I wanted to apologize for being absent for so long. It's been a busy month. I hope you all enjoy this chapter:) It's over 4,000 words:)

Counting Sinful Stars: Her appearance will be described in this chapter.

Iinvalidzz: Thank you! I hope this chapter lives up to the previous!

kamiccolo's rose: Thank you!

angel897: I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Countess Delos: I was so worried it was going to be too far fetched, but everyone seems to like it so far!:)

JustKeepSmilingRainbow: Wait no longer. Chapter 5 is up:)

BrokenAngel1753: When I was figuring out the ages I had planned on Nadene being younger at 25, but wanted her to be older. My math was correct, but not for the age I had described in the passage. I'm truly sorry about that! I'll try to correct it as best I can since I want her to be 27 because James is "27", but since it's been a few years since the first Captain America he's technically closer to 30. And I'm overjoyed that you're liking this story so far. I was a bit worried about it since I've never written a CA fic and I don't know much about the comics. I'm going solely off of what's happened in the movies and what little I've been able to incorporate into the fic from the comics. Thelma and James' life will be known eventually. I'm still working on their backstory, but Bucky/James will be saying a few things that hint to what it was like with Thelma. And soon Nadene will be going on a hunt of her own.

He hasn't come out since last night. I didn't want to leave him down here without food for the entire day while I was working so, I rounded up the courage to venture down into the spooky basement. I hardly came down here anymore- I mean when I had laundry to do I'd come down, but even that was quick.

The tray was heavy with a mountain of cheesy eggs, bacon and buttered toast with some garlic and herbs. A glass was filled with cold ice water and it was hard to balance it all. As I cautiously made my way down the old rickety steps I hoped I didn't fall. The water sloshed out of the tall glass and spilled against my hand causing me to loose my balance on the last step. My heeled foot jutted out and landed awkwardly on the ankle as I stumbled for balance. My hold on the tray tightened as I fell and I hit the ground with a scream and an awkward grunt.

"Shit," I hissed at the pain in my left ankle and the contents of the breakfast I had made stuck in my hair.

"Shit, fucking great," I groaned rolling around onto my back I propped myself up on my elbows and grimaced. I looked past my wet dress to see my ankle through the cut outs on the heel of the shoe, it is black and blue.

"Damn it,"

The door to the back room opens and I see a pair of boots. James stood before me and smirked.

"Missed the step?" He asked.

I nodded,"I was bringing you breakfast,"

He saw me cringe and the tears flood my eyes as the pain intensified. I watched him sit on his knees at my feet and grasp my heel in his hands. His fingers were warm against my dark skin as he felt at the flesh. James started mid shin and worked his way down, his fingers stilling when I kicked my foot in his lap and cried out. His one hand was still gloved and I wondered if he was just badly injured like a burn or something.

"It's broken," He stated calmly.

"You can tell by just looking at it?" I snapped.

"Your ankle is swollen and your skin is bruised," He told me looking up at me through a curtain of dark hair,"Tell tale signs of a broken bone,"

I sucked in a breath at the sight of his bright blue eyes. My stomach flopped and my core fluttered. I remembered how he felt against me and bit my lip. I just realized the position we were in. I was on my back, on my elbows watching him hold my foot in his lap and my dress was hiked up and my legs were parted.

I quickly pulled my foot away and attempted to stand James stood up as well. The minute I applied pressure to my foot it gave out and I tumbled forward.

"Damn it!" I hissed as James grabbed me by the waist to steady me. I swatted his hand away and made my way to the steps. I hopped up the first and the second-made it halfway up until I was out of breath. It wheezed past parted lips and I could feel the small of my back dampen with sweat. My grip on the banister tightened and I sighed turning to look over my shoulder at James, who had picked up the broken glass and dishes and he was setting them on the dresser when I called to him.

"Uh, can you help me, please?" I asked my voice wavering as another pang of pain greeted me.

James looked at me for a long time his brow was furrowed and his jaw tight. He seemed to be trying to get his bearings before he came up, he wanted his mind in the present.

When he finally decided to move towards me my heart was beating fast. I needed to get my own mind right. This man was dangerous and something was wrong with his memory. Those kisses, the love in his eyes weren't for me. I needed to get that out of my head. James stood tall even on the step behind me. I could feel his body heat and his breath as he sucked in air through parted lips to blow it out his nose. He slipped his non gloved hand around my waist and I was surprised when he placed his other hand under my knees, bringing me up. I was startled and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He pulled me flush against him and began to walk up the stairs. I know I'm a small, short woman, but I've had my fair share of chocolate bars and late night snacks, but he carries me with such ease. I try not to look at his face much. His hair is a dark brown, wavy and long. It brushes against my arms and I wonder what he'd look like if he pulled it into a ponytail, or a half updo or one of those mini messy guy buns. Lost in my thought I hadn't realized that he was walking outside my house until I heard a bird.

"Woah! You didn't have to take me out here, James," I chided trying to wiggle from his arms, but he only held me tighter and walked to my jeep. He opened the passenger door, I really should start locking my doors, and set me in the seat. Without any words he handed me my seatbelt and shut the door.

I looked out the back and saw him go back inside to return with the hoodie he had on when I first saw him and my purse.

My ankle had dulled to a slow throb with sharp pains shooting throughout. I reached for it instinctively like my hold on it was going to make it better. I watched him open the driver door, pull on his hoodie, and get in slamming the door loudly.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

James put the key in the ignition and turned to me,"Starting your car," as if to make it any more obvious he turned the key and the engine growled to life.

"Why?"

"Your ankle is broken,"

"I can throw some ice on it, pop some ibuprofen, wrap it and wear my converses for support. No biggie. I have to get to work," I responded reaching for the door handle, but James had pulled out of my long driveway.

"You did that on purpose,"

"Your ankle is broken," he repeated.

I sighed and crossed my arms. I decided to reach for my purse and call my manager, of course the one time I needed to reach him he doesn't answer.

"Motherfucker!" I said tossing my phone back into my purse.

James turned to me when we were stopped at a light. I looked back hoping he was going to look away. He was just looking at me. And he kept looking at me.

"Are you going to drive or just stare at me all day?" I gestured to the now green light.

"The Hospital is still behind that tall bookstore?" He asked.

"It's a daycare now, but yeah it's still there," I glanced at him,"You've been there before?"

He didn't say anything, but I noted how his hands tightened on the steering wheel and decided not to push it. Every now and then I would sneak glances at him. He had attacked me and caused me harm just this week, but now, the following Monday of a very stressful week and a weird 'I thought you were Thelma' make out, he's driving me to the Hospital like-like a man from the Fourties. The thought hit me like the pain in my ankle. All at once and it lingered.

I needed to find more out about the relationship they had. I needed to know what happened to him, why he didn't look ninety years old, why he wore just one glove, and why his mind was a mess and only my grandmother seemed to be the one constant in his brain. I could just ask him, but that could cause him to freak and I really needed to get to the Hospital. I'll ask him when we get home.

He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine tucking my keys into his left pocket. As he got out and made his way around to me I tugged my purse over my shoulder and opened my door. I guess I was too slow for him because he reached across me and undid my seatbelt. With ease he pulled me from my seat and into his arms.

"You don't have to carry me! I can walk," I said.

"No you can't," he was blunt,"We're too far for you to hop all the way there, Nadene. I can carry you. No ones out here,"

I shut my mouth and frowned at him,"Fine, but if you're going to carry me, make sure I'm not flashing anyone," I sarcastically said.

James was caught off guard by my words and I could feel his fingers beneath my legs feel for the skirt of my dress.

"Hey! Don't check. It was a joke, I don't feel a draft. You're good,"

He only nodded and carried me up to the doors. And for some reason he set me down right outside the doors and moved away from me as if I were fire. Then I realized that he's only ever known the Fourties and their racism. I reached for him and he jerked back frowning at me.

"James,-," but the doors slid open and a nurse was next to me. She must've seen him carry me up because she had a wheelchair and was coaxing me into it. The pain seemed to flare up more now that I was in the hands of medical doctors. I looked over my shoulder to see James pop up his hood as a cop car drove past. He didn't even glance back at me just walked back to my jeep.

I tapped on the window and his eyes fluttered open. He reached to roll down the window, but frowned at all the buttons and decided on just opening the door.

"Crutches?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I broke it pretty badly. You were right as much as I didn't want to believe it. I'm going to hate these things-wish I didn't have them," I explained to him when he eyed the crutches under my arms,"I also have the greatest pain pills ever," I smiled at him.

A silence spread across us and I sighed,"You could have come in with me,"

"No, I couldn't have,"

"James, Racism is illegal now. It's been illegal since 1964," I told him.

"I know that. They made me watch a historical documentary," He shot back.

"Oh, then why did you not come in?"

"I don't know you and there are cameras," he swung the door shut ending our conversation.

I stood there watching him through the glass. I hobbled to the other side and pulled myself in after tossing the crutches in the back.

James didn't say anything just started the car and drove off.

I bit my lip and kept glancing at him.

"Would you like to get to know me?" I asked. That question had been swimming around in my head for minutes before I actually said it. I don't know why I wanted to help him so badly. Maybe it was because he knew my grandmother and he was apart of something Super Hero-ish. Everyone knows of the Avengers and the Battle of New York.

"No,"

"What? You're the one who attacked me and demanded I tell you where she was, my Grandmother that is. You even kissed me with the idea that I was her. I know you're some big shot villain/enemy person because all that black does not scream Patriotism or 'I'm here to fight the bad guys' you even wear a glove on one hand. One hand. Look, I saw the reports in DC, James. I've gone through hell this week and haven't run to the cops-except for that one time, but not after that. Have you stopped to wonder why? I want to help you. So why the hell would you say no?" I seethed the anger of this past week had bubbled up and exploded.

James pulled into my driveway and turned to me, both of his hands were still gripping the wheel. His eyes were ablaze with the anger I've come to fear and I stilled as his steely blue eyes bore into me.

"You look like her. Too much like her," He said,"You have her nose, her smile and her dark skin. Every time I look at you I see Thelma. The only thing keeping you from becoming her fully are your eyes. They're the only thing not the same. Too light, so no, I don't want to get to know the woman who looks like the woman I will never see again," James told me.

I huffed and blew out hot air glancing out the window before turning to him,"Why are you telling me this? You've never said more than five words to me. I know you're hurting-I can see it, but in order for you to get better, in order for me to help you I need you to trust me. And trusting comes with knowing," I had decided that yelling at him could only trigger another episode so I took the calmer approach. He was still gripping the steering and his jaw was still tight as he lulled over my words.

"I don't need your help,"

"And yet you keep coming back,"

James looked at me and I saw the change in his face. His muscles weren't rigid with anger anymore instead they had relaxed just a bit. It didn't last long because his face hardened again and he opened the door slamming it shut behind him.

He didn't even ask if I needed help inside.

He was upstairs in the attic. His legs were dangling form the opening in the ceiling. I hadn't even realized he was up there until I came upstairs myself to go to lay in bed and watch sappy Lifetime Movies. I stood underneath his legs looking up with a hand on the stairs wondering if I should go up. He seemed to have relaxed a bit around me. He wasn't freaking out as much as before and I hoped it was because he was getting used to me or maybe tired of scaring me to death?

"What are you looking for?" I asked him and he peered down at me.

"A picture of her," He said.

I listened to him shuffle around the many photos on the floor above. There were so many of her- why was he still looking?

James came down the ladder and he stepped down beside me holding out a photo of my young grandmother.

I did look like her. More than my mother had and I was mixed with Italian. My mother had met my father when she had gone to study abroad for College in Italy in the early '70s. My mother was darker than me-so was my grandmother, but I had the same jawline as she did. My lips were fuller than hers and I was shorter and not as developed. Our hair was different, mine was curlier and lighter and the muddy brown tone really made my hazel eyes pop. I was a good mix of my parents- with my mothers wide eyes and my father straight nose I couldn't be mistaken for anyone else's child, but as I stared at the photo of my grandmother my mind ran through all the ways I could have been mistaken for her. I can see why he was so taken aback by me.

"I guess you're right. I do look like her," I said.

"Yes, you do," James said and I glanced up at him to see a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips as his eyes gazed at the photo in his hands.

"Would you like to see what she looked like older? I can show you her family? My mother? I think she looks more like Thelma then I do," I quickly asked.

His alluring blue eyes snapped to me and they were wide with what I guessed was excitement," Yes, I would,"

I smiled, "Put the stairs up and meet me in my room. I have the photo album on my bookshelf,"

As I made my way into my room to retrieve my photo album I was worried that James seeing Thelma with another man would cause him problems, but when he sat down on the floor beside my bed, he said no to sitting next to me on it, and I let him flip through the pages he only asked question after question. He was curious to see the life of his lover after he had "died". He was happy that she had found someone else even said it was better that it was someone of her own race because he knew he wouldn't be able to protect her as much as he would need to. I was tempted to ask him about their life together, how their affair had started, but I decided against it when he was staring at her wedding photo.

"She looks happy," He said his fingers tracing her fine silhouette,"Not as happy as when she was with me, but happy none the less,"

"She loved my grandfather very much even after he died never re-married," I explained from my seat on the bed. I was laying down next to him leaning over the edge to watch him go through the album.

"He died young?"

"He was shot and killed in '62. My mother was only twelve and my grandmother was a widow and a single mother. She was very strong throughout it and my mom always says she was strict and taught her that race didn't matter. I think that's why my mother had found my father so appealing. She didn't see him as white or Italian, but as a man," I told him.

"I don't see you as white. I see you as a man," James said softly.

"Yeah, that's what she always told her. My mom used to tell my dad that all the time,"

"She said that to me when she brought me to lunch to meet her parents," James' voice had taken on a low tone as if he was remembering, but I noticed how loose his body was and the recognition in his eyes when he looked at me.

Oh no. I watched with wide eyes when he sat up on his knees in front of me and I sucked in a breath when his fingers grazed my cheek. Just then I heard banging on my door downstairs and James went rigid, his eyes darkening as he blinked. The banging kept going and I could faintly hear Bethany yelling for me to open up. I sat frozen in place at the look on James' face. He was angry.

"Stop screaming at me. Stop it," He seethed his chest rising and falling heavily as he gripped the edge of the bed.

"No one's yelling at you, James," I quickly told him. He can't have an episode now. Not when Bethany is downstairs and I can't run.

"I can hear them. They're saying things. Saying he's not my friend. He let me die," His eyes were screwed shut and he was shaking.

"He didn't let you die, James. You're safe," I needed to calm him down before he went ape-shit and kills me.

His eyes snapped open and his hands shot out and gripped the sleeves of my dress, "But he did. He let me die," He yelled pulling me from the bed. My casted foot hit the ground and I screamed out in pain as he lifted me up by my dress.

"You let them take me, Thelma! What happened to our plan, huh? What happened!" He hollered tossing me to the ground.

My shoulder hit the corner of my desk and stars danced before me as I tried to concentrate on the figure stalking towards me. I rolled away from his grasp and crawled as best I could to my doorway. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I felt his hand wrap around my ankle and pull me back. SHIT. He was standing above me his hair hanging down around his face casting beautiful shadows across his handsome features. His hands wrapped around my throat and at first he didn't apply any pressure, but then I felt it and it was excruciating. The banging below had ended and I was left in silence and my shallow breathing. I tried to choke out words, but it wasn't working. My hands swatted at his chest, his arms. My fingers caught onto the hem of his leather arm sleeve and I pulled with all my might. If I got him off balance for just a bit I could land a swift kick to his balls.

I needed to hurry my mind was beginning to throw out random things I've never down and my vision was blurring. My brain was dimming from the lack of air. My fingers imbedded themselves into the fabric and I pulled. A tearing sound exploded in my ears and James had looked down at his sleeve surprised I had managed to do that. Caught off guard I brought my shin up hard between his legs and he growled and fell off of me. I gasped for breath, it filled my lungs so quickly I almost had no idea what to do with it. All my senses shifted back to normal and my vision was clear as I fell onto my side coughing desperately as my fingers felt at my throat. We really needed to figure out how to control that fucking temper of his before he actually does kill me. Maybe meditation? Relaxing Chai tea? A fucking straight jacket?

That's when I hear it.

The sobs.

I turn my gaze from my scratched up dirty floor to see James with his back against the bed, his head bowed, and his hand clutching at his arm.

His metal arm.

"Oh my God," I rasp out and his head lifts showing me his eyes are red and his face is wet.

"Look at what they did to me, Thelma," He croaked.

I could only stare at him when he raised his arms beckoning me to climb into them. My body wanted to move- I was screaming for it too, but I was too scared to pull myself across this floor and feel his cold metal arm wrap around me. I know he needed it. He needed his 'Thelma' to comfort him, but I'm not his Thelma. I never will be.

His face was stoic and haunting, but his eyes screamed at me.

He just bowed his head and let the tears flow.

Here's a bit of a background on her parents.

Thelma had her daughter, Sheila when she was 32 in 1950. Her Husband Gerald died when Sheila was 12 in 1962. Thelma never remarried.

Sheila met her Husband Luca in the Summer of '74 during her last year of College when her and some friends studied abroad in Italy. They stayed in touch and didn't get together until 1979 when Sheila found out she was pregnant with Nadene's older sister Loretta. Luca and Sheila married in 1980 and Nadene was born in 1987.

A reviewer BrokenAngel1753 had noticed that the dates and ages didn't match as I explained above that was a complete accident. So I changed it to where Nadene is 15 instead of 12 when her grandmother died so the age adds up to what I originally had.

I'll go back and fix it in the first couple chapters, too.

And how did you all like this chapter? If I'm reaching in any way let me know and I'll try to make it a bit more believable. I wanted this to be filled with a lot of angst and drama, but I thought that 1940's Bucky could shine through just a tad bit.

Please leave a review! I love hearing form you guys!