A/N: If it's not one thing it's another. We had a plumbing leak. Not too much damage, but there's paperwork! So much paperwork!
Brooklyn
Steve strained forward to see the familiar shoreline of his home borough. He didn't need to; it was just a mile as the helicopter flies from the Statue of Liberty to the Brooklyn Bridge.
But it was years since Steve had been home, even not counting the time he'd been frozen. From here in mid-harbor, Steve could pretend nothing had changed. The Staten Island Ferry cruised below and the two bridges nearly side by side crossed the East River, with the eponymous Brooklyn Bridge in the forefront.
Hill circled the Brooklyn Bridge, giving Steve a good long look. The shapes of the cars were different, but the bridge looked unchanged. Steve brushed a tear from his eye.
They headed south, following the coast, past the docks where Bucky had worked. Steve saw Prospect Park off to the left. It seemed green and … pink? "I think you're right about the cherry blossoms being in bloom," he said.
"We'll come back over the park and get a better look," Hill promised.
As they swung around the southern coast of Brooklyn, Steve saw Coney Island. He grinned when he saw the gleam and swoop of the Cyclone roller coaster. He remembered Bucky daring him to ride it, which hadn't gone so well for Steve's stomach or Bucky's shoes. Steve remembered hoarding their pennies for a hotdog and drinking from the water fountain to save their money for saltwater taffy. They laughed and shoved each other as kids and flirted with the girls when they were older. Well, Bucky flirted. Steve had been too shy.
Another tear welled up in his eyes. He wiped it away brusquely, not wanting to miss a moment.
The helicopter cruised toward Prospect Park, one of Steve's mother's favorite places. He could see the cherry blossoms through a watery blur. He blinked to clear his view. His mother had loved strolling the paths beneath the flowering boughs. If she hadn't been accompanied by two rambunctious boys anxious to get to the carousel, she could have spent hours admiring the formal gardens, where the flowers changed as the seasons progressed. She'd say the gardens were her favorite part, until they got to the meadow and the woodlands, which reminded her of her girlhood in rural Ireland. Then she'd decide the Long Meadow was her favorite part — especially since the boys could run and play to their hearts' desire. She spent many a peaceful afternoon sunning on a blanket while Steve and Bucky played tag or tossed a ball around. Peaceful mornings had been rare for the hardworking single-mother. Steve appreciated the memory more as an adult than he had as a child.
Sometimes the whole Barnes clan came along and they had a more lively time with a well-filled picnic basket and an ice cream treat from a passing vendor. After 1929, the picnic had been skimpier and the ice cream treat had been one cup shared among all the children. More often than not, Bucky and Steve let Bucky's younger sisters have the ice cream, because they were big boys. Their generosity usually earned them a penny for candy, so no one felt deprived.
Many of Steve's best childhood memories involved Prospect Park. And from the air it hardly looked like it had changed at all.
He automatically looked for the green of Ebbets Field, even though Leslie had told him it was gone. All he saw were buildings.
This area, now, must be his old neighborhood, though the shape was different. He'd never seen it from the air, of course, but he'd seen maps and he'd looked at the view from the bridge. Now the view looked different.
Now there was a sprawling store with an oversized parking lot where there should have been a row of tenements where he and Bucky had lived. The old buildings had been falling apart when Steve lived there. It shouldn't have been a surprise that they had been demolished, but it was. God, the whole street was gone.
Steve was glad he was up in the air where details blurred. Or maybe that was because of his tears.
Brooklyn wasn't the same any more. It was still home, and yet it wasn't.
"Could we … Could we go back to Manhattan, please," he said in a choked voice.
"Of course," Hill answered sympathetically. "Should I head back to SHIELD? We can end this anytime you want."
"No, I want to see the Empire State Building," Steve said. He rubbed his eyes fiercely, angry at himself for spoiling what had been his first happy day in this new time. "Brooklyn … there are too many memories in Brooklyn, but Manhattan was just a place to visit."
Although, those visits brought memories, too.
The rare trips to Manhattan had always meant visits to a museum or a landmark or another treat.
Steve remembered he and his ma and Bucky's family standing on the wind-swept observation deck of the Empire State Building, gawking at the view. He'd never been so high. He remembered Becca Barnes clinging to her big brother's hand, as she leaned out to look the long way down. Bucky had gripped her tightly so she would feel safe.
Steve forced away the thought that all those people — his family — were lost to time and he focused on the fun and excitement they'd felt on their family trip to Manhattan.
Thinking about Bucky's family reminded Steve that the three Barnes girls were younger. Maybe. Maybe everyone wasn't lost.
"Leslie." The word was clogged. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You have information about Peggy and the Commandos … do you have anything on Bucky's family?"
Leslie tilted her head in thought. "No," she decided. "I didn't think to look for that. But I can. I will, as soon as we're done."
Steve relaxed. He hoped, maybe, he still had family somewhere.