Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay, I had my last week of work this past week and was also helping my friend move...it was a little crazy. But I'm back! I'm also out of town this week, on vacation, so I will try to update as much as I can. It might be a lot...and it also might not be. We'll see how that goes.

Thanks for everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed in the interim. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It's a bit sad at the beginning but it gets happier.

There's a really great and well-written story by an author called Lauralot that gave me the idea for Bucky's flashback in this chapter. The story's called When I Awoke Dear, I Was Mistaken. Go read it if you get the chance!

Anyway, as always, FEEDBACK PLEASE. Enjoy the chapter!

A couple use of d***/d*****, FYI.


Chapter Nine

A few days before the Fourth of July, Sam had returned to D.C., briefly, to settle some details regarding his (now old) house.

Bucky had progressed enough that Steve felt no fear in leaving him and Christy alone on their floor, while he went for a run. (Although he did tell Jarvis to alert the others if something went seriously wrong).

Christy woke up earlier than usual and sat on the couch, reading.

And, as usual, Bucky was watching her.

Watching things or people was an old, well-worn habit, even from before his Winter Soldier days. He had been a sniper after all. Over the weeks he'd been in the Tower, he'd made it almost a game to watch the others, taking note of facial expressions, body movements, speech quirks. It was almost…fun. For the first time in forever, that word had meaning.

And it was nice to simply observe people for observation's sake, as opposed to looking for a weakness to exploit.

Right now, Christy's face was scrunched up adorably as she read her book, her lips occasionally mouthing words. Suddenly, her lips gave a familiar twist, one that meant she was angry. She quickly folded down the corner of the book and thrust it aside, chest heaving.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked.

Christy frowned. "The girl in this book is such a jerk! I wanna smack her!" She got up and stormed into the kitchen. "I want tea." As she banged around, she kept venting.

"She's a brat and I don't like brats! I hate the way girls fight! Boys just hit each other and get it over with; girls use words, and words hurt worse!"

Bucky felt a smile stretch across his face. "I think Sam would have a long word to describe that."

"Oh, he does. It's called manipulation; when people use words like kicks and punches. I asked him about it."

When people use words like kicks and punches…

And suddenly, Bucky found himself thrown back into the past.

"Well, they found him! Frozen solid!"

The Soldier wasn't entirely sure who The Secretary was talking about, but it made The Secretary angry, and that was never good.

"He was lucky, you know. Died before he ever got the chance to have his ideals broken; died still believing in freedom and justice." The man practically spat out the last two words.

"He left you, you know."

The Soldier frowned. Someone left him? Left him where? When?

"Abandoned you…didn't even bother to search."

Search? The Soldier sat quietly, still as stone. The Secretary was looking more and more erratic, another bad sign.

"I saved you, you know. Got you back from those damned Russians…they didn't have the ability to maintain you! I gave you a purpose! I saved you!"

The Solider nodded quickly, because of course, one didn't argue with The Secretary.

But he couldn't help wondering who this man was that made his handler so angry.

"Uncle Bucky? Please come back! Are you in there?"

Bucky gave a long, shuddering breath, and tried to get a handle on his surroundings.

"Y-yeah. I'm here." he muttered.

"Look at me. Please!" Christy's voice sounded oddly authoritative and practiced, like she'd done this before.

Startled, Bucky turned and faced the girl, who was standing to the side of the couch.

"Okay. Okay. Sorry, but Dad told me to make sure he's looking at me, after a flashback, so that he'll know it's me moving around and not someone in the flashback. I figured same thing for you…"

She looked so serious that Bucky felt unconsciously guilty. "I'm back. I'm fine. Not gonna hurt you."

"Can…can I hug you?"

A hug…that sounded like a fantastic idea. "Yeah, actually, please…"

Without any further prompting, Christy flopped onto the couch and snuggled next to him.

"You're okay. The bad guys can't hurt you." she whispered.

Bucky shut his eyes and tried to work on breathing normally. Flashbacks during the day weren't usually as bad as the ones at night.

Breathe, breathe, everything will be fine. Breathe…


Steve's first clue that something was wrong was when he stepped off of the elevator on to his floor. Bucky and Christy were curled up on the couch, his friend's eyes edgy and slightly terrified.

Crap

"Hey, Buck." he said, careful to keep his voice steady. "How are you doing?"

Bucky shrugged slightly. Steve willed himself not to panic.

"Hi Daddy." Christy said, lifting her head up. "Uncle Bucky had a flashback."

Steve dropped onto the couch like a lead weight.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Just a flashback." Bucky said firmly. "I'm okay."

Steve rolled his eyes theatrically. "Not going to work on me, pal."

The two friends had a brief stare-off. Bucky finally heaved a sigh.

"It was him." he muttered. "Pierce. I…I think it was after you'd been found, in the ice. He was mad, sayin' somethin' about how you'd died believing in ideals and left me and he…saved me, or somethin'. Some lie."

"He said Dad left you?" Christy said, incredulous. She had been in bed several nights back, when all hell had broken loose over that topic. "Did he miss the part where you fell off a train and they thought you were dead? Or where Dad had nightmares for months? I can't believe he…ugh!" She suddenly stood up and ran out of the room.

Steve glanced after her and shook his head. "She'll be alright." he sighed. "It wasn't totally a lie." At Bucky's confused look, he added, "What he said to you, I mean. I…I did let you fall."

He slumped down, head in his hands. Bucky reached over and pulled his head up. This was not about to be a repeat of that other night.

Steve always did blame himself for everything… The thought flew through his mind like a missile.

"Yeah, okay, so ya let me fall." he whispered, his Brooklyn accent strong, the way it always was when memories kicked in. "But ever since you found me, you've been doin' a damn good job of holdin' on to me. You thought I was dead, so you didn't come looking. Well, I fell off a train! What else were you supposed to think? You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't abandon me."

Steve tried to protest, but Bucky cut him off. Something was taking over in his mind, making his words flow like a river.

"No, you listen to me, Steve Rogers. You always were too stubborn for your own good. Never could accept that there was something you couldn't do. But this was one time where you couldn't have known better. And if it makes you feel any better, I forgive you. Again. So quit beatin' yourself up!"

Steve sighed. He knew Bucky was right, but there was still that tiny portion of his mind that refused to absolve him of guilt, even after that crazy night, even now. "I…I'll try. And thanks."

"Anytime, punk."

There was silence for a long time. Once Steve had assured himself that things were more or less back to normal, he went to take a shower. Christy came out and sat back down on the couch.

"Sorry." she said. "I needed a sec."

Bucky gave her a lopsided half-smile. "Did you punch his face?"

"Yeah. A lot." Christy's eyes moved over to his metal arm and settled on the blood-red star.

"Have you thought about getting that changed?" she asked, tapping the shape. "I-I mean, you don't have to or anything, I was just wondering."

Bucky looked startled. "I kinda forgot about the star, it was always just there. I don't remember where it came from."

"Well, would you change it?" Christy persisted.

Bucky glanced at the star (red like blood, like death, like killing…) and found himself saying:

"What should I change it to?"

"Well, it's your arm…"

"And your idea. So what do you think?"

Christy gazed at the offending shape and bit her lip. She traced a small circle around it, then another, and another, and another, each growing progressively larger.

Bucky caught on and grinned, really grinned. "Yes…"

"You sure?"

"Yes. But where…?"

Christy grinned. "Where else?" She glanced up at the celling. "Jarvis?"

"Miss Rogers?"

"Is Uncle Tony in the lab?"

"Sir is currently occupying his lab, along with Dr. Banner. Shall I inform him of your coming?"

Christy glanced at Bucky. Bucky nodded.

"Yes, tell him we'll be there in…twenty minutes…?" Bucky nodded again. "Yeah, twenty minutes."

"Very well."

Christy grinned. "I gotta get dressed." She dashed into her room. Bucky, already dressed, wrote a note to Steve, saying where they'd gone.

Less than ten minutes later, Christy tore out of her room. "You ready?"

Bucky nodded. "Does Tony have paint?"

"Uh…I'd think so…yeah, he should. Let's go!"


Five minutes later, they stepped out of the elevator into Tony's lab. The billionaire sat tinkering with something, but spun around as soon as the elevator pinged. "Hey, Mini-Cap, Six-Million-Dollar Man! What's up?"

Christy rolled her eyes, but otherwise refrained from commenting.

Bucky held out his metal arm. "I need some assistance getting rid of this." He gestured to the star.

"Just getting rid of it or changing it?"

"Changing it. Christy had an idea."

"Which is…?"

Christy smiled her mega-watt grin. "Dad's shield. He's already got a star; all we gotta do is paint over the red with white and add rings."

"That sounds…vaguely symbolic." Came Bruce's voice from across the lab. "Paint over red with white, I mean. Like a fresh start."

Bucky nodded. "That's what I was trying for. And…" he looked shyly down at the floor, still unused to sharing his thoughts with people.

"And what?" Bruce prompted gently.

"And it's like I'm screwin' with HYDRA, well, the Soviet part of HYDRA. I don't much remember how it got there, but I think…I think it was supposed to be like a mark of ownership. Well, Steve already had almost a twenty-five year jump on 'em. I belonged to Steve Rogers long before I ever belonged to anyone else, and he was the only one who had me willingly. And vice versa. So it's only right to have the shield on my arm."

It was one of the longest speeches either Tony or Bruce had ever heard out of Bucky. Naturally, the room was pretty quiet for about half a minute.

Also just as naturally, Tony was the one to break the silence.

"Okay, well, let's get going, shall we, before Capsicle comes a-knockin'. Does he know you're here?"

Bucky nodded. "I left a note. He tends to get antsy if I disappear randomly."

Tony's jaw dropped comically. "Was…was that a joke? Oh my God, I think that was a joke!"

Christy groaned. "Uncle Tony, come on!"

"Alright, alright! One shield coming up!" Tony got up and started to root around in a drawer, returning with three tubes of paint and brushes.

"Ooh! This can be Dad's birthday present!" Christy cried. "'Cause it's in a few days!"

It is…? Bucky thought, feeling terrible. Then, something clicked.

That's right…he was born on the Fourth of July! He smiled, as another memory fizzled up from the depths.

"Look, Stevie! They put on fireworks just for you! The whole city's celebrating your birthday!"

"Am I the only one that thinks it's hilarious that Cap was born on the Fourth?" Tony asked, looking over the arm.

"No, you're not, but keep the jokes to a minimum." Bruce said, grinning slightly.

Tony smirked back, and then frowned. "The star's too big. If you want the shield, I'll have to get rid of this thing altogether."

Bucky hesitated for all of half a minute. "Get it off. Please."

Tony nodded. "Thought so. Right, one can of paint stripper, coming up!"

It took a while to get the paint off; it was old ("What did they make paint out of in the forties? Nuclear energy?" "No, but they did use lead…") and soaked in, but after much scrubbing, there was success at last.

When there was only a faint red smear left, Tony handed the rag out to Bucky. "Care to do the honors?"

Bucky looked confused for a moment…and then his lips curved in a smirking grin.

"Hey, I did it! I made the Terminator smile!" Tony crowed as Bucky grabbed the rag and rubbed it fiercely over the metal of his arm.

"Bye-bye, HYDRA." Christy muttered.

With a gleaming metal canvas to work on, Tony glanced up. "J? Can I have a template, please?"

A shimmering holographic image appeared on Bucky's arm, looking like a picture in a child's coloring book.

"Great." Tony winked at Christy. "I'm not an artist, but I can follow a blueprint."

Christy giggled.

It took about half an hour for Tony to paint over the tracing, creating a very nice miniature image of Steve's shield.

"Okay…done! It's gotta dry now, but it's all finished, other than that. Have a look, Robocop!"

Frowning in puzzlement at the nickname, Bucky glanced over at his arm.

The frown quickly disappeared, to be replaced by a long stare…and finally a smile.

"Yes." he said quietly.

Christy squealed. "It's perfect! Dad's gonna love it!"

Privately, Bruce had a feeling that Steve would be more embarrassed than anything else…but he held his tongue.

"So, I'm guessing this means you don't want another prosthetic?" Tony asked.

Bucky blinked…and then remembered.

"Maybe a…" he cupped his right palm and moved it over the arm. "A cover."

Tony nodded. "A cover for going out, to spare you from a thousand unwanted questions." He made a face. "Been there, done that, it's not as fun as it looks."

Bucky nodded furiously. "I can't be recognized."

Bruce suddenly frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Would anyone ever…come after you?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Bucky bit his lip and shook his head. "After D.C….no one. Nothing. Like I…didn't even exist."

"Probably everyone was too busy trying to save their own skins after Romanoff dumped everything on the net." Tony said, scoffing. "Cowards."

Bruce nodded. "And with you-know-who dead, well…I suspect there really was no one left to care overly much."

Christy shrugged. "Works for us!"

Tony and Bruce laughed, and even Bucky cracked a smile.

"Yeah." Tony said. "Works for us."


When Steve came out of his room after showering and changing into something besides sweats, his heart dropped into his stomach for a solid minute of panic.

"Bucky? Christy?" he called out nervously.

His eyes finally spotted the note on the kitchen counter.

In the lab. Christy's with me.

Steve breathed out a long sigh of relief. "Give me a heart attack, why don't ya, ya stupid punk." he muttered. "Now, why are you in the lab…?"

With a shrug, he grabbed a book and set off for the Common Floor. Bucky was probably just getting his arm tuned up.


"Attention, Attention! Gentlemen…and Natasha. We have an announcement to make!"

Natasha rolled her eyes as Tony, Bruce, Christy, and Bucky stepped out of the elevator onto the Common Floor.

"'We'?" Bruce said, faintly sarcastic.

Tony nodded enthusiastically. "I painted it."

Bruce just rolled his eyes.

Steve and Clint looked over from their heated game of Mario Kart. "What's goin' on?" Clint asked.

Tony beamed at Bucky. "Robocop…care to do the honors?"

Bucky cocked his head. "If…if you explain 'Robocop'." he said, his tone almost to sarcasm levels.

Steve's face split into a grin, hearing that tone.

The billionaire blinked. "Fair. I'll explain later. Now, unveil the masterpiece, if you please."

Bucky nodded, and flashed his arm out.

Natasha smirked and nodded in approval. Clint whistled and called out, "Nice one, man!"

And Steve's jaw looked like it would hit the floor.

"It's…it's your birthday present." Bucky said quietly.

Slowly, Steve walked over and traced the outline of the shield, his shield.

"Buck, I…I dunno what to say!"

I don't deserve this! I'm just a kid from Brooklyn who couldn't keep his nose out of a fight! I dragged him to the edge of the world, watched him fall to a fate worse than death…what did I ever do to deserve such loyalty?

"I…I don't deserve it!" he whispered.

Bucky frowned. Steve was supposed to be happy

"Don't you like it?" he asked. "Better than the blood star."

Steve sighed. "Yes, much better than the red star. But Bucky…do you know what this means?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Means I owe you my life. Means I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

"But you don't…"

"Yes, I do." Bucky's eyes hardened with intensity for a moment, and then softened. "Happy Birthday, punk."

And, with a move he'd practiced many times in his head, he grabbed Steve by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Steve made a noise of surprise, and then quickly returned the gesture, sighing in happy resignation. "Thanks, jerk."

Thank you, my friend…


"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday…"

Steve jerked awake to a slightly off-key rendition of the birthday song, not even sure what year it was.

And then, his eyes caught sight of Christy, standing to the side of his bed. She was holding a giant baking dish filled with…

"Is that cake?" he muttered.

Christy nodded. "I made you a birthday cake! Well, Sam helped with the icing. But I made it! And it's chocolate!"

Steve couldn't help but smile as he caught sight of Bucky and Sam, hanging back by the door and sporting ridiculous grins.

"I helped, too." Bucky protested.

"You ate batter." Sam corrected. "And frosting."

"I had to make sure it tasted right!"

"Well I'm sure it's great…" Steve started, before catching sight of the candles on said cake.

They were the giant wax number candles…and they were very clearly a '9' and a '6'.

"Hah-hah, very funny." he said.

Christy laughed hysterically.

"Well, so glad you made it this far, old-timer." Sam said, smirking.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Thanks…"


Natasha came down to the Common Floor later that day, to find Sam, Clint, Steve, Bucky, and Christy flopped in front of the TV.

On-screen, loud action music and bullet sounds poured forth.

"What are you guys watching?" she muttered, not exactly looking for an answer.

Unfortunately, two of the five people in front of her had enhanced hearing.

"It's called The A-Team." Steve replied. "It's apparently about four former army members that got convicted…"

"For a crime they didn't commit!" Clint chimed in, sounding like he was quoting something.

"And now they work like good-guy mercenaries." Sam finished.

Natasha just shook her head. "That's a TV show?" She rolled her eyes. "Amerikantsy."

Bucky's head shot up at the sound of Russian. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then, a certain gleam came into them.

"So sorry our capitalist decadence offends you, comrade." he said, his Russian so hilariously exaggerated that Natasha had to laugh.

Clint, who spoke some Russian, also snorted in laughter…as did Steve.

"You speak Russian?" Natasha asked, shocked. Steve shrugged.

"Enough to say, 'You're safe, it's okay' and 'I would kill anyone who hurt you.'"

Natasha nodded, understanding. "For his nightmares."

"Exactly."

Christy tugged at Bucky's sleeve. "What did you say?"

"You wouldn't get it, kid." Natasha cut in. As Christy started to protest, she slid down onto the floor, in the midst of the group.

"So what's happening?" she asked Clint. He smiled and started explaining in a low whisper.

"Okay, so the girl's being held prisoner by this psycho guy that wants to marry her for her money…"


It was a good birthday, Steve decided. Probably the best he'd had since he'd woken up.

His team was safe, Christy was happy, and best of all, his friend had come back to him, something he'd never dared to hope for in a million years.

Life was still hard and sad and filled with painful reminders of a past that he could never get back.

But day by day, he was learning to let his past dreams die, in order that new and better ones could occur.

He could now truly say that his life was good.

As everyone hung out on the roof of the Tower, waiting for the fireworks, Tony handed around small parcels to everyone except Christy.

"Noise-cancelling earplugs." he explained. "Don't want a repeat of last year's incident."

"It was a very loud firework." Clint mumbled. Last year's incident had been when he, Steve, Natasha and Tony had all been on the verge of trauma or battle flashbacks after a particularly ear-shattering 'boom' that resembled a machine gun blast.

"Yeah, well, this year they'll be very quiet fireworks." Tony quipped.

"Good." Bruce said, slipping his earplugs in. "I am not hulking out on Fourth of July!"

And as the blasts of color began filling up the sky, everyone was free to enjoy the sight, without the chance of any flashbacks.

Christy had her head tipped up to the sky, a rapturous smile on her face. It stayed in place until the fireworks ended. Bucky's eyes were wide as well. It had been a very long time since he'd seen fireworks.

Once the last 'boom' had sounded, everyone took the earplugs out. Tony grabbed a beer bottle and held it high.

"I propose a toast! Happy Birthday to the one and only, the living legend, your hero and mine—Captain America! Also known as Steve Rogers."

Natasha grabbed a martini glass. "I'll second that. To Cap!"

"To Cap!"

"To the best dad ever!"

Bucky smiled. "To the kid from Brooklyn."

Steve blushed as he looked down. "Thanks, you guys."

Yes, today, life was definitely good.


"Amerikantsy" means (if it wasn't obvious) "Americans" in Russian. I wanted to put Bucky's comeback in Russian, but I also wanted people to get the humor right away, so I left it in English (but 'in Russian' in the story).

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