The Story Book

Cont... It was late when James finally got back to his apartment. Sam and him had spent the day getting to know each other. The man was a stand-up guy and had a wicked sense of humor. James had told stories he hadn't told since his Commando days and they had both just about died laughing tears of happiness rolling down their faces. Sam had had some pretty good ones too. His wingman reminded James a lot of Steve. The day had been good though filled with moments of guilt and sadness it had been a good time.  James still hadn't slept and right now that was all that was on his mind. He'd dumped his gear and showered earlier that day and now his bed though still too soft sounded wonderful. The young nurse smiled as she came out of her apartment next to his holding her laundry, "Evening James." He nodded with a smile, "Evening Sharon." She bumped up her basket and turned to go. "Hey," James didn't know what made him stop her. All ...

Cont... James was exhausted. Between beating the crap out of Batroc last night sleeping maybe two hours on the flight back and then getting into an argument with Fury only to be shown one of the biggest armadas of firepower he'd ever seen all he wanted to do was collapse but deep down he just wanted someone to talk to. Natasha as much as she was trying to reach out to him was off the board so he went to the one place he never in a million years would have gone, the D.C. Veterans Assistance building. He caught the last of Sam’s class that they all brought stuff back. He was right, very, very right. James pushed the thought away as Sam came over, "Well look who it is, the running man." James smiled in spite of his mood, "Caught the last of the session, powerful stuff." Sam nodded, dropping the last of his first paperwork onto a desk, "We all are carrying the same things, paranoia, fear, guilt." James saw the look that passed through Sam's...

Cont... His alarm clock hadn't gone off. Granted he always woke up at 6:30 am on the dot due to the Army but he had wanted an extra hour of exercise before he got called in randomly. The Mall was normally empty at this time that was where James headed. He had learned how to use his enhanced body to his advantage over the years and that was why he ran as early as he could. He was fast, like inhuman fast. That attracted attention. He was surprised when he passed another runner, "On your right." The man huffed in response. The sun was lighting the cityscape with a pale morning light when James passed him again, "On your right." "Oh my right, got it." The man mumbled out. The day was fully upon them when James came upon the man again. The black man heard him coming this time, "Don't say it! Don't say it!"  James flew past him grinning, "On your right."  "Come on!" The man wheezed-yelled. James chuckl...

Cont... Someone was talking animatedly far away. He wasn't cold or stiff. James peeled his eyes open and was welcomed with a white ceiling. The uniform was gone and he was clad within SSR issue clothing. He was laying on a bed, not a hard cold metal floor. He was warm as sunlight streamed in. He was alive. Where was he? James focused on the talking, it was a radio playing the Phillies versus Dodgers May 25, 1941 baseball game. Memories flooded back. "This is the stupidest thing you have ever thought of Steve." Bucky hissed as they ducked into the stadium. "Oh come on Buck, live a little. When do we ever get a chance to both get off for a big Dodgers game?" Steve retorted ducking into some empty seats. Bucky grumbled sitting next to him. "You're gonna get us arrested Punk." "Shut up they're up to bat," Steve grumbled back. They did, in fact, get caught and somehow Steve talked the guard not only out of arresting...

Cont... James rose and dressed quietly before leaving the men to sleep. He found what he was looking for one of the few unopened bottles of scotch left. Taking it he found himself a glass and a secluded area. The feeling that Steve would disapprove almost made him stop but the need for that almost bliss of forgetting pushed him on. It was dark when he opened the bottle and by the time Carter found him it was brighter and he could hear the soldiers working.  "I thought you might do this though I would think by now you would be drunk beyond passed out," Peggy said sharply standing over him.  James smirked a bit fingering the empty bottle. He had figured it out as the hours progressed and the bliss he sought kept skipping away. His head was clear and all his senses were straight. The fog and heavy feeling that alcohol brought had never come nor had the drunken forgetfulness. "I apparently can't get drunk." He chuckled amid the sorrow. "He had the sam...