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Summary
Bucky Barnes is not the man or the boy that Steve remembers but he is, at least, more of a man still than his companions. There’s a chance, then, and Steve hangs onto it with white knuckles and burning fingertips.
‘Bucky!’ He tries again, just managing to choke the syllables out as the arm tightens its grip on his shoulder. The pain is blistering, his bones creaking beneath the grip and Steve is sure they can’t take much more. ‘Buck! It’s me! It’s Steve. Don’t you remember?’
Bucky halts in his advance. The metal fingers flex on Steve’s shoulder, not quite letting go but not tightening either, for the first time.
‘Steve?’ The word comes out muffled from behind the mask, as if Bucky is tasting it for the first time.