Bucky stood in front of his own memorial at the Captain America exhibit. The red, white, and blue that surrounded him reflected off of the area, but his face was still clear. He stood there and studied it. He studied each piece of facial hair that threatened to grow into a beard. He studied the way the eyebrows lifted and eyes crinkled when he laughed. He studied the way the lips curved into a sly smile that would make any woman swoon (until Steve became Captain America, that is).
Memories were slowly beginning to infiltrate their way into his brain, but he couldn't comprehend them. It didn't make sense.
"Hey, Daisy? Can you do me a favor and check to make sure no one stole one of the costumes again?"
"Sure thing!"
Bucky didn't budge. It didn't even register in his brain that someone was coming to check on the exhibit as the museum was closing. He was convinced that no one knew he was in there, and he was right until Daisy turned the corner into the exhibit and saw him standing there.
He didn't budge upon the sound of her footsteps. He was too focused on the memorial. It caused Daisy to stop in her tracks. She observed the man. His dark brown locks, which almost reached his shoulders, looked like they needed to be washed. There was dirt on his face, arm and hand; the other arm and hand were completely metal. As she stepped around, she wasn't sure if she should interrupt him. The concentration in his eyes, which were as blue as the sea, was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She could see pain behind that concentration and didn't have it in her to break it.
She walked over to the costumes and saw that none of them had been stolen again. She brushed some dust off of the one in the center and turned back only to see the man still standing there. She peeked to see that he was looking down at his feet now.
She took a deep breath. This was her opportunity. She felt bad; she didn't know what to do. "Sir? Can I help you?"
Bucky looked up and turned to look at the source of the voice. It was smooth and sweet. 'Sir? Can I help you?' sounded like a fairytale coming from her lips. He looked her up and down briefly. Her blonde hair was in a messy braid that was threatening to fall out after a long day. Her eyes sparkled in the museum lighting. Her lips were full and slightly parted. Her blue lace dress hugged her figure, which could have put any of his favorite models to shame and made his mouth water, but his gaze went back to her eyes almost immediately.
"No, ma'am," he mustered. "Thank you."
"We're closing soon, but if you need anything, my name's Daisy," she said with a smile and a nod. She turned on her heel to leave the exhibit.
Boy, did her name suit her. She was more than just a daisy, but a field of them on a summer day that Bucky could practically smell.
"Actually, Miss Daisy?" Bucky spoke up.
Daisy turned back around to face Bucky. "Yes, sir?"
"Do you know anything about James Buchanan Barnes?" Bucky asked. His own name felt foreign on his tongue. "And Steve Rogers?"
"Yeah, lots," Daisy said with another nod and smile. "I did all of the work for this exhibit. There's a lot that didn't make the cut. If you wanted more information, I have it in my office." Bucky pursed his lips. Daisy eyed him curiously. She glanced from him to the memorial of James Buchanan Barnes and then back to Bucky. It was the eyes that gave it away. "You're him, aren't you?"
Bucky opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He closed his mouth only to open it again. "Yeah. So I just discovered, yeah."
"So it is all true," Daisy whispered.
"I should go," Bucky decided. "I'm sorry for any trouble, Miss Daisy."
"No, please," Daisy insisted. "Please, don't go."
"I need help finding out who I am," Bucky admitted. "It's all gone. I don't know if you could help me."
"You'd be surprised how many papers I have in my office with your name on them, Sergeant Barnes," Daisy pressed. "I can help you start. I would be honored."
"You would?" Bucky asked; she could hear the doubt in his voice.
Daisy nodded. "Come back here tomorrow morning at your convenience. Ask for me at the front desk and they'll show you where to go. I'll be waiting," she instructed. "I hope to see you."
"You will," Bucky assured her. "Have a lovely night, Miss Daisy."
Bucky left her with a nod and a smile. Before leaving the exhibit, Daisy made her way to the memorial for James Buchanan Barnes. She admired the cocky smirk of the past and the same light stubble and jawline. His eyes lacked the sparkle that they held in the past. Her fingers traced the date he died and then fell to her side.
Her theories had been right: the experiments performed on him did help him survive the fall and eventually become The Winter Soldier. With HYDRA defeated, he was no longer The Winter Soldier and unsure of who Bucky Barnes was. She was right. She had been right about everything in the midst of all the nay-sayers. Her smile grew as she realized this.
"He's alive," she said to herself. "I was right. He's alive."