America's Soldier

Soldier

I decided that I wanted to settle down for a while. I made friends with these Avengers that Nick had gathered, and bought back my old apartment, and tried to live a semi-normal life.

It wasn't easy. During the Battle of New York, I did protect the people in my building. If there is a small mission Nick needs done, I go out and do it.

Otherwise, I've taken a job as a gym trainer to stay in shape and keep in contact with people. Sometimes they recognize me a bit, but I never got the coverage Steve got.

I've grown out my hair a bit.

I've started to go running in the morning, and there's this one dude I see all the time who I'm just a little bit faster than. I've never actually had a real conversation with him, but there's this little happy feeling I get when I see him, and even more of one when I piss him off a little by passing him on his left.

We're friendly.

One day, as I'm cooling off after my run, he comes over to catch his breath.

"Dude, you can fucking run."

"Army training, I guess, and I work at a gym."

"I was air force! Flew for them for two tours. Sam Wilson."

I shake his hand.

"Bucky Barnes."

"I thought I recognized you! You're a legend, man. If you ever wanna make me look cool at the VA, where I work now, be sure to stop by."

I smile and nod. It's not a real smile anymore, more of one a celebrity uses when they've been meeting fans all day, and they're just tired.

"Thanks. It's really my friend who was the legend. I just picked up where he left off. Steve was the hero."

"Nah, man, you did a bunch of cool shit too! You saved New York! That's hero work right there."

"Really, thanks man. I'll be sure to stop by the VA sometime to see where you work. It's nice to finally talk to you."

"You too. See you next run."

I walk off. He seems like a nice guy. I just don't have the energy to be "The Bucky Barnes, replacement Captain America" right now, even if he denies thinking that.

A few days later, I decide to pop into the VA to see what it's like. I really have been meaning to for a while, but Sam has convinced me.

It's a lot quieter than I expected. Even the colors are quiet, browns and tans all around. I smile to the secretary and walk past the front desk down the hall, where I can hear Sam's voice.

He's counseling a group of people on moving on. I hover in the back of the room, listening to what he has to say.

He talked about what we kept from the war and what we left behind. I guess he was separating then from now, and that helped him file some of the war feelings away to a space where he didn't feel them all the time.

Maybe I should try that sometime.

Once he finished, I met him in the hall.

"That was a good speech," I told him, completely honestly. I wasn't sure what else to say, so it was lucky for me that he had a response.

"Thanks. I had to do a lot of recovery after I lost my wingman Riley. Flying a night mission, standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn't done a thousand times before. 'Til an RPG knocked Riley's dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. Like I was up there just to watch. So I decided that after I was done, I'd come here, help others like me get better too."