• If I could turn back time •

2. James Buchanan Barnes

"Your name is James... Buchanan... Barnes..."
———

I spent the night sleeping next to an iron grate that was embedded in the sidewalk, my backpack cradled tightly against my chest. The grate provided a source of heat for those unfortunate souls who were forced to live on the streets. It would pump out warm air all night long and shut off upon daybreak, leaving its occupants at the mercy of the frigid morning air. Most grates would stay on for 24 hours, but they were further downtown in the nicer parts of the city.

Right now, my priority wasn't the heated grates. It was breakfast. My stomach cramped painfully and growled like an angry dog. I probably hadn't eaten in over 10 hours or so, and whatever I did eat wasn't enough to be considered a decent meal. I couldn't afford much with the pocket change and crumpled bills that I found every now and then. If I was lucky, I had the possibility of finding a five or a ten and using it to buy an actual meal. Today wasn't one of those days, though.

I knew there was a soup kitchen just down the street. I memorized its location so I would remember where it was and ate breakfast there every morning. There were other homeless folks that would also eat there, but I didn't speak to them.

Since it was still pretty early in the morning, there wasn't a lot of people out on the sidewalks. I walked silently by myself, hands shoved in my pockets and head tucked down in the collar of my jacket. The air was particularly frigid this morning, biting mercilessly at every bit of exposed skin on me. I quickened my pace in order to get there faster.

As I walked, I noticed an advertisement for what looked to be a museum. I paused, studying it for a moment. There was a large picture of a man with a star on his chest in the center and a description of an exhibit in the museum underneath it. I leaned in to get a closer look, my heart nearly stopping upon the sight of a familiar name.

Captain America.

'Mission.'

I winced at the word my brain instinctively spat out and shook my head, knowing that was wrong. I knew him. He wasn't my mission anymore. Or was he? It was confusing sometimes.

The man with the star on his chest. Who was he? I couldn't remember his name. Frustrated, I pulled out a journal from my backpack and started scratching down a couple words as a reminder. 'Smithsonian exhibit. Man with a star on his chest. Find out who he is. I think I know him.' I finished writing and shoved the journal in my pocket, taking one last look at the picture before continuing down the sidewalk.

I decided that I'd go there after breakfast. I needed answers.

———

Donning the free baseball cap I was given at the entrance of the museum, I silently wandered through the dimly lit halls. The cap would hopefully help me blend in with the crowd easier and not make me stand out. I stopped at a large map of the museum and studied it, my eyes narrowing as I searched for a particular name. There.

The Captain America Exhibit.

It was just down the hall from where I was at, so I made my way there.

The closer I got, the more people that swarmed the narrow hallways. Laughing children ran to and fro between each display, threatening to trip anyone who tried to squeeze past their oblivious parents. I felt my anxiety bubble up in my chest and forced it down, burying my hands deeper in my pockets. I didn't know it would be this crowded. It was almost too much.