The long lost Barnes

The Road to Healing

The days after Leia's awakening passed in a haze of confusion, urgency, and desperation. Each moment felt heavier than the last, like Bucky was dragging his own soul through an endless corridor of ghosts. Hydra's control over Leia's mind had done far more damage than they had initially understood.

The first night, Bucky stayed with her—by her side, pacing the sterile white room, looking at her, hoping that some part of her, any part of her, would recognize him. That she would see something in his eyes—something familiar—that would pull her out of the fog. But nothing happened.

She was still trapped in the prison Hydra had built inside her. The woman who had been his partner, his love, his anchor—was gone. Her mind had been wiped clean.

Leia had been sedated heavily that first night to allow her body to adjust to the medical procedures they'd had to perform. When she woke up, she was disoriented, staring at Bucky with a look of absolute terror in her eyes. She recoiled at his touch, her body stiff with the instinctive rejection of a life she didn't understand.

Bucky had been ready for this, but that didn't make it any easier. His chest ached, his body tense with the knowledge that his presence—something that used to comfort her, used to give her strength—was now an intrusion.

She didn't know who he was anymore. She didn't know who she was anymore.

The next day, Steve found Bucky sitting on the small couch in their shared quarters at the Avengers compound. The room felt empty, despite the presence of others, despite the bustling sounds of the compound's activities. Bucky's eyes were distant, unfocused, staring at the space between him and the wall. He had barely moved since the morning. His fingers were clenched in his lap, his knuckles white.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his own expression unreadable. "She's been through hell, Buck," he said softly, but there was no comfort in his tone—just a recognition of the truth.

Bucky didn't respond at first. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke. "I know," he muttered. "I know that. I've seen it. But I can't... I can't get through to her. I can't even make her see me."

Steve nodded slowly, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to the couch, sitting down next to Bucky. "She's not the same person she was before," Steve said gently, but the words were not an accusation. "Hydra didn't just change her—physically or mentally. They... broke her. She's not just lost her memories, Buck. They remade her. She's a stranger to herself. She's not the Leia you remember."

The name sounded strange in Bucky's mouth now, like a memory of someone who had never really existed. He had whispered it the day before—almost as if he were testing whether it was real. Leia.

Her name was a bittersweet taste, a promise of something he couldn't grasp. He remembered her laugh, the way she always braided her hair in the morning, how she would curl into him on the couch after a long day, her body relaxed against his, trusting him with all her heart.

Now, all of those memories felt like they belonged to someone else.

"I can't lose her again, Steve," Bucky finally said, his voice hollow. His eyes had gone glassy, like he was looking into a dark tunnel where he couldn't see the way out. "Not like this. Not after everything. Not when I know she's still in there."

Steve's gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know, Buck. I know. We'll get her back. But it won't happen overnight. And you need to be ready for that. She's not going to remember everything right away, and she's going to fight it. She's going to fight you. She's going to fight all of us."