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sixteen

PART THREE - CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR

   "Are you going into the market today? I want some blueberries." My question is met with a soft glare. "What? They're good."

   "I'm not getting you anything until you tell me what you remember." His voice is gruff and stern as he looks at me.

   "I've told you! I can't remember anything. The only things that've come back are my name and why I have these dog tags, and even that is vague." I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair.

   "That's a lie and you know it. I've seen you click away from the news channel every time they're showing something about the Avengers, you turn it off as soon as you realize I'm there. They have to do with your past." He pulls a hat onto his head, still looking at me. "I tell you what I remember. Why can't you do the same?"

   "Because, Bucky, it might not be right." I emphasize his name and reach for the tags on my neck, twisting the metal between my fingers. He only told me his name was Bucky, no last name or whether Bucky was a nickname of some sort.

   "What are those tags from?"

I shrug slightly. "I'd imagine a soldier. After all, they're identification tags."

"Stop being a smartass. Where'd you get them?" His voice raises a little, showing how serious he was. Bucky was right. I hadn't been telling him nearly as much as he told me, and it was wrong.

We were all each other had now, the only ones we could trust were each other. "Fine . . . I wasn't lying when I said everything is vague. Even if I do remember something, it's—it's fuzzy and sometimes it doesn't make sense."

I pull the tags off my neck. "As for these tags . . . I remember when they last took me and wiped my memory. When I was changing before I left to go to the Insight launch with Pierce, this was the only thing I could get. I didn't know why, I just knew I needed them."

   "I've been putting a few pieces together and I'm pretty sure that they have to do with you." I watch as he's about to open his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "Now, I know what you're gonna say and I realize I should've said something sooner, but I really wanted to make sure I was at least somewhat right. I'm sorry." I hand the tags to him so he can look them over.

He's silent for a good minute or so, just staring at the metal identification tags.

His vibrant blue eyes turn away from the item, looking up to meet my brown ones. "This is me, isn't it?"

". . . I think so, yeah."

• • •

   "Steve?" Natasha's voice rings out as she knocks on the side of his door. She steps inside, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you okay?"

   He's quiet, not looking at her. "She hasn't responded. She didn't show up." When Steve's blue eyes decide to meet Nat's, they're filled with unshed tears, making her only slightly uncomfortable. "It's been weeks since Sokovia, Nat. I don't—I don't think she's coming back. I don't think she even remembers us."

   Natasha tries to be comforting, but it isn't in her nature to be so soft. She sits down on the bed next to him, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "We don't know that. We don't even know if she got our message, she's been off of our radar for months. For all we know, she could've found a nice place to stay and is okay."

   "For all we know, she could be dead. Search and Recovery found remains in the river." Steve's pessimism throws Nat off, usually he was the optimistic one.

   "Steve, you and I both know that those aren't confirmed to be hers. It's a HYDRA agent. You know that." Natasha tries to help by bringing some solid information into the conversation, but he doesn't budge. Her jaw tenses, her demeanor quickly becoming one of coldness. "Fine. But just so you know, you're not the only one that misses Raven, and instead of crying over it, you could get off your sad ass and try to help us find her."

• • •

"You said you could go inside people's heads, pry around their mind to—to find things." Bucky mentions a previous memory I had shared with him a month or so ago. I had decided to share it when I had gotten flashes of a place I remembered being called Asgard. I'd went on a trip there with someone, but every time I try to think of who, I come up with nothing. Apparently, it was a trick I had learned while I was there, I think a type of sorcerer taught it to me.

". . . Yes, I can." I reply hesitantly, not liking the idea he seemed to be getting.

"I want you—I need you to go into my mind, find the memories I lost." Bucky flips the dog tags over and over in his hand, running his thumb over the metal.

"Bucky . . . I'm not sure that this is the best way. What if I mess something up, or make you forget even more?" I express my concern.

   "It might not be the best way, but it's the only option. You're not going to mess anything up, just help me. Please."