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PROLOGUE — THE END
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I WAKE UP TO RED.
I open and close my eyes repeatedly—as if they belong to a child who wishes to see the world for the first time—until they finally fixate on a man seated before me. His caramel blonde hair is neatly combed to one side, making it much easier for me to see his eyes. It takes me a while to recognize his metallic blue irises glistening beneath the room's artificial light. I find myself rising up, ignoring the cries of my body to remain still, as the man rushes to my side. He places a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes my frail frame back down on the mattress.
"Carmen," he soothes, sliding a free hand beneath the light blue sheets to coil it around me. The way he says my name is different yet... familiar. My eyes flick up as my lips part when I try to speak, but the man shakes his head and forces a smile, saying, "You're all right, Carmen. You're all right."
But that's the thing—I don't feel alright.
All of a sudden, quick-cut images flash before my very eyes. Crimson flames rise from the ashes with countless silhouettes before me, fighting their way through the darkness. A man with a wicked grin appears out of nowhere. His skin, though impossible, is a dark shade of red, and his eyes are caved in as if his bones are inside out. I notice him holding something in his right hand. I try to make it out as he dragged it harshly against the crumbled ground. Snickering in delight, a wicked smile grows on his face. I realize that he has his eyes set on me, no one else. When I avoid his stare, that's when I see it—that's when I see him.
My breath hitches before I could even scream. Everything else blurs out, everything except for him.
Bucky's limp body is sprawled out on the corroded soil. His arms stretch out for me, but when I look into his eyes, they don't move. They're glassy, like a doll's, pale and dull.
It was Steve's touch that triggered me to remember bits and pieces of my past, and it was his voice that brought me back.
"Carmen—"
"Bucky," I say in a whisper. My heart aches, but for some cruel reason, I fail to remember why. I don't know who Bucky is and why I feel like a part of me died when I saw him.
What I do know is that I love him; I love him enough to want to remember. And so, my eyes trail back to Steve's, who looks at me with worry.
"Tell me, Steve. Make me remember."
He gazes down at me. I could tell that he's fighting the urge to fulfill my request because of the consequences that come along with it—consequences that he, too, will have to face, but when he brings his hand to hold mine, he could feel the desperation in my grasp. I need to know and I don't care how.
As if he read my mind, with a deep sigh, he asks, "Where do I start?"
"In the beginning."
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A U T H O R ' S N O T E
ok, this is like, the 12th time i'm reposting this. 😤😤 i keep trying to veer away from wattpad cause i literally just have no time to write on here frequently, but my heartaches when i don't write about my fucking fantasies so here ya go. i'm giving y'all this because i'm about to update the rest of my marvel fics too. enjoy, loves!
