Chapter 2
The leaves crack under his feet, freshly polished regulation shoes under the Fall leaves. None of this feels real, though his senses are saying non-sensically that everything is.
Every breath in feels strange, his lungs not wanting to let go of the inhales; the crispness of the air, the smell of tested diesel run supply trucks; recruits doing laps and the sound of chants. Camp Lehigh is just as he left it before he was deployed to Europe. Before-
"Sergeant Barnes!" A private walks up to him, saluting. "Colonel Phillips is asking for you, sir!"
"....Yeah, let's go then."
The eager private salutes again, before uniformly walking him to the barracks. And he almost wants to hold the boy on his shoulder; tell him to go home, pick your fights and help another way. Any way. Not to go into this hellish game of shells and mortars, thousand yard stares and the fact that one out of every two people you meet won't be coming back.
He sees ranks upon ranks as he walks past them, and as he has this train of thought, he suddenly feels as if he doesn't belong. Some clapping his back saying "Welcome back hero boy!", and he still feels the burdens of reality, before this, bearing down on him. A twisted part of himself wonders, if he really died, someone had to have made a mistake putting him in what appeared to be Heaven.
"Well well well, look who it is. The Golden Boy who Lived." Phillips booming voice echoed through, before shaking his hand. He had only met Phillips a few times, a friend of the friend of his Father, and from what he can remember, was more in Steve's life as Phillips was tasked with what he now understands was the program Steve went into. "Welcome back, son."
"Thank You, sir."
"Walk with me. Agent Carter is with Captain Rogers at the clinic. Just a few check-ups then you can go back to Brooklyn." And as they walked, a dropping, soaring sensation came through his gut like a kick. If Steve had lived, that means he would be with Peggy, living out the happily ever after he should have gotten. He hadn't seen her since 1944.
He tried to see her, the facility she was living in was near enough to the train station. But it was monitored close enough, given it was also home to SSR veterans. And the closest he could get was a passing glance at a woman who had forgotten her accomplishments. He never lost sight of the irony that he was in the same boat.
And it's Carter's voice that shocks him back, as he's momentarily taken aback, almost forgetting how gorgeous the woman was. "Sergeant Barnes. It's good to have you home."
He smiled, putting aside the pang he had no one to come home to. "Good that you have your dancing partner back." He says, motioning to Steve.
"Good to see you have your clear memory."
"Not always." He says, an increasingly quieting part of him reminding him this may not be reality.
A doctor peered his head from the tent. "Barnes, James?"
"Yeah."
"Ready for you in here."
"Good seeing you, ma'am." He says politely, walking toward the plain brown tent.
The larger encampments stretched 40 feet or so, made as a temporary station for potential recruits who passed out on the field or sustained any minor injury.
This one was half that size, with just Steve, a few doctors and another man with his back turned on the far end. "Hey." Steve says, embracing him, a look of peace in his eyes he hoped to one day see.
"So what're we doing in the pop-up?"
"Facility's being used for something and the training hall is a recruit joint at the moment. Philips figured pop-up's better than nothing."
"Yeah, I guess." He replied, before a doctor asked him to take a seat on the makeshift bench, taking his blood pressure, heart rate.
As he gets ready to conclude, it's then that everything moves in slow motion. As the figure in the end turns to reveal Howard Stark; still fresh-faced and charming as his son. Chiseled features and curious eyes that he last saw as shocked, before everything went-
"Sergeant. Sergeant." The doctor's voice comes rushing back to his ears, a concerned look on his face. "Can you hear me?"
Stark walks up to him, and he expects a shot to the chest, a punch, anything. "You doing okay, pretty boy?" Stark says genuinely.
His stomach drops, as he tries to bite his tongue, desperate to tell Howard he's sorry. Sorry for not being able to break free, sorry for taking part in a mission that stripped him from his family, his son, his son who'll try to kill him and hell, he deserves it-
"...-rnes."
He feels nauseous slightly, as his breath is getting a bit hard to catch.
"I-I'm fine."
"Yeah, and I'm Greta Garbo. You should get some more rest Sergeant, I think the Colonel got a bit too giddy to get you back home."
"I'm fine, I swear."
"C'mon." Steve said, helping him up.
"Steve, I'm fine."
"Your heart rate spiked three-fold and you look like you've seen a ghost. Clearly, you're being worse than I am."
"No one's worse than you." He says, feeling tired.
"Damn right."