𝟕𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝓐𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼

The room suddenly felt increasingly small and stuffy, like the walls were getting closer, making me sweat and my breathing quicken.

I practically ran outside, and when a faint breeze hit my face and enveloped my body in a chill, I relaxed- more than I was before at least.

I felt like my brain could implode at any minute, from the sheer amount of information kept in there. Leads, constantly being fitted together- making sense.

Light bulb moments.

I sat down on some stone stairs around the corner of the building, leaning my head against a concrete wall. Not entirely comfortable, but it enabled me to think.

Steve Rogers is captain America. Straw blonde hair, blue eyes, the 'perfect American'. James B Barnes is Bucky, whom I had not seen. I had met Steve, however, on the first day I woke up.
He was distraught when he saw me; he started to cry for gods sake.

That just added to my suspicion. I think it was time for me to accept that something was wrong here.

They were keeping secrets- something happened before that coma.

It was crazy. But it would explain so much. Why I couldn't actually picture memories. Why the tower had seemed to change to accommodate so many more people.
Why F.R.I.D.A.Y- an extremely intelligent robot- had gone to say 1917.

The board had said 'golden couple'. If someone- if.........i, was Bucky's.......girlfriend back then, I deserved to meet him.

If Steve came and saw me: why didn't James? I just had to come to the conclusion that everything was too much of a close coincidence to be lies.

Everything was fishy. I didn't know who I could trust anymore; I didn't know what was real.

Why didn't I remember? Why couldn't I remember? It got me agitated. I wanted answers, I just wanted to know what crucial parts of my life were being missed out.

Why weren't they telling me was what I wanted to know. Was it to 'protect me?'

I heard heavy footsteps on the concrete right next to me, scaring me into opening my eyes at once against the blinding sun and seeing a tall man before me.

"Hello." He said to me, in a thick laced Russian accent that screamed danger.
"Hi." I faked a timid smile and stood up to be more on his level, making me feel a bit more relaxed.
And then he pulled out a gun.

****

"Then what?" Tony was asking me in my bedroom, sat on my bed with me, looking gravely pale.

"I don't remember." I stated, feeling the urge to cry for some reason but holding it back just about. "The next minute he was on the floor, all......burnt. Still and........Dead. Then you were there and- and then the jet ride back and now I'm here."

When I'd finished, he rested a hand on my shoulder gently.

"Okay." Was all he said, getting up and heading for the door. I didn't know if he was annoyed at me, obviously I just....killed...someone. I didn't want to just leave it at that.

"Tony. You've got to give me something here. You cant just leave me with 'okay.' Why don't I remember?"

I flicked back to the museum. I hadn't told him I'd gone inside, just that I was sitting around there. And in terms of my memories. Yes, I was dann scared. I killed someone. God, I killed someone. And I don't remember how I did it. I seem not to be remembering a lot of things.

Could it just be trauma?

Or was it Tony or whatever people that took away my 1940s ones.
I'd really come to terms with it.

I was her.

Steve must be my brother.

And James, well,
he was my lover.

And at that point, was where things really got interesting.

"Look, Tony." I said, almost shouting when he didn't reply. He looked a little shocked at my volume.

"I saw the captain America exhibit. Ever since I woke up I can tell something has been off. I've been piecing things together. Look. It's my business. I-I." I stuttered as Tony looked on. I don't think his jaw could get any closer to the floor.

"i want my memories back." I commanded, and the somewhat accompanied silence immediately following was deafening while Tony took the words in.

It seemed to stretch for hours. Just waiting for him to say something. Waiting and waiting and waiting in the room, the muffled sounds of New York city traffic and a clock ticking softly on the wall the only sounds.

Until he turned around, and left the room.
I laughed bitterly. Just running away from his problems. Maybe I didn't even want to stay here with him. I'd find somewhere else- a nice apartment. Away from all of this. Because if they weren't going to tell me anything and I actually had to rely on the internet to tell me instead, I might as well have a nice private life somewhere in the city.

But just then he came back through my door.
With........
Steve.

Seeing this man in the completely new light I'd found made me feel......unsure. I couldn't just jump to conclusions immediately and say I'd missed him and all that crap when honestly I didn't remember.

"Y/n." Steve started.
"You know....everything?" He asked and I shrugged.

"Pretty much." The room was a little quiet after that as Steve dropped his head.

"And do you remember everything?" He asked

"Nothing." I replied and he nodded, turning to Tony.

"Shuri. Only person that can help." He muttered to Tony before glancing at me again and leaving the room. Who was...shuri? Was that what he said?

I felt tired, and I'd started to get a headache, most likely from heatstroke after I walked all of that way without water.

"Hey." I called Tony, standing aimlessly in the centre of the room. "Bucky. He's here. I want to meet him." I straightened, to try and gain control in the room.

They better start giving me answers.