His eyes widened with fear.
Fear is strange.
The name ransacked his clouded mind.
Bucky.
It echoed again.
Bucky.
The sky in the small orbs of his eyes darkened. He froze up.
But I still feel warm.
Heart racing; he was remembering.
Going against the mission.
The man with the wrinkled and dirty civilian clothing, the too large shield with the white star in the middle, the stare of his ice blue eyes that looks past the veterans of any old-time war song.
I feel like I know him from somewhere.
A simple "Bucky?" was all it took for memories to come pouring in.
Snow.
Fast Trains running on thin rails on the sides of mountains.
Nazis.
HYDRA.
Unbearable cold.
A slip.
"Bucky!"
Pain.
A new cold foreign object on his left side that will never warm up.
"Who the hell is Bucky?" He needs to forget. He needs to forget.
I will forget.
