My Dearest James

5

As soon as you stepped out of the truck, you spotted a familiar mop of dark, curly hair. "Uncle Bruce?"

He whipped around, grinning widely at your approaching figure. "Hey! Wow, look at you!" he gushed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "What are you doing here?"

"We heard about the new guy," you chuckled, nodding toward the dig site where the search was ongoing for other hominids. "Dad was hoping-"

"We could get the first, in depth look at him for our magazine," Tony interrupted. He hugged Bruce, then stepped aside to allow Pepper to greet him as well. "I hoped you'd be in charge here, and since I'm one of your oldest friends..."

"You thought I'd just let you come in and make yourself at home?"

"Yes," he grinned, causing you and your mother to shake your heads in mock disapproval.

Bruce sighed, but gestured for you to follow him to the tent where the new discovery currently resided. Your mother quickly began a sketch, while your father continued his conversation with Bruce. You pulled your camera out and approached the table with all the pieces laid out.

"Need me to move?"

You looked up and met the eyes of a man at the far end of the table. He held a small bone in hand, appearing to have been measuring it. It took you by surprise, as few people were so accommodating. Usually they were annoyed whenever asked to do anything because of a photo.

"No, you're fine. Thanks."

He nodded, and returned his attention to the bone. Your parents would deal with him or whoever else when they took their photos. After all, theirs would be the ones printed in the magazine for this story. You only wanted some for your own memories and your journal to James.

After shooting the photos you wanted, including some of the camp, the fatigue of travel caught up with you and Bruce offered his tent for you to rest. You took your pack from Jarvis, and quickly changed into something more comfortable before settling into Bruce's cot for a nap.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

He'd thought about it, on and off, for years, but he could never bring himself to ask. As soon as his birthday rolled around, he found himself desperate for it. He was both heartbroken and elated as he read about what you'd been up to the past year, and every year it was too much. Finishing the book always left him feeling lonely; abandoned. He always asked himself the same question: why didn't you come back?

And now Nat knew. Well, not everything, but enough. And it wasn't fair to her.

Bucky parked his car, taking a deep breath before approaching the front door of the home he grew up in. He'd made up his mind. After all these years, he was finally going to do it.

He knocked, ignoring the part of himself that wished no one was home, and hid his disappointment when a familiar blonde answered.

"Hey, Bucky!"

"Hello, Sharon," he greeted, leaning in for a cheek kiss. "Welcome home."

She stepped aside, allowing him entry. "Thank you. So what brings you?"

"Oh, I uh, need to talk to Steve. Is he here?"

"In his office."

"Perfect." Bucky began to cross the living room, turning back toward Sharon as he reached the hallway. "Dinner still on this weekend?"

"Yep!"

He nodded, and headed toward the office. He knocked, but didn't wait for an invitation before he was stepping inside.