi, how are you doing, Bucky? I am good, Sam, thank you for asking. How are you?" Bucky replied sarcastically while he walked to his fridge opened the door to grab a drink and then gave the door a push so it fell shut. He heard Sam chuckle at the other end of the line.

"No, no, no, no, you are not getting away that easy, man. That was a girl I heard there," Sam insisted.

"That was my neighbor, June," Bucky explained, while he opened his soda can, hoping Sam would drop it, but he was swiftly disappointed when Sam immediately started to dig deeper.

"June, huh? She your girl?"

"She's a friend", Bucky replied slowly growing impatient with the other man.

"A friend..." Sam echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn't buy it. Bucky took a sip from his soda and slammed the can back on the counter.

"Was there actually something you were calling about?" Bucky snapped irritated which made Sam on the other end of the line chuckle again.

"Yes, there was," he replied half laughing, "but this is way more fun."

Bucky ran his hand over his face in defeat, resigning himself to the fact that Sam would never let him hear the end of this, when Sam's tone of voice suddenly changed.

"Seriously though. It's great that you are making friends. But I need your help, there was an incident..."

Chapter Text

With a groan Bucky raised his arm to unlock the small brass door of his mailbox.

His shoulder hurt like he had been kicked by a horse and he probably had a bunch of nasty bruises on his ribs.

The ‘incident' Sam had mentioned on the phone and had refused to go into further detail about had led them both to the other side of the world the war-torn country of Uruzgan.

The international community had sent humanitarian help to the area long before the blip, trying to help the region with medical help, food and assistance in rebuilding while simultaneously trying to pacify the country by bringing in emissaries for peace talks between the rivaling tribes.

Before Thanos the peace process had seemed promising but both the disappearance and return of half of the population had caused each side to accuse the other of being responsible. No talks had been able to convince either tribal leaders that the whole thing was to blame on some alien forces and that the other side was as much a victim as they were.

Now on top of the existing ongoing hostilities the world wide shortages of goods added on to the problems.

The incident itself was a hostage situation. A splinter group breaking away from one of the tribes, blaming the foreign helpers for all the problems, accusing them of causing the shortages on purpose.
The splinter group ended up taking several foreign aid workers hostage and holding them somewhere in the mountains threatening to kill one each day the foreigners keep food and medicine from them.

Since several of the nurses and doctors captured were American, but the American government itself wasn’t willing to send in official troops in fear of escalating the situation further Sam was called to fix the situation under the radar. And that's what they did.

They managed to get all the hostages out alive and relatively unharmed although they both got banged up pretty good in the process.

Sam took a pretty hard tumble at some point and Bucky himself knocked through three walls of the mud brick buildings the kidnappers had been hiding in by an explosion. If it wasn’t for the super soldier serum he probably would be dead.

He grabbed the three envelopes, locked the brass door of his mailbox and then turned when the chime of the elevator announced the arrival of the cabin, followed by a familiar laugh. From the elevator emerged June accompanied by another woman. Both of them were dressed up to go out.

“Bucky!” June exclaimed happily, when she saw Bucky. The other girl, a striking redead, looked him up and down from a distance, while June walked over to Bucky.

Her long brown hair that she usually wore in a ponytail fell wavy down beyond her shoulders. The make up she put on made her look completely different, Bucky thought to himself but the short black dress she was wearing was very flattering.

“That's Stephanie”, she gestured towards the blonde who was standing by the door.

"Stephanie, that's Bucky.”

“Hi.” Bucky greeted the other woman with a wave of his hand towards her, but she just looked at Bucky in a standoffish way and nodded at him, making no attempt to come closer or join the conversation.

“What have you been up to?” she asked cheerfully.

“Just some stuff I had to take care of,” Bucky replied evasively. “You going out?”

“Yeah a few girls from work are meeting at a club.” She replied.

Bucky tried imagining her at club, laughing and dancing with her friends.

“Come on, June! Our Uber is here!” the redhead suddenly interrupted. June slipped on the coat she had been carrying over her arm and nodded.

“I gotta run,” she said in Bucky's direction while taking a few steps towards the front door where her friend waited. Then June stopped in her track.

“Hey- I was thinking about going to the Met Sunday, do you wanna come?” she asked.

Bucky was taken by surprise by the question.

“Um… yeah,” he replied.

“June! The Uber!” her friend urged while her foot was tapping impatiently on the tile floor. June gave her a short hand signal, indicating that she had heard.

“Great! 10 sound good?” she asked Bucky. Bucky nodded in response. She smiled seemingly happy with the answer and then waved goodbye.

“See you Sunday then!”

With that she turned around and finally followed her friend through the heavy glass door.
“Who is this guy?” the redhead asked on the way out.

“Bucky? He's a friend”, he heard June reply before the door closed behind them.

Bucky smiled. He took the content of his mailbox and absentmindedly flipped through the envelopes he had found in his mailbox while he walked up the stairs to his floor. The fact that June had called him her friend had definitely brightened his day.

Chapter Text

Sunday morning came and Bucky picked June up at exactly 9:59, which earned him a few teasing words from June about military guys and their punctuality.

They rode the subway into Manhattan, the 4 line, that took them all the way from Grand Army Plaza not far from their apartment building to 86th street in Manhattan, just a few blocks from the Museum.
The spring day was sunny and warm enough so instead of hailing a cab they walked the rest of the way.
June seemed excited about the museum visit and talked about the exhibits she wanted to visit the most and asked Bucky if he had any artists he wanted to see and if he liked the Egyptian collection.

As soon as they turned on 5th Avenue the contrast between the two sides of the street was stark. On one side of the street the high buildings of the Upper East Side with the posh apartments where the rich and famous lived and on the other side of the street Central Park with its high trees, that now in March were still bare.

Bucky remembered Central Park from before he went to war. He would rent row boats on sunny summer weekends for the girl he was going with at the time.

He would row them around on The Lake, past the meandering paths where other couples were walking and ducks would be swimming past them, to the famous Bow Bridge where the trees and the distant skyline of the buildings on 8th avenue would reflect in the surface of the lake when the wind was calm.
He remembered the smiles of the girls he had taken there, their Sunday dresses, gloved hands that held a white straw hat pressed on top of copper red curls, so the wind wouldn't blow the hat away, a bright smile on cherry red lips.

Bucky shook his head as if to force the memories out. He wouldn't go there. He would not be dwelling in memories of a life and a time that was long gone.

"You okay?"

Junes voice almost startled him and he turned his head to see that she looked at him questioningly. He had completely stopped paying attention to what she had been saying and hadn't even noticed that they both had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

People brushed past them and they both took a step to the side to get out of the way. Bucky leaned against the stone wall separating the park from the sidewalk, running his hands over his face with a sigh. June knitted her brows when she cautiously eyed his suddenly pale face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." June said, her voice revealing that his reaction had unsettled her. Bucky gently shook his head and stared at the pavement in front of him, avoiding her gaze.

"Just a memory from – from a different life", he replied evasively.

"The way you say that it sounds like that was a hundred years ago", June commented and Bucky let out a dry scoff.

"Almost", he answered sharply, regretting his acerbic ton of voice the moment the word left his mouth. He looked up at her and exhaled deeply. “Sorry.”

June gave him an unsure look.

"Hey, if you are not feeling up to this..." she started, but Bucky interrupted her.

"No! No.” She gave him an uncertain look and Bucky cleared his throat trying to steady his voice. “Of course we go. This was supposed to be fun, right?" he asked. June nodded uncertainly, not quite convinced by his sudden change of heart.

"Then we will have fun." Bucky added. She still looked at him, hesitating, but after a moment she nodded.

"Alright" June replied, picking up on his attempt to brighten the mood. She linked her arm with his right arm and announced deliberately lighthearted, "Fun it is."

With that she gently pulled him with her towards the large structure that slowly became visible behind the leafless trees.

The Metropolitan museum was housed by a expansive complex of interlinked buildings and additions. In summer the sprawling front staircase that led up to the entrance was popular with tourists and locals alike, who often sat on the steps watching one of the many street performers who came here and food trucks offered drinks and snacks from the curb year-round.

The famous yellow cabs stopped at the side of the road to let passengers get out in a continuous stream.

June and Bucky joined the flow of people entering the museum. June insisted on paying admission for the both of them and excitedly pulled him with her to the Egyptian exhibition.

At first Bucky felt uneasy in the crowd, worried that someone would recognize him and doubt crept up on him if it was such a good idea to come here in the first place. But a few self conscious looks around showed him that nobody here paid any attention to the other museum goers. Everyone was preoccupied with the displays and the audio guides, nobody even seemed to notice him.

June did her part to distract him. Bucky wasn't sure if she did it on purpose, to relax him, or if it was just her excitement taking over, and he honestly didn't care. He just went with it.

She pointed out certain artifacts, that either held special significance in the exhibition or were just personal favorites of hers, throwing in some facts about ancient Egypt, their religion and practices.

"Where did you learn all that stuff?" Bucky finally asked astonished, after she got done explaining how the hieroglyphics always faced towards the door when written around a door frame in temples and graves and that hieroglyphics always were read the opposite direction the pictures faced.

"I don't know. I've been a bookworm all my life and for some reason my brain retains the most random things from them." she shrugged.

"That's pretty cool", Bucky commented but she waved it off.

"It really does nothing for me but occasionally impress someone." She replied and then added: "I call it my useless super-power. What's yours?"

Bucky felt himself tense up.

"My what?" he replied.

"Your useless super power", she explained. Bucky shrugged, not sure how to answer that question.

"I don't know." He finally murmured, "Finding trouble?" June gave him a quizzical look.

"That sounds more like curse to me", she replied while furrowing her brows.

"You have no idea," Bucky mumbled quietly to himself and then added louder: "Speaking of curses, tell me about the curse of the mummy."

June chuckled.

"That's not actually a thing," she said. "That was all made up by the newspapers back then."

"So there is no cursed artifacts in here?"

"No, not really." June replied. "But come, I want to show you one of my favorites."

She led the way into another room. like the ones before the walls were plain and white and the artifacts where neatly displayed in glass cases along the walls. bright light flooded in through some milk glass windows near the high ceiling of the room.

She passed the large display cases with some beautiful wooden chests with ivory inlays to a small display case alongside the far wall that held the small blue statue of a hippo.

"This is a personal favorite of mine. William the hippo. He is the unofficial mascot of the Met. He is 4000 years old and has been in the Museum since 1917."

"1917." Bucky repeated, the mention of the year of his birth making him feel weird. He knew of course that it was a coincidence, or was it not?

He looked at the small blue hippo in its glass box on a wooden pedestal, the black line drawings of lotus flowers on his sides and head, the face that looked strangely melancholic.

"He looks sad", Bucky commented. June stared at him with a surprised look in her eyes.

"He kinda does." Her reply sounded astonished, as if she had never noticed until now. he looked at her as she tilted her head to one side a bit as if to see better while she wrinkled her eyebrows and studied the blue statue intently.

"Maybe he is sad because his world is gone and he feels weird in our time. He is 4000 years old after all." She eventually mused thoughtfully.

Bucky felt himself tense up at those words. He eyed her suspiciously, wondering if she knew his real identity and this was just her way of testing his reaction. But she didn't even look at him, she seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort, still closely examining the small blue hippo with the sad eyes. He told himself to calm down and that he was imagining things.

"I think he is adorable though." June pondered. "He reminds me of you."

"Me!" Bucky exclaimed louder than he had intended and a few people standing nearby turned in surprise to look at him. Abashedly he cleared his throat and look away. June smiled quietly to herself, clearly amused.

"Yeah, you," she confirmed still smiling but then her face and tone of voice became serious. "You have that same sad look sometimes."

"You had me worried there for a moment where you are going with this." Bucky replied with a deadpan voice tilting his head. She looked up at him, his expressionless face - seemingly confused for a moment. Then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch and started laughing. Bucky smiled as she gave him a friendly nudge with her elbow.

"My god, you just made a joke!" She stated almost in disbelief.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. He used to be known for cracking jokes, back in the day, in another lifetime, before his experiences had turned him cynical.

"Yeah well…” he replied with a smirk still on his lips. June winked.

"You should do that more often." She mused as they continued their way through the exhibition.
They strolled through other areas of the exhibition with gigantic stone statues of pharaohs and gods, painted sarcophaguses, ancient pottery and delicate jewelry made from gold and gems.

After a few rooms they finally rounded a corner stepped through a door into a large open room and Bucky gasped.

The room was huge, several stories high, with concrete walls on three sides. The fourth was one huge window front that let in a ton of light and opened up the view on the trees in the park. But that wasn't the impressive part. The impressive thing about the room was the full sized Egyptian temple it held, elevated on a pedestal in the middle of the room surrounded by an artificial lake that had Lotus plants growing in the water.

"Wow!" Bucky blurted out.

June looked up to him and smiled. "Pretty impressive, isn't it?" Bucky nodded.

"How did they get this in here? It must weigh tons!"

"Back in the 60s when Egypt built the Aswan dam a lot of temples were at risk to be swallowed by the water. So - many of them were moved. They cut them in blocks, numbered the pieces and moved them and put it back together like a big puzzle."

"Another useless superpower fact?" Bucky teased.

"No," she chuckled. "My dad explained it to me the first time I came here and saw it."

"When was that?" Bucky asked as they slowly rounded the water feature separating them from the temple to the stairs that allowed access to the platform that housed the large stone structure.

"I must have been 11 maybe. We moved here when I was 10. My dad brought me here a few months after we got settled in."

"So you didn't grow up in New York." Bucky remarked. She shook her head no.

"Garvey, Iowa," she replied. Bucky looked at her from the side. She had sounded a bit sullen when she spoke the name.

"Sounds cozy", he said ambiguously. June shrugged.

"Yeah – mostly." She dragged her words a bit when she spoke, like she was still thinking about the words while she already said them. "I have good memories of my childhood. But I went back as a young adult I was glad I got out when I did." She gestured towards one of the benches in front of the temple and they strolled over and sat down, looking at the temple.

"So you didn't like it?" Bucky finally inquired. June shook her head.

"It just didn't fit me anymore. I always wanted to see the world."

"And did you?" he asked.

"Some of it. How about you?" June nodded and then returned his question.

"I shipped off to war at 26." Bucky replied. Not sure how to even remotely describe what came after in a way that didn't give everything away he struggled to find the right words.

June looked at him cautiously wondering what the meaning of his reaction was.

"I have been to many countries since. But it was always for missions. Never for fun." Once he said the words he realized how true it was even for now, that he escaped the fangs of Hydra. Germany, Madripoor, Latvia – even Wakanda. He never really traveled anywhere for recreation.

They sat by the temple for a while, then the moved on from the ancient Egyptian art to the more recent artists.

June hadn't exaggerated. The Met possessed a quite a few very beautiful paintings by Monet. Bucky liked them, the palette of colors, the way the artist had captured the light.
But that was nothing compared to the paintings by van Gogh. The raw emotion in the bold brush strokes, the melancholy, all the feelings they conveyed were almost palpable and it surprisingly touched him.

"These – these are astonishing." He quietly said while solemnly staring at the painting of a peasant woman cooking by a fire, taking in the details, the colors.

"Yes," she replied thoughtfully. "They are pretty awesome. "

The slowly moved along towards another of Vincent's paintings. A self portrait of the artist wearing a blue coat and a yellow straw hat.

"There is so much..." Bucky started and then interrupted himself as if he couldn't find the right words.

"Yeah..." June just quietly responded. Bucky gave her a quick glance, that she returned, and nodded. She knew what he meant.

Later on when the took a break from the artwork and bustling of the other visitors on the rooftop terrace overlooking the park, each of them a drink in hand, that they had purchased at the restaurant one floor below, somehow the topic returned to Van Gogh and his paintings.

"You got any useless superpower facts about him too?" Bucky asked teasingly. June gave him a pretend dirty look and then laughed.

"As a matter of fact I do." She declared triumphantly.

"The story that he cut his own ear off in a psychotic break might not be true. Some people think it was his roommate Gaugin who cut it off during a fight."

"The painter?" Bucky exclaimed.

"The painter", June confirmed. "The one with the Tahitian women we saw, yes."

"So he wasn't insane after all?"

"Oh he was ill." June paused for a moment before continuing explaining: "He was probably bipolar, maybe schizophrenic, had epilepsy and a substance abuse problem. He was a tortured soul."

"A tortured soul." Bucky repeated thoughtfully. "You can tell from the pictures. I like them."

June glanced at him from the side for a moment and Bucky caught her eye. She didn't look too surprised that he had taken a liking to the artists work and for a moment Bucky wondered if that was how she saw him too. A tortured soul.

June finished her drink and tossed the plastic cup in a nearby trashcan.

"Ready to go back in?"she asked gesturing at the empty cup in Bucky's hand. He nodded and pushed himself off from the wide stone railing he had been leaning against.

"Can we swing by the van Goghs again?"

They returned to the impressionists, taking some time to look at van Gogh's paintings again and then finished their tour through a different part of the museum, as it was getting late. The left a little before the rush at closing time, to avoid the crowd at the exit and walked back to the nearest subway station.
The subway car was too full to comfortably talk so they spent the ride in silence until they got off at their stop, only exchanging looks occasionally.

Hands in the pockets of his jacket Bucky closed his fingers around the little package, wrapped in paper. He had snuck away in the gift shop while June looked at some books to purchase it unbeknownst to her.

While he and June were on the way home the streetlights came on as night slowly started to creep in. In their building he walked her to her own apartment and waited until she had the front door unlocked and turned to him to say goodbye.

"I hope you don't mind, but I bought something for you", he said sheepishly, before she got a chance to say goodnight.

She looked surprised and a little suspicious. When he pulled the little paper wrapped package from the pocked of his jacket and handed it to her.

She loosened the paper carefully and gently unwrapped the object. When she pulled the rustling brown paper away he saw her face light up and she let out a small gasp when she saw the fayence blue figurine.

"William!" she exclaimed excitedly "Oh Bucky, he is adorable! But you shouldn't have!" with that she clutched the replica of the famous little blue hippo in her hands and pressed it to her face as to give him a hug.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Her reaction was what he hoped for and at the same time her enthusiasm made him feel a little awkward.

"I - I just wanted to say thank you. For – for bringing me along. For – making me go out there." He stammered. June smiled and then nodded understandingly.

"I am glad you came. It's not often that I find someone who can handle my rambling." She answered, gently running one of her fingers along the back of the little statue.

"I don't think you ramble." Bucky replied. June smiled and then said with a wink:
"You say that now. You might change your mind about that soon."

Bucky smiled.

"I think I'll take my chances."

Chapter Text

The unmistakable voice of Bing Crosby sounded through the Brooklyn apartment, accompanied by trumpets and piano, the noise from the streets outside fading into the background that one could barely tell anymore it was there.

Mixed in with the old-fashioned harmonies were the sounds of Bucky rummaging through the bare shelves of his refrigerator looking for something else than a few cans of soda and a half empty carton of eggs.

With a frustrated groan he slammed the door of the fridge shut. The force of his vibranium arm made the kitchen shelves rattle, as he rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh. If he wanted to eat anything tonight, he would have to get out and buy something.

He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and left his apartment. He was still in the process of locking the deadbolt of his door when he heard the familiar chime of the elevator.

Bucky turned around and noticed a little shocked the happy jump his heart gave when he saw it was June.

“Hey there!” she greeted him jovially.

“Hey!” Bucky replied with a sheepish grin. As always, he was happy to see her. He had gotten used to her company, to running into her in the hallway, to seeing her smile. He liked talking to her and her seemingly unwavering cheerfulness.

“What are you up to?” June asked. Bucky shrugged.

“I guess getting some takeout. I have nothing to eat.”

“Well… if you don’t feel like crappy takeout, I am making pasta alla Mamma Sofia,” June said casually. Bucky frowned.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked.

“Yes, I am inviting you over for dinner.” She chuckled, slightly shaking her head in disbelief. Sometimes she just couldn’t figure him out. His behavior occasionally was so odd that she caught herself wondering if he escaped some kind of cult and this was his version of Rumspringa.

“Unless of course you don’t want to...”

“NO!” he exclaimed. “No, that – that would be great! Really.” he assured her. “What do you want me to bring?”

“Just your cheerful self", she replied. Bucky let out a small chuckle. June smirked.

“Careful there,” she said teasingly. “You almost smiled. See you at seven?”

Bucky nodded. June picked up her grocery bags and turned to leave when she stopped mid motion.

“You know what? Get us some wine. White. Something Italian. The Bodega over on 7th has a pretty good selection.” she suggested.

“Alright”, Bucky nodded.

“Alright”, she repeated with a wink.

At seven pm sharp he knocked at her door, and she opened within seconds, as if she had either predicted or awaited his arrival. She swung the door wide open and welcomed him in with an inviting gesture.

Her place was the downright opposite of his. There was a big cozy couch in the living room, cluttered with pillows and blankets folded over the armrest, a table with some plants by the window, and a very large bookshelf loaded with books and knickknacks right next to him by the door.

Near the kitchen there was a round wooden dining table with 4 matching chairs around it and in the kitchen, there were utensils and ingredients strewn about, while steam rose from the pots on the stove.

"Welcome!", she said pushing the door shut. Bucky handed her the paper bag with the bottle of wine he had bought at the bodega. Curious she pulled the bottle out of the brown bag and looked at the label.

“Ooh! A Trebbiano! Sweet.” she excitedly exclaimed, and Bucky secretly let out a quiet sigh. The old man at the Bodega had helped him pick out the bottle, but he himself had no idea if his choice was any good.

“Make yourself home, I will be back in a few” she added and before Bucky could reply she rushed back into the kitchen. Bucky heard the fridge open, her placing the bottle inside and the noises of her going back to cooking.

He stepped closer to the bookshelf and let his eyes wander over the books and mementos. Besides a small selection of novels, he could see large sized illustrated books about art, language books and dictionaries and an impressive collection of travel guide books.

Souvenirs from various countries and cities around the world decorated the shelves, a snow globe of the Swiss alps, a small metal model of the Eiffel Tower, a plaster model of Big Ben in London were just a few he could make out.

A few framed pictures completed the collection. June in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, June in a Sundress, her skin tanned from the summer sun, in the Coliseum.

Bucky noticed the man standing next to her in the picture, a tall handsome man that had his arm around June’s shoulders and he wondered if this was the brother she had talked about.

"Is that all keepsakes from your travels?" Bucky asked to chase away the silence. She looked over to him and he pointed at the bookshelf. She shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah. As you can see, I used to be quite the adventurer." Bucky smiled, while June continued stirring the pots and the stove and adding ingredients.

"Can I give you a hand in the kitchen or something?" he then asked, still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. She shook her head no and pointed vaguely in the direction of her living room.

"No, just make yourself comfortable!"

"Right..." Bucky nodded, hands still shoved deep into the pockets of his sweater. He took another look around while slowly walking over to the couch and then settling into the soft cushions. The TV was quietly playing some rock concert and Bucky leaned back trying to make out the music.

He was startled when out of nowhere a small black cat jumped on the couch next to him and slowly approached him. He eyed the feline for a moment while it inched closer and closer to him and finally apprehensively lifted his arm when it zeroed in on him.

The little black cat with the green eyes softly meowed and then rubbed his head on Bucky’s metal arm and started purring. He gave the animal a little scratch behind the ears.

"Well, this is a first" he heard June proclaim from a few feet away and turned to look at her questioningly. He hadn’t even noticed her coming over into the living room.

"Zeus usually doesn't warm up to new people this fast" she explained.

Bucky replied with an uncomfortable sound, when the cat climbed over his leg and rolled up in his lap, still purring.

"You know you should be honored. Zeus is an excellent judge of character and I take his verdict quite seriously."

Bucky tried to smile but all he managed to produce was an awkward grimace. June snickered.

“Well, as adorable as this is I have to break it up. Dinner is ready.”

She bent down and picked the small black cat up and cradled him in her arms like a baby for a moment, before letting him hop down. The cat ran out of sight and Bucky pushed himself up from the couch and followed her to the dining room where she had set up everything already: A basket of fresh bread, two plates for the pasta, two small bowls of mixed salad and the still empty glasses for the wine.

June handed Bucky the wine bottle and a corkscrew.

“Pour for us, would you?” she asked. Bucky nodded and by the time he had opened the bottle and poured each of their glasses half full she returned with a large bowl of pasta. It was a creamy looking sauce with small chunks of cheese and halves of cherry tomatoes mixed in and it smelled absolutely delicious.

She sat down and served them both a plate of pasta and only then Bucky realized how hungry he actually was.

"I learned this recipe in Florence, from an old lady in the building I lived. Everyone called her Mamma Sofia, " she explained. Bucky slid into his chair and took the napkin from his plate and placed it in his lap.

"On one of your travels?" he asked, happy to switch the topic to her instead of him.

"I actually studied there for a semester. Italian artists of the Renaissance. That’s where I met my ex-husband. But all I really remember from then is the cooking," she chuckled awkwardly, and Bucky looked at her his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You were married”, he commented.

“Well don’t sound so surprised,” she scolded him pretend indignantly, “I am not an old spinster!” He quietly chuckled when she smirked.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied obscurely. “You just – never mentioned it before.”

“Yeah well, I don’t usually lead with that story”, she countered and for a moment Bucky thought he saw a shadow of sadness slide across her face.

“Bad memories?” he carefully inquired. She shook her head no.

“No, just a long story.”

“Well, I got all evening,” he retorted. She cocked her head and then reached for her glass and lifted it. Condensation had started to fog up the outside of the glass where the cold white wine reached.

“To sharing stories, then?” she suggested a toast. Bucky took his own glass and nodded approvingly while they clinked glasses.

They finished their dinner over stories from Junes travels abroad. Stories of encounters with people from different continents, of cultural differences and funny misunderstandings. She shared anecdotes about the adventure of riding a taxi cab in Rome and of navigating the maze that was the Paris metro, of getting lost in the Louvre and of trying weed brownies in a coffeeshop in Amsterdam with Dutch friends.

Several times she said it was enough about her now and encouraged him to tell something about him but every time he managed to steer the conversation away from himself and back to her travels.

He wasn’t sure if she didn’t notice or didn’t care but she continued with her tales. And she seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Maybe she was even getting a little tipsy from the wine, because her cheeks became a little flushed after the second glass.

Sometimes he wished he could still get drunk, but he couldn’t. He found that out during his time hiding from Hydra in Romania. He had tried many times with all kinds of liquors, albeit nothing had worked. Just like Steve the super soldier serum prevented him from ever feeling that buzz again.

The buzz he was experiencing was of a different kind. He had almost forgotten how it felt to enjoy an evening and for a change not to worry.

He caught himself laughing out loud several times and without realizing it for a while he didn’t even pay attention to the noises his heightened senses picked up from the outside and let his guard down.

“This was fantastic, thank you”, he said while he used the last piece of his bread to wipe some of the creamy sauce off his plate and put it in his mouth.

“I’m glad you liked it, but I can’t let you leave without a proper espresso. Mamma Sophia would be very disappointed with me.” June replied.

She disappeared in the kitchen and he heard her potter about with some utensils, then she returned with two adorably small coffee cups that she put on the table in front of him.

“Are these Italian too?” he asked, gesturing at the small cups and she nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes. I found them in a small pottery store in Verona. I don’t use them a lot, I’m too scared I could break them.”

She went to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small aluminum stovetop coffee pot and started filling the cups.

Neither of them would later be able to recall exactly how it happened, but somehow the now filled cup slipped from her hands.

Before he could even think about it, Bucky reached for it in the blink of an eye and managed to grab it before the fragile vessel could hit the ground. He felt the espresso splash against his arm but the sensors in the bionic limb did not have the capacity to transmit pain.

“Oh my god, did you get burned?” June screamed, almost dropping the coffee pot too, trying to hastily place it on the table. She tried to reach for his arm, the nurse in her immediately trying to administer first aid if needed, but he evaded her hand and gently placed the cup back on the table.

“It’s fine”, he assured her calmly, but she could see where the boiling hot coffee had stained his shirt.

“You must be burned, let me check your arm please”, she reached for his arm again and this time he couldn’t pull away from her.

The second she touched his arm she instantly realized something felt very off. Confused she tugged on his sleeve revealing underneath dark metal plates with golden inlays. All color left her face as fast as she withdrew her hand, staring at him in utter confusion.

She was so taken aback that she didn't notice him cringe when she pulled her hand back, while her brain tried to piece together the shards of information. For a few moments she felt confused before the pieces suddenly fit together and it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks.

Bucky didn't know what to say but before he could even think of anything he saw the expression on her face change.

"Jesus" she muttered, "Barnes - of course..." her voice trailed off, he closed his eyes, avoiding her gaze, the lightness he had felt just a few moments ago was suddenly gone.

“You are THE Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let out a quiet groan, when she said the words.

He could feel that sensation again like a tingling that started in the tips of his real fingers and crept its way up his arm to his neck. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, which felt like it was in the grip of a huge iron vice and heard the blood rushing in his ears.

"This was a bad idea", he muttered.

He jumped up and headed for the door, tipping the chair over in his haste but the bang the chair made on the wooden floor barely registered with him. All he could think of was getting out. Out of this apartment, out of her sight, out of this whole situation he had managed to get himself into.

He reached for the doorknob, but his hand was trembling so much he wasn’t sure if he would be able to turn it.

“Bucky! Wait!” her voice was gentle, that was what made him stop. He turned and sank with his back against the door, breathing heavily. It felt like the whole room was closing in on him getting smaller and smaller and taking away the air to breathe.

I am having a panic attack he realized an the mere thought made the the whole thing even worse. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out his surroundings and balled his hand into a fist, trying to fight against it. He could feel his fingernails dig into the palm of his hand, but the pain didn’t snap him out of it like he had hoped for.

“Hey, it's OK!” he heard June's voice softly over the sound of his own racing heartbeat in his ears, as his legs gave in underneath him. His back slid down the door as he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.

“I can’t breathe”, he gasped almost panicked

“It's alright. I need you to listen to me, OK?” He heard her say. He could tell she knelt down next to him, and he nodded his head, resisting the urge to push her away from him, when she carefully touched his arm.

“Listen to my voice and try to breathe. Slow breaths.”

He tried to do what she told him, forcing air in his lungs and letting it back out, slowly, attempting to ignore that feeling of suffocating that made him wanting to draw the air into his lungs faster.

He focused on her voice although her words talking him through barely registered with him.

Slowly he could feel the grip around his chest loosen and the pounding of his heart calming down. Breathing felt a little easier with each breath and the sensation of him suffocating slowly subsided.

“Open your eyes.”

He forced his eyes open and the first thing he saw was hazel eyes - her eyes that looked at him worriedly.

“There you go.” She said a as the smile returned to her face. “Just keep breathing. Slowly in and out".

Bucky let his head sink against the door he was still leaning against, his breathing finally calming down and his body relaxing at last.

Only now Bucky noticed that she held his hands in hers, both of them, not just his real one, the metal one too and she showed no sign of aversion against it.

He loosened the ironclad grip with which he had held on to her slender pale hands, realizing he had squeezed her fingers way too hard and hoped he hadn’t inadvertently hurt her.

“Are you back with me?” she asked gently and when he nodded, she cautiously pulled her hand from his gloved metal hand.

“I'm sorry". He mumbled, avoiding to look at her. He felt humiliated, embarrassed that she had seen him like this, so he didn’t see her wince when she gently moved her hurting fingers.

“Don’t be.” she simply replied. Having knelt on the floor across from him the entire time she finally slipped next to him leaning her back against the door and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs.

“So, my neighbor has been the famous Winter Soldier all along”, she eventually commented thoughtfully. She was staring at the floor in front of her, so she didn’t catch Bucky flinching at the sound of his old name from her lips.

After a while she turned towards him, studied his face with the new knowledge of his identity and let out a sigh. She had no clue why she hadn’t caught on to it a long time ago. The name, the dog-tags, his oddly old-fashioned behavior. It had all been there right in front of her nose and she had still managed to miss it. Even the gloves.

“Does that mean you are going to take those gloves off finally?” she asked trying to sound lighthearted. She leaned closer to him giving him a slight nudge. She could feel the hard metal of his arm through the fabric of his sweatshirt and how his body tensed up for a moment.

“It doesn’t scare you?” Bucky asked, lifting his arm, stretching the fingers of his vibranium hand in the leather glove and balling it back into a fist, the leather glove made an almost creaking noise as it stretched under the force. June straightened up and gave him a bewildered look.

“Your arm?” she asked puzzled.

“Who I am. Does that not scare you?”

“Are you kidding me? I saw what went down at GRC, I watched it on live TV. You are a hero!” she exclaimed.

He gave her a surprised look. Nobody had ever called him that before.

“I don't feel like a hero", he replied truthfully.

“Why?” she asked. Bucky sighed. For a few moments he wrecked his brain searching for the right words to explain it, but then she suddenly changed her mind.

“Okay, that's not a conversation I want to have while sitting on the floor next to my front door”, she proclaimed. With that she got up from the floor and he followed suit. Still a little shaky and unstable on his feet he steadied himself against the door frame for a moment before he found his balance.

She carefully reached out for him and gave his real hand a reassuring squeeze that he gratefully returned. Then she returned to the dining table and slumped back into her chair. She suddenly seemed exhausted.

Hesitatingly Bucky walked back to where he had sat before. He bent down to pick up the chair he had knocked over. Uncertain whether to stay or to go he remained standing, while he watched June reach for the bottle of wine they had opened with dinner. It was not even an hour since then, but it suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

She poured herself a glass of wine and then reached over the table to top off his glass and gestured for him to join her.

Reluctantly Bucky sat down across from her. The empty plates on the table, the basket with the bread, the salad bowl, it all seemed absurdly trivial and out of place all the sudden.

He grabbed his napkin from the floor and attempted to wipe up the spilled espresso that was still on the table, just to busy himself with something. But the paper napkin was soaked within a moment and all he could do was push it into a little soggy heap in the middle of the coffee puddle.

“Look, I don’t know the whole story of what happened to you,” June finally interrupted the silence between them that - for the first time since they knew each other - felt uncomfortable. Bucky focused his eyes on the table in front of him avoiding to look at her. “I just read some of the articles when the documents were leaked years ago and I don’t remember a lot, except....”

“Except what they turned me into.” he interrupted her gloomily.

“Except that that none of this was any of your doing”, she corrected.

“So people keep telling me”, he mumbled.

“That’s because it is true.” He gave her an unconvinced look but didn’t reply. After a couple seconds he cleared his throat.

“I think I should go.” he declared and got up as if to put more emphasis on his words.

“You don’t have to...” June replied guardedly. Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweater. And avoided her gaze.

“I think I would rather be alone right now”, he reaffirmed. And without waiting for an answer from her he walked to the door. His hands were still shaky, when he turned the doorknob, and he didn’t look back as he stepped through the door and quietly but firmly pulled it shut behind him.

Chapter Text

Bucky stared out of the high window in Dr. Raynor's office, where the trees in the courtyard a floor below that now carried the first pink blooms of the year. His hands rested in his lap, his fingers interlocked. He could hear the muffled sounds of the hospital on the other side of the wall and the wailing of the coming and going ambulances outside the building.

He had been sitting like this for a while, without being able to tell how long exactly. When he had first walked in, she went over her usual few questions about the past week but today he did not feel like sharing many details and the conversation hat stopped soon after.

He had tried to focus his attention on his therapist and this session but his mind started wandering the moment he didn't make a conscious effort.

"You seem preoccupied today, James." Dr Raynor's voice finally interrupted the silence and he hesitantly looked over at her, sitting in her swivel chair, examining him with that piercing gaze of hers that he couldn't hide anything from.

"Yeah", he murmured quietly, staring at his hands to avoid looking at her for a prolonged time.

"Why don't you tell me what it is that is bothering you?" she asked him calmly.

Immediately Bucky felt his defenses come up and he reminded himself once again that he was here because she tried to help him. He didn't quite understand why he still reacted this way so often in spite of his efforts not to. He knew better. He knew she was on his side and that she did indeed help him.

"I..." he started and his voice trailed off, carrying out a helpless gesture with his hands before placing them back in his lap. His shoulders slumped over he searched his brain for the right words but couldn't find them and finally let out a deep sigh. He didn't even know where to start.

Dr Raynor seemed to immediately pick up on it and adapted her approach.

"Did you have another panic attack?"

Bucky's eyes darted up to her in surprise and a knowing expression came over her face as she nodded understandingly.

"Tell me how it happened," she encouraged him. Bucky sighed again.

"I was with my neighbor..." he started only to interrupt himself once again.

"Your friend you told me about?" she tried to help along and Bucky nodded thoughtfully. Hearing her call June his friend felt oddly strange, as if someone else speaking the words could burst the bubble, make the illusion go away.

"We had dinner a couple days ago. She figured out who I am."

"So, she didn't know." Dr Raynor commented barely disguising the surprise in her voice. Bucky nodded.

"She didn't recognize me when we met and - I never told her," Bucky explained.

"Why?"

"I didn't want her to know. I didn't want her to look at me the way people do when they know.”

"What way?”

Bucky sighed and looked away, focusing his eyes on the tree in the small courtyard.

“Like - like they are scared of me.” Dr. Raynor pressed her lips together and nodded. She let the words linger in the silence for a couple moments, gave him the chance to dwell on them, now that he had said them out loud.

“But did she?” Dr Raynor finally asked. Bucky looked at her stunned and shook his head no. His mind drifted back to that evening a few days ago. He played the scene through in his mind, her kneeling beside him, calming him down, holding his hand. Again, he shook his head.

“She talked me through the – the panic attack.” There, he said it. He spoke the words in spite of his desire to still deny it. Saying the words out loud made all of it much more real. Dr. Raynor nodded again, once more letting him process what he had just acknowledged.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked finally after a minute of silence.

“I guess”, he replied vaguely. He still felt embarrassed for having a breakdown like that in front of her.

“But...”

“It's not the same anymore.”

Dr Raynor thoughtfully nodded her head. She looked at her hands for a few moments, formulating her reply in her head.

“James, friendships are not that delicate. At least healthy friendships should not be. Friendships can adapt to changes without becoming less meaningful or less true.” He didn’t react to her words so she continued.

“We talked a while ago about trusting people again”, Bucky nodded, quietly looking down on his entwined fingers that rested in his lap.

“Right now, trusting doesn’t come naturally to you. That is understandable after everything you have been through. You may have to look for trustworthy behavior more consciously. It might be small things like asking for directions and getting them. Or it might be something big. Like…“, she made a vague hand gesture “like talking you through a panic attack.”

Without moving his head Bucky looked up to her, furrowing his brows.

“Once you start consciously looking for it you will start seeing trustworthy behavior in the people around you.”

Bucky let out a sigh that didn't sound convinced.

Dr Raynor attempted to say something else but the chime from her clock indicating the end of this week's session interrupter her. She took a look at her wristwatch and reached for her calendar.

“I will see you again next week, James. Our usual time. Until then I want you to do something.” She scribbled a short note next to his name and then looked up again.

“I want you to make a real effort to look for trustworthy behavior in people. Every time you rely on someone, even in a small way and they come through for you – take note. Get a notebook – or – use a document in your phone, but write it down. Alright?”

Bucky nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of starting to carry another notebook around with him. But so far none of the advice she had given him had been bad, the little exercises she’d had him do have all had a purpose.

“We will talk about it more next time.” With that Dr. Raynor got up and Bucky followed suit. He nodded halfheartedly, a reaction that didn’t slip her attention.

“Trust me on this, James,” she emphasized and gave him this piercing look again. He nodded, again, not sure if it did convince her, but she let it go either way. She gave him a brief tight-lipped smile that he didn’t return. Instead, he opened the door to the hallway and stepped back into the noise and scurry of the world outside.

After the appointment with Dr. Raynor he decided to take a stroll along the East River to clear his mind.

He got off the subway in Brooklyn near the Manhattan bridge and walked the short distance to the riverfront in a fast pace. He slowed down once he reached the parks alongside the embankment.

He followed the small paths towards the water. Above him he could hear the traffic rumble across the blue metal structure of the Manhattan bridge, the horns from the boats on the river and the lapping of the waves against the rocks along the shore.

Behind the shrubs and trees that started to turn green he could see the more well-known stone structure of the Brooklyn bridge.

He pulled the collar of his sweatshirt up against the still chilly wind blowing from the bay on the tip of Manhattan. The breeze carried with it the screams of the seagulls und the salty smell of the ocean.

About halfway between the two bridges he stopped at a small rocky beach that was framed by four rows of wide concrete steps that invited to sit down and linger. He found a spot away from the people that had gathered here to enjoy the weather and sat down on some large rocks near a withered wooden fence.

He closed his eyes and turned his face against the sun, feeling the warmth on his skin while he let the wind blow in his face and tug on his hair, hoping it would help him clear his thoughts. But today it didn’t quite work. Too much was going through his head.

Friendships are not that delicate. At least healthy friendships should not be.

Dr. Raynor’s words still stuck with him. Real Friendships. That was exactly the problem, wasn’t it. He wasn’t sure about how delicate this friendship was and if it could survive the revelation of his identity.

He had kept it a secret from her on purpose for that exact reason. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to be his friend anymore since she knew the truth about him. He wasn’t sure if anyone really did. Most of the time he didn’t even like himself.

Yes, he had appreciated Steve’s loyalty but deep inside there had always been that voice that told him that Steve did everything solely out of a sense of obligation just like the other Avengers accepted him in their ranks because of Steve. Not because of himself.

But it was more than that. His friendship with June over the last months had been his normal. The only normal he had known since the day he fell off the train in Austria.

For the first time in a very long time someone had treated him like a regular person. Not like a killing machine to give orders to. Not like a monster that one had to be afraid of. Not like a danger to the public that needed to be contained. Not like something that was broken and needed fixing. Just like a normal person.

For the first time in forever he had actually really felt like a normal person but of course the past had caught up with him again. He just couldn’t escape it no matter how hard he tried.

After a while of him letting his mind wander, he realized that he was starting to get chilly. He opened his eyes and notices that the lot of people that had gathered in the park earlier had started to disperse. As the sun slowly crept behind the skyline of Manhattan and the temperature started to fall most people returned to their warm homes.

Bucky got up and brushed the dust off his dark Jeans. He walked back to the Subway station where he took the next train that took him to the station closest to his street.

When he emerged from the underground station it was already getting dark. The streetlamps had come on. The brightly lit shops and stores along his way threw their light on the pavement, a quiet invitation to come in.

He stopped for a moment in front of a stationery shop, looking through the window at the shelves and displays inside. The thought of buying a notebook like Dr. Raynor had suggested crossed his mind. But then he stubbornly shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his sweater turned his look away from the window of the store and continued on his way.

That night he had the worst nightmares he had experienced in a long time.

He awoke several times during the night, sweating, screaming, thrashing about, his limbs tangled in the blanket he slept under. He managed to fall back asleep after a while every time but the faces and screams of the Winter Soldier’s victims kept haunting him all night.

When the first light of day dawned outside his windows he decided to get up. He took a long shower, letting the hot water run over his back, the heat relaxing his muscles and driving away the lingering memory of the freezing cold of the cryochamber.

He stayed in the shower until the water turned cold and he started to shiver.

After he got dressed, he went over to his living room where he turned on the TV and slumped on his couch. He flipped through a couple of channels not really sure what he was looking for and finally settled for a live news channel.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had spent staring at the screen without even seeing or hearing anything on it, when it knocked on his apartment door.

He tried to ignore it, but he knew the noise from the TV had already given away that he was home. So, when he heard another, more insistent knock he got up from the couch and reluctantly shuffled to the door. He looked through the spyhole but couldn’t see anyone outside.

His improved hearing could however make out that someone was on the other side of the door and he had a strong feeling that it was June.

A third knock made it very clear that his visitor was not going to go away so he braced himself for whatever was to come and slowly unlocked and opened. Leaning against the wall next to the door was indeed June.

She was dressed in a pair of Jeans and a purple oversized sweater, she wore her hair open for a change instead of her usual ponytail and the wind had blown strands into her face. She looked like she had just come in from outside.

“June...” he muttered.

She pushed herself off the doorframe, crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a stern look.

“You, sir, have been avoiding me.” she scolded him, trying to sound somewhat playful but Bucky heard the disappointment in her voice.

It was true. He had been avoiding her. When before he would have hoped to meet her in the hallway, even tried to time when he left his place so he would run into her, since the incident the other day he had changed his own coming and going so it wouldn’t coincide with her schedule.

The rational part of himself knew it wasn’t fair to her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. None of this was her fault, yet ever since that evening a couple days ago, he hadn’t been able to face her.

When Bucky didn’t reply June gave him an inquiring look and frowned.

“You look awful. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine”, he replied with a sigh und rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

“You don’t look fine. And it’s not nice to lie to your friends”, she chided him. Bucky cast his eyes down to the floor so he didn’t have to look at her face that had disappointment written all over it.

“You do know the walls in this house are practically paper thin and I could hear you last night.” she continued when she didn’t get a reply from him and then added after a moment: “Me and probably everyone else in the building.”

Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. That was probably the last thing he needed to hear right now.

“I never wanted you to see any of that”, he mumbled.

“Bucky - I know what PTSD looks like. I have seen it before, remember?” He looked up at her skeptically, furrowing his brows. He did remember her mentioning her brother and nodded.

“It doesn’t change anything, Bucky. the fact that I know who you were doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything”, he objected. June buried her face in her hands and made a frustrated noise. When she put her hands back down, she looked at him for a couple moments, pondering. A look that made Bucky shift uncomfortably.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” June finally asked. Bucky shrugged.

“I don’t know, yesterday?”

“I know what you need. Come on, get a sweater. We are getting some comfort food.” she said assertively.

“Food is not gonna fix things”, Bucky grumbled. June let out a sigh.

“I am not trying to fix anything. I am trying to get you out of this funk you are in, and I know that the world looks a lot less gloomy with a full stomach”, she explained. When he still didn’t move, she reached with her hand for his, gave him a short squeeze and added: “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Chapter Text

The restaurant they ended up in was located in a small side street, a former carriage house that had been renovated to accommodate the restaurant and two rather quirky shops.

The interior was kept in muted colors. Dark wooden floor, blue grey walls, decorated with colorful, but somewhat abstract paintings of nightly streetscapes. Almost room high windows in the front looked out at the wrought iron fences in front of the row of brick houses across the alley.

The tables and chairs looked old, but well kept, dark wood and dark violet seat cushions. On the back of the room was a counter to order your food with a large passage to the busy kitchen, brightly lit compared to the dimmer guest room.

Large signs above the counter displayed the menu, mostly soups and burgers, while behind the counter three employees worked on the orders and the cash register.

Calm music played softly in the background. Quiet enough to not be annoying, but loud enough to still be audible over the conversations of the few guests that were seated at a few tables throughout the room.

Bucky looked around the room suspiciously, unconsciously evaluating the level of threat each one of them posed, determining exit points and possible cover. Only at second glance did he actually look at the coziness of the interior.

“Welcome to the best comfort food place in all of Brooklyn”, June whispered, almost as if she was sharing a well-kept secret with him. “You need to try one of the soups, they are divine.”

Bucky glanced up at the menu. The smells of the food coming from the kitchen made his stomach growl and reminded him that he was actually really hungry.

“My favorite is the baked potato cheddar or the chicken and wild rice. I always have a hard time choosing”, June continued explicitly lighthearted, and Bucky gave her a quick glance from the side. He couldn’t help but admire her staunch determination to completely ignore his bad mood.

“Welcome to Hanna’s Soul Food, are you ready to order?” A young blonde girl behind the counter had spotted them. When she didn’t receive a reply, she awkwardly looked from June to Bucky and back before adding: “Do you need me to give you another minute?”

June gave Bucky a questioning look and he shook his head no. They ordered their soups and some drinks with it, June asked for extra bread and then indicated for Bucky to pick a table.

He chose a table on the far wall, near a small electric fireplace, and took the seat with the back to the wall, where could keep an eye on both entrance and window. The girl from the counter brought them their ice teas on a small tray and placed the cups in front of them.

“Thanks”, June gave the girl a quick smile and a nod and waited for her to be out of earshot before she turned her attention back to Bucky.

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from her gaze.

“Why is it such a big deal that I know?” she finally asked bluntly. Bucky flinched

She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about. Bucky sighed.

“It - it was nice to feel normal with someone, being treated like a normal person.”

“Normal?” She echoed. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, trying to find the words to properly explain.

“How DO other people treat you?“ she asked confused. Bucky rubbed his forehead with his real hand.

“It's complicated."

“I can handle complicated", she replied giving him an encouraging look. Bucky took another deep breath. When he exhaled his shoulders seemed to slump over, when all of the sudden the memories kept flooding back into his mind with force.

Steve showing up in his little crappy apartment in Romania, Steve looking at him in the abandoned factory near Berlin, Steve’s bruised and cut face through the glass of the cryochamber in Wakanda, before things went blank.

He could tell the memory was about to overwhelm him, drag him into a strange and scary place of flashbacks and memories from both his life before the war and his years as the Winter Soldier that was really hard to escape from.

He shook his head as if to get the thoughts out, trying to focus on the present, ground himself in the place he was, like Dr Raynor had taught him by consciously naming one thing each of his senses picked up right now. He could hear the soft music, he could feel the warmth from the electric fireplace next to him, he could smell the food being cooked in the kitchen, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the worried look on June's face.

“Are you alright?” she asked. He nodded.

He knew exactly what Dr Raynor would tell him right now. You need to start opening up to people. It was the sad irony of his life that he had been starved of any human closeness and touch for so long but now that he was free, he pushed people away.

You need to start opening up to people ...

He might as well do it with June, he decided in the spur of the moment, almost spiteful. How much worse could things get anyway? She either would understand, or he would scare her away for good so what was the harm.

“When I escaped – Hydra …“He lowered his voice when he said Hydra, just in case someone was listening in on their conversation somehow, “... people either treated me like a threat or something to be scared of. And Steve – Steve ...” His voice trailed off.

“Steve - like in Steve Rogers?” June interjected, which he confirmed by nodding his head.

“Steve always tried to save me. My shrink and Sam are constantly trying to fix me and the few people, who recognize me here, always pull their phone cameras out in case I snap ...”

He interrupted himself again. His thoughts trailed off, going back to all the times, when he had suddenly and unwillingly found himself in front of a few dozen phone cameras. Madripoor, the GRC incident, the park a few weeks ago.

They paused their conversation when the young waitress showed up at their table to bring them their food. She put down the basket of still steaming warm bread in the middle of the table and then looked from June to Bucky and back.

“Who had the baked potato cheddar soup? “

“That's me", June replied and moved her silverware and napkin to the side, so the girl could put the bowl of soup in front of her. Then the girl turned to Bucky.

“Then the chicken and wild rice got to be yours" she stated and put down his bowl. „Anything else I can get you?“

Bucky shook his head and June replied „I think we are all set, thanks.“

They waited until the girl had left, watching her retreat until they were sure she was out of earshot, and then quietly returned to their conversation.

“I am sorry that people treat you like that", June said softly. „That must be hard.“

Her words caught him off guard. That was not a reaction he normally got. Mostly people told him that things were just in his mind and that he shouldn't let it bother him. Having these feelings simply acknowledged as valid was new. It was so new, he actually wasn't sure how to even reply to that, so instead he took his spoon and started stirring his soup.

“But I think I understand now”, June added.

Spoon still in hand he looked up at June. She had reached for a thick slice of the warm bread, broke a large piece off that she thoughtfully dipped into the soup and then put it in her mouth.

He took a spoon full of his soup and tasted it. June had been right. Divine was the correct word. The flavors, the creamy texture. He understood now why the place was called Soul Food: It was like the food warmed his soul itself.

He caught her eye, as she was watching the expression on his face with a slightly amused look.

“Good?” she asked smirking. Bucky let out a sigh.

“God, yes”, he replied. June chuckled and gave him a look that said, I told you so.

They ate in silence for a while before June picked up the conversation again.

“Feeling better now?”

Bucky nodded. He put his spoon down, resting his arm on the table for a moment and gave her a long look. June had been about to take another bite of the bread but froze, her arm stopped halfway between the plate and her face. With an uneasy frown she put her hand back down, bracing herself for whatever was about to come.

“I am sorry I avoided you. I just ... You basically are the only person who didn’t meet the Winter Soldier before you met Bucky. You aren’t a part of that side of my life. I wanted to keep it that way. So, when you ...” His voice trailed off. He could almost see her relief over his words, which left him wondering what she had expected him to say. Then she nodded understandingly.

“Look,” she finally said. “I don’t exactly make friends easily. Most people find me too straightforward and think I talk way too much. But when I like someone, it takes more than a metal arm to scare me away. Ok?”

Bucky chuckled quietly.

“Okay”

The rest of the meal they chatted about normal, more mundane things and Bucky could feel the tension in him slowly fading away with every passing minute. Maybe she was right. Maybe there was a chance that things didn’t have to change completely.

After lunch he and June walked back towards their building. It was another sunny spring day, the trees lining the streets budding in the first green of the year. The birds were chirping in the branches as if to try and drown out the noises of traffic, the wind coming from the bay was brisk and swept the small white clouds across the pale blue sky.

They encountered a blocked off street and Bucky realized quickly that it was a small farmers marked that had been set up. Vendors were selling their goods from white pop-up pavilions, mostly fresh fruit and vegetables, but also street foods, baked goods and even coffee beans from Colombia.

June seemed to be walking with a purpose and he followed her through the rows of white plastic roofs and foldable tables with their colorful displays, even though the bustling of the people around him made him feel a little on edge.

June found what she had been looking for on the far end of the market near the black wrought iron fence, that separated the adjacent park from the wide sidewalk.

The tree limbs hanging over the fence almost touched the white plastic of the pavilion, a checkered tablecloth covered the foldable table, and on top of that, lined up in hotel pans were rows and rows of little round, extremely colorful little pastries.

“Have you ever had macarons?” June asked while she let her eyes wander over the vibrantly colored display.

Bucky shook his head no. “I can’t say I have.”

June shook her head, making a disapproving tsk-noise before she started to order a selection of different colors and flavors of macarons for them. The owner of the stand took whatever she asked for with gloved hands and carefully placed it in a little clear plastic container.

“Here, let me”’ Bucky started and reached for his wallet when the vendor rang up the total for them, but June cut him off with a hand gesture that didn’t permit any objections.

“Don’t you dare. You already paid for lunch, I buy dessert.” she declared, her voice very much conveying that the matter was closed.

After she paid, they took what she called a shortcut through the park where they strolled along the slowly budding flower beds and park benches. She opened the box and offered the pastries to Bucky who took one of the least brightly colored ones and tried it. It was soft and almost gooey on the inside, with a small layer of frosting in the middle of the two halves, and it was extremely sweet.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sweetness and the flavor. He had forgotten how much he liked sweet stuff.

Back when he was a kid it was the middle of the depression. His family worked hard to put food on the table. Sugar was a rare commodity and candy an even rarer treat.

Sometimes his father would bring him and his sister a few hard candies on Friday evenings, when he’d had a good week at work and had earned some decent money.

Bucky remembered himself and Rebecca counting the candies out on the kitchen table to split them evenly between the two of them, eyeing each other like hawks, so none of them would sneak a piece of candy away uncounted.

He remembered spending some of his first self-earned money on a huge wad of cotton candy in Coney Island, buying chocolates for girls he liked and the hard, flavorless “Ration D” chocolate bars that they would dissolve in a hot drink to provide some much-needed calories in the trenches in Europe.

As the Winter Soldier he was provided foods that were meant to sustain him, nothing more. Foods with a high calorie count for his missions and training sessions, proteins for muscle mass, supplements for everything else. He remembered bland tastes and huge portions shoved in front of him on metal trays.

June watched his facial expression closely while he chewed.

“What’s your verdict?” she asked when he finally opened his eyes.

“You might have to fight me for the rest of them.” The words came out before he could stop himself, and once he said them, he wished he could take them back. For a couple moments he was worried it came out all wrong.

June's jaw dropped a little and she blinked a few times, as if she wasn’t sure if she heard right. Then she chuckled and Bucky internally sighed in relief.

“Oh, I WILL take on a super soldier over macarons”, she assured him, and he raised his hands defensively.

“Alright. I will share”, he yielded.

They continued walking, snacking on the little French pastries while chatting, and Bucky could practically feel his spirits lift the longer they walked. June didn’t miss how his demeanor changed.

“I told you the world looks a lot brighter after you had some good food”, she reminded him, before she shoved the last of the macarons in her mouth and wiped her fingers on a small paper napkin that she had swiped from a hotdog stand along the way.

“Yes, I admit, you were right.” Bucky reluctantly conceded.

He was startled when June’s hand quickly moved into her purse and a few seconds later pulled out her phone. She then held the phone towards Bucky who eyed her dubiously.

“Wait, can you say that again? I need a recording of this for future reference”, she asked with a deadpan voice.

“Not a chance! You’ll never let me hear the end of it”, he replied, laughing. She gave him a slight nudge with her elbow and laughed as well.

“What makes you think I will if you refuse”, she retorted quickly. Bucky nudged her back, careful to not use too much force, when his eyes fell on the front of a small store in one of the buildings just a few feet ahead of them and he stopped dead in his track.

“What’s up?” June asked confused tiling her head slightly to the side.

Bucky had realized their path had taken them to the same stationary shop that he had come upon just last night, where had contemplated buying a notebook and almost spitefully decided against it.

“Would you go shopping for something with me?” he asked, while he pointed with his hands towards the front door of the little shop. She followed his gesture with her eyes and frowned, confused, slightly tilting her head to the side.

“Um ... sure - what do you need to buy?” she asked. Bucky smiled thoughtfully, pausing for a second before he replied:

“A notebook.”

Chapter Text

Rain was pelting against the outside of the window, running down the glass pane in streams. Gusts of wind shook the trees that lined the street outside. Lightning illuminated the sky in intervals, followed by the low rumbling of thunder.

It was the first thunderstorm of the year and it had followed a rather warm April weekend.

Bucky was standing in his little kitchen, a small pot of boiling water on the stove in front of him and a small rustling package in his hand.

Frowning he turned the package over once again, intently reading the instructions for the fourth time now. They didn’t sound overly complicated but for some reason it still made no sense to him. How was this supposed to work and turn into something edible?

With a determined move he tore open the crackling paper packaging. Pieces of uncooked noodles rained on the countertop, followed by a flat square of uncooked noodles and yet another, smaller package.

He dumped the noodle block into the boiling water and then tried scooping up most of the smaller pieces and threw them also into the pot.

Once more he studied the instructions on the now torn plastic bag.

>Cook for 3 minutes then turn off heat and stir in flavor package<

He looked at the clock on the microwave above the stove to time two minutes when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

He dropped both packages on the counter and went to open the door.

“SAM!”

In the hallway stood no other than Sam Wilson, raindrops glistening in his short hair and on the surface of his brown leather Jacket.

“Hey Buck, good to see you.”

Bucky swung the door all the way open and took a step to the side to let Sam in. The two men exchanged a quick embrace.

“I didn’t know you were in the area", Bucky remarked while he closed the door behind Sam.

“That was a spontaneous thing. I had a meeting in D.C.”, Sam replied and took a look around Bucky's still empty living room.

“Nice place", he commented dryly, “what's the style? Ultra-minimalism? Have you heard of furniture? You had furniture back in the 30s, right?”

Bucky shot him a withering glance but otherwise didn’t acknowledge Sam’s ribbing.

“You still sleeping on the floor too?” Sam pried.

“No”, was the only reply Bucky gave. It didn’t sound very convincing and Sam didn’t look convinced. He gave Bucky a reproving look.

“I sleep on the couch sometimes, alright?” Bucky gave back defensively. Sam pointed at the couch by the window in disbelief.

“On that thing? That some kind of self-torture?”

Bucky opened his mouth to give a witty reply but a sizzling sound from the stove interrupted him before he could say anything. He spun around to see that the water noodle mixture in the pot had boiled over.

He lunged forward, picked up the pot and threw it into the sink next to the stove, boiling water, half cooked noodles and all.

“What was that?” Sam inquired.

“I was trying to cook Ramen Noodles”, Bucky grumbled in response, while simultaneously grabbing a rag. He attempted to wipe up the mess the overboiling mixture of starch and water had left on the stove and then just threw the rag into the sink too.

Sam strolled over to Bucky and cast a questioning glance into the sink where the noodles still stewed in the steaming water.

"Man…” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly, “that is not cooking, that is an abomination.”

“Yeah, well, back in my day we used to cook with real ingredients, not whatever this is”, Bucky stated with a vague hand gesture towards the whole mess.

Sam chuckled

He turned his back to the sink, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Sam leaned with one hand against the counter and looked around the bare apartment again.

“What’s that” Sam asked and when Bucky looked up, pointed at the notebook on the kitchen counter.

“My notebook.”

"You starting to write a novel?” Sam teased.

Bucky lunged forward, snatched the notebook off the counter and brusquely shoved it into his pocket.

“It’s for an assignment from my therapist”, he replied tight lipped. Sam had looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something to rib the other man, but his demeanor changed instantly when Bucky mentioned his therapist.

“How has that been going?” he inquired now calmly, without jest, his voice giving away the sincere concern for his friends’ well being.

“Okay I guess”, Bucky shrugged “she is having me do some exercise to help me trust people.”

Bucky’s voice sounded slightly annoyed. Sam smirked and nodded knowingly. He had taken all the necessary psychology classes before he started his job at the VA and was familiar with a lot of the exercises.

He personally had never used any with his patients. A group setting like he had led wasn’t the place for exercises like this. He left that to the actually trained therapists and the private sessions they had with the patients. His groups had always been more about the community a group of people would provide who went through the same experiences.

“Yeah, I know about those”, he replied with a nod.

“Does it work?”

“It helped a couple guys I know”, Sam replied thoughtfully, “but it takes time.” There was no point in sugarcoating things. Like everything involving healing this too required time and patience on behalf of everyone involved.

He knew that was difficult for most people. Having the patience to keep doing the work and not getting discouraged by how slowly things changed.

More than once he had seen it himself. When things didn’t get better quickly it was just easier to retreat back into the old patterns and isolation.

“Yeah, I guess it does”, Bucky pondered, “Patience just isn't my strong suit.”

“You don't say”, Sam shot back, earning himself another sharp look from Bucky.

“Stick with it, man”, Sam added after a moment, “it’s going to be worth it.

Later that night, after their conversation Bucky looked at his place with different eyes.

He and Sam had gone out and grabbed some food before Sam had to take a cab back to JFK to catch his flight home.

They had used the time to catch up. Bucky had asked about Sarah and the boys and was happy to hear that the business was doing well. With many of the ships in the area still not fixed up and their boat now back in working order she brought in bigger catches than ever before.

She had found customers in the local restaurants and markets for the fish she didn’t end up using for her own kitchen.

Before he headed off to the airport Sam had made Bucky promise to visit them in Louisiana soon.

Now back in his place Bucky looked around and for the first time the place being empty and feeling empty felt wrong.

It never had bothered him to not have any furniture than what came with the apartment before. He didn’t need more and it was not like he considered this place a home.

But over the last months he had come to a realization that the conversation with Sam had just further solidified: He needed to put down some sort of roots.

Ever since escaping from Hydra he had been living on the run. His most important belongings in one spot ready to grab them in case he had to leave. Other than these few things there was nothing he cared about enough to not just leave it behind.

If he started putting work into this place he would start getting attached. In a way he had already started to. Not to this place in particular, it still was just two barely furnished rooms.

But he had established a friendship here. He had allowed June to get closer than anyone since before the war - except maybe Steve. And Steve didn’t really count anyway because he was his best friend from long before.

Without truly realizing it he had already started to put down roots. Small, fragile roots still, fragile enough to be severed easily but roots none the less.

He smiled a little at the realization.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, as he brought his pillow and blankets to the couch where he would attempt to sleep tonight. Tomorrow he would start looking for a few things to make this place more his.

Chapter Text

Dr. Raynor’s eyes were focused on the pages in Bucky’s notebook. Her head slightly tilted to the side, like she did when she was examining something.

Bucky had noticed that pattern in her behavior early on. It gave her away a lot of times when she didn’t believe him or if she was trying to carefully study his reaction to something.

In her hand she held a pen that she turned between her fingers. She did that when she was very focused on something, like in this case his notes.

Her left leg was crossed over the other, the tip of her foot nodding up and down – that was something she just did. Or at least Bucky hadn’t been able to discover a certain reason for it so far.

He was so lost in his thoughts he was almost startled when she finally flipped the little notebook shut with an audible noise and directed her gaze at him.

“You didn’t take a lot of notes”, she stated and thanks to her expressionless face Bucky wasn’t quite sure if this was a rebuke or just a simple observation.

She made no move to hand him back the notebook. Instead, she placed it on the small table next to her swivel chair, indicating that she was not yet done.

“Do you find it difficult to write it down or to recognize the trustworthy behavior we talked about?” Dr. Raynor’s voice was calm, non-judgmental.

“How about both?” Bucky offered in response. The therapist raised her eyebrows.

“Is that a question or an answer?” she retorted. Bucky cast his eyes down and smiled.

“I still don’t really go among people a lot", he admitted. Dr. Raynor's hand reached for the notebook again and she flipped to the pages where he had scribbled down a few notes.

The two sharp lines over her nose seemed to deepen a bit as she knitted her brows.

“You mention your friend several times though --” she observed, while she skimmed over the rows Bucky’s neat handwriting again looking for the name, “– June.” She closed the book and held it in her hand for a couple seconds before she reached out her arm and finally handed it back to Bucky.

Bucky leaned forward to take it from her and slid it into the pocket of his jacket.

He felt better having it back in his grasp. Having her examine what he wrote down made him feel strangely uncomfortable. Especially after she had mentioned June.

“I take it your worries that this was the end of your friendship were unwarranted”, Dr. Raynor commented.

“I guess....”, Bucky mumbled. He waited for an ‘I told you so’ but it didn’t come.

He held his eyes cast down towards the floor in front of his feet so he didn’t see the little twitch of her lips when she heard his words. She didn’t need to say that she had been right. He knew it too.

“Tell me more about your week, James”, she finally continued. Bucky shrugged.

There wasn’t really much to tell. It wasn’t like he had a job or any important places to be. The only real appointment he had all week was his therapy sessions with her. Other than that, he didn’t have anything going on.

Maybe he should find something to do after all, something to – what did Dr. Raynor always call it – settle into a routine.

Right now, most of his days still consisted of reading, watching TV an trying to find his way in this city that had changed so much since his childhood.

“James?”

He hadn’t realized that his mind had started to trail off until her voice abruptly pulled him back into the present. When he looked up, he found her questioningly looking at him, eyebrows raised.

“Anything?”

He suddenly remembered her question. He let out a deep breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding.

“I bought some things for my – apartment.” He finally answered.

He didn’t think it was a big deal worth mentioning to her. But it was the only thing out of the ordinary that he had done all week.

The words had just barely left his mouth when her eyebrows shot up. He seemed to have piqued her interest.

“Tell me more.” She encouraged. Bucky shrugged, not sure what there was to talk about really.

“Just some practical stuff. Some tools, dishes – a desk…”

"A desk?” Dr. Raynor repeated, barely disguising the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah. A desk.” Bucky paused for a moment, his hands painting a vague gesture in the air. “You know - with some drawers for my books and a thing – for my keys…”

He interrupted himself and placed his hands back in his lap. Dr. Raynor nodded slowly, a little smile – a smirk almost – on her lips.

“What prompted you to do that?”

“I don’t know. It felt like it was time...” his voice trailed off and Dr. Raynor gave him a few moments before she continued:

“How does that make you feel?”

Bucky gave Dr. Raynor a surprised look. When he was told by the judge that his pardon would require him to go to therapy, he had asked his lawyer what therapy was going to be like. Back then he had no idea what this all meant. Everything had gone so fast back then.

Waking up in Wakanda, where they just a moment ago had fought a battle and now suddenly goats bleated. He had remembered the weird sensation he had felt, calling out to Steve and how his hands seemed to turn into dust and now suddenly everything had changed.

He didn’t ask questions when the Wakandans showed up and he was transported to yet another fight, he just joined his comrades.

The days that followed were blur of interviews, interrogations and court appearances that finally culminated in the judge granting his pardon.

>They make you talk about stuff and ask you how something makes you feel a lot.< his lawyer had answered. Yet, in the months that had passed since he couldn’t remember Dr. Raynor asking him this exact question until just now.

The question actually being asked after all the months caught him off guard and he paused to think about her words.

“Scared...” he finally mumbled quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

He looked up and his eyes met hers. Eyebrows raised she blinked a couple times in fast succession, staring at him like she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

He almost couldn’t believe it himself, that he had actually said that. But now that the word was out, he realized how true it was. He was terrified.

He had woken up the morning after his decision to a feeling that he could only describe as existential dread. The feeling that something awful was about to happen like an ice-cold hand at the base of his neck.

He had tried to distract himself from it by going on runs and reading. But every time he stopped or put down the book the feeling crept back up on him and he wasn’t able to shake it.

“It is natural to feel scared, James...” Dr Raynor finally said into the silence that had followed his admission. Her voice was warmer than usual, almost gentle. He furrowed his brows skeptically, making no attempt to reply.

“James, ever since you left Hydra behind you have been on the move. Never stayed too long in one place. It’s what kept you safe. Allowing yourself to get settled is scary because it feels like you make yourself vulnerable.”

He nodded along to her little speech, that finally put into words this weird state he had been in the last few days.

She looked at him in a way that left him wondering if she expected him to say anything to that. A look that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

After a few moments she let out a small sigh as if she resigned herself to the fact that – again – she would be doing most of the talking.

“This is a good thing, James. It’s a big step in the right direction”, she finally said.

“It will take some time for you to feel completely comfortable with that, but it is important to remind yourself that you really don’t have to run anymore."

Chapter Text

Calming background music floated through the sales room of the thrift store, almost drowned out by the chatter of the patrons and the rattling of the shopping carts.

Like most of its kind the second-hand store in the old warehouse near the old docks attracted more customers than the big department stores right now.

Since the blip there never seemed to be enough of anything. Food, clothes, furniture, medicine - the production had gone way down in the five years that half of the population was gone. There was just neither the need nor the capacity to produce the same amounts of goods as before.

With everyone suddenly being back the demand had skyrocketed and every manufacturer was scrambling to keep up with it.

Food and medicine were of course the first priority for everyone, so things like furniture and clothing had to wait. One could live with old, used stuff, but not without essentials like food and medicine.

The first reaction to half of mankind returning had been of course ecstatic. People celebrated in the streets that day and the night that followed.

But when the first euphoria had subsided, the practical part of the situation had started to sink in. Literally with the snap of a finger the demand for everything had doubled.

Many of the returners had started digging through the piles of discarded things by the curbs that hadn’t been picked up in what seemed like ages. They had helped themselves to whatever was still usable. In the first days everyone made do with whatever they could find.

Then came the wave of donations.

In their enthusiasm over the return of their friends, family members, neighbors and coworkers every one of the remainers had tried to help the best they could. Some had taken in people, had fed and dressed them. Many had made donations. Clothing, food, toys, there was barely a thing that didn’t get donated in that first outpouring of help.

Then the resentment had come.

When goods had started to become scarce, many people had begun to resent the same people they had helped only a short while ago. The remainers had blamed the returners for the shortages and vice versa, people had eyed their neighbors suspiciously, if they were using more than what they deemed their “fair share”. People had started turning on the immigrants that they - after the snap - had happily welcomed to the country.

Resentments like these had been what finally had given rise to the Flag Smashers.

In the months since the Flag Smashers were gone the government had eventually managed to get the supply of food and medicine stabilized. There were still minor shortages, but the first full harvests since the blip in the southern parts of the country had alleviated most of the deficits and life was returning more and more to normal.

Despite that, prices were still very high. A lot of people still struggled to afford the bare necessities. So, while new goods were quite widely available by now most people did not yet have the means to buy them.

Thrift stores had become very popular since. They provided a cheaper alternative to the expensive new products.

Bucky was looking at the furniture pieces lined up in the far corner of the store, way behind the racks and racks of clothing, children’s toys and knick-knacks.

The cart he pushed was already filled with a few things. The cart was really getting on his nerves, because it had a broken wheel that wobbled about as the cart moved and that more than once had made the cart suddenly change direction. One time he almost had crashed the damn thing into one of the shelves with glassware.

Bucky had his eye on a coffee table that was in reasonably good shape. Yes, two of the legs were lose and made the table stand crooked and wobble at the slightest touch. It also had a big, rather deep scratch all across the surface, which was probably the reason why it was still here. But that was nothing he couldn’t fix.

The book shelf he had found at a curbside sale a week ago had been in worse shape when he picked it up for five dollars. Now it was as good as new. All it needed was a couple extra screws to stabilize things and some nails for good measure and it was standing straight again, ready to hold a whole book collection.

Not that he had a lot of books to put in the shelf yet, but he was working on that too. In the book section he had already found a couple old adventure novels he remembered from his youth, and he couldn’t wait to re-read them.

He picked up the coffee table and placed it upside down on top of his unruly shopping cart. He had decided that with this purchase he would have enough stuff for this week’s trip. The table and the other things would give him a few nice projects for the next few days.

He paid for his finds, the total being brought down by the veterans’ discount the store offered and that he always took advantage of. As usual he showed his military ID quickly, his finger trying to cover the birthdate, and pulled the ID away before anyone paid closer attention to his name.

But most of the time the young women at the checkout didn’t look closely anyway. ‘I do not get paid enough to care’-attitude was what Sam had called it once.

He took a cab home and ignored the displeased grumbling on the driver who complained that never in the history of cab driving someone was forced to transport dilapidated furniture in the back seat of his taxi cab.

At least the ride was only a few blocks. He tipped the driver handsomely for the inconvenience after moving all his new possessions into the lobby of his building, which seemed to make the man feel fairly bad about his earlier complaining. So, he grabbed and shook Bucky’s hand eagerly, thanking him enthusiastically, while all Bucky could do was nod, with a forced smile on his face.

After Bucky had peeled his hand out of the grip of the driver and the other man had returned to his car and driven off – not before he stopped next to the driver side door and thanked him again –, Bucky let out a sigh of relief.

He called the elevator, maneuvered his stuff inside and sent the cabin up to his level while he himself took the stairs. On his floor he unloaded

Once he had moved everything inside his place, he started unpacking. The books went straight on the shelf – he would find a system for them later. The most important part now was to fix up the table.

He grabbed his few tools – most of them had come from one of the thrift stores in the area too – and went to work.

He remembered his years working on the docks in Brooklyn better the more time passed. He remembered the skills he had picked up there on how to fix up things and started recalling the lessons his father had taught him.

Making due, living within modest means - that was the way his parents had brought him up. Like now times were lean back then.

Just like now during the depression there was not a lot of new stuff to be had and the things that were available were far outside the financial possibilities of most people. That was true for Bucky’s family too.

More than once his father had found discarded pieces of furniture on the streets where the wealthier people lived. He then had fixed them up in the courtyard of the tenement building they lived in. Often Bucky had helped him with that.

He also remembered his mother sewing dresses for his sister and herself from the fabrics of the flour and sugar sacks they bought at the warehouse. They came in colorful prints to make the clothes more appealing. Bucky was sure that more than one shirt he wore in his teens was made from a flour sack too. One time his mother even found one with a pattern for a stuffed animal for Rebecca’s birthday.

Scrimping and saving — and reusing everything possible — that was a way of life back then. Do it yourself was a necessity, not a trend like in modern times. In a sense this way of life felt familiar to Bucky in an almost comforting way.

Like he had expected a couple screws in the right places stabilized the table and when he flipped the table over, it stood securely on all four legs.

He got up and stretched his back for a moment before he moved the table in front of the couch where he wanted it. Then he took a step back and looked at it.

A little crooked smile crept on his face. With the bookshelf, the desk and now the table the place already looked so much less bare, a little more like someone actually lived here. Sure, it was still a long way from being as cozy as the apartment he grew up in, or Sarah’s or June’s places were. But it was a start. A start he was actually very proud of.

Bucky sat on his couch, legs resting on his new table, the new book he bought just a few days ago in his lap. He had spent the bigger part of the afternoon reading again.

Outside a thunderstorm was raging. The rain violently lashed against the windowpanes while the gusts of wind were howling around the corners of the building. Lightning flashed sporadically over the dark sky, illuminating the view outside his windows for mere moments, followed by the rumbling of thunder.

At first the crashing sound had startled him, reminded him of distant explosions from battles he had been in. He did have to remind himself a couple times that this was just the storm.

He wasn’t sure why he was so on edge today. This wasn’t his first thunderstorm. The weather in Romania could be quite fierce, as he had learned during his time there. Yet it never unsettled him like this.

Suddenly there was a different sound. A rumbling, close enough to thunder that a normal person wouldn’t have picked it up. But he did.

Instantly he could feel his palms getting sweaty. His whole body suddenly on edge, the hair in his neck standing up in alarm. He had been right after all.

Then, the next moment the sound of something crashing. Glass shattering. Men in black clothes and masks bursting through the broken windows of his living room, automatic weapons strapped to their chests.

There was almost a dozen of them and each of them readied their firearm as soon as they landed.

Bucky jumped up, the book in his lap being flung somewhere, disappearing between black boots dripping rain on his floor. He stumbled, trying to get some space between himself and the assailants, fell and landed on top of his new table that immediately broke underneath him.

Bucky awoke when his body hit the ground, a muffled scream escaping him. He scrambled to get up, disoriented, but only managed to sit up, steadying himself against the couch. His eyes darted around the dark room, panicked, and it took him a few moments to process.

There were no masked intruders in his place, no broken glass on the ground where they would have burst through the windows. The windowpanes were intact. Just the rain was gently tapping against the glass, the lightning flashing across the sky outside dipping the room in cold light.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and sank back, leaning his elbow on the ground. He could hear the pounding of his heart and the rushing of the blood in his ears. Running the other hand over his face he felt the sweat on his forehead. Only now he realized his whole body seemed to be covered in cold sweat.

He needed a few moments to catch his breath. When his racing heart finally had calmed down, he untangled himself from the blanket, that he had managed to wrap around his legs in his sleep.

He pushed himself up from the floor and collapsed back onto the couch that he had fallen off of during the nightmare and pulled the blanked over his bare chest. He was suddenly shivering, but it was not from the cold.

He’d had many nightmares over the years, but none of them had been like this.

Usually, his nightmares consisted of flashbacks to things he had done as the Winter Soldier. Images of places he had been to, of blood and mayhem. Visions of the faces of the people he'd hurt, memories of their screams and them pleading for their lives. This, however, was new and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Normally it was his past that haunted him in his dreams. The pain and suffering he had inflicted on people that still weighed on his conscience and probably forever would.

He laid back down on the couch, covering himself with the blanket and pulling his arm under his head. Staring into the darkness he tried to calm himself, focusing his mind on the familiar sounds of the city outside his window.

He was able to fell back asleep for a while when the first light of dawn crept above the horizon – a deep, dreamless sleep. When he awoke a while later, he felt at least somewhat rested.

After a quick shower he decided to take a bit of a walk to clear his head. The morning was balmy, the puddles of last night’s rain still on the ground, but drying quickly in the sun. It was a good morning to take a walk.

The smells coming from a small bagel shop made his stomach grumble and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything, and he decided to get some breakfast.

When he climbed the stairs to the third floor of his building a while later, he felt a little better. The bagel shop could possibly become one of his favorite food places. The bread was divine, even if he didn’t quite like the copious amounts of cream cheese people put on them.

The coffee he carried in a large paper cup in his hand however was a whole other story.

His thoughts were interrupted when he emerged from the staircase on his floor and saw June down the hall, just pulling the door of her apartment shut behind herself.

“Good morning”, he greeted her and noted somewhere on the edge of his mind the strange sensation in his chest that he couldn't quite place, when she turned to him with a bright smile. It felt foreign and unfamiliar and he made a mental note to monitor this.

“Well, good morning," she replied as she dropped the duffel bag, she had been carrying on the ground and fished in her sweater pocket for her keys. She locked the door behind her and turned around to Bucky approaching her.

"Here, let me help you with that", he offered and reached for the bag before she could even reply. She however eyed the large paper cup he held – something she was not used to seeing in his hand.

"What have you got there?“

Bucky shrugged.

"I went to this place called Starbuck’s. My therapist told me I should try out new things.“ June nodded slowly, still a quizzical look on her face.

"But?“ she inquired with a slight smirk. Bucky let out a sigh. This century still confused the ever loving daylights out of him.

"I didn’t know what to order so I asked the girl working there what she drinks. She gave me something called a white chocolate mocha with soy milk. And extra sprinkles!“

He had no idea what a white chocolate mocha was. Or soy milk for that matter. Was there something wrong with cow milk in America? He couldn’t recall any mention of soy milk in Romania. Also, who the hell even thought of the idea of putting sprinkles on a coffee? And who agreed that it was a good idea and decided to sell it? Or buy it respectively.

June tried to hold back a chuckle at his bewilderment and the way he had emphasized the extra sprinkles. His reactions to discovering things everyone else in the twenty first century found normal was peculiar and at the same time oddly endearing.

"I just wanted a damn coffee! Would you like a white chocolate mocha with extra sprinkles?” Bucky held the cup out to June. Maybe she - as someone who was used to the twenty first century - liked whatever this concoction was.

She laughed and took the cup from him.

“Sure. Why not.”

Bucky bent down to pick up the duffel bag – the same one he had carried for her when they had first met, he realized.

“Where do you keep going with all that stuff”, he asked a question he had meant to ask her for a while now but never found the right moment for. She cocked her head to one side and gave him a coy smile.

“Do you have any plans for today?” she replied. Bucky shook his head no in response.

“Alright then”, June said. “Help me take this stuff to where it needs to go and I show you. I promise, I will get you your coffee too. Deal?”

Her question came unexpected and he thought about it for a second. Maybe getting out of the house, finding something to keep him busy was not such a bad idea. And he had to admit he was kind of curious.

Bucky nodded.

“You got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Text

June steered her car north through Brooklyn into Queens. She followed a street that ran under elevated train tracks for a while to a large freeway and over the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge further into the Bronx.

A few miles down the road Bucky could see the new Yankees Stadium on a hill to his right. The bright exterior mirrored that of the old stadium, the one Bucky knew and had been to. But it dwarfed the original structure and lacked its charm. A sting in his heart reminded him that this was yet another thing from his life before Hydra that was irretrievably gone.

They passed underneath High Bridge a while later, the water tower on the other side of the Harlem River overlooking the wooded riverbank.

After almost an hour the traffic slowly grew less, as they left the downtown area further behind them. The freeway crossed through large parks, with lush trees, which made it feel like they were driving straight into the country for a while, before it led them back into the more urban neighborhoods of Yonkers.

June left the freeway and after a few bends of a minor road she turned onto a wide, sweeping driveway. Old trees scattered on a large, well-maintained lawn cast their cool shadows on the wide gravel path. The sand-colored front of what seemed to be an old mansion appeared behind the trees, as she steered her car slowly up the driveway.

One last turn finally revealed a sprawling three storied mansion behind a large, black wrought iron gate and an abandoned, moss-covered fountain in the middle of a large courtyard

As soon as June’s car passed the gate and came to a stop on the side of the courtyard a group of children came running from behind the trees where they had been playing. Their excited yelling and shouting drowned out the sound of the engine before June even turned off the car. Bucky still wasn’t sure what was going on, but it looked like her arrival had been eagerly awaited.

He jumped when someone ripped the door on his side of the car open. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense up, his heartrate rose abruptly, and he had to restrain himself from going into fight or flight mode. He felt the children rocking the car and then June’s hand for a moment calmingly touching his shoulder.

“Everyone over here!” she called out to the horde of children, as she exited her vehicle on the driver’s side and held a small canvas bag up in the air. The children seemed to understand the meaning of this gesture because they immediately flocked to her side of the vehicle and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He had not been prepared for this.

He watched her pass out chocolate bars to small hands that excitedly grabbed the candy from her and after a few moments the group of children dispersed with their bounties in hand as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind only the song of the birds and the rustling of the wind in the large old trees.

Finally, Bucky got out of the car too. His heartbeat had calmed down and he took a deep breath of the balmy spring air. Out here the air smelled different than in the city - earthier, cleaner and everything seemed slower, more tranquil out here.

“I’m sorry about that. They sometimes get a bit excited. We don’t get a lot of visitors here”, June explained apologetically. She rounded her car giving him a concerned look.

She could tell that the screaming of the children and their banging on the car were a trigger for him. She paused, standing next to him for a moment, brows furrowed and finally gingerly reached out for him.

“Are you alright?” She placed her hand lightly on his arm.

Bucky nodded and gave her a quick smile that was supposed to be reassuring and put her at ease. Then he turned his head and finally took a look at the large building looming in front of them.

The mansion looked like it had been transported here from a different time, stately and elegant.

Big rectangular pane glass windows dominated the fairly simple sandstone façade while dormers topped the grey slate roof. The only elaborate detail on the house large entrance door, framed by two tall pillars that carried delicate stone carvings. The windowpanes were decorated with children’s artwork.

“What is this place?” he finally asked.

“It’s an orphanage,” June replied, “for children whose parents died before they returned – from the blip.”

Bucky looked over at her and caught her gaze. Her voice sounded somber, less lighthearted than normally.

“The charity running this place is trying to find relatives of the kids to take them in. But many can’t take them with everything going on. And in some cases there is just nobody left. We are taking care of them.”

“I had no idea.” Bucky mumbled. June nodded quietly and shrugged her shoulders. Like so many things the cases of those children didn’t make the headlines in times like these.

“My school is supporting this place with donations. Mainly clothing and practical items. That’s the stuff I keep bringing here.”

So that’s what was in those bags. Bucky wasn’t really surprised. This was just like her.

“Do you want me to bring the bag inside?” he asked. June nodded. He grabbed the duffel bag from the rear of the car and followed her through the dark oak door.

The high vestibule was dark compared to the sunny outside. A wide marble step led them through an archway into a large Salon style room. Broad high windows that reached from the floor almost to the ceiling on the far side of the room revealed what must be a spectacular view over the Hudson River valley stretching out beneath them.

But June didn’t give him time to take in the view or the splendor of the salon. She turned right through a door into an office.

The walls were covered in dark wood paneling, a huge fireplace – now all boarded up – took up almost half of one side of the room. Three mismatched desks were set up in what probably was the most space saving way. At one of them an older woman was working on a laptop but turned around when she heard them enter.

“June!”

June gestured for Bucky to put the bag on the desk closest to him. That's when the other woman seemed to notice him.

“And you brought a friend! Another volunteer?”

“Let’s say a visitor for now,” June replied, cautiously trying to curb the older woman’s enthusiasm, “This is my friend Bucky. Bucky – this is Iris. She is the head of this operation here.”

Iris dismissed June’s words with a wave of her hand.

“What did you bring us this time, dear?” she changed the subject. June undid the closure of the duffel bag on the desk and showed her. It was full of children’s clothes.

“The school collected some more things.”

Iris clasped her hands in front of her chest.

“Oh, we need those badly! Tell your children thank you from all of us.”

June nodded in reply and watched Iris pull out pieces of clothing and examining them with a pleased look.

“Is Lisa in the Kitchen? I promised him a coffee and the grand tour,“ June finally asked with a slight head tilt towards Bucky. Iris confirmed and June signaled for Bucky to come with her.

They climbed a grand staircase leading to the second floor. The marble stairs were wide, the bottom steps gently curved around the edge. The elegant black wrought iron banister was decorated with paper garlands and colorful paper flowers cut out by children's hands.

Artwork decorated the hallways on the first floor too. A huge piece of fabric – a sheet maybe – decorated with the handprints of children, each of them labeled with a name. He assumed this was made by all the children who lived here.

He saw drawings of families, pictures of people turning to dust, paintings of children crying over a grave and it made him wonder about the stories of the kids living here.

June showed him bedrooms with bunk beds, colorful sheets and blankets trying to fight the dreary look of the metal bed frames. There were rooms for art therapy, music therapy and games.

The large old library on the first floor no longer held volumes of classical works bound in expensive leather but adventure novels and picture books. The dining room with the huge marble fireplace now no longer roomed a large table with fancy white tablecloth but rows of wooden tables and chairs for dozens of children.

They finished the tour back where they had started, at the grand staircase. Under the stairs a door led into a smaller, less fancy hallway and into a large kitchen. It was surprisingly modern, with a large industrial size cooking range and a huge stainless-steel refrigerator. Only the wooden cabinets along the walls seemed older.

In the middle of the room, with her back to the door, stood a stout curly haired woman cutting vegetables on a large table.

“Lisa!”

The other woman turned around when she heard June's cheerful voice calling her name, a big smile on her friendly face. She dropped the knife on the table and pulled June into a tight hug.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed. June returned the hug.

“You too Lisa. How are things here?”

“Same as always. Tons of work and never enough money,” Lisa replied. Then her eyes fell on Bucky. “You brought a friend!”

“Yeah - this is Bucky. Friend and neighbor.” Lisa nodded knowingly and then turned to Bucky.

She seemed the warm-hearted motherly type like his Hungarian neighbor back in the thirties and for a moment Bucky wasn’t sure if she was going to try and hug him too. He involuntarily felt his back and shoulders tense up. But she either sensed his discomfort or he had been mistaken, as she made no attempt to embrace him and instead said:

“Welcome to Riverside Manor. June told me a lot about you.” Bucky flinched.

“Oh, don’t worry, she speaks very highly of you,” Lisa added, and Bucky gave her a somewhat forced smile.

Her words made him strangely uncomfortable. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that June had told other people about him.

To him it was natural to keep things to himself. Not that he talked to a lot of people to begin with. But he barely had mentioned her to Sam, and Sam was about the only other friend he had. The only person who really knew anything about June was Dr. Raynor and she was his therapist, so she didn’t really count anyway, did she?

For some reason he never even thought about that June could talk to others about him. And now that he did ... what had she told them? What did they know? Did they know who he was – who he used to be?

He looked down at his gloved left hand. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and his usual leather glove that disguised his unmistakable arm. The weather was still cool enough for the shirt to not look out of place. The sweltering summer heat that would descend on the city in only a few weeks would change that soon, but right now he was still good.

He looked up when he heard someone say his name.

“How did you want your coffee, dear?” Lisa asked. She had a large mug in her hand that she was just now filling with coffee from a large pot.

“Black is fine, thank you,” he replied and took the mug when she handed it to him.

Lisa offered June a coffee too, but June declined.

“Thanks, but I’m good. I had a white chocolate mocha on the way here.” She gave Bucky a mischievous look and added: “With EXTRA sprinkles.”

He quietly chuckled to himself and took a sip of his own coffee. This was all he needed. A simple black coffee, no weird concoctions like this morning. His eyes were directed towards the ground, so he didn’t notice Lisa looking from June to him and back with a frown.

He leaned against one of the kitchen cabinets, sipping his hot coffee, while June took an apron from a hook by the door and put it on. She wrapped the ties around her waist and tied it into a bow before then washing her hands before she picked up a knife and helped Lisa with the vegetables.

The women had a lot to catch up about. Bucky listened to their voices without paying attention to the words spoken and he was fine with stepping aside for a while and disappearing into the background.

“I haven’t seen Gina yet. Is she here?” he heard June ask after a while. He had almost finished his coffee and had just directed his thoughts back at the conversation in front of him to catch Lisa’s reply.

“She will be back soon, she is just picking up Phil from the hospital.”

“The hospital? What happened?”

“Didn’t they tell you?” Lisa was clearly surprised. “He broke his leg yesterday. He is renovating one of the upper bedrooms. We have three more boys moving in next week and he was getting the room ready, but he fell and broke his leg.”

“That’s awful. Poor Phil.”

“And of course, the room isn’t going to be ready either. We will have to hire someone to do it. Not that we have the money to spare....”

Lisas shoulder slumped as a deep sigh left her lips. Bucky could tell she was worried – June was too.

"I could help,” Bucky interjected into the silence. The words came out of his mouth before he even thought about it and the women turned to him with a surprised expression.

“You don’t have to. I didn’t bring you along because I wanted an extra pair of hands”, said June.

“Yes, you are a guest you shouldn’t have to work,” Lisa concurred.

“I am already here, and I really don’t mind,” Bucky corroborated. He saw Lisa give June a quick side glance.

“It would be a lot of work. The floors are a mess, the walls need to be spackled. The furniture is still stored in the carriage house and needs to be fixed too ...”
Lisa listed. She still sounded reluctant, but it seemed to him like she was actually considering his offer.

"I really don’t mind helping,” Bucky assured mainly towards June. She still seemed concerned that he should think she brought him along because she wanted to put him to work. He knew she didn’t. He knew her to well to even consider this possibility for a mere second.

He emptied the rest of his coffee, placed the mug on the counter by the sink and signaled for them to lead the way.

The room in question was one of the unused of the bedrooms on the third floor. A large, sunny room with a vaulted ceiling on one side and a window in a dormer that overlooked the driveway with the fountain.

According to Lisa the mansion had almost thirty bedrooms and the orphanage was currently only using about half of them while the renovations were still going on.

The bedrooms he had seen earlier on his tour were fairly crammed. Several bunk beds in each room, little to no privacy. Now he understood why. Clearly the rooms on the third floor hadn’t been well taken care of for probably decades and needed a lot of work before they could be used.

“As you can see Phil was just fixing up the walls before the floors go in.”

Iris had joined them on the third floor to give Bucky an idea of what needed to be done. Bucky nodded. He could see the cracks and holes in the plaster and that the walls needed a coat of paint. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

The flooring was already here, still in the boxes and ready to be put in and all the tools he needed seemed to be present too.

“You think you will be ok?” Iris asked. Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, nothing I can’t handle,” he assured her. He could see the relief on the faces of all three women.

“We will leave you to it then,” Iris said and then turned to June and Lisa. “You will make sure to get him some lemonade.”

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he heard heavy steps on the stairs outside, accompanied by the angry muttering and mumbling of a male voice.

He was finished with fixing all the cracks in the plaster and was just about done with the first coat of paint. June had checked in on him a few times in between, bringing him fresh lemonade and asking him if he needed anything.

She told him that she helped cooking most weekends and did checkups on the kids – she was a nurse after all.

Bucky could tell she still felt guilty about him being put to work after she just wanted to show him where she went most weekends. But he had to admit he almost enjoyed this. Not the work per se but the feeling of being useful.

The steps and grumbling came closer and ended at the door followed by a male voice proclaiming:

“Ah-hah!”

The man – a guy Bucky would have placed in his 60s, short, a bit stocky with a receding hairline – just stood in the doorway leaning on two crutches, his leg in a big cast. He glared ad Bucky angrily and Bucky placed the paint roller on the ground and stood up. This had to be Phil.

“So, you are the guy they are letting use my tools.”

Bucky nodded to which the other man replied with a scoff.

“We have to get the room ready, and he offered to help,” a female voice belonging to a middle aged very elegantly dressed woman tried to explain but Phil just made a huffing sound at her.

“Let me see how you messed up my work,” Phil grumbled towards Bucky and all Bucky could do was step aside and let him.

Behind his back the lady mouthed the words “I’m sorry” at Bucky. Meanwhile Phil hobbled over to the wall that Bucky just had finished and examined Bucky’s work with a frown.

He limped along the walls on his crutches looking for any flaws in Bucky’s work. He frowned and scowled while making disapproving noises, but in the end, he almost seemed disappointed when he couldn’t point out anything wrong in Bucky’s work.

The elegant lady finally decided to step into the room and come to Bucky’s rescue.

“Phil, I really think you should rest, why don’t you ...”

“I don’t need rest, Gina! I am rested enough! I spend the last twenty-four hours in a damn hospital bed!” Phil interrupted her impatiently and she raised her hands in defeat. Phil hobbled over to a wooden chair in the corner of the room and sat down, putting the crutches on the floor next to him and crossing the arms in front of his chest.

“I will make sure things are done right here.”

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the walls and then putting in the flooring under Phil’s scrutinizing eyes and instruction. The flooring was different from anything Bucky knew. It consisted of large vinyl covered panels that snapped together with some sort of tongue and groove system and once he got the hang of it, it worked up really quickly and seemed sturdy and durable.

At first Phil was standoffish and gruff, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was standoffish with people himself all the time, how could he blame someone else for the same attitude. But after a while of watching Bucky work Phil seemed to warm up to him.

Bucky had gathered quickly that Phil had no idea who he was. The older man had asked him about the leather glove only once.

Apparently, June had told them that he had been in the military, so when Phil asked him if he had scarring from an injury, Bucky just confirmed without further explanation. It was as good an excuse as any, and Phil just had nodded understandingly.

Apparently, Phil had been in the military too, many years ago and had fought at something named the Invasion of Grenada. Bucky still wasn’t quite caught up on history. There was still much about the years he was in Cryo that he didn’t know. This Invasion was one of these things and he had decided to look it up later on.

Phil also started to talk about the times before the Blip and Bucky let him, listening to the stories of Phil growing up in Queens in the sixties.

Bucky knew Phil assumed he was telling him stories from before he was born. But for Bucky the stories from these days were almost like a bridge that closed the gap separating the time he grew up in and the time he was tossed into. It was like a window into the years he had missed, into how the world that had changed so rapidly for himself had in reality had changed very slowly.

By the time they finished the floor Bucky felt like the other man had almost accepted him.

He helped Phil down the stairs. Phil protested loudly, assuring Bucky that he was perfectly fine and could handle the stairs by himself, but he didn’t fight when Bucky took one of the crutches so he could use the handrail and held on to his arm in case the older man slipped.

In the kitchen Lisa told him June was about to finish up the checkups of the kids and that they both were of course staying for dinner. 'After all your hard work feeding you is the least, we can do'.

Iris from the office showed Bucky to one of the bathrooms where he could get cleaned up before dinner and handed him a few towels before closing the door. He took off his shirt and turned on the faucet.

Small hexagon shaped tiles on the floor in black and white made the room look the adorably old-fashioned together with the waist high wall tiles and the nostalgic floral wallpaper above.

Clearly the sink and toilet had been replaced at some point but the adorable cast iron clawfoot bathtub was still there, albeit now with a modern shower curtain surrounding it.

After he was freshened up, he decided to inspect the state of his shirt. He didn’t care about whether it was ruined or not, but he didn’t really want to sit down for dinner with everyone in a stained and sweaty shirt.

A gentle knock on the bathroom door interrupted his attempt to carefully scrub a paint stain out of the dark fabric.

“Bucky? You still in there? Phil sent me to bring you a fresh shirt.” June’s voice sounded muffled through the heavy wooden door.

Bucky put the shirt down, relieved that he didn’t have to attempt to clean the paint out of it.

“Yeah. Be right there,” he replied. He turned the old-fashioned brass key in the lock and opened the door a crack, holding the towel in front of his chest with his real arm.

Outside the door stood June. She seemed a little surprised. She held a grey and blue plaid button down shirt towards him.

“Phil says this might fit you.”

Bucky nodded and pushed the door open a bit further to take the shirt.

June gasped, when his metal arm, which had been hidden behind the door so far was suddenly revealed, when he reached with it for the shirt.

He saw the look on her face, her eyes widened in shock at the sight, and he froze mid motion. He remained like this for a few seconds, his hand suspended somewhere halfway between the door and her hand. He could feel her look on his shoulder like a burning sensation, lingering on that line, the scarred tissue where the metal arm met his flesh.

He unfroze, pulling his arm back, when she realized she was staring and quickly averted her gaze. Her cheeks turned red and she bit her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry! Here is the shirt.” She motioned her hand holding the shirt towards him, her eyes still locked onto a random spot on the wall next to the bathroom door.

He dropped the towel to the floor and took the shirt from her before he hastily closed the door again. Inside he sank against the cold tiled wall with a muffled groan, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“I’ll be downstairs in the office,” June announced through the closed door, her voice sounding a bit unsteady, before he heard her footsteps leading away from the door.

Chapter Text

Darkness had started creeping up from the horizon behind the city when they left to drive back. The freeway leading them south, back into New York city was less busy this time of day.

Occasionally the headlights of an oncoming vehicle threw its light on the inside of Junes car, but for the most part it was dark on their way home. The radio played quietly in the background, songs he didn’t know, but he was grateful for the music to keep the silence away.

June seemed to have picked up on his mood and let him sit in silence, occasionally glancing over at him, and Bucky appreciated her not attempting to try to make him talk.

They hadn’t been alone since the incident at the bathroom. When he had come down the stairs the women were busy herding the children into the large dining room where dinner had been about to be served.

He had joined the adults at a separate table and quietly listened to the conversations between them without really paying attention to anything said. June had been sitting next to him, but he had avoided looking at her for too long while she had been talking. Soon after they had to head back home.

They were about to cross the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge back into Queens, the brightly lit skyline of Manhattan coming into view ahead of them, when she broke the silence.

“I am sorry about earlier. I – I didn’t mean to stare.”

Bucky turned towards her. His gaze met hers for a brief moment when June took her eyes off the road for a second to look at him.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a dismissive hand gesture, trying to sound indifferent, but not quite sure if he succeeded. But June emphatically shook her head no.

“No, it’s not. It was rude and – insensitive of me and I am really sorry.”

Bucky took a deep breath, taking a few seconds to try and find the right words, while June left the freeway, turning south towards Brooklyn. It wasn’t the staring that bothered him. If he really thought about it, it wasn’t even bothering him really.

He felt almost relieved that she had seen it. It was almost like the band aid had been ripped of unexpectedly.

“I appreciate you saying that, but don’t even worry about it. Really! I am not offended. Hell, I still stare at it when I look in the mirror sometimes.”

He tried to sound lighthearted and assumed he had succeeded when he heard June snicker. She clapped her hand in front of her mouth stifling her laughter.

“I'm sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh.” She blurted out only to immediately giggle some more.

“I mean it! Stop apologizing!”

“I’m sorry! I just imagined you staring at your arm in the mirror…” she giggled again at the thought of it and when she tried not to, it made her laugh even harder. The car swerved slightly, before she stopped at the next red light. Bucky chuckled quietly.

“You are awful, making me laugh while I am driving. I am gonna crash into one of those parked cars,” she scolded him, still giggling.

“I promise I will behave now,” he assured her, and she gave him a good-natured little nudge.

“You better!”

Back in their own neighborhood June circled the block looking for a parking spot. She was lucky to catch someone just as they were leaving in their car and the spot was just a block over from their apartment. She expertly backed the car into the narrow space and turned the engine off.

They walked the short distance to their building and Bucky unlocked the door and held it open for June before stepping through himself.

He walked her to her door, ignoring her protest that he didn’t have to, and while she was still fishing for her keys in her purse she suddenly turned around and gave him a long look.

“Bucky, I really can’t thank you enough for helping out at the orphanage today,” She finally said quietly, “that was so very kind of you. I really don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Bucky uncomfortably shrugged his shoulders and buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t lift his gaze from the floor in front of his feet, clearing his throat, not sure what to say.

“It’s no big deal,” he eventually mumbled almost dismissively because he wasn’t sure what the proper response should be.

Her heartfelt thanks made him feel strangely uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being thanked. Not the passing, casual ‘thanks’ of a stranger when he held a door open for someone, or something like that. Those didn’t count because they didn’t mean anything. They were just an empty phrase. Really being thanked like this - it still felt unfamiliar and strange.

For the longest time he had thought he didn’t deserve thanks. That this was something reserved for people who did not have to work off a debt like he had, who didn’t have to make reparations for the evil they had done. Something he would still have to earn.

“I think it is a very big deal!” June’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he gave her a skeptical side glance.

“After everything you have been put through you haven’t become cold or uncaring. You still just help where help is needed for no other reason than that you can. After everything that was taken from you, you still – give. Just out of the goodness of you heart.” She interrupted herself twisting the strap of her purse between her fingers. Her eyes cast down towards her hands she was chewing on her bottom lip uncertainly.

When she looked back up at him their eyes locked. He felt her hand touch his, not squeezing it like she had done so many times before, to reassure him or comfort him, just gently holding on.

“You are one of the good guys, you know that, right?”

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Bucky swallowed hard and – at a loss for words – just nodded quietly. He wasn’t sure if it was true what she said or even less if he believed it. Right now, his mind was still focused on June’s hand on his, lingering there for a moment longer than anticipated before she withdrew it.

She cleared her throat and sheepishly looked away. She started digging in her purse again to busy herself until she finally pulled out her keys.

“Good night, Bucky.”

He goodbye came somewhat abruptly, and she seemed suddenly awkward almost nervous.

“Good night,” he replied and turned to leave. He proceeded down the hallway towards his own door but stopped in his tracks when he heard June’s door unlock and open with a tiny squeak.

“Hey June?” he asked. Her hand still on the doorknob she gave him a questioning look.

“Yes?”

“Pick me up next Saturday when you go see the kids, would you? I’ll help Phil finish the room.”

The soft chime from Dr. Raynor’s clock signaled the end of their session for this week. Bucky couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. No matter how much this whole thing helped him, he would probably never enjoy his sessions here.

Dr. Raynor looked up at the clock and nodded. Her one hand fished for her planner on the table next to her.

"I will be at a conference next week, so I won't be here for our regular Thursday appointments. I would like to see you Saturday instead", she said and attempted to scribble his name into one of the lines of her Saturday timetable. Bucky groaned.

"I can't,” he objected.

With a deep sigh Dr Raynor put down the pen and the planner in her lap and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Over the last few months, she really had thought they had finally moved past his refusal to accept help.

"James, I thought we were over this and you actually wanted to get better. We agreed you come in once a week." she scolded him, disappointment in her voice. Bucky sighed.

"Look, I really can't" he repeated, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Pick another day, any day. But Saturday I got plans."

The eyebrows of the therapist shot up in surprise and she gave her patient a long inquisitive look.

"Plans", she echoed in disbelief, "would you care to share those plans with me?"

"Not particularly..."

Bucky hadn’t meant to sound as abrasive as his words had come out and he remorsefully lowered his eyes. He stared at the carpet in front of his feet for a few seconds before he looked up again. She still eyed him with a suspicious look.

"I'm volunteering, OK?!" he finally blurted out. She furrowed her brows. She needed a few moments to process what she just heard.

"Volunteering for what?" She eventually inquired. Bucky rubbed his face with his real hand.

"Not for. AT. I am volunteering AT an orphanage" he conceded reluctantly. He caught her piercing gaze and quickly turned his head to look through the large glass windows to his left to avoid it.

"Consider me surprised." he heard her say. Still avoiding eye contact with her he shrugged.

"I am still making amends, right?" he asked.

"I am impressed, James, I have to say, I didn't expect that", she finally admitted, her voice sounding softer this time, almost gentle and he gave her a doubtful look. Even her face seemed softer suddenly.

"Yeah, well, they needed help..." he mumbled as if that was explanation enough.

The sound of someone knocking on the door interrupted him. The door opened quietly and Dr. Raynor’s assistant peeked in through the gap. Without a word she exchanged a look with the psychologist and then discretely withdrew back into the waiting room when Dr. Raynor softly shook her head no. Apparently the therapist was not ready to let him leave just yet.

“Would you like to tell me how that came about?”

Bucky groaned quietly. Of course, she would start asking questions about that.

“I went there last weekend with June,” he explained. He paused, waiting for her to say something but she just gave him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

“The groundskeeper is injured, they need help. They can’t hire anyone, so I am helping them”, he rattled off, slightly annoyed because he was not sure what she was expecting him to say. They needed help and he was helping, what else was there to elaborate about?

“That is very kind of you.” she commented. Bucky shrugged making an innocuous noise in return.

“James...” she interrupted herself, tapping the pen she had been twisting between her fingers against the armrest of her chair, while she seemed to deliberate over the words she was about to speak.

“This is a big step, James.”

He gave her a questioning look

“Showing trustworthy behavior is also a big part in learning to trust again. Often an even bigger step than recognizing trustworthy behavior in others. Helping others is a big part of this.”

Bucky shrugged, looking at his hands, one gloved, the other not. Hands that had caused so much pain, suffering and death for so many years, sometimes he still caught himself thinking that he would never be able to wash the blood away, to repay his debt to the world.

But making amends wasn’t the main reason he was helping the orphanage out. It simply felt good to be doing something useful that had a positive impact on the world. Something that didn’t include fighting bad guys, mayhem and destruction, but creating something, building something. And not just anything, but something that helped someone, some innocent children that the world had forgotten about in its upheaval. Them and the kind people who tried to provide for them.

“I am just trying to help some friends.” he muttered dismissively.

He realized only after had spoken that he had referred to the people at the orphanage as friends. Dr Raynor seemed to have picked up on that too as she raised her brows inquisitively.

She was about to say something when the door opened again, and her assistant returned. This time the young nurse did not retreat but instead gave the therapist a stern look.

“Doctor?” she just asked and Dr. Raynor replied with a nod. Then Dr. Raynor abruptly got up, signaling that the session now definitely was at an end. Bucky pushed himself up from the little grey couch.

"I am afraid we are really out of time now, James," the therapist said apologetically, "but I would love to hear more about this orphanage in - two weeks."

Bucky gave her a suspicious look, but she smiled back at him.

"I feel like you are making some real progress, James, and I believe we can skip a week without it affecting your progress negatively.”

She took one of her business cards from the card holder on the table next to the door and scribbled something on the back.

“This is my work cellphone. If you need to contact me for whatever reason, I will have this phone on me at all times.”

“I won’t need it,” he stated categorically, making no attempt to take the card she held out to him.

“No, I don’t think you will,” she replied honestly, making a small hand gesture that finally prompted him to accept the business-card. He looked at it quickly, her neat handwriting before he put it in his pocket and nodded when she added:

“But it will make me feel better to know you can reach me.”

Chapter Text

Saturday came quickly after his Thursday appointment with Dr. Raynor. He spent Friday rummaging through the two thrift stores in the area, not looking for anything specific but always keeping his eyes open for something useful for his place.

In the end he only bought two new books to read before walking home.

The following morning, he was up hours before June finally showed up at his door asking him if he was still serious about going with her again. In response he just grabbed his backpack from where he had placed it next to the door and his keys from the kitchen counter.

Like last time, June drove them all the way to Yonkers in her little sedan, more donations for the orphanage that her school had collected in the trunk.

This time Bucky also came prepared. He had his backpack with him that held a clean set of clothes to change into after the work was done, as well as Phil’s shirt washed and neatly folded.

He had tried washing the paint stains out of the shirt he had worn last weekend, but the paint had permanently stained it. No amount of washing would get the paint out. So, he made a virtue of necessity and decided to wear the same one to work again. No use ruining another one.

The day was sunny and there was barely a cloud in the sky. The temperature was still not too warm, and when they left the busy six lane freeway behind and drove through the forested area just before Yonkers, he opened the car window to let in the mild summer wind.

This time, when they arrived at the orphanage and the children came running towards June’s car, he was prepared for the ruckus. It didn’t startle him like last time, and their excitement actually made him smile.

June had barely locked the car when Iris came almost running out of the big front door. When she saw June and Bucky, she sighed a breath of relief.

“When I heard your car, I thought the boys were already coming!” she exclaimed and gave June a quick hug. Then she looked over at Bucky.

“You came back!” her voice cracked, and she looked at Bucky, as if she was about to cry.

“I don’t leave work unfinished,” he replied with a shrug. Iris spread her arm out for a moment as if she was about to give him a hug too, but then decided against it.

“I was sure we scared you away, dumping all that work on you.” She gave him a sheepish smile that he returned.

“Where is Phil?” Bucky asked back instead of replying to Iris’ comment.

“Oh, he is in the shed where we keep the furniture,” she then stated and - pointing in the direction of the side wing of the Mansion - added: “This way around back is the garages.”

June offered to bring his backpack inside and leave it in the office so he could go see how Phil was getting along and he took her offer, handing her the backpack before following Iris’ directions to the garage.

He rounded the corner of the side wing, where some thick Jasmin trees grew. They were cut back to form a path along the wall of the building but above him the limbs reached all the way to the walls. The trees were in full bloom, white flowers dotting the branches, their sweet scent heavy in the air. In the trees some birds sang, and a gust of wind rustled the leaves and had some white petals rain down on him.

Bucky paused for a moment in the cool shade, reveling for a moment in the tranquility. What a place this was. There were no sirens wailing, no cars honking, no constant low buzzing of traffic. He could barely make out the sounds from the street nearby.

Then suddenly the calm was interrupted by a loud clanking followed by the angry cursing of a male voice. Phil.

Bucky rushed around the corner ahead of him and found himself standing right in front of a large open garage door. In the garage he could still hear Phil cursing and once his eyes had adjusted to the lower lighting in the garage, he could make out details.

It was a complete workshop, with power tools set up along the walls and partly disassembled furniture in the middle. And next to the parts of a large bunk bed sat Phil on a stool, his broken leg stretched out next to him trying to fish for a screwdriver he must have had dropped.

“Careful there!” Bucky exclaimed and his voice made the older man jump.

“Jesus Christ!” Phil yelled and turned around to him. “OH! It’s you! Did they teach you in the military to creep up on people like this?” He tried to sound annoyed, but Bucky didn’t quite buy it. There was a hint of relief in the other man’s voice after all.

Bucky smiled sadly.

“Yes. The military…” he mumbled, allowing his mind to dwell only for a moment on his training as the Winter Soldier and the times he used his training to creep up on his victims. Then he took a deep breath and focused his thoughts at the things in front of him, pushing away all unpleasant memories.

“What were you trying to do here? You can barely stand.”

Bucky crouched down and handed Phil the tool back before he examined the pieces of the bunk bed.

“The bracket is broken. I was trying to replace it,” Phil replied pointing at the bent bracket of the wooden bedframe. It wasn’t a difficult task, Bucky was sure the other man could have handled it just fine under normal circumstances, it was just his broken leg and the bulky cast that seriously hindered his movements and made it impossible.

“Well…” he stated ad held his hand out for Phil to give him the screwdriver back, “let’s get this taken care of, shall we?”

By the time the new boys arrived in the grey hatchback vehicle of the social worker Bucky and Phil had managed to finish setting up the new bedroom. Bucky had hauled most of the pieces up the stairs by himself and had only allowed Phil to help assemble the furniture where absolutely necessary.

Iris had put the colorful sheets on the bed and arranged a few stuffed animals on the beds to make it more welcoming and at least resemble a home.

The three boys emerging from the car were all three probably no older than twelve years. Shy and timid they looked around the place barely looking all the people in the face that had gathered to welcome them. They clutched the bags with their belongings in their small hands as if it was a life belt.

Bucky couldn’t even imagine how scary and confusing the whole experience must have been for them. He remembered his own terror when he saw his own limbs disintegrate into dust before his eyes, the feeling when he suddenly found himself in a completely changed environment. He could still vividly recall the confusion when he learned that in what had been the blink of an eye for him five years had passed for everyone else.

He tried to picture being ten years old, experiencing this and then finding out that your parents were gone upon your return. He couldn’t.

He watched as the social worker introduced the boys to Iris and Gina who approached them carefully. Bucky was standing further in the back, trying to stay out of this whole thing as much as he could, together with June and Phil. He didn’t pay attention to the words spoken between the caretakers and the children; he was too lost in his thoughts.

But while he was absentmindedly looking at the scene unfolding in front of him suddenly his eyes met those of one of the boys. The eyes of the child grew wide, and his mouth opened as if he was about to say something but then didn’t. He raised his arm to point at Bucky – that was when Bucky snapped out of his trance.

Bucky heard June inhale sharply next to him, when she saw the expression of surprise came over the kid and knew it was too late to try to hide his face and a familiar sensation started crawling up his neck before the boy had even spoken the words.

“That’s the WINTER SOLDIER!”

The cold tingling in his neck started to spread when the social worker and the caretakers of the orphanage turned their head to face him. He could hear his heart beat faster and knew he had to get out of here.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped and turned around to leave. He heard June quietly call out his name after him as he hastily walked away, and he just shook his head no and raised his hand defensively. He didn’t want her to follow him right now.

He followed the path around the side of the building like earlier today, past the garage and stumbled across the gravel driveway towards the large overgrown garden that spread out on this side of the mansion.

His heart still hammering in his chest he didn’t pay attention to where he walked, to the neglected flowerbeds along his way or to the untended shrubs that were overrunning the paths and decorations.

He finally stopped when he reached a secluded area that was separated from the rest of the park by trees and hedges that must once have been tended to by a gardener but now were in a pitiful state. A little statue in the middle of a pond, overgrown by moss was the centerpiece of this little oasis.

Bucky looked around him, still breathing heavily and finally sank onto the stone edge of the now dried out basin. He tried to ground himself with his now familiar routine, naming and focusing on something he could see, hear, feel, smell.

The warmth of the stone, heated up by the sun, the birds singing in the trees, the fragile little statue in the middle of the pond, the scent of the plants around him.

Slowly he could feel himself calm down, but he didn’t leave. Even after his breath and heart had slowed to normal and his hands had stopped shaking, he stayed, sitting there by himself.

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there. It must have been a while, because the sun had already moved behind the large tree at the side of the garden when his hearing picked up the pattering of little feet coming closer.

He looked up when the steps suddenly stopped just a few yards away from him and his gaze met that of the little boy from earlier.

The kid didn’t seem to be afraid of him, although he didn’t come any closer. He just warily kept his distance while eyeing Bucky with big curious eyes.

“Are you lost?” Bucky finally asked. The kid slowly shook his head no.

“Are you trying to be alone?”

This time the kid nodded in response. Bucky smiled understandingly.

“Yeah, me too.”

He looked down at his hands again. His leather glove that started to get a little worn from working. He hadn’t noticed that until just now, when he saw the leather on the fingertips getting brittle and thin. He would have to buy new ones soon if he kept helping here.

He was lost in his own thoughts he when he suddenly felt a small person sit down next to him on the stone. He gave the kid a quick glance and saw that he was mimicking his posture, slightly bent forward, elbows leaning on his thighs.

The boy was maybe ten years old, a little, scrawny thing with unruly dark hair and a solemn, serious expression. He reminded him a little of Steve back in the day.

Bucky averted his gaze back down, smiling to himself. After a few moments he heard the kid move and take a deep breath before his little voice piped up.

“Are you really the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“I was,” he replied truthfully, “But that’s not who I am anymore.” The boy made a perplexed noise and seemed to ponder over Bucky’s words for a while.

“Who are you now?” he eventually asked.

“I am just Bucky Barnes now,” Bucky replied. “And you are?”

“I am Frankie.”

Bucky held out his hand to the kid who hesitantly accepted the handshake. The little boy’s hand was tiny compared to Bucky’s, and it felt fragile and delicate in his.

“Why are you trying to be alone?” Bucky asked, after the kid withdrew his hand. The little boy shrugged and then crossed the arms in front of his chest in a defensive manner, almost as if to protect himself.

“Are you scared?”

Again, the child replied with a nod of his head instead of words.

“Don’t worry, you will like it here. The people here are nice.” Bucky assured him, trying to sound encouraging, but not sure if he had succeeded. The boy gave him a doubtful look.

“Were the people you were with before not nice?” Bucky asked.

Frankie seemed to shrink at the mere thought of the people he was with before. He ducked his head, pulled up his shoulders and his little skinny arms moved closer to his tiny body. Then he slowly shook his head no.

Bucky let out a sigh. June had told him some of the stories of the children here and some of them were so heartbreaking that they were hard to fathom. It seemed like this was another one just like them.

“Why do you want to be alone?” Frankie spoke up after a while. Bucky took a deep breath, looking down at the tiny person next to him.

“You know,” he contemplated, “I think I was a little scared too.”

“Why?”

Bucky sighed, wrecking his brain trying to find the words to explain to this little boy what exactly it was that was scaring him.

“Sometimes, when people find out who I was, they are not very nice to me either,” he finally answered. Frankie looked at him with this somber expression of his and nodded. That was something he could understand.

“I like you,” he then assured Bucky innocently, making the super soldier smile.

Bucky was just about to say something in return when his improved hearing picked up voices coming from the direction of the mansion. Female voices, probably Iris and Lisa, calling out for Frankie.

“They are looking for us,” he said, turning towards the little boy, “Shall we go back?”

He instinctively held his hand out to the boy and Frankie – though hesitating at first – finally nodded and put his little hand in Bucky’s. Together they got up from their seat and slowly started heading back towards the voices Bucky still could hear.

When they got closer Bucky called back to them and a moment later Lisa came running around the corner of a path. The woman stopped dead in her tracks, breathless from searching for Frankie in the sprawling park and exclaimed:

“Good Lord, Frankie! We were worried sick!”

She took a step towards them, but Frankie grabbed hold of Bucky’s arm and almost hid behind him. Bucky have the little boys hand a squeeze.

“We are fine,” he promised Lisa and gave her a reassuring smile. She nodded, understanding with one glance that the little boy had taken to Bucky for some reason.

“How about we go back and tell the others everything is alright?” she suggested towards Frankie and held her hand out for him to take it. But the little boy hesitated. Instead

When Frankie didn’t let go of his hand Bucky glanced down at him. The boys' big eyes looked trustingly up to him almost as if he was waiting for Bucky’s permission.

Bucky gave him a smile and a reassuring nod and slightly steering him towards Lisa. Only then Frankie nodded and finally released his grip on Bucky’s hand to follow Lisa back to the house.

Chapter Text

The sunset in the west painted the clouds in a million shades of red and purple. Flaming red and pink near the horizon fading to an almost blue violet color above them.

Bucky stood on the large terrace of Riverside Manor, leaning against the stone balustrade that was still warm to the touch after the sunny May day. The sunset reminded him of Wakanda, the vibrant colors lighting up the sky over the forested shore on the other side of the river.

June was still inside the old mansion, taking care of some paperwork somewhere, part of her duties as the resident nurse of this charity.

They had joined the whole house for dinner again, like last week, seated at a table with the other caretakers, while the kids were seated at their own. After dinner June had excused herself to finish up her paperwork before they headed back to Brooklyn, and Bucky had told her to take all the time she needed.

Since the kids had gone to bed by now, and the house had quieted down, most of the caretakers had gathered in the big kitchen. Meanwhile Bucky had taken his leave and found a quiet spot on the large terrace, overlooking the river valley.

He preferred to be alone right now after this tumultuous day and the others seemed to understand, because nobody had tried to follow him or hold him back.

Lost in thoughts he twisted the mug in his hands, wishing there was something stronger than tea in it right now. Not that it would have mattered, he couldn’t get drunk anyway, but he would have welcomed the burn of a glass of Whiskey.

From what he had gathered, word about his identity had spread quickly after the arrival of the boys. He had caught both the children and the adults secretly staring at him throughout the evening. The adults less obvious and unabashedly than the children but, nonetheless.

They probably were talking about him right now, that they finally were amongst themselves, without the risk of the children overhearing. He couldn’t blame them really. But it still, it stung.

Tired of standing he strolled over to the stone steps that gapped the height difference between the stone porch and the lawn. He sat down on one of the lower steps and stretched out his legs.

When he heard a door behind him open, he assumed for a moment, that it was June, who had come to tell him that she was ready to head back. But the steps didn’t sound like Junes at all.

When he looked up, he was surprised to see Lisa standing over him.

“Mind if I join you?”

Bucky shrugged and pointed at the steps next to him with an inviting gesture.

“Be my guest.”

She clumsily climbed down the stairs – only now Bucky realized that one of her legs was shorter than the other, compensated for by a thicker sole on her shoe on the shorter leg.

She plopped next to him onto the steps with a groan and then needed a minute to catch her breath.

Bucky sat in silence, waiting for her to say something. He was certain she hadn’t just come to find him only to sit here. There was something she had to say to him.

“I have a son,” she finally said. “His name is Brian.”

She paused for a moment and Bucky shifted uncomfortably.

“Twenty years ago, he was deployed. Some godforsaken outposts in Afghanistan. He saw things nobody should have to see. When he came back, he was – different. He couldn’t forget what he experienced there.”

Bucky looked over at Lisa trying to figure out where she was going with that, but she didn’t look at him. She just stared into the distance ahead of them with a somber expression.

“He started drinking, when he was drunk, he became violent – he got into a fight in a bar, and someone died. Brian went to jail. He got out after ten years, he went to therapy, stayed sober. But he was a felon now. People didn’t hire him for jobs, he couldn’t get a place to live.”

She interrupted herself and grew quiet. Bucky chewed on his lip, staring at his hands in his lap waiting for her to continue.

"Eventually he met Gina – our Gina from our board of directors. She already worked for the nonprofit that runs this place. She gave him a chance, hired him for a job just a few months before Thanos. I was blipped, he wasn’t. By the time I returned he was on the board of directors himself, taking care of people.”

Bucky still remained silent. He wasn’t quite sure why she told him this – any of it – or what she was trying to tell him with it. He was sure there was some point she was trying to make but he didn’t get it yet.

“What I am trying to say is...” Lisa continued, as if she had sensed his unspoken question. Bucky hesitantly glanced over at her and met the look from her kind eyes, “we don’t judge people by their past here. We look at who someone is now. You used to be someone else – so what? Today you are not this person anymore. What I know is that you are a skilled handyman, a hard worker. I know that you helped us when we needed help. That's all I need to know.”

Bucky took a deep breath and held it, trying to steady himself before releasing it slowly through clenched teeth.

He felt like he should say something, reply to what she had just told him, but he was at a loss for words.

He was almost grateful when he heard a door open behind him and the familiar footsteps of June coming closer.

“Enjoying the sunset?” she asked.

“Something like that”, Lisa replied. She scooted over a little to make room for June between herself and Bucky and patted the stone steps next to herself with her hand. June lowered herself on the stairs and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs.

Bucky looked over at her as she closed her eyes and let the last golden rays the sun sent over the hills in the distance warm her face. Neither of them interrupted the silence between them, the only things audible were the rustling of the wind in the large old trees and slowly fading songs of the birds.

When the sun had dropped behind the horizon and darkness started settling on the large estate June let out a sigh.

“I think,” she said while turning to Bucky, “we should head back home.”

After the three of them returned to the kitchen, where Bucky put his mug in the large sink and June said her goodbyes to everyone, Lisa walked them out to June's car.

The two women hugged, and June promised to be back the next weekend. Then Lisa turned to Bucky.

“When I put Frankie to bed earlier, he asked if you would be coming back next week”, she said. Bucky gave her a surprised look to which she replied with a nod.

“I didn’t promise him anything”, she then continued and added quietly: “but I hope you do.”

Chapter Text

Bucky was in the middle of folding his laundry when a loud and insistent knock on his apartment door interrupted him ad made him pause.

He had started to make laundry his routine for Tuesday afternoons, when the majority of the other tenants in the building were still at work. It gave him access to most of the machines at once and saved him several trips to the large laundry room in the basement. And since Dr. Raynor had told him many times now about the importance of having a routine he had decided that Tuesday was as good a day for this as any.

Not that he had that much laundry anyway, but this way he could wash his sheets, towels and clothing at the same time. After hauling everything back upstairs he normally folded and put away everything before the others even started theirs.

He had gotten his new mattress delivered yesterday, so on top of the usual laundry he also had to wash his new bedding but instead of folding the sheets he had thrown them straight on the bed. It was the only set he owned so far anyway.

not too long ago he had finally decided to try and start sleeping on an actual bed. So, he had ordered one of those rolled up mattresses that came vacuum sealed in a handy box that he had heard about on TV so many times and had hauled the gigantic box into his apartment when it arrived.

This option had sounded better than buying a mattress in a store and the thing was surprisingly comfortable once it had inflated after the package came off.

He still didn’t have a bedframe or nightstands but sleeping on a mattress on the ground was definitely one step up from sleeping on the floor. And to make things complete he figured he should buy some bedding, so that’s what he did, and now suddenly he had an actual bed.

He looked at the clock on his microwave when the visitor at his door insisted and knocked again. It was not even three yet. He didn’t get visitors usually, the only person that knocked on his doors was June, and it was still too early for her to be home from work. The mailman always rung the bell if there was anything that didn't fit in the mailbox and the other neighbors rarely bothered him.

He threw the last of the towels he was about to fold back in the hamper and swung the apartment door open.

On the other side Sam Wilson jumped when the door was ripped open, and he raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“Whoa, easy there, big guy!”

“Sam?!” Bucky exclaimed. This was the second time now that Sam had shown up unannounced. “What are you doing here?”

Sam pushed past Bucky into the apartment. Bucky rolled his eyes and let out a sigh before closing the front door.

“I’m here to check on you. You haven't been answering any of my texts in two weeks. I wasn’t sure if you were dead.” Sam tried to sound like he was teasing but the tone of his voice betrayed him and gave away that he had been genuinely worried about the other man.

“I was busy,” Bucky grumbled, trying to not let his guilty conscience show too much. He had several times promised himself he would text back or call tomorrow and then never done it. Now he felt bad about it.

“I can tell. I like what you have done to the place.” Sam commented after taking a look around Bucky’s living room.

For a few moments Bucky wasn’t sure if this was another of Sam’s jabs but nothing else followed the comment, no ribbing, no joke. He sounded actually honest too, there was no snark in his voice, no sarcasm.

Sam took a couple of seconds to take in the new look of the living room. The difference between how the place looked during his last visit and now was remarkable. A bookshelf with books on them, a desk, a coffee table, there even were a couple mismatched throw pillows and a folded-up blanket on the couch. It started to look like someone actually lived here.

“So! What brought about this development?” Sam gestured at the new furniture in Bucky’s apartment.

“That’s none of your business,” Bucky shot back. He didn’t appreciate being interrogated.

Sam plopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out and taking another long look around with a smirk.

“Speaking of things, you don’t want to share with me – when am I going to meet the famous June?”

“Preferably never,” Bucky grumbled angrily. If there was one thing, he was absolutely not keen on – more than not liking to be interrogated like this – then it was the idea of Sam embarrassing him in front of June.

“Ah, come on, man, you can’t hide your girl from me forever,” he teased.

“I am not hiding anything – and she is not my girl.” Bucky didn’t care if he sounded abrasive, but he really hated it, when Sam kept referring to June like that.

Sam chuckled.

Bucky grumbled quietly to himself. It wasn’t that he was hiding anything, but it didn’t feel right to mix these two separate lives of his. Yes, he had told Sam about June a while ago but something in him wanted to keep these two lives apart.

He endured being grilled by Sam for a while, who hounded him about how therapy was going and what had changed in his life since they last spoke a couple of weeks ago. But with every new question Bucky grew more impatient and disgruntled by the interrogation.

He was doing good! Great even! He hadn’t been avoiding Sam because he was sinking deeper and deeper into a depression. In fact, he probably had never felt better since he escaped Hydra and annoyed him to no end that Sam seemingly didn’t believe him.

Bucky was relieved for a brief moment when once again he got interrupted by someone knocking on his apartment door. But then he realized this could only mean one thing and his heart sank.

“What’s wrong?” Sam inquired when Bucky hesitated, but Bucky just waved him off and turned to open the door. When he swung the door open, he saw he had been right.

“June!”

Behind him Sam took notice of the name and pricked up his ears.

Meanwhile June gave Bucky a surprised look over the frustrated sound of his voice.

“Sorry, it’s only me! Were you expecting someone else?” She asked him with a frown. Bucky raised his hands defensively and shook his head apologetically.

“No, no, I was just – stressing about something. What’s up?”

“I just got home from work and don’t feel like cooking, so I was going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner?” She explained.

Bucky nodded in reply.

“Sure – just a little later I have something to take care of first.”

Behind them Sam leaned back on Bucky’s couch and quietly listened in on the interaction.

She sounded nice. He liked the sound of her warm voice and the way she talked. But there was an odd change in Bucky around her too. He seemed more at ease now that she was around and not acting like the grumpy old man he usually was.

He took her friendly ribbing with surprising patience and when he teased her back his voice lacked the usual edge and rancor that Sam knew so well. He sounded – friendly and kind. And that probably was the biggest surprise for Sam.

Overhearing some comment she made, Sam quietly smiled to himself. But he must have made a noise and she must have heard him because she interrupter herself mid-sentence and Sam suddenly heard her call out with indignation:

“Seriously, Bucky? You have a friend here and you weren’t even going to introduce me?”

Sam looked up, just in time to see her give Bucky a small punch against the shoulder. Bucky flinched and rubbed his upper arm, where she had hit him, which made Sam laugh again.

“That?” Bucky replied tilting his head towards Sam. “That’s just Sam.”

She gave him a dirty look and Sam used the moment to walk over to the door.

“Hi, Just Sam,” June extended her hand towards Sam, and he took it. “I’m June Lacey. Nice to meet you.”

“Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you too,” he replied. June’s eyes grew big when she recognized the name.

“Oh my god, you’re the new Captain America!” she exclaimed, shaking Sam’s hand harder. Sam laughed and - after peeling his hand out of June's - replied with a grin:

“I heard a lot about you too.”

“Should I be worried?” June joked with a coy smile that made Sam chuckle.

Beside them Bucky watched the exchange with growing discontent.

Today he suddenly envied Sam for his easy-going, open personality and the confidence with which he talked to people.

Unlike himself Sam never seemed to feel self-conscious around strangers, he was personable and made new friends easily. Most people took naturally to Sam. Normally Bucky wouldn’t have cared either way, he wasn’t a people person anymore, not in a long time.

But seeing the instant rapport between June and Sam - a familiarity that took him weeks if not months to establish with her - made a strange feeling well up in him and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

Sam had just made a comment about something – Bucky had to admit that he hadn’t paid attention – that made June laugh. Bucky’s eyes narrowed while he looked from one to the other, his mind desperately trying to find a way to interrupt whatever it was, he was witnessing here.

But before he even could come up with something June turned to him.

“How about we all go together,” she suggested, “It would be so cool to be able to say I had dinner with Captain America!”

Bucky groaned internally, trying not to let his displeasure show too much. This was exactly the scenario he had tried to avoid.

“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat myself,” Sam chimed in.

Bucky held back a groan. He had secretly hoped to be able to get rid of Sam fairly quickly, hoping he would have to catch a flight from Teterboro or LaGuardia back home. But no such luck. Sam seemed to be determined to stay a while.

“Ok, then it’s settled” June exclaimed excitedly, “Give me half an hour to change!”

With that she rushed out the door and down the hallway to her own apartment as Bucky turned back into the room with a disgruntled expression, resigning to his fate for tonight.

Dinner didn’t go much better for Bucky.

The Italian place June had picked was nice enough. The round tables had red and white gingham tablecloths on them, topped with little metal napkin holders in the middle. Italian music was playing from hidden speakers, a mural of a Tuscan landscape adorned one of the side walls. The atmosphere was cozy and calm, something Bucky usually liked.

June even had gotten dressed up a little in a long, flowy brown sundress and put on a little make-up for the occasion. A fact that he had noted with indignation.

The food was good too, as was the wine June ordered, a dark red, full bodied and heavy. Normally both would be something he would relish, but today Bucky couldn’t enjoy either.

Sam and June quickly connected over their shared humanitarian efforts and the both of them chatted away about social issues after the blip and the respective charities they supported.

June happily talked about the orphanage and the children there and even mentioned that Bucky had started helping out on the weekends.

Bucky could tell that Sam was extremely surprised to hear about this and looked a little miffed, that he hadn’t been told about that at all. Bucky caught the questioning glance from Sam silently asking him why this was all news to him, but Bucky ignored it and just kept on pushing his Linguini back and forth on his plate without eating a bite.

Bucky was amazed Sam even remembered that he was still here too. He and June got along so well they hadn’t even noticed that he had grown quieter and quieter the longer the evening went on because he felt like the literal third wheel. And that stung. More than he wanted to admit to himself.

So, he sat and watched them. Sam jovially telling a story – something about his times as the Falcon. Bucky didn’t pay attention to it, but is must have been funny because June laughed – and while she laughed, she leaned closer to Sam and casually touched his arm.

That was the moment when Bucky brusquely got up. Both June and Sam jumped at the sudden movement and looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty and put it next to his still almost full plate.

“What’s the matter?” Sam inquired confused.

“Not really hungry,” Bucky grumbled back, grabbed his jacket that he had put over the back if his chair and walked out without looking back.

It didn’t take long before his phone started buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. He figured it was either Sam or June or probably both, but he didn’t check or pick up. He didn’t want to talk to either of them right now.

He didn’t want any probing questions or having to explain himself. Right now, all he wanted was being alone with his thoughts and feelings.

He wandered the Streets of Brooklyn aimlessly for a while until his path took him to the park at the base of the Brooklyn bridge.

He leaned with his arms on the high banister of the river walk and stared out on the dark surface of the east river, the reflections of the lights from the other shore. Beneath him the waves lapped quietly gurgling against the rocks.

Like so often when he came here, he was looking for clarity, hoping the wind from the river and the distant rumbling of the city would help him sort his thoughts.

Tonight, however, it was no use. His thoughts kept returning to that picture of Sam and June talking and laughing together - and to this strange feeling that rose up in his chest every time.

So eventually he turned away from the river and the view of the bright city skyline and started walking, still ignoring the buzzing of his phone.

Hours later Bucky returned to his building, tired and feet hurting. He had walked the streets of Brooklyn until he realized he was starting to go in circles, when he came back upon the same places a second and third time this night.

He had passed the Soldiers and Sailors Arch at least three times that he could recall, and the cop parked in his patrol car on the green near one of the traffic lights had started looking at him suspiciously. That's when he had known that it was time to go home.

When Bucky arrived at the top of the stairs to his floor his look went down the hallway. What he saw made him stop dead in his track.

On the ground in front of his apartment sat no other than Sam. He was leaning with his back against Bucky‘s front door, his long legs stretched out in front of him almost reached the other wall. He held his phone in his hands without looking at it, head hanging as if he was nodding.

Bucky let out a sigh. For a moment he contemplated just turning around and going for another walk, because he still had absolutely no desire to see anyone right now. But there was no telling if Sam had already noticed him and would follow him, and no guarantee that Sam would not still be waiting here an hour from now.

Sam wasn’t the kind of person to just let something go over having to wait another hour.

Bucky reluctantly started moving again.

Sam looked up when he heard the footsteps and scrambled to get up. Bucky’s first instinct was to make a snide remark as he came closer, but then he saw the expression on Sam‘s face and he shrunk back internally. His jaw was clenched visibly, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed tightly together. Sam was furious.

But there was something else Bucky saw in Sam’s eyes, and it made him pause. Was it fear? Worry? That couldn’t be, could it?

“Good Lord, man, where have you been?” Sam hissed, trying to contain his anger, and keeping his voice down. He forcefully grabbed Bucky by the arm, but Bucky brusquely yanked it out of his grip.

“I needed some air,” he grumbled gruffly, turning away from Sam. He produced the key from his jeans pocket and unlocked his apartment door and in spite of him trying to close it quickly, Sam caught it before it closed and pushed into his apartment.

“Some air? Really? Did you get any?” Sam’s voice grew louder now that they were inside the apartment, barely restraining himself from flat out yelling.

He gave the door a push and it closed with a louder thud than Bucky liked. He didn’t need the neighbors to hear Sam making ruckus here. Angrily he spun around to face Sam, both hands balled into a tight fist. He could hear the blood rushing in his hears and feel his heartbeat in the veins on his neck.

He stepped forward and his chest almost touched that of Sam who didn’t flinch or recede an inch, even when Bucky aggressively almost bumped into him.

“Yeah! As a matter of fact, I did!” Bucky gave back acerbically, emphasizing his words with an angry nod.

Sam seemed to inch closer even, the two men facing each other so close that Bucky could feel Sam’s angry hot breath. He never had seen the other man this furious before.

“Great!” Sam yelled.

“Yes! Great!” Bucky yelled back and for a moment he wasn’t quite sure if this confrontation would end in a fistfight between them.

Sam was the one who let a couple of seconds of silence pass and who allowed himself to take a breath and take a step back, before he continued calmer now:

“And that’s the reason you just get up and storm out without an explanation and don’t answer your phone for hours, no matter how many times we call you? What the hell has gotten into you today?”

Bucky crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wasn’t going to explain himself. He didn't want to talk right now. At all.

“I told you; I just needed some air!” he insisted.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit right there!” Sam almost spat the words out, pointing his index finger towards Bucky in and heated gesture. He was not sure what to be more insulted by: the blatant lie or the fact that he was supposed to believe that crap. “We tried calling you for two hours, we weren’t sure if something happened to you! June and I were worried sick!”

Bucky scoffed.

“Oh really!” he gave back, his voice dripping with biting sarcasm, “you both barely remembered that I was even there all evening.”

His words caught the other man so off guard that all he got as a reply was a stunned huff from Sam, all anger seemingly vanished in a moment. Perplexed by this reaction Bucky took a step back himself. What was happening right now?

“You are jealous!” Sam uttered. An almost relieved expression came over him with the realization and after a second he chuckled quietly to himself.

“What?”

“Yes! You are jealous!” Sam repeated, this time more audible and more emphasis on the word jealous.

Immediately everything inside of Bucky went on the defense.

“I am NOT!” he exclaimed angrily turning away from Sam, declaring this discussion being over, only to spin back around with Sam’s next sentence:

“Well, you’re fucking acting like it!”

Bucky raised his index finger into Sam’s face, his anger flaring back up, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

“I just don’t need you breezing in here, making everyone like you and being the people person that I am not,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“It's fine, man, I got it! You can relax. I am not gonna take your girl.” Sam took a step back in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

“She isn’t my girl” Bucky replied quickly. A little too quickly probably, if the smirk that appeared on Sam's face almost instantly was any indication. Why would people just not stop trying to push him into dating?

“Alright, alright.” Sam yielded, raising his hands defensively.

Bucky nodded, clenching his jaw, while taking a long breath. He couldn’t tell if Sam believed it or just decided to let it go, but at least he stopped calling her that – for now.

“Seriously, Bucky,” Sam finally continued after a while, now all calm and collected. Sam clearly had given his words some thought before he spoke them.

Bucky let out a frustrated breath. He knew he had a stern talking to coming his way, but he also knew he deserved it.

“I don’t know how you did it, because you are an idiot and an asshole sometimes, but you found a real friend here.”

Bucky made a face in Sam’s direction, but the other man didn’t even acknowledge it.

“For some reason that is beyond me that girl there really cares about you. And you gotta get that in this cyborg brain of yours and stop acting like a damn fool before you manage to fuck it up.”

Bucky didn’t reply.

He knew Sam was right. He had been jealous and hurt, he had overreacted and behaved like the idiot that Sam claimed he was. He saw that now. His knee-jerk reaction to just storm out and retreat into himself, refusing to speak to anyone – he should know better than that.

“You got this?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded. But that wasn’t enough.

“Yes?” Sam double checked.

“Yes!” Bucky gave back slightly annoyed, rubbing his forehead with his gloved hand.

“Good. Now you go and talk to that girl next door and fix this shit. I gotta get back to my hotel at JFK, I am flying out first thing.”

With that Sam turned back to the door and Bucky made his way over there, just as Sam turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack.

“Thanks Sam – for setting me straight, I guess.” he said, hesitantly bumping Sam’s arm with his fist. The two men exchanged a quick embrace and Sam paused to give Bucky a slap on the shoulder in return for the fist-bump.

“My pleasure. Let me know when you need me to do that again. I’ll fly in on my new wings just for that.”

Bucky knocked on the door, leaning on it softly, listening for the sound of movement inside. It didn’t take long until he heard footsteps getting closer and the door was opened a crack.

She peeked through the gap and Bucky lowered his gaze sheepishly.

“June.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the empty hallway so loudly he might as well have yelled.

The door closed again and for a moment Bucky thought she was going to slam the door in his face, refusing to talk to him, until he heard the sound of the security chain being pulled back and the door slowly crept open again.

She opened the door only halfway, still holding on to it, blocking the path with her body as if she was not quite sure if she was willing to let him in or not.

He took in her appearance. She had changed back into relaxed clothes and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail. But what got to him was her eyes.

The make-up from earlier was gone – save a few smudges of smeared mascara around her eyes and her lids were red and puffy. It hit him this moment that she had been crying.

He opened his mouth to say something but everything he could think of seemed wrong. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, but he didn't know how. He wanted to make her understand, but he couldn't find words that would convey all the things that were going on inside him right now.

Finally - after a painfully long time in which both only stood there, quietly looking at each other - June took a step to the side swinging the door all the way open. He hesitated a beat before he stepped through and waited for her to close it behind him to look at her.

She had crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

“I am sorry,” Bucky quietly muttered.

June let out a scoff, a cold, bitter sound and when she spoke her voice was so icily distant it made Bucky shrink back inside:

“You better be!”

Bucky couldn’t even argue with that. She was absolutely right. But before he even had a chance to reply anything to that she already continued.

“What the hell were you even thinking just storming out like that and not answering the phone? Do you have any – ANY – idea at all how worried I was?” Her voice had grown from an angry whisper to almost yelling.

“I know,” Bucky murmured remorsefully, but his reply seemed to make her even angrier.

“You know?” she shouted, taking a step forward, almost getting into his face. “I seriously doubt that! Jesus Christ, Bucky, I thought you had some sort of mental breakdown and were hanging on to the side of the Brooklyn Bridge ready to jump or some shit! I was worried sick, for God’s sake!”

Bucky put his hand up in a calming gesture. He could see her lip trembling and a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. She angrily bit her lip in attempt to hold back further tears, and even Bucky understood that these weren’t tears of sadness, these were tears of anger.

He rubbed his forehead with his fingers trying to find the right thing, something, ANYTHING, to say to make thing better. Sam’s words from earlier came back to him.

“I am sorry. I am an idiot. I was having a crappy day and when I saw you and Sam...,” he interrupted himself and she immediately interjected:

“And then what? You thought I don’t care about you anymore? Well yes, then you ARE an idiot, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Have I still not proved that I care about you? Do you know me that little?”

Bucky cast his eyes down towards the floor. He had a hard time looking at her right now. It pained him to see her this upset but he knew this was his doing and that hurt him even more.

“I don’t know I got this thought in my head and then...” Bucky attempted to explain clumsily. June shook her head in frustration.

“Bucky - I thought I lost you. I was so scared I almost called the police!”

With an angry jerk of her hand, she wiped a single tear away that had escaped her in spite of all her efforts to hold them back and Bucky looked down, away from her face, his cheeks burning with shame.

“I am really sorry, June", he mumbled.

“Seriously, I could punch you right now,” she uttered, her voice sounding serious and somehow joking at the same time.

“Maybe you should,” he suggested, himself not kidding at all.

“Yes, maybe I really should” she replied - a little too quickly and too enthusiastically for Bucky’s comfort - and progressed to landing a fairly powerful punch against his upper arm that made Bucky flinch. “Sam is right, you are an idiot and an asshole sometimes.”

Bucky’s face dropped when she quoted Sam’s words from earlier at him. He knew they had been screaming at each other at some point, but he had thought at least the later parts of their conversation had stayed between the two of them only.

“You heard that?” he asked. June scoffed.

“Of course I heard it. Paper thin walls, remember?” she replied with fake exasperation. Bucky huffed perplexed. She had heard it all and still had let him explain himself and given him the dressing down. But he couldn’t even deny that he deserved it – all of it.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked carefully as he made his way to the front door. It was late and he should probably get out of her hair on a Tuesday night when she had to work the next day. June shrugged as she followed him to the door.

“Probably,” she replied, “but I think I will need to sleep on it to cool off.”

The familiar sounds of Dr. Raynor's office surrounded Bucky. Usually the noises didn’t bother him. He had gotten used to them over the many weeks he had been coming here and they had become a sort of background noise that he could easily push aside most days. But today was not most days.

Today they annoyed him. His brain registered every single one of them with painful tenacity, every honk and siren from the streets below, every voice on the other side of the walls. The fact that he was so completely unable to just ignore them only aggravated him more.

Across from him, Dr. Raynor eyed his tense shoulders, his clenched jaw, and hands that he had balled into fists in his lap, wondering what had him so wound up today.

It hadn’t escaped her attention that something was off with him today early on. She had started the session with her usual questions about his week and how he felt, like every Thursday, but his responses were tight lipped and evasive.

With a frown, she examined his standoffish expression for a few more moments before repositioning herself in her swivel chair.

“James – is something bothering you?” She waited for a response and when none came, she repeated:

“James?”

This time he looked at her with a blank look. He hadn’t paid attention to what she had said before.

“James, why don’t you tell me what happened,” She suggested gently, trying to carefully steer him towards whatever it was that seemed to bother him so much today.

“Nothing happened...”

“You have been coming here long enough that I can tell that that is not true.”

Bucky sighed.

On one hand he was glad she had noticed, and in a way forced his hand into saying what he had been planned on talking about. On the other hand, a part of him had still silently hoped that he would get out of actually going through with his resolution.

“There is – something – something I think I need help with,” he finally mumbled. He had his eyes cast down at the floor while his hands fidgeted in his lap.

Dr Raynor’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. Over the last few months James had made tremendous progress. Once he had been willing to work with her, she had been able to help him in ways that wouldn’t have been possible before.

But still most of the time he still wasn’t very forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings. Most days – even on good ones – she still had to coax and coerce things out of him. The fact that he now suddenly brought something up and openly asked her for help with it was a first and she recognized it as the big step it was.

“Go ahead,” she said after a moment of contemplation. Bucky chewed on his lip, still staring at the floor in front of his feet, silent for a long moment. He could feel the doctor’s eyes on him, patient and understanding.

It took him another couple moments to gather himself and Dr. Raynor gave him the time he needed, not pressuring him. She had learned a long time ago that any interference on her behalf right now could have the opposite effect and make him close back up again.

“Sam visited – the day before yesterday.”

Bucky took a deep breath and let it back out with a stifled sigh. Why did this have to be so hard? He quickly glanced up at Dr Raynor who just sat in her swivel chair patiently nodding.

So, he hurriedly told her about Tuesday night and what had gone down that evening, rushing through the sentences to get it over with faster. When he was done, he looked back up.

He was expecting judgement, but not seeing any in her calm figure. She was holding a pen up to her mouth, so the back lightly touched her lips and examined him calmly.

“I see…” She murmured finally.

There was no telling from the tone of her voice what she was thinking. Neither did her facial expression give away anything. She didn’t continue to speak right away either and for some reason Bucky found her silence strangely unsettling.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you that running out and ignoring your friends’ calls is probably the absolute WORST way of dealing with this,” she finally said.

Bucky nodded his head, a sarcastic grin on his face.

“Thanks, doc. That's really great advice,” he shot back not able to keep the snark out of his voice. She tilted her head and flashed him an admonishing look. Bucky raised his hands in a remorseful gesture.

“Sorry,” he quietly mouthed, casting his eyes down.

After a while, when Bucky didn’t add anything, she cleared her throat, carefully contemplating her next words. Since he didn’t share any more details, this was what she had to work with for now.

“I can tell that June has become a very important person in your life,” she finally started. Bucky nodded empathically without redirecting his gaze.

It was true. June had become very important to him.

Not only because many of the good things that had happened in his life over the last few months were attributed to her. She was the one who had coaxed him into going places with her, without her he never would have heard about the orphanage or ended up helping there.

But the main reason was that he liked being around her. He enjoyed her company, their talks, his day was always better when he got to spend time with her.

Dr. Raynor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts when she continued.

“So, when we care about someone deeply, a situation like you described can make us feel jealous. The issue here is not that June and Sam got along well. The issue is that in your head you felt like you were being replaced. It made you feel like you didn’t matter to them as much as they matter to you ...” She interrupted herself and used the short break to adjust her posture.

“I think deep down inside you still believe that you are not worthy of being loved and not important to the people in your life you care about. And that brings us back to the issue of trusting people,” the therapist concluded with a thoughtful nod of the head.

Bucky flinched at her words and groaned inwardly. This was probably one of the most brutally honest assessment of his inner life the doctor had ever given him. He couldn’t have put any of this into words himself if his life had depended on it, but her on point analysis made it feel a little like someone put a finger into an open wound.

She was not wrong – about any of it. It was true, it still was hard for him to trust; it still took him conscious effort to recognize that people were trustworthy, he was still scribbling into his notebook that she had assigned him, every day.

“Both Sam and June are the two closest friends you have, James. Both of them showed time and again that you can count on them, haven't they?”

Bucky nodded reluctantly.

He tried. He really, really tried, every day – to see that people could be trusted, to make himself trust them. Some days he felt like he was getting somewhere - finally. And then when push came to shove...

Bucky breathed a deep breath, almost a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

Sensing his frustration, she paused for a moment. She looked down, giving him a moment to deal with his emotions When she looked back up after a few seconds her face had softened and when she spoke this time her voice sounded gentler.

“You are making progress, James. You might not see it yourself, but I do.”

He gave her a skeptical glance, not convinced by her words, which she replied to with an encouraging nod.

“Overcoming your demons is not easy, James. Healing takes a lot of effort and a lot of patience – which isn’t exactly your strength, I know that.”

Bucky made a face and nodded. She smiled in a rather reserved manner and then gave him a questioning look.

“So, shall we continue with this?”

Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, let’s continue.”

Chapter Text

Bucky knocked on the door in front of him three times. This seemed to him the appropriate number of knocks on a front door. It wasn’t too much so it wouldn’t seem urgent or over-eager but not too little to be easily overheard. That was unless the person one was seeking to visit was his neighbor June.

He knew she was home because he could hear her music blasting inside and her footsteps running back and forth between the rooms, but she didn’t seem to notice that somebody was knocking at her door.

Today was Saturday, the day when June usually went to see the children at Riverside Manor. Normally Bucky would have just assumed that she would take him with her. Phil’s leg was still in a cast and Bucky had been volunteering to take care of whatever he could help with for four weeks now. The drive up to the Manor every Saturday had not only become a routine for him but also something he looked forward to.

But since their fight earlier this week he hadn’t seen her. They had neither run into each other in the hallway nor had Bucky dared to just walk to her apartment down the hall to talk to her.

He had wanted to give her some time and space to ‘cool down’ as she had put it the other night.

But the orphanage and the people there had become dear to him too. He had started looking forward to the visits, it had become something he didn’t want to give up. So this morning he had gotten up early, taken care of some errands and was back here now.

She usually left at nine, it was her regular routine that he knew quite well by now. The drive to the Manor took about an hour, that always left them both enough time to take care of the things that needed to be done. So in order to catch her in time he had arrived a little earlier than nine to make sure he got here before she was gone.

When after a good minute nobody had reacted, he knocked again, louder this time and a moment later he could hear the music being turned down and steps coming towards the door. When the door swung open, and she saw him she could barely hide her surprise.

“Bucky!”

“I come in peace – and I bring offerings.”

He held up the cup carrier with the two white, lidded paper cups in them, to show her and she gave him a bewildered look.

“What’s that about?” She asked. Bucky took a deep breath.

“My name is James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and this is part of my efforts to make amends”, he said and concluded with a clumsy smile.

For a moment June stared at him, blinking, clearly befuddled. He had told her about this part of his journey – the one before they had met – a long time ago. She knew of his list and his ill-conceived idea of making amends. Of course, she knew the sentence although she probably would never have expected to hear it directed at her.

When the first moment of surprise had passed, she laughed softly, and Bucky joined her with a quiet chuckle.

“Very funny, Bucky. Come in.”

June stepped aside, her hand making an inviting gesture, indicating that he was indeed still welcome in her home.

Bucky proceeded inside and looked around her living room while she closed the door behind him. The duffel bag that seemed to always come with her on those Saturday mornings sat on top of her dining table, packed and ready to go, next to it her medic bag, purse and phone.

He felt strange suddenly, almost like an intruder. To busy himself he handed her the coffee he had gotten for her and then took his own from the carrier, nervously twisting the paper cup in his hands.

"Turns out this place actually does do regular coffee after all”, he explained, holding his cup up like a trophy for proof, just to say something, to drive away the silence. “You just – have to ask for the right thing.”

“You hacked the system, good for you!” June gave back jokingly. Bucky took a sip from his cup, swallowing the hot, strong coffee slowly, while June went back to packing things from a cardboard box into her medic bag.

He watched her for a while, while she was stacking bandages and bad aids, ointments and medications into her medic bag, checking off lines on a list as she went. She worked quickly and methodically like she had done this many times before.

He smiled at her knitted brows and her quietly mumbling to herself, something he had never witnessed before

All the while there was one thing that really bothered him, one question that he burned to ask, yet he hesitated. He hesitated because he was afraid of the answer he might get once he asked.

He hadn’t realized he had been zoning out again until he heard June call out his name.

“Bucky! - - You are doing the staring thing. Are you ok?”

Bucky took a deep breath that made her pause, and she stopped what she was doing. She frowned, a concerned look in her eyes, as she put her list on the table and

“I... there is...”, he interrupted himself, stumbling over the words, struggling to find the right ones. Why was this so hard?

He lifted his hand in a helpless motion before taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts and finally asking:

“I have to ask… Are... are we okay?”

June raised her eyebrows in surprise and paused what felt to him like an eternity. She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms in front of her chest, just like she had a few nights ago, a gesture, that still felt like she was trying to distance herself from him.

“I am not going to sugar coat this, Bucky – you hurt me”, she finally said. Bucky cast his eyes down, the feeling of guilt welling up in him again. His chest tightened with fear – fear of having messed things up beyond repair, of losing the only person he had really connected with since Steve.

He placed his cup on the kitchen counter near him when he realized his hand was shaking.

“But I also know how trauma messes with your mind. It makes you feel and do strange things, I get that.” She continued, gentler this time, more understanding.

Bucky looked up, carefully evaluating her tone of voice, the expression on her face. Her features had softened, and she uncrossed her arms, letting them slump by her side almost helplessly.

Bucky could feel a wave of relief wash over him when she finally gave him a small smile.

“Yes, we are okay, Bucky. But don’t you ever do something like that to me again. I don’t think I can go through that again.”

Chapter Text

The warm breeze rustling the leaves in the old oak trees surrounding the mansion left no doubt that summer was here when Bucky exited June’s car. He squinted against the bright sunlight as he let his eyes wander over the now familiar front of the old building. Summer out here felt so different than in the city. He had forgotten how miserable New York could be in summer.

The sun beating down on the pavement, the heat reflecting from the boiling hot surface that left anyone pouring sweat within minutes; the dust and dirt and the grime that only a strong thunderstorm would wash away for a little while before it returned; the humidity and most of all the smells.

He had forgotten about the stink of the garbage piles that were waiting for trash pickup day by the road, rotting in the heat. He had forgotten the stench of urine from the small alleys mixed with the exhaust fumes of the cars and trucks, the sewage system reeking of excrement and a cacophony of soaps and shampoos, and the stale, dusty, metallic scent of the subway tunnels.

He took a deep breath and released it with a quiet sigh. The clean air out here seemed a little easier to breathe. He took a moment to stand in the sunshine, letting it warm his face and the wind tug on his hair.

Only when he heard June push the door on her side of the car closed, he gently shook his head, smiling to himself as he returned his focus to the here and now. He pulled the black gym bag from the back seat and sat it down on the gravel ground next to him, while he waited for June to retrieve her medic bag. She hoisted the strap of the backpack over her shoulder and – after slamming the doors of her vehicle shut – locked the doors.

“Oh, you guys are early today!” a voice called out to them. When Bucky turned his head, he saw June’s friend Lisa emerging from the mansion, shielding her eyes from the light with one hand as she stepped into the sunshine.

“Traffic was kind to us,” June replied and walked over to Lisa to greet her with a hug

“Bucky!”

An excited shriek made Bucky turn his head just a moment before a small body launched himself at him.

Bucky caught the young boy mid jump, lifted him over his head for a moment, his vibranium arm doing most of the lifting, before he put him carefully back down on the ground.

“Hi Frankie!” He greeted him and accepted the high five from the tiny hand. Then his eyes fell on the little boy's strange appearance, and he frowned. Frankie had smeared dark color around his eyes and his left arm was carefully wrapped in several layers of tinfoil that made a crinkling noise with every movement.

“Look, Bucky! I am you!” Frankie proudly proclaimed, lifting his tin foil covered arm up in front of Bucky’s face for him to examine. The tinfoil was crumpled in places and torn in others, but Bucky could still make out the shapes mimicking the metal plates of his own arm, drawn on the tinfoil with sharpie pen.

“I can see that! That is really cool!” Bucky assured the boy, not sure if that was what Frankie wanted to hear.

“We played superheroes and Brayden wanted to be Steve Rogers, and Jackson wanted to be Sam Wilson, but they can't both be Captain America and now they are fighting, and I can't be you anymore,” Frankie continued pointing vaguely in the direction he had come from. Bucky followed the direction with his eyes, but he couldn’t see anyone else. Then he nodded and looked at the little boy in front of him.

“You go tell them that Captain America is a title not a person. Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson are both Captain America in their own way. So, they both can be too, ok?”

The little boy’s face lit up and he nodded excitedly. He made a little happy jump and turned to run back to his friends when June’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Wait, wait, wait! Not so fast!”

Frankie turned back around to face her and gave her a questioning look.

“I think I read this morning someone named Frankie is due for his shots!” she explained.

Immediately Frankie's face dropped, all the excitement about the solution to his problem disappeared in the blink of an eye. His eyes darted back and forth between her, and Bucky almost panicked. For a moment he was certain the boy would give chase and try and run away, but he didn’t, he just stood there, petrified, looking from one to the other.

Eventually his eyes remained fixed on Bucky.

“Do I really have to?” he asked pleadingly, as if Bucky could say the words to make him get out of the unpleasant experience.

Bucky exchanged a quick look with June and then turned back to the boy in front of him. He nodded.

“I am afraid so, Frankie.” Frankie let out a sigh.

“Did you ever have to get shots?” the boy inquired. Bucky flinched at the question, and the memories that flashed up in his mind.

He remembered vaccinations as a child, and while they had been bothersome, they weren’t the issue. Neither were the smallpox and typhoid shots he and all the other soldiers had to get before shipping out.

“Yes, Frankie,” he replied thoughtfully, “I had to get many injections.”

The little boy tilted his head to the side and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Did they hurt?”

The injections that hurt were given to him in a prisoner camp in a medieval keep in the Austrian alps. He had been held in a cage with other prisoners for weeks, underfed, always cold. Every couple of days guards would come, grab one of them and drag him out of the dungeon they were kept in. None of them ever returned.

Bucky remembered the day they had come to take him, how – like the others – he had fought them and lost.

Dragged into some laboratory strapped down on a table he remembered only thinking that his mother would never know what had happened to him – and that was probably the worst of it. If he had died in battle, at least she would have had the comfort of knowing.

“Not a lot," he lied.

The needles themselves were not what had hurt. It had been whatever it was they injected him with. Strangely colored liquids that made his body feel like it was on fire, had made him nauseous and delirious. He remembered vaguely struggling to free himself of the restraints, but to no avail

“Were you – scared?”

“Yes, Frankie," he mumbled, clearing his throat a moment after, trying to push the memory of Arnim Zola’s doughy, sweaty face hovering over him with a smarmy grin. “I was scared, too.”

“But you are a superhero! You are brave!”

Bucky smiled weakly. If only things were as easy in the real world as they were in this little boy’s imagination.

With more fragments of his memory returning, he also remembered more of his childhood. He could recall how simple the world seemed when he was young. Light and dark, good versus evil, axis versus allies, America against Nazis.

It all seemed so clear when he shipped out with his unit. Them versus us, the good American boys against the evil Germans. And most of the guys on the ship thought and talked just the same. That was what they were told, that was what they believed – young, impressionable minds on their way into battle.

The knowledge and insight that the world rarely ever was that simple, that life was never just black or white but a million shades of grey, came later. Much later.

He knelt down and put his hand on the small, skinny shoulder of the boy in front of him.

“Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means doing something even when you are scared. And I need you to be brave right now, okay?”

Frankie made a face, then his shoulders slumped over in defeat.

“Alright,” he mumbled. Bucky held his fist out and Frankie replied with a fist bump before slowly trotting over to June.

“I brought lollypops for everyone who gets a shot today,” she said in an encouraging voice and Frankie's face brightened up a bit at the prospect.

Bucky watched Frankie follow June into the mansion until they disappeared in the black void of the large front door. But even after they were gone from his sight he didn’t move. Lost in his own thoughts he stared at the door for a few moments.

Lisa walked up to him, a warm smile on her kind face as always. She reached out to him and touched his back in a motherly gesture.

The first time she had done that, it had startled him, made him jolt in surprise. He was still getting used to being touched by people. Sometimes he still caught himself shrinking back from it in a reflex that was so deeply ingrained in his brain, that he seemed unable to turn it off.

But he didn’t really mind anymore when she did, he had come to appreciate her motherly, nurturing personality, and gave her a quick smile in return.

“That kid absolutely adores you," Lisa said.

“They are just playing Captain America," he replied dismissively which made Lisa chuckle gently. He turned his head enough to see her gently shake her head like one would at a child that doesn’t understand something that was being explained to them.

“Oh, my dear boy, no!” she mumbled with a quiet laugh, “He wants to be you! Earlier this week we caught him in Phil’s workshop trying to spray paint his arm silver.”

“He did?” Somehow that mental image made him smile. Lisa nodded.

“Yes! I told you he wants to be you! Thankfully, Phil could convince him to use the tinfoil instead.” She chuckled and shook her head.

“Speaking of Phil – where is he at?” Bucky asked, looking around, glad he could inconspicuously steer the conversation in a different direction.

He had been expecting the older man to be sitting on the ride-on lawnmower, cutting the large grass area in front of the building in long, even lanes. But he was nowhere to be seen, neither could Bucky hear the sputtering of the old engine anywhere else on the expansive property.

Lisa let out a deep, forceful breath. Her shoulders slumped a little and her expression changed instantly. The smile faded from her face, and she gave him a long, sad look.

“He is in his workshop – but – I wouldn’t bother him right now. He got some pretty bad news yesterday," she explained with a cheerless expression.

“What happened?”

“They did another set of x-rays on his leg. The bone isn’t healing properly, and he needs surgery. They are going to put screws and plates in to fix it, but it is going to take months to heal – if at all.” Lisa’s voice had changed, her tone turned serious. It was obvious that this new development worried her. “He might never walk normal again.”

Usually, she was - of all the people working here – the one who kept a positive outlook on things, who tried to see the bright side of everything and stayed optimistic even when things got rough. The fact that she didn’t right now wasn’t boding too well.

Bucky felt the twinge of worry for the older man. Neither of them probably would acknowledge it out loud, but they had become friends over the past weeks. They were not unlike each other in many ways and Bucky found it easier to get along with Phil than with a lot of other people.

“You mind if I go check on him?” He asked and Lisa shook her head no.

“Go ahead, you know the way. But don’t be surprised when he kicks you out.”

They parted ways with a silent nod, and Bucky followed the now familiar path along the side of the mansion to the back of the side-wing that housed the garages and workshop. Some of the flowers on the jasmine shrub had wilted and fallen, covering the path with a carpet of petals. But new blossoms were already forming on the twigs saturating the air with their heavy scent.

He could hear Phil rummaging about the workshop before he could see him but even his grumbling and clanking with tools sounded different today.

The gruff appearance Phil took on was mostly a front, Bucky had learned that a while ago. Behind the grumpy exterior hid a kind and generous man who cared deeply about the children that this place had been entrusted with. But today the muttering under his breath and the banging of the tools sounded actually angry.

Bucky turned the corner, consciously making noise while walking. Lately he had been trying to unlearn the stealthy, noiseless way of moving that he was so used to.

It had been one of his most valuable skills as the Winter Soldier, it was, what made him so deadly. It also had kept him alive when he was on the run, the ability to blend into the shadows, to disappear in a crowd, to get away from somewhere quietly.

The Wakandans hadn’t seemed too disturbed by it. Some of the people he interacted with in Wakanda during his recovery – Ayo, Shuri, T’Challa – even outskilled him in that regard. Sam, Steve, Barton, they all were used to this. It was part of their world, their lives just as much as his. To them it was just something they did.

Only now that he was back in the normal world, Bucky had started to realize how unsettling this skill was for regular people like June or Lisa. Even Phil, who had been in the military himself and had gone through training was still startled by his ability to move stealthily.

Bucky made the gravel of the path crunch under his feet on purpose, to announce his presence and he saw Phil pause for a moment.

“If you are here to talk to me and cheer me up, you might as well leave,” the older man grumbled without even taking the trouble to look and see who he was talking to.

“Hm – I am not much for talking.”

Bucky’s reply finally made Phil look up.

“Ah - it’s you,” the older man muttered and immediately turned his back to Bucky again, continuing to take apart a section of the lawnmower’s engine in front of him. The downtrodden tone of his voice made Bucky frown.

"Well - Since you're already here you can make yourself useful and hand me the screwdriver”, he added.

“Sure.”

Bucky cracked a little smile while he reached for the requested tool and gave Phil a quick pat on the shoulder before passing it along to him.

For the next few hours, they worked together, the only words exchanged between them relating to the lawnmower engine. Both men acted like neither of them knew about the diagnosis - Bucky offering his company without speaking and Phil accepting it just as quietly - both of them pretending the lawnmower was the only reason they were there.

The sun stood already lower in the sky when Bucky left the garage and rounded the corner of the building towards the large courtyard in front of the mansion.

Phil’s lawnmower was sputtering on the grass a little further down the hill, now that the two of them had gotten it to work again, and from the other direction the voices of children playing drifted over to him.

He crossed the gravel area the little rocks crunching underneath his shoes, the warmth of the sun penetrating the long sleeves of his shirt. When he turned around the other end of the building to the large terrace overlooking the river valley, the voices became louder.

He found a spot to sit down on the steps leading down to the lawn on this side of the house that had become the most popular play area for most of the children and watched them. Some of the older boys were playing touch football.

Sometimes, when the boys played ball, they asked for Bucky to throw as far as he could, and although he had humored them several times, launching the football all the way to the other end, he had never thrown as hard as he probably could – particularly not with his vibranium arm. He usually held back to make sure they didn’t cross the boundaries of the property.

He admittedly enjoyed playing with the children every now and then, and they seemed to like it too. They had mostly warmed up to him, showing neither fear nor apprehension towards him. Besides that, the other adults rarely had time to just goof around with them, so he guessed they were happy for anyone taking some time to throw the ball with them.

But today they seemed too caught up in their game to interrupt, so after a while he decided to check on Frankie.

In an area that used to be part of the flower garden, a couple of girls had set up what looked to be a makeshift shop. They had found water somewhere and created a huge mud puddle in an old flowerbed and three of them were busy making mud pizzas.

Their arms and legs were covered in muck, and he could only imagine the reaction of the caregivers later on, when they laid eyes on the girls, caked in dirt. One of the girls looked up from the mud pizza she had been decorating with leaves and flower petals and waved.

“Hello Bucky”, she called out to him, and the other girls looked up from their activities too. A choir of little girl voices greeted him “Hello!” - “Hi Bucky!” Then one of the girls piped up:

“Would you like to buy some pizza from our pizza shop?” She made an inviting gesture at the setup they had created. Bucky stopped and smiled at them but then shook his head.

“Maybe later. I am looking for someone.”

He found Frankie and his two buddies finally in a part of the expansive gardens where they had set up their play area.

A fallen tree trunk had become their adventure playground, Frankie carried a stick that he used as his pretend weapon, and the other two boys had a makeshift shield that they passed back and forth between each other.

Bucky watched them from a distance for a while, climbing on the tree, fighting a pretend enemy together. Frankie slipped and fell off the trunk. He didn’t get injured, but he couldn’t manage to get back up on the tree. The kid he assumed was “Steve” jumped off himself to help Frankie back up and suddenly a memory flashed through his mind, clear as day.

The tenement buildings of Brooklyn in the 1930s, the courtyards between the red brick facades, the clotheslines in front of the windows. An empty lot down the block, where the remnants of a torn down house remained.

Steve and himself playing in the run-down courtyards of their neighborhood, building forts from the rubble of torn down places and construction sites, climbing on piles of bricks and discarded wood. Many times, he had to help Steve scale the piles and lift things his scrawny, sickly body couldn’t conquer by himself.

They had sworn to each other back then to always be there for each other, to always help each other when one of them needed the other. They had taken a blood oath on top of one of those piles of brick, cutting a finger with the blade of Bucky’s pocket-knife to seal the vow.

The feeling hit him like a punch in the gut and for a moment he had to steady himself against the stone of the garden wall because he felt almost faint. The longing ache that came with the memory of a time long gone, the pain of loss.

Most of the time he managed not to think about it too much. Steve was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. But it was moments like this, when a memory hit him right out of the blue, when his guard was down, that he felt it. The grief, the desertion.

He startled, when he felt a hand touch his shoulder and spun around, almost ready to attack, when he heard Lisa’s voice.

“I’ve been wondering where you had gone.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. People needed to stop sneaking up on him - or he needed to stop getting lost in thoughts like this. When did that become a thing anyway, that his thoughts just started drifting off? This wasn’t like him. When had he started letting his guard down like this?

“I know that expression.”

Lisa’s voice revealed her concern when she spoke, after giving him a long look. Bucky tried to smile but from her reaction he concluded that he had failed miserably in his attempt to put her at ease with it.

She nodded sympathetically and made a brief gesture towards the mansion.

“Come on,” she said gently but in that mom-voice that all mothers seemed to possess, that didn’t allow any objection, “let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

2 years ago

Utter Chaos – that was the only word to aptly describe the aftermath of the battle at the Avengers Compound and the Blip.

When Thanos and his army disappeared into literal dust, blown away by the four winds, they all just stood there for a while, stunned, overwhelmed, relieved.

It was over. They had won. This time they had really won.

Bucky looked around at the mayhem left behind by the fight, the bloody, dirty faces of the people surrounding him and suddenly exhaustion overtook him. He sank down on the first piece of rubble that looked halfway stable and slumped over, not sure if he had ever felt this tired before.

He had gone from the battle in Wakanda straight to here, no rest in between like the others and his mind was still trying to process the fact that five years had gone by for the others when for him it had only been moments.

When the smoke finally settled over the battlefield, they gathered right there, in the crater that once had been a peaceful landscape in upstate New York.

They took inventory of their casualties, of the people they had lost in battle – but also of the many, many souls that had returned. Friends, families, lovers were reunited in the rubble – mourning the losses and celebrating their victory at the same time.

Steve found him in the chaos – many months later Bucky still wasn’t quite sure how – and pulled him into a bear hug, sobbing into his best friend’s shoulder.

It was only later that day that Bucky found out about the death of Tony Stark - and while he himself never had the opportunity to put their differences behind them he was glad that Steve had gotten the chance to reconcile with him before his passing.

The days that followed, ironically enough - probably some of the best and happiest in Bucky’s life.

He stayed with Steve in his apartment in Washington DC while Bucky’s lawyer worked on getting him pardoned. The only reason he didn’t end up in a high security holding cell was that Steve vouched for him and assured them that he would take full responsibility for any issues he would cause.

There were court appearances and psychological evaluations he had to submit to, and Steve dutifully accompanied him to each and every one of them, both as emotional support and as a sign to the powers involved that Captain America stood by and trusted him.

Steve went with him to tackle the bureaucracy of getting his Social Security number back and to deal with the VA for his benefits.

In the days between they caught up on missed years and in the disorder that ensued after the sudden return of billions of people the place felt like an oasis.

It was good having his friend back in his life – to Bucky it almost felt like in the old days. Almost. The innocence of their younger years was gone now, they both had seen – and done – too much in the decades since then.

It was a few days after the congressional pardon came through that Steve finally told Bucky about his plan to stay in the past, once he returned the stones to their rightful place in history.

Bucky hated the idea. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

Steve was his only friend in this time he had left, he was the only person left alive who remembered the times before the war - who remembered the old him, the person he once had been.

He also was the only person he trusted and who trusted him. He was the only person who understood what it was like to find himself in a different time, a completely changed world.

He still needed his help. He still needed his friendship. He wasn’t ready to lose that yet again.

But a part of him felt guilty and selfish for feeling this way. Steve deserved a chance at life, at happiness and he didn’t want to be the one denying him that.

Present day

The little office of the kitchen manager where Lisa had her desk and computer was a lot cozier than Bucky could have ever imagined. Instead of stained steel surfaces and shelves full of canned goods, condiments and paper napkins like the pantry it was located next to, this little room was filled with soft browns and wooden furniture and conveyed warmth and contentment.

A small desk for an older-looking laptop on one side took up most of the space along the wall. Opposite that, two cozy armchairs and a small round table in between were pushed against the wall below a large, framed painting. A wooden shelf held a few framed pictures, some cookbooks and a collection of mismatched coffee mugs and an old-fashioned sideboard was home to an electric kettle and an assortment of teas.

Lisa motioned towards the two armchairs and told him to take a seat, while she went to refill the water-kettle and put it on. She brewed two mugs full of tea and put them on the small table before sitting down in the chair across from Bucky.

“Thanks.”

“I figured you might need a couple of minutes. You looked a little like you had seen a ghost or something out there.” Lisa took her cup with both hands and looked at him over the brim while she took a slow sip.

“Hm.” Bucky just made a noise in return. She wasn’t wrong; it had really felt a little like seeing a ghost, watching those two children play.

“Frankie and the other boys just reminded me of Steve and myself…”

His voice cracked with the last words. He swallowed hard, focusing his gaze on a spot behind Lisa, trying not to blink until the burning in his eyes passed.

“You miss Steve a lot, don’t you?”

Lisa’s voice was gentle, and Bucky nodded quietly in response. Most days he didn’t allow himself to think about it. There was no use in dwelling on it, the thoughts always only dragged him down. But even if he tried to avoid thinking about it most days the feeling still was there all the time, just lingering below the surface, ready to come at him at the slightest weakness in his resolve.

“Steve was kind of your rock, wasn’t he?”

Again, Bucky only replied with a nod to Lisa’s question, but when he slowly looked up and his eyes met hers, he could see that she understood.

“I know what that’s like.” Lisa took a sip of her tea and looked over to her desk. Bucky followed the direction with his eyes and only now he noticed a framed picture on her desk, a photograph of a younger Lisa and a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Lisa had her arm around the other woman’s shoulder and both of them were smiling happily.

“That’s Pat. She was the love of my life,” Lisa explained, and her voice suddenly sounded melancholic. Bucky frowned and she noticed it immediately.

“Yes, I have a son. I was with a man before I met Patricia. But she really was the love of my life. We had twenty great years together.”

“What happened?” Bucky asked. He sensed that there was a lesson somewhere in that story, just from the way Lisa told it.

“She died in an accident.” Lisa paused, staring into her cup for a couple moments before looking up towards Bucky again with a sad smile.

“She was there for me when everything went to hell in a hand-basket with my son. She was the only thing that kept me sane throughout that whole nightmare and then - suddenly she was gone.”

Bucky took a deep long breath. In a way he had felt similar after Steve had left. Steve had kept him sane throughout the whole ordeal after returning home, had been there for him and then, one day, suddenly he wasn’t.

Suddenly Bucky was alone to deal with everything, had to find his way in a world that was still so strange and new to him and that feeling of being abandoned still stung.

“I don’t know but...” he interrupted himself, taking a sip from his still scorching hot tea to buy a few moments before he continued “I just... I thought Steve would be there to help me figure things out.”

“I can’t imagine how confusing it was to suddenly find yourself in our time,” Lisa replied solemnly. Bucky nodded. She probably had no idea just how lost he had felt at first.

His thoughts drifted back to those first months in Romania of trying to remember who he was and navigating this world that was so strange and different from all the memories that had started to come back. In a way it felt very similar the first weeks after Steve was gone.

“I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“You know it’s okay to move on though. You are not going to betray his memory if you find a new rock.”

Lisa’s words hit him with unexpected force, and he found himself inhaling sharply. His eyes met hers and just from the way she softly smiled he could tell she knew something he hadn’t even realized until now: the thought of moving on had felt like betrayal to him. If Steve was able to let go so easily then at least he had to hold on, stick it out ‘til the literal end of the line.

“I felt the same way when I laughed the first time after Pat died. It felt like if I kept living it diminished what she meant to me but that isn’t true. The people we loved will always be a part of us. But part of grieving is moving on. If Steve was here in the room, he would not tell you to mourn him and hold on to the past. He would tell you to live. And even if you think you got nobody left without him – that's not true. You have people here now – you have us now.”

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat, the burning in his eyes returning and he reached for his cup again. The hot tea helped a little, but no amount of swallowing made that annoying lump go away. He turned his face away from Lisa, trying to hide the trembling of his lips, but at the same time he knew it was in vain, that she knew, even if she didn’t say anything.

He was almost grateful when some clattering noise and voices from the nearby kitchen interrupted the silence and made Lisa look up at the small round clock on the wall above her desk.

“I’ve got go. It’s time to get dinner started for the kids,” she said with an apologetic tone, and slowly got up from her chair. Bucky attempted to do the same, still fighting back the tears, but she put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

“No rush. You can stay here as long as you need.”

Bucky nodded. He wanted to answer something, tell her how grateful he was but he didn’t dare, worried his voice would betray the still growing lump in his throat.

But it didn't seem like Lisa expected a reply. She opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a box of Kleenex that she put on her desk without words. Then she left the room and closed the door behind herself, leaving him behind with the sudden wave of emotions that washed over him.

Bucky leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

You have us now.

How ironically fitting it was, that he had found a community that took him in with people who took care of orphans, he thought as the first tear escaped him. In a way he was orphaned himself. Maybe that’s why he felt so accepted here from the moment he walked in. This was what the people here did, they took in the lost and forsaken ones and gave them somewhere to belong.

A sob escaped his throat, in spite of all his attempts to hold it back, and after that there was no stopping the flow of tears anymore.

It was the first time he cried since Wakanda. But back then his tears had been those of relief. This was different. The tears that now broke their way were tears of anger. Anger at the things that he had lost, that were taken from him, tears of rage about the people who took them from him

But after a while, when his tears finally dried up, he realized how much better he felt. Like a weight that had been lifted from his chest and for the first time in a very long time he could breathe.

He fished for the box of Kleenex on Lisa’s table and dried his face and blew his nose until he could eventually stop sniffling. Then he finished the rest of his now lukewarm tea, as he felt suddenly thirsty. He leaned back in the soft armchair waiting for his breath to calm down and hopefully his eyes to stop being puffy and red.

After a while he heard the noises from the kitchen coming through the closed door, voices and laughter, and when his nostrils cleared, he noticed the smell of the food permeating into the room as well. He found himself smiling at the sensation of warmth this filled him with and after another minute or two he stood up and opened the door, grabbing the two used teacups on the way to the kitchen to join the others.

Chapter Text

The shelves of the thrift store seemed less sorted through lately, better stocked and with better quality items at that. Bucky had noticed a definite change taking place over the last few weeks in that regard. Maybe production had finally started to catch up with the demand or maybe most people had acquired what they needed by now.

Bucky himself enjoyed the better selection of books in particular, as he strolled through the thrift store on his way home from his weekly appointment with Dr. Raynor.

He had planned for a while now to look for a few books for the children at the orphanage but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. But today, on his way home, when he passed the street where the thrift store was located on, he decided to swing by and see what he could find.

He picked up a few hardcovers of adventure books for children and flipped through them, but most of them were drawn on or had been scribbled into, so he put them back. The only one he kept was a book named “Cold River” by someone named William Judson. He had never heard of it, but the premise of two children stranded in the wild sounded interesting and maybe this was something the boys would like.

He was almost ready to go and check out his small find, when his eyes accidentally fell on a book in a different section of the shelves, and he did a double take. The cover of the book showed a familiar set of stone columns and an equally familiar entryway to an ancient Egyptian temple. He paused and picked the book up to make sure.

‘The Temple of Dendur’ published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was the temple in the museum that he had seen with June.

He smiled at the memory of the day he had spent in the huge museum complex with June earlier this year, her almost contagious excitement for the artifacts in the Egyptian wing and all the random tidbits of knowledge she had unearthed from her memory.

He thumbed through the pages and was pleased to find it in excellent condition. No torn pages or scribblings or bent edges. It even contained glossy pages in the middle with color pictures of the temple and details in its architecture.

The store wanted only eight dollar for it and Bucky decided to buy it. A smile spread across his face when he thought about giving it to her later today.

The second June opened the door to her apartment after him knocking he realized she wasn’t alone. Several voices drifted over to him before she even had time to react to his unexpected visit to her place.

“Bucky! I wasn’t expecting you today!”

Bucky returned her smile. He felt a little stupid all of a sudden. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that she had plans before he decided to barge in like this. Of course, she had other things going on in her life. She wasn’t like him; she actually had a social life and friends beside him and the people at the orphanage.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he mumbled, not sure whether to stay or to turn around and go back to his own place and wait for another day.

“No, it’s fine. I just have a few friends over for dinner. What’s up? Do you want to come in?”

Clumsily fumbling with the paper bag from the thrift store Bucky cleared his throat. He was about to say something when a bubbly young woman with copper red curls appeared in the door frame.

“Girl, I can't find that damn bottle opener,” she said towards June before redirecting her attention to Bucky. She casually put an arm around June’s shoulders, the other hand nonchalantly on her hip and unabashedly looked Bucky up and down.

“I didn’t know you invited any guys,” she then remarked. From the tone of her voice Bucky couldn’t quite tell if she approved of the idea or not. She didn’t seem displeased but at the same time not overly enthusiastic either. Only when June answered her demeanor changed.

“This is my friend and neighbor, Bucky.”

The redheaded woman’s eyer turned wide in response.

“That’s the neighbor you’ve been hanging out with?! Girl! You never mentioned that he’s cute! Ask him in!”

“I don’t want to impose …” Bucky mumbled.

“Nonsense, we cooked way too much food, you can help us eat it. Come in!” June made an inviting gesture with her hand and took a step to the side to let Bucky through the door. The redhead seemed to be pleased and impatiently waved him inside.

"Exactly! I promise I won’t bite … hard…”

She giggled at her own words while Bucky sheepishly cleared his throat. Her brash personality caught him off guard, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her. Maybe this was just her way with people, but it felt a little like she was trying to flirt with him and something in him, he realized, hoped that she wasn’t.

“I’m Stephanie by the way and that over there is Javiera.”

The redhead pointed towards Junes living room and Bucky followed the direction with his eyes. Sitting on the couch was another woman, roughly the same age as June and the redhead. Her black hair reached halfway down her back in a long thick braid and her face lit up with a warm smile as she turned around towards him.

“Everyone calls me Vivi,” she said. She had a small accent that he detected when she spoke. Most people probably wouldn’t notice it, it was that faint, but his trained ear picked it up. it was the way she rolled the “r” a bit in some words that gave her away as a Spanish speaker.

“I really didn’t mean to intrude on you and your friends,” Bucky mumbled in June's direction. He felt out of place and honestly a little pathetic.

“Don’t be silly. You know you are always welcome here! Have a seat, I will be there in a minute, I just have to find that bottle opener.”

With that June disappeared back into the kitchen, where he could hear her pulling open drawers.

“Do you both work with June at the school?” Bucky asked, attempting to make some small talk while Stephanie maneuvered him towards the living room. She laughed in reply to his question before she blurted out:

“Good lord, no.”

Bucky sat down in the armchair across from the couch and while sitting down from the corner of his eye caught a little eye roll from Javiera across from him.

“I am a physical therapist in Mount Sinai. Stephanie is in administration now. We all went to nursing school together,” she inserted calmly. She had a warm, gentle sounding voice, which was quite a contrast to Stephanie’s loud, raspy one.

“The pay is better, and I don’t have to deal with kids,” Stephanie added as she plopped back onto the couch, with a tone that made it sound like she expected approval.

Bucky knitted his brows but didn’t say anything. What a weird flex it had become with people in this century to dislike children and to proclaim it so loudly. As if it somehow made them edgy and cool. It was something he had noticed a lot lately, how children seemed to be perceived as merely an annoyance by so many, not a part of society.

“What are you doing for a living? I don’t think June ever mentioned it.”

Bucky evaded the piercing gaze that accompanied Stephanie’s question - a question that didn’t feel as innocent as it was made to sound.

“I am retired military.” That answer usually was enough information to satisfy people’s curiosity and vague enough to not reveal too much. But for some reason Stephanie didn’t seem content with that little information.

“So, are you like – a combat veteran?”

Bucky nodded reluctantly. He had a feeling she would keep prying, and he hated it already. He really didn’t feel like talking about any of this to begin with and particularly not on a first meeting like this.

“Afghanistan? Iraq?”

“Stephanie!” Javiera hissed at her friend for the bold question and Stephanie returned the disgruntled look from her friend with a shrug as if to ask what the issue even was.

“What? I am just trying to get to know the guy!” the redhead declared and turned her attention back to Bucky. Bucky suppressed a sigh before he finally replied:

“I really can’t talk about that.”

“I mean, he could, but he would have to kill you afterwards. His missions were top secret.”

Bucky looked up when June’s voice interrupted the conversation as she joined them in the living room. She winked at him while she handed him a drink and then squeezed into the middle seat on the couch between her two friends, balancing a glass of wine in her hand. Javiera chuckled quietly and took a sip from her own drink while Stephanie made a face at June. But Stephanie recovered quickly and immediately turned her attention back to Bucky, seemingly dead set on interrogating him some more.

“So, since you apparently weren’t on the guest list – what brought you to June’s place?”

Bucky managed to not let out an annoyed noise. That woman was absolutely relentless.

He cleared his throat and fumbled with the handle of the paper bag that he was still holding on to. This was not quite how he thought this would be going, a big audience wasn’t what he had expected.

Nevertheless, he handed the paper bag to June, bashfully looking past all three women.

“I found something that I thought you would like.” His voice suddenly cracked, and he coughed slightly to distract from it. Why was his voice acting up suddenly and why, was he suddenly feeling nervous when June opened the paper bag.

“No way!”

June dropped the bag on the floor and stared at the book in disbelief.

“This has been out of print for ages! Where did you get that?”

“A lucky find at the thrift store,” he replied. He realized he was smiling as he watched June flip through the pages of the book. She let out a little squeal when she found the glossy pages in the middle with the detailed color pictures.

“You bought her a book about her favorite thing in the MET? That is so cute,” Javiera interjected from the side.

June closed the book and looked up at Bucky.

“Thank you. Really. This is so sweet of you.”

Bucky coughed slightly, awkwardly fidgeting with the edge of a throw-pillow. He could feel the eyes of all three women on him and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He should have waited with this until the next time he caught her alone, not do this in front of her friends, embarrassing her and himself.

The oven timer saved him, when it went off with a shrill sound and snapped them all out of the sheepish silence.”

“I hope you are hungry. June made her famous lasagna,” Javiera said towards Bucky, before turning to Stephanie. “Let’s get a fourth plate out.”

Within minutes there was a fourth set of plates, glasses and silverware put out and the lasagna – still sizzling in the pan was on the table. June served the food, Javiera poured the wine.

Bucky sat listened to the conversation between the three women for without participating in it for a while. It was not that he was actively trying to be anti-social, but he was relieved that Stephanie had finally ceased badgering him and instead tried to convince her friends to join her on a tour through some Manhattan dance clubs this upcoming weekend.

“You guys are boring!” She grumbled, when neither June nor Javiera really expressed any interest in participating.

“Stephanie, I am getting too old for this!” June declared. Stephanie looked as if she was going to throw her hands in the air.

“Oh Lord almighty! We are in our thirties not about to hit sixty! Live a little, girls!”

“Believe it or not, but not everyone wants to go clubbing every weekend! I enjoy doing other things on my weekends.” Javiera agreed with June. Stephanie huffed.

“What are you going to do instead, go to Coney Island?”

“Coney Island is fun.” The words had slipped out before Bucky had thought about it and he could feel all three women turn to him. He wasn’t sure if it was what he said it or rather the fact that he spoke up at all that made them all look so surprised.

“Yeah ... if you are in elementary school – or if you were born in the twenties. Which one are you.?” she shot at him with a glare.

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B,” he replied with a deadpan voice, which made Javiera laugh.

“What about some dancing at the club?” Stephanie inquired. Bucky shrugged.

He remembered the nightclub atmosphere at Sharon’s party in uptown Madripoor, the hammering beats, the pounding bass reverberating in his chest, the sweaty bodies of the dancers in the overcrowded, overheated room. He hadn’t been to any dance clubs here in the States, but if they were anything like it none of it sounded appealing to him.

He shook his head no.

“I think I’ll pass too.”

“Counter question – will you be coming to the cabin with us?”

Stephanie reacted with an indignant face to June’s question.

“No, girls, you go on to the cabin in the wilderness, I prefer the comforts of civilization,” she shot back.

“It’s less than two hours out of the city, Stephanie, not the Yukon,” June replied while Javiera looked from one to the other and back with a smirk.

“That’s pretty much the same to me. You know I am a city girl.”

Javiera could barely bite back the laughter and June quickly covered her mouth with her napkin, her shoulders shaking as she quietly laughed.

From there on the conversation continued with the same good-natured banter between the three friends while Bucky sat back and enjoyed the food

The pedestrian light changed to green and Bucky and Javiera crossed the street, passing the few vehicles that had to stop at the intersection. Traffic had slowed down and only occasionally did some pedestrians cross their path. It was a warm summer night, and the main streets were busy with people on their way to the restaurants and bars or back home but the residential street they were on was almost deserted.

Above, in the cinder block fronts of the houses many of the windows were still brightly lit, casting their glow on the walkway below. The air-conditioning units dangling from the window frames hummed, their noise mixing with the sound of the cars from the main roads.

After dinner Bucky had helped the women clean up the kitchen and dishes. Stephanie had excused herself first and not long after that Javiera had decided to leave too.

She didn’t live far from June and Bucky’s building and had pondered if she should call herself an Uber or just risk walking home until Bucky had offered to just go with her if that made her feel safer. So now he found himself walking next to the young Latina woman trying to make small talk.

When a drunk man came stumbling out of an alleyway, mumbling to himself something about gods and aliens Javiera jumped. The wild eyes and erratic movements of the stranger immediately set off Bucky’s defenses.

With a quick step he brought himself between Javiera and the disheveled looking man, extending his arm to lead her behind himself in a protective gesture. His muscles tense and ready to fight, if necessary, he followed the movements of the intoxicated man with his eyes, his trained senses carefully assessed the threat he posed.

The stranger stared at them blankly for a few seconds, slowly blinking, as if he was trying to process something while he steadied himself against a lamppost. But after a few seconds in which he barely even acknowledged their presence, he continued to ramble to himself about other dimensions and beings from outer space, and then half swaggered half staggered down the sidewalk the opposite direction. Bucky kept his eyes on him until he was a good distance down the road and his voice faded into the noise of the passing traffic.

“You alright?” Bucky finally asked and looked at Javiera for the first time. He could see her exhale deeply and she nodded. It was obvious that the stranger had startled her and that he had felt like a threat to her. Only slowly did it seem like she relaxed again, the more the distance between them and the drunk stranger grew.

“Yes,” she mumbled quietly, casting a final glance over her shoulder before the both of them continued their way.

People like this were exactly the reason women didn’t feel safe, Bucky thought, and he could understand her fear. The streets of greater New York at night were not a safe place for a woman alone. He didn’t know if it had been like this before the snap or if this was something new and if the blip and the five years that followed were the cause of it. But he knew the city was not what it used to be in his youth.

It had been a shock when he had returned here for the first time since escaping Hydra. He’d come here, unprepared for the change that awaited him.

His new life had been handed to him then. His new apartment - in Brooklynn because he requested to return to his old neighborhood - a driver's license, a military ID, and his new social security card. Somehow, they actually had managed to reactivate his original Social Security Number issued to him in 1936 and his original benefits number from the Army.

They’d awarded him a sum of money – his back pay for his years missing in action that they calculated somehow – officially retired him from active duty and sent him his merry way.

His head had still been spinning from everything that had happened so quickly in those weeks he’d barely been able to understand half of the legal speak that was thrown around. He just accepted his fate and rolled with the punches.

He only realized that he had been lost in his own mind for a while when Javiera next to him suddenly spoke up.

“I see now what June meant when she said that she feels safe around you.”

He stopped in the middle of the road, and she kept going for a few more steps before she noticed and turned to see where he suddenly went.

“She said that?”

“Yeah – she said you are a natural protector.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. A few months ago, all he knew was people reacting to him with fear and terror.

Hearing this was a whole new sensation – a pleasant one at that.

“You know, we all were a little worried when she told us she started hanging out with her new neighbor,” Javiera continued, “you were a stranger and some things she told us seemed a bit – odd. Especially Stephanie was suspicious. That’s why she interrogated you like that earlier.”

Bucky still didn’t reply, but maybe his silence spoke for itself because Javiera added:

“I can tell, you don’t like Stephanie.”

Bucky raised his hands in a defensive gesture and shook his head.

“She is June’s friend; it really doesn’t matter whether I like her or not.”

Javiera giggled.

“That’s a very diplomatic answer.”

Her words followed silence again and Bucky was almost glad when she finally stopped in front of a building and started searching in her purse for her keys. She looked up to him twisting the almost ridiculously large collection of keys attached to a long lanyard in her hands.

“Steph wasn’t always like this, you know? This - brazen. She was a sweet, mellow girl when we met her. The blip changed a lot of things,” she said.

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled quietly, “I guess ...”

“June and I decided to spend our energy helping people when we returned. Stephanie decided to live life to the fullest because every day could be the last. We all deal in our own way with what we found when we came back ...”

She sounded solemn suddenly, her words slightly ominous and both of it made him wonder if there was a bigger story to that comment that he wasn’t aware of.

But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she wasn’t exclusively talking about the three of them; that he was somehow included in this statement too.

Maybe she knew more than she let on. Maybe she had recognized him and was too polite to say something. Or maybe this statement included everyone. Everyone who was doing something one moment to return to a changed world in what felt like moments.

Javiera thanked him again for walking her home and after waiting for the door of her building to close behind her Bucky turned around and started walking back to his own place.

He walked faster, now that he was by himself, and reached the front door of his apartment within a few minutes. But he had barely closed the door behind himself when he heard someone knocking.

A frown on his forehead he opened the door again to find June outside. She pushed past him into his apartment while he was still holding the door.

“Hey, thanks for walking Vivi home,” she said.

“Sure," he replied still confused, wondering if she had stayed up and waited for him just to tell him that.

“So...” She interrupted herself before she had even really started the sentence and was fidgeting with her fingers. Bucky's confusion grew. What was happening right now?

“I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of my friends but – I wanted to ask you to - come along to the cabin with us in two weeks?”

He looked at her, speechless for the moment. That was not what he had expected.

“It's the fourth of July we are making a bonfire and have food and watch the fireworks. It will be fun!" June added with a questioning look

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” The words were out before his brain even had a chance to catch up and he immediately knew that June did not like his reply. She let out a huff of indignation and gave him a warning look, that made his brain kick back in.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“I wouldn’t ask you if you were imposing. You need to stop thinking that you’re a burden to everyone. When I ask you to do something with me, I mean it.”

That one hit home.

Bucky swallowed hard and gave her a short nod, trying not to let it show how deeply her words had shaken him. A burden to everyone, never had anyone put into so few words the feelings he had such a hard time articulating. He took a deep breath. Dr. Raynor would certainly be very interested in hearing about this next week.

“So again, you are not imposing. But if it makes you feel better, I will let you fix something while we are there, deal?” June finally interrupted the silence.

Bucky laughed at the teasing tone of her voice and nodded.

“Alright. Deal.”"

“Great! We are leaving Monday in a week, that gives me enough time to set things up. I gotta run, I have work in the morning, good night!"

And with that she was out the door in a whirl, as quickly and unexpectedly as she had shown up, leaving Bucky behind to contemplate her words.

Chapter Text

The sky outside the big window was slowly beginning to turn a few shades darker and the first clouds started to show a red hue to them as the sun inched closer to the horizon.

Bucky dipped his last two fries into the ketchup on his plate and washed them down with a sip of his soda.

They had stopped to get some food on the way, in this small mom and pop diner in a town he had never heard of half an hour ago. Now they were sitting in the booth of the formica table and the turquoise faux leather benches, finishing up their meals to the sound of the music from the old-fashioned jukebox and he’d enjoyed both more than he had expected.

When June had invited him to come along with her friend group to spend a few days in her family cabin he had reluctantly agreed, mainly because she had insisted. But over the last few days doubt had taken root in him, whether it was such a good idea to go on this trip after all. Spending several days in close quarters with a group of people he didn’t know suddenly didn’t sound like that good an idea anymore, now that it was actually happening and had felt apprehensive the whole ride.

The thought that he could lose it in front of a bunch of her friends and have a panic attack was mortifying, and if he’d had the guts to actually see the disappointment in her eyes, he would have canceled on her a couple of days ago.

“Bucky!” June’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he realized he had been staring out of the window for at least the length of one song, because the one playing now was a different one than when his thoughts started drifting.

He turned his head to June and produced a small smile.

“You’re doing the staring thing again, Bucky.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“’Bout what?”

With a deep sigh Bucky leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms. For a moment he watched June stirring the ice cubes in her otherwise empty soda class with her straw. Her thick brown knit cardigan had slipped off her shoulder on one side revealing the strap of her bright pink tank top and the pale skin on her shoulder.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m overthinking again.” he finally said.

In the months of therapy that he had gone through he had learned to acknowledge that sometimes his mind tended to run away with him, and that he started to way overthink things then. His thoughts would go into this spiral and think up scenarios of what could go wrong or go to dark places from which he couldn’t escape.

She frowned and he knew she was about to ask him if something was bothering him. But he didn’t want to put a dampener on the good mood she was in, looking forward to this little vacation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head and made a dismissive hand gesture and quickly changed the topic to the first thing he could think of.

“So... this cabin has been your family’s for a long time?”

The smirk that immediately flashed across her face told him she had caught on to what he was doing. But if he was honest with himself, he would have been surprised if she didn’t. She had proven herself to be observant and he didn’t fool himself into thinking he was particularly subtle.

“Smooth,” she teased him, earning herself a sarcastic grimace from Bucky in return, but then went along with it.

“We used to rent it in the summer ever since we moved to New York. My mom took my brother and me there for a few weeks and my dad would work during the week and join us there on the weekends. And the last week of our vacation he took his PTO at work and spent the whole week there. When it came up for sale he bought it, and it has been in the family ever since.”

In his mind he could picture it, a summer by the lake, away from the city, days in the sun, swimming in the cool water ... it sounded like a great way to grow up, so different from his own childhood.

He had started taking on odd jobs ever since he was ten, and his vacations had consisted of weekend trips to the beach when he was lucky. His parents had tried to give him and Rebecca a worry-free childhood, but the Great Depression didn’t make things easy for them.

And after high school he immediately started working at the docks, leaving him only the weekends.

“And you have been hosting this little get together with your friends since college?”

“Not right after college, a few years later, but yes. I have been doing this for a while now.”

“Always the same people?”

He saw a shadow slip across her face following his question, making him wonder for a moment if he said something wrong. Then she shrugged.

“For the most part,” she replied evasively. Her voice seemed thin and almost as if to distract from it, she signaled the waitress for the check. Then she cleared her throat and tried taking a drink from her glass, only realizing then that she had emptied it already.

“Here. Have mine.” Bucky pushed his cup across the table towards her and without hesitating a beat she took it and took a big swig from the straw. The waitress showed up with their check and before June could protest Bucky pulled out his wallet and counted the amount and a generous tip out in bills and handed them to her.

“My treat. It's the least I can contribute.”

“If you insist,” she said, and he nodded.

“I do.”

“In that case …" She raised her hands in a surrendering gesture, before starting to gather her keys and purse from next to her on the bench. “Let’s get going. We still have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

They drove for another hour, following the freeway east for a while, before taking an exit and continuing on a smaller country road. On the signs along the road, he read names like Woodstock and Picatinny while the sky grew darker over the shadowy green forest they were driving through.

June had the radio on and occasionally she started absentmindedly humming along with the melodies. Bucky had stayed quiet ever since they left the freeway, letting her focus on the winding country road. But it seemed like she knew the way well, like she had driven it hundreds of times.

As darkness settled over them, she turned the car on a narrow gravel road, ignoring the sign stating, ‘private property, no trespassing’.

Finally in the cone of the headlights a house appeared. A log house, set in between the lush green trees. The small windows reflected the headlights of the car, otherwise everything was pitch dark.

He couldn’t tell how large the house was from here, but since she referred to it as “the cabin” he assumed it wasn’t very large.

June parked the car close to what appeared to be the front door and pulled out a flashlight, before turning the engine off. For a moment everything sunk into complete darkness before the flashlight abruptly came on and illuminated the interior of the car.

“Hank didn’t turn the lights on, but we’ll be fine. If the electricity is out, we have a generator in the back”, she explained.

She didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned. Bucky wasn’t sure if that would put him at ease eventually. Right now, he still was on edge. The darkness could be hiding all kinds of dangers, from wild animals prowling for prey to more nefarious things he didn’t want to think about right now.

He followed June when she got out of the car and he fished both their bags from the backseat, while June grabbed the two paper bags with groceries. When all car doors were closed, she locked the vehicle and led the way to the front door.

Her hand found a light-switch right next to the door and Bucky flinched at the lights blazed up. His eyes adjusted quickly to the bright porch light, and he took a quick look around. Trees were growing pretty close to the house, the gravel road they had come on led into the darkness.

In the distance he could hear an owl, the scurrying of a few startled rodents and the sound of water lapping against a shore. Probably the lake the cabin was next to according to her descriptions.

In the meantime, June had unlocked the front door and turned on the lights inside the house.

“Welcome to the cabin.” June made an inviting gesture and Bucky followed her inside and put their luggage to the side against the wall.

The front door led into a large main room - larger than he had anticipated for something that was referred to as a cabin. It housed a cozy living area with a fireplace, built from natural stone, a large, comfortable looking couch, an L-shaped kitchen and a large round oak dining table with four matching chairs.

The interior was rustic. The walls were paneled with wood, a framed picture of a lake with a forest in the background adorned the chimney above the fireplace. On both sides of the chimney where large French doors that – as far as he could tell – let to a porch on the other side of the cabin.

The air smelled a bit stale, like the cabin had been sitting empty for a while but he could tell someone had opened the windows earlier in an attempt to let fresh air inside.

While he looked around June had quickly put the perishable groceries in the fridge and left the rest on the counter next to the sink.

“Would you be awfully mad if I went to bed right away? I had a really long day at summer school, and I need some sleep.”

“Of course! You really should have let me drive.”

“You know I don’t like being in the passenger seat,” she replied with a shrug, and he nodded. He had offered many times in the last months to do some of the driving to the manor too, but she had never taken him up on the offer, simply stating that she felt more comfortable being the driver herself. So, he had eventually accepted his position as her co-pilot if that was what she preferred.

“My bedroom’s going to be on this side,” June pointed at a little unlit hallway to her right. “You’re going to be on the other side of the building. You have the master.”

Bucky's eyes followed her pointing again, this time in the opposite direction. He spotted a large double door, made from the same wood as the wall paneling, which made the door almost disappear into the surface.

“I think you should have the master, it’s your cabin,” he objected, uncomfortable at the idea of being given the largest bedroom. But June shook her head.

“My bedroom has been my bedroom since I was a girl. I’ll stay there. I appreciate the offer though.” Her reply was so matter-of-factly, that Bucky was not left with any alternative than accepting.

“If you insist,” Bucky mumbled, inadvertently using the same words as she did earlier which made her giggle.

“I do,” she replied – repeating his words back to him with a wink that brought a smile to his face.

Bucky took her small carry-on-sized suitcase and followed her in the little hallway and through one of three doors there. The room was small but cozy with two beds on opposite sides of the room and an oval braided rug in between them on the ground. A shelf held some trinkets and books and each of the beds had a small nightstand with a little lamp.

He put June’s small suitcase down on the ground by the door.

“Hank and Rosie put fresh linen on the beds, towels are in the bathroom to your left. Turn on the water heater and you have hot water in 5 minutes. If you need me, I will be in here.”

Bucky nodded and wished June a good night before he closed the door on his way out and returned to the kitchen, where he picked up his bag and went to check out his own bedroom.

Chapter Text

He woke up to the sound of birds outside his bedroom window. It took him a moment before he remembered where exactly he was, but then it all came back to him.

Stretching under the soft blanket he turned his head towards the window. In the gap between the two curtains, he could see some green from a tree and the deep blue of the sky. Birdsong drifted in from outside only slightly muffled through the windows.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up to songbirds chirping away in the trees. Had he ever? Had it been in Wakanda? He was not quite sure, but it probably was.

Last night, after they both had retreated to their respective rooms, Bucky had turned on the water heater like June had told him, and unpacked the clothes he had brought while the water was heating up. He had only taken a quick shower, not sure how long the hot water would last and then just slipped on some underwear and a T-shirt and gone to bed.

He had actually slept well last night. For his standards at least. He remembered some jumbled dreams, but he was fairly certain that he hadn’t jolted awake from a nightmare sweating and panting – and that was an improvement over many other nights.

He turned his head the other way, where – he remembered from last night – an alarm clock stood on top of a small nightstand.

It was just after eight.

He flung the blanket back and sat up. The wooden floor was cold against his feet, and he shivered as he strolled over to the dresser, where he had put his clothes last night. He grabbed a sweater that he put on and then walked over to the window.

When he pushed the curtains back immediately the sunlight flooded into the room. He squinted against the glare and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the bright morning sun. Only then he saw the view outside his window.

On the other side of a large wooden wrap-around deck a lush green lawn gently sloped down to a large, dark blue lake. A wooden dock extended out on the lake, the wind rippled the surface of the water, some ducks were paddling by and in the distance, he could make out the other shore of the lake, covered by tall trees.

He opened the window and let in the clear morning air. The wind was gently rustling in the leaves, the birds were singing everywhere – it was a picture of peace. Suddenly he felt the urge to go for a run in this fresh still cool summer air. Eagerly he turned back to the room, changed quickly into his running gear, and walked out into the main room.

Everything was just like they had left it last night. Some of the groceries they brought along on the kitchen island, June’s sweater thrown over the backrest of a barstool. June apparently was still sleeping. Not wanting to worry her he grabbed the little notepad that clung to the fridge door with a magnet and scribbled a quick message down that he went for a run, before he unlocked the front door and started jogging down the gravel path.

He returned to the cabin an hour later, sweaty and out of breath but almost euphoric from the run. He slowed down a few hundred feet from the front door to catch his breath and stretch his limbs after the exercise, before he strolled through the front door.

He was met by the smell of fresh brewed coffee in the air and music playing from a small stereo in the corner – some guitar heavy song about a place called Shenandoah River and country roads that he had never heard before.

June stood in the kitchen, absentmindedly stirring in a large mug of coffee and didn’t seem to notice him until he pulled the door closed behind him. That's when she turned around to him.

“Oh hey! Good morning! Did you enjoy your run?”

She looked very summery in her denim shorts and a sunflower yellow t-shirt.

Bucky nodded in response and opened the fridge. He found some bottles of water, took one and downed it in one go. When he threw the bottle in the trashcan, she noticed he wasn’t wearing his glove.

From just above the wrist down his bionic hand was exposed, vibranium plates with the golden inlays clearly visible and he didn’t pull back when he noticed her looking at it.

For a few moments her gaze stayed on the shiny black metal, her face showing nothing but a slight hint of curiosity. He had never allowed her to see his prosthetic before – not like this.

The times she had seen a glimpse of it had been by accident, his sleeve slipping up while doing something, revealing it just for the briefest of moments. Every time he had covered it up quickly, by bashfully tugging his sleeve back down to his glove, her pretending she didn’t notice it and him pretending he didn’t know she was pretending.

Feeling a little awkward after all Bucky cleared his throat and stretched his hand, turning it palm down and then back up.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind ...”

“Of course not,” she replied.

She went back to stirring her coffee, redirecting her eyes towards her coffee mug while Bucky still looked down at the intricate construction that was his artificial hand.

“I never really felt comfortable showing it – outside of missions with Steve or Sam ... With the Avengers it never mattered ...”

“It doesn’t matter to me either,” she replied, then took a sip of her coffee.

“I know.” His reply sounded flat, and he knew it – unconvinced and unconvincing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe her. He did – he really wanted to. And he was pretty sure that some part of him really did. But there still was that nagging feeling that he couldn’t quite shake.

“Do you want a coffee? I made plenty,” June finally asked after several seconds of silence. “Hank and Rosie left us croissants for breakfast today.”

Bucky nodded. He was hungry and some coffee and pastries sounded great right now.

“I will take a shower first, but yes! Absolutely.”

June gave him a quick nod while she took one of the pastries out of the plastic container and placed it on a small plate.

“I will be on the porch.”

Bucky rinsed off in record speed in his bathroom, not bothering with waiting until the water heater had warmed up enough for a warm shower. The day was sunny and warm, and his body was heated up from the run, the lukewarm water felt nice and refreshing.

He dried himself off and dug through his bag for a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt. When he was dressed, he poured himself a black coffee in the kitchen and then joined June on the sunny porch.

He settled into one of the patio chairs by the round metal table and put down his mug across from June’s.

She had her face turned to the sun, her eyes closed, her head leaned back against the high backrest of her chair. She smiled when she heard him sit down near her, but she didn’t move.

He watched her for a small while like this, just sitting there, not moving, not speaking, just relaxing in the sunshine. For a moment he thought that she had fallen asleep but then a smile started spreading across her face.

“What are you doing?” he asked her with a frown. Only then she turned her head towards him and opened her eyes.

“Do you hear it?” she asked in return.

Bucky paused and listened intently, but even with his enhanced senses all he could hear was the birds singing in the trees and the wind rustling gently in the leaves. Slightly confused, he shook his head.

“Hear what?”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “It’s quiet. There are no cars, no sirens, no horns, no helicopters in the sky, it’s just quiet!”

Bucky chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he admitted. It reminded him of the peaceful quiet of the Wakandan countryside. The warm breeze, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore of the lake. All that was missing was the bleating of the goats and the voices of the children playing nearby.

“I like Brooklyn, I really do. But sometimes I wish I could live out here, away from all of it,” June pondered.

“Why can’t you?”

June shrugged.

“I probably could ...” She paused and Bucky didn’t say anything because he felt a ‘but’ coming, and he didn’t have to wait for it too long. “But – then I would have to give up the orphanage. And just can’t do that right now.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He understood. He felt the same way about the orphanage although he was not quite sure if for the same reason. For himself it had become a sort of safe place, but he was left wondering about her reasons beyond mere charity.

It wasn’t something he had ever asked her or that ever came up in a conversation. He had always just accepted that this was what she did with her weekends, never wondering about her motives.

Both of them looked up at the same time and immediately exchanged a glance when the sound of a vehicle approaching interrupted the sounds of nature. Only moments later the crunching noise of tires of the gravel road got closer. The engine of the car stopped in front of the building and two car doors were opened.

A female voice said something and immediately June shot up from her chair.
“Hank? Rosie?” she called out and a few moments later two people rounded the corner of the cabin. June rushed down the stairs of the porch and rushed over to them, greeting them with a hug.

Bucky stayed back, watching them elatedly greet June. They were older than June, roughly the age he would expect her parents to be. Both of them had grey hair, the man also sported a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a flannel shirt, that made him look a little like a farmer, and she was clad in a flower printed buttoned up dress, that gave her a bit of an old-fashioned appearance.

Bucky rose from his chair when June invited the couple to join them on the porch and shook each of their hand, when they introduced themselves to him. He hid his left hand behind his back and pulled his glove from his pocket where he had kept it just in case and had slid it on before either of the two newcomers had noticed him.

“Bucky? Why that’s a name I haven’t heard since I was a kid,” Rosie commented when June introduced him to her, and June was quick to reply: “He is one of my friends who are coming for the 4th of July.” As if everything was explained with that sentence.

The two older people took a seat at the table after June invited them and Bucky grew a little tense when he realized that they were going to be staying for a while.

When June offered them some coffee and attempted to leave for the kitchen Bucky stopped her.

“Why don’t you stay here, and I make the coffee,” he suggested.

He was glad to get away for a few minutes, giving them some time to catch up and to evade any more questions about his name for the moment. He took his time brewing more coffee and carrying the mugs and coffee can outside, where all three of them were immersed in a conversation.

He rejoined them at the table because he felt like this was what was expected from him, what the social norm commanded, but he secretly wished he could escape. A few times Hank tried to include him in the conversation, but his evasive replies discouraged the older man quickly, and he went back to just talking to June.

Bucky noticed that Rose had been eyeing him curiously for a little while now, tensing up under her scrutinizing eye.

“Do I see something new developing here?” asked Rosie finally flat-out, looking at June, but tilting her head towards Bucky in what she probably thought to be an inconspicuous motion. Bucky caught the little eye roll from June that preceded her answer, a feeling he could relate to only too well. He hated people prying.

“No! Bucky is a friend. A good friend!” June clarified, stern but friendly and Rosie seemed strangely disappointed.

“That’s too bad,” she commented, adding after a few moments: “I was hoping you would start dating again. Hank and I were so sad when we heard about Mark and you.”

“Rosemary!”

Hanks sharp voice made the older woman abruptly shut up and bashfully lower her eyes.

“I’m just saying that ...” she tried to explain but was cut off by a hand gesture from her husband.

Hank immediately switched the subject and June joined in, very obviously relieved. Bucky could tell that she was trying to appear unbothered with her pointedly upbeat demeanor.

But the conversation didn’t return to the lighthearted tone it was before even though all of them tried. It was as if a shadow hung over it all and the older couple took their leave not long after.

June walked them to their car, said her goodbyes to them with another round of hugs before they got into their vehicle and drove away.

Bucky caught himself sighing a breath of relief when June waved after the leaving car, that quickly disappeared from sight behind a bend in the road.

Not that he didn’t like Hank and Rosie. They both seemed like genuinely nice and likable people. But Rosie in particular was a little too blunt with her questions and too quick to pick up on small details than he was comfortable with in a stranger.

June – albeit being clearly happy to have seen them – also seemed relieved that they had left when she turned back towards Bucky.

“Now you met Hank and Rosie,” she declared with a sigh. Bucky nodded but one question had been going through his mind ever since the name had been mentioned earlier:

“Who is Mark?”

He saw June flinch at the sound of the name and hoped he hadn’t overstepped. It was just that the mention of this name seemed to have changed the whole atmosphere earlier between them. There clearly was a story there, a story he didn’t know but that felt important.

June took a deep breath and released it with a sigh.

“Do you wanna take a walk? I think I want to go on a walk while I talk about that.”

The wind rippled the surface of the lake and made the tiny waves lick the dark grey sand of the beach. On the opposite side of the narrow beach the forest almost reached to the shore, once they left the patch of grass behind, that surrounded the cabin.

The day had warmed up significantly, Bucky could tell by the loud warbling of the cicadas that it would get hot today. He had learned in Wakanda to tell by the level of noise they made how hot the day would be and they didn’t err so far.

The summer breeze that was whispering in the trees still brought some relief, but he was already glad that he had changed into some lighter running gear.

The first few minutes they walked in silence, June apparently not ready to broach the subject and Bucky not pressuring her into it. They had left their shoes at the dock by the lake and started walking barefoot along the shore. The sandy beach seemed to stretch out for at least a mile as far as Bucky could see. They probably could walk for another hour at least at the speed they were going before they hit a patch they couldn’t walk on comfortably.

Every now and then June took a few steps into the greenish grey of the lake, splashing the cool water on her bare legs.

“Mark was my husband,” June finally disclosed without warning.

Bucky nodded. He remembered her talking about her having been married at one time. She had mentioned it that evening when she discovered his true identity, but he couldn’t remember if she had gone into more detail back then. His memory of that evening was vivid and fuzzy at the same time.

“We met while studying abroad in Italy. We were a thing but after I went home, we lost contact. We reconnected years later – then got married …”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say – if he was supposed to say something. To busy himself he bent down to pick up a small plum sized rock that stuck out of the sand. He looked at the stone way longer than necessary just because it gave him something to do, it was round, all edges ground off by the water.

“What happened?” Bucky asked finally, twisting the smooth rock in his hands.

June shrugged. She turned around to him walking a few steps backwards, facing him, watching him as he tossed the rock a few inches in the air and caught it again with his metal hand.

“Thanos happened, I dusted.” She turned back around, away from him, as if to hide her expression from him. Bucky noticed that her voice had turned solemn, and he felt a twinge of guilt rising in him.

He had been there at the battle of Wakanda, one of the people trying to stop Thanos from executing his plan. They had thrown all their forces at him and had still failed.

Now he himself hadn’t been there to see the aftermath either. He had gotten dusted himself. But he had seen the fallout upon his return, he had seen the waves it created throughout society. A small part of him still felt somehow responsible.

“And when I came back, he was married to someone else.”

“I’m sorry”, Bucky mumbled. He twisted the rock one more time in his hand and then launched it as far out onto the lake as his natural arm allowed. His eyes followed it describing a large curve in the air before disappearing into the water with a small splash.

When he turned back to June she had walked over to the edge of the forest, where she sat down on the trunk of a large fallen tree. He wandered over to her and sat down near her.

He watched her, while she drew circles into the sand with her toes, quiet, not certain if she wanted him to say something or not.

“She was my best friend, of all people,” June continued after a little while of silence, picking up where she had just left off, “They comforted each other when I disappeared and I guess, after a while one thing led to the other. So – I agreed to dissolving our marriage. I haven’t seen either of them since.”

She scoffed, running her fingers through her hair, and shaking her head.

“You know,” she pondered without looking at Bucky “the funny thing is, that it still hurts more to have lost my best friend than it did to lose my husband.”

Bucky could tell she wasn’t trying to sound bitter, but she wasn’t able to ban the harsh undertone from her voice that had found its way into her words.

He couldn’t blame her. He knew it far too well – the sting from being left behind by the person that was most important. He had felt it himself when Steve left to live his life with Peggy in the past.

Not that he had begrudged Steve the happy peaceful life he had lived, on the contrary! If there ever was a man deserving of a little happiness, it certainly was Steve. But despite his best efforts, Bucky couldn’t help feeling abandoned by his best friend. He understood all too well how she felt.

“This year will be the first year here without either of them.” A sigh followed June’s words.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it,” Bucky mumbled quietly and from the corner of his eye he could see her nod and heard her make a quiet ‘mhm’ noise.

“Of course, people have been hounding me already about starting to date again, as if I hadn’t just returned from being snapped out of existence, to the whole world being a completely different place.”

Bucky flinched at the words that sounded just too familiar. He of course knew this was not an experience exclusive to June and him, after all half of mankind had gone through being snapped, just like them. But it also rang true for his experience under Hydra and how he had found himself in a world he did neither know nor understand after he had escaped.

His face must have given his thoughts away because he suddenly found his pondering interrupted by June’s voice.

“God, Bucky, I am sorry. Here I am complaining about returning to a changed world to you of all people …”

Bucky raised his hands in a calming gesture and gently shook his head. He suddenly remembered something that Dr. Raynor had said to him a while back in one of their sessions.

“Pain and trauma are not a competition, my therapist said. She says, ‘feeling hurt is not reserved exclusively for the person who suffered the most’. There is always someone who had it worse. That doesn’t make the pain each of us suffers any less valid.”

“Damn ...” June muttered and fell silent. Bucky gave her a quick glance from the side, but she was staring at the sand in front of her feet while seemingly pondering his words.

“Your therapist is a smart woman,” June remarked eventually, and Bucky agreed with a slow nod.

“Yeah, she is. I didn’t always think of her that way, though. She gave me some tough love, and I didn’t always like it.”

“Really? You didn’t like that?” June replied sarcastically and then chuckled when Bucky turned to look at her. He gave her a smirk, that she returned.

“Maybe it is time that I start seeing a therapist myself”, she pondered quietly.

“Might not be a bad idea,” Bucky gave back and inwardly flinched a bit. He started to sound like Sam. “Everyone should go to therapy, says Sam.”“He is not wrong. Most of us have some sort of stuff going on they could use help dealing with …” she agreed.

They fell silent for a moment, then June cleared her throat.

“Alright, enough with the depressing shit now, alright? We have a ton of stuff to do, let’s head back?” she asked. She clearly tried to change the subject, away from the gloomy memories, and Bucky nodded in agreement.

They walked back to the cabin, both of them attempting to be lighthearted but a somber note lingered in their conversations for the rest of the afternoon. From the cabin they drove into the nearby town in her car, to shop for some more food for the coming days. June stopped at the gas station at the end of the town to grab some lawn torches and fire starters for the campfire.

She talked for a little with the lady working at the checkout, who asked about her family and June gave the socially acceptable pleasant answers. He could tell she was on edge, expecting more questions about her ex-husband but they didn’t come up. Maybe word had gotten around thanks to Rosemary.

Back at the cabin Bucky helped June to put up the long string of colorful fairy lights above the porch in preparation for the party the next day and hauled the patio furniture from the deck to the lawn around the fire pit.

When evening drew near, they cooked dinner together in the small kitchen and ate at the round dining table. He lit a fire in the fireplace, even though it wasn’t really cool, but it gave the place a cozy feel.

They watched a movie together, an older one with Marilyn Monroe and two men dressed up as women, hiding in a women’s orchestra from the mob. June had insisted on the choice, calling it a ‘pop culture must see’ and Bucky had to admit in between laughter that he did in fact enjoy the movie like she had promised him he would.

The cloud that had hung over the mood finally lifted over the silliness of the movie. Later, when he was staring at the dark ceiling from his bed, listening to the crickets chirping outside his open window, the warm wind rustling the half-closed curtains, he was still smiling to himself. And the last thought before he fell into a deep and dreamless slumber was that coming on this trip had been a good idea after all.