Lena woke clear headed and lacking memory of what plagued her the night before. As with previous "bad mental health days,", they seemed silly and inconsequential the next morning. She knew she was getting better, that moving forward did not have to be noticeable, nor did it have to even feel like she was moving forward at all, but she was, even just by continuing to exist.
She examined her reflection after prepping for the day, unsure what exactly one wore to a world renowned art museum. Likely to be heavily air conditioned she selected her favorite oversized blazer drown over a bottle green turtleneck and jeans. Perhaps a little too casual she added a long pendant with jagged copper edges a chose a pair of loafers that she thought made her look far more pretentious than she actually was.
Hoping it would not rain on any part of their expedition, she hurried to leave in time to walk to her coffee shop where she was to meet Bucky. Her watch informed her that she was perfectly on time, with minutes to spare even, but upon arrival spotted Bucky leaning against the exterior of the old brick building, two coffees in hand.
"Here you are, half-sweet vanilla latte," he said..
Lena grinned, accepting the steaming drink and inhaling deeply, "Thank you Bucky, you didn't have to."
"I know, but we have a long day of museum touring ahead of us, so I thought we should be fully caffeinated.
"Oh you're drinking coffee too?" Lena said laughing, wishing that caffeine had any effect on her.
"Yes. It doesn't really affect me at all, but I thought I'd give this place a try, since you said it was so good."
"And?"
"Not bad," he said, sipping his drink and haphazardly hailing a cab, "not perfect, but I'm definitely open to it."
"Okay," Lena said, shrugging as she ducked into the cab. He slid in after her, issuing directions to the driver.
"I could have met you there closer," Lena started.
"Yes, but that would take some of the fun out of it, ya know?"
"Taxi rides are fun now?"
"Always,"
"Are you sure you're from New York?" Lena said, squinting at him.
Bucky rolled his eyes and they lapsed into casual banter. By the time they hit the Midtown Tunnel Lena again felt the easy ebb and flow of a friendship forming, evolving into existence. Yet she was still surprised how easy he was to talk to, how despite all the important details of her life that she left out, she could be honest and construct a realistic depiction of herself, one that felt authentic.
The taxi dropped a block from museum and Bucky led the way, but not towards the main entrance as Lena expected.
"Are we too pretentious of art critics today to enter through the main doors?"
Bucky gave her a half smile, "I made us a reservation so we could avoid the main tourists- and security," he said as if it was of high annoyance to him.
Lena shrugged, unbothered by his strange behavior. Everyone has their things, I guess his is just metal detectors.
Upon entering the museum from the side entrance they were greeted by an exuberant attendant who greeted Bucky by name.
"Are you a regular?" Lena asked when he made a face about being addressed formally.
"When I first came back to New York I spent a lot of time visiting places like the Met, the Transit Museum - places that didn't change with the Blip."
"I see," Lena said, knowing that she herself had visited all of the places likely to stay the same in the past half century since she had last resided in the city.
---
"Universal Woman," Lena read the plate below the painting, "Frankly this is not one of Picasso's best."
"That's because," Bucky said leaning over her shoulder to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, "it's not a Picasso."
"What do you mean?" Lena said, shocked.
"There is no Picasso by the name of Universal Woman.
"How can you tell?"
"You can't really, I just know."
"Way to be mysterious."
"This one is an exception,there are many here that are reproductions, copies. This one simply never existed."
"What do you mean?"
"Most of the originals of this type of art live in high end, black market collections," he said, remaining just behind her as she gazed up at the Universal Woman.
When she eventually moved on to continue to wander the museum, he again followed as if he had acute recollection of everything there and was only interested in sharing in her fresh experience.
"How about Warhol's depiction of the Mona Lisa?"
"Not the original."
Lena frowned at him.
"I mean it could be, but, likely not. It would be easy to reproduce something like this one."
They continued their slow parade through the museum, Bucky sharing additional facts that placards did not.
"That Rivera? Kinda ugly, but real?"
"Nope."
"Okay, this Picasso?"
"Probably. Picasso has enough that it's hard to tell."
"But the Universal Woman-"
"That one is an exception."
"I see," Lena said, skeptical and continued their tour.
"A copy. A good copy though," Bucky whispered as they gazed at a Monet of a bridge over a pond.
"At what point does it matter if they're real?" Lena pondered.
"Shouldn't it matter?"
"I mean sure. But really, I'm still just looking at it from a safe distance away. Not enough to really see all that closely."
"Sure but doesn't it matter that you might be being lied to?"
"I've been lied to about much more important things, so I guess this doesn't matter much."
Bucky chuckled without humor, continuing in a low voice "But shouldn't it matter? For the public who has not been so egregiously lied to? What if this is their biggest lie?"
"Why do you even know so much about this?" Lena said, interrupting his questioning.
"I'm ah - a bit of a history buff, I guess you could say."
Soon the Temple of Dendur stood before them, the Reflecting Pool mirroring the room around them. The large glass windows illuminated the scene, adding a detailed texture to everything. Lena felt like she was seeing a color film for the first time, a refreshing breath of air.
"I've always wanted to see this room you know."
"It's always been here."
"I know, I just never had a reason to come. Nor the time."
"Well, just remember I conveniently have passes to a majority of the museums in the city."
"And why is that Mr. Buchanan?"
He winked, "I'm a war hero, remember?"
"No I don't remember."
"Army officer perks? And the coffee shop girl is tagging along?"
"Oh right," Lena said laughing. Apparently Bucky thought the joke was funnier than it actually was and he continued the promenade around the Reflection Pool with a ridiculous grin on his face.
Through the remainder of the museum Lena would question works of art and Bucky would answer with clipped precision on his best guess of the painting.
"Rembrandt?" she asked, gesturing.
"You know, you know quite a good amount of this artwork as well, so I would certainly not discount your own knowledge of these works," Bucky said grinning.
"Thanks, but you did not tell me if this one was real."
"How should I know?" he said, shrugging.
"Bucky! This whole time you've been making these broad accusations of fakes-"
"Yes, because I know those ones are fakes. But who knows with this one? Isn't it like three hundred years old or something?"
"I'm still unsure if you're trying to convince me that every famous piece in here is fake?"
"No, some of them are real," he said nonchalantly, "Van Gogh's Straw Hat self-portrait is probably the original," he said, referencing one they had earlier seen.
"And how would you discern that o wise one?"
"Simple. It's location can be chronologically tracked through history. If it ever got lost, by the time it resurfaced, it was probably a fake. There are certainly some cases where that's not the case but in the second world war everything changed hands so many times..."
"I see..."
"Like," Bucky slowly revolved around the room slowly, "that one!" he said pointing excitedly, "nobody really knows."
Lena's eyes followed his gesture. Her eyes landed on a familiar painting. She walked slowly toward it, the pair of gaunt eyes seeming to look into her soul. Bucky followed, unsuspecting of her trance. Lena gazed up at the painting in disbelief.
"It's called "Jewess with Oranges" I believe, by Aleksander Gierymski" he said with perfect pronunciation.
Lena felt she was no longer standing in the MET with a man who knew too much about history.
Instead she was watching her then husband's father direct as the servants hung the painting in the beautiful Berlin house. Even then the painting had seemed haunting because Lena had known that it had been stolen from Jewish possession, intended to strip them of their wealth, their agency, their stories. The family she had married into was the opposite of what the painting's presence in their home signified: they were running underground relief operations, that was one of the reasons she'd married in. But accepting the painting was just one step of covering their tracks.
"It disappeared in the forties," Bucky was saying, "along with a lot of other work. But this one is said to have resided with a German prominent family, one that apparently did undercover relief work for the Jewish community at the time. It was said to be a gift to them from the Nazi party. And they kept it for many years after. Apparently they chose to return to some semblance of rightful hands a while ago. But since it was gone for so many years no one can really know if this is the original."
Lena stood rooted in front of the painting, memories of passing it every day as the world devolved around her flashing through her memory."
"What was their name?" Lena asked, barely audible, wanting to hear him confirm it, confirm that the life she had lived then existed in somebody's memory other than her own.
"Fleming," Bucky said, and if she'd been looking she would have noticed the way Bucky winced when he said it.
Lena sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. This was the connection to her past that she had been searching for for decades. She had never been able to uncover anything connected to them, but here it was, an inconsequential token of her youth hanging in the back of one of the world's most prominent art galleries.
"I think this one is real," Lena said, smiling up at it, knowing that if the Flemings had retained any say in it, this was in fact the same painting she had seen a million times before.
"Why?" Buck asked, his gaze flickering to the painting.
"It just feels like it. I can't explain it," Lena said, feeling hopeful.
Bucky shrugged his shoulders, "Okay." Lena noticed that now standing so close to the painting he looked uncomfortable, almost like he could feel the gaze of the woman in the painting.
They concluded their promenade of the Met, Bucky continuing to be mysterious with his knowledge of history and how he acquired it.
"Would you care for a quick bite to eat," Bucky asked suddenly as they were nearing the end of their self guided tour.
"Sure?"
"Follow me then, rooftop lunch it is."
"What?"
"There's a restaurant on the roof."
"Isn't that like, I don't know, expensive?"
"Only if you're a civilian."
"We are civilians," Lena deadpanned, internally laughing at the fact that she was anything but a normal civilian.
Bucky laughed, "Yes, but I used to come here regularly, remember? Just take my word for it. Lunch on me."
Lena raised an eyebrow but followed as he led the way. Soon they were directed to the roof, emerging to greenery and open sky. Lena stood in the center of the high balcony, turning in a slow circle to view the New York skyline. She gazed up at the still clear blue sky, the wind tugging at her blonde hair. Lena closed her eyes but tilted her head toward the sunlight. She felt Bucky stop next to her, shoulder just barely touching her own.
"Can we make seeing the New York skyline a regular Tuesday activity?" Lena whispered.
"Only if you agree to look so pleasantly surprised everytime."
Lena smiled, eyes still closed, "I am always pleasantly surprised to find myself in New York doing regular person shit."
He chuckled at her profanity, "I'm glad we can go do regular person shit together. I haven't gotten to do that in a long time."
"Me either Bucky, me either."
-------
a/n:
I. i sort of got the idea for this chapter from a book I recently read called artrage by everett aison in combination with episode 3 of TFATWS so it's loosely based on that...credit where credit is due.
II. apologies that this is sort of a confusing weaving of information to Lena's story. Lena has long existed in my head and has too much backstory for her own good. As such, please do ask questions and i will answer them...and someday post her early life in its entirety