Chapter 10
UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD
PASSENGER TICKET - ADMIT 2
15 May 1945, 0900 hours
from NEW YORK, NY to SHELBYVILLE, IN
ONE WAY
The train ride out of the city was quiet.
Steve and Bucky sat across from each other, a table separating them. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the window, watching the city skyline disappear into the distance. He’d been twitchy the whole way to the station, eyes darting around with the vigilance of a soldier as he catalogued the crowds of commuters and travelers surrounding them. Even now he still seemed tense, sitting with his empty left sleeve pressed protectively against the wall of the train, flinching minutely every time the rails squealed underneath them. Steve wanted to reach out and reassure him, but the presence of the other passengers in their mostly empty train car stopped him. There were only a couple of other people scattered throughout the car, their eyes all glued to newspapers or to their own windows, but Steve was still nervous to invite attention, for Bucky’s sake as well as his own. Even if they couldn’t hide in the protective bubble of their old apartment anymore, he wanted what he and Bucky had to stay theirs and theirs alone.
He settled for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the city that Bucky was watching disappear from view. This far out, the towering buildings all looked small. The sight sent a thrill of fear down Steve’s spine. Up until today, his whole life had been spent in what was now just a tiny speck on the horizon. As it shrank from view, the rest of the world was opening up, wide and unfamiliar. In the face of it, Steve could hardly decide whether to be excited or terrified.
Even with New York out of sight, Bucky was still staring out the window as though lost in thought. The bright colors outside, green grass under a widening blue sky, made him look paler than Steve had ever seen him. Steve remembered the promises Bucky had used to make to him every time he was sick during the dreary New York winters - that one day they’d make it out of the city, find a place to live where there was sunshine and clear skies. He never could have imagined all they’d have to go through first, would never have predicted the war, or the empty sleeve and tired eyes Bucky now sported, but there was relief in the fact that the future they’d half-planned together was finally becoming real in spite of it all.
Steve watched Bucky watching the world outside and smiled. The sun and fresh air would be good for both of them, he thought.
Hoping to pass the time, Steve reached under his seat for the bag he’d brought with him and pulled out his sketchbook, as well as a spare pencil he’d tucked inside. The drawings he’d started just before they left their apartment were nearly done, and he wanted to finish them while the memories were still fresh in his mind. He angled the book away from Bucky as he opened it, even though he likely didn’t need to. Bucky’s eyes were still fixated on the window, stuck on some point in the distance that Steve couldn’t see.
Steve looked over the shapes of the drawing, eager to find something else to add that might perfect it, but the longer he stared at the page the less he could think of to fix. It was unsettling how quickly the images he’d been trying to capture had blurred in his mind, all the tiny details that he’d once taken for granted now escaping him. All he had left was what he’d already committed to memory and put down on the page.
Steve had filled the last couple of pages in his sketchbook with rough images of their New York apartment. There was the living room as it had looked before they’d packed it up, complete with the lumpy couch and the radio and the stack of well-worn books on the table. There was Bucky’s bedroom, the quilt on his narrow bed looking tattered but cozy. There was the view from the fire escape as best as Steve could remember it, buildings rising on all sides to obscure the sky.
The scenes were all empty, devoid of people. Steve didn’t feel the need to draw Bucky over and over anymore, to keep trying to bring to life some memory version of him on the page. He knew now that all the love he’d poured into those drawings belonged with the real Bucky, right in front of him.
That love had been the driving force behind this last series of drawings. Steve had wanted the memories for himself, sure, but he’d also wanted to be able to show them to Bucky, to do something to soften the sad looks that had been flitting across his face whenever he thought Steve wasn’t looking, showing just how much he wanted to stay even though he knew he needed to leave. A similar look was spreading across his face as he stared out the window now, and Steve decided: the drawings weren’t perfect, but they’d be enough.
Under the table, Steve gently nudged Bucky’s knee with his own. Bucky started, but quickly relaxed when he realized Steve was the one who’d bumped against him. The brief shock on his face turned into curiosity as Steve slid his sketchbook, open to the last few pages, across the table. His eyes widened as he took them in, hand trembling a little as he gently turned the pages. He stayed quiet for a long time.
“We could go back, someday,” he whispered eventually.
Steve nodded. “Yeah. Someday, we could.” He kept his voice hushed, wanting the words to stay just between them two. “Or we could stay in Indiana. Or we could go out west, see the mountains. Could go all the way to the ocean if we wanted to.”
Bucky smiled softly. “Always kinda wanted to see the Grand Canyon.”
“We can do it, one day,” Steve murmured. “We can go anywhere we want.”
Bucky nodded. “One day.”
There were other things they needed to do first, Steve knew, a long road of healing ahead of them. But the wide-open fields out here had Steve thinking of after. Out of the city, free of the brutal cycle of just surviving day to day, he was starting to think they might really have a future.
Across the table, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and smiled. Bucky smiled back, just a fleeting look before he returned his eyes to the sketchbook, then the window, looking into the empty distance. But no matter how distant he looked, he kept his knee pressed against Steve’s, just close enough for it to feel deliberate. It was a subtle enough gesture, but Steve read it loud and clear - they were together, all the way. They didn’t need to say it, not in a way the other passengers in the car could hear. They just understood.
The Barnes family farm was on a wide piece of land. A tiny, white-walled farmhouse sat in the middle, surrounded on all sides by open fields and sky. It was late afternoon by the time a cab deposited Bucky and Steve in front of it, leaving them to haul their meager luggage up the long dirt path leading to the front door.
The closer they got, the more nervous Steve was. It had been years since he’d seen Bucky’s family, and some part of his mind kept telling him that this wasn’t his home, not really. But as they reached the front step, Bucky, as though he could tell Steve was starting to spiral, reached down to squeeze his hand. Steve clutched it in that brief moment like a lifeline, finally able to quiet his thoughts long enough to glance sideways, meeting Bucky’s eyes.
“Just a little while,” Bucky murmured, “and then we’ll be alone again.”
Steve took a deep breath and nodded. They’d already come all this way - surely they could make it just a little bit further. Steeling himself, he raised a fist to knock firmly on the door.
As soon as Bucky’s mother opened the door and Steve caught sight of her familiar face, his doubts were momentarily buried in a wave of nostalgia. He felt like he might be a kid again. Like he and Bucky had just pretended to wash up before coming to the table for dinner.
The look in Winifred’s eyes when she caught sight of them was unfamiliar, though, different enough to remind Steve that they weren’t kids, not anymore. She looked relieved to see them, but that relief was tempered by something else. Sadness, maybe, or just plain tiredness. Steve supposed the look ought to be familiar - it was the same tired look Bucky often wore. The same one he saw in his own eyes every time he’d looked in a mirror these past few months. Seeing that tired look reflected in someone else’s face, he was realizing that maybe Bucky hadn’t been the only one fighting all this time.
After a long moment in which they all stood frozen, stuck somewhere between the past and the present, Winifred finally moved.
"Oh, boys. Come here," she said, opening her arms - not just to Bucky, to both of them - and pulling them into a hug, out of the heat of the early summer day.
"Hey, ma," Bucky whispered. He went in easily. Some part of Steve was still holding back, but Winifred was insistent, and he soon found himself drawn in just as closely. As he gave in, he felt his doubts bleeding away into relief. He should have known he’d be welcome, should have known some things didn’t really change - and on top of it all, there was relief in knowing that none of them would have to keep fighting alone.
As much of a relief as it was, being surrounded by familiar people, Bucky’s mother and father and sisters, just the way they had been when they were kids, Steve couldn’t help but look forward to that moment alone Bucky had promised him. As the afternoon bled into evening and orange light started falling through the house’s west-facing windows, he finally got his chance - Bucky caught his eye from across the living room where the family all sat, then glanced meaningfully at the back door. When he finally moved to let himself out onto the porch, Steve forced himself to wait a moment, trying his best not to look too eager, before following him out.
The view from the back of the house was unexpectedly breathtaking. The back porch opened out into a field, wide and flat and empty, giving Steve a view of the whole horizon. The sunset they’d only seen in bits and pieces from the fire escape in New York was laid out in front of him in full, spanning the entire sky.
Through the dimming light, Steve could make out Bucky’s silhouette. He’d wandered down from the porch, far enough away that he stood at the edge of the field, his back to the house as he watched the sky. Steve made his way over to him, coming to stand at his side.
The evening was quiet, save the sounds of a few crickets hiding somewhere in the grass. The air smelled strangely sweet, and a few fireflies buzzed near the ground, seeming to twinkle as their lights blinked on and off. Steve breathed in deep, taking it all in.
“I’m glad we left,” he said into the quiet, turning to Bucky. Bucky smiled, warm and real. He reached down for Steve’s hand.
“I’m glad you came.”
Bucky spared a quick glance for the house behind them. Warm light was still visible spilling from the windows, but the house was far enough back that it almost felt like the two of them were really alone.
Bucky dropped Steve’s hand, reached to cup his face instead. Steve leaned in, expecting Bucky to kiss him, but he just stayed there for a moment, looking at him.
“What?”
“Just… after everything that's happened, can’t believe we really get to do this.”
“Well, believe it, pal,” Steve said, cracking a smile. “We really do. You brought me all the way out here, after all. Think you’re pretty much stuck with me forever now.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, but Steve could see a smile tugging at them. “Well, good,” he said. “‘Cause that’s exactly where I wanna be.”
He sounded so much like his old self, cocky and insufferable but still so sweet, and Steve loved him so much for it he could hardly think. He was still lost in it when Bucky finally bridged the distance between them with a kiss. He was still lost in it afterwards when Bucky wrapped an arm around him, pulled him to his chest.
“Love you,” Steve murmured into the tiny space between them. It still felt strange to say it, still felt vulnerable and new, but it was true, and Bucky certainly deserved to hear it.
Bucky buried his nose in Steve’s hair. “Love you, too,” he whispered, just as quietly. Steve smiled easier than he had in a long time.
They could do it here, he decided. Out here, with a family behind them and a wide open sky in front of them, they could heal.