A series of one shot chapters about Bucky Barnes mostly told in the first person by different people. Stories will reflect different times in the life of James Buchanan Barnes. This is PG rated and any sexual content will be kept to a minimum.
Mar...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Present Day
I put the Army report from 1945 down and looked with compassion at Bucky. He was looking at his hands, clasping and unclasping them, displaying some anxiety.
"This is Steve's actual report?" I asked. "When he thought you were dead?"
"Yeah," he replied quietly. "My lawyer got copies of everything made from the Army archives when I had to face charges for being the Winter Soldier."
"He was devastated when he thought you died," I noted. "Do you think that's partly why he took so many chances, trying to make up for not saving you?"
Bucky shrugged. "Who knows? I do know that when he recognized me in 2014, he felt tremendous guilt for not going back and looking for me in 1945. Steve told me a lot that wasn't written down in the official reports before he went back."
"He didn't even stay to make sure you were going to be pardoned?"
That must have come across as opinionated because Bucky frowned.
"He had his reasons to leave."
Bucky's tone was defensive, and I could see his jaw was set in a way that indicated he was displeased. Even though we'd only known each other for a few weeks I was already attuned to his moods. His face softened and he took my hand in his.
"June don't mind me," he said softly. "I know I get defensive about Steve leaving. He never felt comfortable in this future. He did ask me to go back but I had changed so much I just didn't think I could handle the 1940s anymore."
"But you could have been with your parents and your sister," I answered. "Instead he left you here alone. When he did go back, why didn't he try to find you and rescue you then?"
I touched his face with my palm then withdrew it when he smiled shyly at me. In the few weeks since we met we had kissed after dates but really hadn't gone any further. Not that we didn't want to but Bucky wanted to take our time until we became intimate.
"I actually did see them, my mother and sister anyway," he said, then took the report from my hands, cleared the pictures from the table, and filed them all back in the box. "But those stories are for another day. As for the other, maybe he did but just wasn't successful."
He picked the box up and put it in his storage room then returned to the couch and sat next to me, turning to his side so he could touch the ends of my hair. Despite his reticence to get physical with me he had no qualms about the little touches, like playing with my hair, putting his arms around me, or holding hands. It was sweet and quite a change from the presumptuous octopus moves of some previous dates.
"Tell me about this party," he said, all of his attention on me.
"Well, it's our staff Christmas party," I said. "It's at a burlesque cabaret with a 1930s-1940s theme. We get to see the show, then they have a private party room we can use. Music will be jazzy 1930s-1950s and they want us in period costume."
