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sjsmith56 · 10 months

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Family - Part 2, From There To Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary - Told from Winnifred Barnes POV. Recounts friendship between Bucky and Steve. How Sarah Rogers’ death and Bucky being drafted affected all of them. Touches on Bucky’s female admirers.

Length - 4764 words

Warnings - normal parental worries, strain in Steve and Bucky’s friendship, fear of Bucky going to war.

Author notes - no real plot, just a few slice of life glimpses of the Barnes family. There is some subtext but I have deliberately left it ambiguous. It can be what you want to see into it.

<<Part 1

🔹🔹🔹🔹

October, 1936

It was what we all knew would happen. Sarah Rogers had been sick for several months and when she finally went into hospital it was just a matter of time. Just a few weeks from the day she was admitted she was gone and her son, Steve, at just 18 years old, was left alone in the world, except for us. Our son, Bucky, had been Steve's friend from childhood.

Steve was a sickly boy who was small, asthmatic, and seemed to catch every virus going around. His dad, who died from a mustard gas attack in France during World War I never saw his son as Steve was born a few months after he died. Sarah was left to look after him as best she could on the meagre widow's pension she received. In those early days she lived in Hell's Kitchen which is almost as bad as it sounds for a widow with a sickly son. Somehow, through hard work and a strong will, she earned enough to move to Brooklyn. The neighbourhood had its own issues but there was one thing here that Steve didn't have there ... Bucky.

He was our oldest child, born in 1917. Rebecca, our second was born in 1929. Bucky met Steve in 1930, when the smaller boy was 12. He was being beaten up by bullies who wanted his lunch money. If there was one thing Bucky couldn't stand it was bullies. Being a bigger, stronger boy himself he laid into those others who were pummelling Steve and showed them that they couldn't have their way all the time. He brought Steve home with him, his nose bleeding, a black eye forming, and his shirt ripped. I chipped a piece of ice off the ice block in the icebox and wrapped it in a rag, told the boy to hold it to his eye. Bucky put pressure on the bridge of Steve's nose to stop it bleeding. While he was doing that I went up into the attic looking for some of Bucky's shirts that he had outgrown. Surely he had one that Steve could wear so I could launder and mend the one he was wearing. When I came back down Steve was holding Rebecca in his arms as she had started to cry. Bucky just shrugged as he held the bleeding nose back and pressed the cold rag into Steve's eye. Rebecca just cooed at the boy and the smile on his face and Bucky's face was wonderful.

They were friends from that day on. Steve's mother found work as a cleaning lady and I asked if Steve could wait for her at our house, worried about him being alone. She had the same worries and readily agreed, offering to pay for my time.

"No, you don't need to pay us," I said. "The boys can do their homework and watch Rebecca while I get supper on. Bucky likes him and boys need good friends. We're happy to have him for a few hours until you pick him up."

He was with us every week day after school, doing homework, having a snack, playing with Rebecca. Occasionally they went out and canvassed the neighbourhood for soda bottles to cash in, or doing odd jobs. Both boys liked to keep busy. They showed initiative often and I know the money both boys earned made the difference during the Depression. In 1935 Sarah Rogers was able to get work as a nurse in a TB ward. It was better paying than the cleaning jobs and with Steve in high school she didn't worry about him being home alone. Bucky was already graduated and working at the docks but they hung around together on the evenings and weekends.

Steve had started drawing pictures during the times when he was too sick to go to school. Occasionally he stayed at our house, sitting on the parlour sofa with a blanket wrapped around him, his sketch book open on his lap. He was such a good artist and Bucky learned to draw from him. They would draw cartoons of their teachers and school friends. When Sarah began feeling poorly she was unable to work much. Steve drew some beautiful pictures for her; scenes of the ocean, or flowers on the flower boxes that hung on the railings of fire escapes. He was doing all the housework then, cooking, cleaning and laundry. His devotion to her when she couldn't work at all was touching. Bucky supported him as best he could during that time but there were moments when Steve pushed him away, insisting he could do it himself.

When Sarah became too sick to stay at home Steve took her to the hospital and they confirmed what she already knew in her heart. She had tuberculosis and it was in its final stages. Only Steve was allowed to see her and he had to wear a face mask, and cover up his clothes with a gown. Bucky would wait for him, if he wasn't working, and walk him back to the flat where he and Sarah had lived. There wasn't much talking between the two but Bucky felt it was important to be there for his friend.

On Thursday, October 15, Bucky clocked out of his shift at the docks and came out to Steve waiting for him. As soon as he saw Bucky he began to sob and that's when my son knew that Steve's mother was gone. Now, working on the docks is very physical and manly. Softness isn't something looked kindly on. But at that moment Bucky just held his friend, hugging him hard and rubbing his back. He ignored the looks he got from the men coming off shift and was just there for his friend. Gradually Steve stopped crying and Bucky brought him home. We already knew as Sarah had put us down as next of kin and the hospital phoned. I hugged him. So did Rebecca. Gently I asked him if he had enough to pay for her funeral. He nodded.

"When Ma first got sick she called the American Legion and I guess she asked about helping a widow of a deceased veteran to pay for her own funeral," he said. "They offered her $25. I've been saving ever since. It's not much but it's enough. I'll have to put a headstone on her grave later, when I've saved up some more."

Bucky looked at me then at his friend. "I have some money," he offered. "It's yours."

"No, I can't take your money," said Steve. "I'll find a way."

Bucky insisted but Steve was firm. Then he stood up and thanked us for our sympathy and he began to leave. He wouldn't listen to our pleas to stay with us, said he was a man now and a man took care of his family himself, even when he was the only one left in the family.

A few days later we went to the funeral. It was a closed casket as Steve couldn't afford to pay for the embalming. The casket was little more than a plain box but again it was what the boy could afford. I bought a bouquet of flowers and we laid it on top so that Sarah would have something pretty to go with her to her final resting place. There were a few other mourners there as the Legion had posted a notice and some of Joe Roger's fellow soldiers who had survived the Great War came to pay their respects to his widow. As we took the final walk from the undertakers to the cemetery Bucky stayed beside his friend, worried about him having the strength to walk the mile distance.

At the cemetery the priest, as the Rogers' were Catholic, spoke the words that would consecrate Sarah Roger's soul to her maker. We didn't understand a word of it as it was in Latin but Steve and several of the mourners seemed to know what the responses were and we followed their lead. When the priest said the words "cinis in cinerem, pulvis ad pulvis" Steve picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it on the casket as it was being lowered. We understood he meant the phrase "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" and tossed some dirt on the wooden box. Bucky put his arm around Steve's shoulder, while I held his hand on the other side. The boy never cried but his face was stricken with grief.

I invited several of the mourners to our house for some coffee and sandwiches. It took a while to walk there and they filed in quietly into our parlour as I took my coat off and and put my apron on. Rebecca, even though she was only seven years old came into the kitchen to help, bless her good heart. Steve sat there with a sandwich on a plate in one hand and a coffee in the other, looking lost and completely devastated. Suddenly he stood up, put his food down and looked at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry but I can't stay."

He ran out the door and I told Bucky to follow him. When he came back a few hours later, well after the other mourners had left and I cleaned up after them he was sad and a little perplexed.

"He couldn't even find his door key," said Bucky. "I had to give him the one hidden under the brick."

"Did you ask him to live with us?" I asked. "We can squeeze another bed into your room."

"I told him but he said he could take care of himself. Why does he have to be so stubborn?"

"He's a man now," I replied, stroking Bucky's hair. "Has been ever since he started to look after his mother. It's hard for a man to accept help. Doesn't mean we won't help him."

Bucky looked at me with those blue eyes I loved so much. His thick dark hair was just like his father's had been and he had his strong features. I knew he was already popular with the girls but I also knew he understood how to keep a girl out of trouble. But what Steve was going through had Bucky perplexed that his friend wouldn't accept charity.

"How can we help him, Ma?"

"We offer our help with love, encourage him to believe that it's not weakness to accept it," I said. "You keep treating him the way you have since you became friends. He needs to know that will be the same. He doesn't want pity, but our understanding is another matter. I'll tell him his mother asked me to watch over him and that if he doesn't accept that then he's not honouring his mother."

"You're gonna guilt him," he smiled. "That's sneaky."

"Maybe, but I can't in good conscience let him wallow in misery, can I?" she said. "What if the tables were turned and it was you mourning me. What would you want him to do?"

My son pondered a while and then nodded his head in understanding. "I would want him to treat me the same as he always did. So, I guess I'll still tease him a little, build up his confidence a little, and just be quiet with him when he needs that."

I hugged Bucky quickly then patted him on the back. He always was smart. Together we would get Steve through this time.

Over the years it was hard for Steve and there were times when he felt terrible accepting our help but Bucky was always there to tell him we saw him as family and you have to help family. Through odd jobs, scrounging, and the occasional birthday or Christmas gift that included some folded cash hidden in it we helped Steve continue to live on his own, although he moved into a single room flat from the two bedroom one he had shared with Sarah. There was a standing invitation to Sunday dinner at our house and I always made sure to give him lots of leftovers that could be left in the small icebox he had in his room. Then he could heat it up on the hot plate.

〰️

December 1941 - March 1942

Five years and a couple of months after Steve's mother died the world, which was already in some turmoil with the Nazis taking over Europe and threatening to invade England, was thrown into more chaos when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. One day Americans were going about their business and the next day we were at war. The Selective Service act had been passed that fall of 1941 and both boys registered for the draft. Bucky got his notice just before Christmas and was ordered to report to the Brooklyn enlistment office in January. Steve got his notice as well just a couple of days later, and the two went together to undergo their physical. Bucky passed, was declared 1A and told to report for basic training at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin in February. Steve, as was expected, was declared 4F and took it hard.

Before he left Bucky tried to help Steve build up some muscle by taking him to the gym and training him the same way he had been trained when he took up boxing. It was a noble gesture but all the years of being sick hadn't allowed Steve the ability to withstand any sort of physical activity. He tried to enlist again just before Bucky left for basic training and once again he was rejected as 4F. George, myself and Bucky tried to encourage him to get involved in the war effort in other ways but he didn't want to hear it. I suspected he was going to other towns and trying to enlist under other names. He wasn't the first one to try as any number of men who wanted to serve their country but were considered unsuitable for combat also tried. Some succeeded, most didn't.

On the day Bucky had to go I made sure his clothes were clean and mended. He had all of his toiletries. We stood on the railway platform, George, Rebecca, Steve, and me, trying to milk out as much time with Bucky as we could before he absolutely had to board. Then his father offered Bucky his hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.

"You'll do alright, son," said my husband. "You have a good head on your shoulders and you're used to hard work. That's all the army needs from you."

Bucky kneeled down to his sister and looked fondly at her. Despite the great difference in their ages he had been a wonderful brother and Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck then kissed his cheek. She began to cry and he took his handkerchief, wiping the tears away before kissing her forehead. He looked at Steve next and they hugged.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said to Steve.

"How can I when you're taking the stupid with you," replied Steve.

"Punk."

"Jerk."

They gave each other a little push and laughed nervously. Then Bucky turned to me and I had to swallow down the sob that was threatening to envelop me. My son, my only boy, was preparing to go to war. When did he become so tall and so handsome? When did he start shaving and wearing aftershave? My eyes began to fill with tears ... I couldn't help it.

"Ma, don't cry," he whispered as he enclosed me in his muscular arms. "I'll get leaves and come home to see you each time. The rumour is that once we're in it we'll chase Hitler right back to Germany in no time. I'll be careful, I promise."

Once again he pulled his handkerchief out and he dabbed at the tears on my cheek. The conductor called for everyone to get on board and Bucky picked up his valise, kissing me again quickly on the cheek. He showed his ticket to the conductor and got on with a final wave. We watched as he found his seat in the car and placed his valise in the rack above. Then he sat at the window and tried to lower it but it was locked and he shrugged. A whistle sounded and the locomotive gave a great gust of hissing steam as it began to pull the the cars behind it. Rebecca chased after it for a bit until George called her back and the train left the station with Bucky on it, leaving us four, his family, behind.

We didn't hear anything from him that first month. George, being a veteran of the First World War himself, said that was normal as the boys would be learning so much at boot camp. They would have their hair cut that first day, receive their fatigues, boots, underwear, shaving kits; the army supplied everything. Physical training would begin and I had no doubt that Bucky would excel in that. He was used to road training, running, as a boxer, and working at the docks had made him physically strong. George said his boxing skills would come to good use as he learned other methods to disarm a man. There would be marching to get the soldiers used to working as a unit and learning to trust the men they marched with.

"They won't even get into firing their rifles until the drill sergeant is satisfied they're ready to handle it," said George, recalling his own military career which ended when he lost his eye in an accident.

Six weeks after Bucky left we received our first letter and it was as George said, right down to the army giving them their own shaving kits. There was no picture of Bucky but he did ask for a picture of us and he gave permission for us to share the address with anyone who asked. I knew he meant any one of the girls he had dated as several had already asked to write him. We received letters every week from him and on the 12th week he informed us he would be given a week's leave after the following week of training.

The man who stepped off the train that day was not the boy who left. My first thought, and I'm sure George thought the same thing, was that this man was going places. Even though Bucky was confident before, the man we saw stepping off the train was incredibly sure of himself and very aware of the figure he cut. He seemed taller, broader, and noticeably drew the attention of all the women, young and old, waiting at the station for their loved one. His uniform was impeccable, his boots shone, and his smile when he saw us was as bright as the sun. Rebecca grasped his hand and he held it all the way out to the car, then opened the door for her and for me, like a real gentleman.

"Looks like the army agrees with you, son," said George, looking at him in the rear view mirror. "How has it been?"

"Good, I'm actually getting a promotion to Corporal and being sent for special training," he said. "All those times at the shooting galleries at Coney Island and Rockaway Beach are paying off. I'm the best marksman in the unit. When I'm finished in November I'll be made a Sergeant and return to finish out my training with the 107th."

"I'm proud of you son," said George but he gave Bucky a look which he acknowledged. I didn't know what had passed between them but I gathered George wanted to have a talk with him later. "Any one you know in the unit?"

"A couple of guys that I fought against when I was boxing," he replied, "and a few more that I faced in basketball or football. We've banded together whenever we get 24 hour liberty. Brooklyn boys have to stick together." He was quiet for a moment. "How's Steve doing?"

I looked at George. "He's still trying to enlist," I said. "Still getting classified 4F. He's coming for dinner tonight."

"Sure, but I do have a date later," he said nonchalantly. "Met a nurse on the train. She's staying with her sister in the Bronx. We're meeting at a dance hall. Don't wait up for me."

George and I exchanged glances. Bucky already had a date. That wouldn't go over well with about half a dozen girls who had his camp address and had been writing him religiously. Still, you were only young once. By the time we got to the house Steve was waiting on the stoop. He stood up as George parked the car; his eyes widened as he saw Bucky step out.

"How you doing?" asked Bucky, offering his hand to his friend. "Staying out of trouble?"

"I've had a few moments," replied the smaller man. "You look good. Did you grow?"

"Yeah, the army chow is better than they say," replied Bucky. "Not as good as Ma's food but I can have seconds with no problem. I have a date tonight, have one lined up for you if you want."

Steve blushed but said nothing. George unlocked the door and we all went inside so I could start preparing dinner. There was more talk about basic training with George adding some of his own experiences to the conversation. When dinner was finished George got out his pipe and tobacco, intending to go out back for a smoke.

"Okay if I join you, Dad?" asked Bucky, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

Steve followed them outside and I began cleaning up. Rebecca offered to help but I suggested she get her homework done. I watched the three men through the kitchen window. George sat in an Adirondack chair that he assembled years ago. He was listening intently to something that Bucky was telling him, puffing on his pipe. Bucky held his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, like many working men of the day. Steve just listened, as if he was happy to be there. Eventually they all came in and Bucky put his arm around my shoulders.

"That was a real good meal, Ma," he said warmly. "Your food is still the best."

"Thank you." I patted him on the cheek. "What time are you leaving for your date?"

"Right away," he said. "We have to get Steve dressed right, then take the subway to the dance hall. You're okay if I bunk at Steve's tonight?"

I smiled and nodded, knowing that meant he expected to stay the night with his date. It was never really spoken of between Bucky and me, but George had told me of having the "talk" with him when he was 17 about boundaries, and being a gentleman. As far as I knew he never got a girl in trouble. If he had there would have been expectations of him to make it right as it would be our grandchild that needed a father.

After he and Steve left George turned the radio on. I finished cleaning up in the kitchen then brought some mending into the parlour so I could keep my hands busy while we listened to the music. Rebecca had finished her homework and was reading a book. Once she went to bed George waited for a while to make sure she was asleep then he gave me that look that indicated he had something important to say. I put my mending down and looked at him with curiosity.

"That special training they're sending Bucky on? It's sniper training. Killing men from a distance."

He put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache so I knew it bothered him.

"How do they decide who does that?" I asked. "They did have them in the Great War, didn't they?"

"They did and we hated them," he replied. "Not the ones on our side but the German ones. They seemed to target the best of men and took them out without any chance of them surviving with shots to the head. We thought of them as merciless killers ... and now they want to make my son one of them. I know it's war but a sniper ...." He gave a big sigh. "Bucky wasn't joking that his time on the shooting galleries probably made him a good shot. Those rifles are rigged and he still cleaned up. Right from the moment they began marksmanship he said the drill sergeants were impressed with him."

"Does he know you feel this way?" I asked gently.

He shook his head. "How could I tell my son that? He's a good boy, a good man, who is going to be doing a thankless job but a necessary one." George looked at me with sadness and acceptance in his eyes. "Don't say anything to him. I'm only telling you because I tell you everything and I had to tell someone."

I nodded my agreement not to say anything but it was hard to picture my Bucky hiding somewhere in a battleground or a village, aiming his rifle at people, then pulling the trigger and ending their lives so quickly. When we went to bed I knew it still bothered George as he touched me in the way he did when he wanted me. This time he wanted comfort and I gladly gave it to him, the man I loved since I first laid eyes on him in 1915.

Bucky arrived back home about 11 o'clock the following morning. He looked a little worse for the wear and sheepishly asked if I could wash and press his uniform shirt. While he changed out of his uniform I called up and asked if he could do some yard work for me. He came down with his shirt in his hand and waited for me to tell him what I wanted.

"How was your date?" I asked.

"It was okay, Myrna was a good dancer," he said. "Wasn't happy with her sister Betty. She took one look at Steve and wouldn't go out with him. Said so right to his face. Myrna talked to her and she agreed to sit with us in the hall but after a couple of dances with him she saw friends on the other side and went to sit with them. He stuck it out for a while then left when I was on the dance floor. Didn't even say goodbye. I drank too much after as I was angry and once I got Myrna and Betty back home safely I drank some more. Barely made it back to Steve's but he was awake still and helped me settle down."

I turned to look at my son with concern on my face. He had never admitted to being drunk to me. His eyes met mine and I could see there was something further he wanted to say. Then he swallowed and handed me his shirt.

"What can I do in the yard for you?"

"The frost is gone from the garden bed," I said. "Could you turn the dirt over? There's some manure in the shed that you can work into it."

"Sure, I can do that, Ma," he said, then he smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

He went out every night the rest of that week, with each of the different girls who had been writing him. Steve didn't come around and I wondered if they had a disagreement but Bucky never said anything. When it came time for Bucky to return to camp we took him to the train. His girlfriends were all there and he kissed each one of them on the lips, smiling at them after. Then he turned to us and said goodbye to Rebecca first. His goodbye to his father was next, and it was very masculine and proper between them. Finally, he looked at me and hugged me hard, whispering that he loved me. With tears in my eyes I put my hand on his cheek and smiled, trying to be strong for him. He stepped on the stair into the train and looked past us for a moment, as if he was searching for someone then stepped inside, found his seat and put his valise up on the overhead rack. As the train began to pull away he raised his hand in goodbye. We didn't see him again until Christmas.

Part 3 >>

Series Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #ww2 bucky #steve rogers #winnifred barnes #george barnes #one shot

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salad-of-potatoes · 4 months

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Thinking about Becca Barnes being Peggy’s assistant

After her brothers passing away, she tries to stay safe the best she can. The last thing she wants to do is have their parents- both her mom, dad, and aunt Sarah- grieve another child.

She gets offered basic training but Bec declines, just needing a simple office job. It doesn’t matter what she wanted, this was safe.

It’s nice to get out of the house with a full time job. Seeing Jimmy’s old sciencey-stuff around the house is just depressing.

Peggy dropping off her godson for Becca to watch from time to time, and they get along great. He’s a lonely kid- but so smart and so bright. He doesn’t know much about socializing, and it’s nice to teach him things.

And soon Bucky’s old stuff has a new owner.

#god I bet none of this makes sense #Becky Barnes #Rikki Barnes #Peggy Carter #Anthony Stark #Edwin Jarvis #Godmom Peggy Carter #James Bucky Barnes #Sarah Rogers #Steve Rogers #Winnifred Barnes #George Barnes #Captain America Family

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mccarthawrites · 1 year

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Thanksgiving with the Barnes

Relationship: Bucky Barnes/OC!Rachel Barnes

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Bucky and Rachel host Thanksgiving in their small apartment.

Author’s Note: Rachel’s sister is Rose Roberts from Agent Carter.

Words: 1354

The Barnes Masterlist || Bucky Barnes Masterlist

It seemed like Rachel had been planning this Thanksgiving dinner for months. It was the first one she and Bucky were hosting since he’d come home. She invited his parents and siblings and her siblings, Rose and Fred. It would pack their tiny apartment, but it would be worth it. Despite his best attempts to help, Bucky couldn’t do much now being one-handed, so Steve was tasked with getting Bucky out of the apartment so he didn’t focus on not being able to help. So they decided to walk around Prospect Park for a few hours.

Rachel enlisted the help of her sister, Rose to help her cook and Bucky’s mother, Winnifred, showed up early as well.. Winnifred bought Rose and Rachel new aprons as an early Christmas gift. They came in handy with the three women doing their best with the small kitchen.

“George is bringing a small folding table because I don’t think Katie and David are going to fit at the table with the rest of us.” Winnifred explained as she prepared the Turkey.

“I’m sure we can squeeze them on the table.” Rachel told her.

“But he’ll bring the table just in case. Especially if your brother is coming. That’s ten of us.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m so glad you’re all joining us. I know Bucky is happy about it too.” Rachel explained. “It’s been a long year, but

“Freddy said he might stop by for a beer or two. He’s probably eating at aunt Gladys’ house.” Rose reported.

“He’s going to come by and get a second dinner. You know how he is.” Rachel laughed. Alpine sat on the dining table, watching them curiously through the kitchen pass-through. Also probably trying to figure out how he was going to get a piece of turkey.

“How is my boy doing?” Winnifred asked. “He’s been adjusting well?”

“I think so. He’s okay. Just hates the prosthetics is all. I told him he doesn’t have to wear one for dinner.” Rachel explained. “But he’s already talking about having kids.”

“It’s about time.” Rose playfully elbowed her sister.

“We’d have to find a bigger place if we wanted to start a family, though.”

“Have you been looking? You could get a house in Queens.” Winnifred suggested.

“Queens? I don’t think Bucky wants to leave Brooklyn.” Rachel replied.

“Little dark haired blue-eyed babies. Imagine it, kid.” Rose smiled.

“I hope they come out looking like Bucky. They don’t need anything from the Roberts side.” Rachel laughed.

“Why? The Roberts have beautiful women.” Winnifred replied.

“Thanks, Winnie.” Rose smiled.

When Bucky and Steve returned to the apartment most of the cooking was done. They hung up their coats.

“Smells good in here!” Bucky knew better than to step foot in the kitchen. “You ladies doing alright in there? Need any help?”

“We’re fine.” Rachel greeted him with a kiss, but if you could set the table, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Will do. Do you need anything else?”

“No. We’ve got everything else covered. Maybe put on a record or the radio.”

“Okay.”

“No Christmas music!” Rose yelled. “It’s too early for Christmas music.”

“What are you talking about? The radio has already begun playing Christmas music.” Rachel returned to the kitchen.

“Christmastime doesn’t start until the day after Thanksgiving. They’ve got it all wrong!”

“Sure, Rose.”

“You haven’t even gotten your Christmas tree up yet, so you agree with me somewhere deep inside.” Rose teased.

“We haven’t gone to get our tree yet.” Rachel told her.

“We usually don’t set up our tree until the first of December. We have an artificial one so we don’t have such a mess at the end of the season. Oh! We found Bucky’s ornament from his first Christmas. I have to drop it off sometime soon.” Winnifred explained. “We have one for all of them.”

“That’s adorable. I wish someone would just marry me already so I can have cute family traditions already.” Rose whined.

“It’ll happen. You just have to stop looking for love and it’ll find you.” Winnifred replied.

“How’d you meet George?” Rose asked.

“He was working on my daddy’s car. He was so handsome. Asked my daddy’s permission to take me out on a date. The rest is history.” Winnifred explained.

“Why can’t I have that?” Rose asked.

“You will.” Winnifred smiled. “Stop worrying.”

“What about the man from work?” Rachel asked.

“Which one?” Rose laughed. Someone knocked on the door. Steve opened it to find George and the kids.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” George called from the front door.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Steve smiled.

“Where’s Alpine?” Katie pushed past her father into the apartment.

“Hi, Pop.” Bucky greeted his father.

“How are ya, kid?” George asked.

“I’m doing alright.” Bucky took George’s jacket and hung it up.

“I brought a table for the youngest incase they didn’t fit at the table.” George set the folding table against the wall.

“I think we’ll all fit at the table, but thanks.”

“Hi, Buck.” Rebecca hugged him.

“Wow! You’ve grown at least four inches since I last saw you.” He teased. Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed by him.

“Hello, ladies.” George greeted them through the pass-through. “Do you need any help in there?”

“Not yet, but you can bring the turkey to the table in a few minutes.” Winnifred told him.

“That’s great news! I thought we were going to have to wait longer to eat. It smells so good in here. I cannot wait.” He told them. David and Katie had found Alpine and were playing with him. “How’s the factory treating you?” George asked his son.

“It’s alright. Nothing to complain about.” Buck shrugged.

“If you ever need a change of scenery, you’re welcome to come work with me at the garage.”

“Thanks, but I already told you, I don’t think I can work on cars with-” He pointed at his empty sleeve.

“We’d find a way. They’ve got prosthetics nowadays for nearly everything. I’m sure there’s one for mechanical work.”

“That’s okay, Pop. I don’t mind the factory.”

“George, can you bring the turkey to the table?” Winnifred asked.

“Only if you give me a kiss.” George got up and walked to the kitchen. Winnifred kissed him as she handed off the turkey.

“See. That’s what I want.” Rose commented, making Rachel laugh.

“Come on. We gotta bring this stuff to the table.”

“Honey, that's what I had children for.” Winnifred replied, teasingly. “David and Katie go wash your hands and help us bring things to the table please.”

Once they had brought all the food to the table, everyone was seated. Winnifred said a prayer and they began going around saying what they were Thankful for while Steve carved the turkey, starting with Winnifred.

“I am grateful that the war is over and my family is together again. I am also grateful that we’re all together today.” Winnifred smiled. “George?”

“I’m grateful to see all my children around this table. I’m also grateful that we have Rachel and Rose in the family.” He playfully winked at Bucky.

“Oh. Uh- well I’m glad you’re all here. I’m grateful for my wife and this meal that she prepared with mom and Rose.” Bucky took Rachel’s hand in his and kissed it.

“I’m grateful Bucky is home. And I’m grateful for you all. So thank you for being here. Rosie?”

“My turn? Well I am grateful for the Barnes family. You really are some of my favorite people. Who’s next?” Rose asked.

“I’m grateful for Alpine!” Katie exclaimed, making everyone laugh.

“I’m grateful that we’re all together again. Like mom said.” Rebecca kept her eyes on her plate.

“I’m grateful for-” David thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Could be anything.”

“Oh. Well- I’m grateful for mom, Rachel and Rose for making the food!” David told them.

“Stevey?” Winnifred asked.

“I’m grateful for everyone at this table. You guys all mean the world to me.” He continued carving the turkey. Bucky and Rachel’s heart swelled with the love they had for everyone. For the first time since the war ended, things seemed normal again.

#Marvel Cinematic Universe #Captain America: The First Avenger #Agent Carter #Bucky Barnes #James 'Bucky' Barnes #Winnifred Barnes #George Barnes #Rebecca Barnes #Rose Roberts #Steve Rogers

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rebecca-winnifred-barnes · 1 year

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Winnifred Barnes??

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there🤍 If the MCU cast someone as Winnifred Barnes for a 1940’s flashback scene, who do you think it should be??

#i think ellen pompeo is perfect for Winnifred fight me on it #bucky’s mother is perfect I refuse to believe otherwise #winnifred barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #rebecca barnes

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beautiful-monsters-raging · 2 years

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The Adventures of Winifred Barnes and Sarah Rogers, Friendly Neighborhood Abortionists by SharpestScalpel

Other considered names for this fic include: "No, Really, Sarah Rogers Hates Calvin Coolidge" and "Bucky And Steve Are Great But Check Out Their Mothers." Wherever little Stevie Rogers went, Bucky Barnes was sure to follow. But the neighborhood wasn't surprised by that, not with the way the widow Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes got on together. And if girls in need of help found their way to those women, well. The neighborhood would always take care of its own. In which Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes are a force to be reckoned with both alone and together, provide a certain service to girls who find themselves in trouble, raise their children, survive Black Tuesday, and save each other's lives in more ways than one.

______

This is an absolutely magnificent work of fiction that deals with abortion in a humane and thoughtful light, while also being a well-needed tribute to two overlooked female characters and just a darn good read. I hope everyone enjoys it, and maybe even leans from the courages and sisterhood of the protagonists.

(check the tags for warnings, which include mentions of noncon, mentions of period-typical attitude towards pretty much everything, implied alcoholism, Catholicism with its ups and downs, xenophobia, discusses of domestic/child abuse, and 30s medicine)

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gay-jewish-bucky · 9 months

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I think Bucky's parents immigrated to America from a small shtetl in rural Romania. Winnie and George (which are English names they adopted in an effort to more easily fit into American society) had recently married and wanted to escape rising antisemitic violence in eastern Europe, especially in the form of pogroms, and they hoped for a better life for any potential future children they might be blessed with.

Bucky and his sisters grew up enthralled by stories their parents told them about the lives they lived in their small, but incredibly tightknit, Jewish community. The children also picked up bits and pieces of the little Romanian their parents spoke in front of them, it's just enough to understand the language, but not enough to speak it proficiently.

Bucky winds up in Bucharest after escaping Hydra, it's not an intentional choice, it's a magnetic pull to the place that has been etched into his family's DNA for generations.

His Romanian is spotty, but he's quickly embraced by a group of kind old bubbies who keep him fed by hiring him to do manual labour since he shies away from direct hospitality. When they take him to one of the last remaining synagogues in the country for service, he breaks down in tears as the stories his parents told come flooding back in vivid colour, overtaken by equal measures of grief and wonder.

#marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #winnifred barnes #george barnes #Assorted Jewish Writings - Marriage/Family/Home

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barneswilsonrogers · 1 year

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Who is your fancast for Bucky's sister Becca?

Once a Sambucky fan on twitter cast Daisy Ridley as Becca for her fic, and I haven't been able to separate the two ever since. Like every time I read a fic that has her in it, an image of Daisy popped in my head lol.

#yall see the resemblance right??#she also cast Colin firth as George and Julianne as Winnifred #which i also think its perfecttt #bucky barnes #rebecca barnes

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sweetbuckybarnes · 4 months

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Who is This? - How They Met

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/N talks about how she met James Barnes and how she found herself in the modern world. Follow on from this fic.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

"I'm sorry, what was that? Wife? You two are married?" Sam asked, looking between Bucky and Y/N.

"Indeed we are, aren't we darling?"

Y/N looked at Bucky first with a smile then with dead eyes. "I'm still pissed with you," Sam couldn't place her accent. It was a strange combination of Brooklyn, southern and English.

"Babydoll," Bucky sighed, as his wife got up from the couch and walked to the kitchenette.

"No. Don't you babydoll, me. I had two officers with a telegram in their hand as they flat out told me you had fallen off a train in the Alps of all places, whilst you were on some stupid mission with Steve, they never went looking for you, they simply declared you were missing and you were most likely dead."

Bucky's face falls, realising how much she had missed him after he fell off the train. After he had escaped to Bucharest, his memories came back in flashes - her face had always been there front and centre. He never had the time to sit Steve down and ask him about the gorgeous girl in his memories. It had taken another trip to the Smithsonian Institution - and that's when he saw her further into the exhibition, her arms in both Bucky and Steve's as she looked up at him in awe. Bucky and Y/N were married on January 15, 1941 - four weeks after Bucky signed up.

He gets up also, leaving the blanket which once covered them in a ball on the couch. "Sweetheart," he said softly.

"They told me on our fucking anniversary as well!" The tears couldn't be held back as they started rolling down her cheeks.

"It may be late, but happy anniversary," Bucky says, which gets a watery sob out of Y/N - who returns the sentiment.

Sam walks around the couple and into the kitchenette. "How long have you two now been married then?"

They looked at each other. "If you don't count the time we were separated, three years."

"And if you do?" Sharon asks.

"Eighty-three."

"Seems like I owe you a lot of anniversary presents. And birthdays, and Christmas..." Bucky trails off. "Seeming like I'll always be in debt to you, doll."

She shakes her head, "I have you here now. That's the only present I need."

"So how did you two meet?" Sam asks.

August 3rd, 1922

It was the first day at Brooklyn Heights Elementary School. Winnifred Barnes held her eldest son's hand as she took him to school.

Little James Barnes was terrified, it would be his first full day away from his ma, he didn't know anyone and he had a strong feeling like he wanted to cry (his father George had firmly told him men don't cry).

The mother and son duo were stood in front of a little peg, which had his name stuck to it, he was in between someone called Steve and someone called Y/N (the little girl had already taken her coat off - which her mother was hanging up for her, as she dug through her backpack on the floor).

"Y/N what have I told you about sitting on the floor like that?" Y/N's mother said, cupping her hands underneath her armpits and sat her on her knees.

"I can't find my crayons, mama!" Y/N exclaimed, looking up at her mama.

James looked down into his backpack and saw the small pack of crayons his father had brought back home one night. "We can share mine," he tells the little girl on the floor, sitting down next to her.

She looked at him with a big smile. Even at four years old, he couldn't help but think she was the prettiest girl in the world.

"That's how you got your girl? Crayons when you were four?" Sam asks.

"No, I had always known she was beautiful, but it took me a long time to persuade her for a date."

Y/N looked at her husband with a singular raised eyebrow. "You went from girl to girl with no consideration of their feelings. I didn't want to be put on the same list."

"Not a chance, since we locked eyes on that cold floor in elementary school, I have always been yours."

January 15, 1940

"Please, doll," Bucky nearly begged, as Y/N made her way around the counter at the local diner where she currently works. "Just one date."

"No, James, you can't ask me just because you don't have a date for the night."

Bucky sighed, he loved how she was the only one (apart from his ma when he annoyed her) who still called him James. "But, doll."

"And what have I told you about calling me doll?"

"I could take you to Coney Island," which was shut down saying that was his and Steve's 'place to hang out without her'. Bucky denied it, saying that it wasn't right that he and Steve spent time together without her. "What about the movies?"

"The three of us have already seen everything at the movies right now."

Bucky looked at the ceiling, as he fiddled with his ice cream float. "You don't want to go to Coney Island, we've seen everything at the movies and you don't want to go to a diner..."

He heard someone make a passing comment that the river in that park upstate had frozen over and was perfect for. "Ice skating! That's it, I'll take you ice skating!"

Y/N looked over at him, "Will it shut you up?" He nodded. "Fine, you can take me ice skating."

Bucky let out a loud cheer. "I promise you, you won't regret it, babydoll."

Bucky leaned over pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran out of the diner - he missed Y/N rubbing her cheek with a growing smile on her face.

"You were smitten with me?"

"Since day one, babydoll."

They shared a kiss when the door was pushed open by someone who looked like he had a homemade costume Steve used to wear. "What the hell?"

"Alright, that's it. Your time is up. Tell me where Zemo is," someone came storming in, dressed like Steve, shield in one hand as he pointed at the other people in the room. Y/N looked from Bucky to Sam to Sharon and then back to Bucky.

"We know you're hiding him," his sidekick added, crossing his arms.

The Captain America wannabe ordered them to turn over Zemo, which Y/N countered with a comment about the Captain America wannabe running his mouth.

"How did I miss you?" He flirts.

Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, then looked up at Bucky (who whispered into her ear that they were trying to get the shield back). "Give me a second," She puts on a look on her face and makes her way over to the Captain America wannabe. "Oh my God, is that the shield?" She could see him preen at her words. "Can I have a look at it?"

Stupidly, he hands her the shield, Y/N looks it over, and then up at him. "Thanks," and makes her way back to Bucky.

"What are you doing with my shield?"

"I think you mean, my shield. Considering that it technically belongs to me."

Captain America wannabe looked at her confused, what the hell was she talking about? "Who even are you?"

"Who am I? He doesn't know, James!" Y/N looked up at Bucky. "He doesn't know!" The couple laughed. "I'm Y/N, Steve's half-sister, and this muppet's wife."

"Wait, so how did you end up 80 years in the future?" Sam asks as the trio settles in for the night.

"Howard wanted to make another Super Soldier after the war after Steve had 'died'," she puts quotes around died, then turns her head to look at Bucky. "Yes, I know what happened to Howard and Maria," Bucky's face fell - she knew what he had done as the Winter Soldier(the war crimes he had committed had been plastered all over the news during his trial).

Sam looked between Bucky and Y/N as he asked. "What happened? I presume you volunteered."

She nods her head. "I did. But, something went wrong. They gave me the serum, and I remember collapsing to the floor and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the year 2019, Steve's face over the top of mine, tears in his eyes, saying he was so happy to see me."

"Steve knew you were alive?" Bucky asked, looking at his wife in surprise. There were about two weeks between the Battle of Earth and Steve went back to the past.

"I don't remember much from when I woke up, because I was falling in and out of sleep, for a long time." She says, looking up at the ceiling.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #reader #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #follow up to previous bucky fic #People were asking for it #So ta da!

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 month

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The Eye of the Hurricane [12] - Chase

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some car rides aren’t relaxing.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You hummed a song as you walked through the luxurious duplex penthouse, following the real estate agent who looked thrilled to be there.

“The skyline is absolutely gorgeous as you can see,” she said. “And just letting you know, I already have three very interested buyers—”

“They’ll wait,” you stated calmly and she paused for a moment, then smiled at you.

“Of course!” she said. “Just—you know, just a fun fact! Anyway, this floor has an open kitchen and two guest bedrooms, a bathroom…”

“Two guest rooms?”

“One of which could be turned into a nursery,” she said and winked at you. “Or you could hire me when it’s time for a family home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a weary smile, “but let’s just take that off the table for the moment.”

She held up her hands.

“And the upstairs has the primary bedroom suite with its own breathtaking terrace of course, the master bathroom and two walk in closets. Perfect for a newlywed couple if you ask me!”

You nodded your head. “Are the windows bulletproof?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“…I doubt it?” she said. “But we’re on the 50th floor.”

“And surrounded by other 50 floor skyscrapers,” you said and heaved a sigh. “That’s fine, we’ll get it fixed if we decide on this one.”

“Would you like to see the terrace?” she motioned and before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky stepping into the apartment.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said and approached you to press a kiss on top of your head, then turned to the real estate agent. “Viola. It's a pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine Mr. Barnes,” she said with a giggle, a smile lighting up her face and you looked between them, raising your brows.

“Would you give us a moment while we check the terrace please, Viola?” you asked as you pulled Bucky by his vibranium arm to the huge sliding glass doors, then stepped outside.

Dear God, the skyline was absolutely gorgeous.

“So,” Bucky said. “What do you think?”

You clicked your tongue. “Before I answer that, I have a quick question.”

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck our real estate agent?”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows together. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well because she got all flustered and smiley, and if you did it’s totally fine but it’s gonna be a little awkward honestly—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “She helped with Becca’s apartment, that’s how we know each other.”

“You own multiple skyscrapers in this part of the town and you needed a real estate agent?”

“Do I look like I am personally handling any of the buildings I own?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, fine…” you said. “So why were you late again? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“My mom dropped by the office,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you frowned.

“Why?”

“She wants us to reconsider the guest list.”

“You mean she wants us to invite more people?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Yup. Good for business, apparently.”

“The guest list and the seating chart are already finished,” you said and he sat down on the nearest sofa which looked so comfortable from where you were standing.

“I mean, would inviting more people hurt?”

“Yeah Bucky, it would hurt my head,” you said as you glanced at the fireplace in the corner of the terrace, then flung yourself on the armchair across from the sofa. “Winnifred is such a boy mom.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a small laugh. “She loves you.”

“Uh huh, until our divorce.”

He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m kind of convinced your father might actually shoot me when we announce our divorce, so...”

“He won’t shoot you,” you told him, waving a hand in the air. “That being said, we’re not inviting more people.”

“I told her the same thing, that’s why it took me half an hour to convince her,” he said, leaning back to shoot you a mischievous grin. “But I think she’ll get over it if we promise to name our firstborn daughter after her.”

You hummed. “You can get a fish.”

“A fish?”

“A tankful of them, you can name all of them after your family members,” you said and sat up straighter. “So, the apartment?”

“I’m good with it if you are,” he said and stole a look at the windows. “I don’t know shit about this building though, are the windows bulletproof?”

“I asked the same thing, she said probably not.”

“It’s fine, we can get that fixed,” he said and you felt a smile curling your lips, then kicked at his shoe with yours.

“Come on,” you said as you got up from the armchair. “We should take a look at upstairs, apparently the terrace there is breathtaking as well.”

Apart from the fact that it only had two guest rooms, the penthouse was absolutely perfect. You figured since you were going to get a divorce, you didn’t really need multiple guest rooms at this point, and you were pretty sure you were going to use one of them as an armory anyway.

Before you would meet Becca and Leila for dinner, your father had asked you for lunch together so after you were done at the penthouse -your new home, you reminded yourself- you made your way to the familiar skyscraper of your father’s company, but then checked your wristwatch and pursed your lips together.

You were half an hour early, and you really didn’t feel like seeing Ian any more than necessary.

You took a look at the café across from the skyscraper and lingered there for a moment, then approached there and sat down at a table. The waitress came to you to take your order and you ordered a latte before pulling out your phone to text Becca about the penthouse, but before you could send all the photos, someone pulled the chair across from yours to sit down, making your head snap up.

“Romanoff?” you squeaked out, staring at the beautiful redhead and she gave you a calm smile.

“Natasha is fine,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“Not—not at all!” you managed to say, sitting up straighter. Even though Natasha was one of the major player in the city, you two hadn’t really spent any time together just like you and Stark. You knew she was good friends with Steve and sort of friends with Bucky, but other than that, she was mostly a mystery to you.

“I had a meeting with your father,” she said, pointing at the building with her thumb. “Was just leaving when I saw you and I figured I could give you my congratulations about the wedding.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding fervently. “Thanks. I um—I really appreciate it.”

“Quite the fast wedding though,” she pointed out, making you gulp.

“Yeah we figured, you know, we’ve known each other for all our lives.”

“Right,” she said. “Of course. So are you going to take over right after the wedding then?”

Your eyes widened and you gawked at her while the waitress brought your coffee, and turned to her.

“Could I get you anything?”

“No thank you, I won’t stay for long,” Natasha said and the waitress walked away as you cleared your throat.

“Um, I—” you stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze was almost reprimanding as if you were trying to make her believe the table in front of her didn’t exist. You knew she was smart, no one who wasn’t smart would be able to survive at the top in this business for so long, but you had been hoping that you weren’t that obvious at the very least.

“I’m asking because if you’re going to do it at the wedding, I’m going to eat something beforehand,” she pointed out. “Considering your idiot cousin is not going to just let that happen, if bullets start flying…”

“What makes you think I want to take over?”

She let out a small laugh.

“Oh come on,” she said. “I never took you as naïve, the least you could do is return the favor. Not to mention, if you want me on your side when the time comes, you’re going to have to cut the bullshit.”

“And if that were true,” you said after a beat. “If I wanted to take over, what would be your opinion?”

She hummed.

“Well,” she trailed off. “For starters, you would make a better business partner than Ian, so you have that going for you.”

“But…?”

“But you have no field experience,” she pointed out. “And practically zero support in the family.”

“I don’t necessarily need family support to take over,” you said. “It’s happened before. Most people follow power, no matter who holds it.”

“And the experience?”

“I have the training,” you said. “I’ll prove myself, I know very well that I have to.”

She arched a brow, then let a small smile curl her lips.

“Not to mention I’d keep the truce after taking over,” you said. “You can’t say the same thing for Ian.”

“Not very subtle, that one,” she murmured and you licked your lips.

“How did you know though?” you asked. “That I wanted it?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your father has two starving dogs and only one steak,” she said. “Doesn’t take a genius, really. I told Clint about it way before you and Bucky got engaged.”

You huffed out a laugh and she pushed her chair back, then stood up.

“I mean you do have the training so you know how it ends, don’t you?” she asked. “One of you will have to tear the other’s throat out.”

That made you swallow thickly and you nodded your head, your teeth clenched together. She kept your gaze in hers for a couple of seconds, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Good luck,” she said calmly and walked away from you to get into her car, and you slid a little in your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Good talk.”

You had sent your bodyguards away for the night considering Becca already had hers who would accompany you to the nightclub. She had insisted on driving her car on the way there and you had a strong feeling that it was her way of showing Leila there was nothing to be intimidated about the business or her place in it, and that she could adapt to the civilian life just fine.

Love made people do all sorts of things, apparently.

Becca’s bodyguards’ car was following you as you leaned your head on the window, making yourself comfortable in the backseat and you took a look at your phone, then cleared your throat.

“Do you guys think I should text Ethan?”

Becca frowned at you from the rearview mirror before turning her attention on the road and Leila turned sideways in the passenger seat so that she could see you better.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean I feel like I should,” you said. “Technically, the guy took a bullet for me.”

Becca let out a noise of disagreement. “The guy took a bullet while you were there, it’s not the same thing.”

“He wouldn’t have got shot if I weren’t there though,” you pointed out and Leila hummed.

“I mean he’s gonna have to get over the fact that you’re in love with someone else and getting married,” she said. “If you’re friends…”

“We are.”

“You were only friends because he was hoping it would turn into a relationship,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you rolled your eyes at her.

“I actually like spending time with him though,” you said. “I don’t know, I can’t help feel a bit guilty because—”

You were interrupted when a police car turned the corner to get in between you and Becca’s bodyguards’ car and flashed its headlights, signaling at you to pull over. Becca’s eyes snapped up to yours in the rearview mirror as your stomach dropped and you sat up straighter while Leila looked over her shoulder.

“Babe, they’re telling us to pull over.”

Becca’s jaw clenched before she cleared her throat while you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Do you mind changing seats with Y/N, my love?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not the police,” you told her. “No police in this city ever stops us.”

“What do you—” she started but let out a scream when another car hit Becca’s bodyguards car from the side, making it stop as the bullets started flying. Becca reached out to make her duck and you looked back, letting out a curse.

“Leila, the car is bulletproof,” Becca said, her voice calm as if there weren’t bullets hitting the car. “It’s all going to be fine, I just need you to change seats with Y/N.”

“O—okay…” Leila stammered and pushed herself through the small gap between her and Becca’s seat to reach the backseat, and you squeezed at her arm.

“Nothing will happen to you, just keep your head down,” you assured her and pulled your gun from your purse, then got on the passenger seat, adrenaline running through your veins.

“HYDRA?”

“Has to be,” Becca said as she sped up the car, swirling the car left and right so that some of the bullets wouldn’t hit it. “What are you thinking?”

You checked the GPS on the screen. “Sam’s territory.”

“Alright,” she muttered as she found and touched his name on the screen while you counted the bullets that seemed to be endless with the way they were raining on the car.

“Sooner or later that motherfucker is gonna have to change the magazine—”

“Hi Becca,” Sam’s voice reached the car. “Um, why am I hearing gunshots?”

Becca swirled the car on the road again. “HYDRA is following us, I’m in the car with Y/N and Leila.”

“What?!”

“It’s fine, Bucky made sure the car was bulletproof the day I bought it,” Becca added. “Listen, Sam I’m sharing my location with you, we’re like two minutes away from your territory and HYDRA’s men are right behind us so we can’t turn back—”

“I’m sending the cars and calling Buck,” Sam said and Becca hung up the phone as you opened the car window, then leaned out of the window and fired the shot at the man’s hand when he slid the next magazine into the gun, making him let out a yell. You quickly got back in and huffed out a breath.

“They have a bulletproof car as well but that should slow them down for a couple of seconds,” you muttered and turned to look at Leila who was still covering her head, curled up on the backseat.

“Leila?” Becca said. “Talk to me.”

“I—I think I’m fine?” Leila replied, her voice shaking. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Becca said and Leila shook her head.

“It’s not your fault Becca.”

The bullets started hitting the car again and you gritted your teeth, then checked the GPS again while Becca stepped on the accelerator.

“Babe, remember how you asked why the truce was so important in this city?” she asked Leila. “This is why.”

The moment your car entered Sam’s territory, two cars coming from the opposite direction turned their headlights on and wheezed past you, surrounding the car behind you. Becca pulled over and let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she reached out to hold your hand to squeeze it.

“You okay?”

“Mm hm,” you said, your heart still beating in your ears as your phone started vibrating on the backseat. “You?”

“Peachy,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, and touched Leila’s back. “Leila?”

Even you could tell that Leila was shaken up but she raised her head and wiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“I’m okay,” she rasped out. “Is it safe now?”

“Yeah,” Becca said. “I—Leila, I’m incredibly sorry for this…”

“Not your fault,” Leila said, her voice still trembling even if she tried to smile. “And I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” you managed to say and grabbed your phone before you stepped out of the car. Bucky’s name was flashing on the screen and you took a deep breath, then answered it and took it to your ear.

“Becca is fine,” you said. “Leila too. Sam’s people are here.”

There was a second of silence on the other side of the line before you heard Bucky letting out a relieved breath.

“Sweetheart?” he said, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to get rid of the fear churning your insides.

“Mm hm.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I shot one of them in the hand,” you said, your eyes falling on the three HYDRA men Sam’s people had dragged out of the car. The sight of one of them still holding onto his bleeding hand made the anger rush through your system so fast that it made your head spin, your vision going red.

Attacking you was one thing but attacking your friends and putting them in danger was another.

And you were not going to let that happen.

“Good job,” Bucky said softly as if trying to calm you down. “I’m on my way, alright?”

“Uh huh,” you said and hung up as you gripped your gun tighter, then pushed the phone into your pocket to make your way to the crowd. Sam’s people all turned to you before one of them stepped closer and you tried to focus through the blinding anger, dragging your gaze from the captives to her.

“Ma’am,” she said, stretching out her hand so that you could shake it with your free hand. “My name is Aubrey. Mr. Wilson let us know about what happened, he is on his way here. Is everyone in the car alright?”

“Yeah,” you said through frozen lips. “Thank you Aubrey. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said and you walked past her to get closer to HYDRA’s men. The one who was cradling his bloody hand glared at you, then spat at the ground.

“Doesn’t matter where you take us, I’ll die before I speak,” he growled and you arched a brow, then shrugged your shoulders calmly as if fury wasn't pounding in your head.

“Happy to follow your schedule buddy.”

You raised your gun and fired it right between his eyes, his lifeless body hitting the ground as the loud shot echoed through the road. Aubrey raised her brows and exchanged glances with one of her men while you lowered the gun and wiped the blood off your face.

“I’ll be over there until my fiancé gets here,” you said, motioning at the direction of Becca’s car. “Thanks again.”

With that, you made your way to the car and jumped to sit on the trunk so that you wouldn’t interrupt Becca and Leila’s conversation. You put the gun beside you with a sigh, then crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms, adrenaline still roaring through you.

“Great,” you murmured, turning your gaze up to the sky. “Here goes my night I guess.”

Chapter 13

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sjsmith56 · 9 months

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The Stranger - Part 10, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary: An accident while on a mission in 1971 resets the Winter Soldier and he quickly begins remembering things. Determined to get away from HYDRA he is taken in by hippies in a commune.

Length: 6K

Characters: Winter Soldier / James, original characters (Seth, Summer, Tanner, and Tamsin), Winnifred Barnes

Warnings: Memories of torture, fear of capture, sadness, swearing, some violence.

Author notes: If the Winter Soldier was "reset" during a mission, he wouldn't be the Soldier anymore. He would be aware he was different. It seems logical that the serum, which constantly regenerated his physical injuries would likely regenerate his brain injuries during this time, restoring the synapses and brain cells that held his memories, allowing them to return. Perhaps the Soldier would take these opportunities to escape and try to get away from HYDRA, knowing in his core that they were evil and he wasn't. What if he could find a community that was accepting of him (even the arm), and would welcome him, being a place where James Bucky Barnes could re-emerge. In 1971, there were already such welcoming communities springing up as young people sought a different life than what their parents had. What if he stumbled onto one and found an environment that sped up the healing of his brain, allowing more of his past to emerge? He would feel part of something good, until they realized his presence would put them all in danger.

The cover of The Hobbit in the photo collage is from the 1966 edition, with Tolkien's own drawing as the cover.

<<Part 9

I woke up with a start, unfamiliar with my surroundings. It was dark, although a full moon was on the rise, and I was soaked. Understandable, considering I was lying on a sandbar in a river. Automatically my hand went to my side holster, finding it empty. My knife sheath was empty as well and I wondered what happened to my weapons. What happened to me? Calming myself I replayed what I could remember, tracking my target, lining him up in the sights, then just before I pulled the trigger an out of control car was on the bridge, aiming right at me and I jumped, landing a hundred feet below in the swift moving current that even with my strength was too much for me to handle. I had to abandon my rifle to stay afloat then the river bashed me against the bridge column, making my head ring like a bell. At that moment I realized something. The Asset wasn't there, it was just me, even though I wasn't sure who I was other than I wasn't him, and perhaps this time I could be free.

Quickly, I did a self-assessment, standing up and lifting my legs to see if there was anything too painful that would indicate an injury. Although I was sore there was nothing that felt broken. Whipping my metal arm around I felt it reset, then I looked at the sandbar I was on. It was long and narrow but near the end of it there was a gap of only ten feet or so to the shore. Stepping into the cold water I carefully waded through, pleased to see it was only a couple of feet deep in this location. It was easy to pull myself up into the brush along the river. Looking up at the night sky I located some constellations, smiling that I remembered them from my childhood. How did that memory suddenly come up? By their position it was after 24:00, if I was still in New York State. I knew that's where I was because they had programmed the optimal location to fire at the target while he had a drink in a golf course clubhouse beside the river, well within range of the rifle I was using.

I took stock of what my mission had been, trying to remember the details. The hit was supposed to be done by 20:00 and I was supposed to rendezvous with my handler at 21:00 at a clearing south of the bridge. The river flowed from northwest to southeast so I was east of my rendezvous site. A search party could already be looking for me. If I was going to get away this time, I needed to find shelter quickly, then deal with the food issue as I was already hungry.

Calming myself again I listened to the night sounds and became aware of a road, perhaps a couple of miles away. It wasn't busy so it wasn't the highway. Perhaps it would lead to a farm and I could hide out in a barn or shed. Heading towards the sounds of the occasional vehicle driving over the pavement I came to a road soon enough and watched for some time before running beside it close to the tree line. I wanted to get as far away north from where I woke up as they knew that I would take my shot from the bridge up river and would track me from that spot. Every time I heard a vehicle approaching my position I hid in the bushes, watching the faces of the people who were in the cars to see if any of them were my handler or the others, the recovery team they would send out after me. So far, the vehicle occupants seemed to be ordinary people. Up ahead I could see a battered sign and stood looking at it for a moment trying to figure out what it meant. There was a name ... Townsend ... then it said "Designed with you in mind." What did that mean?

I kept going on and had to cross over a bridge that spanned a wide but shallow river flowing to the east. While I was on it a vehicle came up behind me without me hearing it. It was obvious my body must be malfunctioning due to a head injury or lack of food, otherwise I should have heard it from some distance. It was all painted with bright colours and the word "Peace" was on the side. As it pulled up beside me the woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window and looked at me with concern. She was pretty, (how did I know that?) with long hair parted in the middle, wearing a head band.

"Are you alright?" she asked, then she noticed my arm. "Oh man, that's some metal arm. What mad scientist put that on you?"

I answered truthfully. "Dr. Zola. I don't feel well." I felt faint. I didn't like it as it made me weak and would expose me to capture.

She looked at the long-haired man driving the vehicle and he nodded his head. "Listen, we don't live too far. Why don't you come with us, and we'll give you some food and a place to sleep."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, puzzled. It didn't make sense.

She smiled. "You look like you need a hand. I'm Summer, this is Seth. What's your name?"

I looked at her and began to panic. It had been so long since I had thought of my name, even though I knew it was important to remember that part of me, and it just wasn't there. I began feeling hot, then dizzy, then everything went black.

🌼

He was being strapped into the machine. After his last mission he had refused to go back with the handler and they used the failsafe word on him, making him pass out. Now as he awakened, he knew what was coming and the dread began to fill his stomach. His mouth was dry, and he looked at the technician who was strapping his titanium arm down.

"Water, please," he whispered.

The man ignored him.

"Please, I need water," he said louder, and the man still ignored him but sped up his efforts to get him strapped down.

He was angry now. He was thirsty and all he wanted was some fucking water. Straining his arms, he ripped the strap off and grabbed the man around his throat, squeezing. The others started yelling but he just wanted his water.

"Water!" he yelled then the doctor was in front of him.

"Let the man go and I'll give you water," said the doctor, Zola. "Soldier, until you let him go you won't get anything."

He let the man go and watched as the technician crumpled to the ground. The others dragged him out of the way, and he watched someone bring a glass of water to the doctor, who held it like a precious commodity.

"Soldier, what is your name?" asked the doctor in that voice of his. "Tell me your name and I'll give you the water."

James, he wanted to say James, but he knew if he did, they would hurt him, and he really wanted the water. He looked at the doctor and whispered.

"Soldier."

"Very good." The water was handed to him, and he greedily drank it down. "Now, let the technicians strap you back in."

He handed the glass back and put his arms into place, keeping his eyes on the doctor. Then a mouth guard was put into his mouth and the head piece was lowered onto him as the whir of the machine started up. His anxiety went up as he knew it would hurt but this is what always happened after a mission. It was part of his life.

🌼

I woke up and panicked for a moment as I didn't recognize where I was. I wasn't in restraints, so I wasn't a prisoner. Then I heard the sound of children laughing and playing outside the window and I relaxed slightly, taking in the room where I was. I was lying in a bed, with a pillow and a quilt. I was also undressed, and when I looked under the quilt, I saw that I was naked. Scanning the room, I looked for my clothes, but they weren't there. Instead, there was a soft tunic and some pants, folded up and left on a chair. Assuming they were for me I put them on, finding them odd but not unpleasant to wear. They were certainly different from my normal uniform and were totally unsuitable for what I did for HYDRA. Then I remembered, I didn't want to be with HYDRA anymore and I smiled, because I had also remembered my name, my given name, James. My boots were still there, and I slipped them on but didn't tuck my pants into them like I normally did. The wide legs at the bottom of the pants would make it difficult anyways. Just as I put my hand on the doorknob there was a soft knock and it opened from the outside. The man who was driving the van during the night was there and he smiled at me.

"Hey, you're awake," said the man. "Come, we have some breakfast ready for everyone. You remember I'm Seth?"

"My name is James," I said proudly and stepped out into the morning sun. "Where am I?"

"Well, about ten years ago it was a place called Townsend, but they lost the only source of work in town when it went out of business, so we pooled our money and bought a couple of sections of land. We call it Eden."

"I saw a sign for Townsend on the road," I replied, as we walked. "It said "Designed with you in mind."

"Yeah, the owners of the factory built it here after the war because the land was cheap but they couldn't get others to live in the town they built because there was nothing else for them. No one wants to live in a town where there is nothing to do."

"Why do you live here then?" I asked, as I didn't understand why they would live in a place no one else wanted to.

Seth laughed, apparently humoured by my question. "We like it quiet. We came to escape the rat race, live a pure life off the land, growing our own vegetables, raising our kids in peace and freedom. We're a commune, man. It's a good life."

Soon we arrived at another building and Seth stood back to let me enter ahead of him. Normally I would have been suspicious of such a move but Seth had given no indication of subterfuge or falseness, so I entered the doorway and was greeted by many of the adults in the room who were helping to put food out on the large table. There were at least a dozen adults and many children of various ages. Normally I would have assessed every single person in there for their threat to me but there were no indications from any of them that they would be hostile to me so I stopped assessing them quickly. At first I felt self-conscious but no one seemed to think there was anything different about me, they just continued to get the meal ready. Seth motioned to a seat, and I sat down. A memory of a similar event where a large group of people sat down to eat came to mind, but it was gone just as quickly. The others sat down with their children close by and they all looked to Seth, so I did as well.

"Welcome to our new friend, James," he said. "We chose to live in Eden in harmony with nature and with good will to anyone who needs a helping hand. James looked like he needed help last night and we're honoured to have him join us today. Dig in everyone."

Watching the others carefully I helped myself to the food, not taking too much even though I was very hungry. Something in me, a memory maybe, said to make sure everyone got what they wanted first before I could have seconds. Summer and another woman went to the stove, and each brought a pot of coffee pouring it out to all the adults. With a start I realized that Summer was very pregnant. While the two women poured, a couple of the men did the same with jugs of milk, pouring it out for the children then leaving it on the table for people to use in their coffee. The coffee smell was amazing, and another memory came unbidden into my mind of an older woman pouring some for me as I wore dark work clothes. Who she was wasn't clear but the thought that perhaps she was my mother persisted. I took a sip of it and savoured the familiar taste as it went down my throat. Eagerly I dug into my food, finding it somewhat plain but hearty. When I finished my plate another man, Tanner, lifted a basket of bread and offered it to me.

"Have some more, James," he said, smiling. "We have lots of food and you look like you're still hungry."

"Thank you," I replied automatically, wondering where that came from, taking the bread and other foods that were offered to me. "I hadn't eaten for a couple of days."

"Where do you come from?" asked Summer, her kind eyes were gazing at me.

"I...I don't remember. Since the war, my memories...."

The others nodded in understanding. "That explains it," said Seth. "You lost your arm in the war?"

"Yes," I replied. "I remember falling from a train."

"Bummer, man," said another woman, Tamsin was what they called her. "I washed your clothes and they're hanging on the line. They're very... military."

"It's all I had to wear," I explained. "They wouldn't let me wear anything else."

"Who is they?" asked Seth, curious. I felt my face turn red and looked away, unsure if I should tell them about HYDRA. They might not like me if they knew what I did for them. Seth smiled. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. The war fucked up a lot of guys. We know that. We understand."

After everyone finished eating Seth looked at Summer and she nodded. He stood up, signalling to the others that breakfast was done, so I stood up with them.

"We have some work to do," said Seth. "We're clearing some brush to build another residence. Would you like to help? You look like you're strong."

Agreeing, I walked with them out to an area where they had cut some trees down. There were stumps in the ground and I could see that they were digging out the stumps by hand. Taking my shirt off without even thinking, I took a spade and began to dig under a stump as Seth explained they wanted to weaken the root system then use their horses to pull the stumps out. Nothing would go to waste as they would cut the stumps apart and stack the wood for their fireplaces and stoves. As I began digging the others were impressed with how I could use my metal arm. I hadn't even thought of the arm when I took my shirt off and no one said anything about how it looked other than most people with prosthetic arms had something much more basic. I kept digging, until a couple of the women brought out jugs of water and mugs for us to drink out of. Seeing some of the other men throw the water on their faces I followed suit and cooled off a little in the warm sun by wetting my head. Returning to my spade after drinking my fill I began digging in another area, undermining the root system. Just before we broke for lunch Seth took a closer look at our progress.

"I think we can harness the horses up after lunch and try to pull it out," he said. "Some of us can start on the next stump and we might be able to get that one pulled out before supper."

"Can I try something?" I asked, knowing I was strong enough to pull the stump out.

Seth nodded and watched as I went over to the stump and stood in one of the holes that we had created. Placing my hands under two of the sections that had been uncovered I began to lift the massive piece of wood. The others watched as some of the roots began to snap then the stump moved up. Seth jumped down next to me along with a couple of other guys and together we pulled the stump up until it was partially free. Then I stepped back, looked at the different parts of it then repositioned my hands and began to push it over. The others pushed with me and with a collective groan of effort the four of us pushed the stump over, freeing it from the root system still in the ground. I stepped back as the others patted me on the back.

"How strong are you?" asked Seth. "I've never seen anyone do that before."

"I can lift about 250 kilograms," I replied. No one said anything about me using kilograms but they did look at each other as if they didn't understand and I realized that they probably didn't know that measurement of weight. "550 pounds about."

"You're a big guy but you don't look that strong and with your artificial arm I wouldn't think it possible," said Seth. "James, did the army experiment on you?"

"Not the army, HYDRA," I replied, without thinking. "They took me captive in 1945."

The other men all looked at each other, unsure of my declaration.

"James, how old are you?" asked Seth.

"What year is it?" I countered. "I wasn't allowed to know."

"1971," replied one of the other guys.

I took a breath and looked around at all of them. The truth was the best thing to tell them. "I think I was born in 1917. That makes me 54."

I could tell they didn't believe me, but I didn't care. It felt good to tell someone. Just being out in the sunlight, with my shirt off, hearing the birds, and feeling the breeze on my skin was glorious.

"When we asked you about the war, we thought you were a Vietnam War veteran," said Seth, trying to understand what was happening. "What war were you in?"

"The war against Germany," I answered, sure of that. "I was a sergeant, I think. My memories are all jumbled. I fell from a train and the Nazis or maybe the Russians found me. That memory is still unclear, but they took me somewhere, gave me to HYDRA. They did things to me, wiping my memory, injecting me with a serum, rebuilt my shoulder and gave me this arm so they could make me do things for them."

"What kind of things?" asked Tanner.

"Killing people," I said, quietly, almost holding my breath. "I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to go back. They hurt me when I remember things from my old life, and when I don't cooperate. Can I stay here, with you? I like it here. You're all so kind."

The other men looked at each other and I wondered if I had told them too much because they didn't look happy. Their response bothered me and I lowered my eyes, fidgeting with my hands as I suddenly felt anxious.

"James," said Seth gently. "We'll have to talk with the others about what you told us. Are you okay with that?"

I nodded. "I never wanted to be this way. They experimented on me. I don't like doing it and it gives me nightmares."

"It's okay," said Seth. "I'm a vet. I was in Vietnam, and I know I did some things that I'm not proud of." He thought for a moment. "James, the people who make you do this – do they know where you are?"

"No, I was preparing for a target when I had to jump off a bridge to avoid being hit by a car and I was swept away in the river. I came to on a sandbar downstream and took my chance to escape. They may come looking for me."

Seth nodded and put his hand on my shoulder. "Because this is a commune it means all the adults have an equal vote on important decisions. Letting you stay will have to go to a vote. I want you to tell your story to the others, then we'll discuss it and decide."

"I understand," I replied, standing as tall as I could. "If you decide it's too dangerous to let me stay then I'll leave. But if you let me stay, I promise to protect you as if you were my family. I would never let anyone hurt any of you or the children."

We went back to the dining hall and sat down for lunch. No one said anything but I could feel an undercurrent of caution around me. Not that I blamed them as I knew if HYDRA came here, they would hurt or perhaps even kill them, and I couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to these good people who had taken me in. When I left to use the bathroom, I wondered if they would say anything while I was gone. On my way back I saw all the children were outside and felt certain that the others waited inside for me to tell my story. My instincts were right, and I didn't sit down when I entered the dining hall. Instead, I stood beside my chair and told them everything I remembered so far. They asked questions about the serum and HYDRA which I answered as best as I could remember. Their faces were at least sympathetic to me, and I took hope from that, but I also knew they had to make the best decision for all of them.

"I'm going back to the other stump and dig at it," I said when I was finished talking. "Whatever you decide I thank you for taking care of me and being so kind. I wasn't expecting it."

Leaving them I walked out to the stump, picking up the spade from where I left it. Then I began digging the dirt from the other stump, attacking it with as much energy as I could manage. The time flew by, and I got half of the dirt from under the stump dug out when I saw Seth walking alone over the field towards me. His face didn't look happy, and I felt my hopes dwindle. When he arrived, he put his hand on my shoulder then sat on the ground, motioning for me to sit with him.

"They're afraid," he said. "We came here to escape war and violence, and they're worried that if these others come looking for you, they'll hurt us for helping you."

"They're right," I admitted. "They are vicious people. They have killed for no reason at all."

"We don't want to leave you helpless," said Seth, "so Summer and I will drive you wherever you want to go. We'll give you some food and money. If I were you, I would try to find my folks but I'm guessing yours might be dead. Is there anyone in the army that might help you? Someone you served with?"

"I wouldn't know where to find them," I said, then I smiled at Seth. "It's alright. Even just being here with you for a few hours has been ... wonderful. It made me remember something my mother would say during the Depression. I can't clearly remember her face, but I remember her saying "Good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice."

Seth smiled, a sad but gentle smile. "I think it's one of the Psalms," he said. "Lapsed Catholic. I voted for you to stay, James. So did Summer. Whatever they did to you to make you into their killer, it's not who you are, the you inside. I see a quiet and gentle man who freely helped when he was asked. I hope you are able to stay free. Come on back, have a shower, and we'll look at the map to see where we can drive you tomorrow."

Together we went back, and I showered, washing my hair and remembering how the attendants in HYDRA did it for me. It was a pleasant experience to do it for myself, and I tried to commit it to my memory, knowing there was a place deep inside that HYDRA hadn't yet broken. It was where my memories went to hide lying dormant until one or more of them would bubble up to the surface of my consciousness. I wanted this memory of being in this place, with these people, to go there. Wrapping the towel around my waist I stepped out of the shower room then went to the room where I slept. There were more clean clothes for me, and I put them on, accepting it would be the last time I would wear normal people clothes. Seth and Summer were waiting in the dining hall, and they had a map out between them.

"You have a Brooklyn accent," said Seth. "Tamsin is from there and she figured you might want to get there, see if your folks are still alive. We can take you to Albany and help you buy a bus ticket."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," I replied then looked all around me at the dining hall. "You have a nice place here. I didn't know there were such things as communes."

"Well, there probably weren't any hippies around in the 1940s," smiled Seth. "If you find your folks tell them that if there weren't bad people looking for you, we would have welcomed you to stay. It's just too dangerous for our children."

For the rest of the afternoon, I sat outside in the shade with Seth and the others, having a beer, watching the children play, enjoying their joyous laughter. It was peaceful and I wished with all of my heart that I could have stayed here with these kind people. After dinner I returned to my room and found my Asset clothes there, folded up neatly on the chair. I stripped down and got into bed, turning out the light and laid there in the dark willing sleep to come. Eventually it did.

In the morning I put the Asset clothes on, but left the holster and knife sheath off as I had nothing to put in them. As I dressed, I became more and more sad with each piece of clothing from my past, knowing they were made for one purpose, to kill people. On the back of the chair where my clothes were was a jacket and I smiled, realizing they wanted me to be able to hide my arm when I left. It might allow me a better opportunity to get to New York.

What Seth said about my folks resonated with me. They might still be alive, might still be in their house in Brooklyn. It was worth it to me to try and find them, just so they knew I was alive. Once Seth had voiced that idea the memories had percolated up from my mind and I was sure I could find my way to them, once I got there. Running my hands through my hair I stood up tall, took a deep breath then stepped out the door to where Seth and Summer were waiting. We had a quick breakfast then after the others said goodbye we went to the van.

Summer slid the sliding door of the VW van open, and I stepped inside, sitting on one of the seats in the back. She and Seth got in the front, and we were soon on our way. An hour later we pulled into the parking lot across from the bus station at Albany. Seth purchased a bus ticket to Brooklyn and came over to where Summer and I were waiting. She handed me a cloth bag that I slung over my shoulder. Inside was food, some hand knit socks, and a book, The Hobbit, for me to read on the bus. That book sparked another memory for me, as it was a book I remembered I liked reading. I put the holster and sheath inside the bag. Seth gave me the bus ticket then with an encouraging nod from Summer he pulled out some cash and pressed it into my hand.

"Good luck, James," he said, with some emotion. "I hope you find peace. I think you are a peaceful man at heart. Be careful."

"I will," I replied, hugging Seth first then Summer. "Good luck with the baby. Thank you."

A call for the bus came over the loudspeaker and I walked to the gate showing my ticket. I stepped on the bus and found a seat near the emergency window, in case I had to leave the bus quickly. Everyone that stepped on the bus underwent my scrutiny, but I didn't feel any sense of anxiety over any of them. They were all just people heading to New York City. When the bus pulled out of the garage, I saw Seth and Summer watching for me and waved then settled back in my seat.

I didn't read the book that they put into my bag because I was more interested in seeing the outside world, at how much it had changed since I was younger. The cars were different, people definitely dressed different and there was more of a sense of hurry as the highway seemed full of vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Gradually the skyline of New York came into view, and I found myself anticipating what it would be like as we got closer. As the Soldier I was sure I had been there to complete an assignment, but I was never given the opportunity to just look at things for the sake of looking.

As the bus drove deeper into the city, I marvelled at all the taller buildings that were now there although I could still see the Empire State Building, pleased to know it was still standing. The bus pulled into a depot, and everyone was told to disembark. Those going on to Brooklyn had to change to a different bus. I followed the others and was directed to another bus. As I walked, I saw a man watching me intently and felt the first indications that this might have been a mistake.

"When does the bus leave?" I asked the driver of the next bus before stepping on. "Do I have time to use the men's room?"

"Sure, kid," he said. "You got ten minutes."

The driver turned to the next passenger and quickly I went to the men's room, stepping into a stall. Looking at the toilet paper I grabbed some and twisted it into a shape that I could insert into my ears to block out the words. I couldn't let them say anything to me, not the failsafe, and not the other words, the ones that would bring out the Asset. Patiently I waited for the man who had been watching me enter the rest room, peering at him through the crack in the door. When the man stopped, I opened the stall door, grabbed him by the throat and head butted him, knocking him out, dragging him inside and sitting him on the toilet. Searching him, I found a gun and a knife, placing them inside the cloth bag. Then I found the man's wallet and took the cash out, placing the wallet back in the man's jacket. After checking myself in the mirror, satisfied that I hadn't cut open my forehead, I left the restroom, and quickly boarded the bus, just before it left the station. No one on the bus took any notice of me and I was satisfied that I was safe once again.

Forty-five minutes later the bus pulled into the Brooklyn depot, and I exited the bus, looking carefully at anyone who looked in my direction. Seeing a couple of men, dressed in black, carefully scanning the passengers at that exit I stepped back, going behind the bus and exited from the bus exit. Looking up at the street signs I oriented myself and smiled. Brooklyn had changed but it was still my old neighbourhood. I knew exactly where I was and where I had to go. For the next few hours, I took a roundabout way to my parent's house, using the alleys and hopping fences. Just before dark I found the street and went into the back of the first row house, jumping over the fences into the yards. Finally, I arrived at the back yard of my parent's brownstone and crept up the back steps to the stoop, looking in the window of the kitchen, while keeping my face hidden in the shadow.

There was an old woman in there and when she turned I gasped, almost to the point of crying, at seeing the aged face of my mother. She was making a cup of tea and I watched as her shaky hands poured the boiling water from the tea kettle into a cup with a tea bag in it. A cough overtook her and she bent over until she caught her breath again. For a second I touched the door handle to open it then she picked up her mug and walked out of the kitchen, turning the light off as she left, shuffling her way to the parlour where I could see the glow from a television. She had a television, something that was new and different when I first saw it at the New York World's Fair in 1939. Slowly she sat in a chair and I withdrew my hand from the door. As much as I wanted to talk to her and hold her I knew my presence put her in danger. This glimpse of her would have to suffice.

Quietly I sat on the stoop and ate the food that Summer gave me. Next, I pulled out the book and cash, slipping the bills inside the pages. Searching the bag unsuccessfully for a pen or pencil I looked at the book smiling at the inscription already written. "To James, May you be free to find your own Eden. Seth and Summer." Perhaps Ma would figure it out. Quietly I put it inside the screen door, along with the hand knit socks. Taking the holster and sheath from the bag, I fastened them on then inserted the gun and the knife into them. Leaving the cloth bag on the stoop I went down into the yard and looked up at the sky, having a brief memory of me and Steve doing it when we were boys. Steve, I remembered Steve. Taking in deep but ragged breaths I savoured those muddled memories that came and went randomly. With determination I hopped over the fences to get back to the street and began to run. They would find me eventually, of that I was certain, but I wasn't going to make it easy for them. I was the Asset, after all, and I knew how to evade capture.

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