He woke up long before the alarm went off. He'd gotten so used to sleeping lightly, always being alert, that he couldn't force his brain to shut off. At least he worked at a place with a neverending supply of coffee.
The hot shower – now that was something he could enjoy. The shower in his apartment in Budapest had been lukewarm at best. There were several different shampoos and conditioners in the shower to choose from, and he lathered them through his hair, careful to avoid the bandage on his forehead. Clean clothes felt like a little luxury as well, even though he had regularly washed his clothes in Budapest.
He used his phone as a GPS to guide him to the coffee shop. It had been only a five minute ride in Steve's car; walking took him half an hour. Considering that he wasn't sure exactly when he was supposed to show up for work, he figured at the very least, if he was late, someone else would be there to let him in.
He had brought his motorcycle helmet with him, so he could ride it home. He was relishing the idea of driving without someone chasing him, and he took a moment to admire the vehicle before entering the shop.
"Where have you been?" hissed the one Falcon had called Tic Tac. Bucky couldn't remember his name right away, but the nametag helped. Scott was in the middle of brewing something. The shop was basically empty except for a suit looking at his phone and an old guy sitting in the corner reading a newspaper. "Sharon's pissed."
Bucky ducked his head and went to the back to stow his helmet and backpack. Even though the journal wasn't his journal, he didn't want to lose it.
"James. You're late."
He turned to find the blonde woman glaring at him from the doorway.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Did Stark tell you about-"
"He left a note. Barnes is pretending to have amnesia. What the hell is that all about? Your shift starts at five-fifteen. Or did you 'forget'?"
"I'm not pretending," Bucky muttered, putting on his apron and nametag. "I went to the hospital last night."
"Do you have a doctor's note?"
He sighed. "No."
"James." Sharon stepped closer, and dropped her voice. "Please. I need you in the mornings. You know I can't have an ex-con out there handling the cash drawer alone."
Scott was an ex-con? Had to be, since he hadn't seen anyone else working. "Sorry," he repeated. "It's just... I don't even remember how I hit my head. I don't know what I'm doing."
Sharon squared her shoulders and tried to gather herself. "Okay. Maybe this is a good exercise. You can ask Scott to show you how to do everything. Maybe he'll learn it better having to teach it, instead of relying on asking you questions every two seconds."
Bucky just nodded. He couldn't help but squint at Sharon a little, and try to figure out why Steve had kissed her. She was pretty, sure. But she didn't really seem like Steve's type. God knew he had dragged Steve along on enough double dates that he wasn't even sure Steve had a type. He never knew how to act with women. Except that one, Peggy Carter. She only had eyes for Steve.
But Peggy was gone. Peggy was a lifetime ago.
And here (wherever here was), apparently, Steve was into guys.
He got through the morning. The learning of how to make the elaborate drinks occupied most of his time, how to foam and steam and add various flavors, as well as how to ring things up on the cash register. The rest of the time, however, he observed Scott and Sharon and tried to figure this whole thing out.
It had to be brainwashing. Had to be. Everything seemed to be the same, except for this Starkbucks nonsense. And it didn't seem like there were superheroes. He had snagged the newspaper the old man from earlier had left behind, and there was nothing, not about the Slokovia Accords or Tony Stark's empire or anything about the Winter Soldier program. Of course, he might accept that if a significant chunk of time had seemed to have passed since that day he had gone into cryo.
But the date on the newspaper was only one day after he had gone under.
Which, the more he thought about it, meant that he had woken up here at exactly the moment he had gone under.
Perhaps this was a vast conspiracy of brainwashing. Who knew how deep Hydra's arms were, how much power they had. They might have even made this entire town some kind of microcosm, brainwashed everyone, and planted them here. Everything could be a lie.
Wanda came into work at ten, and immediately asked him how he was feeling.
"I'm okay, I guess," he said. "I mean, my head doesn't hurt."
"And your memories?"
He shook his head. Later he asked her, "What am I like, normally? I mean, personality-wise?" The question felt like self-punishment, but he really wanted to know.
"I don't know, you're friendly. You smile a lot. We all like you. I mean, considering you were in combat and stuff, I think it's pretty amazing that you could have such a good outlook on life. Is that what you mean?"
"Yeah," he said, frowning. He used to be a happy guy, once upon a time. Back before the war. "I didn't have... PTSD? Post-traumatic stress?"
"Well," Wanda said, chewing on one black-polished fingernail. "I don't think so. Maybe you do, when you're alone or whatever." She shrugged. "I don't know, I just knew something was off yesterday, when you didn't smile once. Normally, I think, you'd be trying to play it off as a joke or something."
"They did a CT scan. At the hospital last night," Bucky told her. "They said there was nothing. No concussion or anything."
Wanda squinted her eyes and looked thoughtful. "Doctors don't always know everything," she said.
During his lunch break, he read more of his journal while eating some kind of panini Scott had showed him how to make. One page had bits of what looked like poetry or song lyrics.
I've got two faces
Blurry's the one I'm not
I wanna be known by you
And
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reason to be missed
Flipping to where the writing stopped and the blank pages began, Bucky removed the cap of a pen with his teeth and scribbled some words.
Brainwashing – if a blow to the head erased mine, could it work on the others? If not brainwashing, then what?
Going around trying to knock the others unconscious seemed like a bad way to test his theory. Unless it was Stark. He might be okay with giving Stark a concussion.
Go to library? Use internet?
He wasn't even sure what he might be looking for, and he wasn't very familiar using computers. What could he possibly type in the search box that might help him? Woke up with a head injury and everything's weird now?
Returning to the counter, he casually tried to interrogate Wanda. "So, you have a bit of an accent. Where are you from?"
"Oh," she said, blushing. "Is it bad, my accent?"
"No, it's…" he stopped himself from saying it was far less noticeable than what he remembered. "Very faint," he said.
"Oh. Um, well, my family came to America from Germany when I was eight." She pursed her lips and didn't say anything for a minute. "Kids made fun of my accent all through school."
He realized what he had done. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you self-conscious. I just… l don't remember anything about you."
"Good going," Clint said, breezing by. "You gonna point out my accent next?"
"What accent?" he asked.
Clint nudged Wanda, and she smiled a little. "My deaf accent."
"You're… deaf?" How had he not noticed the hearing aid in Clint's ear?
"Hard of hearing. Subtle difference. But yeah, some assholes like to point out that I talk funny."
So Clint was partially deaf. That was different. Maybe it was an injury from the battle that somehow Hydra had not been able to heal. They somehow fixed my arm which has been detached for seventy years, but they couldn't heal some hearing damage?
"Do…" Bucky chose his words carefully. He couldn't direct this question at Clint alone. "…either of you have kids?"
He knew Clint had kids, and a wife, but instead of confusion, Clint and Wanda just looked at each other and laughed. "Kids? Are you serious?" Clint said. "Maybe it's not amnesia. Maybe they gave you a lobotomy."
"So you don't have kids," Bucky said flatly.
"No!" Wanda laughed. "I'm still in college!"
"And… well, I'm not, but I'm very immature for my age," said Clint.
College? He pondered that one for a while.
The clock crept along toward the time Bucky figured Steve would show up. He didn't know why he was so antsy to talk to Steve, since he knew Steve didn't remember him, not the way Bucky remembered Steve. He knew more about Steve's past. Hopefully, he could figure out what was the same and what was different, and maybe spark some old memory. Kind of like how Steve did, by calling him "Bucky."
"Got your memory back yet?" Stark demanded, coming up behind him.
Bucky jumped. He hadn't seen Tony come in. "Not really," Bucky said.
"He's relearning everything pretty quickly," Sharon informed Stark. She looked at Bucky. "Let's talk in the office."
With a tortured glance at the clock – two-thirty, when Steve had arrived almost at three – Bucky followed Sharon and Stark into the office.
"I don't think he's faking, Tony," Sharon said.
"Are you a medical expert?" Stark said. "I fixed up that cut on his forehead. Look at that. There's no bruising or anything. He didn't hit it that hard."
"But he was unconscious," Sharon said. "He went to the hospital last night. Right?" She turned to Bucky. "You told me you went to the emergency room?"
"Yeah."
"And?" Stark asked, arms folded.
"They did some tests and a CT scan and they said everything was normal."
Stark looked at Sharon with a smug, told-you-so face.
Bucky couldn't let that stand. "They said I had amnesia, they just couldn't figure out why."
"Look, I'm not saying you don't have amnesia. What I'm saying is, I don't want to be filling out a ton of paperwork for some imaginary illness no one can prove you have."
"Maybe you should do what's right instead of worrying about what your father will think," Sharon said. Bucky raised his eyebrows; maybe she was Steve's type after all. She sure had balls.
"You wanna fill out paperwork?" Stark demanded of Bucky. "Is that what you're looking for? A free ride?"
"No, sir," Bucky said. "I can learn everything. Like Sharon said."
Stark looked triumphantly at Sharon. "There, see? No problem. No paperwork. And I'm not worried about my father, thank you very much."
"Fine," said Sharon curtly, and left the office.
"What are you still doing here?" Stark said to Bucky. "Get back to work."
"I'm not lying," Bucky said.
"I don't care. Go."
Bucky exhaled loudly and returned to the front. "Steve!" he said when he saw the familiar face at the counter.
"Hi, Bucky." Steve smiled, his cheeks pink. "How's your head?"
"It's fine," Bucky said. "Wait, let me see if I can remember your order. Venti – that means large, triple… something… with foam? A latte?"
Laughing, Steve said, "Close. Triple venti soy no-foam latte. I'm sorry. I always felt like I was ruining someone's day with my order until I met you."
"Okay, so triple means triple espresso shot." Bucky punched that in on the register. "And venti is large." Another punch. "Soy. No foam. Latte. Got it."
"So you're still having trouble remembering stuff?" Steve asked.
"Uh, kind of. Hang on, let me get your coffee."
Steve's order took five minutes to make. Wanda and Clint handled the other customers so Bucky could concentrate.
"I hope I didn't fuck it up," Bucky said, bringing the steaming cup to Steve.
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
Bucky wanted to say something else, just so Steve wouldn't go. He hadn't done much thinking on the fact that Steve was gay for him. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd never thought of his best friend like that, at least, not in any of the memories he had recovered. So when he asked Steve, "Do you want to go out for dinner?" he wasn't entirely thinking about going on a date.
It wasn't until Steve's face lit up that he realized what he had done.
