3
After a few minutes looking at the white wood of the door, he decided to knock. From inside he heard Daisy's voice.
“Come in,” and that's what he did. The room looked exactly like his, empty and sad, but the prensence of the girl made it a little brighter. She was wearing black shorts and a large shirt, her hair were wet and she had pulled them back. Without the make-up on, her eyes looked bigger and her lips were broken – he didn't know why he was seeing all those details.
“Lay down, I'm going to try something,” she said, waking him up. He reached for the bed, and did what she asked.
She hated that kind of stuff, but if the guy didn't remembered who he was she couldn't help him. It was a desperate try. She sat beside him, legs crossed and hands near his face.
“Close your eyes,” she said gently. “Focus on my voice and only my voice,” energy waves started passing through his body, making him shake a little. If she did something wrong, she could fry his brain. She wasn't Lincoln, but she could have.
“Do you remember your name?” she asked.
“No,” his voice was barely audible, distant. Daisy took a deep breath.
“Do you see something?” she asked again. He frowned a bit, but then relaxed.
“A guy – he's blond. He's wearing a uniform. I think I know him – no, I think I love him,” he was now talking clearly. It worked.
“Do you remember his name?”
“Steven,” he said without hestiation. “Steve Rogers.”
And then his breath got eavy, and Daisy could hear his heart running. She stopped the waves and put her hands on his shoulder, trying to hold him back onto the bed.
“Hey, hey calm down!” she said, pulling herself to him. “It's gonna be fine. Calm down,” her voice broke as he reaches for her neck, wrapping it with the metal hand. She was out of breath, and she reaches for his arm and his chest. She quaked his arm to let her go and then pulled him back – but it was her who jumped back gasping. He woke up and looked down at her, terrified.
“I know who you are,” she said, heavy breathing, tightening the fingers around the piece of cloth she was holding and looking at his arm. “You're Bucky Barnes.”
“Who?” asked Bucky. Daisy was still a little shocked. Bucky Barnes. Former soldier of the 107th Infantry Regiment, recruited to become a member of the Howling Commandos. And then HYDRA: it was always HYDRA.
“The guy you saw, Steve Rogers, is Captain America and you –” she got up a little aching. Damn, he was strong. “You are the Winter Soldier or whatever they called you,” she ended, getting again close to him. She was not afraid, after all he didn't remember anything of that – and he didn't. People like him had a strange look, like they knew something was missing in them but didn't know what. She saw that look on his father and, occasionally, on Coulson. It was like a part of them was gone, leaving behind nothing. She knew that feeling, like every other inhuman.
“I don't know what you're talking about – why I can't remember a single thing?” he asked. His voice was monotone, but he was scared. Daisy was hearing his heart, and she was feeling it, like it was in her bones and flesh.
“You are going to remember, Bucky, you just need to relax and let me try again,” she said in a gentle voice.
“No, not like that,” he answered immediatly. Daisy frowned a bit. She understood he was scared, but he if he wanted to remember that was the only way they could do that. They couldn't go to S.H.I.E.L.D. or anywhere else. It was just the two of them.
“I can help you, I studied the memories machine, I can reply the frequency and I know how to manage it, but you have to aid me,” she said again.
“But I don't want to hurt you again!” was his response, and Daisy went speechless. He sighed and looked at his arm, biting his bottom lip for a while. “I saw terrible things and got scared, and I – I don't even know what this dam thing is – but I almost suffocated you with it.” he pointed at his metal arm. “I know that was nothing compared to what I could see again,” he murmured. “And I don't want to hurt you.”
Daisy looked at him for a few seconds.
“Alright, but if you need something just tell me,” she said in a low voice. She then make a move that left them both a bit bewildered: she passed an hand over his head, making her way between his still-a-bit-wet dark hair. Then she smiled at him, and he smiled back. He knew he hadn't smiled like that in a long time, because it was almost like his face was hurted. But it was a real smile and, despite everything else, he was happy to smile at her.