Monster

Twenty-Seven

Dinner went surprisingly well. Steve and Bucky did most of the talking, and Bucky seemed to be making more effort than before. He asked Steve questions, and Steve was eager to answer them. Sometimes Steve told funny stories about the nonsense they got up to as kids, and Bucky would give that almost smile. Though I suspected he didn't always know what Steve was talking about. I was sure Steve saw it too.

When we were cleaning up after dinner, my phone began to ring. Clara's name flashed across the screen, and since I was allowed to be more honest now, I excused myself and took the phone into the living room where (I hoped) they couldn't overhear.

"Hey," I said, sitting down on the couch.

"Okay, what the hell are you doing now?" Clara asked.

"I just finished up dinner. Why?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your new volunteer job. Playing babysitter to the Winter Soldier."

"He's not—that's not who he is anymore. And I'm not his babysitter. I'm just helping."

"Do you have any idea how stupid that is?"

"Excuse me?"

"He's dangerous, Jo. I know everything seems fine and dandy right now, but it doesn't mean it will stay that way."

"I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to make my own decisions. I asked for this job, Clara. It's not like it landed in my lap."

"That's exactly how it happened. You went to pick up your stuff and landed a new job. And this guy latched himself to you, and you're playing mama cat like when we were kids, and you used to bring home weird injured animals."

"I don't think it's any of your business."

"No, it is my business because I'm worried sick about you, and you're going to end up losing your house, at the very least. Not to mention the myriad of other things you could lose. It's my job to make sure you're okay, and you're making it very difficult."

"It's not your job to make sure I'm okay. I'm doing just fine on my own."

"I'm your big sister, and it will always be my job to make sure you're okay. And you always get yourself into situations where your life and mental state are at risk."

"My mental state is just fine."

"For now! And so is his! For now! What about when he snaps and pulls a gun on you? What if he comes after you with that stupid arm of his and tries to choke you to death? Or bashes your head in? What if we can't get to you fast enough, Jo?"

"He's not going to snap. He's doing really well, and he genuinely wants to be a good person. I want to help him. And not because I'm playing mama cat, but because I know what it's like to have to do this alone. And I know nothing will help him better than having someone. He's making progress because he has a support system."

"You've never had to be alone. I've always done whatever I could to be there for you. You were the one who moved to DC instead of staying in Ohio or coming to New York. I offered to let you stay with me. I said I would help you find a job."

"You're right. Why didn't I mooch off my sister and parents instead of getting a job for myself and building my own life? Even if I stayed back in Ohio or went to live with you, I'd still be alone. None of you really knew what I was going through. You didn't have to watch people die. You never had to kill anyone."

"You think I've never watched anyone die? You think I can't be there for you because I don't have PTSD? I don't know if you know this, Jo, but a lot of people died here. And I saw it happen." I sighed and dropped the pillow on my face to block out the light. And also the fact that I wanted to throw my phone at the wall.

"What happened in New York was different. I don't doubt that it was traumatic. But—war is different, Clara. People died BECAUSE of me. I don't think you understand what it's like to take someone's life. And to get home—and barely remember it."

"I just don't know why you constantly try to prove your strength. First with enlisting and then with SHIELD. Now you're babysitting Soviet assassins."

"Don't you dare tell me I'm not strong."

"I never said you weren't. Just that you don't have to prove it."

"Clara—do you know the number one cause of death for former soldiers? It's suicide. So me being here should be enough. I don't have to prove anything, and I don't need your approval or support." Clara was silent for a full minute. Then she sniffed.

"Jo—I'm not saying that you're not strong or that you have to prove anything. I know you're strong. I have always admired that about you. I just can't understand why you keep putting yourself in situations that lead to you getting hurt. I know that you care—way more than normal people do. And I know you think you can help him. But what do you think the outcome is going to be? You think he's going to be normal one day? That the world is just going to forgive and forget? He'll get a nine-to-five and a monogrammed coffee mug? You know he's too far gone to lead a normal life. You haven't gone through half of what he has, and you can't even make it through the night without...."

"Stop," I said. "Just shut up."

"I'm just trying to make you understand, Jo. It's been over five years, and you're not getting any better. You function because you have to. You're miserable. I know you are. And I know that he's not going to be like you. No matter how strong he is. He'll be lucky to be close to where you are in five years. If you want my honest opinion, I think it'll take more than a decade to get to where you are. And that'll still be progress. You can't rewire his brain. You can't expect him not to go unhinged when things go wrong."

"What do you want me to do? To give up on him? You want me to push him away so I can go back to having no purpose in life? I know he's been through worse than me. I don't need a reminder. And I know he's not going to get a boring job and lead a boring life. But I want to do something with meaning again. I'm not meant for that kind of life either. That's why I'm miserable. I just want to help people."

"But you've already done so much," she pleaded.

"No, I haven't. I didn't enlist to prove I was strong. I did it because I wanted to do something with my life. Mom said I'd never do anything beyond motherhood. I just wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to be a doctor. And I messed up."

"You didn't mess up."

"Just let me talk. Yes, I did. I couldn't pull the trigger, and I nearly got killed. I joined SHIELD for the same reason. Because I thought I was doing something important, and now my career is over, I don't even know how I'll keep the lights on. So yeah, maybe it's crazy, and I'm a stubborn mama cat. But I want to do something good for once. And I want to help him. So I'll do it whether you like it or not."

"You're taking care of him," Clara stated. "You're helping him more than you help yourself."

"Helping him is helping me. It's good for everyone. Even if I can't be remembered for being the hero who killed an alien invader with a staple remover, I can at least be the person who brought James Barnes back from the dead."

"You're too stubborn. Just like Dad." Clara sighed. "I just don't want to lose you again."

"You never lost me," I argued.

"Yes, I did. You came home, and you were a different person. I just don't want something to happen to you and have you shut off for good."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not the sister you hoped for. But I'm doing this with or without your approval, and I don't care if it gets me killed. I have to do this. I want to."

"Just don't tell Mom what you're up to. You'll give her a heart attack."

"Oh God, no. I'd never tell her." I took a deep breath and sighed. Clara wasn't arguing anymore, and her voice had gone softer. She was going to give up, and I was glad. But I still wanted to end the conversation. I didn't want Bucky to hear. "I have to go help the super-soldiers clean the kitchen. I'll talk to you later."

I didn't wait for Clara to say goodbye. I ended the call and dropped onto the couch. I put my head in my hands and took four deep breaths. Then I heard the floor creak and the tap of metal along the wall. Bucky was letting me know he was there. When I moved the pillow away, he was standing by the stairs, concern on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I smiled and got back on my feet.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just arguing with my sister, but what else is new?" I replied. His eyebrows creased.

"She doesn't like you spending so much time with me." I shook my head.

"No, it's not that. My family doesn't like anything I do. It's not just you. They've been trying to make me normal and boring my whole life."

"Normal and boring isn't really you." I took another deep breath, studying his face the way he was examining mine.

"You're probably right. Would you like some help with the dishes?" He looked down at the floor as he thought about it, then turned back to me. He had that almost smile again. It was killing me that I hadn't gotten him to smile fully yet.

"I think I can handle it," he said. Then he turned back around to return to the kitchen.

The argument with my sister rattled me, but I tried not to let it get to me. Steve and Bucky were getting along. He was doing better, despite what Clara said. And they both looked happier than I'd seen them the entire time I knew them. Sure, there was still the possibility of imminent danger hanging over us. Or the threat of the Winter Soldier snapping back into place. But even if it happened, I wanted to try and help him back out.

Once Steve finished helping, he collected all his things. I walked him out to his bike. He had nothing but a backpack to hold all the things he'd left at my house. Everything else, he was leaving for Bucky. He looked kind of silly with a backpack on, like an overgrown child riding his bike to school.

"I talked to Stark this morning," he said, stepping off the curb toward the motorcycle. The sun was already down, but the sky was light. The temperature was dropping by the minute. This time of day always made me feel comfortable and safe. It was a good day.

"How fun for you," I replied. He smiled.

"He decided to actually add me to the list of people to call if anything goes wrong. Rhodes isn't always close enough. If you press your panic button, I won't be too far away." I touched the bracelet on my wrist. I'd forgotten its real purpose. I wore it every day and took it off to shower. But otherwise, it was just a piece of jewelry I'd grown used to. Like everything else in my life, once something entered, it just became part of me.

"Thanks, Steve," I said. He nodded and mounted the bike.

"Don't mention it. And uh—thanks. For you know, volunteering to do this. And for everything else you've done. But please—if you need anything at all—just tell me."

"I will. And thanks for sticking up for me against Fury." He smiled and kicked the bike to life. It was loud and echoed throughout the whole neighborhood.

"Don't mention it," he said over the noise.