Chapter 19. Beginnings

When Bucky came through the exit to the airport arrivals area, he scanned the different faces for Sam then heard his name being called. Seeing his friend waiting near the back, he smiled and nodded, threading his way through the others waiting. Sam turned towards the luggage carousel.

"I just brought my carry-on," said Bucky. "We can go. Thanks for picking me up."

"No problem," he replied. "So, you were in Tampa. Does that mean you went to see your sister?"

"Yup. I did. Spent the last 3 days there. It was good."

"I'm glad. What made you go see her?"

Bucky stopped in the parking lot, squinting up at the sun, then looked back at Sam.

"I finished the list. Told my friend Yori about his son. It was hard and I figured if he didn't have to see me for a bit, he wouldn't have to wonder whether to speak to me or not."

"You're staying in Brooklyn?" Sam looked puzzled. "I thought you were considering moving."

"I was, but now I'm not," said Bucky.

They arrived at the truck which Sam unlocked remotely. Placing his bag in the back seat, Bucky put the seatbelt on and faced forward.

"What changed your mind?" Sam started the truck. "I mean, the last time I saw you, the morning after the Flag Smashers, you were wondering if Brooklyn was the place for you."

"Yeah, I know, and maybe even a few days ago I might have still felt that way. But Joyce came back early, just to be there for me after I told Yori, because we kept playing phone tag. Her instincts told her I wasn't doing too well. You're a good friend too, and I could live here, but we work together, and I don't want you to think I'm needy."

"Trust me, I would never think that," grinned Sam. "But I get what you mean. You want to be there for her as well, don't you? Didn't she find a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he's a good man, too," said the super soldier. "But he lives in Boston. Plus, Peter is on his own. I think he needs someone to be there for him. Someone who's not Dr. Strange."

Sam nodded. "You're a good man, Bucky."

"So, I'm told. I fixed up my place a bit. Have an actual queen-sized bed and a couch so if you come to New York, you'll have a place to stay. I actually slept in the bed without having a nightmare."

"Yeah?" Sam glanced at him. "That's good, right? So, you wrote your GED exams. I'm guessing you're waiting on the results. You saw your sister. I know you've been watching more movies and listening to more music. You fixed up your place. Does that mean you're going to look for a girlfriend next?"

Bucky grinned and looked out the window of the truck. "Maybe."

"As long as it's not Sarah, I say good for you."

"I can still flirt with her though, right? I need the practice."

"Nope, not happening." Sam shook his head, making Bucky grin even more. "You flirt with her; I'll beat your ass."

"You can try," laughed Bucky. He looked over to Sam. "Thanks for everything, really."

"Hey, seeing as how we were almost at each other's throats at the start of the Flag Smashers, I consider this friendship, what we've ended up with, something good." He gestured to the space between them. "I forget sometimes, how much living you missed out on. Steve had the others to help him. You didn't, plus you had to deal with all the shit that was wired into your brain as well. All things considered; you've come through it pretty well."

"You say that now," replied Bucky. "Joyce made me watch Saturday Night Fever with her. Turns out, I find disco kind of catchy."

"No!" Sam looked at him in mock horror. "Tell me you're joking."

He raised his eyebrows in return to Sam's protests, even playing him some disco music on his phone's playlist. The only thing Sam would credit him with was the fact he had some artists that were also R & B on there as well. On the drive back to Delacroix they argued over the relative merits of disco music, with Sam feeling he won the argument when Bucky admitted some of it was garbage, written to cash in on a hot trend. Before they got to the house, Sam announced there was a party at the docks, with everyone bringing something to eat.

"Shit, I gotta bring something," said Bucky. "Let me borrow your truck and I'll go back to a bakery. Get a cake or something."

"You don't need to bring anything other than yourself," replied Sam. "Seriously."

"Seriously, let me borrow your truck."

With a huff, he traded places with Bucky, letting him drop him off at the docks while Bucky backtracked towards New Orleans, stopping at the first bakery he saw. He found a rather sorry looking cake with Oreo cookies sticking out of the icing but shrugged and bought it, figuring as long as it tasted good no one would really mind. When he showed up at the dock, he barely had time to get out of it before Sarah's boys began jumping on him. Dodging them he brought the cake over to a table placing it there with everything else. Sam greeted him, introducing him to some people he hadn't met before. Several others remembered him lifting the engine out of the back of a truck and putting it on the dock like it weighed nothing. He took the gentle teasing, even redirecting some of it at Sam. At one point he ended up standing with his prosthetic arm extended out from the side of his body, several kids hanging off of it, refusing to believe he could hold them all up with just that one arm.

There was food, beer, and music and he felt good about being there, among people who didn't care what he used to be like, or that he had a black metal arm. As the afternoon went on, he felt more and more comfortable. When the sun started to dip towards the horizon and things became more laid back, he noticed Sam standing on the dock looking out over the water. Coming up behind him, he tapped him on the shoulder and Sam turned back to smile at him before looking back at the scene. Words weren't needed, as they were both where they wanted to be at that moment, with the people they wanted to be with. They headed back towards where some couples were dancing, and an old girlfriend of Sam pulled him onto the dance floor. As it became darker, Sam was kept out there for some time as all the young women wanted to dance with Captain America. Then a song came up that was an old one, from the 40s and a plump grandmother type smiled at Bucky. Putting his hand out to her, he smiled when she accepted his offer to dance. It was nice to dance again and when the song ended, he kissed her on the top of her hand, generating a sweet giggle from her.

"Sam, we need to get these boys home," said Sarah, soon after, pointing out to where her two boys were both sprawled out on a bundle of nets, fast asleep.

With apologies to those who were staying, Sam picked AJ up, while Bucky picked up Cass. With both of the boys sprawled in the back seat he sat in the truck box, leaning back against the cab. As Sam drove down the dark road towards the house, Bucky looked up at the stars above him, trying to make out the constellations. Hopping out when the truck stopped, he opened the back door to pick up Cass and followed Sarah into the house. Dropping Cass off in his bedroom, he let Sarah get him into bed, while Sam dealt with AJ. She came down to the living room with some sheets, a blanket and pillow to put on the couch.

"I can do that," said Bucky, holding his hands out to her.

"Thank you for being in New York with Sam," she said. "It meant a lot to him that you were there."

"He's a good man," replied the dark-haired man. "He's the right man to be Captain America."

She looked up at the stairs. "Yeah, he is. You'll have his back?"

"Always."

Sarah nodded, then headed towards the stairs, stepping aside as Sam came down. He watched her go up then looked at Bucky, as if he caught him in the act of doing something wrong.

"She just thanked me for having your back in New York," said Bucky. "We weren't flirting."

"Good," replied Sam, curtly. "You want a beer?"

"Sure."

He took the beer given to him and twisted the top off, following Sam outside to sit on the porch. They sat on chairs, watching the light of the fireflies, flickering on and off as they flitted around the yard. It was calm and peaceful, a little bit of heaven, that provided some solace to both men.

"Heard anything from Rhodes?" asked Bucky, finally.

Sam answered with an audible sigh. "Yeah." He sounded disappointed. "Despite how we handled the Flag Smashers they're not sure the Avengers need to be restarted. Thanks for saving the world from Thanos, and for dealing with those renegade super soldiers but we're not sure you're what's needed to handle situations like that anymore."

"Same old bullshit," muttered Bucky. "Guess I better start looking into going to college. Get some knowledge I can apply to a regular job, one that doesn't need my unique skill set."

"You could always go back to Wakanda and raise goats." Bucky looked at Sam in the dark to see if he was serious. "Or stay here and work as a deck hand on the boat."

"I could," replied Bucky, recognizing they were both suggested in earnest. "But if I did, I'd feel like I was hiding out. I'd rather be able to come here when I want to, not when I have no other choice." Sam started to protest. "I don't mean it like that. You're family now Sam; so is Joyce. But I meant what I said earlier. I have to start living for myself, and not let wanting to please my family make my decisions. It's my life and I have to live it my way."

There was silence between them again until Sam cleared his throat. "Okay. But you know we'll always be here for you, no matter the circumstances."

"I know ... thanks."

It felt freeing to Bucky to be able to acknowledge Sam's offer while maintaining his own independence. New York, the Brooklyn part of it specifically, wasn't the same place he grew up in but if he could live there successfully, he could live anywhere. Just like that Frank Sinatra song.

After several days recharging himself in Delacroix, Bucky flew back to New York, then took the train from JFK to his neighbourhood. He entered his apartment, smiling at the stacked mail on his table, and noticing that his plants were still living, thankful that he gave Joyce a key to watch his place. She even added a couple of plants and left a fairly large box for him to open. A card on top of the box had a message: The best part of going away is coming home again. I missed you. Joyce. P.S. I made all of my kids a care package when they moved away from home the first time. I think you need one, too.

He put the card aside and opened the box, almost laughing at the different things she put into his care package. On top was a sizeable cookbook, along with a frying pan with the handle nestled inside. Underneath was a larger Dutch oven filled with basic condiments like salt, pepper, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, Italian seasoning, red pepper flakes, basil, thyme, and rosemary. Several rolled up dish cloths and tea towels filled in the gaps. Below the Dutch oven, visible after he lifted it out were some food staples, sugar, flour, baking soda, baking powder, cocoa powder, pasta, some canned goods, some mood candles, bath bombs, and a box of condoms, which made him laugh out loud. Just before the bottom was a calendar, with their birthdays marked, as well as days marked with Have Bucky over for dinner, at least once a week. On the bottom was a cutting board, with several different sized chef knives placed in the gap between the board and the side of the box. He spread everything out on the table, wondering how she ever thought that something so simple and practical could make him feel so grateful. He took a photo of it all with his phone and sent it to her with a text.

Bucky: Just got home from the airport and opened your care package. Thank you. I'm glad to be back.

Joyce: I like what you did with your place so far. Come for dinner and tell me everything about your trip. 6 pm.

Bucky: I'll be there. FYI – I missed you, too.

After he put the things away in the cupboards, also finding extra plates, glasses and cutlery that had somehow mysteriously found its way there, he attached the handle of the frying pan to it. The bath bombs and mood candles went in the bathroom while the condoms went into his nightstand. He still chuckled as he put the box in, at Joyce's apparent confidence in his ability to at least begin intimate relations with someone. Then he went through and opened his mail, finding one letter in the stack that he decided to open at Joyce's.

After doing some laundry it was almost time for him to walk over to Joyce's place. He headed out into the late afternoon sun, stopping off to pick up some flowers for her. As he stepped out of the florists, he almost bowled over an older man and put his hands out to steady him, before noticing it was Yori. Immediately, he stepped back, unsure of what to do or say.

"Bucky?" Yori looked up at him, surprised at seeing him. "Where have you been?"

"I went away for a week. Visited my sister and a friend." He swallowed and looked away before looking at the old man again. "How are you?"

"Better ..."

"I'm glad." He rubbed his chin with his gloved hand. "I never wanted to hurt you, but I always wanted you to know the truth about your son."

Yori gave him a grim half-smile, then turned to walk away. Bucky watched as the old man stopped then looked back at him.

"I miss our Wednesday lunches," he said. "In time, we should go again."

"I'd like that, Yori. When you're ready."

The old man nodded and continued on his way, while Bucky began breathing again, realizing he had been tense the entire time. Continuing on his way to Joyce's he went up the steps and knocked, getting a hug from her when she opened the door. She made a big fuss over the flowers then directed him to find a vase for them, which he did; pouring the plant food in the lukewarm water and stirring it in before cutting the ends off the flowers and arranging them in the vase. Joyce made chicken cordon bleu, with scalloped potatoes, steamed broccoli, and fresh tray buns. It appeared she put a lot of work into the meal, so Bucky made sure to complement her on everything.

They talked about his visit with his sister, and how natural it seemed to be with her, even though she was so much older now. He had some pictures on his cell phone of them together and showed them to Joyce, who couldn't get over the blue eyes they both had.

"I told her about you," said Bucky. "About how you remind me of our own mother. She was glad someone like you was looking out for me."

"What about Delacroix?" asked Joyce. "Sam's okay?"

"Yeah, except it doesn't look like they're resurrecting the Avengers anytime soon," he replied. "He kind of offered me a job on their fishing boat." Joyce stopped eating, not expecting that but Bucky shook his head. "I thanked him but told him I should learn to live on my own first, maybe go to college for a bit and learn something useful enough to get a regular job. I'll admit I considered moving there but I'm sticking around here for some time."

"I'm glad to hear it." She continued chewing. "Tom and I had a nice time while you were gone. I'm going to Boston for a bit to meet the rest of his family. I think we're going to look at moving in together, but we'll figure out where later."

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, not in a big, expansive way," she said. "We're both at a point in our lives where we like the tranquility of a quiet life. We might travel some more together. I never expected to meet someone who I could love after Bob died. It's nice having someone like him in my life."

"Well, good," said Bucky. "You deserve it. I like him. He's steady and cares about you very much."

She smiled at his observation. When they finished the meal, she brought out some ice cream and dished out a bowl for each of them; rocky road for her and vanilla for Bucky.

"You could at least try some of this," she said, as she raised her spoon to her lips.

"I'm fine with what I have," he insisted. "So, how do I figure out what I can take at college?"

"You can see a career counsellor," suggested Joyce. "Considering your unique background, they can help you narrow down your strengths and abilities."

"I can just see it," he smiled. "Mr. Barnes, I've determined your strengths include knowing many ways to kill a person, the ability to track people through rain, wind, snow, and dangerous terrain ... therefore I suggest you look into being a hit man." Joyce gave him a look. "Don't look at me like that. What else am I qualified for? Not much."

"You're smart, you do know how to find people, and you have a definite sense of right and wrong," she answered. "You don't kill anymore but you'll defend yourself if you have to. You could be a police officer, or a private investigator, or a repo man." He looked questioningly at her. "You repossess cars and other vehicles after their owners stop making payments on them. There's a show about the ones that repossess aircraft. They make good money. Insurance investigator, skip tracer, bounty hunter ... they all involve skills that you are probably very good in."

"What if hunting people is too close to what I did? I don't need the stress of that."

"You could limit yourself to finding kids ... there are all sorts of people who kidnap kids. It's either a divorced parent who doesn't want to give them up, or someone who wants to use them in child porn."

The look Bucky gave Joyce when she said the last part was part shock and part anger. "People do that? For real?"

"Yeah, for real." She shook her head. "Shutting down HYDRA didn't get rid of all the villains, Bucky. There are people who are willing to do just about anything for the right price, including taking kids away from their families. With your languages and tracking skills, you could probably do a lot of good in that field. You would have to brush up on your computer skills but that can be done through all sorts of courses, or you hire someone to do it for you. You should talk to Matt Murdock about it. I'm sure he could tell you more."

"Okay, I'll think about it," he said. "Those are all options that I didn't consider before."

"Speaking of college, I noticed when I took in your mail that you had a letter from the Board of Education," said Joyce.

Bucky held up the sealed envelope in front of him.

"I requested that the results for all four tests be sent at the same time," he said. "No matter what it says, thank you for helping me. I don't think I could have done it on my own."

"Nonsense," replied Joyce. "You had the knowledge. You just needed to learn about using a computer plus a little confidence."

With a deep breath he tore the end of the envelope open and pulled the slip of paper out, unfolding and reading the results of his tests.

"145 is a pass, 165-174 means I can start college level courses and likely not need any remedial work. 175-200 means I can earn college credits before I apply to college." He took another breath. "Language Arts, 187, Social Studies, 174, Mathematics, 186, Science, 185."

"You did it," smiled Joyce. "You get your diploma and college credit in 3 subjects."

"I should have done better in Social Studies," said Bucky, frowning slightly. "Maybe I'll rewrite the exam after I practice using the calculator for statistical analysis." He looked at Joyce. "But you're right, I did it. I can go to college, only 90 years late."

"I'm so proud of you, Bucky." Her eyes were bright. "You did really well. Those are great marks."

Joyce picked up her cellphone and looked up a playlist. Celebration by Kool and the Gang started playing on her Bluetooth speaker.

"Dance with me, Bucky," said Joyce. "This is cause for celebration. Remember the dancing in Saturday Night Fever? Now's your chance to boogie."

With a grin he started dancing with Joyce, turning and twisting her around. They laughed then the Staying Alive song started up and Joyce cranked up the volume. She started doing the pointing arm movements associated with disco. Neither one of them heard the doorbell over the sound of the music, or the sound of the door opening. They both heard a significant cough and noticed they weren't alone. Joyce picked up her phone, turning the volume down, turning to the woman who stood in the entryway from the hall.

"Hope, what are you doing here? What's going on?"

"I should ask you the same, Mom," replied her daughter, as she glared at Bucky. "Who the hell is this?"

"This is my friend, Bucky," answered Joyce, feeling irritated, as Bucky looked back and forth between the two women. "We were celebrating a milestone for Bucky and he's a guest in my home. You don't talk to me or about him in that fashion. Why are you here?"

"You have a gigolo dancing up a storm with you during the middle of the day and I'm the bad guy?"

"I didn't say that you were the bad guy, Hope, and he's not a gigolo," replied Joyce, already exasperated. "You were being very rude to my friend. Why are you here? Why aren't you in Chicago?"

That was when Hope's face fell and Joyce stepped forward, her face suddenly changing from angry to concerned.

"What's happened, Hope?"

Her daughter looked at Bucky, unwilling to talk in front of him. Joyce looked at him, indicating maybe he should step out.

"Do you have luggage I can get for you? You probably weren't able to park too close."

Hope nodded and gave him her keys then a description of her car and where it was. As soon as the sound of the front door closing reached her, she looked at her mother again.

"Jack left me, Mom," she whimpered. "He came home while I was at work, took all of his stuff and left me for another woman. Couldn't even break up with me in person. He left me a fucking letter."

She began to cry, and Joyce put her arms out, inviting her daughter into her embrace. While the two women were close, Bucky returned with the luggage and stood in the hallway where it led into the kitchen. He gestured upstairs to Hope's room, receiving a nod from Joyce, and took the things up then returned back down.

As Joyce continued to console Hope, Bucky wasn't sure what to do so he dropped the keys on the counter, picked up his GED results, then gave Joyce a grim smile and left, hoping that the two women could settle down better if he wasn't there.

It wasn't until Bucky was halfway down the block that he realized something. Hope was even more beautiful than any of her pictures. Despite the rough introduction between them, he wanted to see her again, and not just as Joyce's daughter. How he was going to do that was unknown at the moment, but he would find a way. The fact she was with her mother right now, crying, probably meant she had broken up with the man she had been living with. How could Bucky Barnes convince Hope Franklin that he was a better man than the guy in Chicago who just broke her heart? How would Joyce take it if he asked her daughter out? It was going to be a challenge but somehow, he would make it happen.

To be continued in Welcome to My Broken Heart, starting soon.