Chapter 22

Trixie

After driving for what felt like far too many hours, and passing landmarks that made her feel uncomfortably close to New Hampshire, James turned Trixie's car on 9W in Upstate New York. Trixie felt a mixture of rising anxiety, being almost two hours and over 100 miles further north than she was this morning, and a peace she only found being in such a natural environment. The highway ran parallel to the Hudson River. James turned the road off the highway and down a long driveway heading towards a building looming four times as wide as it did tall, though it was rather tall as well. It was all around massive and intimidating. He stopped the car and got out, walking right in the door. Trixie scooped up Alpine and followed closely behind him.

"To what do we owe the occasion?" Sam asked with a smile, walking toward the door.

"We need someplace to land," James responded unsmiling, "to lay low for a while."

"What did you do?" Sam's tone changed from friendly to accusatory, "What have you dragged her into?"

"No faith," he retorted. "I haven't done anything...yet. But I'm afraid of what I might do, if..." he trailed off as Trixie slid her hand against his fist. He relaxed at her touch.

"What's going on?" Sam said, looking over at Trixie, now genuinely concerned.

"James had the pleasure of meeting my mother this morning," Trixie said.

James tensed again. "That abusive cow can hardly be called a mother," James said. "She showed up unannounced and my gut says she's coming back. Trixie cut off all contact and she's going to get more drastic as she loses her power over her. If she gets worse...I felt myself begin to lose control this morning. If not for the cat..." James took a breath and tried again, "I can't do something I'll regret. Three weeks, tops, until we find someplace to land that isn't known to her."

Sam nodded. "Follow me."

James unlocked the door to their room at the Avengers compound. Alpine padded in without waiting for her humans to step into the room.

"So, this is home?" Trixie said mildly dejected.

"This is where we land when things get tough and we need to hunker down. This is where, even if she somehow tracks you...blood of the covenant. This is our family, where they won't turn us away. At least they haven't completely turned me away yet." James looked down the hall and saw Sam waiting for him. "I'll be back shortly," he said.

"This is all my fault," Trixie whispered.

"No, it's not," James said, turning back to her. He gently tipped her chin up with the side of his index finger, "Nothing alone." He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'm going to shore up with Sam. I'll be back soon."

James

"I need to make this right," James said as he and Sam turned the corner and walked down to a debriefing room.

"You can't do anything but be there," Sam answered, "You can't wave a wand and fix things. If I had a dollar for every time Steve wished for a magic wand that would just fix things...but you had to do the work. You had to come to the realization on your own. Not without help, but the final belief in your humanity? That was all on you."

James let out a deep breath. "The nightmares are less in frequency and intensity, but I still have the memories. If I have the memories then a part of the Winter Soldier is still in me. I try to ignore it, but it's there. I can't put Trixie in danger. How am I supposed to live a life where I can't protect her?"

"She doesn't need protecting," Sam countered. "She's stronger than you're giving her credit for."

"I can't do nothing," he sighed.

"You're the help this go round," Sam reiterated.

"Is the PTSD group still active?" James asked, "Trix submitted a medical sabbatical and we need the paperwork to justify it."

"Most folks wouldn't so quickly recognize that's what she's dealing with," Sam smiled. "The nuance of what people experience and how they process it. Two people can go through the same battle, but how it gets internalized is different. Some come out unchanged, and some will never be the same." James nodded, knowing the disease all too well as he has worked through it himself for so long. "It's not just physical battles, either," Sam continued, "Older kids who shielded their younger siblings from abuse, while the younger kids sing the praises of their amazing parents. Hell, everyone who...you know..."

"Dusted," James finished.

A girl with a bow and a quiver walked past them. She waved to Sam and looked questioningly at James. "Bucky?" she asked.

James held out his right hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Kate Bishop," she answered, "Hawkeye."

"Nice to see a Hawkeye who could actually hold their own weight," James quipped.

"I like him," Kate smiled at Sam, "Recruit him, please!"

"No thanks," James answered, "We're here seeking sanctuary, not work."

"We'll see about that," she winked at him.

"You're not gonna correct her, Bucky?"

"I think I'm ok with being Bucky in public, and James in private," he said, "Like how you're both Sam and Falcon, depending on who's around."

"We invite community members to a meeting room off the lobby a few days a week. Rhodey leads a group for vets on Thursdays," Sam explained, returning to James's question, "I have a group for those who came back on Tuesdays. Nat does a group for those left behind on Mondays. Scott, of all people, has a catch-all group on Wednesdays. We can start her there, see how it goes."

James nodded.

"I expect you to be at Rhodey's," he said.

James stared back at him.

"That's the cost of room and board," Sam said plainly. "Take it or leave it."

"I don't do therapy," James retorted.

"You just said yourself there may be more Winter locked away. You've got to do the work to help yourself. You're not alone in this, but you can't rely on Trixie to put you back together every time you fall apart. Just like you can't be the one to hold her together. That's not a healthy relationship, that's co-dependence."

James continued to stare at him, hard.

"You know I'm right," Sam added, not backing down, "It's the problem with your friendship with Steve. It was always weighed down on one side. It's why you put him on a pedestal where he never belonged. Steve was a man, a great man, yes, but still just a man."

James sighed, knowing his friendship with Steve was unhealthy and left him feeling empty when he died. "I don't want to make the same mistake twice," he said softly.

"Rhodey's group, Thursdays," Sam repeated.

Trixie

Trixie put her bag on the bed and started to unpack some items to make the military-style dormitory suite feel more homey. She put her current book and her next book on the shelf, as well as James's current and next novels. She took out a few tchotchkes she packed: a statuette of a tiger and an elephant, a framed picture of Grandma Bea, and James's small snow globe from Coney Island, and put them on other parts of the shelf. She hung her favorite tapestry, woven to show a sunset over a wooded mountain. Finally, she pulled out the huge box of incense and the burner.

She paused thinking how much her life had changed in these last few months. Was it really only months? She had never burned incense in her life, and now the best way to feel at home was to have the scent lingering in the air. She thought about journals she read into scent memory and how so many people associated strong scents with either positive of negative memories. A loving household could leave an adult to smell cookies, tomato sauce, or specific spices with positive loving memories. Conversely, a dysfunctional household would leave an adult triggered by those same scents. She pondered if the negative emotions could be reprogrammed with new scents.

Vodka and gin made her stomach turn and she started to shake at their aroma. Sandalwood, however, felt safe. Sandalwood smelled like home. Trixie lit a stick and then sat down on the bed. She looked around the room with a fresh perspective. He's stretching out of his comfort zone for me, she thought, This isn't what he wants either. Trixie's heart fluttered anew.

It had been over a year since she had set eyes on her mom, not since her Grandma's funeral. Since it was almost Christmas, she brought her mom a woven tapestry of the beach. Her mom took one look at the gift still in the bag and tossed it behind her. "I'm guessing you're expecting something in return," she remembered her mom barking. "No?" Trixie had asked. She knew it was a trick question, and she knew there was no right answer. "You stole by body, you stole my youth, and yet it was never enough," came her answer, "You're a parasite, always seeking more." Trixie's breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten about that exchange. She inhaled deeply and allowed herself to focus only on the sandalwood. This is what love smells like.

She stood again and set up a litter box for Sushi in one corner, and put her bed and bowls a few feet away. She then began to move some of their clothing to drawers.