A/N: Well, this chapter just kept asking to be longer and longer, and who am I to say no to that? Also, James gets to make a new friend this chapter! Yay!
James spends a long time thinking, after what Luna tells him. He vacillates between anger and hope, and to be honest, he's still not sure he understands.
He tells Luna that, and she shrugs, and says, ambiguously, "When you find out what a foice is, you can tell us what your choice is."
That makes more sense to him, for some reason, than anything else.
It's been almost a month since Luna plucked him up off the street. He still has nightmares, but they're not so bad, anymore. He can fall back asleep afterwards.
His memories are returning in unhelpful little blips, mostly about the blond man - Steve, he used to call him Steve - only he remembers him little, and frail. From what he can tell, he cared a lot about the man who called him Bucky. There's lots of things hidden in the fog of his brain, but he's glad to have something.
James has a flash of guilt about leaving him on the riverbank, but Steve had wanted Bucky, and he doesn't feel like Bucky yet. He's not sure he ever will.
Luna has no expectations about who he should be; she only cares that he is himself. He's James now, and it's good.
He goes out with Luna now, every time, even if it's somewhere crowded, although it makes him antsy.
He's been an assassin for seventy years (his brain knows it even if he can't remember much of it), and the crowds don't freak him out so much as the staring. If he was by himself, he'd be invisible, but he's always with Luna, and she's… the opposite of invisible.
It's just that people like to stare at people who are different, and she's definitely different. In a very good way, James thinks, but there's no accounting for taste.
Most of the time her outings don't seem to have any particular purpose, although there's a park she likes to frequent, and people-watch at. She points out people sometimes and tells him things about them. He's never sure if they're real or imagined. Once, she approaches a lady feeding some ducks and gives her a leaf. The lady is understandably confused, and so is James, but when he asks, Luna just looks at him serenely and says, "It felt important."
That's the most explanation he can expect, really. He finds magic fascinating, but he's given up trying to apply any sort of logic to it. It makes more sense in the abstract.
It's freezing outside today, but he's managed to get one sweater and some lumpy, colorful, crocheted socks on Luna for warmth, so maybe she won't lose her appendages. (It's a work in progress.) He follows Luna as she delves into a series of alleys, each one darker and grimier than the last. He's about to ask if she has a destination in mind, when she stops beside a dumpster.
It takes him a minute, because it looks different in the daylight, but he recognizes the dumpster as the one Luna found him by.
"Why are we here?" he asks, brows furrowing. She hums thoughtfully, and bounces on her toes. He gets the feeling she didn't really plan this.
"I want someone to look in your mind," Luna says. James stiffens.
"Not you?"
"No," she says, looking at him intently, "A very good friend of mine."
He's not as opposed as he was a month ago, especially if it's someone Luna trusts, but it's still a sensitive subject.
"Tell me more," he demands, and she brightens up, like he's already told her yes. He hasn't said no yet, so, in a way, he has.
"She went to school with me," Luna says. "She hid her parents by wiping their minds, and then after the war, she brought them back."
"She… her own parents? Why?"
"They're muggles," she explains. "It's awful, but she was trying to protect them, the best way she knew. And she's the only person to have successfully reversed an obliviation."
"You think," James says, kicking gently at a discarded fast food wrapper. "You think that someone put a spell on my head?"
"Yes. More than once," Luna says quietly.
"And she-your friend-she's the best bet?" His mouth is dry.
Luna nods.
"You trust her?"
"Yes."
"… Okay."
Luna's friend is called Hermione, and she comes over a week later, so James has a lot of time to both ready himself and build his anxiety in equal amounts.
Hermione enters via the fireplace. (James doesn't know how Luna got a wood-burning fireplace in an apartment, but the answer is obviously some kind of magic, so he doesn't ask.) Luna sits next to him on the sofa, holding his hand. The flames blaze green, and then there's a person standing there.
"Hello, Luna!" says Hermione. Her appearance is a complete contrast to Luna; her outfit is the epitome of professional and put-together, except for a few frizzy, curly strands of hair that have escaped her tight bun. James thinks he prefers Luna's quirky style.
Luna says something in greeting to her friend that James misses, and then squeezes his hand.
"This is James, Hermione."
Hermione smiles at him, and starts to lift her hand, and then abruptly stops. Her smile is replaced by shock. James shifts nervously.
"Luna, you-do you know who this is?"
"James," Luna replies, obtusely. She's gently stroking James' palm, which is the only thing keeping him from bolting out the front door.
"James Buchanan Barnes," their visitor insists. "The Winter Soldier, Luna. He's an assassin; people are searching for him."
James is glad Luna isn't holding his metal hand, because it's clenched in a tight fist, and he would've crushed all her fingers by now. He's panicking; he's been recognized. It's useless to run-this is a witch, after all. He can see her wand in her hand already.
"Oh, that. Yes, I know," Luna agrees, and some of his panic is lost in surprise. He hadn't realized she knew who he was. Hermione doesn't appear to be reassured by this.
"And you're hiding him in your home?"
"Hermione," Luna says calmly, "Remember what I wrote you about?"
The two witches lock gazes for a moment, and then Hermione relaxes a little.
"That would change things," she says. "You're sure?"
"Sure as Blibbering Humdingers," Luna assures her, and Hermione snorts, but seems to believe her, because she turns to him, assessingly, and James automatically sits up straighter.
She takes a seat in the high-backed chair across from him. She doesn't look scared of him, which he supposes is good. He'd be worried if the person about to look in his head was terrified of him.
"Are you ready?" Hermione asks him. Luna's still tracing patterns on his palm, so he takes a breath, and lets it out.
"Yeah."
"Alright," she says, meeting his eyes firmly. "This is going to feel strange. Just try to relax."
James nods, and without breaking eye contact, Hermione lifts her wand and says, "Legilimens."
She's not wrong. It is very strange. He can feel her, in his mind, poking around. The sensation isn't totally unfamiliar; someone must have done this to him before, but he thinks it hurt.
He can tell Hermione is doing her best to be gentle as she rifles through his brain. James gets flashes as she touches on various memories. Most of them don't make any sense, out of context, but he sees a few more of Steve, and some other people he still can't put a name to, but there's a vague feeling of recognition.
Many of his memories, however, cause a sharp pain, like a stabbing migraine, when Hermione pokes at them. They don't just hurt him, though; he can see her wince as it happens.
They've been going at it maybe ten minutes, although it feels much longer, when Hermione taps a memory, and it doesn't just hurt, it also releases the entire thing.
Suddenly, he's reliving being brought back in from a mission.
He's not compliant. He's fighting his handlers, and they're trying to manhandle him into the chair. He's wild, confused. He's shouting, he knew them, the people he'd just killed. What was the man's name? He knew him. They were friends, once, and he'd just-he'd killed them. Blew the tires out of the car, and just-what was his name? He can't remember, but he knows-
They get him in the chair. Everything explodes into pain. He forgets it all in the haze.
The Asset is ready to comply.
James comes back to himself with a jolt. His eyes land on Luna. She's holding his face in her hands. He's breathing fast, and sweating.
"You're safe, James," she whispers.
"I killed them," he croaks, and breaks away from her hold. "He was my friend," he tells them. "I didn't remember, until… after. They made me forget."
His eyes are tearing up, and his flesh hand is trembling. Luna doesn't say anything, just tightens her grip on his shoulder.
His metal hand has dug into the arm of the sofa. He tries to extract it carefully, but the sofa is destroyed.
"Sorry," he mutters, but Hermione, who looks a little pale, raises her wand silently, and points it at the sofa arm. James watches it reassemble itself, like nothing had ever happened, and he wishes, not for the first time, that a little magic could solve everything.
"James," Hermione says tentatively. He glances at her cautiously. "I have some good news, and some bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"
The fact that there is any good news at all surprises him a little. He's been kinda resigned to his life being just overall shitty. Some good news would be absolutely fantastic. But all the same…
"Bad," he tells her.
House points if you found the Dr. Seuss quote ;)
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