Certainty (A Bucky Barnes Fanfic)

━◦○◦2.6: Ice Cream and Soul Gazing◦○◦━

episode 2 - Star-Spangled Man

So . . . they got ice cream.

Neither Shamara nor Sam talked as they walked to the ice cream place, unsure of what to do. He helped her inside, but the room didn't have air conditioning. So once she ordered, they walked back outside to the shaded side of the building. Shamara sat on the pavement as Sam made his phone calls. Pinching his forehead.

"They have to process him all the way back in New York," Sam heaved a sigh. "Why did he not tell his therapist . . ."

"Maybe he did," Shamara leaned against the brick wall.

Sam lifted his eyebrows at her, "You gonna be okay?"

"Are you?"

He thought for a moment, then sighed, "I'm used to it, Shay."

"That doesn't mean it is nice," Shamara took another bite of her ice cream--raspberry cheesecake.

"Understatement. But I know I could handle myself. I am protected by the Avenger title and my military history. That's more than what most people have."

"It doesn't scare you?"

"It angers me and scares me for the sake of the people in that neighborhood. For my sister and nephews."

"And . . . Isaiah?" Shamara asked more cautiously.

A muscle in Sam's jaw pulsed, "I get why Bucky didn't tell anyone. I get why he didn't tell Steve. I wish he had told me."

"I understand. I would too in your shoes. But I also know how hard it is for Bucky to trust."

"Just because I understand doesn't mean I am not annoyed with him."

"You are usually annoyed with him," Shamara pointed out, eating more of her ice cream.

"He's usually annoying. Like when I have to figure out how to get him out of jail. Again," Sam sat beside her. "He should have trusted me with Isaiah."

"He has now, Sam," Shamara flexed her hand. "Again, I don't blame you for being annoyed. I think you should be, especially because you have been so understanding of how he struggles."

"Why do you say that? I mean, in what way?"

"You don't talk about your own loss with Steve or your own mental health issues because he is stuck in his own."

Sam sighed a laugh, "That's selfishness in part. Bucky can't be helpful. I've been in his shoes, though it was less severe. And until he lets go of his crippling guilt and bitterness, he won't look past himself."

"Sometimes it is looking past ourselves that leads to freedom from guilt and bitterness," Shamara pressed her cold paper bowl against her head.

". . . that's a good point. But he can't do that with me. I have healed too much and have learned how to handle my grief," Sam hesitated, then faced her. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. If I remember my colleague correctly, these pain flashes start short and infrequent but become consuming," Shamara looked at the ground beneath her boots.

"You think these Flag Smashers really have the answer?"

"No. But I hope they will lead me to someone who does. What's our plan?"

"Go back to New York. Hopefully, Torres hasn't left yet. No, don't move. I'll get us a taxi."

They headed back to New York. Torres had left, so Sam tracked down a rental. (There was no hurry. Official stuff would keep Bucky from reaching New York anytime soon.) Shamara drove as Sam hadn't slept. She turned the air conditioning on full blast, hoping her withdrawal symptoms would be kept at bay.