Chapter Seven: The Same Mistakes

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Music is "Ashes" by Madi Diaz.

Picture is Grant Barnes.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: The Same Mistakes

After we get back from a walk down memory lane, it's almost sundown. To clear his head, Steve heads to the nearest gym in downtown Brooklyn. Having a similar train of thought, Grant and I put on some running clothes and jog around the block surrounding our Manhattan apartment. It's something I do often to clear my own mind, and every now and then Grant tags along. He prefers to be in a library or museum, but sometimes he attempts to follow my speed.

For me, running is therapy. When the air rushes in and out of my lungs, every fiber of my body on fire, I feel as if I finally might outrun my past. Good and bad, the memories haunt my every waking, and sleeping, moment. So I keep pushing myself, throwing myself into harms way to help someone else. I can't die. I know that now. Why not do some good with it?

"Slow down!" Grant shouts, slowing to a stop behind me. He places his hands on his knees, bracing himself. "Not everyone is a super soldier!"

I chuckle, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Grant nods with heavy breathing. "I hate exercise. I hate it."

"I used to as well," I reply. "But then I got faster. Now I feel like I'm flying whenever I run."

We start to jog again, slower this time, side by side. We weave through the busy streets of Manhattan, seeing the large skyscrapers pierce into the sky. We even spot Stark Tower from the ground. "So are we gonna ignore the fact that you woke up screaming and in a cold sweat last night?" Grant asks, tearing my eyes away from the big, ugly building. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Bucky again?"

I turn my attention to the path ahead. "It's always either Bucky, Steve, or Germany. Always those three."

"So was it Bucky last night?" he presses, sensing my hesitation.

I nod. "Yes. It was a memory at first, a good and happy one. It was Rose and Dum Dum's wedding. I had finished dancing with Peggy. She cheered me up, gave me a pep talk. When I turned around, everything faded to grey. Bucky..."

We cross the street, heading back towards the apartment. "You can tell me, Mom," Grant insists in a gentle voice. "I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to protect me."

I give him a thankful look and a small smile. "I know, darling, but it was only more of the same. My subconscious mind telling me that I left him to die. I could have survived the fall."

"Your nightmares used to scare me so much when I was little," Grant says a few minutes later. "I was only a few years old when I came to live with you. For a long time, you would lock your door a night and scream in your sleep. I remember being so scared that someone was hurting you. I remember thinking I'd lose you like I lost my parents."

"Oh, Grant," I sigh sadly.

"I remember the first night I saw you have a night terror," he continues. "I was six. I think you forgot to lock your door, so when the screaming started, I went into your room. I saw you thrashing around, sweating, screaming and crying in pain. I ran to your bed, jumped on, and started shaking you. I screamed, 'Momma, Momma, wake up!'"

"I remember."

"When you finally did, you hugged me to your chest and cries for what seemed like hours. I remember being scared, but I knew everything would be okay because you were awake. I knew from then on that I would come every time you had a nightmare. I would protect you from your dreams."

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