FOR WHAT COULD have been a couple of minutes, or an hour, or a few hours, I was in utter shock. My throat had gone dry, my ears rang with the blood pumping in my veins, and my hands shook in disbelief. 

Steve. He was alive. And better yet, he was here. That old guy had rallied the troops, and he was here. I could hardly believe it. Bucky was going to see his best friend again, and everything was going to be okay. He was here to get us out of this goddamn place.

Another scream echoed through the corridor, getting closer to the heavy door that blocked our escape route. "Tell me!" A woman, presumably the owner of the banshee-like scream, shouted. "Where  did you take them, you dirty bastard!"

I exhaled a shaky breath as I recognized the fire in her voice. "Cara," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Holy fuck, it's Cara." Swiveling my head to look at Bucky, I half expected him to be standing, readying himself for one more fight. 

But all I saw was his curtain of brown hair falling into his eyes as he sat on his cot, tense with the overwhelming noise. "Steve," he kept chanting, getting louder and closer to normal volume with each repetition. It was a trigger word, I guessed, to keep him from the darkness of Cerberus' latch on his mind. 

"That's right," I reassured him, though it was hard to keep the urgency out of my mind. "Steve's gonna get us out of here." My tentative hand was bold this time, reaching out to gently brush his flesh arm. 

He pulled away, though, still not warming to my touch. "I..." he breathed, almost like a sigh. "I...I don't know you."

The tears of joy that came at the prospect of being rescued were quickly shifting to tears of hopelessness and despair as I realized that while he looked at me, he didn't see me.

He still didn't know me. I was a stranger to him. 

But there was no time to dwell on that fact, as the door to our cell swung open, banging into the wall. In the doorway stood a visibly fuming Cara Jansen. In her right hand she held a gun, and in the other...well, it was a strange sight to say the least.

I was momentarily frozen as I took in the whole image: she was gripping the thumb of a man very tightly in her hand, presumably holding it up to be allowed access into the room. But the thumb was still attached to its owner, who dragged across the ground. Dead or alive, I had no clue. And I didn't particularly want to find out, either. 

Before I knew it, my new friend had dropped the man in the doorway and was taking leaps for steps to get to me. I opened my arms, gasping for breath through my tears, but she never got to reach me—

She grunted as she received a punch in the gut from the tall, muscular man that had darted to stand in front of me, his unused hand spread from his side like a shield. 

"What the hell, Bucky?" Cara wheezed as she caught her breath. "This is how you greet an old friend?"

I peered around his bulky body to spot her and grimaced. "He's not himself yet, Cara. Be gentle." I could feel him tense with my proximity, as if finally realizing his actions.

The brunette stood up, still breathing heavily. Darting a glance to the door and seeing a new Cerberus guard, she whipped up her gun and downed him in one shot. "I thought," she huffed, "I thought you'd have slept with him by now. You know, after you were supposed to seduce him into remembering you again."

I glared at her, though it lost most of its gumption because of the furious blush on my cheeks. "Oh, that's what I was supposed to do, is it?"

She nodded, stalking back to the doorway to stand guard. "Yeah. Sam and Steve even made a bet about it."

My jaw slackened. "I'm gonna have to have a talk with them about placing bets on my relationships," I mumbled to myself. With my attention turning back to the man in front of me, I remembered that my relationship wasn't quite a relationship anymore. 

Bucky was staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else, like they betrayed him. "I...I don't know why I did that," he whispered. His words held the nuances of fear, confusion etched on his face. 

I tried to touch him again, to hold his hand and turn him around to face me, but he took a step back that time. "Please don't touch me," he pleaded, his eyes holding mine. "Please," he said again.

"How long until you can get him moving?" Cara called out. "We've got to get to the others."

"I'm doing my best," I answered, trying to ignore the cracking of my heart as Bucky's words sunk in. "Uh, Bucky?" I said, getting his attention. "I'm not going to touch you, okay?" I held up my hands. "See?"

It took him a couple of seconds, but he eventually nodded. He clutched his hands in a tight grip, his metal fingers linking with his flesh ones. He looked like a scared child. 

"Okay," I put my hands down. "You can't stay here. We're going to get out of this place, and we want to take you with." I nearly told him that he had no choice and we were going to take him no matter what. But then I supposed he didn't need anyone else telling him what to do or how to feel. "Do you want to get out of this place?"

He looked down at his hands. "I think so."

"Good," I nodded, "that's all we need to know. I'm gonna need your help, now, okay? Can you help me?"

He looked up at me, squinting his eyes. "I'll help," he said simply.

Cara heard him, and before I could even say anything, she was heading out into the corridor with a vengeful yell. 

"Well, fuckin' shit, Cara," I grumbled, jogging to the door and rushing into the corridor. "Wait up!"

I had only one moment to see if Bucky was following. He was. Slowly catching up, repeating only one name. Steve. 

"Come on, Buck," I encouraged him, "Steve's looking for you. We've gotta find him."

A group of guards turned the corner just then, ambushing us. I inhaled sharply as I saw Cara kick and scream, only fighting as many of the bastards as she could. But as I stood there in the midst of unconscious—or worse, I remembered—bodies, I knew I had to get involved and kick some Cerberus ass. 

Cara and Nat's meager lessons to teach me how to fight had evidently payed off, at least for the time being. I memorized the way the three guards lumbered at us, their weight distribution off-kilter with the littered accomplices on the cement floor. This gave me a few seconds to center myself, bending my knees to crouch in a fighting stance. I had no clue what Bucky was doing behind me, but I didn't have time to think about him. 

The first guard to reach me was a pot-bellied man with more hair on his face than his head. I drew a fist back and threw it towards his face, colliding deliciously with his jaw. He was strong, though, and it only made him hiss and jerk his head to the side in pain. He sneered maliciously at me, the bright lights of the compound doing nothing to wash away the darkness in his gaze. 

"That's sweet," he scoffed as he saw my protective stance in front of the mentally unstable man behind me. "You're protecting him. Your little bitch."

I didn't have the capacity to hold a strong punch and spit fire at him, so I just clenched my jaw and swung my leg up to kick him where it hurt. It was an emotional kick rather than a smart one given the circumstances, and he saw it coming with wide, hungry eyes. 

My leg was caught in his tight grip, wrenching my ankle nearly out of the socket. He yanked me closer to him, my leg still held at an awkward angle, forcing me to stumble into his waiting embrace. I recoiled at our proximity, trying my best to pull myself out of his trap but to no avail. 

There was a fight going on around us, yes, but it all faded out as the guard leaned in, sparkling white teeth flashing in my direction. All I could hear was the pumping of my blood hurtling through my veins, erasing any sound from around me. 

And his eyes, they were like mine. A coincidence, no doubt, but jarring nonetheless. They stared into my own with a bright curiosity that looked too much like mine to settle my warring mind. 

"The Soldier," he hissed, "is nothing but a product of the greatest science in the history of time. He's nothing. Just a little bitch."

"We're taking him," I grunted, still fighting him. 

He cocked an eyebrow. "You can take him," he sneered, "but he'll never be human. He's always going to be someone's bitch. Answering to whatever command he's given."

"Shut the fuck up already, would you?" I was surprised by a long, slender arm wrapping its way around the neck of my attacker, Cara's face rising into my view. Tightening her grasp on him, she pulled his attention away from me and onto her. Before long, he'd gone unconscious. She gave me a look, letting me know what she was about to do.

I looked away before she snapped his neck.

No matter how many times I heard about it, I wasn't sure I would ever get used to seeing someone's life be taken so abruptly. I wasn't sure I wanted to get used to it. 

"Come on, I can't do this all by myself," she gasped, finally showing some fatigue. 

As I looked over my friend, I saw her face, cuts on her lips and bruises starting to purple on her arms and neck. I absentmindedly traced the light bruises on my neck from—

Where was he?

I turned around and felt my chest deflate. Bucky was sitting with his back against the wall, his face hidden as he sat with his knees pulled to his chest. He was regressing, not just to his former state of human, but to a former psychological state. He was losing himself, right before my eyes.

"We—we don't have time for this," Cara whispered, and though her words were blunt, I saw the sorrow in her eyes. "The others aren't going to wait around all day."

"The others?" The hope was evident in my tone. "Everyone—?"

Cara nodded firmly. "Everyone. Including that godforsaken blond one." 

I allowed myself one lilt of a laugh. But I turned back to look at my love, my entire universe, curled up into a ball. "You go," I told her. "I'll get him."

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely not," she protested, ready to argue with her hip jutted to the side, but I gave her one nudge and she was stalking down the corridor and onto the next. "Fine," she hissed, "but you'd better stay there and wait for us to come back. I'm not going to be responsible for losing you two dumbasses in the middle of this damn place."

I waved her off, sucking in a clean breath. Well, it was as clean as it would get considering the stench of blood rising from the bodies littered on the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, clearing my mind. When I looked up, Bucky was still huddled on the floor, the silence now letting me hear his shaking breaths. 

My steps were light, soft, as I approached him. My hands rose slightly, but I halted when he shrunk from my presence, a tiny whimper escaping his lips. 

"Stop," he breathed, "I don't want to hurt you, too."

It's a little too late for that one, my conscience hummed sardonically, but I ignored it. "You won't hurt me," I said gently. "I'm here to help."

"That's what they all said," he whispered, his words muffled as he remained with his head on his chest. "They all wanted to help me." He looked at his hands, lifting his head so I could see the revulsion in his features. "And I did this."

I looked to the right of him, my breath hitching. On the side of him was a woman, her neck bent at an angle that could only mean one thing. I turned back to face him, my lips pulling down in what was surely going to be a permanent frown this time. "That wasn't you," I reassured him. "That was the person they made you."

"Well, that's who I am now, isn't it?" His voice broke. "This is who I am," he repeated, the words sinking in. He clenched his knees to his chest, beginning to rock. 

"No," I shook my head. "No, it's not."

His voice was nearly silent. "How do you know?" 

I took a small step towards him. "Is this okay?"

Bucky's head lifted to stare at my feet. He nodded, just slightly. 

Beginning to crouch down, I watched as his eyes slid up my body to finally meet mine. And this time, they weren't empty, just sad. The saddest I'd ever seen them. "What about this?" I asked. When he nodded again, I took a deep breath. "You're losing yourself, Bucky. The man you were proud to be. Let me help you find him." I sat on my haunches, still holding my hands where he could see them. 

His lips dropped open, just a whisper of space between them. Swallowing roughly, he spoke. "Say my name."

"Bucky," I answered his request, "your name is Bucky."

I watched, reveling the way he closed his eyes, tipping his head back as if in relief. It was like watching him drink a glass of cold water on a hot day. His throat bobbed, and I could practically hear his mind repeating it like a mantra, vowing not to forget it again. "Bucky," I whispered, trying my hardest to keep from leaning in and giving him the same experience that he would give me when saying my name. 

Oh, how I loved it when he said my name. I could only hope he would say it soon. 

But we were still stuck in the middle of this compound, surrounded by dead bodies. Cara and the others better be on their way back, I prayed. 

He opened his eyes, and when he met mine, I almost fell back at the sparkling blue depths. The darkness in them had seemed to fade, just by my saying his name. "My name is Bucky," he repeated, and his voice was more recognizable that time. I could almost hear his old self speaking through. 

Nodding, I held out my hands for him to take. "Is this okay?" I asked him, my mind flashing back to the first time I'd done this with him, all those months ago in my kitchen. I blushed as I remembered how that conversation ended up. 

Bucky looked up at me and furrowed his eyebrows. "It's okay," he said softly. 

I felt the cool metal in my right hand as I touched his left, careful not to flinch at the change in temperature. But when our flesh hands met, I could feel the shared shudder that passed through our bodies like an electric wave, resetting our bodies, our minds, reconnecting two lost puzzle pieces. 

He inhaled sharply, breathing out shakily. And when he looked up at me again, his eyes were full of wonder. "Elda," he hummed, just above a whisper, "your name is Elda."

Again, I was almost throwing myself at him in elation, absolute euphoria at the sound of my name on his lips again. But all I could do was nod breathlessly, "Yes. I'm Elda. I calm you down, remember?"

He returned the nod, clutching my hands for dear life, his metal arm nearly hurting me. But he stared at me, drilling a hole in my head, finally seeing me. 

"You..." he tried to start a new sentence but it seemed as though he got lost along the way as he tried to memorize my face. "You love me?" 

It was such a delicate question, such an uncertain topic for him that I actually felt my throat seize up and tears roll down my cheeks. I nodded. "I love you," I answered. "And you love me."

||

HOLY FUCK WHAT A CHAPTER TO COME BACK TO AM I RIGHT???

it's been a month and a half since i last updated, but i'm hoping that most(or all) of you stuck around because i was having a really rough time managing work and school and stress, so i was in a pretty bad mental state. now that i'm doing so much better, i decided to give writing a shot again.

and look what i came back with! bucky is on his way to remembering his old life with elda! literally crying, brb

anyway, i hope you guys liked this chapter! we only have three more chapters before the three end-credits/bonus chapters, and then this book is completely finished. oh, it's gonna be a sad day when i finish this book. 

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE BLACK WIDOW TEASER THOUGH

december 3, 2019