Bucky VIII: Klaue

His nine-month scans came back clean, and the countdown to summer edged ever closer. When the last day of school finally arrived, Bucky tore through the front door with a whoop of joy. Now only a few days remained before he departed for the Netherlands. He spent those days planning what to pack—with Timmy's help, as he'd promised—and then, of course, actually packing it. His parents did the same. Bucky didn't know exactly what their portion of the trip entailed, but he frankly didn't want to. That was between them.

Bucky had flown many times in his life before, every time they visited family or Camp McCoy up in Wisconsin. Only a few times had they dared attempt the fifteen hour drive, splitting it up into two days and bedding down at a hotel in Cleveland in between. However, an international flight was another matter entirely. Fortunately, the Wish people had them covered. Bucky had never seen his dad so not stressed in an airport.

Unlike the Fault in Our Stars, Bucky cared little for the scenery of the country. Steve was the history buff. Bucky was just here for the soccer—or, he supposed, he should say football while he was here. Once they touched down and left the airport, the Wish people showed them to their hotel in Rotterdam and handed them the week's itinerary. Tomorrow morning, Bucky would meet Klaue, and spend every day for the next three days training with him and the rest of the Netherlands National team. On the last day, they'd all go out to lunch together. Bucky literally could not wait. He barely slept that first night, from a combination of jet lag and excitement.

~0~

The stadium was called "De Kuip," which translated to "the Tub," and Bucky could see why. It was massive. He could barely contain himself. They didn't pass a single person on their way in, and Bucky wondered if this just happened to align with a period of no events or if the Wish people had somehow finagled their way into using it exclusively for him. When Bucky saw the field, he almost started crying. The entire Netherlands team was lined up in their orange jerseys, each holding a letter to spell out, "Congrats, Bucky."

As they approached, Klaue stepped out of line and came forward, crossing his arms and smiling. "So, this is the American boy who wants to be a footballer." He looked Bucky up and down like a hungry man would look at a cut of steak. Then, he extended his right—and only—hand. "Ulysses Klaue."

Bucky accepted the handshake. "Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you, sir. I just want to start by saying thank you, for this opportunity."

"You're thanking me already? I'd say that's a bit premature. What if I'm a rubbish teacher?"

Bucky's smile faltered. He hadn't expected this attitude from his would-be mentor, but he decided to roll with it. "I'd still be honored to have met you."

"Alrighty then. So, the people tell me you were already a keeper before you lost your arm. That right?"

"Yes sir."

"Cut it with the "sir" crap. I'm not that old. I don't look that old, do I?" He turned to the player standing on crutches beside him. "Finn, do I look that old?"

"Nee."

"Okay, good. So, you've already been trained on goalkeeping with both hands. That's good. You know how to control both arms. This'll be easier then because you only have to worry about one."

Mathematically, it made sense, but at the same time it didn't. Bucky may have let his confusion show a little bit too much on his face, because Klaue burst out laughing.

"I'm just kidding. I don't know the first thing about goalkeeping with two arms; I didn't start playing until after. But I'm going to take a wild guess and say that it's a little bit easier. On the bright side, we get smaller nets, which makes their job," he gestured to all the fielders on either side of him, "Much harder."

Bucky could tell he liked this guy.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get started. Show me what you've got. Finn, have at it." Klaue led Bucky over to one of the goals, one much smaller than regulation placed much closer to the center of the field. Because running was so much more difficult on crutches, the field was shorter. Bucky had practiced with Gabe in the months leading up to this trip, but he still feared that Klaue would take one look at his skills as a one-armed goalie and decide he wasn't even worth coaching. He rolled over a bucket full of soccer balls and dumped it out, then nodded for Bucky to take up position in the goal. Klaue kicked them to Finn, who sent them sailing towards Bucky.

Any balls that soared to his right, he saved fine. But even with practice, he still hadn't figured out how to correct the deficit caused by his lack of a left arm. Fortunately, he'd moved past the stage of attempting to block shots with his phantom arm. He glanced at Klaue every so often, attempting to gauge his reaction, but the man remained stoic. Eventually, he stopped feeding Finn balls and Bucky waited to hear what he had to say.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said. "But I think it's time you learn the secret of amputee goalkeeping—well, my secret at least."

"There's a secret?" he asked.

"Well, sort of. I can't exactly keep it a secret because people see me do it in games. Have you seen it?"

"I…think so?" Bucky remembered a few clips he saw where Klaue did something he hadn't seen any other goalies attempt. Maybe that's what he was talking about.

"Okay. The most important thing you will ever learn about this position: the flip."

"The flip?" he repeated.

"Yes. The flip. I always say, if you can flip fast enough, it's like you have two arms. Now, I'm not talking about an acrobatic flip of any kind. It's a simple as pivoting one hundred eighty degrees about your one foot. Like this." He demonstrated flipping around to face the other direction while keeping his gaze trained on Bucky as closely as possible. Bucky mirrored his movement and, after the flip, his good arm now occupied what had before been empty space. Now he understood how this could work.

"Now, at first it will feel hopelessly awkward. Actually, scratch that, it will always feel awkward, but less so as you keep practicing. No conventional goalkeeper ever saves a ball with the back of their hand because it offers a lot less control. But if it comes down to letting the ball enter the goal or having it bounce away uncontrollably, there's no question. Ready to try it?"

"Sure."

Bucky stood normally in the goal once again and waited. Finn kicked a ball towards his left side, so he pivoted around and tried to spot it over his shoulder. The ball did hit his hand, but not centered enough to bounce out of the goal. "Close, very close," Klaue said with an approving nod. "Was it as awkward as you expected?"

"More awkward," Bucky said sheepishly.

"Excellent. That means there's work to be done."

And work they did. For three days straight, Bucky did nothing but practice with Klaue, Finn, and occasionally one of the other players from the team. Oh, he ate and slept too, but none of that mattered amidst all the soccer. He came nowhere near mastering the skills Klaue taught him, but he got the basics down enough that he could practice them at home. Mom took so many photos and videos he worried that her storage would fill up.

The first time he successfully blocked a shot by both flipping and jumping, Klaue literally whooped with joy and started singing "What is Love?" for some reason. "High-five!" he cried, and Bucky eagerly reciprocated. "Now other side!" He held his stump out. Bucky just stared at it in confusion.

"Um…what?"

"Gotcha," he said with a cheeky grin. "That was great. You're learning quicker than I thought."

"Thank you."

"And to think I saw you as some crazy American."

That night, Bucky raved to his parents about everything he learned that day while they told him about their tour of the city and the nice restaurant where they'd eaten dinner. He only managed to fall asleep that night because he was so exhausted from the day's activity.

~0~

On the last day, they worked drills again with Finn. He started shooting exclusively to Bucky's good side, which he appreciated. It was a good warm up, one which felt just like goalkeeping used to before he lost his arm. After a few minutes, he threw in the occasional left-leaning shot, but not so far that Bucky couldn't handle it with a side-step and a cross reach. Then, things got more difficult. Already panting, Bucky found himself hugging the left side of the net so tightly to protect it that he didn't have enough time to get back to the right side to block a shot. He actually missed a few.

Klaue continuously shouted encouragement, and Bucky rallied. Just as Klaue taught him, he flipped around a few times and swatted the ball away with the back of his hand. Then, Finn kicked one so far right Bucky almost left the goal, followed quickly by a low shot all the way to the left. In an instant, Bucky gauged the distance and knew he wouldn't make it even if he pivoted. Instead, he lunged to the left, planted his right hand on the ground, and launched himself feet first to intercept the ball. It contacted his raised foot about a foot off the ground and ricocheted back out onto the field. Finn stopped shooting. Klaue fell silent. Bucky scrambled to his feet and stood in the goal, breathless. He couldn't believe what just happened.

"That was awesome! That was awesome!" Klaue cheered, literally jumping up and down in excitement. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"That was insane," Finn agreed.

"Way to use your head, Barnes!" Klaue said. "Or your foot, I suppose. Now that's adaptive sports!"

"Thanks," Bucky said sheepishly.

"I'd better be retired by the time you start playing for the Americans," Finn said. Bucky didn't think he'd ever received a more meaningful compliment. He kind of wished he had the save on video so he could show Coach Phillips and Steve. As far as last days of training camp went, it was easily his best ever.

The next day, the entire team took him to lunch. It was strange to see them all not dressed for the game, wearing prosthetics instead of crutches and street clothes instead of orange jerseys. Bucky sat between his father and Klaue near the head of the long table. "This has been the best few days of my life," he said unashamedly.

"I'm glad we could make that happen for you," one of the players said. "Cancer's a bitch."

"No kidding," Bucky chuckled. He turned to Klaue, working up the courage to ask a question that had been nagging him ever since he first saw the man online. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you lose your arm?"

"Good luck getting a straight answer outta him," Finn scoffed. "He told each and every one of us a different story."

"Did not!" Klaue insisted.

"Yes, you did," another player retorted. "You told me it was a chainsaw, Finn it was a bear, and Bram it was frostbite."

"None of those are true. Who told you that?"

"You did!" they all shouted in unison.

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"Ah, well. Since we have a special guest, I suppose now is as good a time as any for the truth to come out."

"Are you serious?" Finn asked incredulously.

"I am. Here's the truth, for Bucky and all of you to hear. It was a combine harvester."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, a word of advice to all of you. Especially you, Bucky, you can't afford to lose another arm. Never, ever agree to help your dad on his farm while drunk."

Silence descended over the table for approximately three seconds before they all exploded into laughter. "I've waited five years to hear the real story," one of them announced.

"Dammit Klaue, you've been sitting on that one for far too long!"

"I don't know if I've doubled my respect for you or lost it all!"

"It's not funny!" Klaue said, though he was laughing too. "I used to love that old harvester. I called him Ultron."

"Why?"

"Because that sounds like a cool machine name."

"No it doesn't."

"Whatever. My dad trashed the thing anyway. Changing the subject, I have something for you." He turned to Bucky and presented a box. Not expecting anything beyond the amazing experience he'd already gotten, Bucky blushed and fumbled when he reached out to accept it. Peeling off the lid, he revealed a black and orange team jersey. Bucky picked it up and turned it over to find Klaue's name on the back, in addition to a scribbled signature in black marker.

"Wow. Thank you so much."

"No problem, kiddo. I look forward to seeing you on the field someday soon."

"Just not too soon," Finn added. "I'd like to beat the Americans a few more times."

"Okay," Bucky promised.

~0~

Bucky wore his new Klaue jersey on the flight home. When they landed, he checked his phone and found several unread texts from Steve. "What's up?" he texted back. "Just landed."

"Oh good." Steve replied immediately. Bucky knew something was probably up if he got back that quickly. That meant he'd been paying close attention to his phone waiting for Bucky's reply. "I wanted to wait until your trip was over to tell you this."

Bucky's heart sank, though he already knew what Steve was about to tell him. He'd been waiting to hear this news since the Bartons revealed the truth of his friend's condition. "What?"

"Clint passed away. The funeral's tomorrow."