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Captain Rogers marched Bucky into the med bay in the Playground, his hand firmly holding Bucky just above the man’s flesh elbow. Director Coulson followed a step behind the pair on Bucky’s left, offering silent support and ready to act in case of Bucky being triggered.
Coulson felt partially responsible for Barnes’ current state. Captain Rogers had contacted Coulson directly, hoping the Director would let his new specialist out for a run with the Avengers. Steve had wanted his friend at his back for this mission, taking down a sect of Hydra fanatics. Bucky had been eager to help his friend, but Coulson had a bad feeling about the op. But who could say no to Captain America’s labrador puppy face, especially combined with the puppy eyes of Barnes.
But now Barnes was back—or it was safer to say the Winter Soldier was back. One of the Hydra fanatics had somehow learned the words to trigger Barnes into asset mode, spouting them off before any of the Avengers could shut him up. Then, as the Captain reported, the man had held an electric cattle prod to the side of Bucky’s head before Steve was able to disable the man with his shield and extracted Bucky.
Coulson and Rogers weren’t sure what would happen since the Soldier hadn’t been given any orders. But it was clear Barnes was locked away inside his head, only responding to direct orders from Steve, showing no recognition to Coulson or any of his new team with SHIELD.
Rogers had Bucky sitting on an exam table, speaking softly to his friend, before nodding to the nurse to approach.
“Director.”
Coulson turned at the breathless voice, one of his resident geniuses running around the corner. He stepped out of the exam room, letting the glass doors slide close behind him. Rogers had heard her voice, looking at Coulson with gratitude.
“Jemma.” He put his hand out to slow her charge.
She frowned at him, trying to look over his shoulder. “Coulson. What’s going on? I heard the Captain was taking him to the med bay.”
“As far as we can tell he’s not physically harmed.” Coulson proceeded to tell her the quick report Rogers had given him, her hand coming up over her mouth with horror.
“Please, I need to see him.”
Before Coulson could reply, a doctor stepped out to join them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Dr. Simmons.”
“Explain, Dr. Gerald.” Coulson snapped more harshly than he should have but didn’t care at the moment.
The young doctor sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “The combination of the trigger and the electrical shock has caused Specialist Barnes to have memory loss. It’s,” the doctor sighed. “It’s as if he remembers who he is, as James Barnes, and remembers Steve. But he doesn’t remember anything to do with Shield or anyone associated with it recently.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t know me?” Jemma’s eyes were wide, face pale. Dr. Gerald gave her a look of sincere sympathy.
“Not right now. But I’m hopeful that his memories will return on their own.”
“What is your suggestion, Dr. Gerald?” Coulson asked, reaching out to settle a comforting hand on Simmons’ shoulder.
“Right now, to give him the space he needs to heal. We can’t put any pressure on him, not with being unable to—for lack of a better term, untriggering him.”
“I can’t see him.” Jemma’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“Let him come to you. That’s my advice.” Dr. Gerald went back into the exam room. Rogers’ face was torn as he looked out to see Jemma clinging to Coulson.
Bucky’s face was blank, still the Winter Soldier.
It had been two weeks since Bucky raced off with Steve. He could feel a piece of him missing, and he understood it had to deal with the new team he had joined. He hadn’t stayed with Steve and the Avengers, too much history between him and the others.
It was odd, walking around the facility. He felt safe, secure, but Bucky couldn’t place the people’s faces he passed in the halls. He met May, immediately liking her and her no bullshit attitude. He believed her when she said they were friends, training together regularly and that memory loss or no, she expected him to be down at the gym at 7 am sharp, joining her in her tai chi before combat exercises.
He was on his way back to his rooms when he found himself passing a lab—not remembering how he’d gotten there. He looked through the glass and saw a woman with long hair pulled away from her face, face filled with laughter at something the man with the curly hair had said.
Her face shone with happiness. Her hair floating softly around her face. Eyes locked onto his. Her joy was contagious. She reached for him, her arms covered in delicate white lace. She pulled him forward, and he went with a smile. He could feel other people there, cheering around them.
Bucky shook his head, the memory wisping away. He realized he was still staring at the two scientists, who by now had noticed him. She was no longer smiling as she stared at him. Pain stabbed through his stomach and he fled.
He woke from a nightmare, body covered in sweat, blood still rushing with panic. He reached out with a searching hand, finding an empty bed. He wasn’t sure why it filled him with such sorrow, but he curled onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest as silent sobs wracked through his body. He mourned the loss of warm arms around him, graceful fingers brushing through his hair even though he had no memory of that ever occurring.
“So, are you thinking burgers or Mexican?” Daisy propped her feet up on the dash in front of her, staring at the road ahead of them. She had found him after his training with May as he was on his way to grab lunch at the mess hall. The spunky woman had nearly manhandled him to the garage, him laughing at her attempts and the familiarity of it, declaring her immediate loss of sanity if she had to eat in the mess hall that day.
“Mexican,” Bucky responded without thinking, switching to the right lane to take the next right. He realized he must like Mexican food if the feeling of satisfaction shooting through him was any indicator.
“Good choice, my man.” Daisy was much like May, ignoring his memory loss, though she still treated him with caution. Never digging at him to remember, choosing instead to show him their friendship.
He looked over at the woman in the passenger seat and she tossed a cheeky grin at him as he drove.
She was carrying on about some article in the journal she’d received that month. The sun was shining, and they were driving with the windows down. Her hair was down, blowing crazily in her face from the wind. But she didn’t pay it any attention, it matched her ire at the article. He remembered feeling he could watch her forever when she stopped, mid-rant and looked at him. He remembers telling her she’s beautiful and he remembers her blushing, before desperately trying to smooth her hair back under control.
“Whoa dude, you’re going to miss Mazatlan. Left! Left!” Daisy’s voice interrupted his memory. He flipped on his blinker and pulled into the parking lot, slowing down smoothly enough to cover the lapse in his thoughts.
“Zoned out there, buddy?”
He looked at Daisy after he parked, a frown on his face. “I think I was remember something.”
She grinned but didn’t push—which he appreciated. “Probably how amazing the Carne Asada is here. Come on!”
He was exhausted. The op had gone as planned, but he’d still had to jump off of a collapsing building. More of a barn really, but he still felt battered and bruised. He’d just gotten out of Fitz’ lab, somehow one of the plates in his arm had gotten jammed and Bucky couldn’t shower without risking shorting out the arm with the inside mechanics exposed. Fitz declared him fully operational again, clapping him on the shoulder and ordering him to shower as he smelled like “bloody fertilizer”.
He thought longingly of bed, not watching where his feet were carrying him. Later he would think about how comfortable he felt here in the facility, that he wasn’t on edge all the time.
“Oh,” a voice spoke right in front of him. He looked up, realizing he’d almost plowed over the scientist he’d seen with Fitz.
“Sorry,” He grinned ruefully. “I was just trying to get back to my room.”
“You were?” Her voice was oddly hopeful and he studied the woman. She looked achingly familiar. He felt the blank spot in his mind being pushed at.
“Dr. Simmons, right?” He guessed, nerves flaring in his stomach at her smile.
“Yes! But you call me Jemma.” Her eyes darted to the floor and back up, brimming with tears. He had the oddest sensation to wipe them away. “Or Jem.”
“Jemma.” He tried the name, feeling heat rush through him as the name floated on his tongue. A memory started to break past the blankness but then it was gone and he shrugged. The light in her eyes dimmed, and he felt horrible.
“I must have taken a wrong turn.” He turned away from her, not able to stand the look on her face. “I’m sorry.”
Bucky wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.
A month after the fateful op, Bucky felt almost back to normal. He knew that he was still missing some parts of his time with his new team, but he was growing to accept that he may not recover everything he’d lost.
He found himself passing her lab again. He found himself drifting to her lab when he had any spare time, but Bucky had never worked up the courage to go inside. He always seemed to make her sad, and he knew she deserved better. But no one, not even Daisy would tell him what had happened to her to make Jemma so sad.
Her lab door was open, which wasn’t something that happened frequently. She was humming a familiar tune, the sound drifting out and washing over him. He leaned his back up against the wall, next to the door, eyes closed as he listened to her heart ache.
His head was in her lap, eyes closed and fully relaxed for the first time in days. She held a book in one hand, resting it on his chest as she read, the other hand’s nails lightly scraping through his hair. She hummed while she read, something he thought was incredibly endearing.
“What are you humming?” Bucky had to ask.
She broke away from her reading, looking down at him with warmth in her eyes. “It’s called Hallelujah.”
“I like it.” He closed his eyes, nuzzling into her stomach.
“Me too.”
The memory ended as the voice stopped. Bucky’s eyes snapped open, mind flooded with memories. He threw himself around the open door, barreling into Jemma’s lab—all the training in stealth and grace absent in his flight.
Jemma looked up, startled at his wild entrance. He stared at her, feeling like he was drowning but that it was alright.
“Love is not a victory march.” He whispered, speaking before even thinking.
“It’s a cold and broken hallelujah,” she replied, ending on a sob.
He threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her, needing to be as close as possible to her. Her hands gripped his shirt, holding him as desperately.
“Please tell me you know who I am.” His heart broke at her voice.
Bucky pulled back, only enough to look down at her face.
“You’re Jemma.”
He kissed her forehead.
“My Jem.”
He kissed her nose.
“My wife.”
Their lips crashed together, his hands coming up to bury them in her hair. Her small hands wrapped around his neck pulling him down to her. She was crying, her tears spilling onto his skin. He chased them away, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, anywhere he could reach, murmuring apologies in between.
“I was so scared you weren’t going to remember me.” Jemma hiccuped.
“I’m so sorry it took me this long.”
Jemma looked up at him, skin flushed with happiness, eyes brimming with tears again but this time from joy. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Specialist.” She tried to grin.
He bent down and kissed her again. “Orders understood, Doc. Now let’s go home.”
Bucky swept a laughing Jemma up in his arms, marching them to their rooms. Neither noticed Fitz and Coulson outside the lab, having stopped when they saw Bucky and Jemma together through the glass.
The two men grinned at each other before continuing on, happy that their family was right again.