revised 3/25/19
Marvel and its characters, plots, etc. do not belong to me. However, Ava & Elsa Pierce do belong to me. (Author's Note at End of Chapter)
Chapter 2
2014
The Winter Soldier heaved for breath on the riverbank of the Potomac River. Next to him was the unconscious form of Captain America. Supposedly his friend. According to Captain America – Steve – his name was James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky for short.
Jimmy.
The nickname brought back a flash of sand, seashells, and a little girl with blonde hair. His hand found its way into the pocket of his waistcoat, drawing out shards of a broken shell. "Ava," he muttered.
One last mission.
James got to his feet slowly, his body feeling so damned heavy. "Bucky…" a voice called from the ground beside him. He looked down, seeing the super soldier's eyes half-open. "Don't go." Steve said pleadingly.
James hesitated, looking away. "There's something I must do." he said quietly.
"Let me come with you." Steve requested – still coughing up water from his impromptu dip in the river.
James shook his head. "No. This is something I must do alone." He wasn't sure why he bothered to even answer the man he had been fighting not so long ago. James had had a few flashes of memory – of a small, sickly version of Captain America and other small details. But nothing as solid as his memory of Ava. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last seen her – hell, he didn't even know how old she was now.
All James knew for sure was that he needed to find her. With HYDRA in shambles and her father dead, Ava could be in danger. And he couldn't have that.
He looked down at Steve. "It shouldn't take long." James offered. "And I have a lot of questions that only you can answer." He added. The corners of the Super-soldier's mouth lifted, his eyes fluttering shut. James climbed the riverbank and disappeared into the surrounding woods just as the sirens of approaching authorities drew close.
!
Slender fingers ran down the spine of a book – hesitating, wavering – on the choice of a book. "Aw, shit. Let's just read Wicked again." Ava Pierce muttered, drawing the paperback off her bookshelf. She carried the book over to her bed, tossing it down on her quilt as she crossed the apartment to her bathroom.
Ava shut the door softly, moving to the sink to wash her face. Her cell-phone began to ring in her pocket as she dried her face with a soft cotton towel. She pulled the phone from her pocket, checking the caller ID before answering. "Hi, Mom," Ava greeted, checking her teeth in the mirror.
"Ava, Ava, baby, I need you to come home right now," Elsa ordered.
"Why, Mom? What's wrong?" Ava questioned, standing up straight as she heard the distress in her mother's voice.
"Your father… something's happened – I don't know what – they won't tell me anything! Come home, baby!" Elsa demanded. Ava's stomach gave a heavy lurch – and she searched for breath. "Baby, say something. Please," her mother begged.
"Inhaler!" Ava managed to gasp out, rifling through her medicine cabinet urgently. Her mother voiced her concern as Ava found her inhaler and brought it to her mouth, administering the medicine.
Ava sighed with relief as she was finally able to breathe. "How's your heart? How's your pulse?" Elsa questioned her urgently.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'll pack a bag and be on my way to the airport as soon as I can. I'll call you before I board and when I land." Ava promised, tucking her inhaler into her pocket and turning to leave the bathroom.
Her heart gave a startled pull – she couldn't help but gasp at the sight before her. "Baby?" her mother asked.
"Mom, I'm going to have to call you back." Ava responded before pressing disconnect and slipping the phone back into her pocket. "Jimmy." She said.
The soldier's eyes shifted at her voice. He stood at the table beside her bed, his flesh hand tracing the lid of a jar – holding the seashells and glass beads that they had once buried and unburied together. So long ago if felt like a lifetime. "You're older," he murmured.
"It's been sixteen years, Jimmy." Ava responded simply.
His eyes widened slightly – but he said nothing – looking back at the jarful of trinkets. "Are these your treasures?" he asked.
Ava smiled, crossing the room and sitting on the bed. "Yes," she answered simply. James delved his hand into his waistcoat, drawing out the shards of a broken shell. The one she had given him sixteen years ago. She suddenly felt tears burning at the back of her eyes. He had kept it all these years – broken or not.
"I don't know when…but it broke." James said, his lips pulling down into a frown. Ava scooted across the bed till she reached the side he stood at. She reached past him, taking the lid off the glass jar.
"You can have any one you like, Jimmy." She told him.
"How do you know my name?" He asked suddenly, fists clenching at his side.
Ava's brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?" she questioned. "I don't remember much – I was seven when we met, Jimmy. But I do know that my dad told me to call you Jimmy." Ava told him truthfully.
"That doesn't sound right to me. Because for years, your father and his friends deprived me of a name. Of an identity. And he told you to call you by my real name?" James said in disbelief.
Ava's mouth opened and closed. She looked up at him with such befuddled, confused eyes that James immediately berated himself for even considering that Ava had known a thing about him. "Jimmy…?" Ava said – reaching to take his hand – his vibranium hand.
James recoiled, brushing her hand away. "What did your mother want?" he questioned.
Ava felt like she was getting whiplash from his shifting emotions. "She wanted me to come home. She said something happened to my dad," she answered, abruptly despondent upon remembering her mother's phone call. With James' arrival her mind had conveniently cleared – forgetting everything but the handsome, sad man that had been her best friend and playmate for two months. She had never forgotten him.
"Your father's dead." James said abruptly. Ava's pale blue eyes swung up to meet his. He saw the horror, the sudden grief – utter agony that culminated in her eyes, her expression. Her arms fell to her sides limply – her eyes unseeing. "I'm sorry." He uttered impulsively. "I didn't mean-" James began again – faltering – grasping for the right words and falling short.
Ava rose suddenly – forcing James to step back as she searched for a bag. She threw her backpack on the bed and hurriedly began throwing random articles of clothing onto the bed. "What are you doing?" he questioned.
"I've got to go. I've got to get to my mom," Ava answered distractedly – crossing the room to stuff the clothes into her backpack. She rushed into the bathroom, coming back with handfuls of prescription pill bottles – dumping them into her backpack. Her breath was starting to wheeze out again and she drew out her inhaler – sucking in the medicine with a greedy breath.
James watched all of this with concern. "You're still sick." He remarked – thinking back to his flash of a memory about Steve Rogers and his sickness. He remembered – vaguely – Ava's sickliness when she was a child. James had never thought she would still be sick. The medicine, her wheezing and shallow breathing, and the hint of a scar down the middle of her chest – peeking from the top of her blouse – sickness had followed Ava into her adult life and James felt the strangest sense of déjà vu at the thought.
"Yeah." Ava replied idly. She didn't lift her eyes from her packing, instead zipping up the backpack with a sense of finality. "I've got to go, Jimmy – so why don't you tell me why you're here?" She suggested – looking up at him at last.
The blank – drained look in Ava's eyes told James that he could not lay anymore on her shoulders. Losing her father was enough – she was fragile, that he could see. But he wouldn't let her leave without him. "You're the only thing – the only person I really remember. I've forgotten a lot of things over the years, Ava – but I never forgot about you and your treasures – never completely.
"With your father gone and HYDRA in shambles…you could be in danger and I need to protect you." James informed her.
Ava's eyes narrowed at him. "Did my father tell you to do this before he died?" She asked. The question made James suck in a breath. She wanted to know if he did this because he cared about her – or out of duty.
"No." James answered honestly. Ava let out a breath of relief. "You're the only solid memory I have, Ava. With that and everything I've seen lately – you're the only one I know I can trust," he continued, laying out all he could for her.
"I'm asking you to trust me. Trust me like you once did. I'll make sure no harm comes to you. Ever." James said. There was a vulnerability in his icy-blue eyes that leant to his earnest words.
Ava reached out and took James' hand – he had to steel himself not to recoil from her touch. Again, she had taken the vibranium prosthetic. James wasn't sure he had ever felt a tender – or friendly touch on the vibranium before. He couldn't feel her warmth – but he could feel the pressure of her fingers entwined with his.
"I always trusted you, Jimmy," she murmured – hand tensing in his. James' heart leapt a bit at the rising emotion he felt at her words and her fragile hand clutched in his monstrous one. "I just – it's been so many years and I didn't think I'd ever see you again. And the news you brought…it's a shock." Ava explained – her gaze shifting from his eyes to her feet. "It's all so terribly much," she added sheepishly – seeing a strange emotion – one she didn't recognize – forming on James' face.
"Didn't I tell you I would come back?"
Firstly- I am so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter of Lapsus Memoriae. I have never gotten such a response to the first chapter of one of my fics! Thank you all so much!
Secondly- I worked really hard to get this chapter out for you as soon as I could! I look forward to hearing your thoughts! :)
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