He was lost, he was so, so lost.

He was lost physically and he was lost mentally. He was soaking wet, his dark hair dripping onto the dirt. He was severely injured, his right arm clutching his torso as he painfully trekked the forest. To any human in sight, should there had been any, he would've looked like a monster with his tall height, heavily built body and that shiny metal arm and his deathly glare; but he was just a lost man, unsure of his identity and his existence.

Just a few hours prior, he was a man on a mission, he had an aim given to him, he had been given an order, a purpose. It all fell apart when his target, his mission, plunged him into a whirlpool of confusion and doubt by calling him a name that sounded so familiar yet so foreign. His mission, Steve Rogers, had called him James Buchanen Barnes... Bucky.

"You're my mission!" the Asset exclaimed punching the man below him into a red and black pulp. The mission, Captain America looked at him in his beaten daze, eyes locking with his, "Then finish it..." he began weakly, "cause i'm with you till the end of the line..."

'End of the line'. These words were so familiar that it frustrated him. Suddenly, a scene, a memory came to him. He followed a short weak looking man, the same man who was his mission, he called after him by a name, Steve, up a flight of rickety stairs. They had returned from a funeral, that blond man's mother's funeral. He offered to let that scrawny friend of his to stay with him, let him take care of him. He had uttered those words that his mission had repeated to him, "I'm with you till the end of the line pal".

He didn't want to go back to HYDRA, not when his head was hurting with memories that felt like his own yet not at all. They'd punish him if he told them he was remembering... the Winter Soldier was not allowed to remember the past he might have had, they'd put him back on that painful chair and prep him until his mind and will were snatched out of his brain and he'd lose his identity. Then they'd tell his mindless self to do what they wanted. He couldn't have that anymore, he wanted to remember who he was before the Winter Soldier, he wanted to know whether that Steve Rogers was telling the truth about him. He wanted to know!

He watched 'Steve' fall into the river with the debris, unconscious. The Asset was supposed to be satisfied that he had completed his mission but as he hung from the beam, holding on and looking down at the man's descending body about to drown, panic and fear and worry rose within him. He had never felt such emotions, ever. A voice in his head screamed at him to save that guy, to not let him die. It screamed, yelled, begged his body to jump after him and grab him. It kept telling him how important that man was to him, he didn't know how, it never told him that, just 'Steve' must be saved. So he let go of the beam he was clutching and dove in after the guy reaching out to him with his metal arm and dragging him up towards the river bank. He looked down at him and gently let go of the straps of his uniform he was clutching. Looking around and then back at the unconscious body he turned around and limped away, soaking wet himself. The voice told him to stay but he just walked ahead.

For days he wandered, staying in the forest, out of human sight, dragging his feet through the dirt. He was dirty and hungry and tired and scared. Somewhere along the woods he had found a mud covered hoodie jacket and he had put it on, ignoring the smell of dirt and decay, it covered his metal arm and his leather armour. He proceeded to walk out of the forest and along the highway, looking like a dirty hitch-hiker than a deadly assassin. He walked along the highway for days, stopping shortly for a small rest, no car or truck stopped for him. He was reduced to a wobbling mess, his combat boots clad feet were sour and aching, his food and water deprived body slowly deteriorating. It was dark and cold and he was just about to collapse to his knees, a set of headlights were headed towards him. Another car, he thought. He knew it was going to ignore him and move along like the rest but to his surprise it stopped right before him and the window rolled down. It was a lone woman who looked at him curiously, her eye colour unrecognisable in the dark. "Headed somewhere?" she asked. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice didn't come out so he shook his head, he wobbled on his feet, the world around him spinning. "Whoa! Are you okay?" she asked, alarmed. He placed his palm on the top of the woman's car to steady himself, his legs were just about to give away. He looked at the woman again, trying to figure out if she was a danger or not, so far she seemed like a harmless civilian, with good amount of money judging by her slick black car, she looked at him impassively for a moment. "Get in".

She grumbled as she angrily made her way to her car, I swear to God I will eat my own fingers before I answer to a house call from him ever again!

It was way past sun down and she was not happy with being called to a patients house so far away from where she lived for a false alarm. The man was constipated not going into a cardiac arrest!

Oh yes, she was a doctor. A well known and well respected doctor from Washington DC. She sat in her car and ran a hand through her light- almost blonde- brown hair. She started up her car and drove off, not happy with the idea of driving for an hour or so before she got home. Why was life not easy for her?

She was driving along the highway by the woodland. Immersed so deeply in her own thoughts that she almost did not notice a swaying stranger a few feet out. Her headlights illuminated his figure, a scratchy beard on a dirty face, clothes covered in grime and an obvious limp in his steps as he dragged himself along the road. With a sigh and her taser ready by her side she stopped her car right beside him. By the look on his face he looked surprised that someone had stopped a car for him. She rolled down the passenger side window and leaned forward, looking up at him. "Headed somewhere?" she asked trying to keep her anger over the patient out of her voice. The stranger opened his mouth to speak but closed it and shook his head, he wobbled on his feet causing her eyes to widen in alarm, "Whoa!" she exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

He looked weak and she could clearly tell that he was injured and weak as he put his palm over the top of her car to steady himself. She looked him over, making sure her face did not show any emotion, he did not seem dangerous, just weak. This is a bad idea, what if he's some sort of a creep? Doesn't seem like it.

She knew she might regret helping out a complete stranger but her instincts as a doctor overpowered her common sense. Well if he does try something fishy, we could just tase him, kick him out and drive over him. The voice in her head told her.

"Get in" she said finally. The stranger looked at her surprised but after a while of probably thinking over he opened the door and got in. "Seatbelt." she ordered. Quietly he pulled the seatbelt over himself. She drove in silence for a while. "What's your name?" she asked, still keeping her eyes on the road. The man was silent but then he spoke, his voice was rough because of the lack of use or a throat infection but still sounded so small, "I don't know..."

She glanced at him, eyes reading him over, he was curled up on himself trying to make himself look small like a terrified animal. "I'm Ryan Beckette". It was back to being quite. She looked him over again, his right arm was at a very strange angle and his left hand was clutching his right side. "I'm gonna drive you to a hospital." she told him. He looked at her with wide eyes full of horror, "No!" he exclaimed. Taking off the seatbelt and reaching for the door, to jump out. Ryan hit the brakes in alarm and glared at him as he struggled to open the door, he curled up his left hand into a fist pulling it back to punch the window. Her eyes widened, "Okay! Okay!" she exclaimed. "I'm not taking you to the hospital! Calm down!" she ordered. The man turned to glare at her, "I promise".

She stared at him in disbelief, "Please put on your seatbelt." she told him trying to calm herself down. Slowly, the man did as told but he was sitting up straighter, alert. With a deep resigned exhale she spoke, "You're injured, and judging by how weak you look..." he shot her a glare, "Your injuries are most likely infected. You need medical attention but you don't want to go to a hospital which is suspicious, so here's the thing, I'll look over your injuries and tend to them once we get to my house". The man looked at her surprised, "I'm a doctor." she told him as she started up her car and began driving again. Silence fell over them again as Ryan drove into the city towards her house.

"Thank you".

"You're welcome".

He looked around, the neighbourhood was posh and the houses were far apart. It was good, it meant people had their privacy. She drove to the very end, a big house farthest from all the others and fenced. "This is where I live." she told him as she drove along the short driveway and parked her car in front of her house. She ushered him up the front steps and led him inside.

The Soldier was smart enough to keep his guard up. He followed her inside, she turned to look at him and frowned, the bright lighting of her hallway showing the cuts and bruises on his face more clearly. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame of the front door, trying to keep himself from falling over. He was trying hard not to pass out from the sheer exhaustion but he could feel himself slipping slowly out of consciousness. Everything was turning blurry, the doctor's back was turned to him she was talking to him over her shoulder but she sounded far away and muffled. He tipped forward and fell with a loud thud, moments after, the darkness took over and his mind blanked.

She ushered the stranger in her house, taser still in her pocket and shoulders squared. He leaned against the door frame and she ran her eyes over his form assessing the damage that was visible. She turned her back to him, letting him know to follow her. She talked to him over her shoulder. "Listen, I don't know you, you don't know me." she began. "I'll deal with all your injuries-how did you get them anyway?- give you some meds for the obvious infections you've got and some food and send you on your way. You've got a dislocated shoulder as well and perhaps broken ribs with how you're breathing and a fever i'm guessing, so let's get star-" she was interrupted by a loud thud and she whirled around, taser in hand, she found nothing. She looked down and saw the stranger lying in a heap on her floor. Ryan looked at him blankly and calmly kneeled by his side and checked for pulse, Still alive, that's good.

She saw it then, blood slowly pooling around his head. She sighed and shook her head, "Great. now he has a concussion." she muttered to herself. "What's next, an infected prosthetic limb?"

Yeah...

I did it.

I wrote a 'Bucky gets found by someone, let's make him as hopelessly OOC as possible' fanfiction... Not that Im intentionally planning on making him TOO OOC but hey! I'm not perfect.

But I felt that I could feel easier writing a story not following the canon plot after the CATWS. Besides... everyone does it!

Why not me?

So I said to myself, "shit. Let's do it!"

And I did!

Hope you enjoy!

Review, let me know what you think.

Oh and this is obviously set after CATWS but I'm still pretty unsure whether I'll be taking it towards Captain America: Civil War. We'll see how this story unfolds!

Laters!