Buzzkill [Winter Soldier]

Chapter 37

Within half an hour, James fell back asleep, the lamp light still glowing. Ruth eventually fell asleep just minutes before dawn and long after all the ice had melted. It was an all-encompassing sleep that felt as if the dreams were so deep she would never wake up. It was wonderful for her body and what she needed, but Ruth couldn't get it through her head that sleeping could be something safe.

Just after the sun rose completely above the horizon, James woke up. He saw Ruth sleeping soundly and decided to let her rest for a while before they had to go outside and scope things out.

Ruth's dreams were mostly nothing. Just staring at a cloudless sky, her mind sleeping just to pass the time. The dream then turned to her sitting underneath the sky on the cool grass looking for a bird to pass or a cloud to float by in the wind. Everything was quiet. Something then caught her eye and she looked down from the sky. It was herself, standing a dozen feet away from her as still as a statue. Ruth looked around her for something else to happen, she was confused. When she tried to speak her voice was faint and crackled. The image of herself standing in front of her held out a gun with the barrel pointed straight at Ruth's head. Ruth couldn't move, as if heat began to swarm around her and tie her legs. The sharp bang of the gun shot seemed to explode Ruth's ear drums, startling her awake and causing her to shout in fright. She glanced quickly around the room, finding James sitting on the floor next to the bed inspecting the brochures that were sitting on the night stand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pausing what he was doing after seeing Ruth's dazed and frightened expression.

Ruth realized she was in reality and took a deep breath, "Yeah." She studied the room some more. "Do I smell...flowers?" She asked James, looking around for something that would match the scent.

"Oh, that's me. I took a shower and that's what the shampoo they have here smells like."

"Ah," Ruth forgot about the shower. A shower would feel nice right about now. "How long was I asleep?"

"I woke up just over an hour ago, so probably not too long."

Ruth's face still burned, making it uncomfortable to even talk. She got up from the couch, grabbed the clothes she needed from her bag, her pistol, and headed for the bathroom. Once she walked inside, Ruth locked the door and set her gun on the counter where she could easily reach it from the shower if she needed to.

As quickly as possible, Ruth turned on the water, washed her hair, washed her body, got out, and put her clothes on. She had to admit to herself that the shower felt very nice after everything that has happened the last few days, it especially helped relieve the pain on her face. But even the 'Lovely Lavender' scented shampoo didn't make her feel any less vulnerable.

After Ruth was dressed, and with the gun still sitting right beside her, she tried using the tiny blowdryer to at least try and dry her hair.

When Ruth went back to the couch to put her boots on, James gave the smallest laugh,

"Now we both smell like a field of flowers."

Ruth smiled and slipped her jacket on.

After James carefully put his jacket on and tied his boots, they both agreed to find the nearest small grocery store or food stand to get something to eat. Just a block away from the motel sat a little farmers market with a couple vendors at their stands selling different fruits and vegetables. They both walked around the stands for something that looked good. To Ruth, anything that wasn't potatoes looked amazing. She glanced over to her left and saw James looking at different apples and pears. Only then did she realize he had gloves over his hands to hide his metal one. Ruth walked over to him and looked at his options.

"Go with the plums," she whispered to him. "They'll help with your memory."

James crinkled his nose, "Plums?"

"Oh come on, we have them everywhere in Sweden. They're good."

James gave a dramatic sigh and bought some plums.

Ruth also grabbed a couple of apples, a couple of pears, and some vegetables that would hopefully last the day.

Startled, Ruth instinctively put her hand on the pistol at her hip when something ran up and nudged her. James reacted the same way when he saw the figure running straight for Ruth, but eased up when he saw it was just a Golden Retriever. Ruth breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down to get the dog's leash when an older woman came jogging over.

"I am so sorry! He slipped away from me, did he hurt you?" The woman asked. She was shorter than Ruth, but didn't look frail in the slightest, even at her age.

"No, he just nudged me, that's all." Ruth faked a smile to make the lady feel better, her heart still racing.

"Oh good," the lady replied, grabbing the leash.

Ruth then noticed that the lady gawked at the scars on her arms. Ruth had forgotten that she rolled up the sleeves on her jacket as it got warmer. They weren't even just the scars from the injections, they were scars dashed around her forearms and wrists from different instances in Sweden.

"Good heavens, child. Where did you get those scars?" The lady asked, with a voice full of concern.

Ruth couldn't think of what to say, "Shrapnel." She blurted out, "From um, you know...explosions." Her voice trailed off. Ruth tried to give a small laugh, hoping the woman would drop it and not ask about the explosions. But the woman didn't giggle back and ignore the comment, or even smile.

The lady pulled up her sweater sleeve and showed Ruth her own left arm. Severe scarring covered her forearm, the skin that covered where the once-severe wounds were, looked frail. "War sure is hell, isn't it?" The lady remarked to Ruth.

Ruth wasn't sure what to say, "Yeah..." she mumbled, her gaze going from the scars to the woman's eyes.

"You look young, are you currently serving?" The lady asked Ruth.

Ruth felt speechless, guilt and grief making her chest feel tight and hard to breathe. "No. I'm not that brave anymore."

Both James and Ruth walked back to the motel to eat as much as they could until they were full. Not to Ruth's surprise, James liked the plums.

For Ruth, it was hard to eat. She was incredibly hungry, but her stomach was still in knots from the run in with the older lady earlier. Just the interaction with someone new startled her, much less talking to a stranger about scars. Regret filled Ruth, her chest tightened and she tried to stomach the apple she was eating. As if it were triggered, her hands started to shake. Ruth cursed under her breath because she knew what it meant; voices.

"So there is a place I found in the brochures that I think we should go," James started.

Ruth tried to look at him while he talked, even though her head was swimming. His talking helped quiet the voices.

"It could give me, or even us, some answers. It's pretty close to downtown, but I think we'll be ok."

"Good." Ruth kneaded her hands together, "Where are we going?"

"The Smithsonian. They have an exhibit for Captain America."

Ruth looked up at James' eyes, they showed a glint of hope, a memory.

"That's who he is, right? Steve?" James doubted his memories, it was hard to say something and feel certain.

"Yes." Ruth felt a happiness and eagerness well up inside her.

"And who am I...again?"

The voices disappeared from Ruth's mind, "Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes."