Ch. 18
After the episode he had after meeting Tony, Bucky's nightmares came back in full force. The pills his therapist gave him seemed to have little effect. Every night was filled with repeated appearances of The Winter Soldier, either forcing Bucky to relive a past assassination or creating a new horror, some sick and sadistic dream filled with blood and terror.
Every morning, both women would fuss over him, seeing that he had clearly not slept the night before. Stacy urged him to sleep in, but the truth was, seeing the both of them in the morning, having breakfast together, was one of the only bright spots in his day and he wouldn't give that up for anything. So, he'd smile through breakfast, shooing them off to work while he did the dishes and then crash back to bed once they left, praying for a peaceful sleep.
When his Tuesday appointment came around, he begged the doc to give him more pills, but she refused, stating that he was already at the maximum dosage for the medicine she gave him every week. He gritted his teeth and nodded, suffering through an excruciating hour with her as he recounted the twisted memories that kept resurfacing, threatening to drag him under, making him feel like everything was unraveling.
"I just want to get better!" he shouted, jumping up from the chaise lounge, having one of his rare outbursts near the end of their session.
He looked at the doctor and saw her body go rigid, every muscle primed for action. He knew that there was a panic button on the floor nearby, something that would send a phalanx of armed soldiers into the room to try to subdue him. He felt ashamed that he had scared her. He was usually so very careful not to to seem aggressive around her, knowing how strong he was, never wanting to give S.H.I.E.L.D. an excuse to lock him up again.
"Sorry. I didn't me to frighten you," he muttered, sinking back down to sit on the chaise lounge, scratching the back of his neck.
She nodded, giving him a practiced, professional smile. "This is what getting better looks like," the therapist said reasonably. "Everyone thinks recovery is this straight line of steady improvement. It isn't. It's messy. It's frustrating. There are relapses. That's a normal part of the process. You are getting better, Sergeant Barnes. Don't you see that? You've been able to form bonds with people. That's something that you were incapable of when I first met with you. You seem to be creating a solid support system not only with your friend, Captain Rogers, but with his wife and her friend, Ms. Marín. You are reaching out to others, spending time with both Agent Wilson and Dr. Banner. You've begun volunteering at that retirement center, focusing your time and efforts on helping others. You are no longer solely focused on yourself and your past. All those things are excellent signs of progress."
"I . . . I know. I just hate that it's taking so long," he said.
"You were a P.O.W., Sergeant Barnes. You were tortured and brainwashed by Hydra for years, decades really. You can't expect that all to go away in a few months," she pointed out.
"Will it ever?" he asked in a small voice.
"Go away completely? No," she said, shaking her head. "All of our experiences mark us, mold us. But we can work to mitigate what they did to you. You know . . . I am proud of all the hard work you've done so far. You are improving. To tell you the truth, you are one of the most stubborn patients I've ever had and that quality will serve you well as you continue to improve," she said with a smile.
"Thanks, doc," Bucky said, not bothering to hide his own smile.
"Now, let's focus on the upcoming week. Captain Rogers will be returning from his assignment sometime soon, is that correct?" she asked.
"Yep," Bucky said, his grin widening. At least he had something to look forward to.
00000
Steve was due back the night before Easter. The Friday night before he was to return had been dreamless for Bucky, a welcome respite from the past week. Bucky was keyed up that Saturday, excited to be seeing his friend again. He paced around the apartment that whole morning, feeling a bit like a kid before Christmas. Monica noticed his impatience.
"Hey, do you want another haircut? You're looking a little shaggy," she pointed out.
Bucky's hand went to the back of his neck and his lip curled in disgust as he felt how long his hair had gotten. He supposed that he could have asked her to cut it weeks ago, but the truth was he felt a bit self-conscious about asking for the favor. He realized that he depended so much on both Stacy and Monica and he hated asking for more.
"Sure. That'd be great. Thanks," he said, giving her a smile.
"Grab a kitchen chair and a towel and I'll get the clippers from Stacy's bathroom."
"Oh, I don't want you to bother her," he said. Stacy was in her room, taking a nap. She had yet another nightmare the night before and she had tossed and turned the rest of the night. She had been bleary-eyed and grouchy during breakfast and quickly returned back to her bedroom to sleep some more. Bucky had recognized the signs of what she was going through and wished that there was something he could do to make her feel better.
"Don't worry. I'll sneak in," she said with a wink.
"Okay," Bucky said and busied himself with setting up the chair in the bathroom, facing the mirror and getting the towel wrapped around his neck.
"Mission accomplished. She didn't even wake up," Monica said, returning with the clippers. "Can I see your phone? I want to see one of your old photos to remind me of how your hair used to look."
"Alright," Bucky said, standing up to fish his phone out of his pocket and handing it to her before sitting back down.
She was standing behind him and leaned over, mere inches from him, scrolling through the pictures. "That one. That's a good one. Like that?" she asked, pointing to a photo he had taken the night before shipping out.
"Yeah, sure," he said, memories of that night swarming back to him. The World Exposition of Tomorrow. Seeing Howard Stark for the first time showing off the possibility of a flying car. Steve sneaking off to try to enlist yet again.
"She's pretty," Monica observed, pointing to the girl next to him in the photo. Bucky had his arm slung around the petite woman, a wide grin on his face.
"Yeah . . . her name was . . . . Connie. Steve and I had a double date with her and her friend the night before I got sent to England. Didn't work out so hot for Steve," Bucky said, shaking his head.
"And for you?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Bucky looked up at her reflection in the mirror. "Well, . . . I always did have a weakness for gorgeous brunettes," he said rakishly, waggling his eyebrows for comic effect, earning a soft laugh from her.
Monica combed his hair and started up the clippers. "Steve said that you were quite the ladies' man back in the day."
"Well . . . I don't know if I'd say that," he said dismissively. "Let's just say . . . I was social." Memories of happier times caused him to smile. That life felt like a million years ago. There was a time when there seemed to be an endless supply of women, sweet and affectionate, flattered by his attentions.
"And now?" she asked.
"And now what?" he replied, a bit confused.
"Well, you're hardly going to meet someone while you're cooped up in this apartment," she said, peering at the back of his head, using the comb to check that the sides were even.
"Yeah . . . . I don't think I'm the best dating prospect at the moment. 'Have you met my friend, Bucky? He's a great catch. He's an unemployed ex-assassin who has a slew of mental health issues and is monitored constantly by an intelligence agency', " he said in a sarcastic voice. "You're right, Monica. I'll have women throwing themselves at me."
Monica put down the clippers and moved to stand in front of him. "Is that really how you see yourself?"
"Tell me it isn't true," he ground out, clenching his jaw.
"Well, okay. You're right. But, that's not all you are. You're kind and brave and generous and you're always thinking of other people. Not to mention handsome and sweet and thoughtful. You are a great catch. Any woman would be lucky to snag you," she said firmly, staring him in the eyes.
Bucky shifted uncomfortably under her direct gaze. "Gee, Monica, I should hire you as my publicist."
Monica smiled, patting his shoulder as she returned to her spot behind him. "Don't worry. Once you're up to dating, I'll create the best online profile ever for you. You'll have women flocking to you. You'll have a chance to be 'social' again."
Bucky nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She was ruffling the top of his hair, deciding on the proper length and he couldn't concentrate with her being so close. The first time she had cut his hair, she was just a beautiful stranger and he reacted because he hadn't been alone with a women in decades. But now, she was Monica. She was a friend, a confidante.
However, he was still having a hard time breathing when she stood so close, when he felt her fingers caressing his neck, lightly brushing any stray hairs. He didn't want to breathe, closing his eyes, not wanting the moment to end.
"Good as new," she said, patting his shoulder. "You're going to look great for church tomorrow. I can't wait for you to see everyone again. You are coming to Easter service, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"Uh . . .," he began. The truth was, he hadn't been planning on going. He'd assumed he'd just wait at home for them to return. But, one look on her face cemented his decision. "Sure." Then, he thought for a moment. "I don't have a suit."
"Oh, don't worry. Most guys just wear khakis and a button-down shirt for Easter. A lot of people just wear jeans on a normal Sunday. It's a pretty casual church. Mostly young people," she assured him.
"Still, it wouldn't feel right," Bucky said. For Bucky, wearing your "Sunday best" had been a big deal growing up. He couldn't imagine showing up to an Easter service in casual clothes. It made him feel uncomfortable.
"Fine, we'll go clothes shopping. There's a mall nearby. You need some new clothes anyways for spring. Some short sleeve shirts. It'll be fun."
Bucky winced. Going clothes shopping definitely didn't enter into his notion of the word fun.
000000
Clothes shopping was exactly as awful as Bucky thought it would be. Acting as a human mannequin for Monica and trying on outfit after outfit was beyond tedious and boring. However, he did enjoy her enthusiasm and delight at each new clothing choice. He ended up buying several shirts and pairs of pants, including a suit to wear the next day.
He was proud of himself for going, forcing himself to get out of the apartment. They made it through the short subway ride without incident and Bucky had felt calm and relaxed during their journey. He decided it was a good "dry run" for the next day's church service.
Monica insisted that he wear one of his new outfits out of the store, a soft gray T-shirt over faded jeans, and asked for his phone once they were in the main part of the mall and walking towards the food court.
"Why?" he asked suspiciously, handing over his phone.
"I'm going to take a photo of you. You look so hot. You can always use it for your online profile . . . when you're up for it," Monica said mischievously.
"Monica . . . " he said with a pained expression, but dutifully smiled, his hands shoved in his jean pockets, as she snapped the picture.
As they looked at how the photo came out, a woman approached them. "Would you like me to take a photo of the both of you?" she asked with a friendly smile. She was pushing a double stroller holding a tiny infant and a young boy, both fast asleep.
"Thank you, ma'am. We'd appreciate it," Bucky said, handing over his phone and standing next to Monica.
"Okay, um . . . stand a bit closer together, arm around her . . . yeah . . . there you go. Hold on. I'll take a few of them," the woman instructed.
"Thanks," Monica said when they had finished.
"Oh, to be young and in love. I remember those days. You guys make such a cute couple," the woman observed, handing the phone back to Bucky.
"Oh, we're not a . . .," Monica began.
"Thank you, ma'am," Bucky interrupted. "We appreciate it. You have yourself a great day."
"You, too," the woman smiled and began pushing the stroller again.
Once the woman was out of earshot, Monica turned to Bucky. "I don't why she thought that."
Bucky shrugged his shoulders, but couldn't hide his smile. "I haven't the faintest idea, either." After a beat, he continued. "How about we grab a cup of joe? My treat. You deserve it after all your hard work."
"Sounds good," she said as they began to walk again, side by side. "The clothes weren't too expensive for you, were they? Inflation must have hit you hard. Steve complains about it all the time. And I do mean all the time," she said with a grin.
"Yes and no. Clothes actually aren't so bad. I mean, back in the 40s, clothes were kind of expensive and most people only had enough to get them through the week. Plus, with rationing, there just weren't as many options. The price of clothes is only about six or seven times what it used to be. It's coffee that's gone up a lot. Used a be a nickel. Now it's easily fifty times that," he groused.
"Oh. Well, you don't have to treat me. I could buy the coffee," Monica offered as they neared the coffee shop at the food court.
"No. No. Sorry. That was rude of me. Sorry. I'll get the coffees. I insist. Why don't you get us a table and I'll go up and order for us? What would you like?" The seating area near the coffee shop was crowded with only a few open tables left.
"Alright. A small cafe latte," she said.
"Anything to eat? I know I'm going to get something," Bucky said. He could feel his stomach growling and the display case full of pastries looked tempting.
"Uh . . . a blueberry scone?"
"Sounds good," he said as he turned to walk towards the cash register.
He waited a few minutes in line and ordered, leaving a huge tip in the clear jar at the cash register. The baristas were quick and efficient and before long, Bucky was balancing a tray of hot drinks and a bag of full of baked goodies as he turned and scanning the crowd for where Monica was. He spotted her at a small table at the edge of the food court. There was a handsome dark-haired man in his thirties standing next to where she was seated, smiling down at her and talking animatedly.
An unfamiliar wave of jealousy hit Bucky as he approached them. He felt off balance from his strong reaction to the man's presence. He strode over to them a bit quicker than was strictly necessary, a tight smile on his face.
"Hello," Bucky said gruffly as he sat the drinks and pastries down in front of Monica.
"Hey, Bucky. Thank you so much. I want you to meet Mr. Ramos. His daughter, Jessica, is in my class and she's an absolute treasure," Monica said brightly.
"You are too kind," Mr. Ramos said, holding out his hand for Bucky to shake.
The tension melted from Bucky's body. He shook the man's hand, a genuine smile on his face now. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
"Same here," Mr. Ramos said. "My daughter is so lucky to have Ms. Marín as a teacher. She loves school now. She talks about her all the time. She adores her."
Bucky looked at Monica who was beaming and blushing a bit. Knowing how kind and enthusiastic she was, he could easily imagine how much her students must like her class. "Well, I know how much Monica enjoys teaching."
"I should get going. I'll have to tell Jessica I saw you. You have a good day," Mr. Ramos said, nodding and smiling to the both of them before leaving.
"He seems nice," Bucky observed as he took the seat across from Monica.
"Yeah. I've been lucky. I've had really good parents this year. Unfortunately, . . . " and her face fell as her voice trailed off.
"What?" Bucky asked.
"We've had yet another family tell us that they're not coming back to the school in the fall. If we lose one more . . .," she gritted her teeth and shook her head.
"Hey, I'm sure it'll all work out in the end," Bucky said, his hand covering hers, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go and picking up his coffee cup.
"What? Is that optimism I hear? From you? We need to take you clothes shopping more often," she smirked.
Bucky shuddered as he took a sip of his black coffee. "No. Anything but that."
Author's Note- I have a question for my readers of "The Captain's Bride". Another reader pointed out that it's hard to come up with a "ship name" for Steve and Stacy since their names begin with the same letters. My best attempt has been "KindergartenShield", but I'm not so crazy about that one. Do you guys have any ideas? Let me know in a review.
