A Beautiful Day (2/3)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Rebecca Barnes, Bucky Barnes & Winnifred Barnes
Summary: On a beautiful day, shortly after the Blip, Bucky returned to a place he cherished as a child to explore his past. Unexpectedly, he met a stranger who also found comfort there, and soon befriended her as she became a steady presence in his conflicted life. Soon, with her gentle guidance, he reconnected with his youngest sister, uncovered the startling truth about his mother’s fate, and learned to heal by reclaiming pieces of his past.
Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Mentioned Death. Grief and Mourning. Discussion of Terminal Illnesses. Suicidal Ideation (nothing graphic). Bucky Barnes realizes the consequences of his actions as the Winter Soldier.
< PREVIOUS PART
Word Count: 12.5k
—<><>—<><>—<><>—
The sun shimmered brightly onto the damp grass, revealing the green blades that poked through the sparse patches of melting snow. The branches above, no longer frozen in ice, were eager to dress themselves in beautiful patterns of leaves. Spring was finally coming around, welcoming the people of Brooklyn into early March.
With his shoes lightly squishing into the familiar trail, Bucky sauntered with his hands tucked in his jacket. A few chirps caught his attention, prompting him to look up at another flock of birds returning from their migration, and his lips formed a faint smile as the world around him continued to wake up.
It had been a few weeks since he reunited with Becca, and his body had become significantly lighter, feeling more like his own than someone else’s. His feet didn’t scuff the earth as much, nor did he angrily mumble awake. Though the notebook in his jacket still weighed him down, it no longer forced him to crawl towards a hopeless future.
For once, Bucky felt like he deserved to live like everyone else.
Sighing leisurely, he looked straight ahead to see the gazebo slowly appear in view. A wave of nostalgia then washed over him as more childhood memories fluttered around him. His chest then tightened as a recent memory joined in. His feet shuffled briefly, but he continued to walk quickly to greet an old friend who always seemed to slip from his mind.
Wendy, sitting in the same spot as before, looked to the side to see who was approaching and straightened up. “Hello, Bucky.”
“Hello, Wendy,” he returned, not hesitating to sit beside her this time. “How are you?”
“I’ve been well. How about you?” She then glanced up and down at him and lightly chuckled. “I believe it’s been a while, but you seem like you’re in a good mood this morning.”
A soft smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. “I visited my sister.”
Immediately, Wendy’s lips went ajar as she turned her body to face him better. “That’s wonderful to hear. How was it?”
“Better than I ever expected.”
Her face brightened like the season, and she bobbed her head in pure bliss. “I’m glad to hear it. I bet she was happy to see her brother again.”
“Yeah.” He then took a gentle breath and smiled wider at her. “Thank you.”
“Me? What for?”
“You convinced me to go see her. I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you.”
“Oh, sweetie, you don’t know that.”
“But I do. Really.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “I can be very stubborn.”
Wendy lightly laughed with her hand up to her mouth, careful to not let a cough escape her throat. “Well, then, you’re welcome. I’m just happy to hear your reunion went great.”
Bucky nodded, as if the light within him bobbled up and down, and then he quietly watched Wendy set her gloved hand back down. The day was lovely—almost beautiful—as it continued to hum around them with melodies designed to ease a soul. And yet, he could see that something lived underneath her smile, like a shadow cast too harshly by intense brightness. It wasn’t quite sorrowful or guilty, but a weight that lingered until someone came to lift it. Bucky had noticed this before, but never took the time to process it, as Wendy was always helping him first.
So he leaned until his arms rested on his thighs, then he softly spoke, “Who are you waiting for?”
The older woman blinked, gathering her hands together on her lap with a weak grin. “Me?”
“You told me before that you’re waiting for someone. And it’s just…every time I come by, you’re always here. Who is it?”
Though her smile didn’t falter, it also didn’t expand. Instead, her dim eyes softened at Bucky’s wonder, and she sagged in her seat. Her hands tightened around each other as she faced ahead towards the slope. “I’m waiting for someone very dear to me,” she quietly responded. “Someone who’s currently lost, but on their way. Slowly, but surely.”
Then she lowered her chin, and Bucky followed her gaze at the train tracks, no longer hidden by mountains of snow. He heard her let out a small chuckle, hearing how her joy was trailed with cracks.
“I told them that the next time we’d see each other, I’d be waiting at these tracks,” Wendy lightly explained, and her smile finally widened. “So I’m still waiting, and I know they’re still coming.”
“Do you know when they’ll be here?” Bucky asked, still perplexed by her interesting wordplay, but not enough to dig into it, as the bittersweetness in her voice stopped him.
“Soon.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it.”
He raised an eyebrow, sitting up straight with curious eyes. “You feel it?”
“Of course. I feel warmer each day. Like they’re about to come and give me a big hug.”
“Are you sure it’s not because winter is ending?”
She lightly giggled, “Well, when you say it like that…”
Bucky joined her gentle laughter, both of their shoulders bouncing with the music within their hearts. The sun above them grew brighter as clouds passed by, illuminating the growing grass around the gazebo and the train tracks. Soon, the younger man and the older woman looked down the slope again, observing that, despite being covered in rust and dirt, the tracks seemed to speak to them both in a soothing whisper.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Wendy glanced at Bucky again. “Do you remember why I go by Wendy?”
“Uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck from the unexpected question until a spark ignited in his head. “Peter Pan, right?”
She nodded and offered him another grand smile. “The person I’m waiting for… We read it together all the time. Discussed what it would be like to go to Neverland. To never grow up. To… Well, forget everything.”
Bucky blinked at her latter words, tilting his head to the side as he responded, “I don’t remember that detail.”
“Oh? So you have read it before.”
“I…probably did. I mean, I did read a lot when I was a kid.”
“Again, you should pick up on reading again. It helps out when life gets too…mundane.” She stifled a cough and continued on, “We talked about the story a lot. Asked what it would mean to be so timeless, but also to forget to cherish time itself. It’s a wonderful story. If you read again, you should start off with that novel. I recommend it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Wendy smiled, then closed her eyes as a breeze blew through her salt-and-pepper hair. With a deep breath, her voice softened along with the world. “The one I’m waiting for… I think they’re finding their way here from Neverland. They got a little lost.”
A light grin pulled at Bucky’s lips as he was fascinated with her imaginary thoughts, and he leaned back. “So, what, they’re coming to take you there?”
She laughed. “Perhaps. Or maybe, it’s them who are returning from there…to come back to me.”
And with that, the two became wordless once more. Occasionally, they did break the silence here and there to chat about joyful memories. However, for the most part, they enjoyed each other’s warm company in peace, simply as two individuals who’d become familiar with loneliness.
At one point, Bucky glanced at the tracks again when he believed he heard another train horn, but quickly turned back to Wendy after pushing aside that thought. Again…there shouldn’t be any active trains around.
Perhaps, he was simply imagining it.
Eventually, Bucky got up, and Wendy watched him leave again. Her eyes stayed on him until he faded from view, and with a laugh, cleared of all coughs and wheezes, she vanished from the gazebo as well.
<><><>
The names in his notebook still haunted him, but they didn’t petrify Bucky anymore.
Instead, he still had enough strength to quietly flip through the book, noting that he had finally crossed off half of the names within the pages. He still remembered a brand-new name to add to the list now and then, but that ordeal slowed down as he made amends faster. But still, there were too many names—too many lives he’d changed for both their worst and his, and he let out a deep breath that was mixed with a groan.
“What are you sighing in my house for?” Becca broke the silence as she finally began to leave her kitchen, holding a tray with coffee mugs and cookies.
“Nothing,” Bucky swiftly replied.
But as he tried to slip his notebook into his jacket, Becca raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk. “Ah! Hold it right there. Let me see the book.”
He sighed again, “Becca.”
“Jimmy.”
“Becca.”
“James Barnes.”
“Jesus— Okay, okay,” he huffed through a faint smile, setting the notebook on the coffee table as she placed the tray down too.
While Bucky helped himself to freshly-brewed coffee and homemade sugar cookies—and ignoring Clover’s puppy eyes as he silently begged for treats—Becca sat beside him. She opened the notebook, examining each page with a tenderness in her hands and heart.
“Wow,” she grinned, “you’ve been working hard.”
He lifted his eyebrows with amusement. “You say that like I’m not a hardworking person.”
“I don’t know, Jimmy… You can be pretty stubborn.”
With a chuckle, Bucky took another sip of his drink while remembering he had said the exact same thing to…to…somebody.
Before he could think about it longer, his sister closed the notebook and handed it back to him with bright eyes. “You’re slowly getting there.”
He chortled. “I’m only halfway.”
“That’s still a lot. You should be very proud.”
A light blush seeped onto his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Am I embarrassing you right now?”
“Shut up.”
Becca snickered at him before whistling at Clover, prompting him to stop staring at Bucky and retreat onto the sofa to sit against her leg. He lay his head on her lap, closing his eyes as she began to pet him, and Bucky softened at the sight.
After placing the mug back onto the coffee table, he lightly nudged her arm. “I was thinking…”
“Oh, how dangerous,” she immediately quipped, still staring at her dog.
Bucky rolled his eyes with a playful grin. “I was thinking, do you remember that old gazebo by the train tracks? The one we had picnics at when we were kids?”
Becca’s hand stilled, causing Clover to look up at her and wonder why she looked so fragile. Her brother’s grin vanished as she slowly collected herself, and she looked up at him with a shaky smile.
“I do remember it. Why?” Becca carefully asked.
Bucky frowned at her vulnerability and continued on just as cautiously, “I thought maybe we could go visit it together. I’ve been going there lately.”
“I-It’s still around?”
“Yeah. It’s definitely rough now, but it’s still here.” Then he turned his body to gaze at her head on. “…Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
The elderly woman couldn’t reply right away, her hands trembling occasionally while she stared back into his blue eyes. Then, with another broken smile, she shook her head. “I can’t go there anymore. I haven’t been there since Mom died.”
Bucky’s heart halted, a tremor blooming in his chest while his guts twisted like a wrung-out, wet towel. Slowly, his fractured mind gathered its shards to connect Becca’s words together into something sensible, as they were far too heavy to carry all at once. His shoulders slumped into the sofa, and his eyes darted away, drifting to the memory of someone so dear to him.
Right. Mom was gone, and she died too early.
With a sliver of breath, Bucky met Becca’s gaze again and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I read that Mom had lung disease.”
Becca nodded with a creak in her neck. “That’s right.”
“Did she…suffer?” he asked, though his heart tried to yank the words back, too terrified to know the answer.
He wanted Becca to shake her head—to say that his mother went as peacefully as he hoped. But instead, her smile faltered.
“A lot,” she whispered, unable to hide the truth despite wishing for a lovely time with her brother today.
Bucky choked on his breath suddenly, curling his hand around his leg in an attempt to compose himself. Immediately, his sister reached for his arm, squeezing it to comfort them both. Neither sibling spoke for a while—one recalling how ill their mother was, and the other imagining how her last days played out.
“I won’t lie to you, Jimmy,” Becca softly said, her voice wavering from the memories. “Mom didn’t have the easiest time. Some days, she was too weak to move, coughing up a storm until she passed out because she couldn’t breathe properly. Other days, she would be fine, but still had to lie in bed thinking about how her life was ending.”
“She knew how long she had?” Bucky gasped, his eyes widening as the story proceeded.
“She did. Doctors gave her six months, but she was gone within four. And…” Becca took a sharp breath and tried to force a smile. “That gazebo was the last place Mom was at. She died there.”
Freezing underneath her touch, Bucky couldn’t turn away from his sister, his eyes still enlarged at the discovery. Although he opened his mouth, no words could describe how he felt to know that all the time, he had been visiting not just a place from his childhood, but his mother’s final memory. Dropping her hand from Bucky’s arm, Becca shifted in her seat and pet Clover again, watching the dog exhale deeply as if he could feel his family’s sorrow.
“Mom didn’t wanna die in the hospital,” Becca began, knowing that her brother wanted to know what happened even if he couldn’t speak. “But no matter how much she asked to leave, the doctors didn’t give her permission. To be honest, none of us did, because we wanted her to have the best chance of survival. But she said she didn’t want to survive. She wanted to live, but accepted that it wasn’t gonna happen anymore.”
Clover then lifted his head, pawing at Becca’s leg until he snuggled closer to her, and she faintly smiled at her companion. “She begged… Even when she could barely say a word without spitting up blood, she kept asking. But the doctors kept denying her, especially as the weather grew colder and the air grew drier. We all…particularly Dad, told her to please stay still. To rest. Recover so that she could come home. But then…she snuck out.”
“What?” Bucky grimaced, his head shaking at his mother’s action. “That’s…dangerous. Stupid.”
“It definitely was,” Becca let out a broken chuckle. “She snuck out early in the morning without telling anyone, even us. God, we were so angry when the doctors called Dad and said she was missing. Dad was gone for like, what, a few hours to take care of some family stuff, and this happens? How do you lose a patient? We all went on a wild goose chase. We looked everywhere… And then, she was right there.”
She locked eyes with Bucky’s and her faint smile deepened with both love and grief. “We finally found her at that gazebo. She was freezing and covered in snow, but…” she let out a suppressed laugh, “she was so happy to be there with all of us, just like the good old days when we had picnics by the train, no matter how loud it got. She wouldn’t let us take her back to the hospital, so we stayed with her until the end.”
“She went all the way out there? Alone?” Bucky whispered. “Why there?”
But instead of answering, Becca quietly sat there long enough for him to notice her quivering lips. So he let out a heavy breath before it simply hitched. “But she… If she had just…” Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence as his throat was too strained to string together a coherent sentence.
However, his sister knew what he was trying to say and lightly shook her head. “Mom refused to go back to the hospital. And even if she did go back…her time was up.”
Then, with a stuttering heart, she slowly rose from the sofa and walked towards her bookshelf. Bucky watched her skim over her collection of books until she plucked out a scuffed, leather-bound album and returned to his side. Quietly, she slid it onto his lap, whereas Clover dropped his head back onto hers with a sigh.
“Here,” Becca smiled before opening to a specific page for him.
A soft gasp escaped Bucky’s mouth as he stared down at black-and-white photographs, all taken more than seventy years ago. His whole body hesitated to move, terrified of damaging the stories that felt so far away, but after Becca gently grabbed his upper arm, he finally began to flip through the pages.
A movie played in his head, beginning on the day he left for war and rewinding into his childhood. He lingered on every photo he and his family had taken throughout his life—holidays, school pictures, special occasions. Among all these photos, he saw the person he was with his loved ones.
He saw a young man with a dazzling smile, decorating the house for the holidays with his sisters, a year before their country joined the war.
He saw a teenage boy with a faint black eye standing beside his father, proudly showing off his high school graduation outfit.
He saw an infant with the biggest eyes, gazing up at his mother, who cradled him as if he were the source of all happiness. And his mother… She smiled at the camera so brilliantly, wondering how such a beautiful boy could come from someone like her.
God. He missed his family. He missed his father, sisters, and mother. He missed…all of it. A whole life with them. Their accomplishments, their mistakes, their beginnings and ends—all gone in the blink of an eye because he fell off a train.
His mother… She was so happy to be with her family one last time…but he wasn’t there when she died.
He missed her.
Becca silently watched her brother put his hand on the photo of him as a baby, but it wasn’t himself he was looking at. As his fingers inched closer to his mother’s face, Bucky bit his bottom lip to force it to stop quivering. And at that moment, it hit him—his mother was always smiling. No matter how difficult life got, she had found a way to share her love through everything they endured together.
So…when she passed…she must’ve…
“Mom smiled, didn’t she?” Bucky finally whispered. “When she passed away.”
Becca’s eyes widened just a bit, then she quickly hummed out a grin. “How did you know?”
“She always smiled, even when things got bad.” Bucky brushed his hand against his mother’s face once more. “I remember every time I got injured, she’d just fix me up and smile, saying I was brave for protecting Steve again. And when… We had a nasty snowstorm at one point, right? Nearly took out half of Brooklyn. But Mom…”
“Mom told you to look up and that a better day was coming,” Becca gently finished, recalling the story before her grin turned fond. “She was always positive, wasn’t she? When she was sick… It was hard, but you’re right. She was always smiling. I mean, she was happy to be there with us at the end, but I think she was also trying to stay positive for us. It’s like… Remember when you were about to leave for the war, and Mom tried her best to keep a smile on?”
“I can’t forget it,” he said tenderly. “She was crying so much, but still made me feel better about leaving.”
“That’s Ma, alright.”
“Yeah.” Bucky traced his thumb over his mother’s smile, and he lightly laughed. “Ma really was the best.”
<><><>
Even though it was morning, Brooklyn was so fucking loud.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, Bucky brushed past the numerous people on the street, walking home after another terrible therapy session. If he had gone yesterday, he would’ve assumed that the whole session was an April Fool’s joke, but instead, it was unfortunately real.
“Stop lying to me, James,” Dr. Raynor exhaled, already tapping her pen onto her notebook.
“I’m not,” Bucky repeated with the same amount of disdain.
“Our inability to communicate is making our sessions really difficult, you know that?”
“You say that, but I think we can both agree on that.”
Dr. Raynor scoffed, writing down who knew what in her notebook. “If you can’t be honest with me, then I can’t help you. So, I’m gonna ask you again… What have you remembered about your family?”
That his sisters used to have competitions over who could make Bucky the happiest, sharing doodles and snacks and waiting to see who he’d choose as the winner. That his father would often come home with sore muscles after a long day of work, and Bucky would knead his shoulders without hesitation while his father shared how his day went. That his mother always welcomed him home with a firm hug, then guided him to the dinner table where she had laid out his favorite meals.
That out of the four Barnes siblings, Bucky resembled his mother the most, much to his sisters’ dismay, as she was a woman of true beauty inside and out. With luscious, coffee-brown hair and gentle, glacier-blue eyes that made every woman gawk in jealousy and every man fall in love, she’d walk around with a laugh, spreading joy wherever she went.
But all of this—everything he had learned since visiting Becca—felt too personal to share even with his therapist. Also, it didn’t help that Dr. Raynor was unaware that Bucky had reunited with his sister, and he knew she’d go insane now if she found out he was hiding that fact.
So he crossed his arms and shrugged. “Not much.”
And with that, Dr. Raynor sighed.
Of course, she continued her attempts to dig into his head, and he built a shield around his family. For once, he had memories that belonged only to him, out of HYDRA’s reach and the government’s control, and he was not about to let someone else get ahold of them. But that only made the session more intense, even prompting Dr. Raynor to warn Bucky that his noncompliance could end his chances of being pardoned.
But honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck right now, not when he was going to see Becca again today. Since first visiting her over a month ago, Bucky had been stopping by her home three, sometimes four, times a week.
“At this point, you should just move in,” Becca said.
And he did think about it, but decided against it because he didn’t want to be so bothersome and intrusive to her personal space.
“You’re my brother. We’re meant to annoy each other,” she then chortled.
Maybe that was true, but in the end, they agreed that, for Bucky to adapt better to the modern world, he needed to live as his own man. Not as Becca Barnes’s brother, or Steve Rogers’s best friend, or HYDRA’s fist.
Simply James Bucky Barnes.
A smile bloomed on his face as he continued to make his way home, wondering if he should pick up food before going to his sister’s so that they could have lunch together again. He had once stopped by with pastries from a bakery, but got scolded because she claimed her goods were a million times better than his. So, desserts were usually off the table, but everything else?
“I’m not gonna say no to free food.”
She was still the same Becca he’d known as a young man, and that brought a chuckle to his lips. He looked around as he strolled, glancing past the civilians around him to see if any local restaurant caught his eye. But then his feet slightly skidded when he noticed his reflection glimmer in a glass window, and he turned to face the tiny bookstore with novels displayed behind the window. There were new editions—modern stories of love and heroes—among the older stories he did recognize. But at the center of the display was a title he’d been hearing about so often.
Bucky gazed at the copy of Peter Pan, noting the watercolor cover of flying children against a starry sky. It wasn’t the largest book on the shelf, but it was undoubtedly the most whimsical out of all of them. Without realizing, he stepped right up to the glass, unable to look away from the novel as he slowly began to remember…
Wendy.
It had been a few weeks since he’d stopped by the gazebo—since he’d seen his old friend and told her how he’d been while she listened with the closest attention. There were days when he would wake up with the urge to visit the site and his friend, but then the feeling would dissipate before he’d eaten breakfast. As much as he regretted not saying hello to the older woman who’d helped him more than she could realize, it was difficult to step onto the trail.
Since learning that the gazebo was where his mother took her last breath, he had been reluctant to visit. The air of that place almost felt wrong now, despite him not breathing it in since discovering his mother’s fate. If anything, all of the nerves in Bucky’s body spiked whenever he considered the idea of walking there, his arms tingling while his knees threatened to buckle.
Maybe he was too scared. Maybe spineless. A coward. Maybe…
He was sad.
His heart was already covered in stitches, sewn poorly by him as an attempt to keep it together. The idea of his mother crawling to this sacred place with a trembling body and bloody throat…it tore him apart in an unimaginable way. He wondered how much she suffered—how painful it was to breathe in frozen air with damaged lungs beyond fixing.
Despite all that, to know that she still smiled as she passed…
God. She really was amazing.
A bell jingled as someone stepped out of the bookstore, snapping Bucky out of his sorrowful thoughts. His gaze found the children’s novel once more, and he glanced at the door with a small desire to buy it. However, as minutes passed and the streets became louder, a defeated sigh escaped his lips before he turned away.
Maybe, as strange as it sounded, he was afraid of visiting Neverland.
<><><>
It was the middle of April when Bucky noticed something odd about Becca. And no, he wasn’t saying that as her “annoying” big brother.
When he arrived at her house, he immediately sensed that the air around them was slightly off. He had looked into her eyes when he said hello, and saw that while they weren’t cold or distant, it was clear that Becca was simply…elsewhere. It was as if someone was tugging on a string attached to the back of her mind, distracting her from their usual conversations.
Bucky asked if she was okay, and she said yes.
Bullshit.
And yet, instead of calling her out, he stayed silent. In any other situation, he would’ve quickly pointed out her lies. However, once he realized that she didn’t seem sad, or worried, or even nervous, he began to suspect that it was he who was thinking too hard. After all, he spent decades analyzing his surroundings, trained to find remnants of people no matter how hard they tried to hide. So Bucky decided to bite his tongue and not pry, letting his sister speak for herself when she chose to.
Sounds of pages fluttering and water running filled the silence as Bucky flipped through an album and Becca washed dishes in the kitchen. After getting kicked out into the living room for attempting to clean their plates after dinner, Bucky retreated to the sofa with an album of stories from the past decade. Clover lightly snored against his thigh, keeping the man company while he appreciated every family photo with a soft smile.
When he first discovered that Becca was still alive, he had assumed she’d already had children and grandchildren. But to see photos of her great-grandchildren—his great-grandnephews and nieces—made another scar on his heart fade away. He admired every picture, reading each caption as if it could tell the whole story of what happened that day.
Hawaii 2017
Charlie’s 4th Birthday
Thanksgiving 2023 (family reunion!)
As he examined every photo, Bucky let himself imagine how family dinners and vacations would’ve gone if he were there. He wondered when he would be ready to meet his extended family and whether he would ever have these kinds of memories.
He hoped he did. That would be nice.
With a soft exhale, he closed the album as Becca walked over with two mugs of tea, prompting Clover to lift his head in anticipation.
“No more treats for you!” she immediately scolded her dog with a light tone. “You ate enough today.”
A brutal sigh huffed out of Clover’s nose, and he dropped his head onto Bucky’s lap, making him gently laugh and pet him. “Aw, c’mon, Becca. Maybe just one more?”
“No!” She grinned while handing him a mug and taking a seat in her armchair. “Trust me, I spoiled him enough for today.”
Bucky chuckled as he set the album onto the coffee table and took a long sip of his warm drink. On the other hand, Becca didn’t drink her beverage, but instead watched her brother with a careful eye. Then she followed Bucky’s movement and placed the cup down by his, and he glanced up with curious eyes at her demeanor.
She took a soft breath. “I was thinking…”
“That’s surprising,” he immediately quipped.
“Quiet, you,” Becca giggled. “I was thinking about what you said a few weeks ago.”
Bucky’s grin faltered, and he sat up. “About what?”
“The gazebo,” she said with a nervous smile, and her brother’s expression shone in surprise and awe. “I think we should go there.”
“Really?”
She raised a playful eyebrow at him. “Yes, really. Why?”
“You seemed unsure about it before.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to change my mind?”
“You are,” he finally let out a laugh. “I’m just wondering what made you change your mind.”
Becca hummed, fidgeting in her seat as her eyes focused on the rug underneath her slippers. “A lot of things. Mainly…I think I want to stop being afraid and forgive myself.”
At that, Bucky lifted his head, his lips parting as he blinked at her. “Forgive yourself?”
She nodded, and her smile became weak. “For being angry at Mom.”
The living room went still. Bucky’s lips shifted into a frown while shame seeped onto his sister’s face. With another weary breath, she moved from the armchair to the sofa, sitting right beside her brother, who immediately offered a hand for comfort.
As she squeezed his hand with both of hers, Becca closed her eyes. “I…I didn’t mention this before… Honestly, I was a little scared to see how you’d react.”
Bucky kept quiet, but his heart began to race from the million possibilities of what she could say next.
But he didn’t have to wait long, for Becca opened her eyes to stare at her hands around his. “Mom always had this belief that…that you were still around.”
“…Like as a ghost?” he asked, his voice already fragile while he became more puzzled.
“I don’t know, but she always believed that you were still with us. Watching us from afar… Making sure we were okay.” She inhaled deeply before continuing, “When you…died, Mom grieved like hell. We all did, but she broke the most. Out of all of us, she held onto the most hope that you’d come back in one piece. So when we received the letter about your death, she lost it… Cried, saying that a parent shouldn’t outlive their child.”
Bucky’s eyes began to glisten, but that was as damp as they got while Becca proceeded to narrate, “One day, a few weeks after we had your funeral, Mom started to visit the gazebo. We went with her the first few times, but with work, school, and getting settled, we all got busy. Ma, on the other hand, never stopped. Once a week, she’d go and stay there for hours. She believed that one day, she’d get to see you there. That your…spirit, or presence, or whatever she saw it as…would show up.”
Finally, Becca looked up to meet her brother’s eyes with her own as tears slowly slipped from them. “You asked me before why Mom went to the gazebo the day she died. It was because…she wanted to be with you.”
Bucky’s throat tightened as his eyes shot open. “Mom died because of…”
“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. Mom was gonna go there no matter what. I mean… Oh, James,” she softly said, giving him a half-smile with another squeeze to his hand. “You have no idea just how much she missed you. Even when she was hospitalized, she thought about you more than herself. And when her condition got worse, and she knew she wasn’t making it, she told us that she was gonna see you again.”
Immediately, he began to shake his head, looking down at the floor as his breath hitched. “But she didn’t… I’m still…”
“Alive, and that’s better than what she could’ve ever wanted. I just know she’s thrilled to see you’re still with us, and I’m sure she’s patiently waiting for you now.”
Then, Becca released his hand and reached for a tissue to wipe her face, whereas Bucky continued to sit there with a sheen to his eyes. His mom went all the way there just for him, even though he was frozen by HYDRA the entire time. To imagine his mother sitting at the bench alone, waiting for any sign of him to pop up when he was nowhere near the gazebo to begin with…
He hated it. He hated knowing that it happened this way. He hated—
“I hated her for sneaking out.”
His hands clenched against his knees, and Bucky slowly turned to see Becca’s eyes lost—distant—as she held her tissue tighter. “I was mad at her…and the world, really. I hated her for sneaking out. The doctors for not saving her. That she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and still was stupid enough to—”
Her breath hitched, and she clamped her mouth close, trying not to let any more tears fall. With a sharp breath, she whispered, “I was so mad at her that I stopped going to the gazebo, even when our family asked me to join. And I only stopped by the cemetery to see her when Dad wanted to go. I just…couldn’t understand why she had to be so stubborn and reckless, even when we begged her to stay still. Even though I loved her and grieved, I refused to do much with her. But…”
A broken, bittersweet laugh crackled from her throat. “Then I had kids of my own, and I suddenly understood it all. She always said it herself—no parent should outlive their child—and I finally realized that, if I was in her shoes…I would’ve done the exact same thing. With my grief, I would’ve gone to wherever my kids were the happiest and stayed until…”
A few more teardrops fell from her face, landing on her lap as she lowered her head. “I was so angry at her that when I finally understood how she felt, it was like…I didn’t deserve to see her anymore.”
“Becca,” Bucky whispered.
“And I want to believe like Ma did. That maybe…she’s also around.” She smiled through her tears. “Maybe she’s still here as a spirit, or presence, or whatever. But then, that means if I go there and she’s around, she might not be happy to see me—”
She suddenly stopped speaking, surprised by Clover leaping off the sofa and plopping his head onto her lap. The Barnes siblings both blinked at the dog, who gazed up at Becca with such warmth, and Bucky felt a wave of relief when Becca giggled, the sound light unlike before.
As she began to pet Clover, she sighed, “But I think…regardless of everything, I want to go there and forgive myself for…for hating Mom for everything. Is…is that silly?”
Bucky swiftly shook his head, offering her a soft smile. “I think it’s brave.”
“Brave.” Becca managed to laugh at that word. “I’m not like you, who’s…you know, stubbornly reckless and stupidly brave.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They both laughed together, and she wiped away more of her tears as she hummed. “I felt horrible resenting Mom for doing the right thing. I just hope she knows I’m not mad anymore.”
Bucky’s lip slightly curled into a grin, and he softly spoke to comfort his sister. “I’m sure she knows. But also…she’s gotta know that sneaking off by herself wasn’t the right thing to do. I mean, scaring the shit out of all of you? I don’t know about that.”
She weakly laughed. “Maybe not, but saving lives definitely is.”
At that, Bucky paused.
The whole room—the mood of their conversation—suddenly shifted, and Becca immediately felt confusion radiate off her brother. She turned to look at him and noticed his furrowed eyebrows.
“Mom saved people?” he slowly repeated.
For a moment, Becca stared at him, just as confused but for different reasons. Her hand stilled on Clover’s head, but he continued to keep his eyes closed as she blinked at her brother. “She… Wait, you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“…Mom saved a whole bunch of people. That’s…how she got lung disease.”
Time went still—the hour and minute hand no longer ticked loud enough to fill the silence in the room. Bucky gazed at his sister, his breath caught sharply in his throat from the words that had slipped from her lips. If it wasn’t for the sofa, he would’ve collapsed to the floor from gravity bending around him. He didn’t expect this—never once considered that his mother’s death wasn’t caused by genetics—as nothing in her obituary had mentioned it. All it said was that she died of a lung disease, survived by her husband and three daughters.
Nothing mentioned her dying as a hero of some kind.
Bucky continued to sit there, all oxygen drained from his lungs as the shock simmered underneath his skin, and Becca watched his posture change so rapidly. His shoulders began to curl, and his hands threatened to tremble. Biting the inside of her mouth, she reached for his shaky hand and squeezed it, making his breath hitch before he managed to look at her again.
“You didn’t know…” Becca whispered, the realization hitting her brutally as well. “Oh, no, Jimmy… I didn’t know you didn’t know. I’m sorry… I would’ve told you first thing. I’d assumed you found out about it somehow.”
“It wasn’t mentioned in her obituary,” he said with a crack in his voice. “What… What do you… Becca, what happened to Mom?”
“James—”
“Rebecca, who hurt Mom?”
“No one hurt Mom, Jimmy,” she quickly said, but then immediately winced. “Well…”
His breath stuttered. “What?”
She squeezed his hands again, and it was enough to get him to slump back into his seat. His breath slipped away as he observed Becca, who had clearly been unprepared to share this unexpected story. But with a sigh, she managed to put on a bittersweet smile for both of their sakes. “There was a protest that ended badly.”
“When?”
“A few years after you passed. There was an event in Manhattan where she was volunteering. Some political thing, but it was supposed to be fun to relieve the tension everyone was feeling during the Korean War. But then the anti-war protesters came along, and things just got intense. Everybody was fighting somebody—you know how it is.”
“Unfortunately, I do,” he scowled, unamused by society’s flaw of resorting to using fists before words.
“Yeah, but while everyone was fighting, someone decided they needed to smoke right by a gas tank. But there was a leak or something, and it set off an explosion. It shouldn’t have been deadly, but it still managed to blow up an entire block. We later found out that a bomb had gone off with it. Authorities said that one of the protesters—the insane person they were—must’ve been carrying it. So many people died from that, and to make it worse, there was a giant chemical spill. Colored smoke and fireworks went off everywhere. Ma was nearby when it happened, but instead of running away, she…”
Becca’s eyes glistened as she took a heavy breath. “She saw these people—these children—hurt and surrounded by fire, so she helped them to safety despite being injured herself. She inhaled a lot of the fumes and gas in the process—so much that she ended up at the hospital months later and…”
When she couldn’t finish the sentence, Bucky’s lips parted to only let out a sharp breath. He felt…hollow, like someone had gone and scooped out a part of his soul that was dedicated to his mother. How could he not have known all these years? It was shortly after HYDRA’s fall and his escape to Romania when he found the articles about what happened to his family.
His father passed away from natural causes in 1967. His sisters did as well in 2002 and 2009, respectively. His mother succumbed to lung disease in the middle of February in 1951, when the snow was at its heaviest and the world was merely white.
That was all the text said, but rather than digging deeper, he became terrified by the fact that he had lost a family he didn’t realize he had, so he stopped looking further into it.
Still…that was years ago. Now, Bucky had his mind back—he was being pardoned. Good things were truly happening, and he had all the time in the world now to research deeper into his family’s fate.
But he was too afraid of reconnecting with his loved ones who were far gone. He knew what he had left behind—his mother, father, and sisters—but who he had left behind was still a mystery. Yes, Dr. Raynor told him to remember his life with them, and he was proud to say that he was, but to figure out who they all had become before they passed… To learn if his sisters changed when they started a family, if his father still read the paper in the morning, if his mother still made his favorite meals despite his absence… The idea of it shook him to his core, and once again he felt…
Lost.
He was free, but so lost.
His mother died a hero, and he had no idea this whole time.
His mother died because someone hurt her, and he had no idea this whole time.
His mother died with hopes that she’d reunite with her son, and he had—
“James?” Becca gently whispered, and he slowly looked up to meet her worried gaze. “Are you okay?”
He blinked and forced out a faltering grin, trying to act like he didn’t feel ill. “Not really. I didn’t expect to…to grieve for Mom like this. I always thought she got lung disease from our family history. Not…that.”
She nodded, then slightly grimaced with shame. “I really didn’t know you were unaware of this… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad I know now.” Bucky then deeply exhaled and plastered on a wider grin as an attempt to lighten the mood. “I definitely wasn’t expecting this, but…I don’t know. It’s nice knowing Mom was a hero at the end of her life.”
Becca hummed in agreement, her own lips curling upward. “Mom was always a hero. You know…you could say she was stubbornly reckless—”
“—And stupidly brave,” Bucky finished.
“Just like you,” she said while nudging him, and they both huffed out a more genuine smile. “Because let’s be honest… You did not get your bravery from Dad.”
“You said it, not me.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“Maybe,” he breathed with a gentle chuckle. “Ma was the fiercer one between the two of them.”
“Certainly,” Becca said as she rose from the sofa, ambling to the kitchen to get desserts now that they’d digested their dinner. Then, pushing aside the lump in her voice, she quickly tried to change the subject to move on from the sorrow. “Do you remember when she caught a thief by Richard’s?”
A wave of nostalgia smacked Bucky in the face, and his smile expanded despite the lingering twinge in his chest. “Oh god, yeah… Didn’t she trip him?”
“Stuck her leg out while he was running,” she confirmed while retrieving her strawberry cheesecake from the fridge. “He broke a tooth from falling so hard, and Mom scolded him while he was getting arrested.”
He laughed lightly at that, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure the police were shocked by her.”
Setting the cheesecake on the dining table, Becca giggled. “They were, because I can never forget their faces. One of them even asked Mom if she wanted to work for the police, and she just laughed, thinking he was joking.”
With a hum, Bucky began to stand up, but his sister immediately pointed at him with sharp eyes. “Don’t you dare help me.”
He rolled his eyes. “It feels wrong to just sit here. I can at least cut the cake.”
“I don’t trust you. You’ll ruin my masterpiece.”
“You do realize I’ve been trained to use a knife for literally every situation, right?”
“Just sit still, and I’ll bring over the dessert.”
Bucky grumbled, but continued to sit back down with a playful grin while Becca lowered her hand at him. She winked before heading back into the kitchen, looking for the fancy dessert plates that she’d only use whenever special guests were over, and Clover walked towards her with a skip in his step. The sound of kitchen doors and plates clinging filled the silence, and Bucky let out a small sigh before closing his eyes.
Right… He did get his bravery from his mother. A pang of guilt spiked in his chest for forgetting, but it was quickly overcome by sudden memories of his mother’s courage. There were moments when life seemed scary, but his mother would comfort him by saying everything was going to be okay.
A bully had teased and punched him when he was thirteen, but then she dragged the student to his home to speak to the parents about their child’s misbehavior.
A cop had arrested him for being involved in a bar fight when he was twenty-two, but then she argued with all of the officers at the station with the notion that self-defense should never be punished.
A blizzard had knocked out their power when he was seven, but then she lit some candles in his bedroom and snuggled with him as she read their favorite bedtime story.
She was brave. She was amazing.
She was Winnifred Barnes—the person he missed the most out of everyone he’d left behind.
Slowly, Bucky opened his eyes and glanced over to see Becca walking back to the dining table with plates. He realized he hadn’t been zoning out for a while, though it felt like years had passed. As she carefully navigated the knife around her delicious cheesecake, he examined everything about her—the visible veins on her hands and sunspots by her temple—and his eyes softened to see just how much time had affected her.
And yet, he could still see her as a teenager—seventeen years old with a spark to her eyes, though the flame extinguished when she said goodbye to her big brother during the war. A faint frown reached his lips when it occurred to him that his family had watched their country enter one devastating war after another, never receiving a break from violence and conflict.
Like Becca said, everyone felt the tension during uncertain times, so he wasn’t surprised to hear that a deadly fight broke out the day his mother got hurt.
Damn. He honestly could envision just how Manhattan looked during the Korean War, and—
He calmly waited for the politicians to approach the stage, watching their every move through a pair of binoculars.
Bucky froze, his lungs seizing, his eyes going still.
Too focused on the aesthetic of her dessert, Becca didn’t notice the sudden shift in the room and instead giggled at Clover, who stood right beside her, hoping that she’d drop a little piece of filling onto the floor. As she placed a slice on the first plate, her brother’s hands curled into his thighs as his breathing became irregular, fighting against his chest’s unwillingness to loosen. Suddenly, his left hand twitched before—
His metal finger rested on the trigger, but he narrowed his eyes at the sudden commotion in the streets—of a large group of people marching in with anti-war signs and screams of protest.
How strange. This certainly wasn’t part of the plan.
Bucky dropped his mouth open, trying to get air into his lungs, but none would go in, and no sound would come out. He was utterly silent, despite feeling so much revolting agony in his heart. All noises around him—the spatula sliding underneath the second slice, Clover’s panting, and Becca’s words—became muffled, as if Bucky was floating helplessly underwater, and—
He flinched ever so slightly when an explosion went off, momentarily stunned by how it blew up the crowd into hundreds of pieces. People shrieked in horror, scrambling to flee from the swirling smoke and fire. Others lay on the concrete, unable to move from shocking agony and leaking blood.
Slowly, he glanced at his trigger, the button still untouched and waiting.
Surely, someone was calling for him. Someone was saying his name, but—
He set down the device and analyzed the scene with dark eyes, concluding that one of the gas tanks in proximity must’ve exploded—that an idiot must’ve used their lighter nearby. Nonetheless, he was planning on pulling the trigger for his bomb at any second, so maybe the plan didn’t change too much.
With his binoculars, he examined the chaos again, watching civilians escape from the massacre while a few ran directly into the fire to save who they could. But those people didn’t concern him; once he located the corpse of every politician he was assigned to kill, he stood up from his post.
Congratulations, Winter Soldier, for another successful mission. It was time to go—
“James!”
Bucky wheezed, releasing his knees with a wince before he snapped his head up, meeting Becca’s horrified eyes.
“Jimmy,” she breathed heavily with her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong—”
But she flinched when Bucky scrambled away, and she watched him tumble to the floor while Clover began to bark. She plopped onto the sofa, her knees startled by his frantic movements, and she saw him violently shaking on his side, unable to catch a single clear breath. In his eyes was the purest form of terror, burning him from the inside out while he suddenly smacked his hand against his chest.
“Jimmy,” she gasped, rising to her feet again before slowly approaching. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself. It’s alright. You’re—”
Becca widened her eyes at how her big brother immediately scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door. There was no chance for her to yell at him to wait—the front door was already swung open, and he ran down the street away from the setting sun.
<><><>
Stop it. Please stop it.
But Bucky couldn’t. His feet kept moving, his heart kept pounding, and his eyes kept watering against the wind hitting his face. And his left hand—the potential that turned him into a weapon—kept clutching at his chest.
Stop it. Why was this happening? Just breathe. Breathe.
But he choked, unable to grasp a single puff of air as he ran. The world blurred around him as the sun disappeared, coloring the sky from orange to black, which mirrored his hope for a better future. His feet unevenly stomped into the gravel pathway, his body on the verge of collapsing as if everything around him was trying to drag him down to punish him.
Slow down. Just stop! Take a breath, please! This couldn’t go on any longer. Please stop it—
When his foot caught on something, Bucky yelped before falling to the ground, and he hissed as shards of a broken bottle cut into his right hand. But the pain in his hand was only temporary, for his whole body screamed through torturous memories flooding into his mind.
Autumn of 1950. Five years after he was captured, Bucky went on one of his first official missions as the Winter Soldier. It took HYDRA all those years to deploy him on his own, as his mind had fought relentlessly to stay intact and escape their control until it became severely fried. Unlike his previous missions, in which he received only a single target to erase after dusk, this one asked him to be a ghost in the middle of the day, in the middle of a city, in the middle of a festival.
But if he could prove to his handlers that he could accomplish it without any assistance, then they’d know just how valuable he was.
The pebbles cracked within Bucky’s hands as he curled them into the ground, some digging into his bloody skin and others disintegrating from the vibranium’s force. Again, with his head down and damp eyes glazed over the dirt, he sharply gasped for air, but none of it reached his lungs.
After all, did he deserve it? How dare he— How fucking dare he beg for air when all those people stopped breathing? The Winter Soldier complied and killed all of those men, mangled their bodies with explosives, while burning innocent lives made up of children and their mothers and fathers and…
Mother.
He killed his own mother.
She was there. Bucky’s mother was right there, and he… He was a monster. How could he ask for a breath when his mother couldn’t even…
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe— No, please, stop, please someone— Someone help—
Bucky wheezed, shifting onto his knees as he slammed his fists into the ground. His eyes welled up with hot tears that threatened to fall, his internal machinery rebelling against HYDRA’s mandate that prohibited him from mourning his own victims.
Wipe his mind. Erase his thoughts. Destroy every part of him that sympathized with his victims. They were prey! Nothing more, and nothing…
No, that was his mother. That was Ma. She was just a building away, and he didn’t help her. He couldn’t help her because he was too weak to stop HYDRA—too scared to refuse orders—too much of a fucking monster to notice the brave human running into the flames.
She died twice because of him; in Manhattan and at the gazebo, she succumbed to death because of him. Him, and only him! This was all of his fault, and no one else’s!
And he dared to breathe? To have fucking mercy? To be alive?
Tears rushed onto the ground as Bucky grabbed his head, and he squeezed at the exact spots where HYDRA would place the machine to wipe his head, hoping that he could erase his memories right now. His throat choked on nothing, his eyes quivered at nothing, and his heart tore at everything as he remembered his mother’s grace—how her laugh made the room flutter—how she smiled at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world.
She was gone. She was dead. He wanted her back. He wanted his mom back, so please bring her back! She wasn’t supposed to go yet. She had more time! Give her time— Give her his time!
He wanted his mama back, so please— PLEASE! Bring her back! BRING HER BACK—
When the sun finally vanished, Bucky shrieked at the world with all his tears flooding his heart, and he wished that he had just died when he fell off that train.
<><><>
April was a week away from ending, but Bucky didn’t notice how much time had passed since sobbing for his mother.
His soul was both hollow like a gutted corpse and overflowing like a surging sea storm, all while his head poked at the truth of his mother’s death. It felt like the world was taunting him, forcing him to stare at the very hands that wiped away the most beautiful presence in the universe. Now, he could no longer comprehend where his grief ended and anger began.
He was so fucking angry, and the tender side of him died to join his mother.
Bucky was a ghost in his own apartment—a place that barely resembled a home as a single sheet lay on the floor beside his armchair. He clung to it as his skin welcomed the freezing surface of the wooden floor, hoping that he’d get frozen in time again to stop feeling everything and nothing all at once. His eyes lingered on the chipped ceiling, and every time he tried to recall who he once was, he was immediately back to plummeting to his death on that snowy day. Perhaps it was his mind punishing him for attempting to find the young man he once was.
He couldn’t be that younger soldier from the forties anymore, nor the teenager or little boy who ran around Brooklyn like life could last forever.
Life did go on, but he was still here—physically living, but mentally dying.
His phone was now silenced, its notifications turned off after Becca had tried to text and call him one too many times. He knew he scared her, but maybe that was just meant to be. He was a monster designed to bring terror to all kinds of lives, not judging whether people were innocent or guilty before slicing their throats. According to him, none of them was allowed to breathe.
So, as Bucky continued to check off the names in his notebook, he broke the rules he had once tiptoed around. Hacking vehicles, breaking bones, and spreading nightmares to those he had once assisted as the Winter Soldier became a norm again. Eventually, Dr. Raynor would ask how making amends was going, and he’d just lie as always.
It wasn’t a surprise. He was always a monster and a liar.
And it was the monster who marched towards the gazebo, his boots digging into the familiar trail like he wanted it to perish. He couldn’t hide anymore—to pretend he was this innocent, sweet man that a lovely woman believed him to be. The sun was barely awake, but his head screamed with all the memories and hardships he had endured, and he wanted them to shut the fuck up.
He was so fucking angry to the point that he didn’t hesitate to walk up the small steps of the gazebo, meeting Wendy’s eyes right as he stopped at the edge of the platform. Although the older woman’s natural instinct to smile immediately kicked in, her lips faltered when she noticed Bucky wasn’t wearing a jacket. Without a word, she stared at his vibranium arm, slowly processing the metal plates that acted as a void to his soul.
And Bucky watched her gaze shift as she saw the real him.
Before she could say anything, he harshly broke the silence. “Are you afraid?”
Wendy looked up instantly, widening her eyes at his burning ones. “What?”
“Tell me. You’re afraid, aren’t you? You must be.”
She didn’t say, and instead carefully stood up with her hands tightening around her handkerchief. “Bucky… Are you alright?”
“Don’t— Don’t do that. You must’ve figured out who I am by now,” he hissed, raising his trembling left arm and clenching his fist. “Everyone knows. It’s easy to find out what I’ve done. They all know, and you must too.”
“Whoa, sweetie—”
“Don’t call me that!” he yelled loud enough to make Wendy flinch, and her eyes went wider at how he began to hyperventilate. “You don’t get to call me that after everything I’ve done! Come on, you must’ve known! Even if I never said anything about it, you must’ve at least felt nervous or scared by me! Look at me!”
But rather than responding, she gazed at him, stunned by how he was quickly spiraling between broken breaths. Once again, she lowered her voice and took a step forward, “Bucky… You’re shaking. Please, just… Have a seat and…take a breath for me.”
Bucky refused, as so many people lost their breath because of him, and he gritted his teeth. “You must be so scared now, huh? To finally know who I am and what I’ve done.”
Wendy’s breath hitched, and she shook her head. “I’m not scared.”
“Bullshit! That’s such fucking bullshit!” he screamed, and Wendy’s shoulders slumped once she noticed the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. “Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not,” she said, her voice never rising or quivering from fear, and she took another step. “There’s no reason for me to be scared of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then maybe you haven’t truly figured out what I am,” he growled, daring to take a step towards her as well. “I’m a murderer.”
“Bucky—”
“And I’ve killed hundreds of people. Hurt thousands of lives with every death I’ve claimed.” His breath hitched painfully, but he continued to lose himself as tears rushed down his face. “I’ve destroyed cities, ruined nations, and ended peace everywhere I go because that’s all I ever do! I hurt, and hurt, and HURT everyone!”
“Sweetie, please,” Wendy tried again, raising her hands in hopes he’d calm down. “You’re not—”
“I’m a villain.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am the Winter Soldier. An assassin for HYDRA.”
“Stop—”
“I’m not the man you think I am. I’m a killer who showed no remorse for anyone! I’ve killed, and only killed!”
“Bucky, that’s—”
“I’m a MONSTER!”
“ENOUGH!”
With a violent intake of air, Wendy stumbled backwards, swiftly covering her mouth with her handkerchief as her body lurched from her coughs. Bucky instantly faltered, his hands twitching at his sides with the urge to help her, but his feet didn’t move. Instead, the rest of his body locked in place with the terror that he would hurt her just like he had hurt everyone else.
The air between them shifted while Wendy’s labored breaths continued to echo, and neither one of them moved any closer to each other. Bucky’s hands then curled into fists, and it was as if a line had formed between them—a boundary that couldn’t be crossed anymore. So he took a nervous step back, his head screaming at him to run, but Wendy cleared her throat and looked up at him before he could, and her eyes softened at his frightened state. Quietly, she lowered her hands, letting them rest on the center of her chest.
And with a gentle breath, she whispered, “You’re not a monster. You’re far from it.”
Bucky’s eyes widened, but not another teardrop fell. Instead, his angered, broken frown returned. “That’s what you think.”
“No. It’s what I know,” Wendy said, her voice cracking and yet still so strong.
“Then you never knew me.”
“I know who you are because you told me yourself.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”
“When we met, you introduced yourself as Bucky,” she calmly explained. “And you sat down with me. Spoke to me like I was someone you were always happy to see, even when we haven’t seen each other in a long time. You are kind.”
“I-I just… No, you don’t understand. I’m…” His breath hitched as he tried to stand his ground. “I am a monster.”
“A monster doesn’t cry for its victims,” she immediately responded, breaking down his walls. “And I can feel all the guilt you carry.”
At that, he couldn’t respond, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Wendy slightly grimaced at how much disgust Bucky saved for himself, and sighed. “You say you’re a monster, but your actions say otherwise. If you really are as heartless as you say you are, then you wouldn’t be here right now. You would’ve hurt me long ago, or never bothered to see me again. You are a good man, Bucky.”
But he shut his eyes as he shook his head, and sharply inhaled a desperate breath. “I’m not, Wendy… I’ve done awful things… I…I did something terrible a long time ago.”
“Whatever it is,” she began to say with a tender tone, “it’s not—”
“I killed my mom.”
The light disappeared, as if a candle had been blown out by a harsh wind. Time froze, as if a blizzard stormed through to turn everything into ice. Wendy went silent, as if Bucky had taken away her breath as well.
Her soft eyes were shot open, locked onto Bucky, who kept his head low, unable to meet her gaze. Suddenly, he became a different man—the pure personification of all the guilt he had carried for everyone but himself. Despite his declarations, all Wendy saw was a soldier who never wanted to be one in the first place. He was a man who only wished he could’ve stayed home with his family. To be a man who never painfully realized that surviving a demise was less merciful than dying.
If he had just stayed home… If he had simply died when he fell off that train… Then his mother would’ve…
“I killed my mom,” Bucky repeated again, barely able to choke out the words. His expression cracked, and his lips began to quiver, and he lifted his eyes to meet her shocked ones. “I didn’t know. I just found out. My sister told me how she died, and I realized…it was me. She was at one of my missions. I did it. I killed her. I…I couldn’t think. I couldn’t— I couldn’t stick around and tell my sister, so I ran. I left her behind again after scaring her and—and I—”
He slammed a hand against his chest, struggling to stop another panic attack from eating him away. Tears threatened to fall again, and he pressed his lips together to prevent any more hiccups from escaping. Wendy watched quietly, never moving a muscle despite the pain she felt from watching Bucky slowly lose himself again.
Who knew how long had passed before she finally exhaled, sending warmth towards him with just her gentle gaze. “Your mother would forgive you,” she whispered.
“No, she wouldn’t,” Bucky said, meeting her eyes again with expressive fear and silent anger. “Don’t say that she would. How could anyone forgive that? My mom… My mother— I killed her. She had so much life left. So many things left to do, and I took that all away.”
But Wendy didn’t falter. Instead, she fought against her own tears and lightly shook her head. “She’d still forgive you.”
“No, she wouldn’t!”
“She—”
“Just— Fucking stop! Don’t act like you know my mom more than me!”
“I’m not trying to…” Her words trailed off, and her shoulders slumped as a storm of emotions surrounded them. With another soft, trembling breath, she put on a determined gaze and whispered, “I’m speaking as a mother…that she would forgive you.”
“You’re wrong. God, you’re so wrong,” Bucky denied her words, his body quivering once again. “Family or not, no one can forgive that! They can’t look past something like that.”
“But she can. She would,” Wendy softly said with a hint of desperation. “She’d know that it wasn’t you.”
“That doesn’t matter!”
“Bucky—”
“No! I killed my mom! My sisters lost their best friend! My father lost the love of his life! They all watched her die, and there was nothing they could do about it. All because I-I poisoned her to death! It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t myself back then… I still hurt my family.”
“And your family knows that you had no choice.”
“Fucking damn it—” Bucky suddenly stomped towards her, and a part of him that hoped she’d see the monster he was and run away. But when she courageously didn’t move, he stopped a few steps short of her. “How would you feel, huh? Would you feel the same if your son had killed you?! Would you forgive him?!”
Wendy’s eyes widened once more, and she took a small step forward. “Don’t—”
“You wouldn’t. You fucking wouldn’t!” he snarled, his anger overwhelming all reasoning in his mind. “I know for a fact that you’d never look at him the same. That if you found out that he killed you—or someone else you love—that you would walk away from him.”
“I—”
“If you found out right now that your son was a murderer, would you still miss him?! Would you still be proud of him?!”
“I’m telling you—”
“If he came back from the dead and came to kill you—”
“James–”
“Would you still love him?!”
“Do NOT speak poorly of my son!”
This time, Bucky stumbled backwards, his heart frozen from the power of her voice. Unlike before, no coughs threatened to break down Wendy’s body as she stood there firmly, heaving through her emotions. Her eyes were filled with motherly rage, disappointed at how someone could bring up her deceased child in this manner. But then, she let out a soft gasp as she realized her tone—the fear and shame in Bucky’s still posture—and slowly straightened up as her tears finally rolled down her face.
Neither one of them spoke. Neither one of them knew what to say at this exact moment.
With immense remorse, Bucky gulped before turning around, his gaze fallen to the gazebo platform and nothing else. He hated this. He hated himself and the way he hurt his friend…but that was all he ever did, right? He hurt, and hurt, and…
What was he doing? Why was he like this? How could he run right up to this kind woman and rip her apart? Dig up her past and throw it around like it was nothing? This was terrible. Horrendous. He was a fucking monster—
“What was your mother’s name?”
Bucky lifted his head up, and though he didn’t turn around to face her, he heard Wendy softly exhale and wipe at her tears, and her voice was once again so calm. “Your mother… Do you remember her name?”
He curled his hands into fists, and he barely managed to say it. “…Winnifred.”
“And do you love her?”
“I do…” His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I love her so much…”
“…Then she loves you too,” she said, her voice wavering.
“No… She…”
“That’s enough,” Wendy softly stopped him. “She loves you, Bucky. Always have, and always will.”
Her footsteps neared, and Bucky stiffened when he felt her hand rest on his left shoulder. Although he still refused to face her, he didn’t flinch away or run. Instead, he felt her squeeze against the vibranium, and for a moment, he felt just how warm she was, despite being the one who always trembled between them.
“Never underestimate a mother’s love for her child,” she said with such certainty that it felt like the absolute truth. “It goes beyond what you’ll ever believe. And…no matter what my son did, I’d give anything to hug him again. I promise you, Bucky, that your mother would’ve wanted the same thing.”
No words formed in Bucky’s throat, but his mind carried her words cautiously, like they were fragile, regardless of how much strength each of them possessed.
Wendy squeezed his shoulder again, and Bucky heard her breath slightly hitch. “And…if you can’t believe that, then believe me when I say that there’s someone out there who needs comfort. Someone who needs her big brother. You know that, don’t you?”
Lowering his head, he gave her a weary nod, and he swore he heard Wendy huff out a sorrowful smile.
“Good,” she quietly said with such relief. “Go on. Get back to Rebecca, and give her a big hug. She’ll need it.”
And she was right. Bucky knew that, but to go back and tell her that he was the one who damaged the core of his family… It was necessary, but there was nothing that could prepare him for it. He just got his sister back, and he knew that telling her the truth would end their relationship for good. She was his only family left—the only sacred bond he had outside of public knowledge—and didn’t want to ruin it.
She’d be so hurt. So scared of her big brother. There was no way that once he told her, Rebecca would…
Rebecca?
“Wait,” Bucky spun around with his eyes shot open, “how did you—”
His eyes shot open at the sight of no one, and he staggered backwards in pure disbelief. Whipping his head around, he tried to locate the older woman, but didn’t find a single silhouette in the area. The sun finally rose, but not even the light could reveal her whereabouts, nor bring him solace in these confusing times.
“What?” he breathed out, continuing to look around. “How… Wait, Wendy!”
Rather than hearing her respond, a train horn echoed in the wind, making Bucky jump and spin around to stare at where the abandoned tracks proceeded to. Compared to before, the sound was less muffled, as if there truly was a train coming towards him.
But this track had been inactive for decades, and there were no other lines nearby.
God… With Wendy disappearing and a random horn going off, maybe Bucky was right in thinking he was going insane. He just got his mind back, and yet was entirely losing it from trying to live as a normal person. He wasn’t normal! He was a mon…
Silently, Bucky turned around and stared at the empty bench, right at the spot where he’d always find Wendy. He allowed a few minutes to pass, partly because he believed she would pop up during his wait. But when she didn’t, he released a heavy sigh and looked down at his left hand, examining how the sunlight reflected off the metal.
With a feeling of horror, he slowly gathered his courage and walked away from the gazebo.
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NEXT PART >
Thanks for reading :)
