Chapter Text
His door is open, and so is Beccas, so Bucky hears her when she picks up the phone.
“Hi Jo! Yeah, I’m good….oh, yeah Bucky’s okay too.”
He misses his friends, but he doesn’t want to see them, he doesn’t want them to see him, he’s perfectly fine with Becca telling them small bits of information. Just the basic vague stuff.
“…Well…I honestly don’t know, Jo. He’s just- different. I Mean he’s still Bucky- Yeah I guess that’s kind of confusing, he doesn’t really want me to say much, though… of course he still wants to be friends! He misses you guys. Yes, Jo, I know he misses you…I guess. I just mean different like- well, he doesn’t really have any impulse control.”
Bucky scowls.
“Like, he’ll just say stuff and doesn’t think about it first, and he’ll do things he doesn’t mean to or regret later…um, well, he ripped up a bunch of his comics.
I know! He was so mad at himself after…it’s not his fault. He’s just- he’s still recovering.
Yeah, I know I haven’t told you much. He doesn’t want me to.”
Becca sighs. “Believe me, I’m just as frustrated as you are. Between us, I think he kind of looks like a serial killer. He’s got this scar and-“
Liszt gasps. “Becca! You shouldn’t say that! It’s mean!”
“Lizzy!”
“It’s okay I won’t tell. Can I-“
“Go away, I’m talking to my friend.” The door slams.
Bucky's door bangs open, making him jump.
“Hi Bucky!”
“Hi Lizzy.”
“Are you taking a nap?”
“No. I’m just- I’m just lights to a…a…”
“A book?”
Bucky tries not to sigh. “Yeah.”
“I have a book too! I got it from the library and I'm supposed to read to someone, and Mom is cooking dinner and Maggie is getting in her way, and Dads not home yet, and Becca is busy.” Lizzy takes a breath, the first in her spill of words and climbs onto his bed. “Can I read to you?”
“Yeah.”
Bucky sits up and he leans against the wall. He holds out his arm and Lizzy snuggles into his side.
She reads to him for a bit, before she gets stuck in a word.
“What’s this word?”
“I don’t k-know.”
“Oh. Right. Do you miss reading?”
“Just real r-read the story.”
“Okay. Um…it’s like stupid at the beginning but it’s not stupid.”
“Stu…stupid- stup…stupen…” He knows the word he’s trying to say, but he just can’t say it. Stupid, stupid brain.
“Stupendous! Yes! I think that’s it.”
Lizzy continues on reading.
“Hey Thunder Buddies! Time for dinner!” His dad calls up the stairs.
“Coming!” Lizzy shouts. “Come on Bucky!”
Lizzy takes his hand and they leave the room. Lizzy hops down the stairs, pulling Bucky along with her.
Even though Bucky knows how to get around the house on his own, it’s nice to have someone with him. He feels less alone.
Lizzy lets go. “Daddy! You’re home late!”
“Lizzy Bug! I got caught up talking to someone at work,”George says. “Go wash your hands.”
“I’ve alweady washed mine!” Maggie says.
“Good job, Maggie. Hi Bucky.”
“Hey.”
His dad puts an arm around him, Bucky hugs him back and finds that his dad is holding Maggie.
Maggie giggles and pats Bucky's head. “Hello Bucky.”
Bucky gives a small smile. “Hi Gi.”
Maggie’s hand wanders to the scar on his temple and Bucky pulls away.
“Is the owie better?”
“Yes.”
“How cun it’s dill dere?”
Bucky goes to the sink, washing his hands, not answering the question.
Maggie continues to babble, and Bucky goes to the table, pulling out a chair.
They serve their food, Bucky, with only the minor mishap of getting his fingers in the spaghetti sauce.
Bucky decides he really hates spaghetti as it slips from his fork again and sauce splashes his face.
“Hey mom, can Jo come over after school on Friday?”
“I have to take Lizzy to an appointment at two, but it should be fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Bucky, are you okay having Jo over? I know you’re not ready to see your friends yet,” Winnie asks.
“It’s fine,” he mumbles.
“Becca says you look like a serial killer!” Lizzy blurts.
“Lizzy! I didn’t say that.”
“I hear-rd you,” Bucky says, eyes down. He pushes his food on his plate.
“I didn’t mean your…it’s just your hair and um, facial hair. You look a little-“
“Rebecca,” George says, with a warning in his tone.
“Yeah, I'm going to stop talking now.”
“No, go on, what we-were you go-in to say?”
“It’s nothing,” Becca mumbles.
“It does no-ot s-seem like it is. But I would-ould’nt k-know, do I?”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Becca, Bucky, that’s enough,” Winnie says.
“No r-real-ly, when- wha- do I look like, huh? No o-one will tol- tell me!”
“Well maybe if you’d actually stop treating us like crap we’d want to talk to you instead of behind your back. Not that we have to talk behind you anyway, we just have to be real quiet.”
The chair squeals against the floor when Bucky stands.
“Bucky I’m sorry I didn’t-“
“Sh-ut up!”
He storms from the room, but clips his shoulder on the doorway. He swears and kicks the wall then leaves.
Maggie starts crying. “Mama, Bucky’s scary.”
“He said a bad word!” Lizzy shouts.
Becca drops her fork and quietly leaves the room.
“Becca, leave him be,” Winnie says.
“I’m not going to bother him,” Becca snaps.
The kitchen falls quiet after Becca leaves the room, except for Maggie’s sniffling as Winnie holds her.
“Go finish your dinner,” Winnie tells her. “You too Lizzy.”
Lizzy pushes her plate away and rests her chin in her hands. “I’m not hungry.”
Winnie and George share a look.
“Put it in the fridge for later then.”
“I’m not hungry either,” Maggie says.
Winnie sighs. “Alright, put your food in the fridge and you can go play.”
Lizzy and Maggie quickly leave the room, unusually quiet.
George and Winnie stand and clear the table in silence.
“What do we do, Winnie?” George asks, handing her a dish to dry.
“They’re not mad at eachother. I don’t think Becca is mad at all. She doesn’t want to lose him again.”
“Bucky is so angry, Win.”
“…he’s hurt, much more than just physically. He woke up and he was missing five months of his life, and he was only asleep for two of them.”
“He doesn’t know what happened to him,” George says quietly.
Winnie hums.
“You don’t think so?”
“No, I believe he doesn’t know what happened to him. But I also think parts of him remember. I see the fear in his face sometimes. Flinch when there’s a loud noise. He completely zoned out when Maggie slapped Lizzy the other day.”
“He’s hurting so much and there’s nothing we can do to help him,” George whispers.
“We can’t take it away, but surely there are small things we can do.”
They fall quiet again.
“His speech is really improving,” George says, attempting to bring up something more cheery.
“He listens to books almost all the time.”
George leans his hands on the counter and ducks his head. “He can’t read anymore.”
“He can still listen to books.”
“They don’t make audio books for comics.”
Winnie sighs and stops wiping down the counter and hugs her husband.
“He’s figuring it out. We all are.”
“It physically hurts,” George whispers, “watching him struggle so much.”
“I know. It does, it really does.”
They hold each other and Winnie sniffs. “Alright, it’s been forty five minutes. I’m going to go have a talk with Becca.”
George kisses her on the cheek he goes to follow her but stops and grabs a barstool.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help him shave. Small things right?”
“It’s a great start.”
They walk up the stairs together.
George goes to their bedroom at the end of the hall and sets the stool in the bathroom, the heads back out.
George stops in front of Bucky's door and Winnie goes to the door across the hall. She winks at him, and peeks her head in Becca's door.
George takes a deep breath and knocks on Bucky's door.
“Huh!” He calls.
“Can I come in?” George asks.
“Yeah.”
George opens the door and sees Bucky laying on his bed, pulling an earbud out.
“What are you up to?”
“Uh…R- lear- uh…I can’t s-say it.” Bucky holds out his phone.
“Is that Russian?”
“Yeh.”
“Why are you listening to a Russian audiobook?”
”I re…” Bucky sighs and clenches his jaw.
His dad sits on the end of his bed. He shakes his foot. “Come on,” he encourages.
“I re- road-“ Bucky snarls and throws his phone.
“Hey .”
“I don’…ev- I- it-“ Bucky pulls his pillow over his face and screams.
Bucky calms down a few minutes later, but leaves the pillow over his face. He sniffles.
George puts a hand on his shin and squeezes.
“Do I look-ook like a sand…” Bucky stops and takes a deep breath. A sand- a s…a kill-ler?
“No.” George shakes his foot. “You look like a ruffian,” He teases.
Bucky huffs. “I can’t sh-sh…I can’t s-see and my han-ands sh-shake.”
“Alright. Come on.” George pats his leg and stands.
“Where?”
“I’ll do it for you.”
Bucky stutters a phrase in Russian.
“Ah. You’re learning Russian.”
“I know I w-woke up an’ knew so-ome.”
“Perhaps you learned while you were missing
“Don’t ream.”
“It’s pretty cool you’ve retained some of the language though.”
“Yeh.”
“It’s also good exercise for your speech skills.”
“Yep.”
“Come on, we’ll use my bathroom.”
Bucky sighs and stands, following his dad down the hall.
“Watch out,” George says, and Bucky immediately stops while George continues to rummage in a drawer.
“There’s a bar stool from the kitchen in front of you.”
Bucky reaches out and finds it with his fingers, then sits down.
The sink runs and then turns off.
“Ready?”
Bucky nods and feels cold metal on his face.
His embarrassment must show on his face because his dad starts talking.
“You know, I was hit by an IED my second tour, messed up the nerves in my hands for about a month. I couldn’t write, button a shirt, and I sure couldn’t shave. So your mom had to do it for me. It was a blow to my ego.”
Bucky huffs a laugh, the one he uses now, instead of full body laughing.
“Hey, I haven’t always been a humble man. So your Mom had to do it for me, and we’d only been married for a year, and for six of those months I was overseas. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t do it myself, and that my wife had to do it for me.”
“Wha’sshe say?”
“Oh, your mom is something else. She said ‘George,” His dad pitches his voice higher, “You’re an idiot. I’ve seen you fall out of bed and need stitches in your backside on our wedding night. If this is more embarrassing than that was, I’m taking you to the hospital to get your head checked.”
Bucky laughs, truly laughs, and it makes tears prick George’s eyes to hear.
“See, I’ve been your dad for as long as you’ve been alive, I’ve seen you in more embarrassing situations than you remember. This ain’t nothing pal.”
Bucky stops laughing and George continues shaving for him.
“Th-thanks. Did Mom re…real…”
“Yep, she really said that. Though that was back before we had you and your sister and had to clean up our acts, so it was a bit more colorful than that.”
Bucky huffs a laugh again.
George puts a wet rag in Bucky's hands. “Here.”
Bucky wipes his face and George turns the sink on.
“Pa?” Bucky says, using the name he called his dad when he was little.
“Yes Pal?” George says, finishing the routine.
“I love you.”
“I love you too Bucky,” George says, choked up.
“Ev-ven like th-this?”
“Yes, Bucky, even like this. And even when you won’t cut your hair.” George tugs on his son's hair. “Even when you're sad or angry. You're my son. I’ll always love you. Nothing will change that.”
Bucky reaches out and finds his dad, then hugs him.
George wraps his arms around his son.
Bucky pulls away, and for a moment he tricks himself into seeing a shadow where his dad is standing.
Bucky follows his dad out into the bedroom.
“You’re not go-oing to t-try and cut my hair?”
His dad brushes a thumb over the scar starting at his temple and going into his hair. “No. I understand this at least.”
George sits on the bed and pats it, the blanket making a puff sound.
Bucky carefully walks forward until his toes hit the edge of the bed, then sits down.
“My last mission in the army was a success, if you went by whether we completed our objective. But for me, it was my greatest failure. I lost my entire team, some of my closest friends. I made it out, but not without a reminder.”
Bucky hears a rustle of fabric brushing against skin and feels his dad move beside him.
“Can I have your hand?”
Bucky puts his hand palm up on George’s leg.
George takes it and guides it to his side along his ribs.
Bucky's eyes widen when his fingers touch the raised scar. He trails his fingers along it. The scar snakes around his fathers ribs up to just below his heart. Bucky traces it back and finds it wraps around his side dipping down to the middle of his spine. Bucky pulls his hand back and his dad moves again, putting his shirt back on.
“For a while I was really angry. Good men died, men with young families just like me. One of them hadn’t even met his son. And I lived, I wondered why it was me, and not one of them. I hated this scar. It reminded me of my failure to save them, to lead them out. I still hate it, though I’m not angry anymore. It’s what happened and I can’t change it. And that story? It’s a part of me. It makes up an important part of the man I am today. I learned some important lessons about the kind of man I want to be.”
George shifts again and his knee touches Bucky's leg. He puts a hand on his arm.
“Bucky, you can hide your scars, but you cannot hide these parts of yourself. It doesn’t benefit anyone, especially not yourself. If you do not own every part of yourself, you will be walking with nails in your shoes. Only you will feel the pain of never knowing who you are, never knowing what you are capable of. It’s not easy, it’s not even freeing, not at first. But in the long run, you will be confident in life and in your relationships, because you are confident in yourself.”
Bucky gives a quiet sob.
His dad brushes a thumb over his temple. “This is not important.” He taps a finger over Bucky's heart. “This is. Are you going to hide yourself behind walls, behind these hidden scars? Or are you going to take care of your heart, and walk through life accepting that these scars are a part of you?”
Bucky cries and his dad pulls him into his arms.
“It is the hardest thing you will ever do. But it is worth it.”
“How do I do it, Pa?”
Little by little, Pal. You start with telling the people you care about.”
“I can’t,” Bucky whispers.
“Then tell them what you can.”
An hour later Bucky is back in his room, and there’s a knock on the door.
“Bucky? It’s Becca.”
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
“Do wh-what you want.”
The door opens and Becca crosses the room.
“I'm really sorry. I never should have said any of that. I promise I didn’t mean any of it. And I don’t talk about you behind your back.”
“I de…um, it came f-for me. I’ve beena jerk.”
“Maybe a little, but it’s not your fault. I know you’re trying... But I have been kind of a jerk lately. Can I sit with you?”
Bucky nods and scooches over.
Becca lays down beside him.
“They told us you’d never come back,” She whispers after a while. “That you were dead. Then you came back. But then we were told you wouldn’t wake up. And then you did. And I'm so, so glad you did. I missed you so much I…I don’t think I could have gone through life without you….but I’m terrified it’s going to happen again, and that it will be real, and I’ll actually lose you forever,” She says, her voice trembling. Becca sniffs. “You’re my best friend and…and I don’t want to keep starting over again. I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you horribly, and it’s about my feelings not because…”
“I’m bli-ind, Becks, and I have a TBI. I’m dis-iss…” Bucky chuckles deprecatingly. “I'm so m-much I can’t ev- ven say it. You can say.”
“I’m not treating you this way because you’re disabled now,” Becca finishes.
“Thank.”
“Welcomes.”
Bucky huffs a laugh. “Love you stup..st…” He sighs.
“And I love you buckets, Bucket.”
They lay together quietly.
“I actually like your hair. It looks good,” Becca says after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “It’s grow’n on me.”
“Bucky!” Becca laughs.
They laugh together.
Becca knocks his shoulder. “What book are you listening to?”
“Война и мир,” He stutters.
Becca sits up. “What?”
“W-ar and Pin- peace. In Rush- Rush…”
“Since when do you know Russian?”
Bucky shrugs. “Dunno.”
“You just woke up and you knew it?”
“I think…I think I learn-earned a bit. A bit when-“ Bucky sighs. “I can’t…the word?”
“Um, you learned a bit before you woke up?”
“Yeah.”
“While you were missing?” Becca guesses.
“Yes!”
“That’s cool you remember.”
“Yeh.”
Becca sits up and grabs something on the end of the bed, then lays back down. “I brought you something.”
She puts it on his chest and he picks it up.
The smell of printed pages and ink soaked paper is achingly familiar.
“…a…it’s a com-mic book.”
“Yeah. I know it’s not the same, but I could read it to you and describe the pictures?”
Bucky hands her the comic. “Yes. I’d like that.”
Becca smiles.