A/N: You guys continue to blow me away with your reviews and how amazing you all are :D you guys are the best and I hope you like this chapter. The drama's not nearly over yet, and I'm excited for the stuff coming on the horizon :D let me know what you guys think, and I'll see you all soon! Thank you so, so much for reading :D (and if anyone would like a break from the drama and read something a bit different from my usual fare, I recently posted a oneshot called Yes Ma'am that might be of interest to some of you guys lol) *giant hugs to each of you*

Summer winced as the surgeon sitting to her left finished up the stitches on the gash in her forehead. She was exhausted and sad and worried and still in immense shock over the day's events, and it wasn't even five in the afternoon yet.

"All done," the surgeon, a woman in her thirties named Dr. Lin said, discarding her gloves and standing after giving Summer a small pat. "I did the best I could, but you might still have a small scar. Shouldn't be too noticeable, though."

Summer nodded, knowing she'd never get lucky enough to walk away without a reminder of what had happened. "Thank you."

"Now, one last thing," the doctor said, reaching into a cabinet and grabbing a small cup that she then handed to Summer. "Just to be safe."

Summer stared at the cup dejectedly before taking it and glancing at Natasha, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and watching over everything. She was the reason why a highly over-qualified surgeon had seen to Summer's stitches instead of a nurse or a less trained doctor. She gave Summer a sympathetic look and said, "You know they have to check."

"I know, I just... I don't even want to think about that," Summer sighed, turning the cup over and staring at it. "Because if I was and Bucky accidentally... if what he did..."

"Look," Dr. Lin said comfortingly, "It's just a precaution. No need to get ahead of yourself. Just go ahead and fill it up. Sooner you do, the sooner you can put your mind at ease."

Summer nodded and decided that the doctor was right. She stood up from the exam seat, wincing a bit at the pain in her back as she did, and then she trudged off to the nearest bathroom to do her part for an obligatory pregnancy test. She was pretty sure that she wasn't pregnant, but the chance was there. With how clingy the kids were as of late and the stress of the trial taking its toll, she and Bucky didn't sleep together with nearly the same frequency as before, but it still happened at least once a week. And that was more than enough to make taking a test necessary, to err on the side of caution.

Meanwhile, as Summer prayed that her oven was bun-less, Bucky was holed up in an empty office and sitting against one of its walls with a thousand yard stare. His knees were drawn up and his arms draped over them, his thoughts running wild as his mind tried to adjust to being completely restored.

It was like seeing the world through both brand new and very old eyes. Everything was so clear now - everything - and it was terrifying and bizarre and overwhelming.

He could remember Rebecca's first words. He remembered her face, her laugh, everything about her so perfectly now, where before her image had always come in mostly fuzzy flashes here and there. He remembered his mother and father. He remembered his first girlfriend, and his second and his third. He remembered it all.

And that meant that he now remembered things that he'd give anything to forget again. Like the surgery. The torture. Each and every last death that he had ever caused.

He closed his eyes and brought his hands to his head. God he just wanted to forget again. He wanted to go back to how it had been before, but he couldn't now. Now he was whole again, and he felt different. He felt like a strange, upside-down and twisted version of himself, like he had been walking around half asleep for five years and was now suddenly awake for the first time.

It just made everything hurt worse. He felt a deeper sense of shame now for every life he had taken and all the pain that he had never meant to cause. He felt like the lowest of the low, like every name and curse that the protestors outside of the courthouse liked to hurl at him were completely true.

And yet somehow the worst thing of all - the thing that he knew he'd never forgive himself for - was hurting the woman he loved.

He knew he hadn't been in his right mind. He had looked her right in the eye and had not recognized her at all. But that didn't matter to him. The details were just that - details that didn't matter, in his opinion. What mattered was that it was by his own hand that Summer had been thrown into a a wall, and there was simply no excuse for that. It made his heart ache to think of what else he could have done had he not been stopped, and how much worse it could have been.

She'd forgive him in a heartbeat, he knew. She probably already had, but somehow that made it even worse. Knowing that later, she would probably hug and kiss him and tell him that it was fine and she was fine and that it hadn't been his fault... God, he couldn't stand it. He had an irrational need for someone to yell and scream at him and tell him that it was he was to blame for once, but he knew nobody would do it. He himself was the only one who would provide that service.

Bucky's head shot up when he heard the door to the office slowly creak open. He watched and was unsurprised when Steve's head was the one to pop inside the room, peering in cautiously until he caught sight of Bucky.

"Hey," he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "You okay?"

Bucky shook his head, looking away and staring ahead. "No."

"I know," Steve muttered quietly. He made his way to Bucky and sat down beside him, leaning back against the wall. "I don't know what to say."

Bucky didn't either. After a moment's silence, he asked without looking at Steve, "Is Summer okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Steve assured him. "She's with Dr. Lin right now, getting stitched up. She wasn't hurt badly."

"Could have been," Bucky muttered.

"But she wasn't."

Bucky stifled a sigh. "Wanda?"

"I just checked on her," Steve replied. "She's still with Vision. He calmed her down enough for a doctor to look at her. They gave her some kind of mild sedative. Her heart rate was high at first, but she's resting now."

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, still feeling like Wanda's mind was tangled with his even though the connection had been severed more than an hour ago. He could still feel her emotions, see her memories like they were his own, and it was incredibly unnerving. Especially considering that he was trying to get used to suddenly having all of his own memories back.

"She took a big risk, doing what she did," Steve said. When Bucky didn't answer, Steve looked at him and said quietly, "I thought you were gone."

"I was," he muttered, still staring ahead. "I was gone."

Steve drew a deep breath, looking down and then asking, "You know it's not your fault, right? None of this was your fault."

"Never is," Bucky muttered miserably, giving a small shrug of his shoulder. "Nothing's ever my fault."

Steve looked at him with concern. "Bucky..."

"Just... don't," Bucky said, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the wall. "I don't wanna hear it."

"But it's the truth," Steve said.

"Doesn't matter. I could have killed everybody in that room. If I had snapped Summer's neck instead of just throwing her, you'd be telling David that I killed his mother right now instead of sitting next to me and trying to make me feel better."

"Doesn't matter," Steve shot back gently. "Because you didn't do that."

"But I could. I still could. Maybe there's other shit buried in my head. Maybe I'll wake up again and forget who I am and I will kill her. Or David or Addie. Or all of them. Maybe -"

"Stop," Steve interrupted. "Don't do that to yourself."

"Why not?" Bucky asked, finally turning to glare at his best friend. "Somebody has to. I swear I can't take one more fucking minute of hearing how I'm innocent and how nothing I've done is my fault."

"If you really have all your memories back," Steve replied, "then you know that you're innocent. It's not something I say because I want to believe it. I believe it because it's true."

Bucky merely shrugged and looked away again. "You're all better off without me. Every one of you. Should have just stayed dead in '45."

Steve clenched his jaw and leaned forward, looking at Bucky with narrowed eyes and a deadly serious expression. "All right. You wanna have a pity party, I get that. I do. You have every right to feel the way that you do. But you have a family now, Bucky, and whether you think they're better off without you or not, it's too late to go back now. So you've gotta get up and keep going. You've gotta keep fighting. If you can't do it for yourself, then you do it for them and you do it for everyone else who cares about you."

Bucky reluctantly met the other man's gaze then, wanting to argue and wanting to just shake the man until he stopped having this undying faith in him. But at the same time, he wanted to grab him and hug him and spend the next several hours talking about all the new things that he could remember from their older, much simpler lives.

He looked at Steve now and could see him so much more clearly than he had before. He saw the bony little boy that he had met at elementary school and the headstrong teen who started working odd jobs wherever he could from a terribly young age to help his mom pay the bills. He could remember all the times he'd been sick, all the times Bucky had feared he might just stop breathing in his sleep or during one of his frequent asthma attacks, but even more importantly, he remembered all the good times. He remembered laughter and joy and feeling like he was one of the luckiest guys in the city to be able to call Steve his best friend.

And it all made him hate being a burden on Steve even more than he already had before.

"One of these days," he told Steve quietly, "something's gonna happen. I'm gonna go too far, do something awful. And you're not gonna be able to defend me anymore. None of you are."

Steve shook his head. "That's not gonna happen. I know you. I know you better than anybody."

"Then you should know better than anyone else how much HYDRA's still got a hold on me," Bucky replied through gritted teeth. "Five years away from them and one word - one fucking word - and I'm trying to kill you again and I hurt my wife."

"That prosecutor triggered you on purpose," Steve replied. "He's trying to prove that you're dangerous."

"Well, he did," Bucky said. "And he's right."

Steve paused and, clearly fatigued by Bucky's insistence on taking on all of the blame for something that Steve would never cease defending him for, replied, "Only if you prove he's right. And I mean now that you're you again. He's only right if you let him be."

"Maybe not," Bucky mused. "Maybe some part of me's always gonna be HYDRA's. Maybe I'm too fucking damaged. Maybe I should be locked up."

Steve didn't hesitate. "I don't believe that."

"I'm not what I was," Bucky shrugged. He knew that now better than ever, having such a clearer memory of who he had been before war had come and made a killer out of him.

"I know," Steve said. "Neither am I."

"Yeah," Bucky muttered, looking away and shaking his head. "You got even stupider."

Steve breathed out a short chuckle. "Now you're sounding like yourself again."

Bucky didn't quite smile back, but some of the anger and darkness left his eyes for a moment. "Why'd you come here?"

"To talk you down off the ledge," Steve replied. "And to drag you back to the doctor. They need to look you over. They'll probably want to watch you for the night. Just a precaution."

Bucky sighed and nodded shortly. "Summer probably doesn't want me home right now anyway."

Steve furrowed his brows and shook his head then, telling Bucky gently, "She's shaken up, but she's not scared of you."

"The look on her face could have fooled me," Bucky said through a mild grimace. "She should be scared of me." He paused before forcing himself up and getting back on his feet. "I am."

Steve sighed, giving his friend a pat on his right shoulder in an attempt to be at least somewhat comforting. Bucky looked at him and felt that urge to grab Steve and hug him return, and it was so strange because hugging wasn't something they did very often these days. But that had been different back in those earlier years, and now that instinct was back.

He ignored it, however, and simply fell into step next to Steve as he led him out of the office and into the hallway. He didn't want to deal with any doctors, but it was best to just get it over it as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, as they headed back to the medical wing, Summer was watching the door to her own exam room open and the Dr. Lin walk through with a smile.

"Good news," she said. "You're not pregnant."

Summer let out a deeply relieved breath and looked at Natasha, who appeared just as relieved. "Thank God."

"Yep, so no further testing or imaging is necessary," the doctor said. "Just take it easy for a few days and make sure and keep your cuts clean. That bruise on your back is gonna be there awhile, but it'll heal soon enough. You're gonna be sore in the morning, but I went down to the pharmacy and had these filled for you."

She then handed Summer a bottle of painkillers, nothing too strong but definitely better than anything sold over the counter. "Oh. Thanks."

"They'll help you sleep, too," Dr. Lin nodded. "Feel better, okay?"

"Okay, I'll try," Summer smiled, and after the doctor said her farewells and left, she let the smile drop from her face immediately. "God, I hate all of this."

"I hate Brock Rumlow," Natasha stated casually.

Summer shook her head, staring down absently at the bottle of pills. "I still can't believe that guy's still finding ways to try to ruin our lives. I've never even seen him but I hate him more than I think I've ever hated anyone."

"He's a real piece of work," Natasha agreed. Then she paused and, after contemplating something for a moment, she said, "He asked me out once."

Summer made an ew face and looked at her friend in surprise. "Did you say yes?"

Natasha gave her a look. "Please. Not my type."

Summer smiled slightly and nodded with relief, looking back down at her hands. "Too bad you never tripped and accidentally broke his neck."

"Too bad," Nat agreed, walking a few steps towards her and gesturing with her head towards the door. "Come on. Let's go."

After getting to her feet and wincing a little at the soreness that she could already feel radiating from her lower back and through her limbs, Summer asked, "Go where?"

"Well," Natasha said, looking down at her phone and the latest text she'd received from Steve, "looks like Bucky's being looked at now. So I say we go and grab something to eat, and then you can see him and talk after the doctors are done."

Now out in the hallway, Summer shook her head and said, "I'm really not hungry..."

"You have to eat anyway," Natasha replied, leaving no room for argument. "Besides, your lawyers are waiting in the cafeteria to talk about all the chaos from earlier."

Summer furrowed her brows. "Where did Foggy go? He wasn't there when Bucky woke up and... went crazy."

"He left to go and get a cup of coffee," Natasha replied. "Then Matt showed up, and they were on their way back to the room when a nurse stopped them and told them it wasn't safe."

"Oh." Summer paused. "How do you know all that?"

Natasha held up her phone and smiled. "Somebody had to take care of things over the last few hours while you were in your deep, dark pit of angst."

Summer smiled gratefully and then sighed, "God, I love you."

Natasha smiled back. "Yeah, I know."

While Summer forced herself to eat at least a portion of a full meal while discussing the rather horrifying details of what had occurred with Bucky's lawyers, Bucky sat and endured a seemingly endless mountain of questions from various doctors. His own therapist was there and had something of an emergency session with him, and he was stunned to learn of Bucky's full memory recovery. A top neurologist also performed a lengthy exam and wanted to order a scan of his brain to compare it to previous ones, but Bucky was in no mood to lay perfectly still in an enclosed space for such images to be taken, so that was delayed for the time being.

Bucky hated every last minute of it, but he endured it all the same. He agreed to see Dr. Connor again in two days and start seeing him with greater frequency, now that they had much more to navigate through when it came to the winding maze that was Bucky's mind.

When the revolving door of doctors seemed to finally come to an end, that was when the door opened one more time and Bucky glanced up to see a much more familiar face cautiously peek inside the room. It was Summer, with Natasha just behind her.

"Hey," Summer said quietly, eyes flitting back and forth between Bucky and Steve for a moment. She was waiting for permission, and Steve gave it to her in the form of a slight nod. He hated that she felt the need to hesitate and wait for someone's okay in the first place.

She walked inside then, looking away for a moment and carrying something in a small paper bag. "I, um... I brought you both some food, so... yeah." She handed the bag to Steve, who gave her his thanks and then set on the standard issue patient tray sitting next to the bed Bucky was sitting on. She then stood there, clearly full of nerves and unsure of what to say or do, and Bucky found that looking her in the eyes was almost impossible.

"All right, well, we'll give you two a few minutes alone," Steve said, jumping up from his seat before anyone could protest. He then took Natasha's hand and steered them out of the patient room, calling over his shoulder that they'd be outside if they needed anything. Then the door was shut, and Bucky finally managed to look Summer in the eye.

She looked like hell, and not just because of the cut in her forehead that made shame bubble up in him all over again. She looked exhausted and pale and so nervous that he could almost feel it. She hadn't been this fidgety with him in ages, maybe not ever, but she had good reason to be.

"So," she finally said, heading towards the bedside chair that Steve had vacated, "they want you to stay here overnight?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just to be safe."

She nodded and stood rather than sit down in the chair. "Okay. If you want, I could stay here with you. I don't know if they'd let me stay in the room, but..."

"No," Bucky muttered. "No, you should go home. Be with the kids. They never sleep well without you there."

Summer nodded, neither of them looking at the other for a moment before she sighed and finally stopped trying to ignore the elephant in the room. "Look, about what happened -"

"Don't," he quietly interrupted, briefly meeting her gaze before looking away. "I already know what you're gonna say and I don't..." He trailed off and clenched his jaw, not wanting to say anything more.

"Fine," she said with a small shrug. "Then I won't stand here and try to make you feel better. It was scary as hell. You scared me to death," she told him, her voice immediately getting a little wobbly with her admission, but only a little. "I thought that you were gone for good and that you weren't gonna remember me or the kids or anything ever again. And I've been through some really bad things before, but that scared me more than anything I've ever seen."

When Bucky refused to look up or anywhere in her general direction, Summer sat down on the bed and faced him so that he had no choice but to look at her. She reached out and touched the side of his face, cupping his jaw a little and finding it a relief when he didn't turn away from her touch.

"I know you," she said softly, "and I know you're gonna have a lot of guilt over this. I can't say anything to make that go away. I know that. But it's okay. What happened today, it's okay."

He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. "No it's not."

"It's not okay that they did that to you," Summer clarified, "but we all know it wasn't you. I know you had no control over yourself."

"How does that make it any better?" he asked her, eyes slightly wide with emotions that she knew were wreaking havoc on him.

"I don't think better's the right word," she said quietly. "It's just..."

"Don't," he shook his head, reaching up and taking her hand to pull it away from his face. "Someone said one word and I turned into a monster. And you were the first one I hurt."

"I'm fine," she tried to assure him, her tone a little desperate.

"I threw you into a wall," Bucky reminded her, "just because you touched my hand. I could have killed you."

"But -"

"We could have been sitting at home," Bucky went on, "and you could have been helping David with his history book, said that one fucking word, and I could have killed all of you when I woke up."

"Yeah, and you could have strangled me to death a million times in your sleep by now, but you haven't," she replied, trying to take his hand. He pulled it away so she couldn't. "Bucky, stop."

He shook his head, staring at the wall. Summer let out a breath of impatience and leaned a little closer, reaching out and taking his face in both of her hands. Forcing him to look her in the eye, she told him in the most firm and non-shaky voice that she could manage in that moment, "Listen to me. I know that today was absolute hell and if you really do have your whole memory back, you're probably remembering beyond horrible things and I know you're hurting. I know that. I can't even imagine how bad it is. But you can't shut me out now because if the trial doesn't go our way, then these are the last few months that I'm gonna have with you. And I don't want us to spend that time like this."

Her voice cracked slightly on the last few words, and his previously stony eyes softened a bit. They had both been taking such care to avoid talking about that, about what would happen if he was convicted and put away for life, but maybe it was time to stop pretending like that wasn't a real possibility.

"Please don't shut me out," she added more quietly. She watched him close his eyes and frown before he reached for her, and then he was pulling her into an embrace that she hadn't even realized she desperately needed until she was in the midst of it. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand on the back of his head as she closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her ear, his right hand running down over the back of her hair.

She shook her head against him, her voice slightly muffled as she replied, "It wasn't you."

For a moment, everything was almost okay again. He felt a little better with her in his arms, and she felt incredibly relieved that he was him again and he wasn't pushing her away. But the moment was short lived, cut off when Bucky's hand drifted down over her back and Summer involuntarily tensed in pain. She hadn't meant to, but she couldn't help it.

Bucky noticed, of course, and drew away to look at her with concern. She tried to wave him off. "It's fine. I'm fine."

He was unsurprisingly not convinced. He looked at her with dread in his eyes and muttered, "Turn."

"Bucky, I really don't -"

"Just do it, please," he said through slightly gritted teeth.

Summer gave up and shifted so that her back was facing towards him. He reached out and gently pushed up the bottom of her shirt, revealing an incredibly ugly and large purple bruise on her lower back. It stretched from one side to the other, painful and tender to the lightest touch, and Bucky stared at it for a moment before dropping her shirt and looking away.

Summer knew what would happen next if she didn't do something. He'd drift off in his own head or stand up and start wandering aimlessly about the room, mentally beating himself up all over again, and she didn't want to let that happen. Before he could get lost in the dark again, she pulled his face towards hers again and told him, "I know it looks bad. All of this looks bad but it's... it's not the end of the world. I'm okay. Just cuts and bruises."

It was obvious by the pained way that he looked at her that he didn't believe what she was saying, but that was what she expected. He just needed time. In time he'd see that it really wasn't the end of the world. They just had to get through this initial rough spot, and then he'd see that she really was fine and that he wasn't going to wake up one day and start randomly slaughtering everyone in the room.

She pulled him back to her, kissing his forehead before throwing her arms around him again. She wished that she could make it all go away and make him feel better again, but some things were just beyond her reach. All she could do was make sure he knew that he wasn't alone and that she wasn't scared of him, and help him in anyway that she could moving forward.

"I love you," she murmured, still holding him close. "I could kill that guy for doing this to you."

Bucky, clutching her just as tightly in return, didn't answer with words but rather with his actions as he buried his face against her neck. She felt him breathe in, the scent of her hair always grounding and comforting when he needed something familiar to hang on to. It made her feel just a little bit better, knowing that even though she was so very powerless when it came to so many things, she could at least give him some comfort when he needed it most.

Night had fallen by the time that Summer finally headed home. Steve set up camp in Bucky's patient room, not even considering letting Bucky stay there alone and certainly not letting any doctors or staff tell him otherwise. Bucky, of course, told him that he could go home and get some sleep that didn't involve trying to curl his overgrown body into an uncomfortably small chair, but Steve wouldn't hear a word of it. And deep down, Bucky was relieved.

They spent a large portion of the night simply talking. Bucky didn't say much, but Steve spoke fondly of all the memories that Bucky could now remember and it made for a pleasant distraction from the harsher things haunting his mind. They talked until the day caught up with Steve and he nodded off in his chair, leaving Bucky exhausted but far too restless to sleep.

He knew there was no hope of sleeping that night. The room was too cold, too unfamiliar and clinical, and every time he closed his eyes he saw himself being operated on. The thought of spending the rest of the night like that, fighting sleep and sitting there in silence, prompted him to slowly and silently ease out of bed and make it out of the room without waking Steve. There was someone else staying the night in the medical wing that Bucky had a feeling wasn't getting much sleep either.

She was just a couple of rooms down from his, curled up in her own bed with her eyes closed but not asleep by a longshot. Bucky saw her through the room's window first, and he looked around before softly tapping on the door and then pushing it open. Her eyes opened then, and as she looked tiredly towards the door, her self-appointed guardian at her side looked at Bucky with cautious but not unkind eyes.

"The doctors are supposed to be watching you," Vision said as Bucky hesitated before coming in any further.

"Yeah. Can't sleep," he shrugged, glancing at Wanda as she sat up. "I just... wanted to talk, after..."

Wanda nodded and then told Vision, "It's okay."

Vision looked at her for a moment before nodding and standing. "I'll wait outside," he said before quietly moving past Bucky and leaving the room. The door closed, and Bucky walked to the chair that Vision had just vacated and sat down.

Wanda looked smaller than she had ever seemed before, sitting in the bed a thin blanket wrapped around her. She was, like Bucky, wearing scrubs that they had been loaned in lieu of other clothing. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed, and she had the distinct appearance of someone who had been crying for much of the day.

"They told me you remember everything now," Wanda said quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah."

She swallowed and looked down at her hands as they fiddled with her blanket. "I didn't mean for us to... for our minds to do that. I couldn't help it."

"Yeah, I know," he replied softly. "You okay?"

"Not really," she replied honestly. "I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I..." she paused and shook her head. "I see what you saw. I still feel like I'm in your head."

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "Same for me."

"It's strange," she said, fingers still fidgeting. "None of it feels right."

"Well," he said with a small shrug, "I don't think it's supposed to." He then looked her over as she continued to sit there, staring down at nothing, and then he said, "I'm sorry. I can barely handle what's in my head myself. I never would have let you take all that on. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

She simply smiled a bit hollowly at him and shook her head. "I did what I had to do. And it worked."

"Yeah. Thank you," he told her sincerely. "I don't know if I would have remembered... anything... without what you did."

She offered him a small smile. "You know, it wasn't all bad. I felt all the good things, too. How much you love Summer, and your children. How important Steve is to you. He was the reason I was able to pull you out."

Bucky thought about that for a moment, glancing down towards his feet. Steve was the only connection that his present self had to his past, to his childhood and his family, and it made sense that Steve would play such a key role in his mind and memory. He shuddered to think of where he would be without Steve - most likely dead years ago after Project Insight was successfully launched. He wouldn't even be around to be on trial and have his head messed with by overly eager prosecutors.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Bucky said when he looked back up. Wanda's eyes flickered up to meet his, filling up with tears all over again.

"You would think it wouldn't hurt so bad by now," she said, swiping her fingers under her eyes. "I keep waiting for it to get better, but it never really does."

He could feel it as clearly as he could earlier, the way that she had felt when she'd sensed her brother's death. It was a permanent, unnatural tear that ripped through her very soul, and something like that never healed. Not really. It just scabbed over, waiting to be ripped off again and again.

He wondered if that was how Steve had felt when he'd watched him fall all of those years ago.

"But even after that," she said, "I don't think I could have ever been ready for seeing what you went through. Your arm... what they did to you..."

Bucky's jaw clenched as he forced himself to take a breath, not wanting to talk about this but knowing that he had to. It was easier to talk to someone who had quite literally experienced it alongside him earlier. "I didn't... I didn't remember the surgery before, or... what they did after. It was just flashes."

"It's too much for one person," she replied. He couldn't disagree.

He drew another shaky breath and then said in an effort to take his mind off of the memories trying to edge their way back into his head, "They tortured you, too."

She furrowed her brows and looked away. "I volunteered."

"But you didn't know who you were volunteering for," he replied. "I saw it all. And I felt how it burned you."

"But when I was in my cell," she said, "I sat there and waited for the burning to stop and then when it finally did, I counted the days until I could start fighting and getting my revenge. I didn't scratch names and words into my arm so I wouldn't forget them."

The skin on his right forearm suddenly tingled as if from physical memory. He knew it was all in his head, but he almost expected to look down and see jagged scars instead of seemingly flawless skin.

"You can't compare us," she insisted quietly.

He looked up at her and replied, "Wasn't trying to. I just didn't know what you've been through until now."

"Well, now we both know a lot more than we ever wanted to," she said, smiling humorlessly. "I'm glad you remember. If you hadn't, I don't know what would have happened."

He nodded before muttering quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for bringing me back."

She smiled and shrugged. "You do owe me now."

He almost chuckled. It was more of a sharp exhale than anything resembling a real laugh, however, but it was something. Then he glanced towards the door, outside of which Vision was speaking to someone as he continued to stand guard. "Looks like you've got a guardian... droid."

"Yeah," she said softly, looking his way with a quiet, maybe even slightly dreamy look in her eyes. It was the same look that Summer always insisted meant Wanda had it bad for the guy, and Bucky couldn't disagree. "He's very protective."

A moment later, Bucky drew in a breath and said, "I should get back. You need to get some sleep."

"So do you," she pointed out as he stood up.

He scoffed slightly. "Yeah, not gonna happen."

She pursed her lips and then replied, "Then at least do me one favor. I know how much guilt you feel. It's crippling. You can't live like that."

He paused, having not expected her to say that, but on second thought it wasn't surprising at all. "Don't think that's gonna change any time soon."

"You shouldn't feel so much guilt over things you couldn't control," she told him.

"Neither should you," he replied gently. She frowned then, looking down and nodding almost imperceptibly. They both knew there would be no resolving of their issues in the near future, especially not that night, so he put a comforting hand on her shoulder as a way of saying goodnight. Then he turned and left, giving Vision a small nod before heading back to his own room where a long night waited ahead.

Steve was still asleep when Bucky got back. He silently crawled back into the small, uncomfortable bed, feeling an unpleasant twist in his gut at the thought of laying there all night as a captive to the noise and images in his head. But if he slept, he'd see it all again and feel it all again, and that was even worse.

Maybe he'd never find true rest again until he was dead.

The following morning, Summer woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of Adelaide giggling in her crib just across from Summer's bed. She blearily sat up and squinted until she could see somewhat clearly, and that was when she determined the culprit of the issue - Loki the cat, who had hopped into Adelaide's crib and was now purring happily as she pet his head and sleepily played with him.

"Fricking cat," Summer muttered, looking at the clock to find that it was barely 6:30 AM. She let out a sigh and looked at Bucky's empty side of the bed, then at David who was, as per usual, curled up not unlike a puppy at the foot of the bed. Then she briefly laid back down, wincing when she did because as she had predicted, she was sore as hell.

But none of that mattered, and neither did her measly three hours or so of sleep. She got out of bed and picked Adelaide up and out of her crib, kissing her cheek and giving the annoying but gorgeous kitty in the crib a scratch or two behind his ears before officially getting the day started. It was just as well - the sooner she got out of the tower, the sooner she could bring Bucky home.

Two hours later, both kids were up, fed, and happy, and Summer debated between leaving them at the tower or bringing them to pick Bucky up. She quickly decided against taking them merely as a precaution in case she happened across any reporters or cameras along the way, and that meant she had to go and wake up Darcy so she could watch them for her. She hated doing things like that, hated being a burden on others, but her options those days were hideously limited.

After the kids were situated and Darcy had taken over without a hint of bitterness, which somehow made Summer feel even worse, she looked in the mirror before grabbing her keys and heading out. The cut on her forehead looked as awful as it had the day before, and no amount of makeup would fully conceal it. She sighed and decided to ignore both it and the twinges of pain she felt every time she so much as moved, and she headed out the door.

She just wanted a nice, quiet, calm day where Bucky would come home and they could deal with the aftermath of the day before in peace. He needed a break badly and she just wanted to have a moment to breathe.

But as usual, the universe had other plans.

From the moment she picked him up to the time she brought him home, Bucky didn't say more than two words to Summer. Natasha hitched a ride with them and provided most of the conversation from the backseat, and every few minutes, Summer would glance to her right at Bucky to check on him. Each time, she found him staring aimlessly out the passenger window, a million miles away in his own head, and she could tell that he hadn't slept a wink the night before. He had a rough road ahead of him, and she absolutely hated it.

Once they returned to the tower, Summer stood next to Bucky in the elevator ride up and took his hand in hers in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. He looked at her when she touched him, not smiling but not frowning either, and she knew that was the best she was going to get. She squeezed his hand and then looked up as the elevator doors opened, only to stop dead in her tracks when she walked through and saw who was waiting for her.

It was the damn social worker who had promised to check up on Summer's "situation" from time to time, and as always, the woman's timing was impeccably terrible.

She had been sitting on the couch across from Darcy, watching the kids play on the floor, and she stood up as soon as she saw that Summer and Bucky had arrived home. "Mr. and Mrs. Barnes," she said sharply but cordially, smiling and heading their way. "Good morning. Sorry to drop in unannounced, but after yesterday's events I wanted to check in and see how everybody was."

Heart suddenly racing and panic simmering just under the surface, Summer glanced at Bucky when he looked at her in pure confusion, and then she mustered up a smile and told the woman, "It's okay."

She then looked at Bucky, who looked both lost and highly concerned, and then she held out her hand and said, "I'm Margo Davis with the Department of Children and Families. I haven't gotten to meet you yet."

Bucky reluctantly shook her hand, his entire expression changing when it dawned on him who this woman was and why she was there.

Summer then felt a huge wave of guilt threaten to crash over her head. She had never told Bucky about the social worker's first visit, mainly because she didn't want to cause him more stress or add to his worries. Now, however, she regretted that decision, especially when Bucky looked at her in a way that made her feel even worse.

"How are you feeling?" Margo asked Bucky after dropping his hand. "I saw what happened on the news."

She didn't really see what happened on the news. All that the press knew was that Bucky had collapsed in the courtroom and had been taken away by ambulance - the details were being withheld quite deliberately.

"I'm fine," Bucky told her, and as soon as he spoke, both David and Adelaide heard him and promptly got up and rushed to him. He had only been gone one night, but they had missed him terribly and they both smacked into him with full force as they hugged the crap out of him.

As Bucky hugged them back and picked Adelaide up, Summer glanced at Darcy who mouthed I am so sorry while gesturing to the social worker. Summer nodded and gave her a reassuring if empty smile, knowing there was nothing Darcy could have done to keep Margo out.

Meanwhile, Natasha was the one who was clear-headed enough to step in and cut to the chase. "Miss Davis, we all have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in, so if you could state the reason for your visit?"

Margo eyed Natasha and then ignored her, turning back to the parents before her, addressing Summer first. "As I told you during my first visit, it's my job to make sure that the needs of the children are being met. I'm just here to check on them."

As soon as the words "first visit" left the woman's mouth, Bucky looked at Summer with pure disbelief. She tried to only freak out about one thing at a time, replying, "I understand. They're fine. They're doing good. As you can see."

"They look good," Margo nodded. "You, on the other hand, look like you've got some stitches in your forehead."

Oh crap. Stomach turning, Summer shrugged and said, "It's not a big deal. I'm fine."

Margo didn't look convinced. She looked at Bucky next, thinking only God knew what, and then she asked Summer, "How exactly did you get that?"

Before Summer could flounder for a lie that would have been embarrassingly transparent, Natasha was already lying for her, and much more smoothly than she could have herself. "I've been teaching her self defense. She took a tumble yesterday while we were training."

Margo slowly turned to look at Natasha as if to express how little she cared to hear anything she had to say, and then she looked from Bucky to Summer again. "You looked fine on the footage from yesterday. You were training while he was in the hospital?"

Summer nodded. "Yeah, he was out for a few hours, so to pass the time..." She shrugged. "I have anxiety issues, so keeping busy helps keep me from going crazy in situations like that." That wasn't a lie.

Margo didn't look convinced, but she also had no reason not to believe them. "All right. Well, I've already checked the fridge and the kids' rooms, so I've completed most of my check. I want to come back soon for a more thorough visit, with the both of you."

"That's fine," Summer quickly nodded. "If you could call first next time..."

"Of course," Margo assured her with a false smile. "I'm concerned about the safety of this particular living arrangement. The kids have their own rooms, which is good, but this is hardly the sort of environment we want to see children raised in."

"It's temporary," Summer told her. "I told you that last time. They wouldn't be safe right now in a normal house, with the press and protesters and everything."

"But are they safe here?" Margo asked, eyeing Summer's forehead as she spoke. Bucky, in the midst of all of this, simply held on to Adelaide as she babbled obliviously in his arms, trying not to let his guilt show too clearly.

"Yes," Summer replied. "We're doing everything we can to keep them safe and give a sense of normality. And routine. Trust me, they're our priority no matter what's happening."

Margo nodded, watching Adelaide as she gnawed on her tiny fist while laying her head on her father's shoulder. "Well, as I said, I'll be in touch soon. You have my number," she told Summer. "Make sure and let me know if you need anything."

Summer nodded, a bit confused by that last statement. "Okay."

Margo bade farewell then, clutching her purse to her shoulder and walking towards the elevators. She didn't see the black furball in front of her feet until it was too late, and after she stepped on Loki the cat's tail with her high heel, the cat screeched and then hissed at her with all the fury of a much bigger and scarier cat. The woman faltered and laughed, leaning down to pet the cat and offering an apology, but he merely swiped his claws at her hand and made an indignant noise before walking off with his tail high in the air. She rolled her eyes and continued on her way.

Once she was gone, Bucky gave Adelaide a kiss on the cheek and then murmured an I love you before setting her down and then giving David a pat on the head. He then turned and made a beeline for his and Summer's bedroom without a word or glance to anyone.

Oh man. Summer quickly called out to him, "Bucky, wait, I -"

He kept walking and didn't even twitch in her direction. He got to their room down the hall and slammed the door shut behind him, and Summer closed her eyes in dismay.

"You never told him about her?" Natasha asked, and Summer shook her head.

"I didn't want to make it worse. I knew he'd just freak out even more, and... oh man."

"Go and talk it out," Natasha told her, picking up Adelaide. "I've got them."

"Thank you," Summer sighed before wasting no time in going after Bucky. She couldn't believe the timing of this crap - of all the days to get a surprise visit from DCF, this might have been the worst.

She opened the door to their bedroom and found it seemingly empty. She heard the sink running in the bathroom behind the closed door, so she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to come out.

It wasn't long before the door opened and he came trudging out, looking angry and sad and confused and miserable all at once. He took one look at Summer and his expression grew even darker.

She immediately stood up. "Bucky, I -"

"I don't want to talk," he told her, waving a hand at her dismissively.

"But I just want you to understand," she said, following him as he grimaced and headed towards their window. "She came here right after you were arrested. It was so long ago and I didn't want to make you worry more, so I just..."

"She knows I did that to you," he said, turning to face her. He pointed to the cut on her forehead. "She knows you were lying."

"You didn't do this to me," Summer replied, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Yes I did," he said, "and you had to stand there and cover it up like a fucking..." He cut himself off, scowling and looking away. Then he said the last thing she ever expected him to say. "You should take the kids and leave."

She blinked. "What?"

"You're not safe here," he told her. "Neither are they. It's just a matter of time before that woman comes back and takes them away."

Summer shook her head almost frantically. "No. That's - no. Are you - you can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious."

"They can't take them away from us," Summer argued. "It's their job to check up on us, but we take care of them and we feed them and love them, and they're happy. We're good parents, even she knows that."

Bucky laughed humorlessly. "No, you're a good parent. I'm not even... I'm just here. Barely. I didn't even know we had those people investigating us."

"That's my fault," Summer muttered.

"Yeah, it is," he didn't hesitate to agree.

Wincing and feeling awful, Summer sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you. I was just... trying to protect you, I guess."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, looking away again. "They're gonna think I hit you now. They already know who I am and what I've done. It's just a matter of time before they think I'm gonna hurt the kids or that I already have. You should just... take them and disappear and..."

"No," Summer said, the firmness in her voice taking herself by surprise. She stepped closer to him and took his face in her hands, making sure that he was looking at her and nothing else. "I am not taking them and going anywhere. I'm not leaving you."

He sighed and tried to move her hands away. "Summer..."

She stood her ground. "No, Bucky. We're in this together, okay? I wasn't just saying pretty-sounding words when I said for better or worse. This is the worse part, and as freaked out as I am about all of this, there's no way in hell I'm going anywhere."

He shook his head, clenching his jaw and trying to look anywhere but in her eyes. He could only hold out for so long, however, and when he finally met her gaze, she watched as hurt and shame and despair welled up in his eyes. She was about to pull him close and embrace him, kiss him, do anything she possibly could to make him feel better, but then he took her wrists and moved her arms back to her sides, and he stepped around her with the intent of leaving the room without a word.

She reached out and grabbed at his right arm. "Bucky, stop."

He spun around and looked at her with a hardness and distance in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time. "I want to be alone," he muttered before taking his arm out of her grip.

She wasn't used to this. She was grasping at straws, just wanting to make him feel better and maybe not knowing quite when to stop in her current state. "But..."

"Dammit, would you just leave me alone?" he snapped, surprising himself as much as he surprised her. He furrowed his brows after as if he wasn't sure if he had just said that out loud or not.

She stared at him with slight hurt for a moment before her brain kicked in and reminded her that he had been through an unimaginable ordeal yesterday and was now dealing with even more thanks to the social worker's visit. She blinked and then felt incredibly stupid and pushy, wishing she had just let him be in the first place. Of course he needed space. She was an idiot.

"Okay, yeah," she said quietly, nodding. "Sorry. Just text me if you need anything, okay?"

He sighed and muttered, "Summer, I didn't mean -"

"It's okay," she assured him, touching his arm comfortingly. "I understand. Take all the time you need. You should try to get some sleep too, if you can."

With that, she pulled her hand back and stepped around him, taking a deep breath and heading to the door. He watched her leave, feeling no better once she was gone and he had been granted his solitude.

She lingered for a moment on the other side of the door after she'd closed it, shutting her eyes and trying to force down a lump of unwanted and useless feelings crawling up her throat. Everything just kept getting worse. They couldn't catch a break. It was just one stroke of bad luck after another, and even something as seemingly positive as all of Bucky's memories being restored seemed to be a lot more of a curse than a blessing.

She opened her eyes when she felt a soft pressure against her leg. She looked down and wasn't surprised to see little Loki, rubbing against her leg and looking up at her with those almost unnervingly bright green eyes of his as he offered a soft meow.

She sighed and picked him up, feeling his happy purr vibrate through his little feline body as she patted his head and muttered, "What I wouldn't give to trade places with you every once in awhile."