Chapter Text
“Who the hell is Bucky?” The winter soldier replied. He was filled with anger, anger he shouldn’t have been able to feel. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But at the sight of the man before him, blonde hair and kind blue eyes, he was filled with every emotion. He didn’t even remember what it was like to feel. Along with his anger, sadness, ecstasy, the winter soldier felt some vague sense of familiarity. A beautiful familiarity like he was finally coming home.
He continued his fight like he was trained to do. Despite the silent rebellion of having his own thoughts, he had to continue to fight. It was injected into his DNA. Irrevocable. Obstinate.
It was after the fight was over, and the winter soldier was taken to a HYDRA warehouse, that was when he felt the violence drain from his veins and his emotions were the prevailing force controlling him.
“The man on the bridge…” he said, throat feeling raw, “I knew him.”
Names floated around in his brain, Steve, James, Sarah, Barnes. He couldn’t match a single one to a face. Was one of those his name? Was Bucky?
The winter soldier tuned out his commander’s conversation while he tried with every ounce of might in his body to remember. That was another thing he shouldn’t be able to do. He was programmed to listen, be aware, almost to a painful extent.
He was pushed into a machine, one he was used to. Along with maybe the man on the bridge, it was the only familiar thing to the winter soldier. The electric probes began to pierce into his skin, into his skull. It felt like his brain was being set on fire and then doused with ice cold water. It left his head feeling heavy and singed. Suddenly, his skull felt like a prison. He was aware of every thought trying to make its way out of the cage, insubstantial but there nonetheless.
This time was different.
This time, the winter soldier repeated in his head, Steve, Steve. Steve. It kept him grounded. His brain was still being engulfed in flames, but every emotion and thought he had since his last treatment stayed. The winter soldier didn’t know who Steve was to him, but whoever he had been, the thought of him was enough to keep the cutting edge HYDRA tech from working.
The winter soldier’s escape was a blur. He destroyed the machine, the one that had tortured him countless times, the one that kept him afraid, submissive. He probably killed all of the HYDRA agents within a mile radius. He stopped on his way out to break into a computer, hoping that this Steve would be in their system somewhere. He had the vague idea that Steve was the one whom he had seen, the one who had known him.
He thought it would be impossible to find him, he couldn’t possibly search through every Steve in the world. Yet, the moment his name, Steve Rogers, flashed across the winter soldier’s eye- he knew.
The winter soldier stood in front of the apartment door for an embarrassingly long time. He hadn’t experienced anything but fear for years, decades maybe, but this was different. He wasn’t afraid of physical harm this time, but mental. Maybe he was wrong and Steve wasn’t a friend. Maybe the winter soldier was so different from who he was, a person he had no recollection of, that Steve wouldn’t want to see him. Maybe Steve would be afraid.
It took him until a woman (blonde hair, hidden gun at her belt, potential enemy) passed behind him and shot a sideways glance at him. She reached for what she thought was her cleverly concealed weapon. The winter soldier furrowed his eyebrows, knowing his weaponized arm was more than enough to take her down in half a second. He was already on edge from escaping his prison. His anger wasn’t good for anyone around him, and he couldn't let himself be angry around someone who could help him.
The woman seemed to judge the winter soldier as nonthreatening, a technically incorrect conclusion, and went into her apartment.
The winter soldier finally forced himself to knock on the door with his non-metal arm, hoping to seem more normal.
The man from earlier opened the door. He was wearing a white tshirt that stretched thin across his broad shoulders. His red and white shield was barely visible in the corner behind him.
He looked like he had seen a ghost when he saw the winter soldier, “are you here to kill me?”
The winter soldier shook his head, “you know, I only remember three names. And I’m pretty sure you’re not Sarah.”
The man smiled, but his muscles were still tense, “Bucky?”
So Bucky was his name, “Steve?”
Steve nodded and beckoned Bucky into his apartment.
Bucky looked around. The home was sparse, limited appliances in the kitchen, no television. There were drawings and sketchbooks scattered across every surface.
Steve closed the door, “how did you get out?”
“I killed them all,” Bucky said casually, while still scanning around the room.
Steve got a sad look on his face, staring at the floor instead of looking at Bucky.
Bucky cursed at himself for saying it. After being the arbiter of death for so long, the idea of murder would have lost its gravity. At least it would have- if Bucky could remember any of it.
Steve reached out his hand, just slightly, towards Bucky. He dropped it to his side immediately. The initial idea to reach out seemed more like a reflex, one that Steve had learned long ago.
“So you remember?”
Bucky shook his head, feeling like he was disappointing Steve, “I want to.”
“How do I know you aren’t going to try and attack me again?
Steve looked to be in great pain. Bucky knew something about pain. He had spent his entire life, what he could remember, in agonizing, tortuous pain. That pain, one of the only constants in his career, eased around Steve. But Steve’s pain seemed heightened by Bucky’s presence.
Bucky didn’t know how to assure Steve that he wouldn’t try and hurt him, he wasn't even sure himself. He wasn’t in control, he never was.
“Does this help?” Bucky pulled off his jacket and ripped his metal arm from the socket. He let it clatter to the floor. Bucky let out a sigh of relief as the physical and psychological weight left his body.
Steve let out a gasp.
“Are-” Bucky’s voice cracked, “Are you scared of me?”
Steve was still for a moment, a single tear fell down his cheek.
“No,” he said, sure even through his shaking voice, “No, I could never be scared of you Buck.”
He wrapped Bucky in a tight hug. Bucky felt his fight or- well, fight reflexes kick in. But he took a breath, and let himself revel in Steve’s warmth. It calmed him down. He even hugged Steve back with his remaining arm.
Bucky didn’t know how long they stood there like that. He just knew that, when Steve eventually let go, Bucky wasn’t angry anymore. Every bit of rage pent up in his body seeped out and pooled at his feet.
“Maybe…” Steve was still very close to Bucky, “Maybe I can help you remember.”