SHE WAS TRANSPORTED TO THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CITY. It was not a surprise, she expected to be taken away from the public eye. Though she had not done anything damaging to the world, there was always one opinion that said they did not want to harbour a machine. Bucky was with her, sitting beside her in the vehicle as the pair was taken to a small building. At first glance, it would be seen as rundown, something that one's eyes would skirt over. But she stared, stared at her new home. To her, it was nothing like she'd ever seen. There was nothing in New York that matched its description.
Yet, she could not begin to describe the building, it had an old feel, but a new shell. Something made her feel welcome in the rooms, and it had a constant warmth that wrapped around her. She could not help but feel grateful.
The door was unlocked with a key, and she and Bucky slipped inside. The man who brought her to the second room had left them, speaking a few words to Bucky. She did not have enough energy to listen in to what they were saying, her mind was numbing with each step.
He sat her down in the front room, the light streaming through gaps in the closed curtains. A cloud of dust spurted as she sank into the couch, it was one of two, and they were both unused. A television hung on the wall, the remote discarded on the table between the two couches. She suspected that most of the house was covered in a layer of dust.
"Sorry about the..uh..." Bucky scratched the back of his neck, the keys jangling as he lifted his hand.

She shook her head, words too far of a distance for her to bother with. Her muscles were slack as she leant on the back of the couch, eyes turning to slits. She watched Bucky as he navigated the house.
Who's idea was it to keep two unstable minds in the one house?
She wasn't sure how far the city was from where they stayed, but she suspected it was far enough so that if she screamed, they would not hear.
There would be no rescue from her demons, it seemed.
Bucky mumbled incoherent words underneath his breath, his eyes darting to the girl splayed across the couch. He remembered her, remembered her wide eyes when she looked up at him. Her blonde hair shorter than it was now, and her height at least a foot and a half shorter. He was not able to comprehend why an organisation such as HYDRA would take in a young girl like her. They clearly saw something, but other than that, she was just...around.
He remembered her watching from the corner, asking him questions he did not know the answer to. She grew up where he was, yet only to escape for brief years before being taken back once more. Whatever they did to her then, it made her who she was today. She was like him, then again, they were as different as the water was to the earth. Their lives were both stolen by those filled with greed, and now they were to pay for their actions.
Bucky opened a cupboard, taking out one of the only items inside. A blanket. He did not know whether she needed it, but he had spread it over her sleeping body anyway. She did not stir as he stepped back, and retired to his own room upstairs.

She could feel him drop material on her.
She did not move, afraid it would give her away. She was wary, of Bucky himself or because of her lack of energy, she couldn't decide.
She knew where he came from, a place just like hers. Her mind brought up no images, but the way he moved, the way he positioned himself, it was just like she was taught. They were one and the same.
She opened a eye, watching as he ascended the stairs to the upper rooms. The details of his face matched what was whispered in her ear while she slept. The conclusion didn't come to her right away, but slowly, her mind would pull the pieces together.
She was in the same building as the Winter Soldier.
It pulled a string in her heart, that he was saved, taken to safety, while she had to be positioned in New York before anything would happen. These thoughts never crossed her mind before, she never needed to have this train of thought in the first place. She was looked after, the compound gave her a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and the skills to use her power to the best of her ability. So why was she like this? Had something switched in her mind?
She closed her eyes once more, focusing on the darkness of the back of her eyelids. She would have to fight the demons back herself.

∆ ∆ ∆

Her bare feet pounded against the hard tiles. They wouldn't do this. Mother wouldn't allow it. Her mind could not comprehend the decision her mother allowed.
Tears were in the corner of her eyes, and her heart was beating rapidly. The white shift clung to her body as she ran, a hand running along the wall as she turned the corner. Locks of hair were pushed back, she could feel her tied up hair swaying.
Doors flew past her, yet she could not find any window. She needed one, but in the grey concrete walls alluded to none. Her eye widened ever so slightly as she met a crossroads, taking the left turn. She did not know the layout of the building, but any hallway could bring her further and further away from her fate.
Her feet squeaked against the tiles as she skidded to a stop.
Her eyes widened, and she bit down on her lip. Her eyes met with the legs of the person before her, and she did not want to look up.
Yet she did.
What they did to him, she didn't know. One day he would talk to her, the next it was like she never existed. He was the only person she could...well, the word would be trust. He was the only person she could trust in this dark place.
Her eyes dragged to his left arm — her right. She stepped back in fear as the metal glinted in the light, threatening her.
He wore a mask over his mouth, and glasses over his eyes. He had not tied his hair back, like he usually did. Instead, it hung loose over his face. She couldn't stop thinking that he looked like the devil.
He was silent as he reached for her, and she retracted. He was not the person she knew, not anymore. Not the person she forced a laugh out of, even when he looked down. Something had changed, and she did not like it.

Her mind could not form words as she bumped into a person behind her, yelping as they pinned her down. He loomed over her, the glasses reflecting her terrified form. She whimpered, pleading to let her go. Mother wouldn't allow this, she said.
They laughed, and replied that she was the one to instruct this to happen.
She did not believe them. She screamed, yelled, but her voice only joined in with the chorus that began to ring in her ears. There was no turning back for her.

He was the last face for her to see before they—

She thrashed as Bucky attempted to wake her, pinning her down on the couch with his arm. It was a struggle, and she did not respond to her given name. He did not know her number, so he continued to call out her name until her eyes flew open.
She lurched forward and onto the floor, Bucky stepping back. She whimpered, curling in on herself. She did not expect these dreams, did not want to be reminded.
The last scene, one she dared not remember, was so vivid and realistic that she swore it was real. To her, it looked more real that the carpet underneath her hands.
"Hey, hey," Bucky rested a hand on her shoulder, crouching beside her as she gasped for breath, "It wasn't real. It wasn't real."

He mumbled reassurances, sitting beside her. She heard them, and she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much that it hurt to think otherwise.
She peeled her eyes open, not wanting to blink as she thought it would invite the demons back inside.
"It was so real." She whispered.

"They do seem that, but they aren't. They never are." Bucky's hand lifted from her shoulder, sliding out a draw, and retrieving something that was given to him, but he never got around to using.

He tapped on her shoulder, drawing her attention. She watched him, reminding him too much of her younger self, as he held up a leather-bound notebook, "I was given this, but it's yours."

Hesitantly, she sat up, taking the notebook out of his hand. She unclipped it, flipping through the blank pages, "This...this is too good. I-I can't accept this." She shook her head, holding it out for him.

His hand clasped over hers, "Whenever you have a dream, or a memory, or a thought that you don't want to forget. Write it down in here." He tapped the book, "It worked for me, and it's still working."

She nodded, licking her lips. A surge of emotion ran through her heart, and she clutched the book to her chest. Tears threatened at her eyes, and she leant on Bucky's shoulder, sniffling. She hadn't owned anything before.
"Thank you." She whispered, knowing he'd understand.

∆ ∆ ∆

Bucky attempted at breakfast.
She didn't know what time it was, and she was not able to read the clock on the wall. So she resigned to either asking Bucky himself — who also had trouble — or she guessed the time.
When a plate was pushed in front of her, she made an attempt to smile. It was difficult, as she was neither Emily nor 024. She was someone between, and she had not smiled before.
Bucky smiled back, and she noted that it must've been more of a grimace.
She still didn't know what country she was in, and through the window she could see the people hurrying past. There was baskets in their hands, and they never once paused at the building. She didn't know whether she liked the invisibility that was given to her, but at that moment, it was okay. She thought it was okay.
Her hands shook at the task before her. She hardly remembered how to eat.
It was such a stupid dilemma to have, but there she was, with a fork and knife presented before her, having no idea how to use them.
"Here." Bucky slipped the utensils into her hands, and with his own, he demonstrated.

She watched, catching on quickly. With a bat of her eye her power surged, and Bucky gained another arm. She saw him still, and whispered a thank you, before continuing to eat. He was here to help her, so she wanted to give something back. Giving Bucky a second arm allowed her to exert some of the power building up, it also have her something to focus on.
She gave him another smile, biting down on her food. The flavour exploded in her mouth, and she leant back in her chair. This was better than anything she forced herself to eat in New York, better than anything they fed her at the compound.
When the pair was done, they worked together to wash the dishes used. Bucky showing her how to scrub at each dish. It was all things that were self explanatory that needed explaining. Simple things like how to eat, how to wash dishes. She'd probably have to ask how to turn the setting on the shower so it was not freezing cold. It was the little things she had trouble with.
They made quick work, and the pair rested against the table.
"Would you be alright if I left you alone for twenty minutes?" Bucky asked.

She bit her lip, eyes darting to the floor, and shook her head. She did not think she would be alright alone, not in this state of mind.
"Okay, let's get going, then." Instead of locking her up, like someone at the compound would do, Bucky led her to the door, slipped on a pair of shoves, and opened the door for her to step outside.

She didn't care about her bare feet, those outside weren't all wearing shoes anyway. She wrapped her arms around her chest, keeping her head down as Bucky kept a hand on her shoulder. The sun beamed down above, and the slight wind pushed her loose hair across her face. They were in some sort of a paradise, she thought. The buildings rose high into the sky, and row against row of smaller shops lined the streets. She was gently tugged into one, the cool air enveloping her. Beside the hum of the air conditioning in the back, the shop was otherwise silent.
Bucky tapped onto her shoulder, earning her attention, "We've got to get you clothes, right?"

Tilting her head, she raised her brows at the question. The thought didn't cross her mind. She tugged at the white shift, frowning at it.
"It's hard, but I'm sure we can get through it. Together?"

She nodded, giving him her third attempt at a grin.
Neither knew what the girl would want, and neither knew how to choose clothes in the first place. So they decided with a simple option, shirts and shorts. It was easier, as they only had to find a size that would fit her.
She stepped into the changing room, her heart picking up its pace. The enclosed space, the door behind her locked—
She bit down on her lip, staring at the mirror  before her. There were many places where bones were prominent, there being a lack of muscle on her skin. She wondered how long she'd been asleep before they woke her on that table for her to become so damaged. She rarely looked at her reflection, had she always looked like this?
She coughed, dropping the few shirts and shorts on the bench, "Uh, Bucky?"

"Hm?"

"Could you...could you hum?" Her request was strange, but she felt that it would keep her mind off the fact of how small the room was.

To her luck, he complied. The tune was muted, and she did not recognise it. Must've been something from his childhood, she thought.
She slipped the shift off, discarding it on the floor. She refused to look at the scars that decorated her skin like ink, refused to acknowledge the mangled skin of her back when they punished her. It happened when she was young, following along with her dream. As she grew, it began to tighten and twist, the skin was forever damaged.
Her eyes widened at the memory, and she shoved the first shirt on. Once she checked it fit, she shucked it off and tried on another. Leaving them in two piles, ones that fit, others that didn't.
She forced herself to be quick, and once her white shift was on she unlocked the door with fumbling hands, the two piles in her arms.
"All done?"

She nodded, handing Bucky the pile they would be purchasing, the other she began to fold neatly and set back on the shelves. She batted away the worker's hands, wanting to do this herself. She wanted familiarity, wanted something that was hers.
She waited as Bucky paid, giving them currency she hadn't seen before, and the pair were out of the door.
"Home?" He asked, and she nodded. Home it was.