Ch. 20
Bucky was quiet on the ride to the restaurant after church, his mind focused on the message he heard. He was surprised at how good it felt to be out of the apartment and he looked out of the car window, a slight smile playing on his lips. While it was still cool out, probably in the low 50s, it was still one of the warmest days since he had come back to New York. The snow was gone and blue sky only held a few fluffy clouds, no sign of rain in sight. It really did feel like the beginning of spring.
They arrived in about twenty minutes and Luigi's turned out to be a much busier restaurant than Bucky had imagined. They were open for Easter brunch and the waiting area was crammed full of people, some of them spilling out onto the sidewalk, chatting in small groups or staring in rapt attention to their phones.
Once inside, Steve went up to the front and asked to talk to the manager. Moments later, their entire group was ushered to a private back room while the lobby full of waiting customers glared at them. Steve flashed them an apologetic smile as he passed them by.
A contingent of busboys were busily setting up a table to accommodate the group of seven in the large private room. White linen tablecloths and burgundy napkins, all artfully arranged, soon covered the table. The place settings were more elaborate than anything that he had seen before and it took Bucky a moment to remember the differences between the various forks nestled side by side. Waiters handed each person in their group a leather-bound menu written in swirling script with overwrought descriptions of each dish.
"What? Is the manager a fan? Is that how we bypassed the wait?" Bucky asked good-naturedly as he took a seat next to Steve. He followed Steve's lead with Stacy and he made sure to pull out a seat for Monica on his other side, earning him a quick grin of thanks from her.
"No. That's not it. I texted him before the service started. I had his number since we had our wedding reception here. And . . . um . . . since Tony owns the restaurant . . ." Steve began.
"Oh, yeah," Bucky said quietly. "I forgot." He busied himself at looking at the specially printed menu for the holiday, wincing at the prices. He quickly tallied how much it would cost for Steve to cover the seven of them plus tip and he blanched. It was more than six months wages back in the forties.
"Hey," Bucky leaned over to whisper to Steve. "I can split the bill with you."
Steve shook his head. "Naw. I got it covered," Steve assured him.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Alright," Bucky said, shrugging his shoulders.
"So, how're things going at the shelter?" Monica asked Josh, who was seated across from them.
Josh gave her a wan smile. "Alright. I mean, it's a rough time of year. People are really generous around Thanksgiving and Christmas and then the donations start drying up," Josh said, wrinkling his nose.
"Shelter?" Bucky asked.
"Yeah, I volunteer Thursday evenings at a homeless shelter. Things were tough for me and my family when I was younger, so I try to give back, now that I can," Josh said modestly.
Bucky's eyes narrowed at Josh, reevaluating him. He felt guilty over his previous brusque treatment of him. The more he looked at Josh, the more he reminded Bucky of a young Steve. "That's great."
Josh shrugged, "Um, Monica mentioned that um . . . that you hit a rough patch, a while back."
Bucky pressed his lips together, his months living on the streets an unwelcome memory, one that he had tried to forget. "Yeah. I was homeless for about six months."
"Then, maybe you can help me," Josh suggested excitedly.
"How so?"
"Well, I was able to finally convince my boss to make a donation to the shelter. We're trying to find some practical things we can buy. Do you have any suggestions?"
Bucky thought for a moment. "Well, right off the top of my head . . . warm socks. I know it seems trivial, but I would have done anything for a good pair of socks some nights."
"Wow. I wouldn't have thought of that. Thanks," Josh said.
The waiter came by to take their drink orders. Bucky asked for a black coffee with plenty of sugar. Once the waiter had finished with the table, both Michael and Erica stood up together, his arm around her shoulder.
"So, speaking of renewal and new life, we have an announcement to make," Michael said.
"Oh, my," Stacy said, clapping her hands together.
"We're going to have a baby," Erica said excitedly.
"Yes! When are you due?" Monica asked.
"The first week of October," Erica said. "We can't wait."
"Is it a boy or girl?" Josh asked.
"Um . . . we don't know yet. We should find out at the end of this month," Erica explained.
"Well, congratulations!" Steve said heartily. "That's great news!"
"Yeah, congratulations," Bucky said, smiling at the beaming couple. He didn't really know them, but they seemed like a sweet, loving couple and he was happy for them.
"Good for you, starting a family. That's great," Steve said, nodding his head, his lips pressed together in a smile.
But, Bucky saw Steve's eyes slide over to Stacy. He heard Steve's low sigh. He knew that Steve's happiness for his friends was tempered by sadness.
Bucky bit the inside of his lower lip. If Steve hadn't wasted months tracking him down, if he hadn't have invited Bucky into his home, he might be a father right now. Steve was putting his life on hold because of him. And the guilt of it weighed on Bucky.
"Oh, that's wonderful news," Stacy added, a genuine smile on her face. "And you already have a built-in group of babysitters."
"We're counting on it," Michael said.
"Babysitters?" Bucky asked, a bit confused.
"Didn't Steve tell you? One of his first dates with Stacy was a babysitting gig with all of us," Erica said.
"It wasn't really a date," Stacy explained, looking down and laying her napkin on her lap. "We were just starting to become friends at that point."
"Although he did kick in extra for hot wings," Josh added.
"If I remember the story correctly, Steve jumped at a chance to babysit if it meant being with Stacy," Monica teased lightly.
Steve blushed. "Do you blame me?"
"You babysitting?" Bucky said and began to laugh.
"Like I said, can you blame me? A beautiful woman asks you to babysit, I bet you'd say yes," Steve countered, nudging with his shoulder.
Bucky's eyes flicked to Monica. "I can see your point."
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Both women were overjoyed about Erica and Michael's announcement and talked of nothing else the entire ride back to the apartment. Bucky was silent. He didn't really know anything about babies or starting a family, but he was glad that both Stacy and Monica were so excited for their friends. He noticed that Steve was quiet during the ride also, only speaking when Stacy asked him a direct question.
They all rode up the elevator together and then went to their own rooms to change out of their church clothes. Bucky carefully hung up his suit, glad that he had decided to go with them. He imagined just sitting alone in the apartment all morning and shuddered slightly.
Bucky changed into some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and went to the living room, smiling at Steve when he saw him sitting on the easy chair, thumbing through a newspaper.
"That's great news. About your friends," Bucky said.
Steve nodded, putting down the paper. "Yeah, Michael is going to make a great father."
"You will, too," Bucky assured him.
"Oh . . . yeah, sure. I mean . . . later on. We haven't even been married a year," Steve said. But Bucky could smell the lie in what Steve was saying. He wanted to push, but he didn't know what to say.
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Eventually, Stacy and Monica joined them once they had gotten changed. "Um . . . I was thinking that Monica and I might go shopping. We wanted to get something for Erica and Michael to celebrate their announcement. And it'll give you guys a chance to catch up," Stacy said.
"You sure?" Steve asked.
"Unless you'd like to spend the next several hours shopping," Stacy teased, walking over to him, bending down and placing a sweet kiss on Steve's cheek.
Steve shuddered and shook his head, while placing an arm around her waist as she stood by his seat. "No . . . not at all."
"Is anything even open? It's Easter Sunday," Bucky asked.
"We're inventive. We'll find a place," Monica assured him.
"We'll be back for dinner. We're having ham, scalloped potatoes, and fresh green beans," Stacy said.
"Oh . . . I think I may have fallen in love with you all over again," Steve said.
"See, I knew you only loved me for my cooking," Stacy said, sticking out her tongue at him.
"Oh, I fell in love with a lot more than that," Steve nearly growled and lightening quick, he pulled her onto his lap and gave her a kiss so passionate that Bucky and Monica both looked away in embarrassment.
"Okay . . . . we get it. You're in love. Let's go shopping, Stacy," Monica whined.
Steve and Stacy ended their kiss and Stacy scrambled to stand up, blushing furiously. "To be continued," she told Steve with a coquettish wink.
"You better believe it," he shot back as she and Monica walked out the door. He looked over at Bucky. "Well, looks like we've got the place to ourselves."
"Alright."
"Um . . . I, well actually Stacy and I, got you something," Steve said. He got up from the chair and went back to his room, emerging with a large rectangular white garment box tied with a red bow.
"Uh . . . Stacy bought it," Steve said as he handed it over to Bucky.
Bucky untied the bow and opened the box, squinting a bit at the black leather inside. He lifted up the garment. "A jacket?" he asked. It vaguely reminded him of part of his Winter Soldier outfit.
"A motorcycle jacket. And these," Steve said, giving him a set of keys.
"You're letting me borrow your motorcycle?" he asked.
"No. I'm giving it to you. The subway's fine, but it's nice to have your own ride."
"No . . . I can't," Bucky said, holding out the keys for Steve.
Steve shook his head. "It's not like I use it anymore. And, I'm spending all my time on assignment nowadays. The weather's finally nice enough to actually ride it. It'd be a shame to have it just rust away in the garage."
"Well, thanks, Steve."
"And there are two helmets. In case you ever need to give someone a ride," Steve added.
Bucky shrugged. "Don't think I'll have to worry about that."
Steve gave him a smile. "You never know. I didn't even own a helmet until Stacy gave me a hard time about it."
"That sounds like her," Bucky said and he placed the leather jacket carefully on the couch, slipping the keys into the front pocket of his jeans before sitting down. "You want to watch some T.V.? I recorded the last game for you."
"Yay, that'd be great. You know, there's a game on Tuesday night, you want to go?" Steve asked, taking a seat back in the easy chair.
Bucky nodded. He avoided using their season tickets while Steve was gone. He felt bad having them going to waste, but he couldn't face the idea of going without Steve and dealing with a bunch of people in yet another uncomfortable social situation. Watching baseball with Steve had been one of the highlights of their friendship growing up and he couldn't imagine going without him.
"Good. We should take advantage of the tickets while I'm still in town," Steve said.
"Hey, so do you think that you'll be able to stay for a while now?" Bucky asked tentatively.
Steve sighed. "I'd like to lie . . . but I'm going to be out again on assignment in a week or so. And this time I'll probably be gone through May, maybe part of June, too."
"That long?" Bucky asked, the defeat in his voice.
"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry. I just can't offload all of this onto someone else. It's my fault that S.H.I.E.L.D. is in the state it's in. To be honest, we're struggling, barely making a dent against the remaining Hydra resistance. We just need more agents. We are so out-numbered. But, I don't like being gone, either. I wish somehow . . . I guess I miss the old days," Steve said with a sad smile.
Bucky nodded, knowing what he meant. Back when they both fought, side by side, to take down Hydra together. Only now, Bucky couldn't imagine being about to go on a mission without ending up a basket-case. He'd be more a liability than a help.
Steve gave him a hopeful grin. "Good thing is, Tony told me he'd start helping out with the missions. Which is good, it means hopefully I won't be on as many long assignments. I'm glad he changed his mind."
"Changed his mind?"
"Oh, I think he was sore at me for a while," Steve said offhandedly.
"Sore at you? Why?"
Steve blew out a long breath, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, look at it from his perspective. He and I become good friends. He gives us this apartment. He's the best man at my wedding. And then, I don't call him when things get bad in D.C. I take off trying to find you for six months. I come back with you and I avoid him."
Bucky shook his head. "So, he's what? Jealous?"
"No, more like hurt. Look, he and Rhodey are thick as thieves back in California. It's not like he begrudges the fact that I'm helping you out or that you're staying with us. But, he's only seen me a handful of times in the last four months."
Realization dawned on Bucky. "And you're avoiding him because of what I did to his parents?"
Steve gave him a sheepish look. "You know me, Bucky. I'm a lousy liar."
"You could just . . . you could just tell him . . . about what I did," Bucky offered. His stomach twisted in knots at the thought of Tony knowing what he had done.
Steve shook his head. "I . . . I don't know how he'd react. I know it wasn't you. I know it was all on Hydra. But Tony . . ."
"You think he'd blame me."
Steve shrugged his shoulders. "I . . .I don't know. I don't want to risk it. Tony . . . he's not the most rational or logical person I've ever met."
"I could see that. His father was the same way," Bucky said wryly.
"So, I've been meaning to ask you; how'd you like the service?" Steve said, obviously trying to change the subject. "It's a little different that what we were used to growing up."
"It was good. I told Monica I'd go with them from now on," Bucky said. Then, he took a deep breath, staring at Steve. "Do you really believe any of that stuff anymore? After all that's happened?"
Steve gave him a broad smile. "I do, with my whole heart."
"All that stuff about redemption for even people who are really broken, people who've done awful things?" Bucky thought about the possibility of turning back the clock, of somehow becoming the man he was before. It seemed like an impossible dream at times.
Steve paused and looked at Bucky, clearly knowing why he asked that question. "Yes."
"No matter . . . no matter what they've done?" Bucky asked, rubbing his hands together, the anxiety coming off of him in waves.
"Yes", Steve repeated firmly, his jaw set.
"But . . .," Bucky's voice faltered, "what if what they've done is unforgivable?" He took a shaky breath. "What if what I've done is unforgivable?"
"It isn't . . . Bucky, it's not like you had a choice."
Bucky held up a hand to silence his friend. "But, I still did it. What good does it do to want forgiveness . . . to ask for forgiveness when what you've done is so horrible? Sometimes, I wake up and the blood is still on my hands. It's still there. I can see it. I can feel it. I can even smell it. And I wash and I wash and I'll never be clean," Bucky confessed, closing his eyes.
Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, giving it a squeeze."You know that isn't true. Don't take this on yourself."
"Sometimes, I wonder . . . I wasn't the only person they tried to formula on. The rest of them . . . the other test subjects . . . didn't make it. You know, I wonder why it worked on me and not on them. Why didn't I die, Steve? Then, the Winter Soldier never would have existed. Howard would have still been alive. Tony would have grown up knowing his father."
"Bucky, you can't think that way," Steve said sharply.
"But, I do. A lot," Bucky admitted.
"Hydra just would have sent someone else. It's not your fault, Bucky. You were just the weapon they used."
Bucky nodded. "You're right. I was their weapon. You know, sometimes I think that maybe Hydra chose me to be their assassin because it was already a part of me. The darkness. Lurking inside. Waiting to be let out. Waiting to be freed. Biding its time before it destroyed everything around me. Maybe The Winter Soldier is just who I really am, let loose on the world. It's not like the first time I killed was for them. I was a sniper long before they got ahold of me," Bucky said, his voice filled with shame as he looked down.
"Look, Bucky, we've both had to fight to protect people. We both have blood on our hands. I've probably killed as many people as you have. But, is that how you see me? As a killer?"
"No!" Bucky practically shouted as his head reared up. "No, not at all!"
"Then, don't paint yourself with the same brush. We did what we had to do to save people. Fighting Hydra saved millions of lives. That's why I'm still in S.H.I.E.L.D. Trying to look out for the little guy. Because I remember what it was like being one. Being pushed around. Bullied. And you were always there to look out for me. You were always there to protect me. Stop selling yourself short, Bucky. Stop beating yourself up for things that aren't your fault," Steve said.
Bucky sighed. "I wish it were that easy."
"I know it isn't easy. But you can do it," Steve said.
"Are you going to tell me that you have faith in me again?" Bucky asked wryly. He hated to admit it, but Steve's faith in him was one of the reasons he kept fighting to get better.
Steve grinned. "I'll do it until you start believing me."
Author's Note- Over 500 reviews! 500! Thank you so very, very much for all of the lovely reviews and warm wishes for my anniversary! You are all so wonderful!
