Part Three: The Hope That Keeps Me Trusting
You calm the storms
And you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
You still my heart
And you take my breath away
Would you take me in?
Take me deeper now
And how can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me
How could it be
Any better than this?
- "Everything" by Lifehouse
"No, Uncle Sam! Grass is green."
Sam looked up from the bright orange field of grass he was coloring in around the pink and purple polka-dotted cows on his page. Pretending to look shocked, he said, "It's supposed to be green? I always thought grass was orange—just like apples!" He reached over to Jake's page with his orange crayon.
"No!" Jake slapped his hands over the apple orchard he was coloring in with proper shades of red and green. He bit his lip and glanced up swiftly, looking uncertain. To reassure Jake that it was all a joke, Sam made sure to grin goofily at him. "Would an orange tree be silly?" He feinted towards Jake's page, then pulled his crayon back. "It's pretty silly, isn't it?"
The uncertainty in Jake's expression softened into a smile that mirrored Sam's. "It's silly!"
"But not as silly as you!" Sam retorted, poking Jake's side with the crayon to make him giggle.
Keys jingled at the front door, and Jake immediately shot to his feet. Dropping his crayons, he raced to the door even as Steve shuffled inside, weighed down with several shopping bags. "Daddy!"
Sam followed a step behind, grabbing a couple bags to free up one of Steve's arms to receive Jake's enthusiastic hug. "Hey, buddy," Steve chuckled, ruffling Jake's hair, "you want to help me put away the groceries?"
"Okay."
Sam smiled, watching as Jake handed Steve one item at a time from the shopping bags to put in the refrigerator. The difference between Jake's behavior now and just a couple days ago was like night and day, like someone had flipped a switch in his little brain. But at the same time, Sam knew the changes had actually been eight months in the making. This whole time, while outwardly he hadn't seemed to be making much progress at all, he'd been silently observing and processing. The final piece of the puzzle had slotted into place, and now he embraced his new life with open arms.
It was the best thing that could have happened for Steve, especially considering that they hadn't had a chance to see Bucky since T'Challa had taken him off to hand him over to the authorities. After everything they'd been through recently, Steve deserved every second of this.
"You're such a good helper, Jake," Steve said, gathering up the empty shopping bags. "Thank you."
Jake grabbed Steve's free hand and pressed the palm firmly against his cheek. He smiled almost shyly up at him. "You love me, Daddy?"
Steve bent down to kiss the top of Jake's head. "Yeah," he said in a husky voice. "Daddy loves you very much."
Sam's heart melted into a puddle of goo at the gentle smile that lit Steve's face. They were both way too adorable, and it wasn't fair.
Clearing his throat, Steve suddenly said, "What about you, Uncle Sam? Do you love him too?"
Sam grinned and crossed the room, sinking to one knee at Jake's side to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You bet I do! You're my favorite Jake in the whole wide world!"
Jake's jaw dropped, and his eyes popped wide open, like his little mind had just been blown. "Really?" he gasped.
"Abso-posi-lutely," Sam said. "Here, pinky promise."
He had to show Jake how to do it, and Jake looked rather bewildered at the whole process, but Sam just grinned broadly as he got to his feet again. "I need to get me one of those," he said to Steve.
"Well, I wouldn't suggest going about it the way I did," Steve said lightly, putting away the grocery bags.
Sam shot him a glance, worried for a moment that he'd brought up a sore topic, but Steve was smiling. So Sam just said, "Yeah, guess I'll have to go the old-fashioned route."
A tug on his hand brought Sam's attention back to Jake. He pointed mutely in the direction of the coffee table.
"Sir, yes, sir!" Sam said, letting Jake tow him back to their abandoned coloring book. "Reporting for coloring duty!"
Sam had loved spending time with his honorary nephew even before Jake had started smiling and reciprocating their affection, but it was so much more rewarding now. It no longer felt like he was just talking to a wall half the time.
But while he would have happily sat on the floor coloring and playing games with Jake all day long, he had other responsibilities to see to. Besides, Steve clearly needed to soak up every second with Jake that he could. So Sam headed out that afternoon to an appointment he'd been looking forward to for a long time.
As soon as Sam stepped through the front doors of the VA, his eyes were drawn to the barrel-chested man sitting in a folding chair that looked too small for him. But then, Vincent Davison managed to make every chair he sat in look like it belonged in a kindergarten. "Yo, Vince!" Sam called to him.
The careworn furrows in Vince's forehead smoothed out as he looked up. "Sam, my man!" he boomed, launching to his feet and crossing the distance between them in two strides before gathering him into a crushing hug. His laughter echoed around the entry hall.
The first time Vince had given Sam one of his bear hugs, Sam had been secretly grateful for all the experience he'd had with supersoldier hugs beforehand, to put Vince's into perspective. At least Vince's hugs didn't knock the wind out of him like Steve's sometimes did.
"How you been, man?" Sam asked, reaching up to put a hand on Vince's shoulder.
"Oh, the usual—just a bunch of elephants dancing a tango up in here," Vince said, tapping his greying temple. "Not good for much the past week, but today's a good day!" He grinned, as cheerful as if he'd just said he'd been on vacation instead of suffering from frequent migraines.
"You ready to get going?" Sam asked.
"Can't wait!" Vince grabbed a duffel bag next to his chair and slung it over one shoulder, following Sam outside. Sam knew it contained the few possessions Vince owned.
On the way back to the apartment building, Sam tried to make small talk, but Vince kept on interrupting to ask questions about his new position, so Sam let the conversation take that route instead. It didn't take long to get back home anyway, so he immediately took Vince on a tour of the building.
First, he led Vince to his new apartment, the other one on the first floor. It was furnished with the basics, just enough to tide him over until he could save up for some nicer things. Sam pretended not to notice the tears shimmering in Vince's eyes as he gingerly sat on the edge of his own twin bed, and didn't comment when Vince still carried his duffel bag with him, even though Sam had given him the keys to his apartment.
Then Sam took him down to the basement and showed him the furnace, fuse boxes, and other things it would be his job to maintain in the building, and a closet with cleaning supplies. If they hadn't already talked about this at length, Sam would have been able to tell from the familiarity in Vince's voice and the questions he asked that he had plenty of experience with this sort of work. It wasn't a lack of capability or motivation that had kept him from holding down a job, but only an unfortunate mixture of the injuries and PTSD he'd brought home with him.
Finally, Sam showed Vince up to the top floor and knocked on Steve's door. When Steve opened the door and greeted them with a smile, Vince immediately dropped his duffel bag by his feet and straightened up, snapping into a sharp salute.
"This is SSG Vincent Davison," Sam said. "He's our new maintenance man."
Steve returned the salute, then held out a hand for Vince to shake. "Welcome. Thanks for helping us out."
"No—thank you." Vince grasped Steve's hand with both of his, pumping it up and down with a huge grin. In that moment, he looked like a kid gone starry-eyed to meet his hero, even though he loomed over Steve and looked much older than him. "It's an honor, sir. Truly an honor."
When Vince relinquished his grip, Steve turned, and Sam caught sight of Jake peeking around Steve's leg. "Hey, buddy, you want to say hi to Mr. Vince?"
Jake shook his head. The booming laugh that echoed around the hallway made Jake jump, but he stood staring up at Vince, transfixed.
Steve picked Jake up, smiling apologetically when Jake buried his face in Steve's shoulder. "This is my son, Jake. Sorry, he's a little shy..."
"Hey, no worries," Vince said, still chuckling as he picked up his duffel bag again. "I'm sure we'll be friends in no time—especially once I get me some lollipops to bribe him!" When Jake looked up at that, Vince leaned a little closer and said in a stage whisper, "Don't worry, Jake. I know I look big and scary, but I promise: I'm actually just a great big teddy bear."
Jake's look of utter confusion was priceless.
"Okay, say goodnight to Miss Sharon!" Steve gently urged, waving to Sharon sitting on the couch with Sam.
"Goodnight," Jake shyly echoed, clinging to Steve's hand.
Sharon smiled at them, waving back. "Sleep tight!"
"Snug as a bug in a rug!" Sam added.
As Steve tucked him in, Jake was very clingy, as he had been for the past couple days. He didn't seem to want to let go of Steve's hand, and while Steve certainly cherished their time together, he also wanted to spend some time with Sharon before the night was over. She was headed back to Berlin the next day, and they had no idea when she'd be able to make it back here.
"How about a bedtime story?" Steve suggested, gently prying his fingers out of Jake's hand so he could reach for the bookcase. He grabbed one of the picture books that had survived Jake's purge simply because it had been on a shelf too high for him to reach.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Steve opened the book so that Jake could see the pictures as well, and began to read. "Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening. 'Guess how much I love you,' he said."
Jake's fingers curled around the edge of Steve's shirt as he read, his big blue eyes blinking slowly and sleepily but remaining fixed on the colorful pictures in the book.
Though Steve read slowly and smoothly, it didn't take long before he reached the last page of the book. "Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night. Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, 'I love you right up to the moon—and back.'"
Before Steve could close the book, Jake mumbled through a huge yawn, "I got brown hair."
With a chuckle, Steve smoothed down Jake's dark locks and decided not to explain that it was a different kind of hare in the book. There would be plenty of opportunities to clarify that in the future, when Jake was a little more awake. "That's right, you do have brown hair."
"But you don't got brown hair..."
Setting the book aside, Steve slid off the bed to kneel next to it. "No, I don't. But I still love you to the moon and back." He kissed Jake on the forehead, and got a sleepy smile in return.
He got to his feet and paused in the doorway as he turned off the light. "Goodnight, buddy," he whispered. "I love you."
Night after night for eight months, he'd said those words, met with nothing but silence. This time, he heard a sleepy murmur, "Night, Daddy..."
After closing the door, Steve paused for a moment in the hallway, closing his eyes to savor this feeling. Was this what it meant to be a father? It wasn't just pain and the constant certainty that you were messing up at every turn. Being a father also included this deep sense of fulfillment that warmed his heart right now.
Still smiling, Steve emerged into the living room. As Steve sat down next to Sharon, Sam got up. "All right, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."
"Oh, you don't have to leave..." Steve said, though he was secretly grateful to get her all to himself, at least for a little while.
Sam laughed, already heading for the door. "Yeah right! You think I want to be the third wheel while you two are making smoochy-eyes at each other? Safe travels, Sharon."
"Thanks," she said, saluting him with her after-dinner mug of coffee as he let himself out.
"Can I get you a refill?" Steve offered.
"No thanks." Sharon drained the last of her coffee. "Probably shouldn't have any more caffeine this late anyway." She considered her mug for a moment, then said, "I bet caffeine doesn't affect you, does it?"
"Sadly, no," Steve sighed, taking her hand in his. Her palm was still warm from the coffee. "I just drink it for the taste now. At least I've always been a morning person."
They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, until Sharon said with a smile, "Sam and I were talking about Jake. I can tell he's changed a lot, and I haven't even been around him very much."
Steve beamed, his heart swelling again with the warm contentment he felt every time he thought of Jake now. "He calls me Daddy," he breathed. "I'd started to think that was impossible."
"Did he just...say that out of the blue?" Sharon asked.
Realizing he'd only given her a brief summary of what had happened, Steve launched into the story, giving her every detail of how he'd come to bring Jake home for good, and how Jake finally seemed to have figured out what it meant that Steve loved him. His story drew to a close as he told her how they'd ended up spending all night in the rocking chair, and in the morning Jake had finally used that name for the first time.
"And then he said, 'Daddy...that means I love you!'" Tears filled Steve's eyes again as he gazed into the middle distance, basking in the memory of that wonderful moment. "And...it was like...everything was worth it, everything we've been through, just for that one moment. All the tantrums, cleaning up after him, all those times I doubted myself, all the times he was angry with me, it all just...pales in comparison. I guess it's like that any time someone says 'I love you,' isn't it? In that moment, you feel like you could take on the whole world, and you wouldn't even care how hard it would be, because at least you know...this person loves me. And that makes all the difference."
Steve was so wrapped up in the memory of that blissful moment, he didn't notice Sharon growing still and silent until she pulled her hand out of his. He looked over in surprise.
Sharon tucked her hair behind her ear, then clasped her hands together in her lap and stared at them. "Steve..." she said slowly, "I...I'm sorry."
He frowned. "For what?"
Three long, heavy seconds passed before Sharon drew a deep breath and said in a rush, "A few days ago, you said you loved me, and I didn't say it back."
"Is that all?" Steve smiled a little, remembering that one golden moment in the middle of the frantic rush to stop Zemo and save Bucky. "Don't worry about it; that was a pretty hectic day."
Sharon's fingers twisted together. She still hadn't looked up at him. "But I could have said it later. There were so many moments afterwards when we were together, we were alone, and I could have said it. I thought about saying it, but I...couldn't. Because..."
She stopped suddenly, like her voice had gotten stuck, and a visible shudder rippled through her. Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders, beginning to realize there was something more serious going on here.
Drawing a deep breath, Sharon slowly said, as if she were forcing the words out, "I...used to tell...Kyle...all the time. Every day. At least. But...after a while...I realized he never did. He never said it first. If I asked him, he'd say it. But...it was always like...a bother. Like he wished he didn't have to say it. And I know now...he didn't really love me. At least not by the end. And I shouldn't have wanted it. I deserved better. But...I did want it. I wanted him to love me."
Steve nodded, rubbing her arm a little but keeping silent. He was afraid that interrupting her now might make her lose the nerve to get this off her chest.
She shivered again, and this time she let him pull her closer against his side. "I've...never told anyone that before. It's even hard for me to say it to my family. I just kind of...wait for them to say it first, and then I can say 'you too.' And then you said it to me, and I...I couldn't say it back. Because...what if the same thing happens again? What if this whole thing falls apart...but that's not fair to you. You've done nothing wrong. You've done everything right. And that's the easiest way in the world to repay you, just to say those words, but...they won't come out. And I'm just...I'm sorry."
Steve continued to rub her arm for a few moments as he thought of what to say. More than anything else, in that moment he was overcome with a strong desire to protect her—to somehow jump back in time and save her from the man who'd never deserved her. But that wasn't possible, so he had to focus on what he could do for her now.
"Thank you for telling me," he said. "And for what it's worth...you don't have to apologize for anything. When I tell you I love you," he kissed her on the top of her head, because he couldn't help it; he did love her, "you're not obligated to say anything in return. I just want to let you know how I feel."
The next shiver that ran through her shoulders was much smaller, and she finally turned to look up at him again. "But you want me to say it, right?"
"Of course." He reached for her hand; her fingers were cold now. "But I want you to say it because you mean it, not out of some kind of obligation or just because it's what you're 'supposed' to do. And even if you can never quite bring yourself to say it...that's okay. You don't owe me anything."
Sharon dropped her gaze again. Steve wasn't sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes. She didn't say anything else, just fiddled with the ring on his forefinger.
As he sat there, watching the side of her face and trying to guess whether anything he'd said had made a difference, Steve realized that he couldn't read her. He was used to being surrounded by people he'd learned to read very well. He could usually tell at a glance what Bucky was thinking, after growing up joined at the hip. Sam had lived with him day in and day out for long enough by now that they were also pretty good at reading each other. Steve had spent the past eight months using every ounce of observation and intuition to try to figure out what Jake was feeling, since he wasn't likely to come right out and tell anyone. Even the other Avengers were people he'd hung around long enough that he often had an inkling of what they were thinking, or at least their basic emotional state.
But even considering how many conversations they'd had over the past few months, many of which had been full of intimate secrets, he and Sharon simply hadn't spent that much time together in the same space. He looked at her expression, and he didn't know what it meant—was she still agonizing over the failures she perceived in herself, or was she just thoughtfully considering what they'd talked about? Did she regret what she'd told him, or was she relieved? He couldn't tell.
So he took the plunge and just asked her. "What are you thinking right now?"
She looked up, and he was relieved to see a smile playing about her lips. "I was thinking I'd like to kiss you...if that's okay."
Steve made sure she could see his smirk before he closed the distance between them. "Yes, darling, I think I could suffer through that."
Sharon may not have been able to bring herself to say those three words, but in that moment, Steve didn't really care. He loved her, she accepted it...and for now, that was plenty.
Once, Bucky had thought he knew what isolation was. He'd thought his stints in the bing were unbearable, particularly the last time, when he'd been stuck in a single room for a solid month.
What a fool he'd been. Isolation wasn't just being alone for a little while, watching the hours ooze by until you were finally allowed to be in another's presence again. No, true isolation was this black tunnel he stood in, stretching on and on forever. He couldn't see the end of it, couldn't pierce the darkness, couldn't go back the way he'd come. All he could do was walk forward and wonder if he was actually making any progress.
Just like every other time he'd been taken to the bing, Bucky wasn't allowed visitors or phone calls. But it seemed that this time, whoever was in charge decided not to take another chance with him. He wasn't even allowed to send or receive letters—not that mail had ever been particularly prompt in here before, but there had always been the faint hope that eventually, he could reach Steve. That hope had been stripped away.
What did they think he would do? Coordinate another breakout with Steve via snail mail? They were even limiting his visits with Matt. They couldn't prevent him from seeing his attorney entirely, but Matt couldn't come down quite as often, and they'd cut down on the length of the visits too. Matt assured him he'd immediately entered an appeal, but Bucky had a feeling that wasn't going to go anywhere.
No one wanted him to see the light of day again. They didn't want to give him an inch, not after what had happened. And could he even blame them?
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Steve's anguished face as he pleaded with Zemo to let Jake go. He heard Jake's scream of pain. He felt Steve's arms wrapping around him, somehow—inexplicably—welcoming him back despite...everything.
Bucky tried to fill the long, empty hours by writing to Steve. He knew his letters would never reach him, but he couldn't stop filling page after page with scribbled messages to him. The words were burning in his chest, screaming to get out somehow. So he wrote.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
This should never have happened.
Even if you say it's not my fault, I know it is. I should have fought back somehow. I should have been stronger.
Is Jake okay? I don't have any right to ask, but I need to know: Did I damage him permanently?
Maybe it's a good thing he'll never see me again.
Maybe it's a good thing you never will either.
Most of Bucky's letters ended with an angry scribble, followed by tearing the page out, balling it up, and throwing it across the room. Soon, a pile of yellow balls of paper began to accumulate in the corner.
Bucky kept writing. Endlessly, pointlessly. It was the only thing he could do.
For my iniquities have gone over my head;
like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.
- Psalm 38:4