God, it's so annoying when -

I can't help but think that -

There was a sale on -

Saw the new -

Another day, another fight Bucky and Steve got into, meaning I, once again, had to sew up Bucky's clothes. Either stores need to use better material or Bucky needs to learn how to sew. I usually don't mind it, but I can do more than just patch up Steve or sew up the rips in Bucky's pants. I admire them for standing up for others, but my God -

He flipped to another page in the diary, landing on another random page and reading a few sentences to see if he remembered anything, then moving on. The same thing he had been doing since Q - the woman from Moldova - handed him the diary several days before. Sometimes he remembered things, most times he didn't. And he always had a headache afterwards.

He wasn't sure if the diary was helping him or not. The words on the page created scenes in his head that felt so real but he wasn't sure if he really remembered what Rebecca - his sister - had written or if he was just imagining it and his brain convinced him that was a memory. Like hearing a story too many times over, then believing you were there even though you weren't.

The struggle to differentiate between what was actually lived and what wasn't forced him to take long breaks in between his rotations through the diary. Just so his brain could sift through everything he read and try to pull memories instead of creating new ones based on the scenes written in the pages of his sister's diary. The diary he gave her as a Christmas gift. Or a birthday gift. Some sort of gift. He gave his sister a diary as a gift. His sister Rebecca. Who wrote about sales on dresses, and seeing the Wizard of Oz and being amazed by the colors.

Mother would never let me wear them, but the heels were so sparkly and red! Maybe I could take a pair of old heels and paint them red. The craft store probably has some sort of sequins.

She paused in writing out her thoughts, hearing her bedroom door open, "Bucky, get out!" she yelled out without looking at the door. She knew it was her older brother; he was the only one who never knocked.

"What're you writing about?" he asked in response, ignoring her and walking into her room, "How much of a crush ya got now on those fuckin' munchkins from the Wizard of Oz?" she made a face of disgust at his teasings, folding her arms over her diary so he couldn't see what she was doing. He ambled over to her desk, seemingly and uncharacteristically casual. He was planning something, she could tell.

"Go away, Bucky." she lifted her chin up at him, annoyed by his presence. She was in the middle of something after all. Smirking at her, he paused for a moment before his hand snapped out and grabbed her diary out from under her arms. She let out a surprised yelp as he darted away from her.

"Bucky!" she cried out, voice hitting an octave as she quickly jumped out of her desk chair and went after her, "Give it back, you jerk!" she ran down the hall after him. His delighted laughter bounced off the walls of the apartment and he skirted through an open doorway and into his bedroom. Of course, she followed, sliding in after him. He jumped onto his bed, turning to a random page in the diary and reading it aloud,

"Yesterday, Imogen and I left school early to go see Sunrise -" he let out a sharp gasp as Rebecca climbed up onto the bed with him, "Rebecca Elizabeth Barnes!" he chastised her as she reached for the diary,

"Give it back!" she cried out, but he held it over his head, making her jump up to try and get it.

"I can't believe you!" he continued to mock-scold her, "Imagine if Ma was to find out about this! You! Skippin' school!" she glared at him, but he looked so amused.

Wanting nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, she shoved him in the chest. He swayed, the mattress shifting under the movement and throwing him off balance enough to make him lower his arm. Rebecca grabbed the diary from his hand, shoving him again as he laughed.

"You know that's not very lady-like of ya, Becs." he teased her with a tilt of his head. Repeating something their mother always told her: that she must act like a lady to be treated like a lady. But she was certain that didn't apply to stupid, annoying older brothers.

"Fuck you." she snapped out with another glare and push to his chest. He laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the reaction he had gotten out of his sister. He really did love getting her riled up.

Once back in her room - with the door shut - she returned back to her desk. She opened her diary back to the page she was writing on before she was oh so rudely interrupted and scribbled in all caps: BUCKY BARNES IS THE WORST BROTHER IN ALL OF BROOKLYN!

Gently running his flesh thumb over the hard letters of the phrase in the diary, he let his mind wander a bit. Away from the memory that caused his sister - Rebecca - to write that about him. Away from the past he sometimes forgot he lived. Into the present he was currently living.

A few weeks ago, he had accepted the quiet, half life he was then destined to live. The one where he was alone, not bothering anyone, semi-atoning for his sins. Part of that atonement was living with only bits and pieces of himself. A cross of the man he used to be and the monster he was created into. Never fully either ever again.

Then Q showed up. Q. Just a letter. A woman. Not Rebecca. His grand-niece. Family. She gave him the diary. His sister's diary that was full of stories of the past he lived as the man he was. Before the war, before the Asset. Q gave him the diary, and then left. She disappeared. He hadn't seen her in the last several days. Granted, he hadn't left his apartment very much since then. But even when he did, there was no sign of her or the annoyed man who accompanied her everywhere. His name was...it didn't matter. Neither of them were around.

The slip of paper that she had given him with an address scribbled onto it was sticking out of the diary. He started using it as a bookmark so that he wouldn't lose it. The address was where the woman who gave him the diary was staying. Who was she again?

Q decided she didn't like Bucharest. And she knew Dawson didn't either - though he was a lot more vocal about it than she was. He complained constantly about something that was wrong with the flat they were renting, or about the city itself, or even just about the situation they were in.

"...at least when we were in the Ukraine we had a nice view of the beach!" he finished his rant of the day rather loudly with a gesture at the windows. Rubbing at her temples, she tried to release some of the pressure in her head that was not helped by Dawson's constant rants and raves. She knew he was covering up his anxieties about the situation they were in, but it was getting to be a little much for her.

"I need some air." she announced with no regard to responding to one of his many daily outbursts. It wasn't even worth it anymore. She got up from the couch and headed into her bedroom, still hearing him talk even though she had left the room. Sometimes he just needed to hear his own voice.

"I mean, what are we even doing here anymore, Q?" he called out to her, but she knew better than to answer, "We found him, gave him your grandmother's journal, and now...what? We're just waiting around for him to finish reading it?" he asked with a wave of his butterknife, half focused on making his sandwich. Q still didn't respond, pulling on a sweatshirt and grabbing the two noise cancelling wireless earbuds Dawson had made for her so she wasn't as overwhelmed by various noises and whatnot in busy environments.

"Is he gonna do like a book report on it or something?" he made himself laugh at the thought, cutting his sandwich in half and looking up as Q came back out to the main area of the apartment, "Seriously, Q. What are we doing here?" he asked a very valid question, but one she didn't have an answer for yet. Or, the one answer she did have seemed too lame and too selfish. All she wanted to do was get to know Bucky; she thought she was so close to her grandmother and yet there was an entire life she didn't know about. She wanted to make a connection.

"And what about Rogers?" Dawson finally got her attention. Her head flicked up and she was met with a raised eyebrow expression, "I mean, isn't this guy his best friend or whatever? Are you gonna tell him you found him?" she fiddled with the earbud, taking a second to let her brain sift through all the different ways to answer his questions and the outcomes that would come from it.

"Not until I know he's okay." she settled on, meeting his eye, "I can't - if - Bucky is too important to Steve. Finding out he was alive was enough of a shock as it was." she reminded him, "I need to make sure Bucky isn't a threat or anything like that."

"So you want to make sure a hundred year old, brainwashed by Hydra, killing machine is mentally sound before telling Rogers." Dawson summed up with a wave of his sandwich. Hearing her plan aloud sounded a bit ridiculous considering the details that accompanied the men they were discussing, but it was true. Q made a face, eyebrows raising a bit.

"Yeah, basically." she agreed. He rolled his eyes and she took the reaction as her opportunity to exit the scene, "I'm gonna go take a walk. Do you need anything?" she asked, slipping in one earbud and waiting until he shook his head to slip in the other.

The pink noise playlist she had downloaded played in her earbuds, drowning out the other sounds of the city that would no doubt distract her even more than she was already as she walked through the city. These days, the sounds were the worst part of being outside. She didn't mind the people; she was used to being aware of the people around her- though now it was turned up times a thousand. Now, for some reason, she could pick out the motive behind the actions almost immediately. She knew why the man was holding the broom the way he was; his arthritis was acting up. The woman sitting at the corner cafe was looking around herself for her table mate, hoping she hadn't been stood up.

Even with her earbuds in, cancelling out the sounds around her, she could still sense that something was off. She may have been walking alone, but she wasn't alone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, sending little electric shocks to her brain which in turn told her she was in danger. She didn't want to give into the paranoia that was beginning to creep in. What kind of threat could possibly be around? A question her brain was too quick to offer up a slew of answers to: a mugger, Hydra, Rumlow, Hydra, a scorned person of some sort, Hydra, Hydra.

Giving in, she stopped in her tracks and quickly spun around only to come face to face with Bucky. She jumped in surprise, hand going to her chest as if to stop her heart from leaping out behind her ribcage. It wasn't a threat. Just a skillfully trained ex-Hydra assassin.

"Jesus!" she breathed out, closing her eyes for a moment as the alarms in her head continued to cry out in a panic, not understanding what was going on. Her hand moved from her chest to take out the earbuds, the noises of the city crashing over her like a tsunami wave. She winced, gritting her teeth together and trying to focus on what was in front of her.

"My name isn't Jesus." Bucky's low voice responded, giving her something to lock onto and then making her grin a bit. She opened her eyes, tucking her earbuds into her hoodie pocket and then pushing down her hood.

"I know." she responded, "You just scared me." she took in a breath, noticing how he shuffled back from her, putting distance between them. A look of regret flashed over his face,

"I'm sorry." he apologized quietly, "I should've...I saw you walking and you...are the woman from Moldova. Rebecca." he tried to connect the dots and explain his reasoning to her. She gave her a small smile and shook her head,

"Q." she reminded him. His brow furrowed a bit, but then he nodded.

"Q." he repeated her, "Q, right. You gave me an address. That's where I was going when I saw you walking." he explained shortly. She nodded, understanding what he was saying. She went to respond, when a loud blaring of a car horn surprised her enough to make her flinch and look over in the direction that it came from. He followed her gaze, having gotten used to the flow of traffic in Bucharest and the angry drivers that came with it.

The car was long gone, but still her eyes stayed on the spot where the noise came from. Then flicked around the general area, lingering on every person who was walking down the sidewalk. He studied her: her fingernails dug into her palms, her jaw was clenched, and her weight shifted from one foot to the other. The environment was affecting her - overwhelming her. He reached out to put a hand on her arm, knowing the touch would pull her attention to him.

"There's a small cafe on the corner." he spoke slowly, enunciating every word and making sure his voice was at level she could hear but wasn't too loud. A gentle tug of her arm was enough to indicate they were going to start walking. He kept an eye on her the entire time, watching as she tried to work through whatever was going on inside her head.

Thankfully, the cafe wasn't that busy. As much as he wanted to sit outside just because of safety reasons, the woman at the front took them inside the cafe. At least the woman sat them by the window. If necessary, he could use the chair to break the glass, or hopefully be able to see a threat before anything happened. He picked something random off the menu in front of him, not really listening to what the woman across from him ordered, instead taking the chance to do a sweep of the inside of the cafe, taking into account the people that were there and how they were reacting to the two of them. It didn't look like anyone cared about them. Good.

His attention returned to the woman sitting across from him. Q. Not Rebecca. Q. Q gave him the diary. He was going to the address she had given him to talk about the diary. The diary was his sister's. She was calmer than she had been outside. As much as he didn't like being inside, it was better for her to be inside. Less things to be distracted by. Her fidgeting had stopped, the blinking had slowed and her jaw had unclenched. Better.

"I'm sorry." Q mumbled out, catching sight of Bucky's expression. He was looking at her rather intently, reminding her that she had a mini freak out on the street. She reached for her water glass and taking a healthy sip of it, "I got lost in my head for a second."

"I understand." he nodded, shifting a bit in his seat while his metal hand opened and closed instinctively.

A strange feeling stirred behind his sternum when he realized he had helped her. It had been a long time since he had helped anyone - at least for the right reasons. It was a good feeling.

A blush colored her cheeks in slight embarrassment; she didn't mean to go into whatever weird mode she constantly found herself in whenever she was overwhelmed by her surroundings. But Bucky seemed to understand what was going on. That was a nice feeling.

He watched her take another sip of the glass of water, thinking it was a bold move of her. Someone could've poisoned the water without her knowing. He was sure he'd be fine, thanks to the endless Hydra torture he went through to make sure he was immune to any and all poisons, but he was slightly worried about her,

"It's okay." she said, voice calm. His eyes slid back to her face, seeing how she was looking at him intently, "The water." she tapped her finger against the glass as an explanation. Somehow she knew what he was thinking.

At first he wanted to be angry at himself; he had to be more careful about his reactions to things, but then he realized that she was trying to help him, just as he helped her. When was the last time someone had helped him?

Sitting across from each other, it was clear that they could both gain something from the other. Besides learning about her grandmother's past Q could help Bucky relearn about himself, and how to live again instead of just existing. Stop having to double guess everything or think there was a constant danger.

Besides learning about himself and about her - Q - he could teach her how to deal with the side effects of whatever Hydra did to her. How to deal with the constant noise inside her head and focus on one thing at a time. So she could actually live a good life like she deserved.

They could work through it together.

A/N: Felt like this chapter was a little...meh lol I know what I want to do, but I'm not sure you guys are into it/this story anymore. I hope that's just my own insecurities, but please let me know! I love hearing all your thoughts. I'm sorry if it's boring!