epilogue

Torrance Avery smiled at the man across from her. 

He held up his cards, looking them over before pushing more chips onto the table. He was proud of himself, she knew that. But, she knew what was in his hands, how he was only bluffing to scare her. 

Three of hearts, five of spades.

She had skillfully shaken his hand, like the rest of the players at the table, once she had arrived. It was almost too easy from that moment on, having all of their mumbled voices betting and yelling against her open mind. 

She knew exactly what cards everyone had and now, with him and her being the only ones left, she could only grin as he echoed his cards like an anthem inside his big, crowded brain.

Three of hearts, five of spades. Three of hearts, five of spades. Three of hearts, five of spades.

Torrance pushed all of her chips forward. "All in."

The man frowned and she batted her eyes and gave him a nervous look that told him, perhaps she was the one bluffing. 

But, no such luck. She had a full house and everyone who stood behind her knew it too.

The man pushed the rest of his chips in and her stomach churned with joy. He laid his cards on the table as she did hers and his mouth fell open. She reached forward with a grin, dragging her winnings into her corner and into her arms with eager acceptance.

She had been on a winning streak...for the past week.

After work, which was usually just her sitting at a desk filing paper work for her asshole of a boss for hours, she'd come here and earn more than her paycheck would ever get her.

She returned home, to the little apartment over the bar, which she had taken the liberty of sprucing up. Being practically a century old, she knew a few things about renovating and she knew with enough money, and god did she have enough, she could do anything she wanted.

So, she tore down the walls to the apartment next door and created a huge loft for herself. The owner of the apartment across from her had been owned by a man named Santiago, at least that's what Donnie, the bartender and owner of the bar, had told her. He even mentioned that they had been friends, although, when he told her, he looked scared. Like something was going to happen to him if he told her the truth.

It didn't bother her, not much. She was just sad she couldn't remember the deceased man who might've been her friend when she tore down and completed her apartment through his. 

Her floors were white tile, not longer splintering wood. 

They got so cold at night that they felt like ice against her bare feet, so of course she had to buy a Persian rug. She even had a new counter top installed, along with new faucets, doors, windows, and a bed. She got herself a huge queen with an actual headboard. She slept in silk sheets, a luxury she used to never have.

At least, she thinks she never had it.

She had woken up a year ago without a single clue of how she'd ended up down by the river. It was like she had washed up there and her head ached, which only meant she must've hit her head somewhere. 

She knew her name, knew where she lived, and even knew who her parents and sister were, but she didn't know anything else. Like she was a complete and open book, and she felt okay with that.

There was no stress, no anxiety over who she thought she was.

Only peace. A startling calm. 

She did wonder though, when a part of her always tended to feel more empty than others, what she was doing that ended her up here. How she came to lose her memory, of how she ended up the way she was.

She knew she was born way before her time and that she, maybe, had fought in a war. There was an experiment, because that was how she gained her abilities to see into people, to steal away parts of them for an hour or two. 

But, the rest was a blank. Huge chunks gone, like someone had taken a butcher knife and carved them from her skull. 

She didn't let that get her down and she found that she didn't want to know, anyhow. Her life was simple and she enjoyed it that way, even tho her asshole of a boss with the funny eyepatch made her do work she wasn't necessarily comfortable with.

Mostly just special opts that required her to leave the country, which was something she was packing for currently. 

Fury, her boss, told her to pack warmly so she stuffed a thick jacket made of an expensive leather into her bag, along with a few long sleeves, and jeans. She didn't bother with packing shoes, as she always tended to just wear her boots that were hard and heavy and were strange, like there were mechanical.

She noticed, on inspecting them one day, there were little initials on the sole. A small, manly T.S. She didn't have a clue who that belonged to but she was grateful for the boots and the extra warmth and safety they brought her.

Without them, she felt bare. 

She'd felt naked without her gloves before all of this but throughout the year, she'd learned to embrace her gift. She liked knowing people, seeing into their thoughts and knowing just what they were thinking and who they truly were on the inside.

Sometimes, at night, she'd catch glimpses of a life she never lived before. One that involved an assassin of sorts, glittery blonde hair, elegant gowns, guns and knives strapped to the inside of soft thighs and powerful calves. 

And then, through that haze, she'd see a man.

Brown hair, scruffy face, calling out to her into the deep. She'd try to reach him, arms out stretched, screaming, but he'd fall back into the darkness that she was swimming in and she'd be pushed into phantom memories.

They plagued her mind. 

But she knew they were fiction, just the inner workings of her brain reconstructing dreams from places and people she'd seen throughout her day.

And, on her worst nights, the ones where she'd wake up gasping for breath and covered in sweat, she'd see a different man. Blonde. Friendly. Strong. She knew, in a past life, she must've loved him. That whatever they had was heart wrenching, so, when he'd appear to her in uniforms of green and some of red, white, and blue, she'd let him pass.

She'd feel him and everything he's full of, brushing past her and giving her a glimpse of that past life she must've had. The one that was bloody, bruising, damning. She was always crying in those dreams, struggling to breathe, hurting all over.

Hands pulling at clothes, tearing, ripping apart flesh and bone. Acid running through veins, burning from the inside out like fire. A girl crying, a child, screaming out for her sister to come back. Gun shots rattling ears and eyes stinging from smoke, sobbing over fallen bodies. Fallen soldiers. Fallen friends.

Torrance threw her bag over her shoulder, shaking herself from her thoughts. She didn't need those images flashing behind her eyes when she boarded her plane.

It was going to be an in and out trip but she knew, deep down, she wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon. 

At least, not quite yet.

~

Bucharest was cold but she didn't care.

She wore her big coat and tucked underneath, she wore a sweatshirt she bought in a passing store, along with a nice red scarf. Her mission had been easy, she'd gone in and out and stolen the information Fury inquired about.

Just some missing papers on some Avengers mission from a few years ago. 

She was planning on actually leaving the city that night once she had finished but she decided to stay the night in a little hotel so she could explore the next day. She knew, in her past life, she traveled.

She went everywhere because every little city and town and country she visited felt like a little part of herself trying to piece itself together. She allowed her body to heal, to glue those shards back into herself with every little flower she smelled, every piece of warm bread she ate, all the wine she drank, and every bullet that she fired.

It was easy to get lost in herself all over again, relearning every quirk and scar and bump. Her body was made up of memories she was alright with being swallowed down if it meant she was finally happy.

Finally complete.

Well, almost.

She sat down at a small cafe, speaking in swift Romanian to the waiter. She laid out her bag on the table, a small bundle of warm bread she had picked up in a market. She was happy to feel like a tourist, not someone in search of a mark. 

The waiter returned with her coffee and Torrance thanked her with a smile. She sipped slowly, allowing that hot liquid to warm her from her gut to her toes to her hands. Her finger tips had itched to reach out and touch the waiter when she passed the drink over, to learn all about her.

She wanted to collect those memories for herself.

Almost done with her drink and considering breaking into the bread she had gotten, someone pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. She looked up, her frown melting at how handsome he was.

He wore a baseball cap, concealing the majority of his face save for the scruff of a beard coming in. His hair was messy, but everything was messy from the light wind and the freezing temperatures.

"Um, hi?" Torrance muttered, reaching into her bag to tear off a piece of bread. 

"Hi," the man breathed, voice deep and something fluttered inside her gut. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, small smile coming to her lips.

"Actually, yes," he murmured, pulling out a little map. He seemed to be a tourist, just as she was now. "I'm trying to find the Romanian Athenaeum, and you looked to be the only one who could speak english here." He gave her a sheepish look and she felt a strange blush creep up her cheeks. 

"Funny," she lied, wanting to continue to be in this man's presence. "I was going to head there after I finished my coffee. Care to join me?"

He opened his mouth, surprised but he nodded. Furiously. "That--" he swallowed with a laugh. "--that would be great."

She popped a piece of crust into her mouth and she grinned. "What brings you here?"

"Kind of ran away from home," he said, leaning back and rubbing the back of his head with a gloved hand. His chest was broad, muscles rippling underneath his jacket and red shirt. "And you?"

"Wanted to get away," she shrugged and strangely, offered him a piece of her food and he took it like they had been friends for years. Like sharing with this stranger was the most mundane feeling. "Was supposed to leave yesterday but decided against it."

"I'm glad you didn't."

Her blush worsened. 

"Maybe, if you wanted, we could go to the art museum...together?"

"Hmm," she said, tapping her chin before lighting up in a grin she didn't think could get even bigger than this but it did. "I think that'd be perfect, want to make it a date, handsome stranger? I'm feeling kind of reckless."

"Oh, handsome stranger," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "I like the sound of that."

"Promise not to murder me tonight and I'll be all yours for however long you like," she cooed, gathering her bag. 

He chuckled, shaking his head as she stood. The wind brushed past them and she saw his eyes, the blue soft and exquisite against the darkness of his hair. 

"This is going to sound crazy," she breathed, her focus on him and him alone like they were the only two people left in this world.  He felt, strangely, of home. A home she had never seen but had felt, so fiercely that it was seared into her very bones. "But you seem so familiar to me, like I've met you before."

"Funny," he breathed, voice straining. Did he think of her as home too? "I feel the same way."

She stuck her hand out. "Torrance Avery."

He removed one glove and took her hand into his. His flesh warm against the coldness of her palm and fingers. Her grip tightened as everything that made this man him swirled inside her through her finger tips and up to her foggy brain.

Torrance-Torrance-Torrance-Ana-Ana-the same-the same-

You're beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever remember. Beautiful-beautiful-

Remember, remember what we promised? The war-war-fighting-the train-the fall-falling-falling-god, I missed you-I missed you, I missed you! I couldn't stay away-they said it was alright-after a year-a year-year-a long year-I found you-I saw you and didn't think it would be you but it was-it was you-you-you-

"You," she breathed. "Your-your-"

He smiled and she melted. Her brain and heart fell, surging through her with such a strong feeling that she felt choked up. And god, how hard she fell. 

It was him. It was him! 

"Bucky Barnes."

________________

Notes:

it's done!!!! it's done !!! crying !!!!

i def will come back to this and rewrite things when I've had time to reflect on wtf i just threw out here for u guys lol cuz majority of this is unedited and probs rushed 

thank u sm for reading and sticking w this even tho it legit took me years to finish this and in between uploads

love u all

xx day