I woke up the next afternoon, feeling more exhausted than when I'd fallen asleep. I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to take a shower. As I turned the water on, I glanced in the mirror. The bruises on my neck were slightly lighter than they had been, but still noticeable. I made a mental note to try and cover them before going to talk to Bucky.

I thought of what on earth I was going to say to him while standing under the water, slowly shutting my eyes and leaning forward against the shower wall slightly. Steve was right, I knew it; I needed to give him time. I knew he needed to remember things on his own with minimal help from me.

But I didn't want to give him time.

All I really, truly wanted was to have my Bucky back. I wanted to burst into the room and proclaim my love for him and tell him everything that had happened since that day we went and got bagels.

An overwhelming sense of dread settled over me as the water poured over me. For months Bucky had been the most solid, comforting thing in my life, and now God only knew if he'd ever be back to the man that had fallen in love with me.

Before I knew it, the water was running cold and I was stepping out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out into my room, grabbing clothes from the dresser as I went. After getting dressed I went back into the bathroom and stop in front of the mirror uneasily. I ran my fingers through my wet hair before separating it and doing two braids down the back of my head.

I pulled the collar of my jacket tighter around my neck so it covered the majority of the bruising as I left the room and walked down to the kitchen. Wanda and Clint sat at the counter eating sandwiches silently, and Steve stood in front of them staring down at a glass of water.

"Hi," I said casually, passing through to the living room and beginning to scan the shelves surrounding the television.

"Hey," Clint replied shortly.

My eyes flicked over to Steve. I rose an eyebrow and he shook his head lightly. I sighed and grabbed a few vinyl records from the shelves.

"You are using records?"

I smiled quickly at Clint while walking towards the basement. "I'm gonna try a different approach today."

"Good luck!" Wanda and Steve called in unison.

"I'll need it," I muttered, trudging down the basement steps.

I rode the elevator down, my heart pounding in my chest. When I exited, I walked over to the conference room and put the records down before walking over to the storage closet in the corner and typing in the combination on the little keypad on the doorknob. It clicked and I pushed it open. The inside smelled like dust; it held all of my dad's old stuff that I couldn't bring myself to throw away.

Right in the middle of the closet was a small, portable record player that my dad had made for my mom to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. I picked it up by the handle on its lid and backed out of the closet before kicking the door shut with my foot. As I passed the table, I picked up the records and and walked over to the infirmary, my heart pounding.

The blinds were now closed, but I could see that the lights were on. I knocked on the door softly before I could convince myself to do otherwise and stood there clutching the records.

"Come in."

I opened the door and slid into the room, closing it behind me. Bucky sat on the bed, a small notebook open in his lap. He sat up straighter when he saw me and closed it quickly.

"Hi," I said quietly, offering him a small smile. "I was in yesterday, but I didn't get to introduce myself. I'm Cara."

"I know," he replied. "Steve told me."

"Oh, great." I glanced down at the space next to him on the bed. "Do you mind?"

"No, please, sit."

I smiled softly as he scooted over and I sat down next to him.

"So, have you remembered anything else since yesterday?"

He shook his head. "Nothing recent. Steve spent hours talking to me about what happened when I popped back up again a few years ago, but he wouldn't explain anything past this year."

"That's okay, it'll come to you soon."

"Maybe," he muttered.

We sat there awkwardly for a few moments. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shifted the record player on my lap.

"Well, I think that I may have a way to help you remember some things. I was wondering if it would be alright if I tried something?"

He shrugged wearily. "I guess so."

"Great!"

I stood and walked over to the counter, where I put the record player down, opened it, and turned it on. I unsheathed one of the records and placed it down gently, letting the needle hover over it. 

"One of the first times we hung out you were asking me about things I liked, and eventually the conversation turned to music, and I started telling you about how my mom started to play David Bowie for me before I was even out of the womb," I laughed nervously as I reminisced and leaned against the wall. "And you told me that you'd never heard of him and I just about punched you in the face."

I could've sworn I saw a smile flicker on Bucky's face, but it was gone before I could even react. I hesitated and cleared my throat before continuing.

"Anyway, I played you a couple of my favorites of his and made you listen to them and safe to say, you loved them. Then you thanked me and-"

"How?"

"Huh?"

Bucky suddenly looked slightly embarrassed. "Uh, sorry. My mom always used to tell me that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they say thank you," he paused and looked down at his hands. "So I guess I'm just trying to figure out what kind of person I am. Sorry, that's a weird question."

"No, don't apologize," I said quickly. "You, um, you just thanked me. You said some really nice stuff about how I was the only one treating you like a normal person. And you really appreciated it."

He nodded and I turned back to the record player casually, fiddling with the needle.

The story I'd just told Bucky was not, in fact, how I'd first introduced him to Bowie. It hadn't been one of the first times we hung out, it was one of the first times we'd had sex. And me forcing him to listen to the music had made him 'thank' me quite enthusiastically. But I was not about to tell a guy that didn't remember me that he'd thanked me by going down on me.

"So I thought that listening to his music might, um, help you remember me-I mean things."

"Okay, makes sense."

"I thought so."

I smiled and put the needle into the record before going back and sitting next to them. There were a few seconds of quiet scratching noises, then the music began to play.

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be Heroes, just for one day

I glanced over at Bucky and saw that he was staring down at his hands intently, his eyebrows knit together.

And you, you can be mean
And I, I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we're lovers, and that is that

He closed his eyes slowly and I felt myself growing more and more nervous.

We're nothing, and nothing will help us
Maybe we're lying,
then you better not stay
But we could be safer,
just for one day

Bucky's eyes opened and he looked over at me suddenly. My heart leapt into my throat as his eyes met mine and he squinted slightly at me.

"I know you," he breathed so quietly I almost didn't hear him. "Don't I?"

"Of course, you know all of us."

"No. I don't know them like I know you."

The song dwindled off after another minute or so, but his eyes stayed locked with mine. The record player scratched quietly for a moment, and was then replaced by another song.

"This one is, uh, it's called Oh You Pretty Things," I stuttered. "It was the other song you told me was your favorite."

Bucky inched closer to me, and before I knew it, his hand was on my face and his lips were on mine. I was so taken aback that I didn't even have time to kiss him back before it was over. Bucky practically jumped off the bed and stumbled over to the record player, turning it off abruptly.

"Oh my god," he mumbled. "Oh my god I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that."

"It's okay, um, it's nothing. We'll pretend it never happened, we mean nothing to each other," I said quickly, springing up and heading for the door. "I've gotta go, I'll see you later."

As I reached the door, Bucky reached out and slammed his arm over it. He stared into my eyes intently, searching for answers of some sort.

"Bucky-"

"You're lying," he whispered. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are, I can tell."

"Oh you can?" I hissed, my head snapping up to face him. "And how is that?"

He hesitated before responding to me. "Because," he breathed, "something happened during that song, I-I don't know what, but something happened. I saw something; I felt something."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't bullshit me, Cara."

"Alright, what did you see, then?"

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to the ground. He began to speak, then seemingly changed his mind and stopped.

"Okay, now you don't want to talk, typical," I muttered, starting to push past him. "I'm leaving."

"I saw you," he said suddenly. "You were laying in a bed and I was next to you and you had a sheet wrapped around yourself and you were smiling at me. You wanna tell me why I remember that?"

I folded my arms over my chest and stared at the ground. "I-I don't know."

"Jesus Christ, just tell me the truth! I don't remember a thing I think I deserve that!"

"Fine!" I yelled, throwing my arms down. "You remember that because it happened; like a lot!"

His eyes widened and he dropped his arm from the door. "What?"

"Yeah, Bucky, we fucked!" I said harshly. "We fucked on many different occasions!"

"What?!" Bucky's face paled as he backed away from me slowly, eyes wide with disbelief.

My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped loudly. "Holy shit. Holy freaking shit."

"We- we were, we, you and I," he stammered, running his hand through his hair. "We were..."

"Dating," I confirmed quietly. "Yeah."

"Were we serious?"

I hesitated before nodding slowly. "Yeah."

"Oh. Wow."

"I should go," I mumbled, rushing out the door. "I'll see you later."

"Wait, Cara!" He called, following me out and grabbing me by the arm gently. "Please don't go."

"I wasn't supposed to tell you anything but I did and that was really, really stupid," I said sharply. "You were supposed to remember things on your own and I fucked that up, I'm not going to ruin anything else!"

"You aren't ruining anything by helping me to remember what my life was like! You're helping!"

I rubbed my forehead angrily and thought for a few moments before replying. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"Give me forty five minutes, an hour, tops; just let me talking to you. Let me ask you some questions, please, Cara," he begged, his face clouded by desperation.

I hesitated, my gaze flicking between Bucky and the elevator. After a few moments, I exhaled quietly and looked back up at him.

"You have one hour."