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  "Sweetheart... Have you seen the keys to the shed?" Bucky called from the other side of the house.

   Willow sighed, trying to shout back, "They're sitting on the kitchen table moron." But she didn't have quite enough air to raise her voice above a whisper, so she waited patiently for Bucky to remember that.

  A few seconds later he came stumbling into the kitchen, repeating the question, "Willow, the keys?"

 "Table," Willow said, her voice ragged.

What a sorry pair they made. The older Bucky got, the more Willow could see the long term damage HYDRA had done to his brain when they erased his memory again and again. He still remember who she was, who Steve was, everything in the past. But he tended to forget things like locking the door at night, where he set things down, whether he'd already said something before. The older Willow got, well, the sicker she got. Neither Bucky or Willow aged on the outside, a result of the experimentation done on Bucky and Willow being a mutant. Yet the older Willow got, the harder it became for her to breathe, like something was slowly suffocating her. 

  "Thanks Willy." Bucky said, kissing the top of her head before heading out the door. Willow hoped he managed to not lock himself out.

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