CHAPTER 1
6 months. That's how long it had been since Steve had felt the tug of an unfamiliar arm pulling him out of the frigid, swirling waters of the Potomac. He'd searched high and low, trying to find the body belonging to that arm—the winter soldier, his enemy, his friend, his Bucky. And so far he'd found zip. Nada. Nothing. Not a whisper of a name or a semblance of a lead. The only times Steve even saw his face were in the dark recesses of his mind as he slept, Bucky's face covered in a mask that melted away, revealing another mask, and another, that he couldn't seem to pull off to reveal the man he once knew.
It's a bright morning, the sun shining between rows of wispy clouds, the birds chirping. Sitting outside on his balcony, with a cup of coffee in his hand, it seems almost idyllic. That is, except for the mess of papers sprawled over his lap. Files, journals, records, what-have-you, filled with dead ends about his lost friend. Steve couldn't help pouring over them, even though he had done it a thousand times. He had abandoned Bucky once, and he wasn't about to do it again. The captain's cell buzzes in his pocket, reverberating against his thigh, startling him enough to spill coffee, curse once, and then angrily pick up.
"What." It's not phrased like a question, Steve means it to be cutting.
"Jesus, Mr. Grinch. It's me." Natasha's voice, high and on-edge, and muffled by the typical cell-phone static, cuts through.
"Sorry, Natasha. I spilled cof—never mind. What's up?"
"There's news. About him." It takes all the strength Steve can muster (and that's a hell of a lot) to not drop his mug the instant he hears Natasha. He grips the cell phone so hard its a wonder it doesn't shatter, and demands to know everything.
An hour later, Steve and his newfound partner, Sam, are headed towards Brooklyn in Sam's SUV. Brooklyn—just a few miles away from Steve's midtown apartment. All this time, and Steve pictured Bucky hiding out in some slums in India, in urban Moscow, whatever—but never here. Maybe it was too painful to imagine, Bucky strolling around the streets where they had made so many memories and recalling nothing. Whatever the reason, Natasha had found him on a security camera outside a small apartment building. The time was stamped two months ago, and Steve prayed with all his heart to the god Bucky had believed in far more than Steve ever had that he was still here.
And its in no time at all that they arrive. Sam steps out of the car first, looking up at the building that looks even dingier than in the video—the Pompeiian, its called—crossing his arms. It takes Steve a while to get out of the car, his hands are trembling, and he can't seem to undo the seatbelt.
This isn't Steve's neighborhood, although he recognizes a few of the buildings around. The coffee shop down the street used to be a liquor store, and there's a library that looks suspiciously unchanged since the '40's.
"What now?" Sam looks over to Steve, gesturing to the building. They don't have a plan, any clue where to go. Just a scrap of outdated surveillance footage.
"Coffee?"
Steve can't believe himself. He's sitting with Sam, sipping his third coffee of the day (which isn't helping the trembling) instead of searching for Bucky. He's hoping for some caffeine-provoked inspiration, laughing with Sam about some half-hearted joke he just cracked to lighten the mood, when he sees him. Stocky build, hair shorter and curling at the edges, tight hoodie and loose jeans. The stubble is gone, replaced by his familiar sharp jaw. He's standing against a wall, flipping nonchalantly through a copy of last month's People, and its so strange, so entirely unexpected that Steve can't catch a breath. He's so filled with confusion, and yet relief, because here's his Bucky, looking healthy and whole and flipping through a god damned magazine without a care in the world.
"James! A little help here!" Sam's eyes shoot up, he knows Bucky by James Barnes, the man from the files, and he looks over at Steve, who nods his head in Bucky's direction, a finger to his lips. He may look whole, but Steve knows better than to startle him.
The voice that calls Bucky's official name comes into view. Its a girl, and she can't be more than fifteen, skinny as anything and struggling under the weight of a large box that's bigger than her entire torso.
Bucky chuckles—actually chuckles, a sound so familiar and enchanting it nearly shatters Steve's resolve to wait— and easily lifts the box with one hand, his metal one still by his side.
"Weakling." He calls out to the girl as she points him in the direction of the cash register.
"We can't all be bicep gods, James." She rolls her eyes, playfully. Steve can't even try and register the oddity of everything happening, he wants to absorb every moment of it, every moment of Bucky.
"Isn't it funny," Bucky says ruefully, setting the box down, "That you're the one that works here, but I'm the one going around doing all the heavy lifting?"
"Hilarious." The girl elbows Bucky, fast, and Steve holds his breath, waiting for a response. Bucky looks down, and grins from ear to ear. "It didn't even hurt?" The girl huffs, crossing her arms.
"Yeah, I get why I do the heavy-lifting now." Bucky's still grinning, and its so utterly bewildering that Steve doesn't even register when the two link arms and exit. It's Sam who slaps a $5 down on the counter and has to literally drag the captain out of the shop.
"What the hell was that, Steve?" Sam whispers lowly as they trail the pair. He knows that Steve isn't willing to lose sight of Bucky for a second.
"I have no clue." His voice sounds hollow, even to himself.
"They're headed for the Pompeiian. The girl, she doesn't seem dangerous. Concealed weapons only, yeah?" Steve nods his assent to Sam. "Barnes, he seems…good. Normal, I guess." Sam says it matter-of-factly, but the message is clear. He wants to know if Steve agrees.
"I hope he is, Sam. Honestly, its a long-shot with him. He might not even remember us." He's hoping that Bucky remembers. After all, he does go by James—so he's got to remember something.
A few seconds after Bucky and mystery girl disappear at the stairwell, Steve and Sam follow. They get out on the fifth floor of the building, and Steve finds himself face-to-face with the obnoxiously bright orange door that reads '#503' . The girl and Bucky entered about ten minutes ago, and he can hear the sounds of talking and clanging dishware, but can't make anything out.
"So, are we just supposed to knock?" Sam looks over at Steve quizzically. "Man, this is not how I thought this was gonna go down." Steve agrees, but says nothing. He steels himself, takes a breathe, and raises one shaking fist to knock.
Except he doesn't. He lets it fall back to his side, trembling against his torso.
"Cap, you good? You don't have to do this, you know."
"He's my best friend, Sam. I have to." Steve tries again, knocking three times, knowing that he can't fail Bucky again. And as the door swings open, Steve bunches his hands into fists and thinks 'till the end of the line till the end of the line till the end..'
(a/n thanks for reading. none of this belongs to me obviously, this is all marvel and disney and whatnot. this is probably terrible so there's no need to read this really but if you did thanks again)