A/N: The sequel of 'The Wyvern' has occurred between last chapter and this one - a few differences in canon but we'll survive.
April 16, 2024 (5 Months Since the Westview Anomaly)
Zarzis, Tunisia
Sam Wilson sipped Mahgrebi mint tea at the outdoor cafe in downtown Zarzis, where he and Joaquin Torres had retired to after their mission. It had been a doozy, devolving into an airfight through the canyons on the Tunisian-Libyan border, but Sam had successfully brought down LAF, saved the Air Force Captain Vassant from his hostage situation, and not started a war with Libya. Sam was just waiting for his flight out now, easing up his aches from the battle and fixing Redwing.
Torres talked his ear off about the mission, rehashing moments and movements, as Sam enjoyed the sun on the back of his neck.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, expecting a message about his transport, but instead:
MAGGIE: Just saw about LAF on the news. Must have been a nice bit of flying, that.
She'd included an eagle emoji.
Sam sat back in his chair, letting out a breath. It had been a while since he'd last seen Maggie - a month or so, maybe. He still sometimes woke up in a cold sweat thinking about Westview, so he couldn't imagine what it was like for her. That last day when he'd run into Westview's town square to hug her, she'd been… a ghost of herself. Like she could be the face of a poster about PTSD, with those hollow eyes, the gaunt shadows, the shaking hands, the thousand-yard stare.
It had only been weeks since she'd lost her brother and her leg, and she'd been dressed up and paraded around like a puppet. Sam's brow furrowed at the memory of Wanda.
He'd driven her and Bucky back to Tony's old house in upstate New York. Bucky had had to carry her inside, because she couldn't stand on her prosthetic anymore, and Sam had tried to explain the situation to a frantic Pepper as best as he could; Pepper had all of a sudden woken up remembering Maggie, who'd been missing for a week.
It was messed up.
He'd seen Maggie a few times since; he'd visited her and Bucky's new house once or twice, and it was really nice, airy and right by the lake, filled with gifts and mementos and art. Although Bucky had only been there at the same time as Sam once, and hadn't had much to say. Westview had messed him up too, and… he wasn't interested in talking to Sam. All the unanswered calls told him that much, at least.
Maggie at least knew how to answer the phone. And she'd seemed more settled the last time he saw her. They'd gotten a dog from a rescue shelter; a three legged Doberman, ironically. Maggie fixed cars, and did things around the house, and ran around after her energetic niece. They'd spoken a little about Westview when he visited, but it was all so weird.
Still contemplating the message, Sam tapped out a reply:
You're always welcome to come up with me sometime.
Her reply came a few moments later: I'm retired.
His eyebrows rose. What, from flying?
He waited, but no reply came. Torres leaned over and tried to touch Redwing's wiring, and the cafe owners came over to thank Sam for ending the Blip, and Sam smiled and was gracious though he'd had nothing to do with it. Torres waited for them to leave before he started going on about some new group called the Flag Smashers.
Then Torres told him about a conspiracy theory that Steve was living on the moon.
Sam had forgotten about Maggie's text until he'd had the message that his transport was ready, and he packed up and said goodbye to Torres. On his way to the airfield, he sent her another message.
Listen, I don't know if you saw, but there's going to be a ceremony in D.C. tomorrow morning.
She replied a few minutes later: I think I heard about it. I can't be there though. Something about them expanding Steve's exhibit?
This time, Sam didn't reply.
The gold and marble hotel, lit by a warm amber light. The glass chandeliers. Blood on the marble, and the cacophony of gunfire, and the mask over his face, and, and -
The man with the shaking hands. Please. I-I didn't see anything.
The way he'd tilted his head back a little as he looked down the gun, the look on his face when he knew what was coming.
And then the gunshot.
Bucky jerked up with a gasp, cold sweat gleaming on his skin and his eyes wide. His stomach twisted in the dying echoes of the dream, and his chest heaved.
Nightmare. Memory. He propped his metal arm on his leg and looked around. The rented apartment with its hardwood floors, his makeshift bed of blankets and couch cushions, the TV silently playing a soccer game, spilling sickly pale blue light over him.
He planted a hand on the ground to steady himself, forced himself to breathe. He fumbled for his phone.
Meg picked up on the second ring.
"Hey," she said scratchily, softly. A second later the video chat kicked in and he saw her: half-lit by the lamp on her bedside table, eyes a little puffy from sleep, her hair braided back from her face. Bucky closed his eyes and breathed out. "What did you remember?"
"Same, again," he croaked.
"Nakajima," she murmured. His eyes darted to his notebook on the countertop, where he kept his list. "Anything new?"
"No. Just… his face."
"I know," she whispered, and she was the only one who did. "You should tell Doctor Raynor in your session tomorrow."
"It won't help. I have to make it right."
"Hmm." She rustled a little, and yawned behind her hand.
Bucky pushed himself off the floor, blanket falling away, and ran a hand over his sweaty face. He touched his dogtags, which Meg had returned to him months ago.
"You're sleeping on the floor again, aren't you?"
He glanced down at the blanket and cushion on the floor. "You could come out here, you know," he murmured, padding into the kitchenette. "Sleep on the floor with me, like the old days."
"You sure know how to charm a lady," Meg laughed over the phone as he poured himself a water. "I'm perfectly happy here, and you know it."
Bucky was on a redemption mission. He had the court mandated therapy with Raynor, but also seeking out the people he had wronged, and those who had done wrong. Meg supported him, of course; she'd had her chance to work through all that, what with her trial and HERACLES, but this was the first time Bucky had really had a chance to be in the world since 1943. He needed his chance to make up for all that he'd done. Though it did sometimes feel like he and Meg were at different points on the path.
He often needed to travel, this time to New York City, so they were sometimes apart for a week or two. He always asked Maggie to come with him, and she always said No, I'll stay, with an apologetic smile.
"Tell me about Yori," she continued, sounding a little more awake now. "You've got your Wednesday lunch date tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "I still don't know how to tell him. It's harder than the other stuff."
"Of course it is. It's a hell of a thing to look someone in the eye and tell them you killed their son." Her bluntness about it made him want to flinch. But she'd had practice with this, what with her trial. He'd never had to. Except for with Tony, maybe.
He shook away the memory.
"Remember, when you do tell him, he's eligible for support under HERACLES, and he doesn't know it."
"I know," he murmured, shrinking with guilt again as he sat back down in his makeshift bed. Yori, all alone in that tiny apartment down the hall. The HERACLES money could do him good, let alone the other support, like counselling. He frowned. "I think I had the nightmare because… he's one of the last ones on my list, now."
"I saw about Senator Atwood on the news. Nice work. Did you say the thing?"
He recited: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. My name is James Bucky Barnes, and you're a part of my efforts to make amends." He recalled how the senator had looked at him in abject fear as the feds drove in to arrest her, and his mouth twitched into a smile.
Maggie's eyes glinted. "It kinda sounds like you're recruiting them into a cult, Bucky."
"They're Raynor's words. And maybe I am. Cult of the damned." She levelled him a look and a long silence passed. He closed his eyes. "I know, I know," he said, before she could say anything. "Sorry, it's… late. How's Artemis?"
She turned the camera around so he could see the dark lump curled up at the end of the bed. "Up to no good, as per usual. She's coming along to be a great swimmer, though, for a three-legged dog."
He closed his eyes as he lay back down, the light of the TV washing over him. "I miss you."
"You too. You're coming home in a few days, still?"
"Yeah."
"You don't have to have spoken to Yori by then. You don't have to set yourself a time limit."
"I know, I just… I feel like such a coward," he sighed.
"You're many things, Bucky Barnes. Funny, a pain in the ass, a terrible dancer-"
He cracked an eye open. "Hey now."
"- but not a coward," she finished.
A long silence passed, the light from the TV screen shifting over his skin. He lay on his side, the phone with Maggie's face propped on the blanket just a foot away.
"I should let you get back to sleep," he said.
"You try, too. Love you."
"Love you."
He hung up, and the phone faded to darkness.
April 17, 2024
Washington, D.C.
Sam Wilson stood before an audience of academics, government officials, journalists and museum curators.
"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil." His brow furrowed. "We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols… are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing-" he bent down to pick up the shield. Cool to touch, a strange sort of lightness to the Vibranium that belied the power in it.
"I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up, and he's gone. So today we honour Steve's legacy, but also we look to the future. Thank you, Captain America." He looked up at the huge display of Steve's face. "But this belongs to you."
He handed the shield off to a Smithsonian curator, who mounted it in a glass case.
And that was that.
Rhodey was the only one who'd shown up. They took a walk through the Captain America exhibit, which had been expanded since its 2014 edition; now there were sections on Ultron, on the Sokovia Accords, on Thanos and the Blip.
Later, after Sam had explained that the shield belonged to Steve, they'd made their way through to the newly-mounted shield in its glass case, next to Steve's WW2 uniform. The shield looked strange, under fluorescent lights. Rhodey put his hands in his pockets and sighed.
"The world's broken. Everybody's just looking for somebody to fix it." A long pause passed. "It's a new day, brother."
Text Message Exchange, April 17, 2024:
MEG: I'm with Morgan so I can't call, but I just saw that Sam donated Steve's shield to the Smithsonian?
BUCKY: Same. I assume you didn't know?
MEG: No, I would have told you.
BUCKY: Now all Steve's stuff is in glass boxes.
MEG: Not all his stuff.
MEG: And Steve isn't his shield. I'll call you about it soon, but I hope you're okay.
MEG: You remember when we went to that museum?
BUCKY: Yeah, after the Helicarriers. I learned about myself there. I just don't like the idea of it.
MEG: Well maybe we could go back sometime. And if seeing the shield behind glass doesn't feel right, we do a smash and grab.
BUCKY: See, that's the thing. It doesn't belong to me.
MEG: I'll take it. My dad made it.
BUCKY: Haha
BUCKY: Off to Raynor's now, I don't want to get stuck in traffic.
MEG: I've got my session with Mai, too. Go, you'd better protect the world from your road rage.
BUCKY: I do not have road rage
MEG: 'Goddamn electric scooters!' [fist emoticon]
BUCKY: You should see them driving around New York, doll, they don't know how to be on the road.
MEG: Go!
Stark-Barnes Home, Upstate New York
"How's Bucky?" asked Dr Mai Nguyen.
Maggie shifted on her couch, wincing a little as her prosthetic ankle pinched her other calf. Mai's face was visible on a tablet propped on the coffee table; most of their sessions were done this way these days, as Mai was based out of New York City and Maggie's house was a drive away.
They'd come a long way since their first session in the Avengers Facility, when Maggie had been wearing grey prison scrubs and a metal bracelet with a green LED light on it. Mai still liked to bring up the binder Maggie had made, categorising her traumas.
Maggie wondered how big the binder would be these days.
"He's alright," she responded, "back in the city today. He's been a bit off since the funeral, to be honest." Steve had died only a few months after giving the shield to Sam. The funeral had been nice. Quiet, of course, and secret, since Steve Rogers was legally already dead. They'd got to know his grandkids. Bucky had been quiet. "He's still working on his list."
"He was home recently, though?"
"Oh yeah, it was great," Maggie smiled, reaching for her cup of coffee. Beside her on the couch, Artemis rolled over with a whine and pressed her wet nose against Maggie's thigh. "We had dinner at Pepper and Morgan's, and… I think I had an epiphany."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I guess I realised… how much time I have. I've got time to grieve, and recover, and figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I know I still have a lot to work through. I feel… kind of broken, you know. Diminished from what I used to be. But I'm alright with it." Maggie glanced at her metal leg. "I was given a great deal of power as a young child, and now I feel… limited. But in a human way."
"Was this your epiphany?"
"Sort of, but there's more. I also know I'm going to keep my promise to Tony. I'm going to stay. Here, on the lake, with my family. I've got this great house," she looked around the living room, which looked so different from the empty space it had been months ago. They had a dark rug before the fireplace, and things filling the shelves and spaces around the room; photographs and art and little sculptures and a gramophone. They had a wooden shield from new Asgard, and an ornamental Vibranium dagger from Wakanda. "I've got the boat I can take out on the water, and Artemis, and Pepper and Morgan right nearby. Tony's here too, in a way - don't worry, I'm not seeing things. But I feel… closer to him here. Staying is… my mission."
Doctor Raynor's Office, New York City
"How's Maggie?" asked Doctor Raynor, her legs crossed and her clipboard sitting on her lap. She was a hard-faced woman of many unimpressed stares, and today she wore a no-nonsense grey cardigan over a green blouse, her shrewd eyes fixed on office was designed to be calming: the mural of trees, the soft light through the blinds, the minimalist furniture. Bucky didn't know how to sit, on the wide grey couch.
He let out a breath, still trying to shake off the nightmare from last night. And he knew what Raynor was doing, asking about Meg instead of him. She knew he was more likely to talk about Meg. "She's doing better, I think. She's still dealing with Westview, but… I think being at the house and having Pepper and Morgan near helps. Morgan just started school. Meg…" he frowned.
"What is it?" Raynor's head cocked.
"I guess I'm still worried about her. She's dealing with everything the right way. She's still in therapy, and she gets along with her therapist," he eyed Raynor's stone face. "And she's doing exercise, and walking the dog, and swimming, and cooking, and being with her family…"
"But?"
"But…" he sighed. "We've all changed. I just haven't figured out… she's not completely happy."
"Well she's been through a lot, that's understandable. These things take time."
"I know, and I'm not rushing her. That's not what I mean. But…" he frowned. "She hasn't been flying."
"Oh? And that means…"
"I don't know what it means. She's never… her wings are a part of her, literally and metaphorically. But she doesn't use them anymore."
Raynor eyed him, head still tilted. "What do you think that means, for her?"
"I… I don't know. But I just want her to be happy."
"Hm," Raynor said. She leaned back in her chair. "It's been five months since Westview, now. You had a lot to talk about right after it happened. How do you feel about Wanda, now?"
"I'm angry with her," Bucky admitted, metal finger scratching at the fabric of the couch. "Furious. She took away Meg's memory, her control, her dignity. She took the memory of Meg away from everyone who loved her. Me, Pepper, Morgan. I don't…" he broke off, his jaw clenched. "Meg's less angry than me, and she's explained it, but I can't… I can't stop seeing her face, when Wanda left. She'd lived a nightmare. After years of being forced to think and say and do what HYDRA told her, and then losing her brother, Wanda put her through it all again. To a soundtrack."
"I think I am angry with Wanda," Maggie sighed, scratching behind Artemis's ear as Mai listened attentively. "I just… I don't have the energy for it. I mostly feel sad for her. Sad that she did that to herself. Sad for everyone involved. Sad that she thought… that she thought that was what peace and happiness would be for me."
She'd seen the footage from WandaVision, after she'd escaped, with Bucky by her side. It had been hard to know whether to scream or laugh: her wide, cartoonish smiles as she played the part of the nice neighbour across the road. The man she called Tony and laughed with. Bucky's dogtags, and the Barnes-Stark mailbox.
Maggie had told Bucky about the other things she remembered from inside the Hex, that hadn't made it on screen: the hours spent trapped, unable to move or speak because she wasn't a part of the story. The side stories and plots she traipsed along. The excruciating pain of Wanda pressing in on her mind, every second of every day. The things she'd done to try to break free.
Sometimes she still looked at her left palm, as if expecting to see a scar there.
She hadn't seen Wanda since, and hadn't been able to track her. Maggie wasn't sure she wanted to.
"I think," Maggie said contemplatively, "in her own tragic way, Wanda was trying to make Westview some kind of utopia for me as well. The nice house, having my leg back, having my brother, having a marriage to Bucky, even though he wasn't there."
"Does Bucky know about these thoughts?" Mai asked, patient and calm.
"Yes, he knows. It's just… we're both so protective over each other, the fact that we both got hurt in this makes things complicated."
"Of course. You mentioned feeling like you were starting at square one when you came back to the house after Westview. Have you settled in now?"
"Oh yeah, I love it," Maggie said, a smile creeping back over her face. "I never knew how much I would enjoy just being. Making coffee, cooking, gardening, walking Artemis, fixing things around the house. I made shadow boxes the other day. You know about shadow boxes?" Mai nodded, bemused. "And Artemis has really livened the place up. Bucky's spoiling her, and Morgan's obsessed."
"The house is great," Bucky smiled. "Never thought I'd get to have a place like that, with Meg."
"You're not there much these days though, are you?" Raynor said knowingly, eyebrows annoyingly high.
"I've got my list, my atonements to make," Bucky said, lacing his hands together. "We've worked it out so I'm home half the time, and out here the other half. I've got a rental apartment."
"Is that difficult for you?"
"Of course, we've already spent so much time apart," he sighed. "But Meg's more comfortable at home, and she knows I need to do this."
"Morgan's at school now, isn't she?"
"Yeah, in a primary school for gifted children. She's doing really well. It's a little quieter around here during the days though. Especially since Pepper's got her consultancy job. She's been absolutely killing it, I don't know how she does it."
"How about you?" Mai asked, leaning forward a little. "Have you thought about working?"
"I don't really need to." Maggie shifted, adjusting the prosthetic again, and Artemis whined softly.
"Neither does Pepper. Why do you think she does?"
"I… she's a brilliant woman. She wants to keep her mind at work, she wants to make a difference in the world."
"Exactly."
Maggie sighed. "I've made plenty of differences already, and I'm tired."
"You don't have to save the world every time you step outside the door," Mai replied, her voice softer.
"How's the sex life?" Raynor asked bluntly.
"Jesus," Bucky said.
"So not much happening on that front then," she said, eyebrows rising again.
"We do just fine," he shook his head. "And we've both been through a lot. We're taking it slow." Well. Slow-ish.
"Are you still having nightmares?"
Damn. He knew she'd try to spring it on him. He'd avoided her gaze after her last question, so he kept his gaze focused away, ignoring it.
"James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?"
He carefully lifted his gaze to hers. "No."
"We've been doing this long enough that I can tell when you're lying," she replied archly. "Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"
He made a show of thinking about it. "No."
She closed her eyes in frustration. "You're a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you're not gonna…" she made a stabbing gesture.
Bucky nodded. Understandable.
"It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare."
He sighed. "I didn't have a nightmare."
She started writing on the clipboard. He hated the writing on the clipboard.
"C'mon, really? You're going to do the notebook thing? Why? It's passive aggressive."
"You don't talk, I write," she shrugged.
"Okay, okay." And he began to tell her about Senator Atwood.
"Are you still having nightmares?"
Maggie let out a deep sigh and tipped her head back. "Ugh. Yes."
"Tell me about them."
"Where to start? I still have the old ones, from HYDRA. And Siberia. And the fight against Thanos, both times. My leg being smashed to bits. Tony. And… Westview. My memories, but also… sometimes I still have Wanda's nightmares." Maggie felt herself go cold, and she tugged the nearest blanket over her. "I'll be hiding under a bed, staring at a Stark Industries missile, waiting for it to go off. Pietro, full of holes and his eyes all dead. I never even met him. The building in Lagos, burning. Vision" - her voice cracked - "Vision screaming while Thanos ripped the stone out of his head." Her face twisted. "I wasn't there for that, when we fought Thanos. And now I've got a front row seat."
"That's a lot to be haunting you," Mai said in a low voice.
"It hardly seems fair that I've got all my usual nightmares, and now hers as well." She rubbed her eyes. "Bucky and I have an agreement, though. When we're apart, and one of us has a nightmare, we call. It helps to make the fear less real."
"I think that sounds wonderful."
"Look," Raynor said, looking down. "One day, you're going to have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you, and that they can be trusted."
"I trust people," he replied petulantly.
"Other than Maggie," Raynor raised her eyebrows.
"I do."
"Yeah? Give me your phone." She held her hand out. Bucky raised his eyes to the ceiling, let out a put-upon sigh, then handed it over.
She began picking through it, while he peered out the window.
"You don't have ten phone numbers in this thing," she commented, and Bucky's face settled into a vague scowl. "Oh, and you've been ignoring the texts from Sam." She looked up at him briefly. "Look, you've got to nurture friendships." She kept reading. "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, me, Maggie… Maggie and I are the only people you have called all week. That is so sad."
She shut the phone and tossed it back to him. Bucky caught it one handed, still scowling.
"You're alone," she uttered, eyes fixed on him now. He glanced up to the ceiling, jaw working. "You're a hundred years old, you have no history, no connections. And I know you're going to bring up Maggie - don't get me wrong, that is great, I genuinely think the two of you are great for each other. But she cannot be the only person in your life. She's hurting too, and the two of you can't entirely lean on each other for support. I think you know that. You need friendships-"
"Are you lashing out at me, Doc?" Bucky cut in. "Because that's really unprofessional, you know. When did that start? Yelling at your clients?" She reached for the notebook again. "Oh, the notebook. That's great." He sighed. "Alright, give me a break, I'm trying, okay?"
She put down her pen and looked at him.
"This isn't…" he sighed. "This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little… calm, with Meg, and then in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years."
She nodded and looked down, as if composing a reply. "So. Now that you've stopped fighting. What do you want?"
He stared for a moment. "Peace."
"That is utter bullshit-"
"You're a terrible shrink-"
"I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies, and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." All of a sudden he couldn't take the earnestness in her voice, or the way she looked at him. "And James, it is very hard to escape." He looked up. "Look, I know that you have been through a lot. But you've got your mind back, you're being pardoned, you've got a great partner. I mean, these are good things!" She kept her gaze on him. "You're free."
He couldn't move. "To do what?"
"When's the last time you left the house?" Mai asked, just before the end of their session. "Not including Pepper and Morgan's house, the store, or the lake."
Maggie blinked, thinking about it. "I… I don't know. It doesn't matter though, I've got everything I need here."
Mai just looked at her for a long few moments, as if she could read her mind through the screen. "We spent many long months in court working to keep you free, Maggie, to keep you from being shut up somewhere you'd never leave." She paused, and Maggie frowned at the memory of her long, gruelling trial. "I just don't want to see you become your own jailor."
"This is my home, it's not a prison," Maggie argued, gesturing around at her living room as if Mai could see it.
Mai's brow furrowed. "Then why can't you leave?"
After walking home, and successfully preventing Yori Nakajima from fist-fighting their neighbour Unique by the dumpsters, Bucky and Yori ended up at their usual spot at Izzy's, the Japanese restaurant down the way. He'd tried a lot of new food since rejoining the world, and he couldn't believe how cheap some of it had become.
He sampled sushi while Yori read the obituaries. They drew a few looks, the bald old man with the white eyebrows and the seemingly younger man in the dark clothes and leather jacket.
"Nobody made it past 90 this week," Yori lamented.
"So young. Such a shame."
When their usual waitress, Leah, commented on their order, Yori leaned toward Bucky and whispered conspiratorially:
"You should ask her out."
Bucky shot him a face, shaking his head. "I've got a girlfriend, Yori."
Yori snorted and turned to Leah as she wiped down the countertop. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo, or a night of pinochle?"
"I'm really sorry about him," Bucky leaned forward.
"Why are you sorry?' she smiled. "I'm game."
Ah. "He's got hearing problems," Bucky emphasised, casting a glare at Yori, who chuckled. "I've got a girlfriend."
"Tell us about this girlfriend, then," Yori gestured around. "Where is she, if you're having lunch with an old man every Wednesday?"
"Yeah, what's her name?" Leah added, getting in on the joke with a glint in her eye. She didn't seem too put out about being rejected.
Bucky stalled. He couldn't go around telling the public he was in a relationship with Maggie Stark; it'd blow his cover, for one thing, and no one would ever believe it. "Meg," he decided on. "And she lives… out of town."
Yori snorted again. "Out of town." He looked to Leah. "Tomorrow night, then?"
"Tomorrow night's great!" she laughed, then smiled at Bucky. "It doesn't have to be a date."
Bucky frowned, then remembered Raynor's words. You need friendships. He sighed, then looked up at Leah. "Alright, but on a platonic basis only," he said, pointing for emphasis.
She nodded, still smiling. "Just… maybe not pinochle."
"What's wrong with pinochle?" Bucky asked, head tilted.
"Yeah," Yori added.
She laughed. "I have a shift, but if you want to come back here, I should be done around 10." She went to head back into the kitchen, but called over her shoulder: "Friends only!"
Bucky looked to Yori, who was doing a shot of sake. "I can't believe you did that," he hissed. "Even if I did want a date, there's a dance to these things. You can't… you gotta warm up."
"Oh? Is that how you did it with your girlfriend?"
"She's real," Bucky said warningly. "And… well no, actually. She made the first move." His mouth ticked up at the memory. She'd called him from 500 miles away, and invited him to her Fuck You, HYDRA party. And she'd shown up in that dress, and she'd juggled on the street corner as he'd stared at her struck dumb with affection, and then she'd let him take her dancing and she'd set her hand on his cheek and kissed him and asked how the hell are you meant to breathe?
Yori watched Bucky's face. "Maybe she is real," he said speculatively. Then shrugged. "You need more friends anyway."
"That's what everyone keeps telling me," he grumbled.
And then Yori went silent, transfixed by the red bean mochi on the countertop.
And he began talking about his son.
Maggie was in the garage of Pepper's house with Morgan, deconstructed engine parts laid carefully around them on a sheet as Dum-E and U supervised, bleeping and spinning their clawed heads. Morgan had a wrench in one hand as she carefully detached the cylinder head from the exhaust manifold, Maggie occasionally murmuring an instruction.
Her phone rang, and she checked the caller ID to see Bucky's name. "One second, Morrigan." She kissed her niece on her head of dark hair. "Pause there for now."
For a moment Morgan's fist closed reflexively on the bottom of Maggie's shirt. "No, stay here," she commanded.
Maggie gently touched Morgan's hand. "I'm not leaving, sugar, I'm just answering the phone." Morgan had been anxiously protective over her since Westview - as much as she was a young prodigy, she still did not understand how she had forgotten about her aunt for almost two weeks.
After a moment, Morgan nodded.
Maggie picked up the phone as she took a few steps away. "Hey, handsome. Morgan says hi."
Bucky smiled. "Hi, Morgan."
He listened as Maggie passed the greeting on, her voice muffled.
"How's life in the big city?"
"Yori talked about his son at lunch. And I still didn't say anything."
"Oh, Bucky," she sighed. A few moments passed as she had a muffled conversation with Morgan. It sounded like there was bargaining. Seconds later, he heard the soft sound of a door shutting and she resumed the conversation. "And therapy didn't help?"
"She took my phone, called me a loner and said I needed friends."
She paused. "I mean…"
He groaned. "Not you, too!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she laughed. "I just mean that… I don't know, I know the path you're on is important. Redemption is important. But you're free now." He blinked; she'd unconsciously echoed Raynor. "It used to be just us, on the run, against the world. But we always hoped that one day it might be us, in the world. We wanted to make friends, to be… to be people. I had a taste of that at the Facility, only…" she trailed off, and Bucky knew what she was thinking. Vision. And Steve and Nat, later. "Well, I've got Rhodey, and other more long distance friends."
Bucky wasn't sure if she was talking about Rocket and his crew, or Bruce, or someone else.
"I want that for you. I want you to find people who understand you, who you want to spend time with." He could feel her working hard not to mention Sam.
He sighed. "Well, on that note, Yori set me up on a date."
She laughed, which he really should have expected. "Oh yeah? Similar age bracket, or are you going for the younger ladies still?"
He rolled his eyes. Jealousy had never really been their language. "The waitress at Izzy's. I've made it very clear that I've got a girlfriend, but they didn't believe me, doll, they think I'm fibbing about having a gorgeous rich girlfriend out of town."
She was still laughing. "You could tell them who I am, I don't mind!"
"Then they'd believe me even less!"
She laughed some more, and Bucky waited with raised eyebrows.
"You should go," she finally said. "It could be good."
He sighed.
"You should bring flowers."
"I'm trying to make the point that it's not a date, doll. You should be backing me on this."
"Friendly flowers."
Delacroix, Louisiana
"Sam, the boat's gotta go."
Sam hated that tired look in Sarah's eyes; she wouldn't just let him be her older brother. They were technically the same age now, due to the Blip. "Wait-"
"No, let me finish. I'm doing everything I can to keep this business afloat, and everyday I'm spending 10 and making 5."
New York City
"Well if that's not the most adorably old fashioned thing anyone's ever done," Leah smiled when Bucky handed her the bouquet of daisies he'd bought from the florists down the block.
Bucky swallowed down the urge to blurt Meg told me to.
"Grab a seat, I'll be done in a few," she nodded at the bar and disappeared into the kitchen. Bucky looked around. The restaurant had looked like a neon glow from the dark street outside, but now he was inside it seemed dimmer than usual, and obviously much emptier. It didn't have the loud bustle that it did during the day.
"So, tell me about your girlfriend," Leah said once she'd returned, a twinkle in her eye as she opened a pair of beers. "Did you meet her before or after half the fish in the sea came back?"
"Uh… before," he said, accepting a beer. "Been about… wow, nine years now." His eyebrows lifted. "Although it's more like four, since the blip doesn't really… count."
"Ah," she winced. "You got blipped, too?" He nodded. "And she…?" He shook his head. "Damn. She waited for you though, that's romantic."
He nodded silently. There'd been plenty of stories about partners moving on, getting married and having kids with new people, only for their lost loved one to return. He'd asked Meg and tried to reassure her that it was okay if she'd found someone else, but… well. Bucky knew he wouldn't have moved on either.
"Sorry," Leah winced again. "So awkward to bring up the Blip these days."
"It's alright," he shook his head.
"Do you have any pictures together?"
"She's real," he said warningly.
"Alright, alright, I believe you," she laughed. "Show me."
Bucky hesitated. "I… we do." He thought of the photobooth pictures from another lifetime; they'd been recovered from the smoking ruin of the Avengers Facility, and were currently framed in their house. He saw the look in Leah's eye. "Not on my phone, though. Not really a… a selfie kind of guy." He made a face.
We should get some pictures together.
She laughed. "You sound just like my dad." She cocked her head. "Wait, how old are you?"
"Hundred and six," he replied, deadpan.
She paused for a moment, eyebrows high, then burst into laughter.
He joined in after a moment, eyes darting away.
"What's up with your gloves?"
Bucky looked at the leather gloves on his hands. Ah. "I um, hm… have uh… poor circulation."
"Huh."
He looked away, sweeping the windows and the street outside out of habit. The back of his neck felt hot; he knew that sitting here like a lump letting her ask all the questions was not a good way to make friends. But at the same time, he'd had less intense interrogations.
"Let's play a game," she said, reaching down to a shelf. "You like games?"
"Yup, love em."
She broke out a game of battleship and they played a few rounds, taking a drink for each loss. She commented on how well he seemed to be handling his drink, another question he had to dodge.
"Do you have any siblings?"
"I have sisters," he murmured. "F-4".
Only one left. Meg had brought him to see Shirley only a week after Westview, saying it was long overdue. Shirley had been blipped, which was… probably the only reason she was still alive to see him. She'd cupped his face and cried, and said I knew you'd come home. He saw her every other weekend now in her home in Connecticut. She got on with Meg like a house on fire, and liked to text him memes that he didn't get.
"Miss," Leah said, shaking him back to the present. "Drink. Are you close with your parents?"
"I was. They, uh… passed away. Um, D-5."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she says. "Um, miss." A beat passed and she looked up from the game. "I think it's really sweet you're spending time with Yori. It's been hard for him since his son died. I think not knowing how it happened is the hardest part for him. It really messed him up." Bucky's skin crawled and he felt his focus drifting, his memories slipping. She continued, oblivious: "You know how you call a guy who's wife died a widower, or if your parents die, you're an orphan. You know, there's no word for someone whose kids die. Because it's the worst thing that can happen."
Bucky's skin flashed hot, then cold. He drew in a fortifying breath.
"Excuse me," he managed to mumble, then pushed out of his seat and made for the door.
"You good?" Leah called after him.
But Bucky was already gone.
In a haze, Bucky made his way to Yori's front door. Yori answered, warm and concerned and lit from behind by the candles around his son's picture. Bucky's courage failed again, and he pressed a wad of cash into Yori's hand and vanished back into the dark safety of his own apartment.
He texted Meg: Home now. Headed to bed.
Only moments later his phone buzzed and lit up: Incoming call from: Meg. Her contact picture on his phone was of her standing knee-deep in the lake, a huge sunhat on her head and a dripping-wet Artemis in her arms soaking her top, her face open in laughter. The picture always made him smile.
He picked up after a couple rings.
"How was your date," she said by way of greeting, and he could practically hear her eyebrows waggling.
He tried to smile, but he still had Leah's words in his head: Because it's the worst thing that can happen.
"I…"
"What's wrong?" He could hear rustling as she sat up in bed.
"It's… it was fine, I - I'm an antisocial asshole who doesn't ask other people questions, but that's not it." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Meg."
"You're trying to made amends," she said softly.
"I'm not, though. I'm just sitting here like a leech, in his life."
"What's prompted this?"
"Leah, she… she sees me as this bleeding heart who's spending time with Yori just to be a good person. She knows him well, she…"
"In a way, you are," Meg murmured. "And I know you don't need me to remind you, but you are a victim of this, too. This is your trauma you're digging into, as much as anyone else's."
"But I didn't lose anyone like Yori lost his son." Bucky's voice cracked, and he closed his eyes.
"You lost yourself," Meg murmured. "For seventy years. And I'm not saying that's equal to a human life. To a hundred human lives. But… it means something."
"I don't know how you did this," he sat down heavily on his couch and clutched his head. "In front of the world in a courtroom."
"I know how I did it," she murmured. "I didn't do it alone."
A long pause passed.
"And neither will you."
After a few more soft-murmured words in the darkness, they hung up and went to bed. But even as Bucky rolled into his blanket-and-pillow arrangement on the floor, he couldn't get Raynor's words out of his head:
She cannot be the only person in your life.
Maggie frowned at the blank screen of her phone for almost an hour. Then she drew in a sharp breath, climbed out of bed, put on her prosthetic leg, and got dressed. She padded downstairs in the dead of the night darkness, left the house, and crunched across the gravel driveway to her car. The automatic lights seemed harsh and glaring when she opened the door and sat in the driver's seat.
She sat there, gripping the wheel, for what felt like an eternity.
Then she closed her eyes, got out, and went back inside the house.
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