(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)

Chapter 5

It was late and pitch dark, but there was no way Bucky could sleep. After 'Helena' got done telling him what had happened and he had helped patch up her injuries, she was just exhausted. He had given her his bed without any hesitation, telling her he would take the couch and not even expecting her to try and argue. Not that Bucky thought he could ever sleep, on the couch or anywhere else. His brain was too busy, his body too full of adrenaline. He needed to be doing something, but he barely knew where to start. He wasn't built for this kind of thing, for helping someone else through this kind of trauma and confusion. He could barely deal for himself most of the time, but this was Nat. He would do anything for her, always.

As soon as he was sure she was asleep, he went to the furthest point from the bedroom door and put in a call to Sam. Even then, he kept his voice down, mindful of Nat waking and freaking out if she heard him.

"I need you to go check out this Jones guy," he told his friend. "I'd do it myself, but I can't leave her. From what she said, she really laid into him. Instinct took over and she... I don't think he's dead, but he's not going to be in a good way."

"From what we know about his motives, can't say I'm sorry to hear that," said Sam grimly, "but you're right, we need to know his status. Plus, I guess there are those kids to think about."

Bucky hadn't even gotten that far and rubbed a hand over his aching forehead when forced to think about it. Sam was right, they were a consideration too. There was way too much to think about and deal with. Thank God the new Captain America was on the ball.

"Hey, man, don't worry," he said in Bucky's ear. "I got this. You take care of Nat, me and Torres will clean up the rest," he promised.

"Thank you, Sam," he told him in reply. "I mean it, thank you."

When the call was done, Bucky sat for a long time considering what the next step should be. It was clear to him now that when Nat was returned to the world, her mind wasn't fully wiped clean. The memories of how to really kick ass were still in there and that wasn't all. Somewhere in amongst the tears and worry, she had confessed to dreams she had been getting that never made sense, that had only intensified since she met him. Then when they kissed in the park that afternoon, it was like an explosion of confusing pictures and sounds.

Bucky didn't ask too much about what she saw and heard. He could already guess. Memories were trying to resurface, only in little bits and pieces so far, but it gave him hope. As awful as it had to be for Nat, recalling fragments of things she couldn't possibly understand - faces and voices, moments of violence and pain as well as happiness - it meant that at least she was still in there somewhere. In the end, that had to be a good thing. Unfortunately, now was not the moment to celebrate, not yet.

Considering the trials that lay ahead of Nat led to Bucky thinking of his own journey back from the maelstrom of a broken mind. Before long, he was over in the corner of the room, rifling through a chest of drawers until he came up with one small piece of Wakandan technology that he hadn't thought to need again for a good long while. Seemed maybe he had been wrong about that.

Firing up the Kimoyo Beads, he concentrated on the sequence to make the connection, then smiled slightly when he saw the face of the very person he needed most right now.

"White Wolf," Shuri greeted him with a grin of her own. "It is good to see you."

"You too, Princess," he said, just as his own smile started to fail. "I only wish this was a social call, but I really need your help."

"What's happening?" she asked worriedly. "Is it the arm?"

"No, no, the arm is fine," he assured her, flexing the vibranium limb out of habit as soon as it was mentioned. "This isn't even about me. It's... You remember how you helped me with the programming in my head? How it brought back a lot of memories?"

"Of course. It was an unexpected side effect of the process, but I suppose not surprising in the circumstances. When all the things that should never have been there were removed, it created space for your natural memories to spread out and come to the surface."

That made sense, Bucky supposed, but it still didn't answer the question he really wanted to ask her.

"So, you think you could do that for somebody else? Somebody not programmed, just someone with, I don't know, like, amnesia or something?"

Shuri's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "I don't know. The process we used to break your programming was specific to your mind and what had been done to it. Like I said, the memory retrieval was a side effect, not what I really set out to achieve."

He was afraid she would say that, that it couldn't just be as simple as repeating the process she followed with him to also free Nat's mind. They were starting from very different places. Both amnesiac in their own ways, yes, but for very different reasons. As yet, none of them really even knew how Nat had been returned to the world, or who or what it was that had left her without memories of her life before Vormir.

"What is this about?" asked Shuri then. "You know there is nothing you cannot tell me."

"I know." Bucky nodded.

There was a smile tugging at his lips even in these serious circumstances, because he did know. Shuri had his back, as much a little sister to him now as his biological one had ever been. Not to mention the fact that she, along with the warrior women of the Dora Milaje, had literally saved his mind and his life. To ask them for yet another favour seemed so wrong, but it was for Nat. He didn't have a choice.

"You remember Natasha? She came with Steve and Sam to..."

"Of course, I remember." Shuri nodded. "Her sacrifice in the Infinity War was a great one and she should never be forgotten."

"Yeah, well, her sacrifice was not as permanent as we thought. She's back, Shuri. After Steve returned the stones, she just... I don't know, popped back into existence? Don't ask me to explain it, because I wouldn't know where to start. The magic and science stuff is strictly your department. All I know is that she's back, but she doesn't remember.

"Look, it's a long story, some guy was taking advantage of her amnesia, but she's safe now. She's here with me, she just doesn't remember anything from before. Well, nothing concrete. It's all pictures and sounds and weird dreams. I'm pretty sure it's all in there, but it's like it's locked up, leaking out in pieces, but mostly trapped in her head where she can't find it. Does that make sense?"

It was one of those rare occasions where Shuri seemed stunned into silence, but after a few moments, she recovered and answered his question.

"I might be able to help her, but you would have to bring her here, where I have access to all of my technology. Does she trust you enough for that?"

Bucky glanced back towards the bedroom door and sighed, before looking back to Shuri's face in the hologram-type image. "I hope so."


When she woke, she sat up fast, breathing hard, temporarily uncertain of where she was. The memories of the day before came flooding back in a second and Helena put her hands to her face, fighting tears. She had to be stronger than this, she knew that she could be, it was just hard. Everything was always a fight, or so she thought, though she wasn't sure why.

It was frightening sometimes, to have random thoughts that she couldn't quantify, seeing faces and hearing voices that she couldn't identify. They had to be memories, but the violence in some, the pain in others, she didn't want to know what that meant. Except she was aware that she needed to figure it out.

Things were not adding up at all. The way Damien talked to her yesterday when they fought, the way she felt about James, how quick he was to take her in when she was in trouble. It was almost as if this was where she belonged, as if she should have been with James all along. As if Damien never ought to have been her husband in the first place.

A light tap on the door startled her from thought. Holding the covers up to her chest, she called for James to come in.

"Hey," he said softly smiling at her. "I thought I heard you moving around. Uh, I made you some breakfast," he explained, stepping into the room and offering her the tray of eggs and toast and coffee.

"Thank you," she said softly, accepting the breakfast tray into her lap.

"Did you sleep okay?" he checked, hovering by the bed, as if unsure whether he should sit down or maybe just leave her alone.

"Yes and no," she admitted, shifting over a little to make room for him, even if it did make her wince from the pain in her leg - she really didn't want him to go. "Um, there's something I need to ask you about. A question I have to ask, and I know it's probably going to sound beyond crazy, but I have to."

"Okay." James nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed facing her. "What is it?"

"The dreams I told you about, the flood of pictures and everything when we kissed, it's all... it doesn't make any sense, but I think they might be memories. With everything Damien said to me when we fought yesterday, I'm starting to think, well, that I might be someone else. That maybe I was never supposed to be with him in the first place. Do you think that's true?"

"Is that the question?" asked James, looking awkward.

"No," she immediately replied, shaking her head. "Not really. The real question is, that day we ran into each other in the grocery store, was it... was it really the first time we met?"

She was holding her breath, waiting on the answer, staring into the breakfast she couldn't possibly eat, struggling to know what reply she was really hoping for. All Helena did know for sure was that, whatever James said next, she was going to believe him. Some kind of instinct, deep within her, so much more than mere memories, told her that she could trust every word he said.

"No," he told her then, "that was not the first time we met. The truth is that we have known each other a really long time. Longer than you can imagine, actually."

The way he looked at her then, with such love and longing in his eyes, coupled with such pain, she had seen it all before but never really understood it. Now, it made sense. Now, Helena knew that she wasn't the only one who had been suffering these past months, that it was just as bad, if not worse, for James.

"Tell me," she urged him, voice nothing more than a whisper. "Please, James, for God's sake, just tell me."

When his face grew blurry, she realised she was crying again, and when she finally managed to blink her way through the tears, she found his eyes seemed to be glistening too. He carefully reached for her hand and squeezed it gently in his own, swallowing hard before he started to explain.

"Your name isn't Helena. It's... well, more recently it was Natasha. Natasha Romanov. You were... you are a hero. It's so complicated, I really don't know how to explain, but the most important thing for you to know right now is that the world owes you a lot. That and the fact that... that I love you and I would never, ever hurt you."

She nodded at those words, a confirmation that she both understood him and believed him too. Whether he got all that from the simple movement of her head, she couldn't be sure, but she really didn't have the words to explain yet.

"Uh, your memories, they seem like they're all still in there," James said then, thumb making gentle circles at her wrist, "and I have a friend who thinks she might be able to help you get them back. I mean, there are no guarantees, but she's pretty much a genius, so... It would mean a plane journey. I'm pretty sure I can get us a private jet, so you don't have to worry about that. It's really just a question of whether or not you feel like you can trust me that much."

He seemed to be holding his breath for her answer, just as much as she had been minutes before. Not that he needed to worry, Natasha needed him to know that. Putting the breakfast tray aside, she moved closer to James, her free hand coming up to his cheek as she met his eyes.

"I trust you," she promised. "I can't explain that, any more than I can explain anything else that's going on right now, but I do. I completely trust you, James."

His eyes closed when she said his name, head tipping forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

"We'll figure this out together," he told her in a whisper. "I promise."

"Thank you," she replied, shifting close enough that her lips touched his, just for a moment. "Now, when do we leave to go see your friend?"

To Be Continued...