Disclaimer: I own nothing Captain America-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking Marvel to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.
AN: This chapter has a variety of flashbacks into Bucky's 'past' (most of which I made up, so please don't flame me for being creative). Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Thanks so much!
Chapter 9: Memories:
A few days after Bucky's first major breakthrough with his memories, Anna felt that he was making pretty good progress. He, however, believed otherwise, but knew it was a bad idea to contradict her.
Once he had agreed to try different techniques to try and bring back the memories he'd lost, Anna had immediately gathered everything aromatic in the house, hoping that one of them might bring out either a memory or an emotion that was connected to something from his past.
The first few tries, nothing happened –the only results had been one mild sneezing fit and a small headache. Anna had tried offering him only a handful of scents each day, so as not to overwhelm him, but nothing happened. Two days of later, with zero results, Anna eventually realized that a lot of the scents she was having him try probably hadn't even been around (or widely available) during the 1940's.
Bucky had felt terrible about it, believing that he should have known better and realized what was wrong. Rather than let him wallow in self-pity, Anna had simply told him to not give up, and let her handle it.
"This whole thing about triggering your memories with scents and other sensory means was my idea," she said. "It's not your fault that it isn't working."
She'd then sent him up to his room, instructing him to clear his head and get some rest for the next day while she worked on the problem, apparently determined to fix it all on her own.
Bucky had reluctantly returned to his room, but had been unable to relax, as she'd asked. Instead, close to midnight, he had gone down to get a snack and found Anna working steadily on her laptop. Even though he longed to offer his help, Bucky had decided not to bother her, and instead gone back to bed, his mind full of questions about what she had been doing.
The next morning, Bucky had gone down, thinking that she would have slept in a little after working so late. However, there she was, eating her way through a big bowl of cereal, dark circles under her eyes from her lack of sleep. It turned out that Anna had spent her late-night hours in research, so that she could find what had been around during WWII, and to find what she could around the house to help him.
"That had been rather stupid me," she'd said with a smile as he sat next to her with his own breakfast. "I did a lot of research, though, so now we might be able to make a little bit of headway."
Anna decided that waving things under his nose was silly, so she decided to take different approaches. She'd researched things that people had used back in his era, and was going to start cooking with certain ingredients to produce dishes that were relatively common back in his day.
Bucky was amazed at how hard she was willing to work for him. To thank her, he was more than willing to put up with another round of her experiment.
Oddly enough, the new attempts began to pay off almost at once.
First, Anna had used a slow cooker to make pot roast. As the hours rolled by, the smell of roasting meat and potatoes filled the house, tickling the back of his mind as he struggled to grasp anything that came to him.
That's when the memories came.
Images of a small apartment in a ramshackle wood building in Brooklyn emerged, along with a vague outline of a woman with a warm smile on her blurry face. From the gentle, loving way the woman treated, Bucky knew that she had to have been his mother, and that the apartment was their home. Those memories brought a pleasant warmth to his heart, and gave him new hope.
Remembering his home triggered other suppressed memories, like how his best friend since childhood, Steve Rogers, had lived only one floor and a few apartments over from him.
Their mothers had been firm friends, and when their husbands had died while the boys had been young, both women had been poor widows, struggling to feed their children and themselves. There had been numerous times when they'd been forced to toss random ingredients together in order to make one decent meal a day, the four of them sharing the food out of one large pot over a fire in the fireplace.
At the age of ten, the two boys had set themselves to work, bringing money home to their mothers. If one boy was out of work, due to being let go or quitting a harsh boss, the other shared out what he had made that week, so that they could pay the rent and have enough to eat.
But as they got older, Steve didn't get much bigger than a young, teenage boy. He had always been sickly as a child, which was probably why he remained so small and fragile, much to his mother's worry.
Once he realized that Steve had become a target for the other boys and young men in the neighborhood, Bucky remembered that he had taken it upon himself to look after his best friend, no matter what.
Unfortunately, after the pot roast, Bucky had a bit of a dry spell.
Anna tried cooking other things that dated back to the '40s, and once she found out that he'd spent some time in Russia, she tried a few Russian recipes she found online. To both of their disappointments, none of them had the impact that the first attempt had.
Surprisingly, the second breakthrough happened while Anna was doing the laundry. Bucky had gone down for breakfast one morning, and was surprised to find Anna tossing her clothes into a washing machine. In the weeks they'd lived together, it was the first time he'd ever seen her do laundry –most of the time, she wore something akin to pajamas, since she didn't go outside. As a result of their 'house arrest,' most of her clothes weren't dirty or sweaty and (in his mind) didn't require washing.
It had been silly, but part of him admired the mechanics of the device. In his years with HYDRA, Bucky had heard about advances in technology, but he'd never actually used one. Most of the time, some lowly HYDRA member had been sent to get him clean clothes, or wash the ones he already had –cleaning dirty clothes was not part of his training.
It had been his thoughts about laundry, and the clean fresh scent of the soap led him to another string of memories.
He could recall his mother hunched over a wash tub every Sunday morning, her hands working furiously to get the stains out of his pants or socks. She had sometimes done other people's laundry, too, for extra money or in exchange for food. More often then not, Steve's mother joined her, the two women taking the time to exchange gossip as they washed their boys' or neighbors' clothing.
And while their mothers chatted, Bucky was with Steve, playing ball or racing around the neighborhood, enjoying the one day a week where they could have fun and didn't have to go to school or work.
Bucky smiled whenever memories of Steve popped into his head. He liked how, no matter what, he and Steve had stuck together, sharing whatever they had. If one of them got a new toy, he always shared it with the other, especially if it was a toy that was meant to be played with another boy. There were many happy hours spent together, tossing a baseball back and forth, or kicking a rubber ball around the large empty lot next to the building they lived in.
They even slept over at each other's apartment, once in a while. He remembered spreading piles of rags or blankets on the floor, the two of them talking quietly in the darkness of the room as one of their mothers slept in the next room. Sometimes their laughter became too loud, and they had to shush each other, so that they didn't wake that particular mother up.
But Bucky knew his mother hadn't been his only parent.
One week after Anna had served the pot roast, Bucky had experienced a day of remembering nothing of his past. He'd gone to bed angry and disappointed, his head aching from straining himself in his efforts to remember whatever he could, and coming up empty. He had spent his after-dinner hours putting dents into his punching bag, until he was too tired to keep going.
That night, and for a few nights that followed, the moment he fell asleep, he'd begun dreaming about a man he barely recognized.
The memories he did have indicated that his father had died when Bucky had been quite young, and that he hadn't known the man very well. Bucky attributed his lack of interest in his father to his lack of connection to him, but his desire to remember anything of his past seemed to bring forward what memories his mind had, no matter what they were.
At best, the memories of his dad were hazy. He saw a vague outline of a tall male figure offering him a ride on his knee, or a small piece of candy as a treat. There was even one with a baseball bat, but not as a means of punishment or a weapon –it had been of a father teaching his son to hit a ball.
The baseball lesson was the most detailed of his memories regarding his father. After that, the figure faded, and the one who replaced it was his mother, whose smile Bucky seemed to live for as a child.
Unfortunately, not all of his memories about his past were good ones. Sometimes, they came to him in dreams, rather than when he was awake and ready to handle them.
His memory of the day Steve's mother died was one of his more depressing recollections.
One night, as Bucky slept, his mind pulled forward a memory of him talking to Steve, the two of them saddened by the death of someone both of them cared so much for. Steve looked particularly pale, his posture hunched as he returned to an empty apartment that had once held the loving warmth of someone he loved.
Most of the conversation was hazy, but Bucky knew that he was doing his best to encourage his friend and to comfort him. The one thing he did remember was saying, "I'm with you, pal, until the end of the line."
It was the last thing that Steve had said, back on the final Helicarrier, before falling into the Potomac River. That was why that particular day, as well as the one back then, had stuck in his mind. They connected his past with his present, and had finally broken HYDRA's hold over him. Those two days, decades apart, were the reason why he was now free of the tortures HYDRA had put him through for so many years.
It was said that love was one of the strongest emotions on Earth, and that it could conquer almost anything. For Bucky, that had proved fairly true –fear and anger still raged inside him, but memories of Steve and their past together was slowly battling those emotions away.
Unfortunately, the death of Steve's mother was the last batch of memories Bucky's mind could bring forth. Even worse, anything from WWII was a blur –he couldn't remember anything that his exhibit in the Smithsonian mentioned.
Not that Bucky would let that stop him. In the past two weeks, he'd remembered more than he had ever thought possible, and he desperately wanted to know more, particularly when it came to serving with Steve.
Once, however, he had been so desperate that he had asked Anna to tell him what she knew about his past. She had refused. "Not until we're absolutely sure that we've tried every other way to access what we can," she'd said.
They were still using scents, food and even games to bring things out of the recesses of his mind, but on the days when nothing happened, he had to restrain himself from slamming his head (and his hand) against the wall out of sheer rage.
Such would frighten Anna, though, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was his only friend, and the thought of causing her to fear him stabbed like a red-hot knife in Bucky's heart. He always did his best to restrain himself, to only take his anger out on a punching bag in private than in front of her, but it wasn't easy; not when he was stuck inside a house with no way to get outside and channel his feelings in another way. It was like being in a cage, and he hated it –it was too much like when he had been with HYDRA, and that only brought out bad emotions, ones that he wanted to forget.
But the walls were starting to close in, and when that grew to be too much for him to handle, he knew there would be trouble.
So, after one particularly bad day, he suggested that his reward for his hard efforts ought to be a trip outside.
"That's a bad idea," she flatly said, after he'd made his suggestion.
He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not suggesting a night out drinking in bars, or running around Times Square," he retorted. "All I'm saying is that we could take a quick walk around. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee, or explore the neighborhood."
"We're supposed to stay hidden," she said. "Agent Romanoff said that the best way to keep safe was to stay inside. Besides, I've been stuck here longer than you have, and I'm okay."
Bucky sighed. "Yes, but now that I'm off of HYDRA's leash, I need to get out of here, before I come down with a bad case of cabin fever."
He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Anna? One trip down the street won't be too bad, would it? Or even some time out in the backyard?"
Not that there was much of a backyard, but it was still better than being stuck indoors. Just being out in green grass and under blue sky might do it for him, though a good long walk along a street would be better.
Barely holding on to his eagerness, he sat and watched as Anna stood there and thought about his suggestion for a good while. He could see that she didn't want to risk taking him out where someone might recognize him, but she obviously wanted to let him have his wish.
"I know that keeping you cooped up here isn't good for you," she slowly admitted. "As much as I want to do what Agent Romanoff told me, I know that if you get determined to leave, I won't be able to stop you."
She sighed and crossed her arms. "Okay, we'll go out, but first, let's lay out some ground rules."
To show his thanks at being let outside, Bucky was willing to accept any rules Anna had in mind.
Her first rule was simple: he was not to wander off without her. Although he was aware of modern technology, Anna was going on the assumption that Bucky wasn't prepared for today's society and culture.
He had to admit that she was fairly correct about this. His only exposure to the world had been when he was on assignment for HYDRA, which meant very little time to see how the world had changed. HYDRA had made sure that the only 'updates' he got about the world came from them, so he figured that everything he knew was either wrong, or was strictly HYDRA's version of it.
Anna's second rule was that he would do everything possible to hide his identity. This condition was one he was happy to agree to, since the last thing he wanted was attract HYDRA's attention. He shuddered to think what they would do if they discovered he was still alive, as well as what he was doing. They had tried everything to take away his past and his humanity –if they found out that he was undoing all their efforts to return to his former self, things would get rough for everyone.
Her third condition was that he had to do what she said. For a man who was used to following orders and being under constant watch, this could go two ways. After several weeks, Bucky was now learning how to function independently, and he very much enjoyed this newfound freedom. He could eat what he wanted (though Anna did her best to keep things healthy for the both of them), and he could eat pretty much when he wanted, without fear or punishment. The only thing he really feared was being caught sneaking some of Anna's favorite candies while she wasn't looking.
But on the other hand, he was accustomed to following orders, no questions asked. In theory, he should be able to do as she instructed, without difficulty. But as a man who was developing a taste for the freedom to choose to do things, it might end up being more difficult than he thought.
In the end, just so he could get what he wanted, he agreed to Anna's regulations.
She looked pleased, and promised that she'd try and keep things relaxed and fun for him while they were out-and-about.
"We won't be out for long," she warned him, "I don't want to over-stimulate you. We'll take a walk, possibly get a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and maybe come back."
"And groceries?" he asked hopefully, wondering how far he could push for a longer day out.
To his disappointment, she shook her head. "No, that sort of thing takes a while. We'll do just a quick hour or two; that's all."
Well, he'd tried. At least he would get the chance to go out, which was what mattered.
"I thought about having something set up outside in the backyard for you to do," she admitted, surprising him.
However, her next words squashed his hopes. "But I'm not sure if it's a good idea. If you exercise outside, you'd have to wear long-sleeve shirts and gloves, to cover your left arm. It might be okay during winter, but at this time of year, it would simply look odd."
Bucky tried to protest, but she stopped him. "Not to mention that people are going to notice you. Neighbors can be nosy, and if they become interested in you, they're going to want to come over and talk to you, which is the last thing we need."
Since all of her arguments made sense, he reluctantly agreed with her. Part of him wished that Phil Coulson had decided to move them to a remote location in the middle of nowhere, but that would make things even more difficult for them when it came to getting food and supplies.
"If you need more exercises to do, I can get you a jump rope, as well as one of those rowing exercise machines," she suggested.
Bucky immediately put down the idea of a jump rope, but the rowing machine sounded interesting. They agreed to wait a while, until he was sure he wanted one, and until they had a bit of money put by to pay for it.
"Okay, now that that's settled, I'm giving you the day off so that you can decide what kind of disguise you'd like to wear tomorrow," she said, shooing at him with her hands.
As much as he wished she would help him, Bucky felt rather proud that she trusted him to choose his own disguise for tomorrow. He could only hope that he didn't choose anything that would count as 'too much' for their short time out.
Well, there was only one way to find out how good his sense of taste was.
AN: Next time: a day out with Bucky and Anna! Please review?