Bucky adjusted the collar on his jacket for the seventh time as he made his way towards the front doors of the white house. He felt uncomfortable, anxious, and virtually naked without his weaponry. Out of habit, he dodged eye contact as he made his way through the queue.

But his teeth began to grind as he saw the front of the line: uniformed guards checking identifications... and a metal detector. He swore under his breath. Of course.

He dropped his change, watch, and wallet into a bin before stepping under the arch and set off the inevitable shrill alarm.

"Sir." The security guards immediately put up their hands and stood in front of Bucky before he could step away. "All your pockets empty?"

One stood by Bucky expectantly, and the other grabbed the electronic wand. "Sir?"

Bucky tensed, his jaw clenching and his heart beginning to pound harder and he had to fight back the reflex to ball his hands into fists and prepare for combat. He had expected this, he reminded himself. This was under control.

He kept his left arm hanging limply by his side as he gestured to it with his right. "It's a prosthetic." He growled defensively.

The guards looks between each other and waved the wand over him. On cue, the wand beeped over his left arm. "Roll up for you sleeve?"

Bucky swallowed. He didn't want to make a scene. He didn't want to curb his chances to see Steve again, and he understood this was a delicate situation. Despite having regained most of his memories, he still felt uncomfortable in social situations. Infiltration, he could do. It was the conventional he stumbled with. While he wasn't lying, he didn't know how they'd react to the advanced technology.

"I'm here to see Jeffrey Mace." He decided to try.

The guards exchanged glances again. "Where did you hear that name?"

Bucky looked to the line of people behind him warily and back to the guard, "Is that something you want to talk about out here? He assured me he would clear his schedule to see me today." He said, leveling a Winter Soldier glare at the man who challenged him.

One of the guards stalked away, mumbling into his radio while the other waved the wand over him again. "We have to frisk you for weapons before we can see Mr. Mace."

"Fine." He responded, tersley. His eyes were cold, but he lifted his arms to facilitate the process. Mentally, he repeated to himself, these are not threats. Don't draw attention to yourself. Stay calm. Neutral. Not a threat.

He patted him down, first frisking along the sides, down his legs, then the outside of his arms. His eyebrow raised feeling the hard metal under his fingers, and he pushed up the man's sleeve to reveal the impressive glinting metal of his left arm. "Does this thing come off?" he found himself asking.

Bucky's eyes flashed with barely contained ire as his sleeve was pushed back to reveal the segmented, shiny metal. He couldn't help but pull it back from his touch. "It's not that kind of prosthetic." He responded defensively.

"Sir," the other guard said, coming back over. "Come with me, please." He grabbed Bucky behind the the arm and lead him quickly out of the crowded visitor's lobby.

"Fine." Bucky clipped with an undisguised roll of his eyes. He let himself be jostled and corralled out of the room, swallowing down the urge to resist. He hoped Steve would appreciate this. Steve... Bucky couldn't think of anything that he wouldn't do for him. Thoughts threatened to swallow him and he took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from drowning in the memories. He usually refused to allow himself the privilege of dwelling on Steve - not while he had been on mission. And now, he was so close to him he could almost feel him. Even if it wasn't quite his Steve...

A few minutes later, Bucky was being ushered by a woman in a well-tailored suit towards the interior of the white house, and into the back of a Lincoln towncar around the back of the Rose Garden. To his surprise, President Rogers was already there, across from him in a casual suit. "Good morning," he said pleasantly, offering him a bottle of water. "Sorry for the trouble at the lobby. I... I didn't know you had a prosthetic arm."

Bucky's face softened immediately as he looked up to see Steve across from him. In the light of the day, in normal clothing and cleanly shaven, Bucky looked like a different person. Despite his longer hair, the resemblance to the Bucky that President Rogers knew was unmistakable.

He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He had been preparing himself for an x-ray, for questions and hassling. The fact that he had been immediately cleared spoke silent volumes to how much Steve trusted him, even if he perhaps had no right to.

Bucky took the bottle with a nod of his head, but was more interestedly drinking in his face. He rubbed his hand self-consciously against his left arm and shrugged. "I didn't tell you." He said quietly. "Maybe I should have. But I don't like talking about it."

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning back into his seat. His chest was full of emotion as he looked over his friend; especially now in the new light of day he looked so much like him he could almost cry. It was like staring at a ghost. He sat cross-legged, his foot bouncing with anxiety. "I'm taking us to talk to a friend of mine; a scientist. If anybody can figure out what's going on here, its Tony Stark."

Bucky's eyes roamed to the window, but couldn't pull them away from Steve for very long. "Stark?" He questioned, brows furrowing. He remembered Howard. A simultaneous flash of recognition of a daring, cocky man ... and a pang of guilt. He took a swig of the water before setting it down and lacing his fingers together. Tony, though... headlines flashed in his mind's eye. Inventor. Like his father. Rich, a celebrity, and one of Steve's associates. Iron Man.

He gave a dry chuckle, "I think you know him where I'm from, too. I've never met him, but he makes the papers a lot."

"Mr. Stark is more into engineering, but he has a lot of connections. He focuses on alternative fuel research, though, and I know he's been very open minded to ...theoretical sciences." He opened a water bottle of his own, taking a long drink. "Anyway, its the only place I could even begin to think to start."

Bucky cleared his throat with a furrowed brow "Does he still have his Iron Man suit?" He asked genuinely curious, "Flashy... red and gold... metal?"

When he asked about the suit, Steve's eyebrows knit together. "Metal suit? What are you talking about?"

Bucky waved a hand dismissively, "I guess that's a no. He's all over the news where I'm from in it."

Bucky hesitated for a moment before changing the subject, tapping his fingers on his knee for a moment, "Thanks for meeting with me, Steve... President Rogers... I..." He gave a grunt of frustration and shook his head, not knowing how to act. Social situations were difficult enough for him sometimes, but here - he wanted to reach out, to touch him, to... to feel like he was home again.

Steve shook his head, understanding completely. It felt weird to be called 'President Rogers' by Bucky, but at the same time he had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't his Bucky.

Bucky nodded, for now, avoiding calling him by a name directly. President Rogers felt ... far too odd in his mouth. "Thanks for helping me... I know you didn't have to do this personally... hell, you didn't have to help me at all considering... the intrusion last night... and how crazy it still probably sounds."

"You're lucky you look so much...exactly like him. You sound like him..." he paused and shook his head, laughing darkly to himself. "You smell like him."

Bucky lifted an eyebrow, studying Steve's face and trying to read between the lines. His shoulders relaxed and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for a moment. "You too."
He brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, hooking it behind an ear. "I mean... I am James Buchanan Barnes... Bucky... just... well... I don't think I'm the same man you knew... I.. am sorry, Ste - President Rogers. I wish I was. I... miss you." He winced, his stomach clenching at the admission.

The emotion was getting hard to control. He rubbed his face in his hands, trying to focus. "I miss you, too, Bucky..." He looked him over, still in disbelief. "Its been... almost twelve years now, Bucky. But it feel like it was yesterday. I know... I know when we enlisted there was always the chance that something could happen. But I just never thought you'd actually..." a tear slipped down his cheek and Steve wiped it away hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I know you're not him but I still feel like I should say something. Say... how sorry I was I couldn't save you, Bucky."

Steve's words had more of an effect on the man than he might have assumed. Bucky's face crumpled as he pulled his eyes away from Steve's impossibly blue ones, and scrubbed at his face. He took a shaking breath, "If... what happened here is anything like what happened to us... it wasn't your fault."

"I know that's true. Somewhere in here," he pointed to his head, "I know that's true. But it doesn't make it any less painful. Of all the people I've saved in my life... the two people I loved the most in the world I ... I couldn't do anything about it. Peggy was out of my reach, but Bucky... you were right there. Three feet to the left and it would have been me instead of you. Three feet to the right and we'd both be alive. It just doesn't seem fair sometimes. Like none of my medals or my training or anything ever amounted to anything. Because no matter what I couldn't save you two."

Bucky hesitated for a moment, chewing at his lip. "You need to stop blaming yourself for things that you had no control over, Steve." He said quietly. The more he learned about this Steve-but-not-Steve, the harder it was to distinguish him from the man that Bucky...

He swallowed, and finally did what he'd been wanting to do since the night before. He reached across with his right hand, and took Steve's, "You blamed yourself for what happened with me, too. Even though I was the one who put myself into the line of fire." He gave Steve's hand a squeeze.

Steve interlocked his fingers into Bucky's enthusiastically, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face. It was Bucky but it wasn't, but it didn't seem to matter right now. Steve needed to say these things; to get them off his chest. For Bucky to hear them even if it wasn't the same Bucky. "I can't promise that," he said honestly. "Every day I go over it in my head - wondering if I should have known. If I missed anything that could have saved you. Even though the answer is always no, I still look for it." He shook his head, "Random seems just too cruel."

Bucky smiled at the contact that he had been craving, even something as small as this, giving Steve's hand a light squeeze. How long had it been since he had touched anyone with tenderness...? "You told me last night that I was hit by an IED... it was war. The world is cruel and random. You can't continue to beat yourself up because you survived, Steve."

"Watch me." He shook his head with a self-depreciating chuckle. "I know you're right. But it still hurts. Between you and Peggy, that's why I went into politics. I never had a real desire to do so - it wasn't my calling or anything. But I couldn't deny that it was where the real power lay. The real ability to affect change. Soldiers just follow orders, and I used to be okay with that. But after the things I've seen..." He paused and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep the tears at bay, "Things need to change. Perhaps I'm naive for thinking I can change the world, but damnit if I'm not going to try."

"If anyone can, it's you." He said honesty. "You're a good man. A man I followed into battle on more than one occasion. You never stood for bullies, no matter how big they were." He said with a light chuckle. "Maybe this really is the place you belong." His hand lingered in Steve's, needily.

Steve couldn't help but smile, despite the shine in his eyes from his unshed tears. He pulled on Bucky's hand, tugging into into a hug. He wrapped his arms around his friend and was suddenly overwhelmed. This was Bucky. It didn't matter what his brain was telling him; every other instinct in his body knew it was the case. The way he felt into his arms. His warmth. His scent. His cadence. He buries his face in his neck and breathed him in, his hands clapping on his back.

Bucky fell into Steve's embrace, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt strong arms circling his shoulders and Steve's fragrance filled his nose as his face brushed against his cheek. Slowly, self-consciously, he brought his arms up and circled Steve's chest, clinging to him. His embrace was surprisingly strong, and his left arm hard, but despite his strength, there was a shake in his limbs with barely restrained emotion. It felt so right. He missed Steve so much. He shouldn't have run from him...

"Bucky..." Steve breathed, letting logic fade away and choosing to just live in this moment. "Bucky I've missed you so much," he whispered, his mouth just centimeters away from his ear. "I've missed you so much..."

The emotions were finally spilling over, and the tears were falling over his face. He wiped them into Bucky's shoulder and held the hug, squeezing his eyes shut and praying to any God that would listen that Bucky - his Bucky - could somehow feel what he was feeling; that he knew how sorry he was and how much he missed him.

Bucky had faced seasoned soldiers, impossible security, and formidable foes. But here in Steve's arms he began to break, cracks forming in his deliberately cultivated veneer of composure. He hadn't been permitted weakness. Hadn't even permitted it in himself on his own mission of revenge. But he had been strong for so long... too long. Hearing, feeling Steve's words in a breath against his ear - it was the last straw. Bucky's facade crumbled and he heaved a wet sob into his shoulder as words began to tumble from his mouth. "Steve... I've missed you, too. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

They just held each other for what seemed like hours. Steve let him cry on his shoulder which only egged his own tears to continue to fall. His heart was leaping; it knew nothing of whatever magic or science or psychosis had brought Bucky back to him, but it no longer mattered in this moment. Realities apart but he still felt just as close to this man as ever. He didn't pull away until the sobs stilled, and even then, he pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes. A lingering thought had been creeping on the corners of his mind, and he took a shuddering breath. "We'll figure out what's going on. We'll get you back."

Bucky's eyes were red, puffy and wet when he finally met Steve's, which only made the blue-grey of his eyes shine all the brighter. He nodded, chewing on his lip to help steady himself before he trusted himself to speak without (much of) a quaver in his voice. "Thank you."