The Winter Soldier raises his right arm, his left fist clenched so tightly that, if he possessed skin, his fingernails would have dug into his palms and draw blood. As it is, he can't even feel what he was doing; it is just a reflex, a reflex he must have developed from a past life.
He knocks three times.
A familiar face opens the door, blonde and strong and like a poster boy. That face splits into a grin - no, not a grin. A jubilant smile, filling the man's face up with happiness and joy. It is the type of smile the Winter Soldier has never seen, save for when Alexander Pierce first laid eyes on him (but that was a decidedly different type of joy).
"Mr. Rogers," the Winter Soldier says before the man can embrace him, voice raspy with disuse. The face droops as he realizes that the Winter Soldier isn't whoever he had known, isn't Bucky. (Who the hell is Bucky?)
The man - "Call me Steve," he says in a sad and old voice, but the Winter Soldier just calls him Rogers - invites the Winter Soldier in, the smile gone. He tells him to sit down, and so the Winter Soldier sits. Rogers pours him a full glass of milk and sets it down, something in his eyes, and the Winter Soldier can tell he is remembering, remembering something from a past life. Maybe whoever Bucky had been liked milk.
The Winter Soldier thinks he likes Rogers' milk better than Alexander Pierce's.
He leaves with two addresses, and walks out the door without looking back, but he can tell Rogers' eyes are full of tears. The Winter Soldier wonders what that feels like.
The first address leads to an old woman, once beautiful but now faded and frail and thin. Her eyes sparkle, but her hands shake and her voice wavers.
"Sergeant Barnes…? Steve will be so excited…"
The Winter Soldier plays along, not because he feels sorry, but because it might help him remember, might help him get a sense of who is is, what he is. The old woman reminisces, and he learns about the Howling Commandos and how Bucky (who the hell is Bucky?) and Steve fought Nazis and Hydra (she mentions Dr. Zola and the Winter Soldier recalls a short man with a strange voice praising his design, his strength - "The Winter Soldier is a fitting name, no?"). She turns away for a moment and her bright brown eyes cloud over and when she turns back, they light up again with recognition.
"Sergeant Barnes…? You must tell Steve you're alive…"
The Winter Soldier plants a kiss on her wrinkled forehead, and Peggy Carter grabs his hand, his left hand, his metal and hard and killing hand, and the Winter Soldier yanks back, and Carter gasps and murmurs something he can't understand because he's already leaving, leaving that old woman and her memories and everything she said about James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant Barnes, Bucky Barnes (who the hell is Bucky?).
The door opens before the Winter Soldier can knock, and another face he knows opens it. He is breathing heavily as if he has just run, a jug of orange juice in his hand. "Come on in," he says, spreading his arms wide. "You want some orange juice?"
The Winter Soldier mutters a "no" and walks past Sam Wilson, making sure not to touch anything except the chair he sits down on. Wilson shrugs and sits down opposite him, clearly at ease despite sitting across an ex-assassin. He must sense the question in the Winter Soldier's eyes, because he says, "If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't have been ready to knock on that door. So, I figured, why not be hospitable?"
Wilson does most of the talking, and the Winter Soldier is grateful he does not talk about Bucky (who the hell is Bucky?). Wilson talks about Afghanistan, and the Winter Soldier remembers rocks and dirt and at one point a glimpse of red hair and scared eyes but then Wilson changes the subject suddenly, and the Winter Soldier has a feeling Wilson could tell the Winter Soldier was uncomfortable.
He begins to talk about his job, about helping people heal, and while he doesn't say it outright, the Winter Soldier can tell he wants to help him. "A while ago, I said you were the kind you stop, not the kind you save." Wilson looks at the Winter Soldier evenly over his orange juice. "I think I might be wrong."
The Winter Soldier leaves.
"You're not going to find me with a Google search, Mr. Barnes."
The woman's voice, low and raspy and a little bit sensual, startles the Winter Soldier.
He speaks slowly. "Not many people can sneak up on me."
The red haired figure laughs easily and slides into the chair beside him, a book clutched in her hands. "I've always loved libraries. They smell wonderful. And you might want to try searching something less obvious than 'Black Widow', because that is going to pull up a lot of spider pictures." There is a sly half-smile on her face, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief.
Silence. Then,
"How did you find me?"
She laughs again, running her finger down the spine of her book, something called A Clash of Kings. The Winter Soldier makes a note of it, placing it on his mental shelf beside Harry Potter and The Magic Treehouse.
"I'm a master assassin, Mr. Barnes." She tilts her head like a snake. "That means I'm also a master stalker."
Against his will, the Winter Soldier can feel a smile - what the hell is a smile? - creeping across his face, and a slow, soft laugh escapes his lips.
Romanoff's hair falls in front of her face, and Bu - the Winter Soldier feels some tingling of recognition as he stares into her eyes.
"Who are you?"
She looks back up and gives that sly smile again. "Why, Mr. Barnes, isn't that what you were trying to find out?"
The Winter Soldier glances back at his computer, and when he glances back up, she is gone.
Bucky Barnes raises his right arm, his left fist clenched so tightly that, if he possessed skin, his fingernails would have dug into his palms and draw blood. He can almost pretend he does, this time.
He knocks three times.
A familiar face opens the door, blonde and strong. It is wearier and warier this time, emotions hidden under a careful mask, but Bucky can see that he is searching for a sign of recognition.
"Steve," Bucky croaks.
The smile returns, and Bucky no longer wonders what tears feel like.