Through the Dark // Bucky Barnes

01 - It's All Forgotten Now

It was always the same. Every single night.

I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to me like an icy fog. The same dream, always the same: me, powerless, watching as my mother was hurt. Her face blurred by smoke, her cries lost in the haze, and then—nothing. Silence. Death.

I couldn't tell if those nightmares were echoes of memories or just my brain's twisted way of torturing me. I had no recollection of my life before waking up in that hospital bed three years ago, mind as blank as the sterile walls around me. No childhood memories, no teenage misadventures—just the name they found on my ID: *Genevieve Bennett.* That's all I had.

"Hey, baby," Erik's voice cut through the dark thoughts swirling in my head, a lifeline I clung to. He climbed into bed beside me, his warmth chasing away the cold tendrils of the nightmare. "Rough night again?"

I turned to him, forcing a small smile. Erik had been my constant since the day I left the hospital, a week after my discharge. We met at his parents' coffee shop, where I used to stop for a muffin every Thursday before my appointments with the psychiatrist. Back then, I was a shell of a person, clinging to anything that could anchor me to reality. Erik became that anchor, and slowly, we built a life together—one I could only half believe was real.

"Same old, same old," I sighed, brushing my hair back. "It's like my brain doesn't want me to rest."

Erik's brows furrowed in concern, his lips brushing against my forehead in a tender kiss. "Just keep taking the pills, Gen. They'll help." His words were soft, but they carried a weight of concern. He didn't like seeing me this way—haunted and tired, stuck in a life I barely remembered.

I reached for the pills on my bedside table, the white plastic bottle an all-too-familiar sight. Popping two into my mouth, I swallowed them with a dry gulp, the bitterness lingering on my tongue.

"Can you drop me off at the interview later?" I asked, sliding out of bed and heading for the closet. I thumbed through my limited wardrobe, eventually pulling out a plain black dress that didn't quite feel like me, but then again, what did?

Erik sat up, watching me with a wary expression. "You sure about working for that guy? Stark doesn't exactly have the best reputation when it comes to being, you know, normal."

I shot him a look as I fumbled with the zipper at the back of my dress. He sighed and stood to help me. "We've talked about this, Erik. It's not about Stark. It's about the technology—he has resources no one else does. If there's even a chance that working for him could help me find my family—"

"I know, I know," he muttered, his hands brushing the skin of my back as he zipped up the dress. His touch lingered, warm and steady, grounding me in the moment. "I just don't trust the guy."

"Baby, he's *Iron Man*," I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "If things go well, I'll be in Avengers Tower, probably the safest place on the planet."

He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I just want you to be careful, Gen." His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his voice softening. "I don't want you to get hurt chasing something you might never find."

I leaned into him, placing a light kiss on his lips. "I'll be fine. And you know what? I might even find answers this time."

His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close. "Come on, let's go before I decide to keep you here all day," he said, his teasing tone coaxing a genuine laugh out of me.

We left the apartment, stepping into the biting chill of New York winter. Erik's silver Jeep sat waiting for us by the curb, its windows slightly fogged from the cold. As we climbed in, the heater kicked in, wrapping me in a warmth that temporarily numbed the constant ache of not knowing. Not knowing my past, not knowing where I came from, not knowing if I'd ever find answers.

The drive was quiet, as it often was. Erik knew when to give me space, and I used the time to stare out the window, lost in thought. I could never stop trying, could never shake the gnawing desperation to unlock the memories buried deep inside my fractured mind. *Who was I before the accident?* *What happened to my family?*

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. It had been three long years of nothing—no breakthroughs, no glimpses of the life I'd lost. Just... emptiness.

Erik's hand gently squeezed mine, pulling me back to the present. I glanced at him, offering a weak smile.

"I'm okay," I whispered, though we both knew I wasn't.

As we pulled up in front of the towering Stark Industries building, Erik turned to me, his eyes filled with encouragement. "You've got this. You're amazing. They'd be idiots not to hire you."

I kissed him quickly before stepping out of the Jeep. "I love you," I said, the words still feeling unfamiliar on my tongue, like I was trying on someone else's life for size.

"Love you too," he replied, watching me as I headed toward the building's entrance.

Inside, the receptionist greeted me with a bright smile. "Ms. Bennett, Ms. Potts is expecting you. Eleventh floor."

I thanked her and made my way to the elevator, my heart pounding a little faster with each step. The thought of working for Tony Stark—*the* Tony Stark—was still surreal. But it wasn't just the job. I had a mission, and I couldn't afford to fail. Stark had the resources, the technology—he might even be able to help me recover my lost memories.

The elevator doors opened, and I was greeted by the AI's voice. "Ms. Genevieve Bennett, Mr. Stark is ready for you."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Jesus, that scared the hell out of me," I muttered.

"Nice to meet you, too," came a voice from the other side of the room—sarcastic, amused. Tony Stark, sitting behind a sleek desk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Sorry," I blurted, still trying to shake off the surprise. "I didn't realize—"

"Relax," he said, waving a hand. "Friday scares everyone at least once."

I stepped forward, trying to regain my composure. "I thought I was meeting with Ms. Potts."

"You are," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "But I figured if my fiancée thinks you're good enough to replace her, I should probably meet you myself. So, Genevieve Bennett, what's your favorite color?"

I blinked, thrown off by the question. "I... um, I—"

"Don't worry, I don't care," he interrupted, smirking. "But let's cut to the chase, Ms. Bennett. Why do you want this job?"

Before I could answer, the elevator doors slid open again, and a voice that felt strangely familiar echoed through the room.

"Stark, we've got a problem."

I turned, my breath catching in my throat as I locked eyes with *Captain America*. Except he wasn't in uniform. He was just... Steve Rogers. And the look on his face was one of pure shock.

"What's she doing here?" Steve asked, his voice tense. "How is she even here?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "You... you know me?"

His eyes softened, but his confusion remained. "Yes. From the 1940s."