DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in MARVEL. All rights to their respective owners. I'm just playing in their sandbox for my own amusement.
"Do you even remember them?"
"I remember all of them."
The darkness seemed to go on forever, and sleep wouldn't come. Bucky stared out the dirty window of the small rented apartment, watching the moon drift slowly through the black sky. The clock ticked away; it didn't stop, slow, or wait... It counted the hours passing him by. He'd always—in the past—thought he could make things right tomorrow... but tomorrow wasn't a sure thing. He knew that now, better than he had then. Some of the things he'd done, he couldn't fix. But maybe someday, there were things he could fix.
Like so many nights before, Bucky gave up on sleep. He stood, leaving the creaking mattress behind, and abandoning it for the cold floor under the dim kitchen light. On his way, he retrieved his notebook, and a pen. Slowly, he sat cross-legged on the floor, and stared down at the page for a moment. So many names already took up the page. But there were still names that he had yet to remember; he knew this. He wouldn't let himself forget them... And now—thanks to recent events—he was beginning to remember more.
He tapped the pen over the first empty line, willing his mind to recall something—something to fill the empty space. He thought of the museum, shield, his mission... Steve. And it came to him. The pen seemed to work with a mind of its own as he wrote the name.
Howard and Maria Stark.
They were all looking for him. The whole world was... and this once, they were looking for the wrong person. But who would believe that? Bucky shook off the distractions—the feelings. He pulled his cap lower over his eyes as he entered the hallway leading to his apartment. He reached his door and stopped. There was someone inside... He waited, closing his eyes and listening to the footsteps as they faded farther into the room. Bucky let himself in, sticking to the shadows.
He rounded the corner and stared. Steve. Of course it would be Steve. Bucky watched in silence as Steve picked up the notebook. He opened it and leafed through the pages, his eyes distant and sad. Bucky steeled his expression and sighed.
The sound caught Steve's attention, and he turned. For a moment, there was total silence. "Do you know me?"
"You're Steve." He didn't want to drag Steve into this. "I read about you in a museum." Stay out of it Steve... this is war, not some back alley.
"I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying."
Bucky shifted slightly. He knew Cap already knew too much about what was going on. And knowing him... he wouldn't run away from this fight either. "I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore."
"Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive."
Bucky nodded stiffly. "That's smart. Good strategy." The look on Steve's face was as though he'd shot him—caused him physical pain.
"This doesn't have end in a fight, Buck."
He let out a quiet breath. "It always ends in a fight."
"You pulled me from the river. Why?"
Bucky fought the urge to hit him. He was always pulling Steve out of things... alleys, fights, rivers... "I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
It was over, for now. Bucky watched Steve's expression—his movements. Steve didn't want him to do this. What other choice was there, really?
"Are you sure about this?" Steve asked for what must have been the tenth time.
"I can't trust my own mind," Bucky replied with something that was supposed to resemble a smile.
That was what he remembered... then everything went cold—familiar cold. He knew he would wake up again... and he had the feeling that things weren't over—that when he woke, there would still be so much to do. Then he would have a chance to make things right...
Thank you to anyone who made it to the end. Hope you enjoyed it!