When Jak sleepily opened her eyes and felt warm sunshine on her face, she saw that she was in a room she did not recognize. The mattress under her was softer than anything she'd slept on in years, even while being housed by a billionaire. The comforter and sheets covering her were warm, but still lighter than a cloud. Her pillow was the perfect amount of firm and the bed frame itself was gilded like something out of Versailles.

Groggily sitting up, she did her best to remember where she was and how she'd gotten there, but nothing came to mind. She'd slept so well that a complete bliss ran through her veins and she found that she had a hard time focusing. With a sleepy smile, she pulled the blankets back to get out of bed. She was still wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a worn flannel shirt just like she'd been wearing when… well, she wasn't sure when, but before she'd fallen asleep, she supposed.

Her heavy work boots were several feet away, sitting next to a finely crafted dresser. The dresser stood next to a wide widow, covered in lace curtains. She rubbed her eyes and shuffled toward the window, pulling back the curtains to see that whatever building she was in was surrounded by acres of trees. This was the first uneasy feeling she had.

When she was ten years old, her mother had taken her out into the woods and left her alone. She told her to use her magic to get home. Jak asked what would happen if she couldn't do it. Her mother frowned at her and told her that if she could not accomplish such a small task, she was not worth her parents' time and they would have another child to replace her. It took her three days, but Jak eventually found her way back to the settlement where they lived. Ever since, she avoided forests.

"Where am I?" She muttered, taking a step away from the window. After lacing up her boots, she explored the rest of the large bedroom. There was a fine armchair that looked like it had been taken straight from a Victorian sitting room, and a Turkish rug in a brilliant shade of red with gold details. When she made her way to the door, it reeked of magic and refused to open.

A sharp pain lit up her head when she desperately tried to remember what she'd been doing before she went to sleep. She fell back into the armchair and stared at the ceiling. The lighting fixture was beautiful, but a handful of decades out of date. In the corner of the room, she spotted a camera much like the ones she was used to seeing at Avengers Compound.

Avengers Compound. That's where she'd been. With the Avengers. With… someone else. Why had she left? How did she get to this locked room in the middle of nowhere?

Her brain screamed at her to stop thinking about it. The metal cuff on her wrist blinked at her and she remembered that she did not have her magic. But hadn't she been able to use it recently? Hadn't she done really well with it?

"Ow!" She hissed, pressing her hands to her eyes. With grit teeth, she realized that someone, a magical someone, did not want her remembering. Enraged by this, she growled and strode back to the door, slamming her fist on it. She continued knocking until the door swung open and revealed a familiar face. Except, she couldn't place why it was familiar or where she knew the man from.

"Quiet down," he told her, glancing nervously behind him. Jak looked over his shoulder and saw a narrow hallway, decorated with artifacts most people would have considered antiques. The man gently pushed her back into the room and followed after her, partially closing the door behind him.

"Where am I?" She demanded, "Did you cast a spell on me?"

He scoffed at this and gave her a "are you serious?" look. She stared at his handsome face: his strong jaw, his dark brows and light eyes. His hair hung just below his chin and looked like it hadn't been washed in a disturbing amount of time. Stubble covered his jaw.

"Listen," he said softly. His voice was so familiar that it nearly made Jak keel over from the pain in her head trying to remember who he was, "I don't know who you are or why he wants you, but I know you don't want to be here."

"Do you know who you are?" She asked. For some reason, she thought that he might not.

"I- well, that's kind of complicated," he frowned and put a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm and when she glanced at his hand she saw that it was made out of shiny metal. "I'm figuring it out. But you… you seem familiar."

"You're familiar too," she told him and then winced, "Someone messed with my memories. I can't think of how I know you."

"Uh," he cringed and carefully removed his hand, "I kind of tried to kidnap you a few times. Not because I wanted to! My brain is wired weird right now. The guy who owns this house ordered me to get you."

"Who owns this house?" She asked, not at all bothered that this man had evidently tried to kidnap her. It eased a bit of the pain in her mind to know that he had. The information clicked into place in her brain as if she already knew that.

"I don't really know. I heard him answer the phone one time and say 'this is Fenice'. Not sure if that's his first or last name."

"I'm Jak," she told him, "But if you tried to kidnap me, you probably knew that."

"I'm… err, Bucky. I guess."

"Bucky," she nodded excitedly, "Yes! That's your name. I know you! I know you, Bucky… I just don't know how."

"I think I know you too," he told her, "Even apart from kidnapping you."

Despite the aching in her head, she laughed at this. Despite knowing that he had kidnapped her from Avengers Compound, she felt safe with him.

"Can you help me get out of here?" She asked him.

"Not yet," he told her in a whisper. "I'm still figuring out how to get us both out of here. The only reason I'm not locked in a cell or frozen in a cryo chamber is because Fenice thinks I'm still under his control. The minute he finds out I'm not he'll throw me back into a cell."

"There's a camera," Jak nervously nodded her head in that direction. "He can see you if he's watching."

"I'm supposed to be guarding you," he told her, straightening his posture, "He told me not to interact with you unless it seemed like you were upset. You were hitting the door pretty hard. You seemed pretty upset to me."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. "Alright. Okay. We can work with that. You'll probably need to step out of the room in a minute or else this Fenice guy will think you're being a little too chatty."

"Agreed. But I want you to know I'm on your side. Unless… unless you start hearing him say a string of seemingly random Russian words to me. Then, well, don't trust me, got it?"

"Random Russian words. Got it."

"Alright, I'm going to leave you alone now. He said he had a few calls to make and business to attend to, but I'm sure he'll be talking to you soon."

"I'll be ready. Do you think we can jump him?"

Bucky raised a brow at her and the expression reminded her of a different man with long hair. But it felt like her skin was on fire when she tried to remember this other man more.

"I don't think so," he said, "It sounds crazy, but he's got magic. Or something like it. I think you do too, right?"

"I did," she tapped the cuff, "Not right now."

"Right. Once you get your magic then maybe we could take him, but we can't risk it right now. Not while I'm able to think for once. Not while I can be in control of my actions."

"Okay. Okay, we'll figure it out. For now, go back in the hallway. I'll try to remember what I can."

He nodded and stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. She dreaded hearing the lock click into place, but at least felt somewhat better knowing she had an ally on the other side of it.

With nothing else to do, she sat in the armchair and prodded at the painful spell attached to her memories. She doubted it would actually kill her to keep at it, even if it felt like an ax was splitting her skull. Whoever had kidnapped her went to too much trouble by putting her in this fancy room and setting Bucky as a guard to want her dead. They wouldn't risk her killing herself to regain her memories.

An excruciating twenty minutes or so later, her nose was bleeding, her ears were ringing, and she was beginning to doubt that the spellcaster did not want her dead. But, she had managed to remember most of the events that led to her being there. She could remember the box of her mother's bones and the federal investigation. She remembered Agent Feuer and how the driver of the car was the Winter Soldier. She even remembered, somewhat, that Bucky had attacked her previously, though the details were fuzzy.

What infuriated her was that she could not recall knowing the Avengers. She knew she must have, since she remembered working as a janitor for them for the past three years, but she did not know what her relationship with the super heroes was like. Were they on good terms? Did they dislike her for trying to kill Captain America? She could dredge up a few fond feelings for Steve Rogers, so he must not hold a grudge against her.

Breathing heavily, she finally gave up on getting the memories back. Just for the time being. Her mind couldn't handle much more probing. If she went too far she feared she would damage her brain. So she closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the chair, hoping the flashing lights in her eyes would stop and letting the blood from her nose drip down over her lips.

She fell asleep again and didn't wake until the door to her room banged open. Startling awake, she whipped her head toward the door and first saw the feet and legs of the man who entered. He wore shiny black dress shoes, bright red socks, and golden charms tied to the laces of his shoes. His pants were crisp black slacks that started at an embossed black belt, painted with red designs. A chain from a pocket watch hung over his hip, bearing more small golden chains.

Then her eyes traveled farther up and saw his almost pure white shirt. The garment was flecked with drops of red that Jak sincerely hoped were a design choice and not fresh blood. From the state of the gloves on his hands, however, she suspected blood was more likely. When her eyes finally found his face, framed by inky hair, she felt herself stop breathing.

"Winnet," thin lips smiled at her and purple eyes sparked behind wire frames, "I see that, even after a few years apart, you still recognize me, yes?"

She stood up and realized that she was just as tall as he was. For the past seventy some years she'd been envisioning him as a towering figure, snarling down at her. It was odd to be able to look him in the eyes.

No words would come to her. Her throat felt too scratchy even if she had been able to speak. Her heart galloped and her lungs felt sluggish. Hands shaking, she took a step closer and hesitantly reached out toward him.

"A ghost," she croaked, "You're dead."

"I promise I'm as corporeal as you are," his grin widened, showing her the crooked lower front teeth she recognized. Somehow, rather than taking anything away from his looks, he appeared more roguish because of the crooked teeth.

She shook her head, pressing her hand against his chest and then quickly drawing back when she felt how solid he was. She backed up too far and fell into the chair again, still shaking her head.

"Come now, Winnet dear, surely you know that is not the proper way to greet me. Let's have a show of manners, hmm? I know your mother instructed you to curtsy when in the presence of your most esteemed father. Go on," his smile turned into a sneer, "Curtsey, you wicked little wretch."

A note from the author: Thanks for reading and special thanks to darkangelynn5 and JackpumpkinQueen for your reviews! :D

Until the next chapter!