Chapter Text
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
James 'Bucky' Barnes was on his way home from the subway station closest to his place, hands buried deep in the pockets of his warm winter coat, his collar turned up against the cold wind blowing up from the East River.
There was still snow on the ground from the blizzard last week but it had been gathered into piles along the edge of the sidewalk days ago and the once beautiful white mounds of snow now presented in an ugly dark grey.
Other than that one heavy snowfall it was a wet and unpleasant January this year in New York. Mostly rainy, just above freezing, a damp cold that crept up on you, seemingly penetrating clothing and that would chill you to the bone.
Not that he wasn't used to the cold. He had his share of bitter cold winters. But the cold in Siberia was different. Dry. Crisp. Easier to bear.
But that wasn't something he wanted to remember now. Or ever for that matter.
Shaking his head angrily he tried to force his mind to focus on where he was now. The streets of Brooklyn New York, the black pavement, the yellow and red brick buildings with the grand looking front steps, the trees that lined the roads. The place where he grew up.
Somebody had recognized him today when he had taken one of his many walks.
It thankfully didn't happen a lot. Unlike Sam's face his wasn't plastered all over the media all the time and enough time had passed since the incident with the flagsmashers at the GRC and since the video of him in the bar in Madripoor went viral all over the internet. His name and picture had mostly disappeared from the media. With his vibranium arm hidden in a jacket and a glove nobody seemed to recognize him.
Until today, when he tried to reach for the hot coffee he had just bought from a street vendor a kid caught a glimpse of his arm in the gap between his sleeve and glove.
"Dude! This is the Winter Soldier!"
With that outcry the boy pointed at him with his hand outstretched and everyone turned to look at him.
Bucky saw them staring, exchanging looks, heard them whisper to one another, one mother pulled her children away from him behind some other people.
He noticed someone pulling out a cellphone to film him and then another person. That's when Bucky decided to hightail it out of there. He turned around brusquely, shoved his way past the coffee cart and a bystander, dropping his coffee cup on the ground in the process and put on a spurt down the block.
Almost running he turned the street corner and only slowed down when he was sure whoever might have followed him would have lost him in the crowd.
Breathing heavily he turned a corner into a small alley between two buildings and leaned against the brick wall, trying to catch his breath, his mind racing and his hands shaking. It took him several minutes before he had calmed down enough to rejoin the pedestrian traffic and continue his walk.
The incident had rattled him more than he wanted to admit - or than he thought it would for that matter and he didn't even quite understand why. Even now a good while later he still felt kinda out of sorts.
He wasn't sure how long he had walked when he finally arrived at his apartment building. He didn't remember which route he took home this time. Sometimes, like today, when he was lost in his thoughts he found himself still doing that, taking a different route home. It was something he had learned as an assassin for HYDRA. Never take the same route twice in a row, never fall into a habit, never be predictable. It was hard to shake that even though he tried to make a conscious effort to.
He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the heavy glass door to the lobby of his building.
The air in here was warm but stale and smelled of the cleaning detergents the janitor used to clean the salt off the linoleum floor. In its heyday the building had probably been stunning. The brick exterior still showed a glimpse of its former glory, even though now it was blackened by pollution. The high ceiling in the lobby still wore the painted stucco details, the colorful designs though now faded and the granite walls, once polished and shimmering in the light, had dulled over the years.
Bucky checked his mailbox but it was empty, like it was most days. He didn't get a lot of mail. His bills and sometimes a letter from his probation officer or the VA but that was it.
After stopping by the wall with the rows of mailboxes with their old fashioned brass doors he crossed the lobby toward the elevators. He didn't like elevators particularly not the on in this building. He always felt trapped in them and this one especially had a tendency to make these creaking, rattling noises that definitely didn't help him feel less anxious about using them.
He rounded the corner to take the stairs up to his floor.
The hallway looked bare. Light grey walls with the scuff marks of decades all over them, granite optic linoleum floors and ceiling lights that made everything look a little too cold.
His new place wasn't big or particularly cozy either. He had a main room with a small kitchenette and a large window looking out on the street and a small bedroom off of that room with a small attached bathroom. He didn't own a lot of furniture still. A worn out couch that had come with the lease, a table with two chairs, a TV and a single bookshelf that was still as empty as it had been the day he moved in was all.
Hid bedroom was even worse, he didn't even own a bed. He slept on the floor still with just a few blankets.
He dropped his keys on the table and hung his coat over the back of one of the chairs after kicking of his shoes by the front door.
Turning the TV on for some background noise he walked over to the couch and settled into the soft cushions. He was exhausted. Not so much physically as mentally.
He tried to focus on whatever was on TV but after a few moments he gave up. With a sigh he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and staring at the greying popcorn ceiling.
The sound of his cellphone ringing made him jolt up and he pulled out the old fashioned flip phone. It was Sam.
"Hey" he answered the phone and Sam's cheerful voice replied from the other end.
"Hey man, just checking in with you - see how things are going."
Bucky rubbed his hand over his forehead. Sam sure did have the uncanny ability to sense when something was going on and to call him right then.
"Ah you know - January in Brooklyn." he answered, trying to sound jovial but his voice betrayed him. On the other end of the line he could practically hear Sam detect it.
"You alright?" Bucky let out a deep sigh.
"Yeah - yeah," he mumbled evasively. He really didn't feel up for a impromptu therapy session with Captain America. But he knew the other man well enough to know he wouldn't let him off the hook. So he gathered himself for a few moments and then told Sam about the episode earlier. After he finished he heard Sam take a deep breath.
"I get it, man, I get it." Sam asserted, "but here's the thing. You can't control what other people think. You can only control who you are and how things affect YOU. When are you seeing your therapist next?"
"I'm not going there anymore." Bucky confessed. "The court doesn't require me to go any longer and I did what you said about giving people closure."
"No. No, no, no", he heard Sam chuckle and then add firmly. "That isn't how this works, man. You don't just work off your little checklist and are good. That was just the beginning. After that you start working on YOURSELF."
Bucky didn't reply immediately so Sam continued after a brief pause.
"Look, I get it. Therapy sucks. But I really think you should go back. If you want a different therapist, I can try and pull some strings with my guys from the VA and get you in with someone else."
Then he heard the voices of Sam's sister nephews in the background and Sarah calling Sam's name. Hearing their voices made him smile. He heard Sam reply, muffled by probably his hand over the microphone before Sam returned to the phone call.
"Hey listen, Sarah is calling me, I gotta go. If you want me to pull some strings just send a message okay?"
And with that Sam hung up and Bucky was left with his thoughts, staring at the phone in his hand for a few minutes.
When he finally snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket he tried focusing on something other than the idea of going back to therapy but he found his thoughts going back to Sam's words on and off throughout the rest of the day.
The following morning he got up before sunrise. He remembered waking up twice during the night, both times from a dream. Not that this was something new. This was his normal still. Even though his nightmares had gotten better he still had them more nights than not.
He angrily threw the blanket on the chair next to the spot where he slept and got up. Maybe a run would help clear his mind.
A few minutes later he closed his apartment door behind him. He was dressed in his running gear and on of it a warm grey sweater and a black knit hat to keep warm.
At first the running gear of this century felt weird to him. The lightweight shoes, the materials of the shirts - it all was vastly different from what he had back in basic training before he went off to war. But he had gotten used to it by now.
While locking his door with his key he was suddenly startled by a loud bang ringing through the hallway from close behind him and he instinctively spun around, ready to fight. He only became aware that he had his hands up in front of his chest, ready to take on any attacker after he realized that it was just his neighbor from down the hall that had just left her own apartment and must have accidentally slammed her door. Letting out a sigh Bucky relaxed his arms, thankful that nobody had seen him overreact like this. The petite young woman with the long dark ponytail posed no threat.
At second glance he saw the two heavy looking duffel bags next to her on the floor while she locked her door. As she tried to pick them up she noticed Bucky.
"Morning!" She greeted him cheerfully and let out a soft groan as she lifted one of the bags and tried to put the strap over her shoulder.
Bucky finally snapped out of his trance.
"Hey - you - you want help with that?" He more mumbled than asked gesturing vaguely at the bags.
She seemed confused by his question as if she hadn't quite understood what he had said and replied with a "Hm?"
"Your bags..." Bucky clarified, louder this time, "They look heavy. Do you want some help carrying them?"
She still looked surprised but then she smiled at him and nodded.
"Yes. That would be great."
Without hesitating Bucky slipped his keys in the pocket of his sweater and walked over to his neighbors door. He took the one bag from her, shouldered the strap and then bent down to pick up the other bag without much effort. He didn't notice the astonished look she gave him when she watched him lift both bags with such ease.
"So you are the new guy in 3C, huh?" She remarked while they made their way to the elevators. She pushed the call button and then turned to him. "I am June by the way."
Bucky set down the duffel bag he carried in his right and shook the hand that she extended towards him.
"Bucky", he introduced himself.
"Bucky", she repeated, giving him a sheepish look, the curiosity in her voice only barely concealed. For a moment he thought she recognized him too, like the kids yesterday and he waited for the same reaction he received the day before. Fear in her eyes her increasing the distance between them but she just stood there with a questioning look in her eyes.
"You named after your grandfather or something?" She asked, hinting at his old fashioned nickname. The range of emotions that played out on his face very much confusing her. Her question interrupted his train of thought, bringing him back to the present.
"Something like that", he replied vaguely. She raised her eyebrows at the tight lipped response. She could take a hint.
"Right." She murmured to herself.
The Bell announced the arrival of the elevator and Bucky - grateful for the interruption of the awkward situation - picked up the bag again and entered the elevator after June, trying not to think about how much he disliked small enclosed spaces. For a few moments the awkward silence persisted. Then June tried to initiate a conversation again.
"It's not far, I parked my car just out front. I hope they are not to heavy?"
"No. It's fine" he assured her. He didn't mean to be tight lipped or sound standoffish. But all he could think about was how much he hated this damn elevator. He should have taken the damn stairs.
She glanced up at him from the side and eyed the tall, tight lipped man with the brooding expression, his clenched jaws and the gaze from his blue eyes that was fixed on the floor indicator above the door like he could will it to move faster.
After what felt like an eternity to Bucky the elevator stopped and the doors rumbled open. Not exactly a trustworthy noise that made Bucky feel better about future trips.
He followed June through the lobby to the entrance. She pushed the heavy door open and held it for him to step out on the sidewalk into the hazy light of dawn. The morning chill stung his face and when he exhaled he could see his breath. Frost had fogged up the windows of the cars parked along the side of the street and glistened in the yellow light of the streetlamps.
"This one is mine" June pointed down the street at an older, dark blue sedan parked a few yards down the road. The brake lights blinked twice as she used the remote to unlock the car and pop the trunk and Bucky hoisted the two bags into the vehicle.
"Thank you! I really appreciate it. I hope I didn't keep you from anything important!" She asked and slammed the trunk shut, The hinges made an awful creaking noise and something rattled underneath the car. The vehicle probably had seen better days. Bucky shook his head no.
"No. I am just going for a run." He replied tilting his head towards the riverfront where he usually went if he wanted to go on a long run. The parks along the East River bank with their meandering paths were perfect for running.
She nodded slowly, looking up at him as if she expected something else, some reaction, some comment, an attempt at making small talk, but she waited in vain.
"Well," she finally spoke up, "thank you again for your help, I really appreciate it." He nodded and gave her a tight lipped smile.
"Any time," he paused and after a moment added "and if you need any more help - let me know."
"Thank you." She replied with a warm smile. "I will see you around then."
Bucky nodded and stepped back up onto the sidewalk. He smiled again awkwardly and then turned and started jogging towards the end of the block.
She watched him for a moment, still slightly befuddled by the odd encounter with her strangely withdrawn neighbor.
"Enjoy your run!" She then called after him. Bucky heard her melodic voice over the sounds of the waking up city and raised his arm to wave at her in response before he turned the corner at the end of the block and picked up the pace with a smile on his face.