Lena woke in a full sweat. The dreams always ended with her being strapped down. Or staring into terrified eyes before she pulled the trigger. Or worse yet, the horror in their faces as they realized she was not quite of this world. And then she would wake up screaming.
But they were getting better. Or at least that was what she had been telling herself the last few months.
Lena slipped out of bed, slipping her phone into the pocket of her baggy sweatpants, causing them to hang awkwardly on her hips. She padded to the kitchen to measure out coffee grounds. She considered that now, even just a few moments away from the edge of sleep, the memories faded, she could not quite recall them clearly. Only when she was asleep, when her brain lost control of itself did it have access to those memories.
Strange too , she thought, because in those days it was only ever in sleep that I could escape..
She filled the tea kettle with water, watching the birds outside squabble over nest building materials. It still felt unreal to be back in this city and so truly present. Like watching someone else, except this time it was her own life. She really did have it this time. And she had no idea where to start.
The therapist she was seeing kept telling her to do "normal person things" and so Lena had started with the routines she remembered from before. Coffee in the morning. Nothing else. But she had then figured that healthy people did eat breakfast, so she had added a toasted bagel to accompany the coffee.
But in establishing these routines, Lena found that her "normal" was still not quite right. "Normal" did not think warm thoughts and lay their hand on the tea kettle for it to begin steaming seconds later. "Normal" did not move across the kitchen to sift through mail and read the newspaper with such swiftness. "Normal" did not disrupt low quality radio signals when they walked past.
The therapist asked her if she wanted people to know.
"Know what?" Lena had asked.
"Know, about you. About who you are, what you've done."
"What kind of question is that? I don't even know what I've done."
"You know what I mean," the woman deadpanned.
"No. I want to live my life. A normal one. Whatever that means."
"Then do, just like we'd talked about, normal person things."
"But how can I," Lena said, her voice quivering ever so slightly, "normal people do not read fae lore and see themselves reflected so closely. They don't have electricity in them. They do not-"
"Then make that something you don't do. Yes, I know it seems counterintuitive. But make it a practice for the outside world. Like a little hat you put on. 'This is my normal person hat.' And then when you come here, or somewhere else you trust, you take it off."
Lena grinned, "So you're saying you want me to do this when I'm here?" She breathed deep and faded into shadow, still clearly visible if you knew she was there, but not so out of the corner of your eye.
The woman rolled her eyes, "Your, let's see what did you call it-"
"Liminal shift."
"Ah yes, liminal shift. That's not what I'm talking about. I think you know. Just keep your movement slow enough to match everyone else. Watch the electricity use. Watch other people. Just like your liminal shift, fade into their normalcy."
Lena blinked, bringing her back to the present, the coffee steeping on the kitchen counter, the letter in her hand addressed to "Miss Magdalena Lierens."
Frowning she ripped it open. It was an alumni letter, from a college she'd attended in the late 70's in a stint of freedom. How stupid she had been in those days to use her real name. And how they'd gotten her address she could not begin to dream. The letter welcomed her back from the Blip, wishing her well and asking if she would consider partnering with the university to fund part of the new buildings on campus. She smiled at it, recalling her time there, the happiest she had been. Little had she known they had just let her go because she had become too expensive to house. And that four years later they would bring her back.
She shook her head again. There was no way to keep the compulsively worrying circles out when she was alone.
A quick shower and change of clothes later she was on her way. It was Saturday, so there was next to nothing on her agenda. She did not know anyone in this century and the people she did could not be allowed to know she was alive. Mostly.
Driving through the city was still a terror, even after so many years spent on different continents. There was just something about New York's traffic that always unsettled her. Maybe it was the overly aggressive taxis. She nearly got hit by one even turning into the grocery story parking.
Just conditioner left I think, she thought, checking her notes app for the list she'd made this morning, and maybe a little snack for later.
It was still early enough that the bakery goods were not quite cooled, the smell of fresh bread leaching through the store. The smell took her back to the days before it had turned bad, the days when she had been a girl and walked freely in the streets of Berlin.
So long ago, she thought, watching the baker wrap up croissants for her, if only I had known to enjoy it more...before the end, before I lost myself. She shook her head, catching her reflection in the glass of the display case. The mildly inhuman traits that had been discovered by HYDRA's science division were inherent to who she was: the sharp of her cheekbones, the slight curve to her ear, it was not so difficult to see the fae supersoldier she had been. But there was a clarity in her eyes that had not existed for decades, there was nothing haunting behind them anymore.
"Here's your croissants ma'am," the baker said, jolting Lena out of her thoughts.
She thanked him and tucked them in her basket. Through the checkout line and to her car she remained lost in thought. And if I was never really free all those years, even in the 70's when I thought I was happy, how do I know who I am? What am I even doing? Do I even like croissants or do they just remind me of that little cafe in Berlin where I was happy? Of everyone I lost?"
Finally back in her car she pushed the thoughts away, knowing that much of what she thought she remembered was not accurate anyways. Nothing from her own brain could be trusted. Which hurt more than anything else. Because she did not know if she was picturing her baby's eyes as they were, or those of the long lost younger brother that should still be alive but she could not find a record of.
A problem for another day, she thought, narrowly wedging her car into a spot three blocks from her favorite coffee shop.
A second cup of coffee won't hurt, Lena thought, stepping into the shop with the intention to update her journal as her therapist had been so constantly nagging her about. Or read, I have been meaning to finish reading the Hobbit in english. Still so odd to think I didn't read it at publication.
The morning rush was just finishing and there were tables open thankfully. She gave her order and picked a table, pulling out her copy of The Hobbit disregarding the thought of her therapist's annoyance that she had not been journaling.
"Latte on the bar," the barista called, followed by the other barista, "hot chocolate on the bar!"
Walking the length of the shop she wrapped her fingers around the steaming cup, allowing the heat to absorb into her skin such that it would be drinking temperature immediately. She turned opposite of the way she had approached the bar and ran into a suspiciously dense shoulder that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
As the coffee jostled out of her cup and onto her fingers, onto her jeans, she thought a normal person gets coffee spilled on them and it stains their clothes, they do not form a protective shield to ward it off...the jeans will survive a coffee stain.
The coffee dripped along her fingers, to her jeans, nearly causing her to lose her grip on her cup. The man with the hot chocolate, jumped back as if she had shocked him, which was certainly a possibility. She hoped she had not, that would certainly not be a normal person thing to do.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" he said, looking like he had killed a puppy instead of bumped into her.
"It's okay, just a little coffee spillage," Lena said, meeting clear blue eyes.
"No no, that's more than half spilled," he said reaching for the towel the barista handed over the bar, "Let me buy you another."
"No it's okay, this is my second cup this morning anyway."
"No, I insist," he said, gently pulling the existing cup from her grasp.
Lena blushed and stood awkwardly to the side as the man pulled out his wallet after setting his hot chocolate down. Barely taller than herself he appeared much larger than Lena, broad shouldered, carefully trimmed hair, although she imagined it would look good grown out... she shook her head. Where did that come from? Uncalled for hairstyling suggestions for someone whose name I don't even know? He turned back to her and stuck out a gloved hand.
"My apologies, I'm James, James Barn-, Buchanan. James Buchanan" he said, correcting himself.
Lena chose to ignore the correction, "Magdalena Lierens, but I go by Lena," she said, feeling a sense of relief to use her real name and feel safe using it.
"Nice to meet you, and I truly do apologize. My spacial awareness isn't as good as it used to be," he said, a small grin passing across his features.
He walked her back to her table to wait for her cup of coffee, and sat across from her with hesitancy.
"Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment? I can grab you coffee for you."
"Sure, I was just reading anyway."
"Oh?" James said reaching out like he wanted to pick up the book.
Lena slid it across the table to him. Upon seeing the cover a slight smile ghosted across his features.
"This is one of my favorite stories," he said.
"Mine too, I've been rereading some favorites recently."
"What else?"
"Just some classics, Of Mice and Men or Gone With the Wind, stuff I should have read as a kid but didn't until later."
"I remember reading those when they came out- um, when the movies came out," he said, correcting himself.
"Latte on the bar!" the barista called out.
"I'll grab it for you," James said as Lena started to get up.
He came back, setting the coffee down next to her, careful not to spill any this time.
"It was nice to meet you James," Lena said as he turned to go.
He grinned over his shoulder, "If I get to call you by a nickname it's only fair that I share mine."
"Oh? Lena isn't much of a nickname, I've always gone by it."
"Well, I usually go by it anyways, or, at least I used to," he said looking lost for a moment, "that's a story for another time."
Lena raised her eyebrows, waiting.
"Bucky, I usually go by Bucky."
"Goodbye then Bucky."
He grinned and strode out the door of the shop.