The Man at the Smithsonian

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"A ruddy drop of manly blood
The surging sea outweighs,
The world uncertain comes and goes;
The lover rooted stays.
I fancied he was fled,-
And, after many a year,
Glowed unexhausted kindliness,
Like daily sunrise there.
My careful heart was free again,
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched,
Through thee the rose is red;
All things through thee take nobler form,
And look beyond the earth,
The mill-round of our fate appears
A sun-path in thy worth.
Me too thy nobleness had taught
To master my despair;
The fountains of my hidden life
Are through thy friendship fair."- "Friendship" by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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It's been two months now that Bucky has been living with me. Two months. In two months he has said seven words to me. Three being "no" and the rest on the spectrum from "maybe" to "probably." His communication is very limited to me. We never talk. Every question I have asked him so far results with a small nod of the head or an unsatisfactory groan. But that's Bucky. And I'm not going to stop Bucky from being Bucky. I'm the only shelter and love he has. More shelter than love. But still... He deserves it...

I met him at the Smithsonian. It was a rainy and damp Tuesday. In my opinion, Tuesdays are worse than Mondays. They're unsatisfying and only a pain. But I was there there on a Tuesday. My moral compass may have not been working, I don't know; but I still went there. I'm fascinated with science, and I went for my own pleasure to view the fossils. Yes of course only me and a few civilians were there. It was a school day, and besides; kids of today have phones and IM and texting and hoozamawats. But from the corner of my eye, I saw a man in a dark fleece jacket and baseball cap sulking as he saw the Captain America exhibit. The voice of the monitor that gave the audio tour was chirping away as I walked to him that first day. My feet had their own mind and just decided "Let's annoy and bother this perfectly normal looking human whom we hope really isn't a mass murderer or wanted," but still I walked on. And on. And on.
And after what finally felt like so many hours (though it was 38 steps) I reached him. I gave his shoulder a light tap and he spun my way. His eyes alert and ready to attack. As if he's been..... Wired to attack. He looked at me and sighed. After a solid half-an-hour of intense staring, I asked him his name.
He slowly responded with a shudder and said Bucky. As if he was unsure he was Bucky. Or he wanted to believe he was Bucky.
Ever since that day, I made it my job to help him believe he was Bucky. He seemed so broken. And I don't want him to be broken or wired or conditioned. He deserves freedom and happiness. And it can take two YEARS, but when he's open to talk to me... I'll be here.

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