Astral Kai: I'm glad you enjoyed my 'discretion'! As for talents in the arts...meh. The good thing about art is there's no concrete definition. Anyway! I really liked this chapter, too! I actually plan on having quite a bit in Bucky's POV for this book, because it has just as much to do with him as it does with May. We'll see. And yes, a beta is a beta reader, someone who is qualified to read through one's writings before it's posted and find any errors that the writer may have missed before it's posted. I've been trying to figure out how to get one since I started writing at the beginning of summer, but I haven't gotten too many complaints for grammar and such, so I've not been too pressed. Maybe during winter break I'll try to figure that out. And good luck with your exams! I have midterms, too, so we can stress together...And thanks for your pep-talk! I really feel good about my major, but having someone back me up is pretty nice, too.

JLBriggs: I know you didn't review, so I don't really have anything to answer to, but I just wanted to that you again for reminding me about Bucky's reaction to May getting an I.D. from Natasha, because while writing this chapter I actually forgot (again) to include that detail, and while checking to make sure I replied to everyone I reread your reminder and quickly included it. Thanks!

Sorry! So sorry! I thought about posting last week, but I had to write a 5-7 paged philosophy paper, due on Monday, on top of all of my usual homework WITH midterms around the corner. Okay, those are all my excuses. I considered posting two chapters today to make up for it, but, well, those midterms coming around the corner? They're here. Fall Break next week! Ah! I'm gonna die! The tests never stop! And my stand partner in symphony is trying to teach me Portuguese on top of the Spanish I already learned, and I'm currently learning German. It never stops! Okay, so the excuses weren't over.

Anyway, my Fall Break is just next week, so make sure to look for a holiday deal next time I post, and then we can get back on schedule with the chapters. Anyway, how's life? Any homeschoolers out there, I envy you. Enjoy it while you can. And be good to your moms. Moms are awesome. Okay, sporadic comments are done. Onto the disclaimer!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but any OC's and my plot, but you should know that by now because I've literally said it each time. Darn lawsuit crud stuff.

Chapter 9

We're Healing

(Slowly But Surely)

When I was still new to the mills everything was very big and scary. The manager was big and his glare was scary. The machines were big and their sounds were scary, and the building itself was very big and scary. I wasn't the only one who felt it, either. The other kids who worked with me often shared the same concerns in scared whispers as the adults walked past.

I wasn't the youngest there, either. Most of the kids were older than me, as well as many adults, but there were the occasional kids my age or a couple years younger.

I knew it was against the law for us to work here. I had told Uncle George this once, too, and got a good slap for it before he explained that there's no such thing as a law. And at first I didn't understand what he meant. With time I heard the rumors, though. I heard of how the manager could be persuaded to turn a blind eye to one's age for a friend, or if promised a bit of the money in return.

And there really wasn't anything us kids could do about it, either.

Once I got the package from Natasha I was left with the decision of what to tell Bucky on how I got the I.D. I was torn, since I generally try to tell the truth, but I was afraid he'd leave if he found out I had let Natasha know roughly where we were hiding. So I reluctantly settled for lying, and practiced all the things HYDRA had taught me, and when I told him I had paid a stranger to get me a fake I.D., he believed me.

Lying to him made me feel gross, though, and I tried to tell myself that it was okay, but I knew it wasn't.

"We should get cell phones," I said once I got an email telling me the restaurant was considering me for work. I just had to come in tomorrow to see how things worked. "So we can contact each other in case anything goes south." The Soldier didn't acknowledge me at all, continuing to eat his food. He had been relatively silent – more so than usual – since he woke me from my nightmare the day before, and I was beginning to grow worried that I had done the wrong thing in telling him what I had dreamed about, or that he had figured out I had lied to him about the I.D. Talking about my dream had helped me, though. I couldn't tell at first, but with time I realized that I felt lighter, and my mind didn't feel so weighed down. Maybe I was being selfish, though. As for the I.D., I pushed it to the back of my mind, hoping it wasn't what was bothering him.

I put down my fork – once again eating eggs since that was the cheapest thing at the time. I plan to go shopping soon, but then again, I'd been telling myself that for a couple days now.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He showed tiny signs of being surprised, and if I weren't trained to look for small signs like that I would've missed it. He did a good job of hiding it, though, and continued to eat his own food, not answering. I looked down for a second before forcing myself to continue facing him.

"Is it because I talked to you about my dream?" His surprise wasn't so concealed this time.

"No," he said immediately. He seemed to consider not saying anything more, but I kept my gaze on him, so he hesitantly began looking for a way to phrase his words.

"I was thinking." I waited for more and he finally consented. His eyes abruptly met mine and he voiced what was on his mind.

"You're helping me get my memories back, which means I'm going to remember everything HYDRA took from me, eventually. Can you get your memories back?" It was my turn to be surprised. I honestly hadn't thought he cared for me enough to worry about things like that. I shook my head after a moment.

"When I was put on the chair it wasn't to take my life from me, just certain parts. Not my time before HYDRA." I thought back to what Zola had said about the chair still having taken some of those memories from me. "Mostly," I added, making his eyebrows go up a fraction. I ignored his silent question so I could continue his original question. "I just forgot a lot of things with time. And I'm pretty sure there aren't other people with my ability, so I can't get back the bits the chair took from me, or it's unlikely that I will." I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but he almost looked disappointed.

"But sometimes I remember some things. Like I remembered my old nickname." Emma. I still wasn't entirely sure if that even was my nickname, but something about it just felt right. When it seemed he wasn't going to say anything else I continued on with my cell phone conversation.

"After I'm done at the restaurant tomorrow I'll stop at a store for groceries, and look for untraceable phones." He wasn't done with the other conversation, though, and ignored me once again.

"Your files are online now, like everything else. You could look at them to see if it helps you remember anything." I frowned at where the conversation was going.

"There's really nothing to remember. I know all of the important things." I think. I guess there's not really a way for me to know for sure. Despite that small uncertainty, I held tight to my conviction.

"You could look to make sure." I couldn't decide whether to be touched by his sudden concern for me or bothered by his persistence.

"I don't want to look at them," I finally admitted, food all but forgotten. "I'm still trying to deal with my life right now. I don't need to deal with my life back then, too." I stared into his eyes hard, trying to get my words across, and he finally broke the contact in submission. I was relieved, but slightly worried that this wasn't going to be the end of this.

Now that I thought about it, though, it might not be such a bad idea for himself. He was searching for the past he didn't remember and I really didn't know much about, so I wasn't sure what he'd find there, and it might aid him in getting answers. I didn't want to face my past, though. Too many ghosts.

Suddenly not hungry, I covered the food in plastic wrap and stuck it in the loud fridge (Great Depression, remember?) before going over to the overstuffed armchair I had silently claimed as my own, a different book in my arms, this one on the cultures of the world. It was surprising how much the whole world had changed in my absence; it wasn't just the U.S. that had changed so much. I had gone back to the library yesterday after surreptitiously taking the package from Natasha out of the old couples' mailbox, finding within a passport and a driver's license. At the library I had picked out a few books for both me and Bucky this time, figuring he'd have plenty of empty time while I was gone.

Thinking back on it, I pulled the I.D. out of my pocket and looked at it for a moment; the only problem with the I.D. was that the girl's hair was rather short, and if I did the math of how long had passed since the picture had supposedly been taken, the chances of my hair being as long as it was now – reaching my mid-back – a suspicious person could call me out on it.

With that in mind I walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the scissors Bucky had swiped from the front desk for no apparent reason – he hardly even seemed to realize he did it. Probably identified it as a weapon and grabbed it instinctively – and headed over to the small bathroom.

I took another look at the picture on the I.D., figuring a bit past shoulder-length should be good, then gripped the scissors and began cutting my hair. It wasn't the first time I'd cut my hair – far from it – and I was slightly relieved to have short hair again. But I couldn't help thinking I'd miss my long hair. It made me feel like the girl I once was. The one who wore dresses, and had a family; the one who was still innocent and happy in the way only a child could be.

As I continued to chop the sides of my hair off, making the sides even, the door behind me opened, revealing the Soldier – Bucky – who seemed rather confused at what I was doing.

"For the job," I explained. Then I was faced with the difficult task of cutting the back of my hair evenly, which I'd never really had to worry about before. Back when I was young mother cut the back for me, and with HYDRA they kept my hair as short as a boy's, and both times I'd been on the streets I hadn't really worried about things like appearance.

Now, though, I needed to look nice for a job – if I got it – and I worried that a place as fancy as the restaurant wouldn't accept me purely because of a bad haircut, so I turned my gaze hesitantly to the Soldier's, meeting them in the mirror only to find he was already looking at me.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" I blurted, completely aware it was an odd question. He knew, too, but answered anyway, raising an eyebrow.

"How would I know?" Without realizing it one of the corners of my mouth pulled upward, though I wasn't entirely sure if he meant that to be funny, but it was to me. It was funny because I should've known he wouldn't remember.

"Feel like finding out?" He didn't say anything, so I held the scissors out behind me, handle toward him, and he hesitantly took it. He was slow at first, but got more confident as he went along.

"I had a sister," he said abruptly, almost causing me to jump as I was startled from my thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror, but his attention was on my hair, which he had stopped cutting. I stayed still, trying not to interrupt his memory.

"She was…She was a lot younger than me." His voice changed suddenly to something more carefree and almost practiced, as if it had been said a lot. "She had Ma's blonde hair and Da's dark eyes." He suddenly frowned, shaking his head, and I watched on in fascination as he switched back to the dark voice I had become familiar with. "Her name was…It was Rose. Rosie." And suddenly his eyes were filled with sorrow, and I knew he was missing the little girl who grew up without her older brother. So I quickly began talking to distract him.

"I had a little brother. His name was Little Tommy and he was a force of nature." His eyes snapped up to the mirror, meeting mine as I gazed intently at him. "There wasn't anything he couldn't get if he really wanted it. Once mother put a plate of cookies on top of the fridge for supper so I wouldn't get them, but it was Little Tommy, who was hardly walking! He got them, and mother got so mad at me when she found them ruined, until we found Tommy with chocolate all over his face. And that's not even the worst of it! He was stealing left and right, but he was so adorable that no one told him off, and he'd just go and steal some more." I chuckled, shaking my head at the memory of my beloved brother who was gone now, and when I looked back up at the Soldier – Bucky – humor sparkled in his eyes as well.

He finished cutting my hair, then retreated from the room as I gathered up the hair from the floor and threw it out in the kitchen garbage, as it was the only garbage can we had, and there wasn't a broom yet.

My hair felt weird and my head felt as if it had lost a few pounds, but I perched up on the overstuffed sofa across from Bucky who was sitting rigidly on the couch, reading one of the books I'd gotten him. I opened my own book, and we settled in a companionable silence as we read the day away, and the edges of my lips twitched up when Bucky finally got comfortable as well, setting his bare feet on the small coffee table.

We may both be damaged, and rather messed up, but we were getting past it. Slowly, we were healing.