Thanks for clicking on my TFATWS Novella: You Show Me What Peace Is Then I'll Show You My Smile! Let me tell you a little bit about the book.

Synopsis:

Basically a story that follows Bucky's adventures in Louisiana. Includes:

- kids touching his arm

- heavy talks with Sam

- Sarah being worried

- Bucky nightmares

- Bucky PTSD panic attack because of firework show

- and more fun, fun angst and whump!

Excerpts:

Unavailable at this time.

Foreword: I'm obsessed with Bucky in Louisiana. Despite the fact that he seems to have found peace with the Wilsons, I can't help but rip that to pieces in this shameless whump fic.

Onward!

I love reviews also! And not because I'm bragging and I want y'all to tell me how great I am. Do you come across a chapter that you think could be improved upon? Some error you notice? Tell me! I strive to improve. :D But if you really like a chapter or something, again, let me know!

So, I think that's it! I hope you will stick around, review, favorite, follow, all that cool stuff. :D

Without further ado, please enjoy this novella!

TW: mentions of past suicide attempt and the topic of suicide. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to that. Seriously– I ignored a fanfic's trigger warning regarding this topic years ago and that mistake cost me many sleepless nights and some anxiety attacks. Please protect your heart.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Falcon And The Winter Soldier TV show, the Marvel franchise, or any of the characters. That all belongs to their original makers. Everything to them. Any added dialogue, plots, or characters are mine, but nothing else. I don't own it.

Chapter One - Contact

The Louisiana sunset catches the fresh paint and I clink Sam's beer bottle with mine. "Gotta catch my flight tomorrow." I take a sip and lean against the mast. "Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, y'know?"

Sam quirks an eyebrow. "You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?"

I shrug. "I don't wanna make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here." Sam gestures to the docks. "The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don't care if you wear small T-shirts– ."

I glance down at my tight shirt.

"–or if you have six toes– ."

A laugh bursts from my chest.

"–or if your mom's your aunt."

I chuckle, letting a warm smile come onto my face. "Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice."

Sam scoffs. "But don't flirt with my sister."

I shake my head. "Naw."

"'Cause if you do," his face hardens, "I'll have Carlos cut you up an' feed you to the fish."

"Okay, okay." I swing more beer into my mouth. "I get it."

"And don't think I don't know what you were tryin' to do. I know Bucky, and this ain't him."

I wiggle my eyebrows. "You should've known me back in 'forty-five. I was a ladies' man– ."

"Hey, you two!" Sarah's voice rises above the splash of the waves. "Dinner time!"

Sam slaps me on the back. "All right, time to give you the house tour."

I watch the kids scramble to get inside. "Are you sure it's okay to– ?"

"Aw, stop your worrying, Buck."

I follow him into the house and the soft sunlight melts through the windows, giving every room a chestnut glow. On every wall hangs a child's drawing in marker, pencil, or crayon, calendars, meal plans, maps, family photos, and light decor. The cupboards, drawers, and boxes are stuffed to the brim with clothes, cups, plates, arts and crafts supplies, kids' toys, and countless other instruments of entertainment. Off to the left, a marker-stained couch sits against a wall with blankets strewn upon it. A couple plants thrive on windowsills and bits of netting hang from doorknobs, courtesy of the Louisiana docks right outside. A sweet, salty breeze blows in from an open window and carries with it the aroma of sizzling burgers and bubbling cheddar cheese. From the gentle lights hanging above to the well-lived house, peace weighs practically in the air. I take a deep breath. Despite their busy lives and Sarah's single-mother-stress and whole deal about the family business and the boat and Sam's role as an Avenger…

I watch Sam's nephews– AJ and Cass?– clamber for seats at the table.

…they're happy. It's as clear as the food on the table.

"You gonna sit down, or what?"

I snap myself out of my thoughts and find that everyone else is already at the table. Every seat has been filled. Save one: a fold-up lawn chair that they'd obviously dragged from elsewhere.

Which means they're making an effort to have me feel welcome.

Or wasting time.

I shrug the thought off and inch the chair out, pursing my lips.

Sarah watches me as I ease into the seat. "You know, that chair ain't gonna bite you."

I raise my head. I must look lost, because Sarah's face softens in seconds.

She breaks into a wide smile. "You don't have to act like that thing's gonna break as soon as you sit down."

Sam reads me easier. "You're welcome here, man. Come on, relax a little."

Sarah glances at Sam, then back at me, nodding. "Please, make yourself at home."

I clench my jaw. "Sorry. It just…feels weird."

Sarah chuckles. "Go ahead and grab yourself a burger, Mr. Barnes. You boys have got lots of calories to earn back!"

I select a burger and grab a bun. "Sam will be the one getting back those calories. And please, call me Bucky." Nudging Sam, I gesture to the ketchup bottle. "Sam, pass me the ketchup."

My partner– co-worker– squints at me. "How could you like ketchup? It's disgusting."

"Well, excuse me for asking– ."

"You like mustard?"

"Nope."

Sam almost chokes. "How do you not like– ?"

"Give me a break, Sam!"

"I will most certainly not."

"Really? You're gonna be like this in front of your nephews?"

"They outta learn some self-defense tactics."

"Self-defense tac…?" I growl under my breath. "What does that have to do with ketchup?"

"It has everything to do with– ."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does!"

"You're not making any sense."

"Exactly." Sam pokes my shoulder.

I stare at him, fire smoldering in my eyes.

Sam snickers. "There's the staring thing again."

I return to cutting my burger. "God, I hate you."

Sam's nephews burst into laughter and huge smiles brighten up their faces.

I reach across Sam's plate to grab the ketchup and withdraw with a gob of mustard on my sleeve. I grit my teeth as Sam scoffs. "Aww, shit!"

Sarah purses her lips and glances at the boys.

I shut my mouth and toss her an apologetic look. Wiping the mess up with a napkin, I pull the stained sleeve back and the fabric glides over my vibration arm like water.

Both Cass and AJ gasp, their eyes wide.

I freeze.

They're staring at the arm.

The vibranium glints in the descending sunlight and each metal plate settles over the other like puzzle pieces. My metal fingers twitch, and the material whirs, clicking.

My eyes find Sam's and lock. Just like my spine.

What should I do?

A little hand clamps around my metal wrist and–

Doctors, razors, devyat, nine, devyat, nine–

–I jerk back, ripping my arm out of the boy's grip.

"Cass!" Sarah glares at her youngest son. "Never touch things that don't belong to you unless you ask!"

I flex my hand and realize that I'm shaking.

Sarah frowns. "Mr. Bucky, I am so sorry. He shouldn't– ."

"No, it's…" I shake my head. "It's fine. I'm just…not used to people touching my arm like that. He only startled me." I swallow hard.

Sarah works her jaw. "Still, that doesn't make it okay. Cass, you know better."

AJ looks at me, then my arm, then back to me. "Excuse me, Mr. Bucky, um…may I touch it?"

I lay my arm out, palm facing downward, and force a little smile onto my face. "Go ahead."

AJ scoots around the table and inches toward me, reaching his hand out.

When his skin hits the metal, a zing runs up my shoulder and I catch my breath. AJ's tiny hand in comparison to the arm that's dealt so much pain… The dozens of necks that I've broken with the metal arm, the kids that I've slaughtered… Sweat beads on my forehead and I'm trembling hard. I can feel Sam watching me. Something about this symbol of innocence touching a symbol of death is… I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. Pictures rush through my head and even though I'm deprogrammed I can't help but think…I don't want to snap, I don't want to snap, don't snap, don't snap, don't snap, don't–

"All right, AJ, that's enough." Sam rests a hand on my shoulder.

AJ moves away and I let out a huge breath. The metal plates on my arm click feverishly. I clench and unclench my fist.

The whole room is dead silent.

Sarah's staring at me, a dark curiosity on her face. The kids are still examining my arm.

I scan the pencil-stained table, piled high with burgers, buns, cheese, and, now, tension.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the silence.

Everyone returns to their meals and go to do the same, but instead of hunger, a dizzying nausea catches me off guard. I try to inhale, but I can't. My lungs squeeze, and I grit my teeth, lightheaded. I'm suffocating. Trapped. Backed into a corner. I force some words out– "E-excuse me," –and shoot to my feet, aiming for the door.

Sam calls from behind. "You good?"

"Yeah." I shut the door with a slam and already, the salty air starts to clear my head. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I breathe deep and just…start walking. The creak of every footstep speaks to years and years of family history on these docks and I can feel the sturdiness of the wood underneath. The gentle setting of the sun loosens my jaw as I keep walking.

Ten minutes.

Seagulls hail the sun's colors.

Twenty minutes.

Sun dips under the horizon.

Thirty minutes.

The shadow of dusk sings.

Forty-five.

Fifty.

An hour.

I find a perch on the edge of a docked boat and listen to the waves, my feet hanging. The chill of the night takes hold. I pull out a mini towel and start polishing my metal arm. I don't get a minute into it before–

"There you are."

I glance over my shoulder to find Sam approaching. "And before you ask: yes, I'm fine."

My co-worker sits beside me. "Really?"

I smile at him.

Sam quirks at eyebrow. "You know I can spot a fake smile, right?"

My smile dies.

"C'mon, Bucky. What's goin' on? What happened back there?"

I stare out at the sea. I expect Sam to make a joke, but he doesn't. He just sits there. Patient.

I inhale. "Sam, I…"

Pause. Silence.

"Take your time."

Unshed tears sting my eyes. "When-when Cass grabbed my arm, I…I just couldn't…" I wet my lips. "My mind went straight to the HYDRA doctors and their knives and the trigger words and I just…" I tighten my lips into a single pale line.

Sam rubs my back. "You can't stop the memories."

"Exactly. And when AJ touched it, I tried to stay calm, but he's…he's just a kid. He's so innocent and I've killed…" my eyes flood with tears, "I've killed so many people. Men, women, children, I slaughtered them all like animals. I was a wolf in a field of sheep. For a kid to touch the thing that's killed so many, it just…I just can't do it." A tear slithers down my cheek and I duck my head to wipe it away.

"There's no shame in tears, Bucky."

I try to stop them, but the tears keep coming and coming and coming. "Being in your house just reminded me…of how badly I want it."

"Want what?"

"A life."

No response.

I keep going. "A normal life. Even simply my age is a reminder that I shouldn't be here. I've tried to adapt, I've tried my best since the Blip, but I still don't know what I'm doing." I crunch my fists together. "And with Steve gone…with the people I've killed…with the families I've torn apart… I've-I've ended the lives of so many. Wouldn't it…wouldn't it only be fair to…end mine as well?"

Sam's head snaps around. His big, brown eyes lock on me. "Buck…"

I stare into the frothy waves.

Sam's hand has stopped on my back. He's still looking at me. He takes in a shaky breath. "Do you…do you really mean that?"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've tried."

"Bucky…" Sam's choked voice trembles.

I slide back my right sleeve to reveal–

Sam catches his breath. "Bucky."

–a line of red across my wrist.

I run my tongue across my lips. "In-in Romania. I attempted. Healed too fast to go and…took four hours to get the blood out of my floors."

More silence.

"Sam, I– ."

Sam crushes me in a hug.

After a pause, I break down sobbing in his arms.

During it all, he talks to me, consoling.

"You listen to me, Bucky. That is never a way out. I may joke around with you a lot, but you're a damn strong man, Bucky. And not just literally because of the arm. Life is tough, Buck. But so are you." He bops me on the shoulder. "And don't you forget it."

I pull away, swiping away the lingering tears.

"Listen, man: if you ever need to talk about anything, any time of the day, you let me know. I'll be there. You've been through hell, man. I'm not going to pretend to know what you've gone through, but I don't have to pretend when I say that I'm here for you." He squeezes my shoulder. "If you're struggling or need someone to pull you out of the dark, you let me know."

I smile again. And this time, the smile is real.

Author's Notes: So? What did you think of the first chapter?