Reminisce: Dear O,

Prologue

                Sharon Carter clung to the small, grey backpack. She had stolen it when she had stolen back Captain America's shield and Sam's falcon gear. Why she thought to grab it at the time, she never really discovered, but it seemed like the right thing to do then. She believed James Buchanan Barnes was misunderstood because she trusted in Steve Roger's character. The only reason she had held onto it when she gave them their gear in Berlin was because she was scared what was inside of those journal pages. The psychologists never got a chance to get their hands on it, given that Helmut Zemo had been a faux-psychologist posing as a man he had killed. It was all a flurry of chaos in the past, and Sharon had gotten herself enough off the grid that she had the chance to read some of what was inside those pages. Even though it was not hers to read, and she had been given no explicit permission to read them, she felt as though she had earned it given that Barnes had tried to kill her.

       But the things she read made her feel sick to her stomach, most of it at least. There was at least a dozen journals inside that backpack, some old with pages torn out, and some newer that weren't even finished. Reading through the gory stuff, the stuff that would stay in the back of her mind when she closed her eyes, that was the easier stuff to read. When she found entries that were intended for Ophelia, Sharon put the journals down. To pry into a violent man's head was one thing, something her job often made her do. But digging through a relationship that was not her own, one that she would never fully understand, that was outside of her comfort zone.

       There was no real way for her to contact Steve, not anymore. She too was on the run because of what she had done against the rules and laws. T'Challa had located her, contacted her, and convinced her to come to Wakanda to see Steve. Finding her way there was not easy, but T'Challa had things in order that only a king could manage, and Sharon found herself standing in a beautiful building within an even more stunning forest, waiting for Steve to show up. When he arrived, he had dark circles underneath his eyes. Sharon gave him a grave look; she was not caught up to speed with anything, and living in the dark was eating away at her. Seeing Steve looking as though he'd been hit by a bus, it made her pulse increase, but being the stern woman she was, Sharon did not show it.

        "It's good to see you," Steve said, stopping a metre away from her and clasping his hands in front of him.

        "What's your plan?" She asked, shrugging the backpack on her shoulder so that it sat more comfortably. Steve had not yet noticed it, his eyes were politely trained on Sharon.

       "Rescue op," he said. "I don't expect you to come, or to agree with it. I've already caused you enough of a headache."

       "Steve, what's wrong?" she asked, looking through the plan and seeing a look in his eyes.

       Steve sighed deeply, and it felt as though the entire building sunk with his shoulders. "It's... Things took a bad turn."

       She slid the backpack over her shoulder and handed it to him. "This is for your friend. I think he'd want it back."

      "He's back in cryo."

        She widened her eyes in surprise, but composed herself in a split second. "Some of it is addressed to Ophelia, maybe she can find something in these journals. Or did she go under too?"

        Steve stared at her, his hands had unclasped and he had half reached for the backpack. Only when Sharon closed the gap and put the strap in his hand did he speak, the words having evaded him for a moment. It was all too fresh, all too new. Bucky had been under for two days, and Ophelia had been dead for five. "Ophelia didn't make it."

         Sharon's eyes narrowed, as if she didn't believe or understand what Steve was saying. She almost wanted to take the backpack back from him, because what was in there would not make Steve feel better about anything. Perhaps he could find solace in the kind words Bucky wrote to Ophelia, a few full journals dedicated to her that Sharon didn't finish, and also suspected Ophelia had never seen before. She pressed her lips tight together. "It's dark stuff, Steve."

         "I need to know." He stood a bit taller, as if showing that he was upset about Ophelia was showing weakness as well. But what it showed to Sharon was his utter humanity. "I need to know that he was happy, even just for a short time. She was the light of his life, the reason he is here today."

          Sharon released her grip on the second backpack strap, and it swung a few times before Steve slipped both straps over his forearm like he would his shield. A silent moment passed between them, and then Sharon walked up and kissed his cheek, "Keep in touch, Steve, I don't want to lose you."

          Standing alone over the very few personal effects that Bucky had, Steve let the backpack hover over the clothing. All Bucky had when he arrived here was the clothes on his back, and Ophelia. As Steve stared at the small pile of salvageable clothing that was in the bin labelled "James Buchanan Barnes", he noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the boot. Grabbing it, he saw on the front it read, "Ophelia."

         A letter she would never get to read.