8-1-0-9

Chpt. 8

I listened to our footsteps as we walked along the pavement, staring down at my feet as the rocks moved by and my jeans ruffled along the tops of my shoes. It was cool out, even in the warm morning sun, though it didn't bother me as I was wearing my sweater and the serum coursing through me warmed my veins. Bucky lead the way as Sam and I trailed behind him, not a word spoken between the three of us since the plane ride.

My fingers twisted the bracelets on the other wrists, spinning them against my skin as the lightness in my mind added a soft hum into the background noise of my thoughts. They had been nicely tucked under my sleeves until I got bored and became hyper-focused on their weight. Neither of the men pestered me about where I went after the events in D.C., something I was grateful for because I still was hesitant about trusting the two of them. Sure, I knew Bucky for the longest time, but I didn't know him. I trusted him as far as the programming went, and that barely had any I influence of what I thought of him. It was still weird looking at him, having an actual name to put to his face. But it suited him. 'James' mostly, but I could also see 'Bucky' fitting him, too. Even his name sounded foreign in my head, unused to it. Made me wonder why the other Flag Smashers kept this information from me.

They had taught me the ins and outs of the world after getting me out of the Raft. They caught me up on various issues and problems of the world prior to the Snap, some things like elections and celebrity deaths, or catastrophic attacks in the early two-thousands that I decided wasn't a good topic to ever bring up around older people. Nico even brought up Captain America, the man practically gushing as he told me about his fascination and adoration for the blonde hero, wishing that he could have such bravery like Steve Rogers. He had the strength, now, that's for sure. I'm sure if I went back to them, I could get him and the others turned around about how they were dealing with the GRC. I was with them, thinking that the Global Repatriation Council was doing nothing for those who had been left behind, but anyone in their right minds would see that this was all going to end up badly.

But Nico never mentioned the best friend of the Star-Spangled Man. And neither did the rest of them.

     "So..." Sam began, lifting my attention from the asphalt beneath my feet. "You still got that voodoo, magic-y air-bending thing going on?" He asked, making a twiddling motion with his fingers at me as we walked.

I had to hold back a chuckle at his childish antics, sighing heavily with a nod instead. The weight of the bracelets was something I had suddenly become too aware of. "Uh, yeah," I mumbled, looking back down at my arms. "Still a weirdo. I don't think that changes over the course of a decade," I deadpanned, taking a deep breath of the morning air. "Decades, I should say."

He emitted a soft hum, the sound of fabric rustling as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "So like, you just move the air or whatever? You do some wacky shit, I know," Sam chuckled a little. "You blew me right off course when we met."

     "Yeah," I huffed, shaking my head. "Quite the meeting." I paused, words forming on my tongue but taking a second to fall out. "For... what it's worth, I'm sorry. About trying to kill you and the other two."

The silence that followed made me glance up, Sam's expression hardened as he stared into Bucky's back, though his gaze was distant. "It's all good now," he spoke quietly. "We're all okay."

Even with his reassurance, I felt the tension seeping off his body in waves that he visibly tried to shake off. Something I said must've brought up a moment that he probably would've liked to have forgotten. The haziness in his dark eyes spoke volumes of such things, and I took it to mind to not push just as he had not pushed me. Though, I did want to know why the Captain America we have now isn't the Captain America I fought.