Four months after, "the blip."
The days after the reverse snap had been similar to the first. Filled with confusion and fatigue trying to make sense of it all. The usual questions had popped up, the same ones as before. Confusions involving who, what, where, why and how. Simple questions with some of the same answers and yet no easier to explain. And still, the world began to put itself back together again. Even with everything changing there were still remains of the old-world seeping into the new. Everything had changed yet nothing stuck, all the troubles of the world came flooding back, suppose it was foolish to assume that this tragedy could instill a permanent and better change in the world, although tragedy does bring about unity. Brings out the compassion and empathy that stays buried in the hearts of humankind for too long until it's called upon. Those wanting to help where they can, help those who have missed so much get back on track for their futures.
Still, despite all that had been done the remnants of those affected by the accords were given no pardon for their involvement. As soon as the dust had settled, they all knew there wasn't much time until they needed to start running again. The Barton farm had been a perfect starting point until everyone managed to find their own way, though Wanda chose to stay, she felt most comfortable with the family. Soon after, goodbyes were made, all of them knowing full well that this wouldn't be the last time they'd see each other.
The internet had been a big help with reading up on everything that had happened in the past five years. Mostly consisting of websites, news articles, and blogs highlighting the key points from the years. The current best seller 1,825 silent days had been published a few months after the second snap. The book consisted of personal stories taken from those who survived the snap and those who had returned. It offered something that the other articles didn't, an in-depth perspective from real people on both sides of the spectrum. It had been months now since then, but slowly the world is putting itself back together again.
Bucky held onto the last image he could before his eyes awoke to the rotating ceiling fan above him. A heavy sigh of relief left his lips, no frantic breathing followed by trembling in his bones that made him feel as though he would seep into the floor, nothing but calm.
Readjusting the torso of his shirt which had twisted uncomfortably when he turned on his side. Early rays of the rising morning shown through the thin white curtains of his bedroom, he had dreamt that night, something very normal for a change. No haunting eyes etching themselves into his soul, adding the weight to his weary heart. Opening the drawer of his side dresser Barnes retrieved a blue, hardcovered notebook and a pen. Flipping through the pages until coming upon where he had last felt off.
Marking the date Barnes then began to write.
He's by no means a talented writer, but that wasn't the point, it isn't the point of the journals. They were a means of venting, something tangible and personal that is all his own. He captured every detail down, preserving it with ink to paper for his eyes only. Once done he began side notes, thoughts and personal notes for himself, often referring back to things he'd want to look into later.
Brooklyn, human, howling, unbound, soldier, victor, blue, important, kind.
Words that often helped him forget the ones that had caused him so much pain. Words that his doctors had encouraged him to list and recite whenever his fears and anxieties would get the better of him. Words that bring back memories that help to bring him out of his ballistic state of mind.
Breathing in, thinking of the simplest of things he had experienced throughout the day. Sights, sound and smells triggered the fondest or painful memories, whatever it may be, Buck was sure to write it down in a now growing series of notebooks filled with scattered and lengthy passages. The books started out with consisting of manly fractured thoughts and memories, followed by descriptions of horrific nightmares, depicting faces of people along with the tone of their screams that still echoed in his head after he woke. He'd then spend hours scribbling down all he could remember before it would disappear. describing it all out on paper helped to work out the feelings behind it all. Now they hold records of more of the good than the bad.
Running his vibranium fingers through his long hair Buck noticed that he was close to finishing the journal he'd need a new one soon, he'd be sure to ask the next time they'd go to town.
A gentle knock at his door pulled Bucky out of his deep thinking. "Yeah?"
The bedroom door creaked opened only a few feet before revealing the head of Barnes's housemate. "Hey, you doing ok?" Sam must have heard him moving around in his room and wondered why he hadn't come out to the kitchen for breakfast. Honestly sleeping in hadn't been something either did very often, Barnes had to admit how much he had missed it. No cryo followed by no violent awakens, intense delirium, and nauseating headaches. He shuttered when thinking about it all, how out of his own body he had felt, no control or direction of humanity, just a tool.
The solider set down the journal he had been writing in giving Sam a soft smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting some stuff down."
"Bad dreams?" Sam asked motioning to the notebook. Concern that Barnes had been without for too long, but was grateful for from Sam. Buck shook his head, flipping through the filled pages of the journal, the sound very pleasant to the ears. The light breeze brushing against his face.
"No, just writing." Barnes smiled when Tanzie brushed past Sam's legs to meet Bucky's eyes. The German Shepard didn't know that both men were fighting a silent war to be her favorite human.
Neither Sam or Bucky could properly explain why they chose to stick together. Their history had been less than trusting, often narrowed glances followed by sly remarks were just a few reasons to prove that. But there had been small moments of empathy and comradery, those small moments were rare but well appreciated over the years.
But it had been Sam who had single-handedly convinced Bucky to attend Tony's funeral. Barnes had made the claim that he hadn't deserved to pay his respects to such a great man. The soldier had held no grudge against Stark even after his attempts to kill him in Siberia, in Barnes's eyes he had already caused the man enough pain. But Wilson had convinced him overwise and so there he stood with the others. That pull of regret would always haunt him, that he would never have the chance to try and make amends, couldn't say how incredibly sorry he was and will continue to be for taking the lives of Howard and Maria Stark. But, just by being present there by that lake to say farewell felt more than right, to better help Barnes make some form of peace within himself.
Both Bucky and Sam knew that they stood a better chance of tackling their situation if they stayed together, neither wanted to be alone. They have to navigate together and rely on someone other than themselves.
"You want coffee?"
Barnes's eyes lit up to his housemates' question which indicated an immediate answer. "That sounds amazing." Getting back up to his feet Buck follows Sam into the kitchen with Tanzie close behind.
(Will post more soon)