If you can think of some people for me to write, please review and tell me! I already have the next couple chapters planned out.

Bucky

Steve was not one to forget his past very easily, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to. He had always had an impressive memory, and the serum had just enhanced it even more. He could still remember what he had for breakfast two Mondays ago, he remembered the captions of the history books Fury had given him — hell, after seventy years of being frozen in the water, he could still remember that Dodgers game. It even surprised him sometimes.

One of the only things he couldn't bear to forget was the first thing he did.

It was a few weeks after the battle of New York. Steve was doing a bit of sketching in a notebook Natasha had given him, a hobby Tony will always mock him for. He, as always, could remember every freckle, every scar, every shadow on Bucky's face as he laughed. He would lean his head down and laugh to his chest or his hand. His face would tilt the the left, just enough to expose a thin pink scar, courtesy of Hydra.

Steve was able to draw every single detail of his best friend, right down to the little chip in his tooth he had received when they were fifteen.

Then he got to colouring.

He shaded the navy blue of Bucky's jacket perfectly. He added in each hair with care the perfect brown. The tan of his scarred skin was just as he remembered.

But he couldn't remember what colour his eyes were.

Were they green, blue, a mix of both? He knew they weren't brown, or any crazy colour, but he just couldn't remember.

A small tear dropped onto the pad of paper. Then another. Eventually his tears were silent rain.

Of all the things.

He knew what he had for breakfast two weeks ago, he knew the captions of the textbook, he knew the Rodgers game. He knew Thor's favourite food, the new television show Tony was currently into, even where Natasha gets her bullets, which she told him more than a month ago.

Steve ripped the paper out of its place in the sketchpad and hurled it with such force at the rubbish can that it tipped over.

Why, of all the things to forget, did it have to be his best friend's eyes?

The next thing hit him even harder.

Steve and Tony were watching a movie. Steve couldn't remember what Tony had said the title was, but it was from sometime around the 1980's. He was getting a lot better at being able to tell when things were from.

During the movie, these two people seemed to be arguing. Well, not really agruing, per say, but acting like it. It seemed friendly. The taller one was obviously hiding a grin, and the shorter one seemed to have trouble ignoring that fact.

"It was just one piece of chocolate!" Tall exclaimed. "You can't miss it that much!"

"That was my last piece of milk chocolate! You couldn't have at least stolen the dark?"

"Nope, sorry. Annoying you was on my to do list today, and Mumma says I have to have it done by dinner."

Tony laughed. "That sounds like you and me, Spangles."

And for that moment, it did.

But after Shorty sighed, he chuckled and said, "You're a punk."

Steve had heard that line before. Bucky had said those exact words before he went to fight in the war.

Steve replayed the memory in his mind.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

"You're a punk."

"Jerk. Be careful... Don't win the war until I get there!"

But something felt wrong as he thought about that day. He remembered the day perfectly, all the words spoken and unspoken, but as he played back their conversation, it felt...wrong.

What was it? That was exactly how their conversation went, everything identical to the actual day in 1942, except...

That wasn't how Bucky's voice sounded.

Steve had used some random voice for Bucky.

He thought back to all of their conversations together. His mum's funeral, after all his fights in the alleys, them laughing together with all of the other Howling Commandos.

Nothing.

Steve had forgotten the sound of his best friend's voice. The man he had known since he was six. The man who, as a child, had pulled Steve out of his pathetic little fist fights and cleaned him up afterwards. He couldn't remember his voice.

That was a low blow, universe.

Steve got up calmly and quickly walked to his room, before Tony could see his red eyes.

It had only been about a year since 1944 for him. A year, and he had forgotten how Bucky sounded laughing with him, agruing with him, mourning with him.

He was so disappointed in himself. Why couldn't he have tried harder to keep hold of his older life?

At least one good thing had come from losing the voice of his honourary brother.

He couldn't remember how he sounded screaming.