Part 5

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Everything happened really fast after that day in the common room with Wanda. Shuri worked tirelessly in the lab trying to develop a softer approach to bringing back your memories. She believed if she could restore them fully, we would have the last piece of the puzzle.

Becoming the perfect war machine seemed like the most obvious use for the serum, but Steve reminded you Hydra always had something up their sleeve.

You really enjoyed living in Wakanda. Most days were spent in the gym training. Trying to harness the team's abilities was not so enjoyable. You worked with Wanda most. It helped that you were only 4 years older than her. She was younger than most of the team and had a dark past that seemed to mirror yours.

Most of your nights consisted of you, Wanda and Nat settling into the couch and cheesy eighties movies on the plasma TV. Bucky would often come out of his room and sit with you.

You really enjoyed Bucky's energy. Something about him just drew you to him. Maybe it was his smile, or the way he smelled like mint and nicotine, or that he read the newspaper and drank black coffee in the mornings. You weren't sure. One thing was for certain, the more time you spent together, the harder it became to leave him. Bucky would tell you about his past and how he used to have to bail little 'Stevie' out of bar fights and ally brawls every other day. He made you laugh like no one really did. When he told you about his time with Hydra and how they would control his mind you would rake your fingers through his hair and whisper to him he wasn't alone anymore.

As the days melted into weeks, the horrific nightmares began to grow legs. It was one of the many side effects from Shuri's digging. Some days it felt like Hydra knew you would try to remember and this was their fail-safe. Every time you began to drift off you'd see Tommys pale face, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. You swear, right before he stumbled off the edge of the bridge you saw him say something. You could never remember when you woke, nor could you recall any other detail other than Tommy. It felt wrong. You felt wrong. Like he wasn't yours to grieve.

One particular bad night, you remember waking up screaming. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as your tears seared down your cheeks. The only thing that grounded you after that was the small knock that echoed from the other side of your door.

"Hey, doll. Let me in?" His voice was soft and smooth and the only thing that seemed to bring you back to the dimly lit bedroom. You stared at the ceiling for a solid minute before slowly rising and crossing the room. Gently, you opened the door just a crack and looked up. There stood a sleepy-eyed Bucky. He sported a baggy pair of grey sweats and an old beat up tank, his arms on full display. In normal circumstances, you believed that that was enough to knock you out of any state. You wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on people. Or worse, if he knew the effect he had on you.

"Can't sleep, keep me company?" He spoke, huskily. You could tell he had just woken up. Sleep still clouded his eyes, and the yawn he tried to stifle gave him away. You appreciate what he was trying to do, so instead of calling the man out, you opened the door, and welcomed the Super Soldier in.

You talked for hours that night. He didn't ask about your nightmare, which you appreciated. You had recited the images to Shuri about thirty times in the past week. It was the only memory that seemed to come back. It replayed over and over on a continuous loop through your mind. This moment with Bucky was a welcomed break.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" You finally spoke. Bucky and you had found your way onto your bed at some point. His right arm draped around your shoulder, as you leaned on his chest. He cracked his neck to look down at you.

"Of course." He offered, shifting onto his side so he could really look at you.

"Does it ever stop? I'm so exhausted, all I want to do is sleep but I- I'm so scared. I don't want to see it again... What if it never-" Your voice broke off, shutting your eyes tight to stop a tear from escaping.

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