Wakanda, August 13, 2016

After several decades, the emptiness inside her chest felt heavier than ever before. She didn't understand. Her mission was over. Done. She'd won. Survived, even. So why did she just want to close her eyes and sleep forever? Why wasn't there even the faintest hint of satisfaction or triumph at the completion of her mission? 
Nemesis stared out the window, her blank gaze following the gradual drift of the white, fluffy clouds. It seemed so long ago she'd laid in the grass with her brother on those hot summer days in California, inventing stories about the shapes they recognized as the clouds floated overhead. A wry smile crept up her lips when she heard her sibling's voice in her head. God, how she missed him. 

"Nemesis?"

She didn't respond to Natasha Romanoff's concerned call. All she wanted was to be left in peace. Was that really too much to ask? Didn't she deserve to rest? Granted, Natasha hadn't said a word since yesterday, but Nemesis wouldn't have minded for the silence to have lasted a little longer.

"Nemesis, you have to eat," insisted Natasha. "You've refused everything for days. Super-soldier or not, even you can't run on an empty stomach."

"I'm allergic to the spices they use here," replied Nemesis in a lethargic voice. "Can't take any chances."

"It's cheese sandwiches. No spices. Or are you lactose intolerant as well?"

Sighing, Nemesis turned her head toward the bedside table. Next to the untouched bowl of porridge stood a plate of neatly cut triangle sandwiches accompanied by a light salad. Her stomach grumbled at the sight. Nemesis pushed herself up, only noticing then her limbs were no longer restrained with the vibranium cuffs. "When did —?"

"Last night when you were sleeping," said Natasha. "I assured T'Challa you wouldn't be foolish enough to try anything."

"That's a lot of faith you're puttin' in me."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Their eyes met. Nemesis didn't feel like reminiscing about the Red Room, so she grabbed a sandwich and nibbled a corner. Though the spread was plain, it was still the most delicious thing she'd tasted in such a long time. Spurred on by the taste and her hunger, the young assassin took a decent bite. 

"It's good," she said gratefully. "Thank you."

Natasha's smile was quickly followed by a wince. She shuffled in place, trying to get a better position. Nemesis was inclined to follow her example, or better yet, just lie down on the floor. Damn pillows and mattress were far too soft to her liking. Seeing Natasha's discomfort, Nemesis said, "I'm sorry. I didn't expect the drug I gave you to wear off so quickly."

"What did you give me, anyway?"

"Something S.H.I.E.L.D. put together for quick fixes when out in the field. The science behind it is similar to the super-soldier serum, only without the super-soldier effect. It was the first time I made it myself, though. Must've gotten the dosage wrong."

"Well, I do feel a little better. But," Natasha furrowed her brow, "I was with S.H.I.E.L.D. for years. How come I never heard of this?"

"You always flew solo," clarified Nemesis. "It was only distributed to agents with partners. The drug knocks you out and paralyzes you for, supposedly, six hours to repair the damage from within, so you're a sitting duck unless you have somebody with you to watch your six."

"Then how come you know of it? You never had a partner, did you?"

"I knew the person who came up with this."

"And who was that?"

Nemesis glared at Natasha over her half-eaten sandwich. If Black Widow thought she could make her talk by acting all buddy-buddy now, she had another thing coming. Besides, how was she even supposed to admit she knew a lot more about Natasha than anyone else?
How could she tell the girl she'd left behind in the Red Room — the girl officially known as Natalia Alianovna Romanova — that she'd done so because letting her become an assassin for Dreykov had been the lesser of two evils? That her father, Ivan, had developed the drug based on the research her grandfather had stolen from Arnim Zola when he'd defected from HYDRA? How could she tell Natasha she'd arrived too late to save her family, just as she'd arrived too late to save her own? 

It's not a lie if I keep my mouth shut. It's better if she holds on to whatever illusion she's got about her family. The truth will only hurt more.

With a light scoff, Nemesis turned onto her back again to finish her food. But once her gaze fell on the empty room behind the glass screen again, the same hollow feeling from before took hold of her. She dropped her arm, letting the sandwich crumble on the sheet. 

"He buried yet?" she asked. "The Winter Soldier?"

"I don't think so," replied Natasha. "Why? You wanna see him? Confirm the kill?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

"I would. If I'd been hunting him for as long as you had, I'd want to make sure."

Nemesis sighed and bit her lip. Her gut told her Natasha was right; she needed to confirm she'd carried out her mission. She needed to see the Winter Soldier dead. Face what she'd done, and finally get some closure. But what if, instead of her enemy, she saw...?

"Rogers' reaction yesterday said enough," Nemesis said, her voice straining with emotion. "It's over. That's all I need to know."

"Suit yourself," said Natasha. "What's the plan, then?"

"Plan?"

"Your plan for the rest of your life."

Nemesis threw her a sideways scowl. "Those drugs I gave you must've messed you up. In case you didn't notice, I'm a prisoner here."

"Maybe not. T'Challa and I talked while you were sleeping. You may have ruffled some feathers amongst the Dora Milaje, but he acknowledges the Winter Soldier was your only target, and that you were focussed enough to not make any innocent casualties. I gave a statement as a character witness and told him all I knew of you. With a little luck, T'Challa will only banish you, on penalty of imprisonment or death if you ever return."

"Pfft, yeah, not likely."

"You really have an issue in trusting and seeing the good in people, don't you?"

"Excuse me? Pot, meet kettle."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Natasha with a snicker. "There are a few people out there whom I know would be right there to catch me when I fall. Steve Rogers among them."

Nemesis rolled her eyes and shook her head. Steve Rogers, always Steve Rogers. Everyone she met always treated him like he was the risen Christ. She knew better, though. 

"Guess he won't show me the same curtesy now, will he?" 

"Give him time," answered the blonde. "You know a thing or two about grief, don't you?"

Normally, Nemesis would bite back. She'd tell Natasha to stuff it and not compare her to Captain Righteous. But she just turned her head on her downy pillow. Yet Natasha wouldn't give up, and Nemesis groaned silently when she heard her say, "You never told me about your family. What were they like?"

"Not much to say."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Natasha, I'm really not in the mood right now."

"All right, just... I'm here in case you feel like unloading."

Unloading... That was a lot easier said than done. Her grief and lust for vengeance had shaped her life for so long, it seemed impossible to think she could simply let it go. Still...

"California," said Nemesis, surprising herself as she did. 

"Really? Huh. Gotta say I never pictured you for a Cali-girl," quipped Natasha.

"Trust me, I ain't. Moved to Jersey after... ya know. My brother loved it, though. Loved the sunshine, loved walking along the beach, loved picking up girls left and right." A smile crept up Nemesis's lips. "Damn womanizer. Momma always said he'd be a menace for the female population."

"Why's that?"

"Genetics. Dark chocolate hair, perfect cheekbones, a pair of knock-out blue gazers, and always walkin' around with that cocky smirk... He wasn't that muscular, but I kept him in shape by makin' him run five laps around the block with me each morning. And he was smart, too. Like, genius-smart. He would've made a hell of a doctor."

Natasha chuckled. "He definitely sounds like a dreamboat. He look like your Dad?"

"Suppose he did, yeah."

"How about you? You take after him or your mom?"

"I wish I looked more like Momma. But the only thing I got from her was her temper. And maybe her singing."

"She was a singer?"

"Music teacher. She worked in all kinds of prestigious academies around the United States. We didn't get to see that much of her, but we wrote to each other every week. And she made sure to be with us every birthday, and... every Christmas."

Nemesis swallowed as the memory of what happened that one Christmas eve invaded her mind. Her mother... Her brother... Why hadn't she made it in time? She could've stopped him.

"Nemesis?" Natasha called to her. "You okay?"

She didn't answer. She was tired of talking. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling this shitty and of thinking about her family. About what might've become of them or of what they would say if they saw her now. If they knew everything she'd done in their name.
Part of her wanted to believe they'd be happy. The suffering had ended. They'd been avenged, and HYDRA had been defeated. Yet all Nemesis could see when imagining her mother's face was sadness. All she could hear in her brother's voice was disappointment. And Lucas... Though he hadn't been the one to raise her, she'd always considered him family because of what he'd done for her brother and mother. He'd gone through the same agony she had. That last time she saw him, he'd warned her not to lose herself in her pursuit of vengeance. He'd wanted the Winter Soldier dead, but not at her hands. If only she could tell him how sorry she was now.

Lucas...

A tear stung the corner of her eye. 

Jay...

It welled at her lashes.

Momma...

Her heart could take no more.

Dad...

No more.

***

"Pretend I'm dead."

The words sounded so strange as they echoed through his mind, yet Bucky was certain he'd spoken them. Because if he hadn't, and he was really dead, this dark but loud void sure wasn't where he'd expected to end up. Hell was supposed to be fire and brimstones, wasn't it? Or maybe this was his own little corner of Hell, designed especially for those with fractured minds and broken personalities who'd been brainwashed to kill others? No, that seemed a little too detailed.
When the sudden rustle of a page turning broke through the constant, annoying beeping, Bucky knew he was still alive. Because accompanying the rustle was a whispered curse in a voice he would recognize anywhere. It was in that moment he remembered where he was, what had happened, and what he'd asked of his best friend.

"Did it work?" he croaked with a dry mouth.

"Buck!" exclaimed Steve. "Geez Louise, ya scared me half to death."

"Sorry." Bucky opened his eyes to tiny slits so he wouldn't be blinded by the bright light around him before slowly turning his head to Steve. "Did it work?"

"Yeah, it worked. We convinced Nemesis you're dead. Natasha's with her, and T'Challa's monitoring them."

"What about the thingamajig attached to my heart?"

"Shuri successfully removed it. It self-destructed five minutes after she took it out of you. She thinks Nemesis rigged it like that so nobody could gather any data from it. Something to do with body temperature. I didn't really understand too much of it."

"How far is she with the DNA profile?"

"Almost done," said Steve. "Nemesis being out cold gave Shuri the chance to gather a couple of extra samples of blood."

"Okay." Bucky sighed. "And you? How you holdin' up?"

"Me? Jesus, Buck, you were the one with one foot in the grave. I should be askin' you."

"You know how I am; physically healing, but a complete mess otherwise. Now answer the damn question."

Steve shifted in his seat and brushed the back of his hand against the tip of his nose before leaning forward, elbows on his knees and eyes on the floor. It was a telltale sign of his reluctance to admit something, which Bucky had already been afraid of waking up to.

"Steve?"

"I've... been readin' more of Evy's journal," he said, pointing his chin toward the journal on the bedside table.

"And?" urged Bucky. 

"I'm just not sure how to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Well, for starters... you and Evy sorta... got together a few more times. There were some lockdowns allowing you some moments, and... ya kinda asked Evy to marry you."

"What?" Of all the things Steve could've told him then, Bucky certainly hadn't expected that. "Wh-What did she say?"

"She said yes."

The fear that had clutched Bucky's heart released swiftly at Steve's words. A strangled sob escaped him. She said yes. Evelyn Rogers said she'd marry him. Goddammit it all!

"What else?" he asked. "Steve, what else happened?"

"There was an incident," answered Steve. "Super-soldiers got loose and wreaked havoc around the base. It was a massacre."

"Super-soldiers? Like those we found in the cryo-chambers in Siberia?"

"No, worse. Evy described one in detail, and it was barely human. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Zola added a dose of Hulk to that batch. Must've been an upgraded version of the serum he used on you, but it went horribly wrong. You, or the Winter Soldier, saved Evy just in time from getting raped and murdered, but it took both of ya to kill that thing. She was hurt, though, and you rushed to help her when..."

"When, what? Steve, for God's sake, what?"

"Zola discovered you."

Cold descended on Bucky's being. Gripping him, clutching him. If Zola had found them, if he'd realized who Evelyn was and that the Winter Soldier was out of his control... HYDRA wouldn't have shown either of them mercy. They hadn't. He'd been reprogrammed, turned back into a puppet, and Evelyn... 

"What did Zola do to her?" asked Bucky in a voice trembling with anger. "Steve, what did that bastard do?"

"I can answer that for you."

Both their heads snapped to the open door. Bucky's eyes widened when he recognized Lucas Evans. Though now an elderly man and leaning on a cane, Lucas yet bore that same air of leadership and integrity he always had. Had he enlisted as well, he undoubtedly would've climbed up the ranks of the military in no time. But his war had been the one fought on a different front. 

"Lucas?" Steve raised a brow. "What the hell are you doing here? You're —"

"If you're about to suggest I'm too old to travel, I'm of a good mind to hit ya with my cane, Steve Rogers," interrupted Lucas sternly. "You sent Mister Wilson out to tell me my goddaughter is taken prisoner for her attempt at murder of that good-for-nothing after he almost killed her, instead of manning up and facing me yourself, and expect me to sit on the sidelines as you ruin that girl's life even more? No, sir."

"Sorry, Cap," said Sam from behind Lucas. "He insisted."

"It's okay, Sam," said Steve. "Check-in with T'Challa and Shuri. They might need your help."

"Will do. Goodbye, Mister Evans. It was a pleasure meeting you again."

"And you, young man," said Lucas. "I'm glad to see good, chivalrous, strapping men aren't entirely a thing of the past yet."

If he wasn't still in shock and mildly affected by whatever drugs Shuri gave him, Bucky would've snorted at that comment. He wouldn't deny Falcon was a decent guy, but calling him chivalrous was a step too far.
The grass-green eyes behind the rounded spectacles settled on Bucky once Sam left. He cringed. Lucas was shooting him the same condemning glare he'd given him every day since Evelyn left until his own departure. Clearly, the years hadn't changed his mind or his feelings. If anything, the animosity had only grown. 

"Lucas, I —"

"Save it," Lucas bit sharply. "I don't wanna hear any excuses from you, Barnes. I just came to make sure you never come near my goddaughter again. Enough is enough."

"Got that right." Steve stepped forward, putting himself between Lucas and Bucky. "Enough with the secrets, Lucas. No disconnectin' us this time. No more ignoring us. Bucky and I have a right to know what happened to Evy and who the hell Nemesis is, and you're gonna tell us right now."

The old man's gaze traveled to Steve. He snickered. "You know, I almost forgot how spirited you Rogers' are. But if you think you impress me now you're all grown-up and can finally land a punch, you're sorely mistaken. I don't care if you're Captain America, or whatever the heck you go by these days, I won't tell you a damn thing until I've seen my goddaughter."

"Sorry, Lucas, but that ain't happenin' until you give us something. How is Nemesis your goddaughter? What connection do you have with her family?"

"Your family, you mean." 

Bucky's gasp escaped him at the same moment Steve's did. "So, she's... really Steve's, then?"

Lucas's gaze flashed to him again. Even behind the thick glasses, Bucky was certain to have seen those green eyes narrow briefly. 

"What about Evy?" asked Steve, pulling Lucas' attention back to him. "Did she know about Nemesis?"

A pregnant silence fell in the room as Lucas slowly licked his lips. He sighed wearily, and Bucky instantly felt sorry for him. Aside from Steve, Lucas was the first person from his own past he'd met, and a blatant reminder of how time was mankind's true enemy.
Bucky's own life had been both shortened and then prolonged by what Zola did to him, so he didn't know what living really meant. He hadn't experienced what Lucas had. Hadn't gone through the changes in economy, society, environment... His loved ones were just gone, but Lucas had seen each of his own be lowered into the ground. He'd gone through the agony, the grief, the sorrow. For the first time in... forever, really, Bucky didn't envy a normal person's life. 

"How far along in the journal are you?" Lucas asked him then.

"Almost at the end," answered Bucky. 

"Keep reading. Read on to the very last page, Barnes. To the very last word. I'll tell Steve what he wants to know in the meantime."

"Tell us both now," insisted Steve. 

"No."

"Lucas —"

"No! He needs to learn through her. Evelyn left that thing for him, so this is the least he can do to honor her memory. I'll answer your questions outside while he finishes the journal, Steve, and then you'll let me see my goddaughter. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Steve pinched his lips and looked at Bucky. They both knew there was no other way to do this. Lucas held answers, but Evelyn's diary did as well. He had to see this through to the end of the line.
Silently, Bucky took his lover's journal from the bedside table and opened the page Steve had marked for him. He didn't go back to read about all the time he and Evelyn had spent together or how he'd proposed to her. He didn't want to read about how she'd almost fallen prey to an even worse monster than the Winter Soldier. This last part was it. The key to unlock his suppressed memories. The key to the end.