After the incident it was decided that I would be moved down stairs to the containment level in the basement of the new Headquarters, farther away from Stark Tower.
Meaning I would be placed back in the newer, more updated version of the apartment that Bucky and I had both been in when we first got back to the States.
Now, almost a two weeks later, I sat in the corner of the room with my arms wrapped around my legs, as I breathed through the pain of remembering.
I remembered many things so far. Many of the things were about me.
Or who I once used to be.
Like how I used to love laying in the yard on warm sunny days because I loved how the sun felt on my skin as I laid on the damp grass.
Or how I used to sing when I was cooking with my mom.
Or how I prank my brothers relentlessly to get back at them for doing the same to me.
Sassying them every chance I could.
Or how I've always loved wearing Bucky's sweaters while we are at home because his scent relaxes me, when he wasn't with me.
Or how I used to pick wild flowers and make flower crowns to wear throughout the day while I was out.
Now, it's taken so much strength just to be able to get out of that bed every morning.
I hardly sleep, and when I do, I wake up more tired than the night before.
Memories after memories have begun to assault my mind throughout the day, so I decided to sit in the corner of the room, and close my eyes in hopes to keep me calm enough not to destroy yet another room.
I missed the kids terribly. I missed everyone too, but my kids more. I secretly talk to them sometimes, mentally of course, but only on the good days.
I withheld using my powers, only using them while I was in the training room to keep from overloading myself.
Just as I was about to decide to lay down, I noticed it was getting close to four in the afternoon, which meant the therapist I was encouraged to see would be here soon.
Dr. Sherilyn Michaels.
So far, we've only managed to get past one thing, and that's separating my memories and reality.
While it was only a small thing for everyone else, I know it has helped me cope a lot, I don't think talking about anything else will help me though.
No, not really. Because if I speak about what they did, then it really did happen. If I don't, I can protect myself by pretending it was all a nightmare and that's all it will ever be.
I sighed, shaking my head as I slowly walked over to my closet, to get my clothes before making my way towards the bathroom.
When I first arrived, I couldn't shower or bathe at all because it would cause me to get a flashback.
I would feel as if I was drowning even if I wasn't anywhere near the shower.
After the first time it happened, Bucky found me in a fetal position in the shower, under the water, completely unresponsive and almost blue from being under the water for so long.
Now, I can manage to take a bath, albeit a short one, and the water has to be extremely hot to the touch for me to withstand it. But that's better than using warmed water and washcloths in the shower stall.
As I filled the tub, inhaled and exhaled slowly before stripping off my clothes, wrapping myself in a towel for a moment, before turning off the water and climbing in.
The hot water relaxed my tense muscles, as I slowly sat down, before leaning back with a sigh.
I washed my body with the exfoliating sponge that Nat bought me, and washed my hair with the honeysuckle shampoo and conditioner she got me.
The smells helped relax me further before I unclogged the tub and rinsed myself with the small removable shower head that was placed right there for me to use.
Once I'm out I put my hair in the soft foam rollers to dry, and I change into a blue flowered tunic shirt and some black jeggings, before slipping on my black boots.
Once my hair is dry, I take it out of the rollers and add hairspray before shaking it loose a little, and slipping on my reading glasses before grabbing the book on my nightstand.
Wanted, is the name of the book.
Nat and Wanda bought it for me along with many others to 'entertain myself while I'm forced to be down here.'
At first I laughed at the large box but then, I got bored after baking all morning one day.
Two days later and I'm halfway through the steamy novel, giggling each time there is a naughty part in it, knowing half the things that are done in the book are only a small portion of what Bucky and I have already done, and that was only the first year we were married.
I giggle again, as I read a paragraph, as I pulled my legs up into the large lounge chair, before laying back and throwing them back over the arm of the chair.
"Having fun there?"
I quickly sat up in my seat, slamming the book shut as I turned sharply to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the living room with a smirk and eyebrows raised as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Oh, err, hi… James, what are you— what are you doing here?" I stuttered before pulling the book back out, before realizing what I did and shoving it back into the cushions.
"What's going on?" I asked as I pulled off my glass and bit my lip, as I correct my position on the lounge chair.
"Dr. Miles had a family emergency, and won't be able to come today or next week." He explained as he moved into the room.
I sighed, looking down at my lap, "Is that all?" I asked, frowning.
"No, I wanted to see how you are… How've you been, doll?" He asked as he sat down on the couch.
"Alright. Bored for the most part..." I whispered. "I remembered a few things… and put them in my journal." I added.
"Is the journal helping?" He asked me, curiously.
I nodded, playing with my fingers. "How are the kids?" I asked, biting my lip.
"They're good. Growing, learning new things every day… Jamie learned a new word today, which Tony feels bad about but it was an accident." He shrugged.
I felt my hands clench, "He taught my son a bad word…" I repeated slowly, clenching my hands.
He looked down at my hands, before looking up at my calm face. " Woah, hey. What's wrong?" He asked, frowning.
"I'll kill him…" I muttered, shooting out of my seat, before moving towards the door.
I could feel Bucky quickly follow me as I made my way towards the elevator, pushing the button after inputting the code.
"Woah, woah, woah. Where are you going?" He asked, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me back.
"To kill Tony. I warned him not to teach my babies bad words or habits." I replied as I tried to move out of his grasp.
"You remember." he stated, pulling me back, and pushing me into the wall, before caging me in with his arms.
"I— I— shit!" I muttered, before looking up to meet his gaze.
"Arie, what do you remember?" He asked me calmly.
"A lot of things…" I replied evasively, looking down at my feet.
"You'll have to be more specific, doll." He said, as he used his fingers to lift my chin up to look at him.
"Almost everything, except— except parts of my childhood." I finally replied.
"So, you remember… me, and your brothers… and our friends…?" He asked.
"Well, yes, but there are still a lot of holes in my memories." I explained.
"So, all this time, you've been pretending?" He asked, hurt.
"No, not exactly, I mean I still can't remember a lot about myself, and I don't want you all to be disappointed, so I kept it to myself…" I explained, frowning.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
How do I explain this without sounding cold?
"I know my birth name is Isabel Marianna Barnes neé Barton, I'm married to you, James Buchanan Barnes. But I can't remember— the feelings we had. Or how we fell in love. I can't remember living happily when I feel nothing but fear and anxiety every time I go out…" I whispered, as my eyes brimmed over.
There, that was the simplest way that I could say it.
"So, what you're telling me is that you are scared to be with us?" He asked, hurt.
At that moment I so badly wanted to jump on him, and kiss the living daylights out of him to take my words back, take his pain away...
"What no?! I just… I just want to remember being with you. I want to remember everything that we had. I want to feel that safety I used to feel when I was with you, I want to look at you the same way you look at me and I can't because you're never here." I whispered, looking away.
"Is that what this is about? Me not being here with you?" He asked, confused.
Not entirely.
"No, I— I just want you all to stop looking at me like I'm going to attack you, and I just— I just wish this never happened. That I didn't struggle everyday just to not relive, remember those days." I whispered.
"Baby, I know... Trust me, when I say I know." He said, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.
"Look, I remember, I do remember a lot but with those memories I feel like a stranger looking in. I feel like half of myself has been ripped away. That's why I didn't tell you. Because that look of hurt, and disappointment that you're giving me now? That will now haunt me for months to come." I said as I pushed him away and walked towards my room.
I was mad at myself, now.
I wanted to throw something, take my frustrations out on something.
But before I could Bucky walked into the room breathing heavily.
"You can't just tell me all of that and walk away. We need to talk, Arie." He said as he shrugged off his jacket, and threw it on the chair in the corner.
"What are— what are you doing?" I asked, backing away, wide-eyed as my eyes fell on his well defined muscular upper body.
"I'm going to help you get your memory back. If I have to fuck the living shit out of you, I will. Worked last time, why not try it now?" He asked, unzipping his hoodie.
"But we don't know if it'll work, though." I replied, as I watched him step out of his shoes.
"It's worth a try don't you think, doll?" He asked, smirking.
His smirk caused my pulse to quicken as I bit my lip in response.
"Do you want to?" He asked, stopping his movements to look at me, doubtfully.
I stared at him, looking at his eyes, before looking at him up and down again. "What the hell? It's not like I have anything better to do down here anyway." I replied, as I pulled off my shirt and threw it over my shoulder.
"Brat." He muttered chuckling as he pulled his shirt off too, walking over to me and pulling me flush against him, before he leaned down to kiss me.
