Thank you again, everyone, for the support! Here's the next installment. Feel free to leave feedback and/or ideas for future chapters. I'd appreciate it a lot!
-4. 'Some days I can't even trust myself'/ 'It's killing me to see you this way'
It was the next morning. Apparently Tuesday was the Avengers shopping day, since according to Tony all of the 'normal people' were working, and usually did their shopping on the weekend.
Steve had argued against Jamie going with them, thinking it would be too much of a culture shock for her. Natasha had been quick to put him in his place.
"Steve, she hasn't been stuck in the ice for the past seventy years like you were, okay? She's been out and about, all over the world completing missions and doing who knows what else."
"But she doesn't remember any of it!" Steve had protested. Jamie had scowled at this. Of course she didn't remember. Did she need him reminding everyone of that, every five minutes? No.
"That doesn't matter. Brainwashing only affects certain portions of the brain, Steve. Things like specific people, places, and things can be erased, but not everything. Things like body memory, motor skills, and usually trained abilities remain. Obvious, really. What use would an untrained, nonfunctional Winter Soldier be to HYDRA?"
To everyone's surprise, Jamie had actually let out a snort of laughter at this. "Sorry," she apologized quietly after everyone had stared at her in shock for quite a bit longer than was necessary. She hid behind her hair with a subtle shift of her head. "I guess my sense of humor is a bit twisted right now."
"What do you know about where we are now?" Steve asked her directly. Jamie looked up and met his intent gaze.
"I'm assuming you mean time and place," Jamie said slowly.
"Try century, decade, year, month and day. Then try place."
Jamie stared at him with an eyebrow raised for a long moment. "It's the twenty first century," she told him, and Steve's face fell in surprise. "Second decade—whatever you call that. I don't think you can call it a thing until you get to the twenties or so. I won't bother with the year, month or date—we all know what that is and I don't really want to look stupider than necessary. Let's just say I know the date, and move on."
"Fine," Tony had agreed, just as Thor had traipsed into the kitchen, cape billowing as if in the winds of his enthusiasm.
"Good morning, friends!" he said, a little too loudly. "It is truly a glorious morning in Midgard."He began fishing in a high cupboard for something.
"What the hell is a Midgard?" Jamie asked. Again, everyone looked at her as if surprised. She stared back at them all, levelly. "Well? Anyone?"
"Midgard is Asgardian speak for Earth," Steve explained.
"And an Assguard is?" Tony snorted coffee out of his nose and ran to the sink to save himself.
"Why, Asgard is home realm to both Loki and I!" Thor boomed, bringing a humongous plateful of ham and eggs to his spot at the table, along with a small blue box.
At that moment a scowling Loki swept into the kitchen, all green and gold and dark leather and mystery. "Home to you, brother," he corrected rather bitterly. Thor's face fell.
"Ah…yes. Well." He looked to Jamie. "Loki has been banished to Earth to serve out punishment for his misdeeds," he explained solemnly—or as solemnly as you could get while unwrapping breakfast pastry.
"That wasn't what I meant, but I suppose it shall suffice for the time being. The mortal is befuddled enough without my somewhat tragic backstory, I'm afraid." Loki looked down at Thor's plate, and pointed at its contents with a long, pale and expertly manicured finger. "What's this? I was under the impression that you only consumed pop-tarts so early in the morning."
Thor looked even graver. "Jane has insisted I supplement my diet with other, more wholesome foods," he told his brother.
"Ah." A devious smile took Loki's face. "Look at you now, brother. Thor the mighty—or perhaps I should say, the henpecked."
The greater majority of the Avengers snickered at this.
"Jane is a very intelligent woman!" Thor protested, casting defensive glances around at his friends. Jamie just stared at them all, rather missing the humor. "I trust her opinion on this matter."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Next, she'll be picking out your capes for you," Clint commented, dishing up his own breakfast.
Thor scowled and bit furiously into a pop-tart, crumbs falling down into the chinks of his armor.
Meanwhile Steve, who was sitting on Jamie's left side, set a plate down in front of her. "What's this?" Jamie asked, staring down at the waffles swathed in butter and strawberry jam in confusion.
"Food," Steve said, and Jamie had to resist the urge to punch him out of his chair and across the room. She did resist, but only just.
"Well, you don't say?" she said dryly. Steve's eyebrows rose a mile, while Tony broke down again and snorted coffee for a second, less graceful time. It went all down his shirt, which luckily was a deep onyx grey and wouldn't show the stains. "I know that, champ. I wanna know what's on these waffles, and why."
"Like I said before: sassy." Now drying his face with an expensive looking kitchen towel, Tony looked about to fall into another fit of giggles. There was something very satisfying about Steve having sass dished at him by his amnesiac friend.
Steve was looking at her sideways, a blush on his cheeks and a slight smile on his mouth. "Strawberry jam and butter, Buck. That's the way you always ate waffles back home."
"Jam and butter?" Clint asked suspiciously. "No syrup?"He was dousing his own waffles in syrup at the moment, so that each square on its surface was filled with the decadent sauce.
"Nope." Steve shook his head firmly. "She hated the stuff."
Next moment, Jamie had yanked the syrup out of Clint's grasp.
"Hey!" Clint protested, but then looked at the bionic arm clutching the bottle, and then at the very intense 'Winter Soldier' look he was getting. "You know what, never mind. Take it."
Jamie lowered her gaze and sniffed the bottle experimentally. An eyebrow rose, and she looked over at Steve to find him looking at her with his own, blond eyebrow arched expectantly.
"It looks like motor oil," she commented, staring at the bottle with her brow furrowed. Steve's face got a strange look on it. From the opposite side of the table, Natasha recognized it as nostalgia.
"You used to say that," he said quietly. But Jamie was pouring a drop onto her finger, and tasting it.
After a moment her face twisted into disgust, and she began to cough loudly. Steve reached back and clapped her on the back, while Clint took back the syrup with a resentful expression.
"Tastes…like motor oil, too," Jamie wheezed, and Steve actually grinned at this.
"And that too," he finished, shaking his head bemusedly. "Eat your breakfast, and get that taste out of your mouth."
With a sideways look from watery eyes, Jamie took a fork and cut a piece of buttered strawberry waffle, placing it in her mouth. After a cautious pause, she began chewing, eventually devouring the entire plate.
Steve kept on smiling to himself as he made up his own breakfast. He just couldn't help it: some things just never changed with Bucky. Not even after seventy years in HYDRA hell.
After what was later dubbed 'the waffle revelation', Steve relaxed about Bucky coming shopping with them. It seemed like being around the Avengers was helping her come out of her funk, at any rate.
)( )( )(
"I have an idea!"
Jamie was in the back of one of Tony's convertibles with Steve, Clint and Natasha. This one was a deep cherry red, and in the bright New York sunshine it shone almost blindingly. She was on the left side of the car, settled against the wall with Steve tucked close against her, her good arm flush against his own.
Perhaps it was her heightened sense of smell, but even with the wind whipping her hair around her face and tossing the smells of the city past her nose she could still smell him. She'd memorized the smell during breakfast: soap, talcum from the gym, a faint spicy scent, and something that was just him. She almost hated the fact that she was so acutely aware of his presence that she could practically feel his pulse against her skin even over all of the bumps and sharp turns that Tony was making.
He kept smiling at her, blue eyes full of everything and brilliant against the blue New York skies. The tall shiny buildings around them didn't even register in her mind. She hated the way she was watching him, the way his hair fluttered in the wind and his golden eyelashes caught the sunlight. It was pitiful. If she'd been on a mission, she would have been failing miserably.
But then, around Steve, her missions seemed destined to fail.
It was Clint who had spoken up. Given the cramped space in the backseat and the fact that a super soldier was already in it, Natasha was sitting on the archer's lap. He looked like he wasn't sure if he should be ecstatic or frightened by the turn of events. As it was, the ecstatic was coming through strong. His eyes glinted happily behind purple tinted sunglasses. Natasha looked as if she was tolerating it—but Jamie saw a glint of contentment and even happiness in those green eyes.
"Know what?" Steve asked, turning to Clint while squinting and shading his eyes with a hand. Natasha almost got smacked with his elbow, so she swatted him first. "OW! Sorry."
Beside him, Jamie was squinting against the light. Most of her ops had occurred at night, or on cloudy days, from what she remembered. The few times she had been out during the daylight hours she'd been required to wear her full face mask, complete with dark glasses.
Jamie was much paler than any of the other Avengers. Tony had commented that she was competing with Loki for 'fairest maiden in the land'. She had actually smiled at the reference. Snow White was pretty apt a comparison in her situation. Winter puns aside, she felt nearly see through next to Tony's tanned skin. Not to mention that she had nothing to wear in the tower, and since asking Natasha seemed obtrusive she'd slept in her dark military grade clothing.
Steve hadn't been okay with that, though, and had returned in the morning with a white t-shirt that was at least four sizes too large for her, besides being a man's shirt. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was how paper white it made her look.
Jamie wondered why she cared. She'd spent over seventy years wearing whatever HYDRA threw at or strapped onto her. Now she was wondering if she was too pale for…oh.
Too pale for Steve's liking.
She scowled subconsciously, and turned her head away from the group to stare out at the street. Luckily her bionic arm was covered by the shirt's long sleeve, so it didn't attract people's attention. Tony did, though, so a few people pointed and stared as they flew by.
Clint was still talking. "…it's a great idea, Tasha!"
"You got this out of The Hunger Games, didn't you?" The redhead rolled her eyes skyward. "Typical. Letting you read that series was a serious mistake. Main-character-is-an-archer aside, you seem to think it's a cryptic chronicle of your life."
"I think male Katniss has got a point," Tony called from the driver's seat. Bruce was in the passenger seat beside him.
"Point about what?" Jamie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Steve looked over, more serious now.
"Something called 'Real or Not Real'," he told her loudly. Jamie tensed at the phrase, hoping it didn't mean what she thought it did. "Put the canopy up Stark. We can't hear a damn thing with all this wind."
"Aw, come on Cap. Then people can't see my awesome." Tony caught Steve's glare in the rearview mirror. "Fine, fine. Talk now, awesome later."The canopy pulled up over their heads, shielding them from the bright sunlight and peering eyes. Jamie immediately felt more comfortable—just before the claustrophobia hit her.
Tony turned the ventilation on after a few moments. "Sheesh, do we have a load of mouth breathers in here or what? Natasha, don't go anywhere near Barton's face. I think something's dead in there."
"There are six people in this car, Tony," Bruce reminded him.
"Yeah, whatever. My point about Barton still stands though."
"Can we get back on topic, please?" Steve demanded. He knew that if they allowed it Tony would go on like this for ages.
"Sure. In short, it's a great way of figuring out which memories she has are from her past, and which ones are HYDRA implants," Clint argued. He looked at Jamie. "Basically the concept is that whenever you think you remember something from your past, you tell it to Mr. Stars and Stripes here, and he tells you if it's 'real' or 'not real'."
"Thanks for that incredibly helpful explanation, birdbrain," Tony said, casting a wry look at the man from under his own dark sunglasses. "I think you've cleared up the obvious aspects of things. Seeing as you've got your hands full, why don't we leave the science to the educated, shall we?"
Barton was shooting arrows with his eyes. Jamie could almost see the crosshairs on the back of Tony's head.
"Two harsh insults in a five minute period, Stark," Natasha warned him, patting Clint on the chest in what was almost a soothing way. "That's pushing luck—even for you."
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm paying for everything. You're all in my car. I say what I want."
"From a scientific standpoint, it may help reverse certain affects of mental trauma," Bruce offered helpfully, trying to redirect. "No one really knows what HYDRA did when brainwashing her. It wasn't just a simple wipe job, obviously; since at some point she woke up believing that she worked for them. So I'd say that anything she remembers from her actual, non-fictitious past that can be verified is a step in the right direction."
"Even if the memory is painful?" Steve asked, hoping it wasn't.
Bruce sighed. "Unfortunately, even then, yes."
Jamie was silent in the dark beside Steve. He couldn't even hear the sound of her breathing, even with his super hearing, which surprised him at first. Then he remembered something. How could he have forgotten, he wondered to himself angrily. It made him furious that he would forget something so important. How could he forget that?
It was then that he realized that that was how Jamie must be feeling, all the time.
"Bucky, breathe," he said lowly, too low for the others who were arguing amongst themselves about PTSD and Clint's Hunger Games obsession to notice. Steve heard a slight hitch from the space beside him, and then after a long moment the sound of her drawing breath. Relief washed over him in a cool wave.
How had he known? Jamie was wondering. She stopped breathing when stressed, yeah. It had been a problem for her in a few instances, when flashbacks of war had come over her during a mission. But over time she'd all but conquered the problem, leading to a nearly flawless performance level. Why was that returning now? Perhaps it had to do with her undoing the effects of her brainwashing. This was the longest she could remember having gone without being wiped while out of cryofreeze.
She was even more surprised when a hand found hers in the darkness, strong fingers weaving through hers and clasping her hand comfortingly. A strange feeling came over her, and she became aware of a slight increase in his pulse. She could feel it beating in his fingers and palm better than his arm. Jamie sincerely hoped that she could manage to keep her own heart-rate steady. Why did she suddenly feel so much more at ease?
Was this the effect Steve used to have on her? If so she could understand why she'd still been friends with that version of him that was so much smaller, way back whenever. It was the feeling, she realized, as the car pulled to a stop in a parking garage: the feeling that everything would be okay, no matter what. She got the feeling that that had been a constant factor in their relationship—one that she was so confident about, she didn't even feel the need to check with him later to verify it.
The hood was removed again, but the enclosed garage was much dimmer and her eyes could tolerate it better. The Avengers piled out of the doors and back of the convertible, Natasha springing out like a cat and Clint not far behind her. Steve climbed over the edge and landed firmly as Tony and Banner opened their doors and got out.
Steve held out his arms to her, offering to lift her out. "Coming, Buck?"
Jamie looked at his eyes, shining at her expectantly. Every time he looked at her was like he was looking at his favorite thing in the world. Sometimes his gaze had guilt in it, but overall it was filled with wonder and excitement. It made her feel guilty herself, and something else. Something that made her head buzz and her stomach flop and her good hand go slightly numb and tingly.
Instead of vaulting herself over the edge of the car like she easily could have done, Jamie climbed to her feet and allowed Steve to haul her out. He held her firmly by the waist, even after she was safely on the asphalt. "You used to make me happy," Jamie asked him quietly. "Real or not real?"
A smile crept softly onto Steve's lips. "Real," he told her.
"And did I make you happy?"
"More than you knew." He lifted her bowed head with a finger under her chin. "That's something that hasn't changed."
And for the first time in a very long time, Bucky smiled back at him—albeit very faintly.
Clint was on the opposite side of the car, holding his clutched hands to his mouth and making a sort of excited noise filled with garbled words. 'Peeta' and 'Katniss' were the only fragments the others caught, but it was all they needed to understand: Hawkeye was full on fanboying.
Perhaps Steve was blond and strong and kind. Perhaps Jamie was slightly distant, and haunted, and had blue eyes and a long braid of dark hair extending down her back. But those were no reason for this kind of behavior, and Natasha knew it. That was why seconds later, Clint received a harsh upsmack that literally echoed in the parking garage. It also snapped Steve and Jamie out of their little moment.
"OW!" Clint yelped, rubbing his head and giving her an injured look.
"Stop making a fool of yourself," Natasha chided him, arms crossed. "We have a busy day ahead of us—and Jamie doesn't even have a shirt to her name."
Jamie sighed, really wishing she wasn't wearing Steve's shirt and hoping nobody would read into it the wrong way. That would be embarrassing.
Then she wondered why the hell she cared, and wrote it off as nerves. This mission was really beginning to compromise her, in ways she knew she didn't fully understand. Take, for example, this new game of 'Real of Not Real'. It didn't seem half bad, and Bruce's logic had been very persuading.
Jamie was beginning to think she might even enjoy it—if she could remember what enjoying something was.
If it was anything like the strange fluttery feeling in her stomach she got when hand-in-hand with Steve, then it might not be so bad after all.