Audio copy: You can listen to this story on my podcast: There Are Three of Me. It is read in Ep64 S4E11. You can find There Are Three of Me on Spotify, Google Podcasts, and .

Marvel Cinematic Universe
Amends
By Gabrielle Lawson

Sam handed Bucky his new phone. It was a compromise. It was a smartphone but it was also a flip phone. Bucky had argued that smartphones were too much, not meaning the price, although they were very expensive. Sam had reminded him that he didn't have to put four hundred apps on it and that his nephews had been making fun of his old phone.

They'd gotten sandwiches for lunch and ate them in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Bucky liked the park because he was close to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was almost exactly as he remembered it. The traffic on it was different, sure, but the granite and cables were still the same. So much of the city, and his old neighborhood, had changed a lot and not always for the better, in Bucky's opinion.

Sam also installed 'a few' 'useful apps' on the phone. One was something that played customizable white noise. He said it might help Bucky sleep. Sleep was something Bucky didn't look forward to again. The nightmares hadn't stopped entirely when he'd crossed the last name off his list. The last name he could cross off. Tony Stark was one name he couldn't even write there. His sacrifice in the second fight against Thanos had saved the world, and robbed Bucky forever of the chance to make amends.

Still, he had had less nightmares. Some nights, especially when he stayed over with Sam, Sarah and the kids, he'd even had pleasant, nonsensical dreams that he could barely remember in the morning. But ever since the 'middle pieces' of his memory had come to him, he'd found his slumbering mind drifting back to those early days of his captivity or the long fall from the train.

Sam booked the flights on his smartphone. They were leaving at 5:50PM, getting in at 8:15PM in New Orleans. They'd get into Delaquoix around nine. Bucky liked that they still had a little time to be in the city. He wanted to remember New York. But once he left, he wasn't sure he wanted to come back. Sam was right. And so was Dr. Raynor. Alone was harder. He'd gotten stuck in negative thoughts and isolating himself. He needed someone, and Sam was a good someone.

Sam was kind and he was wise. He didn't sugarcoat the truth or talk in platitudes. And maybe his connection to Steve helped, too. Steve had trusted Sam, so Bucky felt he should trust Sam, too.

God, he missed Steve. Somehow the 'end of the line' had left them in different places. But he told himself that he was happy for Steve. He'd gotten the happily-ever-after with Peggy he'd missed in '45. Steve had only ever loved Peggy. No one else could measure up.

Bucky, himself, had never been in love. Oh, he'd had girls, gone on dates. That hadn't been an issue until he'd shipped off to war. Then Steve and he had had a sort of role-reversal. Steve was irresistible and Bucky was lost in his shadow where girls were concerned. He'd managed to go dancing with some girls in London on R & R. But then he'd be right back in the fight. And, of course, once he fell from the train.…

And now he had so much baggage. He'd be far older than any woman he might meet. And if they asked too many questions about his past, he'd have to lie. It was easier flirting with Sarah. She knew he was a hundred and six but smiled anyway. And Sam had told him that she knew the basic outline of his past. And still she smiled.

Anyway, he couldn't have gone back with Steve. It would have telegraphed what Steve was planning. Besides, everything that had happened, everything he'd done would have gone back with him. He would still have all the baggage, and he'd have been a third wheel between Steve and Peggy.

He supposed in some ways, his times in the freezer had actually made it easier for him than Steve. Steve had been in the ice solid for the better part of seventy years. Everything was new and different when he came out. At least when Bucky was thawed out for a mission, he was trained in the new technology he'd need, whether in vehicles and aircraft, or weapons and electronics. He'd gotten to keep up with the times to a limited extent.

A very limited extent, he mused as he scrolled through the twenty or so apps on his new phone. Phones used to be fairly cheap and stuck on a wall. They had dial wheels and voicemail was a piece of note paper and a pen.

His phone dinged and a message popped up on the screen, stayed for a minute or so then left. He'd dealt with text messages before. He found the Messages app and clicked on the message. Instantly, his muscles tightened around his neck and his right shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Sgt Barnes. Your presence is requested at the Marriott Marquis at 2pm. A car will be waiting at the corner of Furman and Doughty streets in ten minutes. P Stark."

"What is it?" Sam asked. He had his concerned face on. "You just got whiter."

Bucky turned the screen so Sam could read it.

"And?"

Bucky sighed. "The last time we saw each other—with the exception of fighting Thanos—Tony wanted to kill me. Because I murdered his parents." He snapped the phone closed and put it in a pocket of his jacket.

"Okay," Sam said. "That's not Tony. It's Pepper."

Bucky tried hard not to roll his eyes. "So you don't think he told his wife that I killed their daughter's grandparents?"

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure they talked. But I also know that Steve had his shield in that fight. That meant Tony gave it back to him. They buried their animosity. I'm sure they talked about that, too."

Bucky shook his head. "Steve didn't kill his parents."

Sam stood and offered Bucky a hand up. "It's been seven years since Siberia for them. I'm sure he eventually calmed down. And she was never as hot-headed as Tony anyway. Let's go meet that car. It's your city, lead the way."

"You're coming?" Bucky tried to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Did he want Sam to witness her coming down on him?

"Well, yeah," Sam replied, smiling. "I'm not just going to stay here waitin' for you to get back. Besides, I told you. You're not alone this time."

Bucky felt a little of the tension in his shoulder loosen. He nodded and started walking. Furman and Doughty weren't far since they were in Pier 1. The intersection was just across from the parking lot.

The limousine parked on the corner looked out of place in this part of town. The driver was outside, leaning on his door. He stood up when he saw them and moved to the back and opened up the door there. "Gentlemen."

Sam leaned close and whispered, "Don't think she'd send a limo if she wanted to kill you."

He had a point. But Bucky didn't really worry she'd try to kill him. Something short of that though, sure. He slid into the seat then moved over so Sam could get in. The seats were made of softened leather. Sam moved to the other seat which stretched the length of the cabin and faced a cocktail bar on the other side.

The driver's voice came over the speakers. "Feel free to pour yourselves some refreshments."

"Don't mind if I do," Sam said as he reached for the bar. "Maybe you shouldn't."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Can't get drunk, Sam."

Sam nodded and handed him a glass. "You ever been in a car this fancy?"

Bucky shook his head. "They didn't treat me like a human being, Sam. They wouldn't put me in a limo." The alcohol burned his throat going down but otherwise had little effect. It certainly didn't calm him. He hadn't worked out how he was going to talk to Pepper Stark. She probably hadn't even known Howard or Maria Stark. He wasn't sure how he was going to make amends to someone who was a) filthy rich, and b) so indirectly affected.

The car stopped before he'd managed to put the words together in his mind. The driver opened the door nearest the curb this time. Bucky took a deep breath then scooted out of the car. He waited for Sam and they walked toward the large glass doors of the New York Marriott Marquis hotel. A woman stepped out of those doors before they reached them. She smiled and shook each of their hands. "Right this way, gentlemen."

She led them past the front desk and into an elevator. It was a glass elevator. Bucky felt whatever tension had loosened resettle itself across the back of his neck. He moved closer to the door and closed his eyes.

"You gonna be okay, man?" Sam asked.

"Don't like heights," Bucky admitted.

"You jumped out of an airplane at two hundred feet." Bucky could hear him smiling.

"Didn't enjoy it." Bucky kept his eyes closed. "Dad died in a parachuting incident." He felt Sam's hand on his shoulder again.

"So you don't want me to grab you and take you flying next time I got the suit on?"

The elevator finally stopped. Bucky stepped out quickly. Pepper Stark was waiting right there in the corridor. She smiled and took both of their hands in hers. "It's good to see you again, Sam, Bucky. Do you mind if I call you Bucky?"

"No, ma'am."

She let go of their hands and opened a door behind her. "Sam, would you mind waiting in the living room? Bucky and I have something to talk about." The living room was on the right, but she took Bucky's hand again and led him to the left.

Bucky looked back at Sam, who mouthed, "You got this. Breathe." He emphasized the last bit with hand gestures.

It wasn't so easy. It felt like he had a boa constrictor around his chest. The door closed behind him and he was in a large office area that seemed more high-tech than the rest of the hotel. She led him to a sofa at one side of the room. "Please, have a seat. You left so quickly after service. I hope you didn't feel you weren't welcome."

Bucky tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt a little. "Tony, um, Mr. Stark, he wouldn't have—"

"A lot happened in the five years you were gone," she interrupted. She walked to the desk. "Tony got a lot more… mellow. Which is not to say he was mellow, just more mellow." She touched some buttons on a keyboard. "We are talking about Tony Stark, after all."

Bucky started to speak but his voice wouldn't work. He cleared his throat. "I didn't really know him."

"He didn't give you a chance to know him." She came back to the sofa and sat down on his left side. "I've been going through some of his journals from those five years. I found an entry that involves you." She lifted her hand and there was some kind of remote in it. An image of Tony Stark was projected from the desk into the space between the front of the desk and the coffee table.

"When I first learned Barnes was one of the dusted," the image said, "I thought, 'Well, one good thing came out of that snap.' Then I got mad at myself for giving that purple monstrosity credit for anything good." He walked backward and seemed to lean on the desk. "So yesterday, I remembered I still had some of Cap's stuff from Avenger's Tower. I'd cleaned it out after Siberia. I was going to send it back when I saw this." He seemed to lift something from the desk. It was a file folder, thick with pages. He turned it to show the camera briefly. The writing on the folder was in Russian, but Tony turned it back and set it down before Bucky could read it. The boa constrictor was working hard on his chest, causing him to take shallower breaths.

Tony went on. "I figured the mission to kill my parents would in there, but it's all in Russian. So I built an algorithm to translate it and scanned all the files. I found something to work on, and when the translation was done, Friday started reading it to me." He looked away and clenched his jaw. "It made me sick. Threw up right there in the trashcan." He helpfully pointed to the waste basket on the side of the desk. "That he—anyone—" He gave up and rubbed the bridge of his nose and eyes.

Bucky thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen so he tried to do what Sam had said and breathe. He couldn't take his eyes off of Tony.

"My hatred and anger seemed so… pointless, so… unjustified." He turned and pounded the surface of the desk a couple times. "Cap tried to tell me he was mind-controlled. If I hadn't been so emotional, I could have seen that the guy in Berlin after Zemo was not the same guy in that bunker in Siberia. The guy in Berlin was the same as the guy that killed my parents. There was no life in his eyes. The guy I was trying to kill in Siberia, he had life. He was fightin hard for it. I had to face that when I listened to what they did to him. They tortured him. They treated him like a lab rat—worse than an animal. He was thing to them. They took everything from him. Before every mission, they erased his memories. They made him into a machine and sent him to kill my parents. Steve had seen that. That his friend was in there, that he was a victim. I missed it and I played right into Zemo's hands. And now Barnes is dead and I can't make it up to him. He and half of the universe."

The snake let go of his chest but it was still hard to breathe. He was wringing his hands, the Vibranium one pressing on the knuckles of his other hand. Pepper put both her hands on his arm. But that was his left arm. Minimal sensation.

Tony turned back to the camera. "I could have read that file right after Siberia. I had two years! I knew he was alive somewhere. I could've called Steve, patched that up. Maybe if I had, we'd have been together to fight Thanos. Maybe we would've won. Then I could have met with Barnes, told him I forgave him… asked him to forgive me. I could've helped him come home, finally. He was a POW for like seven decades. Gotta be some backpay in that. Got him a psychologist or psychiatrist or neurologist or whoever, to help him get his memories back, maybe deprogram him so some other psychopath like Zemo doesn't activate him again. Maybe he could've got that life Cap kept putting off." Tony blew out his breath and slumped his shoulders. "But I can't do that." He shrugged and sighed. "Maybe he's a peace now. I hope so. He deserves it."

Bucky quickly wiped at the tears on his face. Pepper let go of him to stop the recording and Tony winked away. She moved to the coffee table right in front of him. She took both of his hands in hers. But he couldn't look up at her.

"There was a story about you in the paper. How you saved those politicians from being cooked to death in that truck. Had some statements from people you had talked to. People to whom you made amends. And I couldn't understand that at first. None of that was your fault. Then I thought maybe because Tony reacted so badly, that you thought everyone else would, and so you let that weight of guilt fall onto your shoulders."

One hand went to his chin and she lifted it. "He can't make amends for that. So I will, if you'll let me."

Bucky shook his head. "I killed them," he breathed. "I deserved—"

She took his hands again and stood him up before he could finish. "You didn't deserve any of it. You didn't deserve what they did to you. You didn't deserve what they made you do." She let go of his left hand and put her hand against his cheek. "You deserve grace."

Then she pulled him into a hug, and he couldn't help but wrap his arms around her. The tension he'd felt before melted in her embrace. He heard her sniffle and realized they were both crying. After a few minutes, she broke the hug and wiped at her eyes. She left him and walked to the desk again. She returned with a thin silver box about the size of the folder Stark had found.

"You may not want to read this. It's your story, so it's up to you." She handed it to him. But when she did, there were two business cards under her thumb.

He held them up and read the name on the first one: Lawrence Hansen.

"He's a lawyer," she explained. "Specializes in military matters. Fights to get dishonorable discharges overturned for vets with PTSD. He's something of a crusader. I've hired him for you. You were a POW for seventy years. And the other, she's going after Hydra's money. They had a lot of it. It's being parceled out to their victims. She's going to make sure you get a share." She put a hand on his arm, his real arm. "Unlike Tony, I'm very aware that money doesn't solve everything. But it can help you to be free to work on solving those things. And you have my number now. If you need anything."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He put the cards in a pocket of his jacket and tucked the folder under his left arm.

She squeezed his other arm and smiled. "Welcome home, Sergeant Barnes."

The End
©2021 Gabrielle Lawson