Central Park in the fall was beautiful. It always had been. The oak leaves would turn a million different shades of red and orange, and drift to the ground with every breath of wind. It seemed a paradise in it’s own world. Not much had changed in 70 years, either. It was a sight to behold, and one that brought Steve right back to the 1930s. That’s why he took Bucky to Central Park as soon as they deemed him ready for release.
After the HYDRA takeover of SHIELD, and what the Winter Soldier did on those helicarriers, he was taken into custody. Steve and Natasha had petitioned for a fair trial, and after far too much back and forth with the government, he was given one. The trial lasted about two weeks. Bucky was allowed to go home with Steve during the trial, and that’s when he was introduced to everyone in Steve’s new life. The Supreme Court ruled that he was innocent, and that he was not himself when he had assassinated all those people. But, they insisted on a thorough psychological evaluation before he could integrate with civilians again.
They had just finished up running every test they could on Bucky. A panel of doctors deemed him safe to be around, even though he had severe post-traumatic stress disorder, memory loss, as well as an array of other problems. None that made him dangerous. After the effects of the HYDRA brainwashing wore off, Bucky had pretty much returned to his old self. He liked the same music, wore the same styles, and more than anything, loved Steve again.
So that’s why they walked the few blocks from their apartment to the park on a crisp Saturday afternoon. The skinny trees along the sidewalk had flimsy yellow leaves barely hanging on to their branches. They rounded the last corner, and the crowns of Central Park’s huge oak trees came into view.
“I wanted to bring you here because I thought it would help you remember.” Steve said as he clutched Bucky’s hand a little bit tighter.
“You mean it would help me remember the old days?” Bucky asked cautiously.
“I mean, I guess.” Steve shrugged. They crossed the street and walked through the wrought-iron gate into the park. They passed under sweeping branches swaying softly in the wind. Leaves swirled around them, and one got caught in Bucky’s low bun. Another landed on Steve’s shoulder. They continued along the path, and found a bench facing the lake. They watched as the ducks pestered passerbys for bread, and a group of kids making an absolutely enormous leaf pile a couple hundred feet away.
“You and I would come out here almost every weekend. We would take those fairies who lived in the apartment below us as well, and go on a double date. Me and you, and um, what were their names? Dorothy and…” Steve started.
“Mary.” Bucky cut in.
Steve’s face lit up. “You do remember!”
“Bits and pieces. Random faces, random names, random moments. I remember one of those dates, though. You brought your sketchbook and we sat on the other side of the lake and you just drew and drew and drew. I think me and your date were a little bit mad because you were paying more attention to that damn sketchbook than you were to us.” Bucky laughed. “I found the drawing later than night, though. It was a beauty.”
“You never told me you went through my sketchbook! You’ve got some real moxie.” Steve huffed.
“It fell out when you were asleep. I went to put it back because you’d given me so much trouble about looking before.” Bucky said, and bent down to pick up a leaf with his metal hand. He twirled it between his fingers, watching as it spun rapidly, creating a blur of color. “I remember more and more everyday.” he whispered.
“Buck, what do you mean? Do you want to tell me?” Steve furrowed his brows.
“Stuff from when we were kids. Things from the war. Things I did when I wasn’t… me. It’s random. Some of it comes to me in dreams, some of it is triggered by certain events. Like when you made me coffee this morning it reminded me of that coffeehouse in Stuttgart that we went to during the war. This view of the lake made me remember that date. Natasha wrapping her hands when we passed by her in the gym yesterday reminded me of my training.”
“Do you remember your parents? My mom? Our first kiss?”
“Honestly? Not much. All I know about my parents is what you’ve told me. And your mom’s name was Sarah, right?” Steve nodded.
“I don’t remember much of my childhood, and what I do know is vague.” Bucky continued. “But little things, the strangest moments, I remember clear as day. Like the first time I climbed into your bed when you had yet another cold, and our furnace had broken, but I can’t remember the first time we kissed. Like, I know it happened, but it’s so hazy.”
Bucky stared at his boots. Steve wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him close. Bucky rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, and watched as the wind blew ripples in the still lake water. His eyes followed leaves as they fell from their branches and landed softly on the path at their feet. If he closed his eyes and tried his best to shut out the sounds of the bustling city, he could almost imagine that it was 1937 again.