I'm late to this party. I also haven't read a single fanfiction on them so I've no idea if this idea is overdone or not (probably is), but I couldn't shake it out of my mind so here it goes?

He'd saved him… That blonde, goody-goody with the righteous jaw line and star spangled costume… He was his mission. Point, shoot, done. Granted this mission went entirely awry. The Winter Soldier hadn't taken into account accomplices that could fly or that conniving red head. He also didn't take into account that "Captain America" would know him… or at least claim to know him. Any thoughts of it being some weird scheme to gain the upper hand were obliterated by his refusal to fight the Soldier on the aircraft. The second the Captain had first uttered his name everything the Soldier knew had shattered; exploding into thousands of pieces of a false realties that had become all The Asset knew. The memories that he thought were there, but wasn't entirely sure if they really were there had become ravenous hounds, hungry to be fed, to be given a chance to live again. Then it had all been taken away once more… But the Soldier knew that now… The longer he was out of cryo, the more he started to remember, closer to present first and then further and further away.

Gritting his teeth, he walked into the museum exhibit. Why? He'd been here before. He'd seen it all already. Each time it was the same thing. He'd look at a life not his. Be taunted with a face that looked like his. But a life he had never experienced…at least not yet. He'd seen this exhibit too many times to deny that he was once in fact Bucky Barnes.

Hydra was clever with their handling of him. They made sure to memory wipe when necessary but always made sure he knew he had his memory wiped. It was like a taunt. He knew they'd catch up to him eventually. The tracking devices and fail-safes were still implemented deep within his mechanical arm. Instinctively, he looked down at his left appendage, before pulling his arms into a tight cross over his chest. He walked further into the exhibit, now hearing the audio telling the story of Captain America's life.

Steve Rogers. The Soldier's throat clenched and his stomach flipped. He felt the undeniable sensation to run.

He walked along the railing, looking at the trinkets and memorabilia of America's Greatest Captain. He stopped in front of one blown up image. It was his own face. Each time this part of the exhibit froze his heart. On it a short blurb about his life, his date of birth and date of death. The words and dates rang hollow on a man who couldn't remember any of it. He couldn't remember when he was young; he couldn't even remember when he was grown. He looked up, listening to the narrator, talking about the Howling Commandos. "Barnes was the only Howling Commando to give his life…"

He didn't want to listen anymore. He'd heard it all before. Over and over. Morning and afternoon. He watched in a strange sense of shock, anger and terror as little clips showed him and Rogers standing next to each other. He watched the smiles of men who didn't seem to know true suffering or fear, but did…they had taken on Hydra; The Red Skull. They had won! That guy and Captain America. This man, standing before the exhibit with a metal arm and disheveled brown hair was not Bucky Barnes. He was someone else who stole a dead man's face. It was what he came to feel each and every time he walked this now all-too-familiar exhibit.

"Twelve times…" a man with dark chocolate skin said next to the Soldier. He wore a security hat and a silver pin atop his beast pocket that signified him as one of the security members. "I've seen you come in here twelve times."

Of course, the brunette didn't respond. He grunted, shrugging and attempted to walk away.

"Oh, not for the talking I see? Maybe shooting at guys is more your style?"

This time, the Soldier turned to really look at the man. He was familiar… His eyes widened in realization. He was that stupid flying guy! Instinctively, the brunette went for a knife in his pocket.

"That won't be necessary," the other man said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. "You're out numbered anyway."

"I've taken on twenty men just fine before…" the Soldier growled, he looked around, children and families were in the room, just now taking notice of what was happening. Their looks of shock and terror plagued the Soldier in a way he didn't know existed.

"Not here man…" the faux security guard said, walking forward, forcing the Soldier to start walking backward. He hit someone's chest. It was broad and toned. His body reacted in a way that caused a gasp to escape his mouth. A warming sensation, gentle at first but grew in intensity surged where his back had touched that strong chest. His fingers tingled and he felt the worst sensation of just wanting to…lean back. He forced himself away, ignoring how his body went cold as he whirled to see a blonde with an all-too-familiar face.

"I didn't want it to be like this," Captain America said. "I honestly thought you'd run further…"

The brunette felt his heart begin to slam into his rib cage. Each time it beat harder, faster; like it was trying to jump out of his chest and thrust itself into the hands of the blonde man. He felt his shoulders tense and his fingers start to tingle. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Like a drug addict with a fix he just couldn't get… He felt sick.

"Guess he ain't so smart," Roger's accomplice said crossing his arms over his chest, a smug look atop his features.

The brunette glared at the man, cursing in Russian under his breath as he tried to calm his unstable body.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever you say," the African American shot back.

"Look," Rogers said. "I won't force you to come with me. But…you have been here twelve times." There was a glint of hope in the captain's eyes. One the Soldier found to be rather…inspiring. His heart kept pounding. The Soldier could swear it was now climbing up his throat. "You ran from Hydra. You saved me. I want to help you, Bucky."

The Soldier felt his whole body shake and growled, only to keep from perhaps uttering something less dignified. What was this? It was like there was another being inside him doing its damned to rip apart from his mortal form and launch itself away. Each move, each breath and syllable Rogers uttered sent the Soldier's body into a desperate turmoil. It was terrifying, but he didn't want to run away from it. He needed to understand it. It was the only thing he had left…even if he didn't deserve it.

"That's not my name," he hissed, backing away from both of them. His eyes darted to the now empty room. Instead of anyone calling for help, people just avoid a situation entirely. Typical, disgusting human nature. Never wanting to get their hands dirty…yet they'd bleat and whine when they weren't safe. Hydra stood to defend them… To create peace and unity and free them from an existence of fear and disgusting behavioral patterns such as this.

"Okay, then what do you want to be called?" Rogers asked, taking a step forward, resulting in the Soldier taking two steps back. He couldn't chance Rogers getting closer. If he lost control completely…he was frightened with what would happen. "We're not kidnapping you. You don't have to keep up this dance you know."

"I don't know how to dance…" he offered softly. Talking to him, actually responding sent a shiver down the Soldier's spine, one that felt like a shot of narcotics right into the bloodstream. He wanted more, but feared the side effects.

"You used to be really good at it."

The brunette felt his cheeks heat up, his eyes started to sting and his throat clenched up. He couldn't take much more of this. He needed to either run or for this to not be so public. "I tried to kill you." Another group of students and families came into this section of the exhibit.

Rogers seemed to notice the crowd as well as he glanced around the room. "We can go somewhere else and talk this out? Grab coffee?"

The Soldier laughed, it was guttural and full of apprehension. But the way his body felt exposed the fat lie he was trying to feed himself. He wanted to go. Every inch of his body felt compelled to step forward, to just give in and stop fighting whatever magnetism that Rogers had over him. It'd be easier. "Eat pastries too?" he spat sarcastically.

"If you'd like." Rogers shrugged.

"That was a joke, Rogers," the brunette responded.

"I don't care that you tried to kill me. You weren't you. You still aren't you. But how can I not reasonably think that you don't want to know who you really are? You're here. You keep coming back here!"

The Soldier didn't have anything intelligent to respond with. Everything was true. He did want to know… But he feared knowing. With Hydra, he'd done some pretty gruesome things. He'd killed children, innocents, people who weren't even his targets. He'd set fires to buildings, not caring who was inside. Shot dogs and cats… This him and the him that Rogers knew weren't the same. They probably couldn't even stand to be in the same room together.

"Bucky. Just talk with us. You don't have to stay."

"Fine," he grumbled. Though once more he couldn't fool himself. His body rejoiced in the familiarity of the other's closeness. It sang out with low heated hums that pleasantly numbed his body as he followed those broad shoulders and that flawless jaw line…

They'd selected a café with outdoor seating. The Soldier didn't like it, but alas, here he was, sitting with Captain America and Wing-Guy; staring down his nose at a "mocha latte…" Not that he minded having an excuse to look distant or uninterested. He didn't want to look at Rogers. He didn't know how much more of these sensations he could take.

"It's kind of sweet. Coffee has way improved since our day," Steve said, seemingly trying to break the silence.

Sam still had his arms crossed over his chest. He had a black coffee resting in front of him; though the Soldier was sure he had no intentions of drinking it. Perhaps he was just going to use it to burn the brunette's face if this went south…

"Bucky…" Steve said in a softer, more serious tone.

The brunette felt the shiver start low in his spine and followed the sensation as it climbed slowly up his spine till it washed over his shoulders like a lover longing for a lost love. Stormy-blue eyes locked with ocean-blues as the Soldier fought every fight or flight sense he had; Hydra programming included.

"You never told me what to call you, so I'm calling you what I've always called you," Steve said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't know what I'm doing…" "Bucky" finally blurted out. "I should be killing you. I should have killed you." He saw Sam straight up out the corner of his eye. "But I'm out…drinking some kind of "Froo-froo" drink with you."

"Well, you're just kind of staring at it. I haven't seen you take a sip yet," Steve countered with a crooked smile.

"Fine. You can call me Bucky." Bucky felt his heart flip. It made the world feel like it was spinning for a moment. The name felt foreign on his own tongue even though he'd read it countless times back at the museum.

"This is the most fucked up conversation I've ever witnessed," Sam interjected. "Ya'll aren't even on the same subjects till three sentences later…"

Bucky responded by rolling up his straw's wrapper and flicking it at Sam. The other gentleman simply raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Wanna do that again?"

"Both of you. Gosh, it's like watching two-year-olds," Steve said as he quickly responded to Bucky grabbing a knife on the table.

Bucky released the knife, folding his arms over his chest and staring at Steve. High cheekbones, blonde hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin and no hint of stubble. Male perfection. Bucky wanted to hate him, but it was like the thought was a volatile virus that his body responded to by forcing his stomach to go cold and he blinked a few times, trying to settle how light-headed he'd suddenly felt.

"So I'm going to go back to the basics here," Steve said as he fingered the mouth of his latte cup gingerly. "Are we going our separate ways after we leave this café?"

Bucky felt his spine shiver once more, this time it was more desperate, like a child, afraid of the dark. "I haven't decided yet."

"Do you want to know who you were?" Steve shot back.

"I don't know yet."

"Am I still your mission?"

"Haven't figured it out yet." Bucky poked at his drink cup.

Sam snorted. "Jesus. You talk to all your guests like this?"

"Sam…" the captain warned, but there was still a gentle tone to his voice, however stern. "Do you support Hydra?"

"Maybe."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Why?" Steve asked, sitting back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Because I don't want a reason to go back."

"So you don't support Hydra," Steve reasoned.

"I didn't say that," Bucky said, he pushed his latte cup back and forth between his fingers. Gloved hands in nearly eighty degree weather…

"So…you like their goals but not their means?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded.

"How do you do that?" Bucky finally asked, cocking his head to the side, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm thinking." The idea was more comforting than it was unnerving.

"We're best friends. That's what we do," Steve responded, a small smile playing at his lips.

"But I can't do that to you."

"You haven't tried…" Steve teased. "Try me."

"I don't know where to begin."

"So, tell me why I want you to come with us."

Bucky knitted his brows together, focusing on Steve's face. He felt his heart run cold and his throat clench. What was he doing? He shouldn't even be here. He should never have seen that stupid museum exhibit. He should have pretended. He should have just gone back… He wouldn't have to face this sort of pain if he'd just gone back. "…You…want to prove to me that I'm not who I think I am. Show me I'm better than this, even though I think you're full of shit…but you still have hope for me."

Steve nodded, his smile widening. "Good job."

"We shouldn't stay out here much longer," Sam said looking around. "I've seen a couple black vans drive by…slowly."

Bucky instantly stood up, causing the other two to do the same. He knocked his coffee over, cursing in Russian, his heart racing. "I have tracking devices installed…"

"Seriously? You didn't think it was a good idea to tell us that earlier?" Sam said, incredulously.

"I have an idea… if you trust me," Steve said, his blue eyes shimmering with an open challenge, baiting Bucky to comply out of sheer curiosity.

"I certainly don't trust you…" Bucky said. "But what's your idea?"

Steve smiled, nodding in acceptance. "Come with us now. We can get those trackers out. I know a guy."

"You know a guy?" Sam asked, his eyes again scanning the roads.

"What do you say, Buck?" Steve asked, his face smug, like he already knew Bucky's answer. It infuriated Bucky…that this guy could be so self-assured to feel as if Bucky had no other choice. He wanted to say no. But the thought had made his fingers and toes go cold.

"Whatever, Captain Smart-Ass."