Driving two super-enhanced men across a few of the nifty-fifty-states of the USA was not the weirdest thing Darcy had dealt with in her short life. She'd defrosted frozen breast milk over a Bunsen burner once- she'd tased a god- she'd gotten drunk at a frat party and woke up in her morning lecture the next day. Still, it was weird watching the two cohabitate in close proximity.

Around 4 PM that afternoon, Steve's eyes had begun to droop. Though he'd put up a token protest, Darcy sent him to the back seat, by which time James had finally woken up and was gazing out the window at the passing farmland.

The playlist had reached its most shameful section- the one with trashy pop and stupid radio hits. Darcy normally sang along with great gusto, but she somehow felt James' metal arm would strangle her of its own accord if she tried.

Before long, Steve was quietly snoring. James was tapping his cybernetic fingers against the armrest, each tap sending a spike of annoyance through Darcy.

Desperate to stop him, she asked him to come sit next to her.

"I need a better navigator than this shitty Stark Industries GPS. The fact that it's programmed with Tony's voice makes me a little nauseous."

Wordlessly, James shifted to the front seat without even disturbing Steve- his muscles bunched interestingly through his thermal tee-shirt, and Darcy had to remind herself who she was ogling.

Once James was seat belted, Darcy turned off the music and handed him a map. She did have a pretty good idea as to where they were going, so the map was a ruse.

Careful to keep her tone light, Darcy glanced at James and mentioned, "I did some research last night- about your sister."

The tapping ceased instantly.

"Turns out she's still alive- pushing 98, with 4 kids of her own, 6 grandkids, and even a couple of great-grandkids."

James suddenly turned to face the window, silent but for the steady sound of his breathing. Darcy remained silent, instead turning on the cruise control option on the SUV.

Keeping one eye on the road and the other on the passenger seat, she pulled up her phone and searched for a few seconds for a bookmarked page.

"I found a few pictures, if you wanna see."

James slowly clenched his flesh and blood hand into a fist, unfurling each finger slowly. Finally glancing at Darcy, he nodded tightly, as if he was barely keeping himself together.

The first picture was of a younger Rebecca- maybe aged 36, with three pretty young daughters and a handsome husband. They stood before a white picket fence, each parent with a baby in arm.
James made a sighing sound, and then he shut his eyes tightly.

"I- I remember."

"What do you remember, James?"

He shook his head and Darcy waited, worried that she'd been wrong to bring up fresh memories while he was traveling in a small vehicle.

Thankfully, he recovered from the episode quickly. Tears had pooled in his eyes but had yet to fall, so he wiped them away roughly.

"I remember Becca wanted girls. She said boys were all troublemakers like me. And I remember her guy- Harold Pine. She'd been dating him for years on and off- then the war came along, and she let him go with it."

"Wow. She sounds amazing. I wish I could meet her."

"Me too."

Darcy didn't know what to say to that, so she started discussing her grandma Ethel (maternal), who was convinced Darcy was going to hell for remaining single as long as she had.

James listened pretty carefully, considering how stupid the conversation really was. It was reassuring, seeing him smile slightly at her dumb jokes and self-deprecating comments. She didn't usually make such a fool of herself, but he needed the lightheartedness right then.

Around 6 PM the sun started to set, and Darcy knew she had to switch over with Steve. She pulled over at a rest stop and turned around.
"Steeeeve! Captain Snoozles! Time to wake up!"

He sat up with a grunt and rubbed his face.
"Whazzat!? Everything okay?"

"It's all good buddy, we just have to switch. I can't see worth a damn in the dark- I'll miss every exit and drive us into oncoming traffic."

Steve nodded gamely and excused himself to use the little boys' room. Darcy glanced at herself in the mirror and winced- dry skin from the heater, circles under her eyes- what a mess.

Pulling out her makeup bag from her purse, she got to work moisturizing her skin and dabbing on some foundation. Even if she was in a car for the rest of the night, she wanted to look nice.

James was watching her very intently, but she pretended she hadn't noticed. Instead, she applied a coat of mascara in short, quick strokes. She skipped her eyeliner, but applied a coat of her favorite lipstick- a cheery red that reminded her of the 4th of July and Christmas all at once.

She was packing up her makeup when she felt a gentle touch at the corner of her mouth- James, wiping her face with his thumb.

"Your lipstick smeared."

Darcy reactively pressed her fingers to her lips, and sure enough, there was a tiny trace of red on her cheek.

Unsure of the butterflies in her stomach, Darcy thanked James with a bright smile. Then she clambered into the backseat without exiting the car.

"What're you doing?"
"I need a nap, James. I'm no super soldier, and my stamina is shot right now. Be nice to Steve, by the way. If he gets annoying, though, you can read a book on my Kindle."

Darcy dug through her bag and found it, showing James how to use it. He understood quickly enough, just as Steve re-entered the SUV.

"Alright. I just talked with Nat- she says she doesn't want us driving into the city, so we're rendezvousing with her near the state border. She'll take it from there."

Darcy mumbled a sleepy assent, and James nodded, not looking up from the device in his hands.

Steve turned the key and they were soon cruising down the highway. James didn't so much as look at him, focused as he was on Herman Melville's "Moby Dick".

After an hour's silence, though, James spoke up. He didn't exactly say much- just, "Rebecca's alive."

But it made Steve's eyes get a little watery- he remembered beautiful Rebecca and how much she'd loved Bucky, and even him.

"That's fantastic James- I'm so glad for you."
James didn't respond, but he did hit the back button on the Kindle a few times. Then, he began to read aloud, voice low to avoid disturbing Darcy.

"Call me Ishmael…"

They arrived in New York by 11 AM the next day, with Darcy at the wheel and James asleep in the back again.

It was raining, so the field Natasha had told them to meet her at was muddy and wet. Darcy was glad she'd opted to wear her knee-high boots, as she squished and splashed in the damp earth.

Steve and Bucky weren't as lucky, both calf deep in the mud. Tired, grumpy, and dirty, the three of them climbed into Natasha's waiting helicopter. Darcy had never been in one before, and enjoyed the bird's eye view of New York immensely. Steve and James were very familiar with helicopters, in comparison, so they both dozed off.

Darcy was on the verge of falling asleep herself when Natasha quietly spoke up from the pilot's seat.

"I'm impressed. James seems calmer."

Darcy shrugged. "I tried my best to avoid triggers and to make him comfortable. Steve kind of threw me for a loop, though."

The assassin laughed and Darcy wondered what was so funny. She didn't get a chance to find out though, as the helicopter touched down onto a landing pad- right next to a giant "A" on a skyscraper.

Realization dawned and Darcy couldn't control herself.

"Tell me that's NOT Avengers Tower!?"

"It's not Avenger's Tower."

"Whatever, Natasha, you know what I mean."

Darcy giddily climbed out of her seat and out of the helicopter, almost shoving Natasha in her eagerness to see the famous Tower's insignia up close. Maybe it was dorky of her to idolize and care about a couple of super-special individuals who did a lot of good, but she couldn't help herself. She cared about Thor, she really liked Natasha despite her manipulation, and Tony Stark was a fucking legend.

Even Cap was bearable.

Impatient to see what was taking so long, Darcy turned on her heel to spur on James and Steve.

James stood near the edge of the landing pad, warily looking about him.

Steve looked confused, and Natasha indifferent (though that seemed like a real act).

Sighing, Darcy curbed her enthusiasm and quietly asked the two to head inside- she'd talk to James.

Natasha rolled her eyes and Steve worriedly glanced behind him as they walked inside.

Alone with James, Darcy walked over to him, making sure she made enough noise that he knew she was approaching.

As she came closer, she could see that blank look on James' face- the one that screamed "I CAN'T COPE RIGHT NOW" and Darcy wished she could help take away some of that frustration and helplessness- Lord knew she'd had plenty of experience with the emotion.

Instead, Darcy placed a gentle hand on James' shoulder, and then sat down crosslegged near him. She didn't speak, instead opting to look at the skyline with him.

A few minutes passed before James spoke up.

From her angle, he seemed like a giant, looming high up in the sky. His voice was oddly detached too, as he murmured, "It's different."

"I know. I know, hon, it's different. But some things haven't changed a bit."

James wearily lowered himself into a seated position, legs loosely crossed. Darcy resisted the urge to give him a hug, and instead opted to squeeze his knee lightly.

"I got your back, buddy. I work in the city, so I can visit whenever."

James immediately shrunk back, inching away.

Perplexed, Darcy sent him her best "what the fuck" look and arched an eyebrow.

"Idon'twantyoutoleave."

"What's that? I don't speak mumble, James."
Sighing, James rubbed his face and pinched his nose, seeming entirely too world-weary for someone who couldn't be biologically older than 30.

"I don't want you to leave. I like having you around."

Darcy tried not to beam, but she kind of failed, biting her lip in her valiant attempt.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You help me remember without it really hurting."

Darcy didn't know what to say to that, so she just giggled.

"Well, you're gonna have a real hard time shaking me off, buddy. I'm a parasite! You'll never be free of me. Wanna go inside? I bet there's food, and I'm starved."

James nodded, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. Considering the moment a success, Darcy got up and offered James her hand. He took it, using her as leverage to stand up.

She made to start walking to the door, but James kept hold of her hand.

Darcy turned back, and almost spoke up but was halted by the gentle look on James' face.

"Is everything… okay?"
"It is. Thank you, Darcy."

James squeezed her hand again, and Darcy could feel a little frisson of heat run from the tips of her fingers all the way down to the pit of her stomach.

With too much false cheer in her voice, Darcy exclaimed, "Okay then! Let's go inside!"

Way to go, Darce. Make the guy feel awkward- like he needs more of that in his fucking life.

Steve had been worried sick for the entirety of the car ride from the farm to the outskirts of New York. He was worried for Darcy's safety, he was worried for James' sanity- and he kept slipping up and calling him Bucky, and then Darcy would glare at him and James would just blankly stare at him-

It hurt to see.

Natasha's presence was a relief- she was steady, a companion who could defend herself and also help James.

They were seated around a conference table when Darcy finally entered with James, the former looking slightly flustered as she found a chair.

"Hey guys, sorry about the wait."
The doors whooshed open and Tony Stark waltzed in, with all the flair and confidence Steve remembered.

"Capsicle! Good to see you alive and well, bro. And Natalie, you look lovely and deadly as ever."

Darcy looked shellshocked and Steve could understand why- Stark was a bit of a live wire, and you could never be sure what was going to come out of his mouth next.

Standing up, Steve shook Tony's hand, greeting him in turn.

"Well, we've got ourselves some new friends here today. Who is this strapping gentleman here?"

Darcy's awe turned to irritation as James visibly grew uncomfortable, but to his credit he kept his face straight and replied, "James Barnes. Good to meet you."

Tony genuinely smiled and clapped James on the back, turning then towards Darcy.

"And you are?"

Natasha cut in before Darcy could eke out a response.
"This is Darcy Lewis. She works for Pepper in the clean energy media division of Stark Industries, and she's also Dr. Foster's former assistant."

Tony's eyes grew the size of saucers- "THE Dr. Foster?! I've been trying to convince her to collaborate with me on projects now that she's with Stark Industries R&D but she keeps ignoring my calls!"

Darcy rolled her eyes and laughed. "Haha, knowing Jane she's probably used her phone as some new part to one of her machines. She would probably like to work with you too, I'll get in touch for you."

Tony clapped his hands and then remembered why they were even gathered.

"Ok! So I know that our friend James is having some troubles with his memory, and I've found someone who can help him!"

He paused, as if expecting applause.

"Okay then. I found a woman with a skill for memories- a mutant, to use that ugly word. Not one of Professor X's, but she is fairly powerful and definitely a good guy."
Steve's alarm bells rang instantly- "How can we trust some stranger to pick around James' brain?!"

"Listen, I understand that it's a risk- everything about this is a risk. I've elected to bring her around here tomorrow morning for you and James to meet. If he likes what he hears, they can work on retrieving James' memories."
Natasha laughed this time, and when everyone turned to stare at her she looked affronted.

"What!? I just can't believe how reasonable Stark's being."

A highly offended Tony cried out. "I made you supercharged Widow's Bite gauntlets! Apologize if you ever want to try them on!"

Black Widow and Iron Man walked off, arguing over unnecessary weapons upgrades. As he departed, Tony called out "I have guest rooms all down this hall. Help yourself to one, shower up. Dinner in two hours!"

Steve really wanted to shower, but he turned to see if Darcy or James needed anything.

"Are you guys gonna be ok?"

James quietly nodded, and Darcy sent him a big thumbs up.

Satisfied, Steve found a guest room that was unoccupied. He threw his duffel on the bed, toed off his mud caked shoes, and got in the shower.

James found his room fairly easily, so Darcy was free to go to her own.

As soon as she walked in, Darcy squealed- Avengers guest rooms were swanky.

She knew from sight alone that the sheet's thread count had to be in the thousands, and the carpet was so plush her socked feet sunk into it.

Feeling at ease for the first time in almost a week, Darcy walked into the similarly luxurious bathroom. There was a deep and wide bathtub with mysterious faucets and nozzles on it. It was clear Darcy HAD to take a bubble bath right then and there, in order to understand the science behind it all (don't say Jane taught her nothing).

An hour later, Darcy was dozing in a bath that was still steamily hot (way to go Tony) as music floated through the air. Dreamily, Darcy made the effort to wash her hair and condition it, if only to look nice for dinner. Reluctantly, she climbed out of the bath and into the softest robe she'd ever worn in her life.

Toasty and safe, she lay back on the bed and fell fast asleep immediately.

Darcy was late to dinner.

It bothered James because Darcy was not usually late to meals (she usually cooked them).

Worried, he knocked on her door, once, twice, three times.

When she didn't open the door, he was about to get Stark to come and override the lock, when the door cracked open.

"Hello?"

"Darcy! Dinner's already started and I wasn't sure if you were ok."

Darcy's sleepy eyes shot open and she shook her head.

"I dozed off, James. I'll be right out, okay?"

Opening the door wider, she waved him away.

"Go! I'm fine, just tired. See you in ten minutes!"

James stared at her for a moment, taking in the fuzzy robe, and the pale, smooth looking legs emerging from underneath the robe.

He remembered (vaguely) that he'd always loved a woman with beautiful legs, and somehow that memory felt too intimate, even if it was once his. And to think that about Darcy wasn't right either-

He tamped down the images and walked back to the dining room.

Steve had wondered where James had wandered off to, so when he returned he sent him his best "Everything okay?" look.

James nodded and sat back down to his pizza.

Five minutes later, Darcy finally arrived, dressed in a truly oversized sweater that would probably fit Steve better, and tights.

"Sorry I'm late guys, I totally fell asleep on Tony's awesome bed- and where is the Tin Man, by the way?"

James shrugged (Steve almost smiled from how familiar the gesture was on his friend Bucky but he kept it to himself) and Steve answered, "His lab. He rarely leaves, and if then only because Pepper made him, or the world needs saving. Or both."

Darcy snagged some pizza on a paper plate and got comfortable, enjoying the meal immensely.

"You know boys, it's nice to eat something you didn't have to make yourself. I cook a lot, mostly because it's cheaper and leftovers are delicious. Steve, did you cook a lot in ye olde Brooklyn, circa 1940s?"

James didn't look bothered so Steve took it as a safe topic to pursue.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't cook worth a damn. Partially because food rations were always low, but also because we just didn't cook that fancily back then. Our options were limited to boil or bake, and boiling was cheaper than using wood or oil for an oven. Bucky- James, usually made the food. I cleaned."

Darcy cocked an eyebrow and moved one seat closer to Steve.
"I didn't know you were roommates."

"We were. We shared a room in a boarding house- cheap enough for us to have money for food, but not too crappy that we were in danger of getting the plague."

James was following the conversation closely, that much was clear to Darcy. Steve saw it too, and he mouthed thanks at her when James leaned over to grab more pizza.

Taking a bite of her own slice of pepperoni pizza, Darcy asked, "Well, what did James used to cook?"

"Well, I remember James used to make soup and stew all the time, on account of me being so sick all the time. I never knew what he did with it, but it was always delicious- and it made me feel better every time."

Darcy forced herself to contain her "AWWW!" and instead chose to poke James' knee with her foot.

"Hey, you. After we eat, wanna try watching the last Batman movie? Or we could watch something happier, I'm not picky."

James shrugged again, so Darcy waited until he was ready to respond.

Steve ate his way through another half a pizza, unsure of how else to pass the time.

After 15 minutes of silence, he left, leaving James sitting and staring quietly. He was worried sick, but he also knew his presence grated on James.

Darcy didn't give up, but instead sat on the nearby sofa, feet tucked in under her as she listened to the roar of the fire.

Eventually, James came and sat in the chair near her, palms resting on the arms of chair.

He waited for Darcy to speak, or even just leave, but she stayed, half dozing.

She was close enough that he could smell the traces of perfume on her sweater- something sweet and feminine, but not cloying.

James silently counted seconds as he tried to lessen his awareness of Darcy's presence- for some reason, seeing her like he'd seen her in her robe- vulnerable, somewhat bare- sexy.

Before, she had been a clinical presence- pleasant, but not unlike a medicine which soothed the pain of his sickness. Now though- now, he liked to be around her because she made him smile. She made him want to get better for some reason, something Steve had failed to inspire in him.

He hadn't felt anything akin to desire in decades, and it was heady, the rush of it.

He knew the old Bucky was something of a Lothario, but at that moment he felt as bumbling and nervous as a virgin of 15, struggling to control himself.

It wasn't that he was so turned on he couldn't function- he just couldn't stop noticing her.

It was like in the car the day before, when she'd put lipstick on with all the allure of a siren. Something about her pale pink lips turning scarlet red with a swipe of a tube- her fingernails painted purple and green sparkly.

Once he heard Darcy snoring, he turned to look at her- properly.

She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but her features were arresting. Fine eyebrows above big blue eyes that widened and squinted to accuse and laugh all in the same moment.

Her mouth was spectacular- and somehow he remembered the pleasure of kissing a woman with pouty lips, without remembering the who or the where or the when.

Sighing, he shook his head. There was no point in getting attached; Darcy was leaving for her own life very soon, and he had no right to expect anything from her.

Carefully, he lifted her and took her back to her guest room, tucking her in as carefully as he could without waking her.

He crept out of her room and into his own, immediately shucking his shirt and shoes.

Laying back on his bed, he turned his mind to his current least favorite subject-

Steve.

He wanted to be happy to have him back, but every time he spoke to him, James could only feel an absence of emotion.

Perhaps if he'd been a stranger, he'd have loved Steve- been best friends with him. But knowing the depth and breadth of their previous relationship was intimidating- and he knew that, without meaning to, Steve projected his intense desire to resume said relationship onto James with the regularity of an eager puppy.

James didn't like kicking the poor puppy, but hearing Steve say "Bucky" excitedly was enough to make him want to claw his eyes out.

He wasn't Bucky Barnes, the same way he wasn't The Winter Soldier anymore.
He preferred James because it was a clear slate- no expectations or memories for James to remember.

Rolling over, James punched the pillow to make it softer and got comfortable. He needed to sleep if he wanted to make any progress with Stark's memory-lady the next morning.

In this dream, she's dancing in a club.

The bass is thumping, the rhythm of the crowd is sweeping her off her feet, but she can't hear even tell what song is on.

She is naked, as is everyone else, and she is gyrating filthily in time to the beat.

She feels alive.

And then the tune changes to something slower, something more primal. The drum beat slams in time with her heart, and Darcy looks for someone to share the moment with.

A man approaches from the faceless crowds, and she can't really see his face.

He's tall, and muscular, and well proportioned- and best of all, without even seeing his face, she can tell that he's smiling in a way that's warm and sexual simultaneously.

They begin to circle one another, hips bumping in tune as Darcy pivots on her heel to meet his casual thrusts. They are quickly grinding, but it's innocent, and pleasurable, and not a one night stand.

Darcy wants to kiss the man, more than anything, so she turns her neck as far back as she can to touch her lips to his-

And then she sees the face plate, and the black grease around his eyes, and that ever present smiles is concealed.

She pries off the mask and there's James' smile only twisted.

Quizzically, he cocks his head and says, "I remember you."

Darcy woke up in a cold sweat, with a racing heart and pounding head.

It was 3:22 AM, and she was still in her clothes from dinner. She vaguely remembered James carrying her to bed, but she'd been too sleepy to protest.

The dream lingered in her mind-

Her subconscious was being pretty obvious in letting her know that she though James Buchanan Barnes was a fine piece of ass, and she wanted to tap it like a maple tree for syrup.

Darcy felt overheated, so she stripped off her sweater and tights. It was still too hot, so she also removed her tanktop and bra.

Sleeping topless was common for Darcy in the summer, considering how hot it got and how infrequently she got to free the girls from their restraints. At night, she rarely wore more than an old t-shirt.

That night was different, though. The thrumming of the music remained in her mind, and the slight ache between her legs flowered into full on arousal.

Groaning, Darcy mentally face palmed as she evaluated just how turned on she really was-

Yeah, she was soaking wet after a sex dream about James.

Clamping her thighs firmly together, Darcy groaned to herself.

She was in big, big trouble.

Ivanka Asimov (no relation to Isaac) was nervous about her consultation with the Soldier.

Nerves had no place in her line of business, but there she was, sweating and panicking over doing a good job.

Her job being memory retrieval- part psychology, part hypnosis, and part mutated gene- she was able to take an individual within their own mind, to an extent, and allow them to access the memories which they needed the most to begin the reparation process. It was usually an arduous task for both she and the client.

Tony Stark's CEO, Pepper Potts, had been quite persuasive in convincing her to fly out that very night to New York City, which told her that whoever she was helping was incredibly important.

When the AI let her into a small examining room, two men and two women stood facing one another, each displaying nervousness in their individual stances- one with his arms defensively crossed on his very broad chest, the other tapping his metal fingers on the examining table. The shorter, curvier brunette woman was twirling a lock of her hair, while the other stood ram rod straight and flexed her fingers infinitesimally.

Putting on her most competent face, she smiled.

"Good morning! My name is Ivanka."

The broad chested one stepped forward, shaking her hand and introducing himself. The women followed in suit- the man who didn't make a noise or move a muscle revealed himself as her patient-

The blank eyes, the twitchiness.

It was textbook.

She'd been briefed with utmost detail, and had signed a NDC to prevent any leaks of information. She knew the man, James Barnes, was very, very damaged.

"I'm honored to help anyone who needs it with my abilities."

The redhead aggressively shifted her weight so she was leaning into Ivanka's space and asked, "Would you care to clarify the extent of these 'abilities', as you call them?"

"Not a problem. I was born with an innate ability to know things about people's past- somehow I just knew. It became dangerous for me, growing up in the former USSR, but that's another story. Right now, though, what matters is that over the past 20 years, I've developed a memory retrieval technique which causes minimal impact to the physical and mental health of patients involved."

James spoke, shocking everybody; "What about people who have no mental health? I've been toyed with, Miss. For years. Can you repair that?"

There was something too vulnerable about him- like he'd had his emotional defenses forcibly removed, and as a result he was unprotected from the world around him.

Understanding the bristliness of his companions, she decided honesty was the only path.

"Well, Mr. Barnes, I can't promise a complete recovery of who you once were. All I can deliver are the memories that were taken from you- good and bad. You might hate some of what you see, but those memories will be yours to control and take ownership of."

He still seemed unconvinced, so she tried a different tack.

"Do you want a minor demonstration? It requires no preparation and is completely accurate."

The brunette, Darcy, volunteered.

Ivanka took a deep breath, counted to 10, and then gently placed her palm atop Darcy's, pressing down slightly.

Through the pressure, small waves of information flowed into her mind- images, some bright and some dark. Quickly, she chose one that seemed the least intimate.

It took a moment for her mind to clear of Darcy's memories, but she recovered swiftly.

"I saw a pond, frozen over. I saw a little girl and an old man skating- your grandfather, I presume. It's the mid to early 90s, and the little girl wore a knit cap that had bunny ears sewn to it. I can go on, but you can tell that I'm right, aren't I?"

Darcy's eyes were wide as saucers as she glanced at her own palms and then Ivanka's.

"You… you saw all that? Gramps and I at the old pond- we never even took pictures together there. There was no way, we were alone…"
Ivanka grinned.

"When shall we start?"

The broad chested one- Captain America- was eager, replying "Today if possible. I don't want to inconvenience you ma'am, but it's urgent."

The others nodded, except the one man whose opinion really mattered. Carefully, Ivanka moved nearer to him and placed a hand on the table next to his.

"Do you want to go through with this? I will be frank- it's going to hurt like a bitch and you're going to hate parts of it- but the end result will be complete and total recovery. It will confuse you at times, and you will probably need some medication if you're not already on it, but I think you can do it. I believe you'll come through with flying colors."

James' eyes flickered for an instant with something- agreement, perhaps, and he nodded.

Ivanka clapped her hands as cheerily as she could, considering the significance of the task ahead of her.

"Ok. I need time with my client for a preliminary evaluation and then we'll begin. James, is there anyone in particular you want with you during the procedure?"

Steve spoke up before he even answered, saying "I'll be there."

James' shook his head ever so slightly- "I don't want you seeing me like that. Darcy… would you?"

The woman nodded fiercely, chin upturned with strange determination. Ivanka could see something simmering between the two, and was glad of it. The man would need an ally throughout the process of recuperation, well past Ivanka's involvement with him.

Darcy was scared.

She stood with Steve, Natasha having left to go "shoot something".

She also felt awkward, knowing Steve wanted to be there- and he had a right to be, it made sense.

Who was she?

Perhaps a lighthouse for James, who was lost in the dark. When everything was illuminated, he'd see that Darcy was just a friend, and realize that Steve was the true rock to lean on in his recovery.

Steve's impressive jaw was flexing and unflexing, as he stood stoic and silently.

She was about to cave and ask him to go in her stead when Steve began to speak, without his gaze ever leaving the window into the examining room.

"I get it."

"What?"

"I get why he's so… attracted to you. Not in the typical sense, but just… you're warm and alive. You have a liveliness I just don't have- I might have, once, but… not right now. Not yet. I can't be who he needs right now- and you can. I'd be the worst friend in the world if I denied him that over some bruised feelings."

Darcy couldn't prevent a few tears from leaking out before she timidly laid a hand on Steve's arm.

"I know… you're right. You are right, but it doesn't mean you aren't hurt by it. I just don't want to cause you any pain- you don't deserve it."

Steve chuckled lightly, and he grinned at her.

"You've forgiven me for my stupidity from before, haven't you?"

Darcy considered it for a second before nodding in the affirmative.
Steve laughed again, but he sobered quickly.

"I haven't forgiven you for putting yourself in danger's path. I've seen too many civilians go down because they tried to fight a fight too big for them."

His arm had tensed up under her hand, so she removed it.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. I just act sometimes without thinking- which is scary, considering my family history with impulse control. And it has to remind you of Phil sometimes, doesn't it?"

Steve turned sharply to face her.

"How do you know about Phil Coulson?"
"We met, in New Mexico. Thor had come crashing down to Earth, and SHIELD sent their best to try capturing him, Mew-mew, Jane's equipment, and my iPod. I hated him for a while, but I was wrecked when I found out about… Loki's encounter with him. Coulson was one of those rare people who truly believed in protecting the world for the sake of the greater good- even if it meant stealing Apple products."

Steve smiled, a sad smile, but he squeezed her hand and then returned to his silent vigil for James.

Darcy sat down nearby and stared at her boots- low, chunky heels. Good for running, good for standing still for long periods of time. After London, she'd made it a point to never, ever wear heels when there was potential danger.

Ivanka interrupted her musings by gesturing for her through the window. Darcy sent a worried look to Steve, who smiled wanly in return.

Terrified, Darcy stepped through the door way and sat next to James, who lay on the bed.

"Hey dude. I was gonna make a roast chicken for dinner tonight. Should I make two? Maybe leave enough for sandwiches tomorrow?"

Darcy prattled on while Ivanka prepared herself. James was calm, though oddly detached.

She kept a hand on the bed, avoiding touching James. When Ivanka declared she was ready, though, James grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Thank you, Darcy."

A metronome turned on, and Ivanka slowly counted down from ten. James' face relaxed and his eyes shut. She carefully pressed her palms to the side of James' face, and asked James where he was.

"I'm in my brain."

What do you see in there?

"I see nothing."

Let me help.

(The pressure built for a moment and then ceased)

There. Now look around.

"I see a forest! I see trees, and men running. Gunfire- so much of that, and trenches, and people shouting."

Do you see any people in particular?

"I see Steve- I recognize him. He's his old self- little."

I see. Do you remember yourself from when Steve was little?

"No."

Let me open some doors- be careful, this might hurt.

(and it did, the moment she turned on some switch and memories began to flow in like water from a burst dam)

"It's too much- I can't separate any of it!"

I can. Let me guide you through the earliest and we can build up to your latest memories, okay?

"I can see Steve… drawing. He's still little… and I see a fair. I see the draft, and offices, and my uniform."

Very good, James.

"I remember basic training- and then being captured in Italy. It hurt, whatever they did to me."

Hydra is the one to blame for everything, James. I can see this, plain as day. You have no responsibility for what will come.

"I wish I could believe that."

Look for yourself- you fought for your country.

"No. I fought for Steve. I think… I think I get it."

Let us continue onwards.

"Oh. I guess… this is where I died?"

Not quite but yes, it seems.

But someone found you.

"I… I don't wanna remember this. I don't like who I was when I was Yasha…"

You were never Yasha. You were James, blindfolded and drugged, and used against your will.

"I hurt people- innocent people."

Who isn't guilty of that?

"But Natasha… Natalia… She was too young."

She is another victim, James. Do not blame yourself.

"I killed people for a living. I killed people with no emotions, I didn't give a damn!"

Didn't you? You killed because you were given no other reason for existence- you were being pulled by strings like a marionette- and they put you away once you were done with the show.

"I… I don't feel so good."

Do not drown yourself in the memories, James. Simply allow them to flow about you like water- be shaped by the flow of the current rather than the images themselves.

"That sounds like a lot of bullshit, Doctor."

"I'm no doctor… but you sound a lot more like a person than a puppet right now, James."

"I can see Steve again… Am I supposed to be mad at him right now? Because I am, he keeps losing fights with me."

Ah. Well, that's up to you. Your emotions are yours alone.

"I forgot what that was like, I guess. And seeing Natalia… I don't know what to feel about that."

I doubt you're the only person confused about their feelings for that woman.

"Ha! Oh- Pierce. I remember him. Did I kill him?"

Not from what I can see.

"I wish I had. He deserved it."

Death is a strange thing. Sometimes we are innocent, sometimes we earn it- but we all reach it one way or another.

"I'm still here- I oughta be dead but I never seem to go."

You've been dealt a strange hand. Don't fight it.

"Big words coming from you."

You were a lot less prickly before this.

"I guess I- Bucky, was a bit of an ass. I am Bucky, I suppose."

James, Bucky- they're just words. Who you are is found in your actions after today.

"Whatever, shrink. All I know is that I gotta figure out what's going on- Oh, there's Darcy."

Aha.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

The girl means a great deal to you.

Even after seeing your past memories, she remains important.

"Well she helped me out of a tight spot, and kept me from murdering Captain America. I owe her a coffee or something, at least."

I think you can do better than that.

"You sound like my ma."

You know what I mean.

"I can remember them…my parents. And Becca. Things are fitting together better."

Good. Now… what do you remember about the Winter Soldier?

"Shit… he hurt a lot of people. Killed innocent people and guilty people with same amount of remorse: none."

Do you still think of yourself as part of him?

"Maybe. I think I'll always have to remember what I used to be but I don't think it's going to be a part of my future."

Yes, thinking of the future is good.

We're nearly done James.

"Bucky. I'm Bucky. James is my father."

Bucky.

I like that.

Before we go back, Bucky, I want to remind you- this isn't done.

You're going to have flashbacks- night terrors, panic attacks. You will have to take anxiety medication most likely, to control the chemical imbalances in your mind.

You have survived a great deal of trauma- now you have to be careful with your mind, okay? It's delicate, and needs proper attention. Find a therapist, a good one. Talk to them.

Tell them how you feel.

"Easier said than done, doc. I donno how I feel."

That's up to you to figure out.

And by the way…

Ask Darcy out in a few weeks, maybe.

"Mind your own business! She's just a friend- a pal!"

Sure.

They'd been under for more than an hour.

Steve was going insane, waiting for James to open his eyes. He wasn't sure what to expect- complete recovery seemed too good to be true, considering how awful some of the memories his friend would have to relive were.

But some of them were good, he hoped.

Darcy hadn't let go of James' hand, and he could see even through the glass that she'd been crying quietly. He wasn't sure what was between her and James, but it seemed like it was good for James.

Whether it was healthy for Darcy remained to be seen, though.

Steve must have dozed off, because Ivanka woke him up with her laughter. He nearly ran into the room, and stopped still when he saw James, sitting up. He was still holding Darcy's hand, but he stopped mid-sentence at his presence.

"Steve? You okay?"

(Steve's heart began to race with anticipation and hope and it was really too much for his overburdened brain to deal with, to be honest)

"I'm fine… James."

James scowled in that way that was uniquely his and shook his head.

"I thought I told you long ago that my name was Bucky. James is my FATHER."

Steve gripped a nearby table and tried to get a grip- but his grip was too tight it turned out, as metal was crushed beneath his fingers.

Darcy burst out into guffaws.

"It worked, Steve! It worked! Ask him something!"

Mind working in overdrive, he struggled to think of something- anything.

Inspiration hit when he saw Bucky's sweaty face, lightly covered in stubble.

"Remember the first time you shaved?"

Bucky's mouth stretched into a wide smile as he slapped the table.

"Goddamnit Steve, do we have to remember that of all things?"

"What's the big deal, Bucky?" Darcy looked indignant at not knowing, so Bucky patted her hand and began to tell the story of the first time him, at age 11, shaved his face with his father's razor without any soap or lotion.

"I was covered in cuts! Steve tried to steal some of Becca's makeup to cover it up, but it didn't work. I got caught and Pops nearly whupped me for being so damn stupid."

Everyone else got caught up in laughing and talking, but Steve couldn't stop staring.

Bucky was alive- not James but Bucky, his friend.

It was normal- listening to him charm women.

It felt right again.

Bucky hauled himself off the bed and stretched, wincing at the pounding in his head. Darcy was discussing medication and ongoing treatment with Ivanka, so Steve gestured out towards the living area.

"Wanna beer?"

"I never say no to free booze."

Bucky sprawled on a sofa chair with some of the confidence he remembered- though some of the movements seemed measured and false. Steve ignored the niggling feeling and instead focused on the good.

Sitting across from Bucky on the coffee, Steve sipped his drink and watched Bucky chug his in 30 seconds.

"You always were a bit of a lush, huh jerk?"

"Shut the hell up, punk. And before you get all mushy and shit faced, I got to say one thing: Thank you. You didn't leave me behind when it would've made sense to. You never gave up on me. I have my identity back, sort of, thanks to you. And I'm sorry I've been an ass to you for the past few days."

"That's nothing Buck- how many times have you saved me from bullies and snipers? We're square- always were. You're my brother, so you never owed me a thing."

Bucky leaned over and gripped Steve's shoulder. Taking the moment, Steve grabbed Bucky and hugged him.

It felt cathartic to hold on to his friend again- to know he was almost whole.

"I missed ya, jerk."

"Shut up, punk. You're ruining the moment."