One afternoon, Mira and I were in the garden. I lay in the grass while she played near the bushes, whispering to something in her hands.
"What do you have there?" I asked, coming up behind, and crouching beside her.
She peeked open her palms. Inside was a tiny green lizard, perfectly still.
"It's a lizard," she said with a wide grin.
"He's cute," I said. "What are you going to do with him?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to call him Larry."
I chuckled. "Larry the Lizard, huh?"
"Yup. He's nice."
She stared at him, quiet. He didn't squirm or try to escape.
"You should let him go," I whispered.
"Why?"
"Because Larry's meant to be free. To go back to his family. Just like you and I, we'll always come back to each other."
"Yeah," she said softly. "I guess you're right, Mom."
She lowered her hands and let the lizard go. It scurried into the bushes, gone in a blink.
"See? Look how happy he is," I said, lifting her into my arms.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
"Mom?"
"Yeah, baby?" I started on our way back to the house for her nap
"Something scary is going to happen soon."
I froze. "What?"
"Don't be scared, though. Everything will be okay."
How strange. A four-year-old telling me not to be afraid of the future.
Sometimes, makes me wonder who the mother is here.
"Oh yeah?" I asked gently. "What's going to happen?"
She didn't answer. Just closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
I laid her down in my bed and curled up beside her, listening to her quiet breaths.
And I wondered, what could a child like her know?
What would make a four-year-old say something like that?
And what, exactly, was coming?
Looking at her sleeping face, I was reminded of Bucky. I had seen his sleeping face many times while he rested in those cryo chambers.
I remember everything from those days, how every time he was woken up, I would hear his screams of pain shortly after. I had come to expect it. How each time he saw me, he never knew who I was.
I remember when we used to go on missions together sometimes. In the silence of the plane or car ride, he would occasionally wear a confused expression. He'd glance from his arms to mine, staring at his left arm. I think he was trying to understand why they were different.
I always chuckled a little inside, wishing I could explain it to him.
But my voice never came out.
He wore a mask over his face, a muzzle, a reminder not to speak. His voice was irrelevant to Hydra. On occasion, though, it came out. In moments of brief clarity or confusion, he spoke.
It was always pretty much the same few things. The most common: "Why?"
I wonder if he remembers everything now. He's been away from Hydra for some time, surely some of his memory has returned.
Or maybe he's been left without the ability to remember. All that wiping and reprogramming must have left damage that can't be repaired.
That sweet, innocent, hopeful man I met all those decades ago is, without a doubt, gone. What remains? Maybe a brainless killer. A broken soldier. Or just a crippled man.
I let out a deep sigh and sank back into the mattress. I had only recently started growing accustomed to sleeping on it, it bothered Mira that I wouldn't sleep on it with her so I forced myself to.
Eventually, I drifted off.
Strangely, I fell into a dream, rare for me. Usually, I'm plagued with nightmares of the past. The things I'd done. The people I hurt. The memories of my own pain.
But not this time.
This time, I was lying peacefully under a clear blue sky. No clouds in sight.
Birds, seagulls, cried overhead, their calls filling the clean air. The sound of waves reached my ears.
The beach.
I lay on soft sand in a baby blue one-piece swimsuit, a cute little skirt sewn into it.
Laughter echoed from the water.
Looking over, I saw Mira playing in the shallows. Behind her stood a woman with long brown hair, wearing a black swimsuit similar to mine. Her back was to me.
"Mira!" I called out.
"She's okay."
Startled by the voice beside me, I turned to see, Bucky. Sitting next to me, his fingers interlaced over his shirtless abs. Both hands were flesh. His body was free of scars but still sculpted like something carved by gods.
He turned his head, his frosty blue eyes meeting mine, only slightly veiled by a few windblown strands of his brown long hair. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"It's good to see you again," he whispered.
"Yeah… you too," I replied, sitting up. I stared at him like I was seeing those eyes for the first time.
He sat up beside me, his gaze shifting back to the water.
"She's beautiful," he said with a glint in his eye, as if he were looking at the most amazing thing in the world.
"She looks like you. Always has."
"I can't wait to meet her."
I turned my eyes back toward the water, watching our little girl splash about. The woman behind her picked her up and spun her in circles, splashing around the water as their laughter rang out.
She was older, much older, but I knew that laugh.
It was Jamie.
My sister.
She was finally meeting my daughter. The two people who meant the most to me, together at last.
I shot up.
My bedroom.
The silky black blanket slipped from my body. The sun hadn't risen yet.
Beside me, Mira, still asleep, blissfully unaware.
The soft glow of the nightstand lamp filled the room. I still hated the dark, got into the habit of sleeping with the light on.
It was a nice dream.