Chapter 2. This F*cking Life

June, 2011. Afghanistan

It was hot and Sergeant Bucky Barnes finished his fifth 2 litre bottle of water of the morning as he lay on his bunk. When he signed up for this after September 11 happened, he thought he would be out there finding and destroying the Taliban. Once he was in Afghanistan he found out quickly it wasn't just one group that were Taliban. There were many warlords, chieftains, and drug lords, and all of them were angry at their country being occupied once more. Most of them were also at war with each other. The enemy always changed. The heat and the dust were ever present and he could hardly wait for this tour to end so he could go back home and try to start his life again. He pulled his wallet out and looked at the picture of Natasha and him at their wedding in January of 2003. They were just dating when he signed up within days of the attack on New York. After a year of training he asked her to marry him and like every optimistic 19 year old woman in love with an almost 20 year old boy who thought he was a man she said yes. They lasted three years which was two and half years longer than most people gave them. When he was back on his second leave she told him she was done. The divorce papers had come a month later and he signed them, knowing she needed a husband who was there for her. She married Bruce within a year, had a kid and another on the way. He went to tear the picture up but he couldn't do it and he put it back inside his wallet.

"Hey Barnes," he heard a voice and he looked up to see Staff Sergeant Brock Rumlow.

"Yeah Sarge," he replied standing up. "What can I do for you?"

"Wilson is sick and we need another Sergeant for this patrol," said Rumlow. "You in?"

"Sure, I'll just get my gear on," said Barnes. "Does the LT know?"

"Yup, just told him. Wheels up in 30 mikes," said Rumlow.

Thirty minutes later he was boarding the helicopter along with three squads. Rumlow was leading Alpha squad, Rollins was leading Bravo and he was leading Charlie. It was a patrol of a fairly large village. Normally only one squad would do it but there had been reports of Taliban infiltrating the village and forcing the villagers to house them. This mission was to spook the Taliban out into the open and deal with them the only way they understood...at the end of a gun barrel. They landed about 100 yards outside the village and undertook standard operating tactics as they spread out and searched it. There was no sign of any problems and most of the villagers stayed indoors and allowed them to do their thing of knocking on random doors and seeing what transpired. The sound of machine guns at the part of the village where Alpha squad was put Barnes on alert and he told his squad to hold while he confirmed the situation. Rumlow asked for support and Bucky responded they were on the way. They reached Rumlow's squad a few minutes later. Three of his guys were injured and they were unable to advance on the house. Rumlow wanted to go in with all guns firing and take out the shooters inside.

"Sarge, you know we have to evacuate the houses nearby so we don't accidentally kill any civilians," said Barnes. "Let my squad take care of that and then we'll go in together."

"Barnes, this order has been given by higher ups," he replied. "We take that house now. Civilians have been through this before. They'll keep their heads down. Now, go take that house while I regroup my men."

Sighing Barnes signalled his men to prepare to take the house on Staff Sergeant Rumlow's orders. Taking their time they got into position and he gave the signal by kicking in the door and opening fire on what were supposed to be Taliban. His men came in behind him and from the back door. There was no one in the house, except for two children lying on the floor with their eyes open but not moving.

"Shit," swore Barnes, slinging his rifle and checking the pulses on the necks of the two kids.

The realization hit him that they were already dead.

"Fuck, Barnes, what did you do?" screamed Rumlow, who was standing in the doorway. "This isn't the house you were supposed to hit. It was the one next door."

"You're a fucking liar, Rumlow," said Barnes. "This is the house you wanted me to hit. These two were already dead. Their bodies are cold. Why are you lying?"

The two men started tussling and were pulled apart by their squads. Rollins reported they were taking fire at the edge of the village and Rumlow pulled himself away, responding that he was on his way. He ordered two of Barnes men to hold him for arrest and take him to the extraction point then he led the rest of the men out. Barnes looked at his two men.

"You were right behind me," he said. "I aimed higher than these kids. Feel them, they're already cold. I've been set up."

"Sorry Sarge, please don't make this harder than it has to be," said Private Haines.

Private Warren kneeled down and double checked the pulses. "He's right Haines, these kids have been dead a while," he said. "Something's not right. I heard Rumlow tell him to take this house."

"Fuck," said Haines. "Warren, don't say anything until we talk to the LT. Come on Sarge, we'll get you out of this."

The three of them said nothing and when Barnes was taken into custody back at the base both privates went to find Lieutenant Rogers. He wasn't in his office but Sergeant Wilson was in his bunk. Knowing he was an upright guy they both went to him and told him about what they had found out. He swore them to secrecy and said the LT was at division headquarters until the next day. That night the base was attacked and a mortar shell went off near two of the men who had taken cover, Privates Haines and Warren. Both were declared dead, killed in action. When Lieutenant Rogers returned and learned his old friend Barnes had been arrested for killing two civilian children he spoke to him immediately. Barnes told him about the bodies being cold and Rumlow telling him that particular house was the target. Both could be verified by Haines and Warren. Sergeant Wilson, who had come into the stockade with Rogers looked sadly at his friend.

"Buck, they were killed in the attack last night," said Wilson. "They told me but because I wasn't there I can't be a witness as it's hearsay. I'm sorry."

"Look, we'll both testify for you, for your character," said Rogers. "We all know Rumlow is the biggest asshole around. He's burned a lot of bridges. We'll get the best lawyer in JAG, I promise. We'll fight this, Buck."

Day Before Thanksgiving, 2021. Brooklyn

He knew it was a dream. It was the same dream he'd had off and on for ten years, bursting through the door of the house and finding the two dead kids on the dirt floor of their house in Afghanistan. The prison therapist had told him to try and change something, anything in the dream so that he was the one in control. It never worked because each dream ended the same.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, you have been sentenced to one year in detention in the United States Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth for the unnecessary deaths of Abdul-Ali Gaba and Abdul-Bari Gaba, after failing to clear an area of civilian targets. Additionally you have been given a dishonourable discharge from the army and have lost all benefits permanently."

At the end of each dream he would wake up on the floor, where he would always end up because the bed was too soft, or too warm. He would always wake up screaming that he didn't do it but it didn't matter because in the eyes of military law he did do it and he had been fairly judged and sentenced. When he woke up this time he got up off the bedroom floor, went to the kitchen, opened the cupboard above his fridge pulling out the bottle of cheap scotch and emptying the last of the bottle into a glass. He downed it in one gulp, feeling the burn down his throat. Then he went to the bathroom, relieving himself. Looking at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands he sighed. This fucking life. He went back into his bedroom and laid in the bed for a while but he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep so he got up, pulled on a T-shirt and his jeans then opened his window to sit on the fire escape and watch for the coming sunrise. Except it was only 22 degrees out and he closed the window in frustration. Finally he turned on the TV and scrolled through the meagre listings of the cable package he could afford. Treasure of the Sierra Madre was on. A Bogie movie. He turned it on and mindlessly watched it as he opened his last bottle of scotch and poured himself half a glass. This one he sipped, realizing that unless he got another client this would be his last bottle of scotch for some time. By the time he finished the glass his head was on the armrest, his eyes closed and he slept dreamlessly.

He was awakened by his cell phone ringing and he lazily picked up, without noting the caller, and answered in a sleepy voice. "Bucky Barnes," he said, looking at the clock on the microwave and seeing it was after 10 am.

"Bucky, it's Mom," said a voice that sounded like she was hiding in the garage. "I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you this Thanksgiving."

"Thanks, Mom," he said quietly as he sat up, rubbing his neck where it was sore. "Are you in the garage?"

"No, the garden shed," she said. "Your dad is working on the car in the garage. I wish you two would talk."

"So do I," said Bucky. "But he made it very clear after my court martial that he didn't have a son any more. He didn't believe me, that I wouldn't do that. So, until something changes I guess you're the only one, well you and Becks, who still believe in me."

"How's work?" she asked.

"You know, up and down," he replied. "More down lately but it's holiday season and things usually pick up, lost pets, cheating spouses, office embezzlements."

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she said, stifling a little sob. "It breaks my heart to hear you're still struggling. Did you file another appeal?"

"No, I can't afford it," he admitted. "I've reached the end of the line on that." He sighed. "How's Natasha? I heard she had another baby. That's number four, isn't it?"

"A boy," she said. "She's happy but she worries about you as well. She wanted your address to send you a card but I said that even I don't have it."

"She's better off with Bruce," he said, choking down the sob that wanted to break out of his throat. "Research scientist/doctor is a lot better than dishonourably discharged army vet turned unsuccessful private investigator." In his mind he added borderline alcoholic.

There was no sound at the other end and he realized his mother was crying. "Mom, please don't cry," he said. "I appreciate you calling, I really do. You give Rebecca a hug for me. I think about you both a lot. As for Dad...well, I can always hope that one day he'll realize he should have believed me. I have to go. I love you Mom."

"I love you sweetheart," she said, stopping her tears long enough to say the words.

He put his cell phone down and wiped his face, then got a tissue and blew his nose. There were three times of the year that his mother phoned him, Thanksgiving, Christmas and his birthday. Each time they both cried and he felt like telling her not to phone anymore but the truth was he needed to hear his mother's voice. It reminded him that someone loved him, despite what he had been accused and found guilty of doing. After washing up and getting fully dressed Bucky headed out for his favourite deli. The owner greeted him and asked if he wanted his usual. Bucky nodded and asked for a coffee as well. He paid and looked around for an empty table. He sat and checked his cell phone to see if there had been any requests on the website for a private investigator. Someone wanted to know how much to take pictures of his cheating girlfriend so Bucky gave him the going rate. Another was trying to track down a relative but the way they worded it raised questions and he turned them down, thinking it was an abusive husband looking for the wife who had finally got the nerve to leave him. That was it, two inquiries. The server brought his sandwich and coffee over and he thanked her, smiling kindly. Just as he took a bite of the sandwich a man he really didn't want to see sat down in the chair opposite him.

"Barnes," said the man, someone who was often seen hanging around the base in Afghanistan and rumoured then to be in the CIA.

"Barton," he said, after he finished chewing. "I really wanted to enjoy this sandwich but seeing you took all the enjoyment out of the experience."

"Right," laughed Barton. "That looks good. Can you really afford to eat out?"

"What do you want?" asked Barnes, taking another bite.

"The usual," he replied. "Come to work with me. You'll get paid very well. We don't care about your past. You have the skills we are looking for."

"No thanks," said Barnes. "I'm not a killer. I wasn't when I was in the army and I'm definitely not now."

"I don't know," said Barton. "A guy with your record? The army doesn't make many mistakes."

Barnes almost spit out his coffee. "You're kidding, right?" he replied. "They make Brock Fucking Rumlow a Staff Sergeant and they believe him when he says I murdered two kids in cold blood?" Barnes had said the last part of the sentence in a whisper. "I didn't kill them."

"Your word against his," said Barnes. "I read the transcript. Although it was interesting that the two witnesses that could have corroborated your account were killed that same night in an attack on the base."

"Convenient, huh?" said Barnes with venom.

"Absolutely," said Barton. "Especially when you consider there were no Taliban in the vicinity of the base that night, at least none according to our sources. Funny how your lawyer didn't bring that up." Barton let that sink in then stood up and pulled his card out of his wallet. "I'm serious," he said. "We could use a man of your talents and integrity, believe it or not. When you want to talk, call me."

He dropped his card on the table and walked out. Barnes finished his sandwich looking at that card with both anger and interest. It was true, he was almost at the point where he would entertain just about anything to make a living. Being dishonourably discharged made it difficult to work in any law abiding job. Even a job as a dishwasher was considered too good for a man with his record. His private investigator licence was probationary, had been for nine years. Despite never doing anything illegal or immoral in those nine years the licensing body just wouldn't give him the permanent licence he needed to get the better jobs. He stood up, wiping his mouth with the serviette and left the table, took two steps and returned to pick up Barton's card, putting it in his wallet. Just in case.

He returned home and picked up his gym bag then headed over to Ray's Gym for a workout. He often sparred for Ray, picking up pocket money that had tided him over more than once. After changing into his sweats he began warming up with some jump rope, then he went to the speed bag for 3 minutes, shadow boxing, then time on the heavy bag. After he took the gloves off he did squat thrusts, lunge thrusts and lateral hops. He did pushups until he couldn't anymore then did a circuit of lifts with the dumbbells. A series of sit-ups finished him and he laid on his back looking up at the lights until he felt like getting up and hitting the showers.

"Barnes, 20 bucks to spar with this guy for 10 minutes?" yelled Ray just as he was going into the locker room.

Bucky looked at the guy and nodded. Ray set him up with gloves, a groin guard, and a helmet then patted him on the back. The guy lasted 5 minutes and wanted to only pay 10 but Ray said the offer was for twenty and it wasn't Bucky's fault that he was the better boxer. After he changed he went to the liquor store and got another bottle of scotch. He put the ten dollars in change in his wallet and went home. While there his phone rang and he saw it was Steve. Sighing he answered it.

"Hey," he answered. "What's up?"

"Come for dinner," said Steve. "Peggy's making roast beef and she always makes too much. We haven't seen each other much lately. Thought you might like to catch up."

"You offering me charity now, Steve?" said Bucky flippantly and immediately regretted it. "Sorry, tough day. I talked to my mom."

"She cried again, didn't she?" asked Steve. "Shit... Buck, come, please. When my mom died you were there for me. Let me pay you back every once in a while."

"Yeah, okay," he replied. "What time? And you better have the good scotch."

"Six," said Steve. "If you get pissed you're sleeping over. Peggy says to bring your laundry as well."

Bucky snorted and said he would be there. If Steve had the good scotch he fully intended to get drunk. Thank God Peggy liked him for some odd reason as he couldn't imagine many wives putting up with their husband's best friend getting drunk every time he came over for dinner. It would take him an hour to get there so he had to get going pretty soon. He looked at his T-shirt and realized he had a mustard stain on it so he peeled it off and put on another shirt. Then he gathered up his dirty clothes and stuffed them into a back pack.

An hour later he pulled into their driveway and a small blond boy ran out the front door and tackled him as he walked up the sidewalk.

"Uncle Bucky, guess what?" said Jimmy. "We're getting a dog. For reals."

"That's awesome J," replied Bucky, picking the boy up and carrying him football style to the front door where he let him down easily. Peggy came to kiss Bucky on the cheek and relieve him of his back pack while Steve picked up Jimmy and carried him into the living room. Little dark haired Sarah was on her hands and knees on the carpet. Bucky stood over her then bent down and picked her up.

"Hi Princess," he said warmly as he kissed her cheeks.

She babbled happily and then placed her chubby hands on his cheeks smacking them as he blew them up and deflated them. Shrieking in happiness she continued on for several minutes before she tired of it and reached for her dad.

"She didn't forget me this time," noted Bucky as he sat on the sofa where Jimmy climbed onto his lap to show him a book.

"Come more often and she'll never forget you," said Steve.

"You working tomorrow?" asked Bucky.

"Yep," replied Steve. "That's why we're having roast beef tonight. I know, I'm weird because I don't like turkey."

Peggy called them for dinner. Steve took Sarah while Bucky took his namesake Jimmy and put him in his booster seat. A quick grace was said and the food was handed around. As the dinner went on Bucky found himself laughing at Jimmy's antics and sayings. Even Sarah was sweet and Bucky found himself tickling her on several occasions. He and Steve cleaned up the dishes while Peggy got the kids ready for their baths. Bucky sat and looked through some of Steve's art books while Steve and Peggy read them bedtime stories and tucked them in. They came out to the living room together with the good bottle of scotch and three glasses.

"You're partaking?" asked Bucky.

"I'm not nursing anymore so yes I am partaking," she replied, as Steve poured her a third of a glass which she sipped and smiled dreamily as it flowed down her throat. "That's good."

"So what did Barton have to say?" asked Steve. "Sam and I were driving by the deli and waiting at the light."

"His usual offer and a bit of information," replied Bucky. "He said according to CIA sources there were no Taliban in the vicinity of the base on the night of the attack."

"Seriously?" asked Steve. "He said those exact words?"

"Pretty much," replied Bucky. "Then he left me his card. This time I took it."

"Bucky, is it as bad as that?" asked Peggy, in her British accent. "I know it's hard to get decent work but not even as a private investigator?"

"Probationary licence," he replied. "To most people that means I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground."

"You know, I still have some contacts in the Defence Intelligence Agency in London," she offered. "I could verify that Taliban information."

"Sure, what the hell," said Bucky running his finger around the top of his glass. "He probably lied to try and seal the deal."

There was silence between them for a few minutes then Bucky mentioned Natasha had a baby boy according to his mother. Steve nodded his head then cleared his throat.

"We had word of an altercation involving Brock Rumlow last night," said Steve. "Was at a club with his girlfriend and punched out some guy who was dancing too close to her. What a piece of work he is."

"Making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year as private security," mentioned Bucky. "Yeah, what a loser."

Peggy drained her glass and kissed Steve on the lips then kissed Bucky on the cheek. "Don't stay up too late," she said before going to bed. "Steve has to be at work at seven."

Steve brought up a list of movies to watch. As childhood friends they had gone to the movies together many times. Ever since Bucky was in military prison he had developed a taste for old movies. They flicked through the titles and then decided on D.O.A., about a man who discovers he has been poisoned and has 24 hours before he dies to find out who the killer is. As it started Bucky noted it was considered to be a classic of the film noir genre. Steve drank little but he kept pouring for Bucky who kept up a running commentary on the film.

"Since when did you become a film expert?" asked Steve, grinning at his friend.

"Since the only entertainment I had for a full year were black and white movies from the 40s and 50s," he said, slurring his words. "That's all we got at Leavenworth. They thought it was punishment but for me it was magic. I love old movies, Steve. Everything is black and white...no fucking shades of grey."

Bucky passed out on the couch and Steve stopped the movie. He leaned over and picked Bucky up, groaning at the weight. For a guy skinnier than him Bucky carried a lot of muscle. Shifting him to over his shoulder Steve carried him up the stairs to their spare room. He laid him on the bed, pulling off his socks and jeans, and pulled the duvet over him. Then Steve left the room, closing the door and cleaned up the glasses, put away the scotch and turned out the lights. Peggy was still awake and he spooned behind her, kissing her neck.

"You're a good friend, Rogers," she said, patting his cheek with her hand. "He needs good friends. I'm going to find out what Barton is really up to and check out that Taliban report."

"Would you?" said Steve. "We supposedly had the best JAG lawyer with Jasper Sitwell and yet he really pushed Bucky to plead guilty and take a lesser sentence. Didn't even try to poke holes in Rumlow's testimony. If it's true there was no Taliban activity then who attacked the base and killed the only witnesses that could corroborate Bucky's testimony? It's never sat well with me. You know Sitwell's been named the Police Commissioner? They're announcing it Monday."

"Interesting," said Peggy, turning her head to kiss Steve.

He kissed her back and they faced each other taking it to the next level. With two small children they took their opportunities when they could. Steve still made it to work on time.