After Winter
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Chapter 6
Words: 1 789
The salty tears rolling down his cheeks silently had been replaced by prattling of scalding water from the showerhead in Steve's bathroom. The change had happened both because he needed to flee, to be alone with his thoughts and because he felt an urgent need to cleanse himself of the deeds he had been forced to do. Getting rid of the dark makeup around his eyes was a start, a first step towards getting clean. The rest would take more than water. A lot more. Perhaps more than there was.
As he allowed the water to sooth his body and mind, trying to only concentrate on the feeling then and there. Bucky could also vaguely hear that the discussion in the room next over was going strong. He could understand that Harry was upset. His life had been turned around. Bucky knew what it was like. It would have been good to be able to blame someone. A concrete person and not just ghosts and shadows without names or faces.
He didn't know who to blame for what he had become, or who to thank for actually giving him a second chance at life, however cursed an existence it had been for the most part. He knew that the ones who had retrieved him from the bottom of that narrow and snowy canyon a lifetime ago had been the Russians. Who had followed was unclear. The Soviet Union was gone and someone else had found him and deemed him a useful resource. These people had no names and no faces. He hadn't needed to know. Having him know could make him a liability and a gun was not supposed to have a mind.
"I don't understand any of this!" he heard Harry say in a loud voice, the sound of it carrying. He didn't understand either. His, their, situation was something on a completely different level compared to the ordinary.
His friend who had been a scrawny child, science had turned into the perfect soldier.
War had crippled him and the enemies had brought him back without his mind.
He had regained his mind, built a new life.
His wife was a witch, magic was real and it was beautiful, but with a dark backside.
The enemies re-emerged from the shadows, stealing him away and wiping away his memories.
Years of darkness, of callus murders, cold and destroyed thoughts.
Life brought back by green eyes.
His son's green eyes. The thought and the image came up in his mind again and again. Green eyes had saved him twice so how could he not worship them? He was already beginning to feel more for the boy. From the moment he realized who Harry was and he regained his memories he had been filled with unconditional love and the urge to protect, now that was being consolidated with true affection and pride.
The way Harry had been able to put aside his own emotions, the turmoil that was brewing within him and brave the storm was worth admiration. Bucky wished that he had been able to snap out of his own shock that much sooner, so that it would have been him who could comfort his son instead of the other way around.
In the end he believed that it had worked out well. Harry was no longer a babe protected by his mother's womb. He was a young man jaded by a life that had been harsher than any father would wish, and that was something Bucky had been able to see without being told any details. It had been right that they had comforted each other. It was not to be a one way relationship. Give and take. Give without restraint when needed. Prepared to accept what was offered in return.
Tears had been cried on both sides and no words had needed to be spoken as father and son met each other for the first time, a meeting that had nothing to do with hands being shaken, names being exchanged or platitudes muttered. It was a meeting on a different level. A meeting of two people who had unconsciously been searching for family since it was taken from them.
Bucky didn't know how long he stayed under the spray of the water, only that by the time he felt as if he was able to face the people waiting outside once more, the water had run cold. He still took his time, perusing the image in the mirror. He resembled the man he remembered more now than he had done when he stepped into this room. The dark shades around his eyes were gone, as was the heavy stubble on his chin. The hair was wrong however, too long, and dripping with water, which he couldn't be bothered to try and get rid off.
"Who are you?" he asked the reflection. It's only reply was a look of uncertainty.
He got into freshly laundered clothes that Steve had borrowed him, soft cotton in white and pale blue colours. Then there was nothing more keeping him.
He found the trio sitting where he had left them, slumped around the kitchen table with cold mugs of coffee. They were silent, and the feeling in the room was tense. Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly and gained their attention. "Does either one of you know how to cut hair? I'd really like to cut mine; it might help me feel a bit more like… me."
Steve was blank faced as he said this, Harry was frowning and Lupin looked contemplative.
"I can do it," the grown up wizard said. "I've cut my own hair many times and it's easy enough if you don't mind me using…" he trailed off and glanced uncertainly at Steve.
"Magic is fine," Bucky said in reply to the unvoiced inquiry. He didn't like the idea of beating around the bush and as far as he was concerned Steve was alright to know. He wanted Harry to be a part of his life, which meant magic, and he wanted his friend to be a part of it too. The captain may as well find out about it now. It would not become any easier for stalling.
"Magic?" the blond asked, his tone suggesting that he believed it to be code for something, a natural thing to believe however wrong founded it was.
"Is it wise to let him know?" Lupin asked, somewhat hesitantly. The Statute of Secrecy was surely on his mind.
"I trust him."
Those three words made Steve grin, his face lighting up brilliant like the sun. It was disconcerting. His reaction too was disconcerting. To see his friend smile as their relationship was affirmed should be a source of joy for him not a wrenching feeling in his gut. But they had been separated for so long. He didn't know Steve's full story, he could only imagine from what he knew about himself. He himself was an altogether different man than he had been when they knew each other. He may want to be the same Bucky he had been in Brooklyn. The same Sergeant Barnes who had been one of the members of the Howling Commandos.
He wasn't. He could never be. He had seen and done so much since then. Too much. He didn't think he could become that innocent again. But he could perhaps become the man he had been when he was with Lily. Then he had already lived as the Winter Soldier, it had been all he remembered, even if he had come to sense that all of it was wrong. If he had managed that then, when he had no good memories to solidify his quest for happiness, he could manage it again. Somehow. He had something to fight for. He cast a lingering glance at Harry. He had everything to fight for.
"I'll just go ahead and cut your hair then," Lupin said, drawing him back to the task at hand, no matter how menial it was.
"Please do," he said quietly, shuffling his feet feeling awkward again. Blood stained his hands, the real one and the metal one. They were red even though they were recently washed. He could see the stains of many dozen lives taken on those hands. How could he be placed in the domestic environment that was Steve's kitchen and expect to fit in?
The wizard took out his wand and steered the man whose hair he was about to cut to a chair, the movement once more drawing Bucky out of his dark thoughts.
Bucky regarded Steve as the wand was brandished and magic performed. Lupin seemed to keep an eye on the blond as well. The all American super soldier was watching as lengths of damp brown hair were cut and vanished with simple flicks of a wooden stick, his jaw agape in stupefaction and eyes beginning to shine with excited wonder.
When Bucky switched his gaze over to his son he noticed that the young man was nearly equally as enraptured by the simple show of magic as Steve. It was strange. There should be no need for a wizard of Harry's age to be intrigued by a simple magical haircut.
"I didn't know there was such a spell," Harry said idly, regarding the movements of Lupin's wand and listening to the muttered words of the enchantment. The simple statement made the wizard halt.
"Of course there is a spell for cutting hair," he said. "I'd had thought that you would have seen Mrs. Weasley perform it."
Bucky frowned. There was so much he didn't know. He had no idea who Mrs. Weasley was beyond some vague recognition of the name and an association with the colour of fire.
"Well, my aunt always cut my hair when I was younger," Harry muttered, "and she naturally didn't use magic." His tone was a bit darker here, and Bucky stiffened. His aunt. Petunia Dursley. He had no fond memories of the woman and it did not please him to hear that his son had had any interaction with Lily's sister.
"Then during the last year Hermione cut my hair," Harry continued. "I suppose she's never had to learn that particular spell, not having short hair herself and yeah. I bet that she'd love to learn it though."
"I expect so," Lupin said, a smile colouring his tone and continued with cutting Bucky's hair. One long wisp of brown hair after another disappearing. The image of the winter melting away.
But even during spring the frost can come and bite the first few flowers that brave through the crust of the earth searching for light.
"What was that about your aunt?" he asked.
End Chapter 6
AN 25th April 2014
Took me a bit longer to get this done, but here it is. More introspective thoughts, but we are moving on with the story, things are being revealed ever so slowly. Two new things are out. Steve's encountered magic and Bucky's been alerted to the Dursleys' involvement in Harry's life.
[Last edited October 2015]