Not Walking Through Brooklyn Sooner
He couldn’t bring himself to go out and see Yori, he felt too much guilt. It didn’t matter if he was trying to make amends, he couldn’t bring Yori’s son back. He couldn’t bring Maria and Howard Stark back and Stark had every right to kill him.
But he knew if Star- no Tony, wanted him dead he would be. Pepper had offered him a place to stay, but he really couldn’t accept it. He'd murdered her dead husband’s parents- even if it wasn’t really him controlling the actions, his body still did, the Winter Soldier wore his face -he didn’t deserve any kindness from them.
Morgan was never scared of him and it perplexed him, instead she was fascinated with his arm and he remembered nights that seemed forever ago where he and Pepper talked about all they’d lost. What they’d lost in the wars, James his humanity and best friend, Pepper her rock and husband (and person who drove her insane).
She was one of the only contacts on his phone next to Sam’s and his therapist’s, but the last call hadn’t been for months. Pepper, too busy with being a single mother and running a Fortune-500 and James, too depressed to get out of ‘bed’ most days or out on missions.
Lately it hadn’t been like that though, he’d been forced out of bed every morning, it wasn’t about him, it was about helping someone else. It really wasn’t about him and the business of life had kept him out of his own head. It was the most fulfilling thing he’d ever done, he’d always like helping people, Steve when he was sick, Sam when he couldn’t lift something.
But now that he was back to normal life, he didn’t have anything to keep him occupied, or anyone to talk to. His last date had been less than successful, he hadn’t called her in months and he was in love with someone else. He felt too much guilt to hang out with Yori, there was no mandated therapy to get him out of the house, he didn’t really know anybody and he couldn’t talk to Pepper.
He feels like Sam and his therapist would have a lot to say about his dependency on Sam, but he didn’t want to think about it. Maybe he would visit the Wakandans? But he didn’t know if he was welcome back. Maybe see Zemo? But he wasn’t sure of visiting rules, or how’d it look to the Wakandans, if he was to visit the man.
Eventually he decided that it wasn’t a decision that he needed to make today and forced himself to get up and shower. As he was shaving in the mirror, clean and in new clothes one thought stood out in his crowded mind, Sam would be pro- and he had to get rid of that train of thought.
He couldn’t put that burden on Sam and his therapist would say it was an unhealthy train of thought. But, he couldn’t shake the thought and he decided that if that was what he needed to think in order to shower and function today, that was what it took. He could worry about it at a later date.
As James was walking outside, eating an ice cream he’d bought from a small vendor he felt glad that he had nothing to do. It was welcome relief from his feelings of guilt and helplessness. It meant that he could put things off and not have to make tough decisions straight away,
He wasn’t in the heat of the battle, for the first time in 100 years he wasn’t fighting, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He spent the rest of the day walking around New York, he’d never really explored the place despite living here for almost half a year and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was back dealing with the Flag Smashers, what a stupid, but honestly very fitting name.
He walked without purpose, zigzagging up busy roads and back streets. This is something, if he’d still had his therapist, she would have applauded (before going through his phone and belittling him, that is), exploring the city and doing things without purpose. Or maybe she wouldn’t have, maybe she would have told him that he wasn’t doing enough.
He didn’t do well alone, or at least that was what Dr Raynor told him, despite being alone for 70 years. He supposed she was right in some ways, he’d always had a need to help the people he loved and he couldn’t do that alone.
A little voice in the back of his head was constantly challenging his self worth and it sounded like a mixture of Russian and Dr Raynor. He wasn’t watching where he was going, walking on autopilot and dodging people automatically, until he suddenly stopped.
His mind may not have been paying attention, but his eyes were. When the fog of his mind cleared up, he noticed where he was. He’d walked back to near his old apartment and an old bookshop that had been around since then.
If he turned around, he used to be able to see the docks, but he could only catch a glimpse of them through the buildings now and his apartment used to be a few doors down, but now they were high rise buildings, only their old apartment was saved and turned into a museum.
There was a line out the door to see Captain America and Bucky Barnes’ home and James had a brief idea of walking in there and seeing what they’d done with the place. But that wasn’t where his feet had brought him. They brought him to the bookstore where he’d bought his first copy of The Hobbit. He wondered vaguely if it was still run by the same family, if the inside still looked the same, smelt the same, felt the same.
He carefully pushed open the door, and all at once, he felt 21 again, after a long day at the docks and going to purchase a book. The bookshop had stood against time, like it was barring time from coming into the door.
At the back of the shop he could see an old woman in a wheelchair, stacking books and as she wheeled away from the shelf, she knocked something. Without thinking about it, James lunged and grabbed the falling books, making sure they wouldn’t hit her, before setting them back onto the shelf.
The old woman startled, before turning around and breaking into a wide grin.
“James Barnes? Is that you? Bucky?” She beamed, obviously overjoyed. At the look of confusion she giggled and started talking, in an over exaggerated voice, that James imagined could only have been an impersonation of him.
“Did you hear about Steve, he got into another fight with the Mckinley boy, in the alley behind the theatre,” She sighed loudly, “and now he won’t sit still long enough to recover. He’s killing me.”
“Dotty?” James smiled. “Is it really you?”
“In the flesh, still running the bookshop like pa used to. He passed away almost 30 years ago now.”
James looked sad, he hadn’t had time to grieve what he’d lost. “I’m sorry to hear that, the bookshop hasn’t changed though. I feel like I should be lifting you onto my shoulders and running around the shop, princess.”
She turned mock-serious and started talking like her mother had. “Now Mr Barnes, is that acceptable behaviour?” And James laughed, reminding him of when he’d get scolded by his ma for running around the shop.
“I think so, my sugarplum fairy. You were how old when I last saw you?”
“Six at the time, but as you can see. I didn’t age as well as you.”
He looked sheepish and wanted to apologise for never visiting, but he knew it wasn’t his fault.
“Now James, don’t pull that face at me. You were kinda off doing someone else’s thing for a bit and then came back with the scrappy boy from Brooklyn able to bench press you. You’ve had a lot going on.”
He chuckled, “I guess I have.”
She gave him a look. “Now are you going to buy something, or just stand there all day?”