Chapter 18. Progress

When Dr. Raynor entered her office the next morning and saw a gift bag on the patient couch, she was puzzled how it got there since she didn't recall leaving it there the day before. After gingerly inspecting the contents by looking down through the open top she opened it further, seeing the notebook inside. The list of names was all crossed off, all of them written in the same hand, in block capitals as was the card inside an envelope.

I FINISHED THE BOOK... THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP, DOC.

He did it. Barnes finished the final requirement of his conditional pardon. With a smirk, she wondered if she should mention on her report that he technically broke into her office to leave the completed list, but she wasn't that petty. They hadn't been a good match as therapist and patient, but she truly hoped and wished him all the best. With friends like Joyce Franklin and Sam Wilson, perhaps he could find the peace he always insisted that he wanted.

Bucky stopped off at a bodega, picking up some eggs, a newspaper, and on impulse, a bouquet of flowers, tapping his card on the terminal to pay for them, and heading out into the busy Brooklyn morning. After dropping off his completed list at Dr. Raynor's office, it felt like a big load was off his mind. That list had tormented him ever since he wrote down the names of the people he had to make amends to. There were more names he could have added but many of them had either died, or had changed their names, wanting to erase their own past connections to HYDRA. Those that were left made it into that notebook. Finding out that Zemo's name had to be one of them had been irritating but that had been the easiest of all of them, since the man had his own amends to make to Bucky. Hopefully, he would never have to see him again.

That left his second list of things to do and see, accomplishments to make. The GED had been a big one to cross off. Even though he hadn't yet received the results he knew he had done well on the four exams. He also crossed off quite a few movies and books, including ones that hadn't been on his original list. Making his flat nicer was added to the list after Joyce had her meltdown there, with Bucky acknowledging the truth that it could be more comfortable. If he ever found a girlfriend, he would want a nice place for her. The websites that Joyce passed on to him and the books on sex had helped bring him up to date on what women wanted emotionally and sexually. Everything was a work in progress that could proceed now that he had finished his amends list.

Arriving at Joyce's place he bounded up the steps, almost unlocking the door himself but instead he knocked and waited to be let in. It was Tom who did so, smiling at him and stepping aside to make room for him in the entryway. The older man noticed the flowers and the eggs.

"You'll save her a trip," he said. "Nice touch with the flowers. She'll like that."

He turned to walk back to the kitchen when Bucky coughed. Tom looked back.

"Thank you for bringing her home," said Bucky. "I missed her, more than I thought I would. She's ... she's become very important to me."

"To me as well," said Tom, in a low voice. "Look, I know I've only known her a short time and you're not her real family, but I assure you that I have honourable intentions." He looked towards the kitchen where they could both hear Joyce moving around while singing a little to the sounds of the radio. "I've become very fond of her, very quickly and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that. You're important to her, so you're important to me as well."

Bucky nodded, smiling shyly then followed Tom into the kitchen, placing the eggs on the kitchen counter. Joyce's eyes lit up at the flowers and the newspaper, briefly hugging him for thinking of those. Directing Tom to a vase, she let him take care of the bouquet while she put a large bowl, measuring cups, flour and milk in front of Bucky.

"Do your thing," she said. "Bucky makes the best pancakes. Fluffiest I've ever had."

Taking his jacket, then gloves off, Bucky began scooping out the flour, adding the other dry ingredients and mixing it together before making a well. He melted some butter in the microwave then added it to a small bowl with the milk and beaten egg, stirring it together. After he heated up the one frying pan, he poured the liquid mixture into the dry. Happy with the consistency he transferred the batter to the frying pan in three spots, watching as the bubbles began forming on the surface before flipping them over. He used up all the batter then placed the plate of finished pancakes on the table, getting the syrup out as well. Joyce had finished making the sausage and scrambled eggs, while Tom made the coffee, pouring out three cups. The three of them sat down in the sun that spilled over the kitchen table, helping themselves to the food. With a smile at both men Joyce ate for a bit, then looked at Tom.

"Well, now that you're in New York, do you want to spend a few days getting to know my neighbourhood?" she asked.

"I'd like that," he replied. "What about you, Bucky? Do you want to join us?"

The super soldier looked at the unspoken bond between the older couple, smiled, and shook his head.

"You don't need me holding you two back. Besides, I have a few things to get for my flat." Joyce gave him a surprised look. "You were right all along. I kept it minimal because I never wanted to feel comfortable in it. But a home is what you make of it and if I'm going to start dating again, I need to start with that place."

"Aw, I wanted to help," she whined, while grinning at him.

"Well, you could always look things up and show me what you think, although I've been reading some decorating blogs that talk about staging the perfect place for the discerning modern man." A giggle escaped from Joyce, leading to all three of them chuckling. "Thanks for your support. If you end up at the coffee shop later text me and I'll join you then."

"Sounds like a plan," said Joyce. "You're coming for dinner though. I have just the movie for you to watch." Both Tom and Bucky perked up. "Saturday Night Fever."

"Disco," grinned Tom. "I wasn't much of a dancer, but I think Dan had the white suit."

"No," laughed Joyce. "Seriously?"

"What's disco other than a music genre I haven't really listened to?" asked Bucky.

"It was big in the early 1970s." Joyce took a bite of her food and chewed it while she had a reminiscing look on her face. "People dressed up in their nicest clothes and went to the clubs to dance all night, get a little high, drink, then either hook up with someone they met at the club, or went home with their boyfriend or girlfriend. There was good disco music." Tom grimaced slightly. "Oh, come on. You know there's good disco. Kool & the Gang, Bee Gees, Earth, Wind and Fire ... Bob and I went out every weekend while we were courting. Anyways, the movie was kind of the celebration of that culture, but it didn't last. By the late 1970s its popularity dropped. Punk, which was already gaining in popularity as an alternative to disco, then new wave music, kind of replaced it but even they evolved and by the mid-1980s there were so many different genres that everyone was happy."

"Will I like it?" Bucky asked Tom, scrunching his face up a little.

"The music or the movie?"

"Either?" A shrug was the answer from the older man but when Bucky saw Joyce's hopeful look, he relented. "Okay, we can watch that."

"I forgot to mention it's set in Brooklyn, Bay Ridge," said Joyce. "So, there may be parts of the landscape you recognize."

With that pronouncement, their evening was set, and they ate their meal, while Joyce helped him compile a list of things he needed for the flat. Bucky helped clean up after they finished, saying goodbye to the couple. Several days before, he had already talked to his landlord about replacing the single bed with a double, something with a firmer mattress, figuring that if he was ever lucky enough to convince someone to come home with him, he would need a bigger bed. By the time he got back to his apartment from Joyce's to grab a couple of shopping bags for his purchases, his landlord, Jay, had texted him.

Will deliver a queen-sized bed this afternoon. It's used but in very good condition. I'll take the single out and put it in one of my other suites. I can use my key to get inside if you're okay with that. Let me know.

If Bucky had known it would be that easy to get a different bed, he would have asked a long time ago. Texting his landlord that he trusted him to enter the apartment, Bucky cleaned up a little, picking up the blanket and cushions from the floor of the living room area, as well as his clothes that were draped over the bed. He would have to wash the sheets he was going to buy first so he could likely do some regular laundry as well. With that he set out to visit some shops for things to brighten his apartment up. On his list were plants, pictures, cushions, and a rug. He added two pillows, queen sized sheets, a duvet, and a sofa, thinking he could maybe use a payment plan to buy one. They could deliver it as well, since he didn't have a vehicle.

By the time he returned with several large bags of goods, the bed had been delivered, along with a sofa, a small dining table and chairs. Bucky looked at everything that suddenly made his flat feel more homelike, immediately calling his landlord, wanting to know where it all came from. It appeared the bed had belonged to one of his tenants in another suite who skipped out on the lease. The guy also left behind the sofa and dining room set. When his landlord saw that Bucky still didn't have those things, he made a decision to leave them there as part of his now furnished flat.

"You're a good tenant," said Jay. Bucky could imagine the guy shrugging as he spoke on the phone. "You're quiet, you're clean, and your rent is paid on time. I saw on TV what you did for the city with those Flag Smashers. Consider it a bit of a thank you for what you did. Plus, whenever you move on, I can change the listing to fully furnished and get more rent but while you're there it will be the same."

It was unexpected but appreciated and Bucky thanked him. After he hung up, he stood in the middle of his flat and took it all in. Living in a bare apartment with a minimum of furnishings hadn't been enough. He never felt comfortable there before because it was just a cleaner version of how he existed with HYDRA. There were still things he could do to make the place feel even more comfortable, like the cushions, plants and pictures he just bought. Having a sofa to watch TV on, or to eat a meal at a table, and a real bed to sleep in or perhaps share, could help him feel more comfortable with his life here. Suddenly, he felt the urge to get those new sheets washed and his bed made. Turning this place into his home as soon as possible became a priority.

A few hours later he put the finishing touches on his bed, feeling good that he would come back to it later. Taking photos of it and of the sofa and dining set, he was going to text them to Joyce then decided to surprise her with them when he went over. He changed, putting a navy T-shirt on, then a long sleeved grey one on over that. Slipping his leather jacket on, he locked up and began the walk to Joyce's place. He was already out for a bit when he realized he forgot his leather gloves. Shoving his hands in his jeans pocket, he kept walking. When he went past the sushi restaurant, he glanced inside the window. Yori was there, with Leah hovering over him as she poured him some sake. Pausing to look at the pair, he again felt the pain he had inflicted on the old man by telling him the true cause of his son's death. Part of him wanted to go inside and make sure Yori was okay but when Leah looked up at him, with a look of profound sadness in her eyes he understood that it wasn't possible, not yet and maybe not ever. Setting his mouth in a grim line, he nodded at her, then stepped away from the window. He could give Yori all the space he needed to deal with the pain by not being around for a while.

At the end of the block, he stopped and pulled his personal list from his jacket pocket, looking at the second item, just under his GED. Maybe it was time. Taking his phone out, he hesitated for a moment, looking at the number in his contacts, then pressed Dial, and waited for the call to be answered.

"Hi, um, my name is James Buchanan Barnes," he began. "I believe my sister, Rebecca Proctor, is a resident in your facility." He listened to the response and nodded. "Yeah, that was me with the Flag Smashers. I would like to come and see her. Is tomorrow alright? I can fly down from New York in the morning and spend the day with her, but I don't want to intrude if you don't think it's a good idea." He smiled this time. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you."

Continuing on his way he arrived at Joyce's place, stepping up and knocking briefly. Tom opened the door, greeting him as he entered. It smelled really good inside the kitchen, of roast chicken with all the fixings. An apple pie was cooling on the counter, and Bucky wondered how she managed to get all that done, considering she and Tom had planned to go out all day. They never contacted him to meet up at the coffee shop either. His questions must have been evident on his face because Joyce came close and touched his hand.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just wondering where you found the time to go out and do all this," he asked.

"We didn't go out, after all," she said. "After you left, I sat down for a bit and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the recliner. Tom was laid out on the couch. I guess we were both still wiped out from flying the red eye from Seattle. I felt like making a home cooked meal, so we worked on that together. Tom made that pie."

Bucky looked at the smug smile on the older man's face. "It looks good, and it smells incredible in here."

"You didn't wait for us to call for the coffee shop, did you?" she asked, her voice sounding a little distressed.

"No, I was busy. In fact, I have something to show you."

He took his phone out and showed her the new bed, sofa and dining room set, plus the small extras he bought to fix up his place. Joyce smiled broadly when she looked at them.

"You bought furniture?"

"No, my landlord brought them in from a tenant who skipped out on his lease," answered Bucky. "I had already bought the few things to fix up my place a bit and it just seemed to work out. I think it looks pretty nice."

He showed Tom, who nodded his approval as well.

"Well, maybe you can have us over for dinner some time," remarked Joyce.

"Need more dishes for that. It's still a work in progress." He frowned a little. "I saw Yori at the sushi restaurant. He didn't see me. I think I need to give him some space for a bit." His hand went through his hair nervously. "I know you came back early for me but I'm going to Florida tomorrow ... to see Rebecca."

Joyce stopped what she was doing and stood in front of him, studying his face.

"Are you ready for that?"

"I think so. Getting the list of amends done was a big thing for me. Then I looked at my other list and she was number 2 after getting my GED. I phoned her retirement home. She watched the TV coverage of the Flag Smashers and knows it was me that was involved. It's time I make an appearance."

"If you're sure then it's the right thing to do," she said, warmly. "You should go see Sam afterwards, for a few days."

"Will you be, okay?"

"I'll be here," interrupted Tom. "Joyce won't be alone. You take care of your personal matters. Family is important. It's why my brother and I are close, especially since he came back after the Blip."

With that out of the way, Bucky enjoyed the home cooked meal with the pair, telling them a little about his sister. He watched the movie Saturday Night Fever with the couple, trying to picture Joyce all dressed up to go out with her late husband, dancing the night away to the music, which was admittedly catchy. It wasn't just the music that he found interesting, but also the look at an area of Brooklyn he knew well, and how it changed over the years.

If he hadn't been part of HYDRA he could have been married and had children or possibly grandchildren during the same time the movie was set, that went out clubbing and dancing to a disco beat that he might have hated. His Brooklyn accent would have likely deepened over the years, especially if he got back on at the docks after the war, marking him as being part of this distinct area of New York. With grey hair, and perhaps a bit thick in the middle, and wrinkles aging him, he would have been just another WWII vet who came home in one piece to pick up living again. They were all normal things that were denied to him, things that would have allowed him the anonymity that he sometimes craved.

"Well, I better get home," he said, standing up. "Thank you for dinner, and for suggesting the movie. It was ... interesting."

With a hug from Joyce, and a handshake from Tom, he headed out into the night. When he arrived at his flat and turned on the light, he noticed how much warmer it seemed inside. It was also quieter, in that outside sounds were muffled, and the sounds of the building were muted. He toed his boots off, then took his jacket and grey T-shirt off, dropping them on the couch. Grabbing a paperback book, he went into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp, another donation from his landlord. He laid back on the bed, wondering if it was firm enough to feel like the floor, but comfortable enough to allow him to sleep. Setting a jazz playlist on his phone, he opened the book and began to read. So far, so good. Maybe he could get used to a bed again.

He woke with a start, his eyes opening to an unfamiliar ceiling, visible in the dim light of a bedside lamp. His hand touched the book which lay opened on the other side of the queen-sized bed he was in, and he slowly sat up. A small chuckle was expelled from his lips as he looked at his phone; 4:13 am was on the display. He had slept uninterrupted for over five hours, in his clothes, on a bed. Sleep had come to him, just like it did when he was in Delacroix on Sam's couch. Since he was taking an early flight, he got up, showered, and packed his shoulder bag, taking the unfinished book with him in his jacket pocket. With a somewhat amused feeling warming him up inside, he straightened the bedclothes, turned off the light and left, making sure his windows and door were locked up first.

Just over an hour later he arrived at the airport, having taken the train there. After checking in for the flight to Tampa he went through security then stopped at one of the fast-food outlets for breakfast. When his flight began boarding, he waited in line, just like everyone else. Although he heard whispers from some of the passengers about Bucky Barnes being on the flight, he didn't respond to them. He had paid extra for a seat with leg room, as did a big man who sat on the aisle seat. They glanced at each other, nodding their heads curtly in the way unacquainted men acknowledge one another's presence. Bucky watched out the window as the aircraft took off then pulled his book out, prepared to read it, except he was aware the man sitting on the aisle seat was staring at him. Putting the book down he turned his attention to the man.

"Sorry," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "It's really you, right? Bucky Barnes."

"Yes." He wasn't going to make it easy for the guy.

The other man nodded, then looked down before making eye contact with Bucky again. "You're okay, now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sorry, I'm ex-military," said the man. "PTSD still rears its head from time to time. I would imagine with what you went through you have ... issues."

Bucky took in and released a noticeable breath. "Yeah, I do. Nightmares mostly and I'm not the friendliest person."

"I just wanted to let you know that in my support group you're kind of a hero to us. Don't listen to the people who say you haven't changed from the other guy. You have. We can see it and it gives us hope. That's all."

He faced forward and Bucky looked at his book, then closed it and put it back inside his jacket. He turned towards the man, offering his hand.

"What's your name?" The man answered, shaking Bucky's hand. "Tell me about yourself. We have three hours to kill."

It was a small gesture, but by the look on the man's face it was a significant one. They talked about the good things they both remembered from their time fighting for their country; mostly about the people who were memorable, and the things that never seemed to change even over all the intervening years. Neither man wanted to dwell on the horrors they had both experienced, preferring to leave that to a therapy session. By the time the airplane landed Bucky felt good about taking the time to connect the other man. They exchanged phoned numbers with a promise to meet for coffee sometime back in New York.

Since it was too early to go to a motel Bucky took his shoulder bag with him to the nursing home. The taxi pulled up to a fairly nice place, with a reception area that seemed full of greenery and light. He checked in with the receptionist, identifying himself then was asked to wait for an administrator to come see him. The woman, a friendly sort, smiled at him as soon as she came out of her office.

"I can see the resemblance," said Mrs. Charles. "Those blue eyes are quite distinctive. Mrs. Proctor said you were handsome as a young man." She shrugged. "That hasn't changed."

"She knows that I'm coming?"

"Yes, I told her this morning that she would have a visitor today. Right away she asked if it was her brother. She's been waiting a long time to see you. After Captain Rogers sought her out, she wondered why you didn't come after Thanos was dealt with." She saw his face. "Don't feel guilty. She knows reintegrating into society has likely been difficult for you. Should we go up?"

Steve told him about Rebecca still being alive, on the trip to Siberia when they were following Zemo there. Told him where she was living before he went back to the past. Even though he wanted to come and see her something always stopped him, until yesterday when he finally made the call. He followed Mrs. Charles down the hall of the third floor, past open doors that showed spacious suites, full of light and bright colours. Music or the sounds of various televisions drifted out into the hallway. Then they were suddenly there, at Rebecca's suite. Mrs. Charles cheerily knocked on the door and greeted Rebecca by name.

"Is he with you?"

He heard her voice and for a moment he almost turned around and ran away but Mrs. Charles called to him, and he placed one foot in front of the other, entering the bright blue space. His sister was small, white-haired, and her blue eyes gazed on him just as they had when she was a girl.

"Hi Freckles," he said softly, then kneeled in front of her, placing his hands on hers. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner but I'm here now."

"You were here before," she said. "Outside, watching from across the street. Why didn't you come over?"

"I wasn't ready," replied Bucky. "I was ashamed to face you. I did terrible things, Rebecca; things I had to atone for."

"I know and Steve explained," she answered, her face sad. "You never have to be ashamed with me. They hurt you so much, didn't they?"

He nodded, then the tears began to fall from his eyes, and he bent his head to her hands. Gently, Rebecca stroked Bucky's hair and murmured to him. Mrs. Charles left, closing the door quietly behind her. As his cries lessened, he shifted, noticing his sister's one hand that he still grasped. It was wrinkled but manicured, with pale pink nail polish on her fingernails. The colour almost matched the colour of the sweater she wore, and he smiled, remembering how much she liked pink as a girl.

"What are you grinning at?"

"This shade of pink," he replied. "It was your favourite, wasn't it?"

"It was. You liked it too but were more partial to blue. I remember so many of your girlfriends always wore something blue." He nodded. "Do you have a girlfriend now?"

"No, no one," he said. "I do have friends. Sam Wilson, an irritating army lieutenant named Joaquin, Spider-Man, a retired librarian named Joyce and her boyfriend. It's a start."

"I'm glad. Other than the Flag Smashers, what have you been up to?"

"Therapy, helping the authorities track down the people who benefitted from HYDRA, making amends to the families of my victims. I studied for my GED and wrote the exams so when I get the diploma I can go to college."

"Finally," she laughed, then she became serious. "Did anyone make amends to you for what you went through?"

"No, Joyce asked the same thing soon after we became friends." He looked up at her. "You would like her. She's much like Ma and has helped me a lot. She referred me to a lawyer that's following up on a claim for back pay and compensation for what I went through. You know that there were military people and politicians who knew about me but kept it a secret."

She nodded; her face grim. "They should be shot for what they did to you. Ma and Dad never got over it; I carried the hurt for a long time and when they identified you as the Winter Soldier, I defended you. Said you would never willingly do that. When that Black Widow released all of their files it proved it, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but there are always going to be people who will think those are fake files to cover it all up. Doesn't matter anymore. The people that I care about know the truth and that's what's important."

Her one hand caressed his face as she smiled serenely upon him. It was a soft gesture, but it reinforced that coming here today was the right thing to do. Perhaps he had finally reached the point where he could begin to open himself to befriending people and enjoying situations. Not everything had to be treated with a degree of mistrust or suspicion. As they talked for the rest of the morning, getting caught up with each other's life, it seemed like the years fell away. Even with the white hair and wrinkles, Rebecca was still the same. Her laugh, her smile, and her good nature shone through, something familiar that Bucky held firmly in his heart.

He went to lunch with Rebecca, was introduced to her friends in the nursing home, who all made a fuss of him, calling him handsome and charming. When she started yawning, then apologizing for needing a nap he stayed with her until she extracted a promise from him to return for dinner later and breakfast the next day. He promised, spending several days being there with her. It was time well spent, and it added to the growing sense of peace he felt within himself, peace he hadn't felt since he lived in Wakanda. This time, he felt like he deserved it.

Author's note: One more chapter for this short novella, to wrap things up and set the stage for the sequel "Welcome to My Broken Heart."