Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 2 - Another Name to the List

Once breakfast was over and the kids were off to school, the adults of the household got things in order and went their separate ways in what was becoming an increasingly predictable routine.

After Sarah headed out to the boat, Bucky feigned competency with domestic matters tended to the mass of dishes while Sam started on his morning run.

There was something freeing about the act of simply going for a jog and being alone with his own thoughts for awhile, where he could push himself just a little bit harder each time, just a little bit faster. There was no one around to watch him trace his way along the edge of the lake, but he'd felt those loaded, judgmental stares and he knew only more of that was due to be directed his way in time. He may not have been a super soldier like Steve, but he was damned if he wasn't going to use this as an excuse to get in the best shape of his life.

After what must have been a solid half hour, he heard feet padding up behind him on the trail and he instinctively moved his right to make space for the only other person that would be out this way at this hour.

Bucky easily caught up to him and matched his pace, "Your laps are getting faster," he remarked before turning around so he was jogging backwards, "I mean, if you consider this fast."

"Oh? That's how it's gonna be? Well it's nice to see your humor has aged as well as you have."

"All things considered, I think I'm in pretty good shape for 106, actually."

"That wasn't supposed to be a compliment."

"Well it was."

Sam waved a hand dismissively, but in truth: he was appreciative for the company. Bucky might have that serum running through him and that metal arm of his, but now and then, it was almost easy to forget about them. Whereas Steve made it a point to push himself to his limits, Bucky was intimately aware of just what he was capable of, and far as Sam could tell, he preferred to downplay it most of the time.

"I still don't get how you stay so fit. Do you ever go out and like, swing trees around or something while we're asleep?" Sam inquired. He was only half-joking.

Bucky glanced at him with one of his usual easy shrugs, "The metabolism is part of the package, but yeah, I guess you could say I do my own thing sometimes too, but usually it's more about control than stamina or raw strength."

"So those trees Carlos needed taken off his property, you're telling me that wasn't you, Buck?"

The smirk at the corner of Bucky's lip was telling.

"Man, I knew it. During that last cookout I bet you were doin' that cyborg thing and listening for any heavy items you could throw around when people weren't looking."

"You spent the better part of the time posing so locals could get photos of their Louisiana Hero," Bucky retorted, his voice playful.

"Aw man, don't start that," Sam laughed.

Bucky looked up at the trees spread above them as they jogged, and Sam sensed his thoughts drifting to broader topics, "It's going to be interesting seeing how things comes back together. It's hard to believe it's only been a few months since all that." He made a circular gesture with one hand, and Sam got the reference immediately: since the portals. Since Thanos.

"Last I heard, they're still working on the new Avengers compound," Sam offered, "I think they're hoping to have it done by the Fall, but I'm honestly not sure what happens then. Not like we can just ring Strange and ask for his help planning a trans-dimensional cookout."

His words were playful, but deep down, he was still trying to define what being Captain America meant for him. He'd long-since concluded that he'd have to find his own way. Steve and Tony had arguably been the core leadership of that team, and with them gone, he not only wasn't sure what things would be like if and when the Avengers were needed again, but he was stalwartly certain he didn't want to try to take over that leadership mantle out of obligation to the shield and the man that bore it before him. There were stronger persons and personalities on that team than his black ass, that was for sure.

But even as it was: it meant a lot that Bucky was in his court, whatever came next: aliens, androids, wizards, or even more damn super soldiers.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Bucky agreed.

Sam came to a rolling stop outside the front porch and glanced to the nearby trees that were still lined with padding to protect them. Sarah's feelings towards them changed on a daily basis, rotating between eyesore and testament to a local landmark of where the new Captain America lived and trained. For the moment, she let them be, blissfully unaware of the front window he and Bucky had gotten replaced after one particularly lively training session.

Once Sam caught his breath, the two of them headed inside to grab a drink before they changed gears to practicing tandem maneuvers. Sam passed a glass of lemonade to Bucky and poured himself a glass before he pulled a scrappy hand towel under some cold water and ran it over his face and head, "Man, it's a hundred degrees out and you barely even broke a sweat. It's hardly fair."

Bucky accepted the glass and sat down across from him, "Well, I spent two years in Wakanda."

"That's a dry heat," Sam countered, still grumbling as he ran the wet towel across his forehead. "Anyway. Now that Sarah's off and doing her thing, you have any interest elaborating on why you made that face when she asked how you slept?"

"So it's Captain America, Sam Wilson: Therapist Edition now?" Bucky groaned.

"You're the one who decided to cut your therapist lose. I'm just asking as a friend and fellow vet that has a sixth sense when you're lying."

"Oh, we've been upgraded to friends now?"

"You're deflecting," Sam deadpanned, sliding his empty glass to one side so there was nothing between them. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm not going to force you, you know that. If there's some stuff you're internalizing and you're making headway with your way by journaling or macramé or whatever: glad to hear it. You've got my full-support. But sometimes when you are deep in your own head, it's hard to tell if you're just being normal, respectable "man out of time" melancholy, vet stuff, or if it's some of that other stuff."

Bucky chose to keep his eyes focused on his vibranium fingers as he strummed them over the wooden tabletop. It was clear he was deliberating on how to best respond, "I mean, yeah, it's that stuff. Not nightmares, well, at least not as often as before, but you know how we had that talk about closure?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I did what you said. It was good advice. I tried to stop avenging. I did what I could to make amends and help other people get closure. Some of it was rough, but it helped, and it was the right thing to do." He ran his fingers together, and Sam stayed silent to keep him talking.

"But I remember thinking I'd done the work when I handed in Steve's book. That things were just going to get better from there. And they have gotten better, I'm not trying to complain. But this might sound ridiculous, but you don't know how many times I just wanted to add another name to the list, but I just couldn't."

"Whose?" Sam asked, certain he already knew the answer.

Bucky's hands went still as only his eyes flickered up to meet Sam's own, "The Winter Soldier."

Author's Remarks:
I'm trying to find a good balance between a few different genres I'd like to play with in this piece, and hope you're enjoying things so far! I'd love your feedback if you have any!