The Grumpy Sunshine Series

The Winter Soldier (Part 1)

Originally Posted: 06/27/2022

"Hello?" Sam emphasizes, though you're clearly not listening to him. He waits for any sort of reaction, for any indication that you're not completely catatonic. He snaps his fingers in front of your face, only eliciting the most menial, microscopic movement. "Hello?"

You slightly jolt at the sound of Sam's voice. "Sorry. What?"

"You miss him," Sam matter-of-factly states.

"Yeah," you admit, your voice constrained with a painful longing that had yet to subside.

"I hate seeing you like this."

"Yeah," you absently repeat.

"You're going to go back on Monday?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to," Sam assures you.

You clear your throat, shaking your head as though that will clear the mental fog of grief. You looked around and you aren't in your usual surroundings. You didn't know how you walked all this way with Sam without ever being present of mind, but here you were, sitting in a pizza place with Sam sitting across from you. Two drinks in front of you. Your hands picking at the vinyl table cover. You shake your head again before speaking, "I don't think I get to decide that."

It didn't matter if you were ready or not, the bereavement was over in a few short days, and you were expected to face the team after such a crushing loss. You weren't sure how that worked out.

After all, it was only six weeks ago that you were handed his dogs tags. Then, a few days after that, a folded up flag and a medal for his service. As if any of that made up for it.

"No," Sam remorsefully concedes. "But I don't think anyone would hold it against you if you weren't ready."

"I'm not the only person who's lost someone."

"That doesn't matter."

"We should get going," you announce, your hands smoothing over the wrinkles in the tablecloth.

"We haven't even ordered yet," Sam lightly reminds you.

"Right," you exhale, a slight humor in your tone.

"In a hurry to get back home?" he gently jokes, very slightly pushing the boundary to momentarily coax you out of your grief.

"Well, nothing good ever happens after midnight."

"Oh my God," Sam dramatically groans. "You sound like-"

He falters before the name leaves his mouth. You know what he was going to say, 'You sound like Bucky'.

But then you remember, it shouldn't be that easy to say his name after such a short time. After all, he was a person that a few short weeks ago you swore you couldn't live without. And here you were, living without him. Then you feel immensely guilty for the few feeble laughs that you did manage.

You shouldn't be laughing, walking around New York like you're not absolutely devastated. It was wrong, pretending, continuing living your life - a life you promised to a person that wasn't even here anymore.

You wonder if it would ever stop feeling like a betrayal: allowing your world to turn without him. You wonder if the people walking by can see the devastation that lay dormant in your bones.

It's a little twisted, but you sort of hope they can.

"Yeah," you exhale. "I do."

"I invited Steve," Sam hesitantly states.