Chapter 2. Recognition
For a couple of weeks Staring Man didn't seem to be around. The Flag Smashers went quiet again. That Zemo guy was captured and sent to a different high security prison. The new Captain America had disgraced his position when he killed a man in front of many witnesses, using the shield as his weapon, in a disgusting display of violence. As much as Joyce didn't like the man, she felt a little sorry for him. It was obvious, even with all of his training and previous citations that he was troubled, probably suffering from PTSD himself. How those in charge could have missed those warning signs when they vetted him said more about them than it did about him. As a soldier used to taking orders, he probably felt compelled to take on the mantle of Captain America, despite the problems he was facing. It was a bad business, all around.
There were rumours about the shield, as Walker, when he was arrested didn't have it, and wouldn't say how he lost it, or how he broke his arm. Obviously, someone fought him for it, but who? Despite repeated government requests sent out through the media whoever had the shield wasn't giving it up.
With spring firmly in place in Brooklyn, Joyce was sitting at a table in the coffeehouse, a coffee in front of her, her back to the wall so she could check out the people who entered, deciding if they were worth observing. On this day, the Staring Man, Bucky, entered, looked left, then looked right and their eyes met. There was the slightest nod of recognition from him then he placed his order, and she heard him say his name when he was asked, Bucky. It was like a flash of lightning hit Joyce as she suddenly realized who he was. In fact, she berated herself for not figuring it out sooner, especially once Yori told her his name.
His look had changed from the footage of him when he was still the Winter Soldier. At that time his messy long hair had been combined with his chilling facial mask, designed to hide his true identity, resulting in a terrifying figure. Detractors said it was obvious he wanted his identity to be kept secret. Why else would he choose to wear a mask? When the HYDRA files were leaked, shortly after he went underground, it was obvious it wasn't his choice to wear it. It was a muzzle, those thugs wanting to keep him unknown and unrecognized so no one would realize he was a captive, a brainwashed one who killed for them, but a captive, nonetheless. Everything about his look, including his black clothing was meant to instil fear, a propaganda tool used often by authoritarian regimes.
Realizing who Bucky was explained everything that previously puzzled Joyce about him. The gloves - to hide the metal hand, the dark clothing - likely a defensive measure to minimize his appearance, which was difficult because he was a big man, over six feet and easily 200 pounds. She was pretty confident in her guess about his size, having had a lot of experience gauging people's heights and weights due to the constant exposure to student athletes at the high school she had worked at. The hair, now cut short, was likely a throwback to the short styles of the 1940s, perhaps part of an attempt to reclaim his original identity. The notebook likely had something to do with the reported court ordered therapy he was required to take, perhaps notes or questions for his therapist, or maybe reminders of things that had changed. The anger evident in his manner after Sam Wilson gave up the shield ... it all made sense now.
On this day, when he acknowledged Joyce and she heard his name, she was surprised when he sat at the open table next to her, after claiming his drink. He glanced at the book she was reading, smiled again, and took a drink of his coffee. His phone came out of his pocket, and surprisingly to Joyce it was a smartphone, not his usual flip phone. Taking his right glove off he began looking things up. She returned her focus to her book, then heard him clear his throat as if he wanted to say something to her. Putting her bookmark in place she looked over at him. Up close he was definitely a good-looking man, much better than from afar.
"Yori Nakajima said you used to be a school librarian," he began. "I was wondering if you could help me. I'm Bucky, by the way."
He offered his right hand to her, and she shook his without hesitation. "Joyce Franklin," she replied. "Yori approached me a couple of weeks ago to ask if you could talk to me. I was surprised he remembered my name as I haven't been to the coffee gathering for quite a while."
"Yeah, he doesn't go much either," grinned Bucky. "Says they're all a bunch of old people complaining about how things have changed."
She laughed, a genuine one from the gut. It was true. That's why she stopped going, listening to all that negativity was draining of a person.
"You're probably the only person who can legitimately say that," she replied, then glanced at his phone. "But you do seem to be trying."
"You know who I am?" She nodded at his surprised look. "Don't say anything to Yori. He hasn't made the connection."
He looked a little pensive as he spoke, and Joyce got a feeling there was a reason he didn't want Nakajima to know but she didn't press the issue.
"Not my business to share," she said. "Now, how can I help you?"
"I want to get my High School Equivalency Diploma by taking the GED test." He recited the phrase as if he had memorized it. "I just don't quite understand how I go about it. I need help and figure that even retired librarians still help students, don't they?"
"You don't have a high school diploma?" she asked, although it wasn't uncommon even in these modern times.
"I quit school in 1933 to work on the docks," he replied, looking embarrassed. "I was 16, it was the Depression, and the money was needed to help my family. I always intended to go back but the money was good, then the war happened then ... you know."
It almost broke Joyce's heart to see this obviously intelligent man asking for help to get his high school diploma. It was likely he was trying to accomplish some positive things in his life.
"I'm not a teacher," she explained, "but I know some retired ones that can tutor you in the areas you'll need. I imagine the curriculum has changed a lot since the 1930s. It's all online now, you realize that."
"I don't have a computer," he said. "Still not comfortable with them, to be honest, although I'm okay with a tablet but the website doesn't display properly on it sometimes. Maybe it's the settings on it or something. If I could borrow yours and you guide me through the process, I could pay you for your time. It's hard for me to meet new people to ask for help. I only spoke to you because I saw you and Yori say hi a few times and I asked him about you."
She thought for a moment. "Why don't you hit up a bookstore and see if they have some print guides for getting your GED? That way, you could get an idea of what to prepare for. Bucky, it's not rocket science."
He smiled slightly. "Might as well be. Please, I just need someone who can help me through it."
She didn't know if it was something about women her age being asked so nicely by a good-looking man his age, but she considered it. How could she say no?
"Okay, hypothetically say I help you." He was watching her intently. "Do you want to have a regular time or keep it flexible?"
A crease appeared in the space above his nose, between his eyes.
"Both?" He moved slightly closer as if to make sure no one else could eavesdrop. "My life is kind of in flex right now. I have therapy appointments and I try to be available for Yori. You must know how he can be sometimes. Plus, the Flag Smashers are still out there. I have no idea of the time frame to accomplish this." His voice trailed off.
"Were you in Europe to deal with the Flag Smashers?" she asked.
"Yeah, I was working with Sam Wilson on it," he said. "Didn't do a good job of it. Too many people who shouldn't have been involved in any of it. They made things worse."
His face was grim when he said that and immediately Joyce knew he had probably been there when John Walker killed that Flag Smasher. After all he had been through, as Winter Soldier, and with Thanos, the fact that he was involved in trying to stop a misguided terrorist group from hurting anyone was admirable, in Joyce's eyes.
"That's the beauty of the program," said Joyce, kindly. "You kind of work at your own pace. That's why getting a recent guide from the library would help as you can take a practice test and see where your deficiencies are. That way you can focus your attention on them."
Although he accepted her answer he seemed a little underwhelmed by it, and she realized he might not have many friends. Other than Yori she couldn't recall seeing him with anyone else. Maybe this was also his way of reaching out to make her acquaintance. Helping him achieve a goal was easily something she could do, and it would pass the time.
"Alright," she said firmly. "I'll help you. I'm not sure how much help I'll be but hey, we can figure it out as we go along."
He gave her an incredible smile and Joyce felt her heart melt at the sight of it. Maybe being around him wasn't going to be a chore and the part of her that liked the attention wondered what her girlfriends would say when she told them she was helping Bucky Barnes. Sitting back in his chair he seemed to relax considerably as he sipped his coffee. Joyce took a drink of hers.
"Since we're going to be working together, I have a confession to make," said Joyce. "I've been observing you."
"I know," he replied, still looking ahead. "In my previous life I had to be aware of my surroundings, including knowing when I was being watched." She turned towards him, with a look bordering on surprise, which brought a little smile to his face. "When I found out about you being a high school librarian, I attributed your interest in me to being an observer of people because of your profession. Certainly, the librarians in my high school seemed to know almost everything that went on in that space."
"We try," she commented. "I wasn't trying to stick my nose into your business. I didn't even realize exactly who you were until you came in here today. Since I retired, I watch people, everybody. But you were interesting."
"What did you decide about me?" he asked, turning to gaze on her with those incredible blue eyes.
"You were ex-military, suffering from PTSD, a little technology phobic but not completely, introverted, but kind," she replied. "I didn't do so bad."
He grinned. "You did pretty good, actually. Not sure how kind I am. I tend to be short with people. According to Sam I can be intimidating."
"There is that," smiled Joyce. "That one day here in the coffee shop when that one guy made sure we all knew he was being held up by the slowness of the lineup you said something to him that brought fear to his eyes. He deserved it, too, the asshole."
Bucky smirked then looked at Joyce. "I might have to reassess my knowledge of librarians," he said. "Don't recall any of them swearing."
"You'd be surprised," she answered. "You know that especially in the public library sector, librarians have been the guardians of free speech, fighting against the censorship of what people can read. After September 11, they even fought a provision in the Patriot Act that would have forced libraries to disclose what their patrons were reading, or even looking up to consider reading. Even while it was being discussed libraries across the country turned off the setting in their library programs that kept track of what people were reading just so they could say, if ordered, that they couldn't provide that information."
"Freedom fighters?" He smiled, amused. "I'm impressed. You know, I missed out on a lot of living." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a little blue notebook. "I've been writing down things I should do. Getting my GED is one of them but there's other things on the list."
"Kind of a bucket list?" asked Joyce. "That's usually something people my age do. Then again, you are technically a lot older than me."
He chuckled. "Yeah, technically. I feel it some days when I'm trying to figure out this century. Do you have a bucket list?"
"I should," she admitted. She looked away. "I'm not done living yet and there are some things I want to do but they're hard without a partner. I'm a widow."
"Yori said that. I'm sorry. How long were you married?"
"40 years. He died in 2017, just after Christmas. He was 66, had only retired six months before." Bucky gave her a sad smile. "I've seen you with another little notebook, a tan coloured one."
Bucky looked uncomfortable for a moment then sighed. "That's a different list," he said. "I don't feel comfortable discussing it in the open so if you don't mind ..."
"I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries," stammered Joyce. "It's really none of my business. Honestly, I thought it was part of any therapy you would be taking for your PTSD. Affirmations, that sort of thing."
He smirked again. "Sort of, but maybe once we get to know each other better I'll be more comfortable talking about it." He drained his coffee and stood up, offering Joyce his hand. "It's been a pleasure to meet you."
"Do you think we should exchange phone numbers?" she asked, innocently. "You know, so we can set up a time to go the library and get one of those GED guides, or to come to my place to set up your account with them on my computer."
His cheeks turned pink. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."
Joyce took her phone and entered his contact information as he told her, then texted him. She showed him how to save that information as a contact. Looking at how simple it was he grinned.
"I don't know how many times Sam tried to show me how to create a contact," he said. "Took you thirty seconds."
"I know the shortcuts," replied Joyce. She extended her hand to him. "Bucky, I feel good about working with you. We'll get you set up with your GED in no time."
Smiling and nodding he turned towards the door, hesitating just before he left to give her a wave. As he walked outside on the sidewalk past where she was sitting, Joyce got the distinct impression that she had just made his day. He was looking forward, a pleasant smile on his face, as he passed. She didn't realize it at the time but it kind of made her day as well, as one of her friends came in twenty minutes later asking why she was in such a good mood. For a moment Joyce thought of telling her about meeting Bucky Barnes but didn't, choosing to keep it to herself, at least for a while.
For a couple of days, she didn't see or hear from Bucky, but he did call to go to the library together. When they got to the Greenpoint branch of the Brooklyn Public Library she could tell Bucky felt comfortable there. Right away, he relaxed noticeably as that crease between his eyes, obviously a stress indicator, almost disappeared. Joyce knew where to find the guides, but she also wanted Bucky to learn how to use the search terminals so as soon as he stopped his worship of the library space she went to the computer and waited for him.
"Have you used these before?" she asked. "I imagine you grew up with the catalog cards in those big wooden cabinets."
"Yes, but on this thing, I get so many hits and it's too much to wade through," he replied. "At least with the card catalog I could search by title, author, or subject and that seemed good enough then."
"That's true," said Joyce. "So, you can either use a more advanced search or filter your search results after. Why don't we try one then the other if you want, and you can see which one works better for you. Everyone's different. There's no right way or wrong way about it."
He entered the term GED in the simple search and within seconds it listed 237 results, 193 of them in the catalog, 31 on the library website, and 13 classes. His eyebrows went up a little.
"Classes? They have classes?"
"Click on that tab," said Joyce, watching as it brought up the 13 results. "Okay, so only one is actually directly about the GED and it's basically a class that you have to dedicate at least 12 hours per week to. Do you think you would be able to do that?"
"No, not with the Flag Smashers still in flux," he replied, somewhat disappointed. He gestured to the other results. "Why are they here if they aren't exactly about the GED?"
"Well," began Joyce, pointing to one of the tags under the description of the class. "You see this tag? It says, "adult learning" and the others all have the same tag, so it brings them up as other options. This one, for example, is to connect with tutors, like you connected with me. Like you, some people want a personal contact to help them through the process."
He clicked on the library website tab and this time he smiled at the results as there were more related to the GED, including an information session at another branch of the library, several branches that hosted regular classes for people, and booklists, although they didn't seem to be up to date as several resources in them were listed as "Not in the collection."
"Why aren't they in the collection?" asked Bucky.
"For starters, New York State recently switched from from one high school equivalency program to another," replied Joyce, patiently. "Those resources were probably part of the old one and are now considered out of date. I would have taken them right out of the booklist, but it takes time to update these things and I'm guessing staffing is an issue what with funding cutbacks."
"It's not right," he said, looking at Joyce. "During the Depression the government found the money to put into libraries, making it possible for people to be able to read and study, even though money was really tight. Steve and I were always at the library because we couldn't afford to buy books."
Joyce shrugged. "It isn't right, but certain political parties think that providing a public service shouldn't be a government responsibility. They see places like this as an unnecessary frill."
He shook his head then smiled again. "It seems like the library still tries. I would sign up for one of these classes but again, with the Flag Smashers I don't think I could guarantee I would show up. Better to leave that space for someone who can."
Pointing out that Bucky could still take in the virtual information session, Joyce walked him through the registration process assuring him they could watch it together from her place. That seemed to please him. Next, he clicked on the tab for the 193 results. Although many were related to the GED there were just as many that weren't, including some children's books. Bucky looked at Joyce with questioning eyes. Quickly, she scanned the titles, wondering herself why they were in the GED list. Then she saw it and started laughing quietly.
"Okay, we searched GED as a keyword, not as a subject," she started. "Look at these children's book titles. Do you see the keyword "ged" in there?"
Bucky scanned through them for several long moments then that smile came over his face again as he saw it.
"The author," he noted. "Ged Adamson. Well, that explains a lot of the false results, doesn't it. Makes sense. So how do I limit the results to the GED that I want?"
"Those tags, under a GED title," she pointed out. "Click on the one that says GED."
The number of resources dropped to 74, still a large number but definitely easier to handle than 193. She did point out to him that those 74 were spread throughout Brooklyn. He could request them through inter library loan, but it would take time to get delivered to this branch and if they were popular, it could be some time before his turn came up. Quickly, she showed him how to limit the search even further to what was just at Greenpoint branch, which lowered the numbers even further to 7 results.
"Now, if you look at the Dewey number ...," she glanced at him. "You do remember the Dewey Decimal System? I believe it was in use when you would have been in school although some numbers may have changed since then."
"Yes," he grinned. "I remember it in general terms."
"Good, I don't have to explain the generalities of it," said Joyce. "The guides are all in the Education section, specifically 373.1262. Why don't we go over to the stacks and find them, bring them to a table and go over the different ones to find one that you like."
"I can't take them all?" he asked, innocently.
Joyce gave him her best librarian's face. "There are only 7 in this branch. If you take all of them then that leaves the next person without options. Besides, they all do the same thing so there's not going to be much difference between them."
Writing down the number on a slip of paper she encouraged Bucky to find the right aisle. He did seem to know where he was looking, and they soon found themselves looking at the seven titles on the shelf. Three of them were the same book, just dated for different years of the program so they only took the newest. Then they took one each of the others. Carrying the stack of books to a table Bucky started to sit down.
"Can I get you a coffee?" asked Joyce. "My treat, black, right?"
He looked around. "We're allowed to drink in here?"
She smiled and leaned close. "We are, as long as the cup has a lid. Many patrons bring a travel coffee mug so that if they knock it over it doesn't spill but I'm going to go with my gut here and assume you're a careful man. So, one black coffee?"
From the lineup at the coffee kiosk in the library she could see Bucky begin to go through the study guides. His face was a mask of concentration, with that crease between his eyes ... God, it was so cute ... appearing again. Placing the order, she took a deep breath. She had actually enjoyed being with him. In the few years since her retirement, she hadn't realized how much she missed this part of her job, the part where she felt like she was helping someone. To a person like Bucky, who had pretty much leapfrogged over a huge change in technology, it must have been confusing trying to understand how to use the search functions to their limits. They didn't even get to the advanced search part of the catalog, having only used the simple search function and the limiting filters. No matter, as in this case the result would have been the same. Better to go slowly, get him used to one new thing before trying to introduce another.
Taking the coffees from the barista Joyce began the walk back and was pleasantly surprised when Bucky stood up to pull out her chair and push it in again for her once she was sitting. Good manners were so rare these days. That Unique fellow was a good example, not that she thought he was a bad person. He just hadn't been brought up that way, to think of other's needs. It was like he had a gap in his personality that didn't allow him to see how his behaviour affected others. Bucky, on the other hand, was polite, attentive and admittedly very easy on the eyes. Joyce envied the woman who would capture his heart. If she could get past that stoic exterior and his PTSD, he could be someone to grow old with. That brought up another question in her mind to add to her observations on the former Winter Soldier. How long would Bucky Barnes live?