His throat feels swollen with unshed tears and he can't seem to stop looking at the photo in front of him. After a few moments he turns it to face his handler, and Handler-Steve's eyes are looking a little glassy too. "This is Winnifred," the Asset says, pointing to his mother before flipping to the first picture of her. "You drew her here."

His handler's mouth turns into a little 'O' of surprise and he leans closer to the book, reaching up as if to take it, before just as quickly dropping his hands when the Asset tenses. "Oh, I didn't realise they would put one of my pictures in there," he breathes, his eyes bright.

The Asset nods, and flips business-like back to the family picture, trying to remember the names the book had given him. He points to the father. "George," he says, eyeing his handler until he nods. He points to each girl in succession, starting with the oldest. "Becca, Alice, and… Hannah." He stares at Hannah a moment longer because she's the one he remembers the least before he looks back up at his handler.

"Yes," his handler says quietly. "That's them." A smile suddenly flashes over his face and he looks up at him, shaking his head. "You doted on those girls."

The Asset feels a ghost of a smile glide over his face at the thought and he looks quietly over the picture of the three girls, trying to memorize their faces. "What… happened to them?" He looks up at his handler, his hand tightening on the book at the sudden important thought. "Where are they? Do you know?"

His handler opens his mouth for a second before simply staring at him, seemingly at a loss for words. He sighs quietly and sits back slightly. "You… Buck, you know you were with Hydra for a long time, right?" He asks carefully and the Asset nods slowly. His handler grimaces slightly and runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," he says quietly, blowing out a breath and looking up at him. "So… after I woke up… SHIELD gave me a lot of files to help me catch up on things."

The Asset watches him silently, he's not exactly sure what his handler means by 'woke up', or where he's going with this, but a shadow of sadness settles over his handler's face as he speaks, making the Asset clutch the book a little closer to himself.

"They gave me some files on the Commandos," his handler continues. "So I could know what happened to them. But afterwards I looked up the Barneses too. They were like family to me too, you know, and I just…" He trails off for a second before taking in a breath. "Ma Barnes was the first one to go," he says softly, looking down as he fiddles with his fingers. "She had a stroke in '72. She was seventy-four when she died."

The bottom drops out of the Asset's stomach and he feels his lungs stall, his eyes wide and locked onto his handler. His hands clutch the book subconsciously and his mind races. You know you were with Hydra for a long time, right? his handler had asked. He had known that, he had, but he'd forgotten how time worked for everyone else. Time hadn't used to touch him before. But now it feels like it's swinging back around and punching him full in the face.

"George Barnes lived longer," his handler says, glancing up at him. "He died of old age in 1989. He was ninety-three." He shifts, drawing one leg up on to the couch with him. "Becca… she was pregnant when we were at war."

The Asset nods because he can remember reading that, and he leans forward, suddenly desperate for more information. "Did she have her baby?"

His handler's mouth eases into a smile. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Noah Proctor. He was born in January, before you died. I drew a picture of you to send home so that Becca could show him." The Asset nods and blinks, his eyes feeling wet as he leans back again. "She had another child," his handler continues. "Leah. But she died in a biking accident as a teenager. Becca died in 1998."

The Asset can do nothing but stare as his handler unloads a lifetime of information on him. He'd just barely begun to think of these people as alive and connected to him and now… He swallows and watches as his handler shifts and catches his eye. "Noah got married though," he says. "And he's still alive. He has two kids. Scott and Kimberly Proctor." The corner of his mouth edges up. "Scott'll be forty this year, and Kimberly's turning thirty-five." He gives him a small smile. "You have a nephew Buck, and a great-nephew and niece."

The Asset opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. The idea is so out of the blue that he's not sure how to even process it. He'd started this day without even knowing he'd had a family, and now he learns it had been busy growing this whole time. "What… what about Alice?" He gets out finally. "And Hannah?"

His handler brings a hand up and rubs the back of his neck. "For Alice… I don't know if you remember, but she was engaged before we both got sent of to Europe." The Asset shakes his head and his handler's mouth twitches. "He was a nice fella," he says. "Named Liam. He died in the war though. Got stationed in the Pacific." He drops his arm. "Alice never married after that. She became a nurse, I think." He looks up at him. "She died in 2009. She was eighty-five."

The Asset presses his lips together, trying to hold back the rush of feelings swirling in his chest, his mind racing. 2009. That had only been four years ago. He'd missed her by four years.

"Hannah's still alive though." He darts his head up to look at his handler and hardly dares to breathe. "She got married to someone named Sean," his handler continues. "They never had any kids and she's a widow now. She's eighty-seven, and she still lives in state."

The Asset sits up abruptly, staring at his handler. "She's still alive?" He repeats, his heart pounding.

His handler looks back at him. "Yeah," he says softly. "She's still alive. She lives upstate."

The Asset lets out a shuddery breath and pulls back, drawing a hand up to cover his eyes, the aching in his chest sharper than before. Of all his sisters… Hannah is the only one still alive. But— Tears press at his eyelids and he swallows. "I don't remember her," he says hollowly. "I don't— I didn't even know I had a third sister until today."

When he looks up, his handler looks devastated, his face reflecting the Asset's own feelings. The Asset's stomach churns unhappily, and he lurches up suddenly from the couch, setting his book aside and breathing in as he makes his way determinedly over to his dresser. He pulls open the first drawer and roots around single-mindedly until he finds his first journal, the book now stuck full of colourful sticky notes.

"This is what I can remember," he says, coming back to the couch and thrusting the book towards his handler. "Romanoff gave it to me, and I wrote down—" He trails off self-consciously and can't quite get himself to meet his handler's eyes. "The orange tabs are the ones from when you were small," he mumbles finally.

His handler looks at the book with wide eyes and reaches for it reverently. For his part, the Asset feels a small burst of unease at the idea of revealing such an important secret, but he shoves it down, the rest of him more focused on getting as many answers as he can to the bits and pieces of his life that he can remember.

He sits down and watches as his handler pulls the book towards himself, slowly flipping through a few of the pages, his eyes darting over the various entries. "This is really amazing, Buck," he says quietly, and the Asset finds his shoulders relaxing at the praise. After a few minutes his handler looks up at him, his eyes suddenly bright.

"I'm sure you'll remember Hannah," he says quickly. "You just need some time." He taps his thumb against the journal, his knee bouncing excitedly on the couch. "But what if I showed you something? I could show you what I remember. With Tony's tech."

The Asset's eyes widen and he almost gasps, sitting up straight as his mind spins at the implications of his handler's offering. "Yes," he says breathlessly. "Yes. Now. Please."

His handler smiles excitedly and looks up at the ceiling, the journal loose in his hands. "JARVIS," he says, a note of anticipation in his voice. "Where's Tony? Can you ask him to get the BARF tech ready for me and Bucky?"

JARVIS replies affirmatively and tells them that Stark will meet them in the BARF room. The Asset's stomach swoops with nerves as he stands up, accepting his journal back from his handler and putting it away with shaking hands, his mind abuzz. He still can't quite yet grasp the magnitude of everything his handler had told him. It's so big, so much, that he feels it might rise up and swallow him if he tries to figure it all out at once.

Instead he tries to focus on one thing at a time, the small things that he can accept and understand. Like the fact that he has a living sister and that his handler can show her to him. His hands tremble in anticipation and nerves as he turns to follow his handler out of the room, and his thoughts race as they make their way down to the BARF room. He finds himself pulling up every memory he can of his family, trying to reconcile himself with the idea that they had all been Before. Of course, it makes sense if he thinks about it, but it's so far from anything he'd been thinking that it's hard to process.

Something else steals his thoughts for a moment though, and he looks up at his handler as the elevator begins bringing them down. "What about the Commandos?" He asks quietly, his right hand coming to clench discretely at his pants. "What happened to them?"

A flicker of sadness passes over his handler's face and he looks down. His shoulders heave up and down and he looks up. "They're all dead too," he says quietly, flicking his eyes towards him. "I think Morita was the last one to go, in 2010."

Something twists unhappily in his stomach and the Asset looks down and away, turning over the new information in his brain. He supposes in a way it makes sense, for everyone to be gone, even if his chest feels hollow at the thought. His handler had said that his first Hydra mission had been eight years after he had been captured, in 1953. So that would mean he had been captured sometime in 1945, two years after going to war. If it's 2013 now, then he had been working for Hydra for about sixty-eight years. Almost a lifetime. It makes sense then, that everyone he'd known before would have already lived out their lives.

Everyone but his handler. His eyes flick up and he stares at him, wondering for the first time how his handler can be here with him, looking like hardly a day has passed since 1945.

He doesn't have much time to wonder because the elevator opens and they both step out. Stark is indeed waiting for them when they get to the BARF room, his arms swinging as he gives Handler-Steve a mock salute and gets to work. It's obvious he's curious about the impromptu session, and his eyebrow raises in surprise when he learns that it's Handler-Steve who wants to use it, but he shows him the basics of how to use the machine and then gets out of their way, leaving them in private to explore his handler's chosen memory.

The Asset's heart pounds unreasonably fast as he watches his handler put on the glasses and he shifts his feet in a mix of impatience and uneasiness as he waits for the machines to be turned on. His handler clicks something at the computer desk before stepping closer to the middle of the room, and the Asset finds his tongue pressing into the roof of his mouth as he waits with bated breath for the hologram projectors to turn on.

An image flickers in front of them, and the Asset stands frozen, watching as a narrow brown house comes into view, its two stories flanked by other narrow houses. "Oh," his handler breathes as two boys dressed in shorts and holding bookbags come into view, walking next to each other on the sidewalk. As he watches, his handler lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. "I didn't realise it would show my colourblindness."

The Asset blinks at his handler and looks back towards the projection, noting the predominately yellow and brown tinge to the scene. He's abruptly reminded of a moment long ago, when he had been watching a movie with his handler, and had felt the pressing need to tell his handler the colours on screen. His mouth drops open and he stares, understanding dawning.

"I could see blue too," his handler says, his eyes following the two boys as they walk towards the house. "But this is basically how everything looked before the serum." The Asset closes his mouth and nods, silently watching the two boys — one blond, that must be his handler when he had been small, and one brown haired that must be… must be him from Before — as they climb the steps to the house.

"This was your house," his handler says quietly as the holo-Bucky pushes open the door, the scene shifting so they can see inside the building. Holo-Bucky turns to laugh at something holo-Steve had said, giving the Asset a chance to take in the entryway. A set of coat hooks hang on the wall behind the door, which the boys make use of as they set their bags down. In front of them, a narrow staircase leads upwards, but they turn towards what must be the living room of the house.

It is sparsely furnished, the wood floor bare of any carpet, the front window on their right letting light in onto the worn planks. In the far wall across from the entrance sits a well used fireplace, with a clock on the mantel, and two chairs, a stool, and a rocking chair next to it. There is a padded couch against to the window too, with a basket of mending next to it and an old sewing machine.

The Asset's eyes rest on the sewing machine for a moment, remembering how the book had said that his mother was a seamstress, before he glances over at the wall across from the window. Against it there is a writing desk with a cabinet above, the glass panes revealing a few books, binders, and prized possessions, while next to it sits a radio and a cabinet with a record player.

"We're home!" The Asset is shocked out of his analysis of the living room as holo-Bucky calls out, making his way through the living room to the door next to the radio. A voice from beyond the door calls out a reply, but the Asset is distracted from it because something strange is happening with the audio of the hologram. The volume of the voices seems to change with the way holo-Steve turns his head, and beside him, his handler blinks in surprise, lifting a hand up to brush his left ear.

"I went deaf in one ear after getting real sick one time," he explains softly, watching as the two boys make their way into the next room.

It's a kitchen, one the Asset can remember having seen before. He scans the room, taking in the bits and pieces that mesh with the brief flashes he had seen. The cast iron stove he can remember, a big hulking black thing sitting in the back of the room. Kitty corner to it is a sink, with a window looking out into the yard, and the boys quickly make their way around the wooden table in the middle of the room, heading for the sink to wash their hands. At the table, a woman stands, a blue apron over her dress and her hair up as she mixes something in a bowl, a small girl in a yellow dress sitting in the chair beside her.

"Hello boys," the woman says with a smile, looking up from her work. Her voice is warm, and the Asset finds himself captivated by it. She looks over at his holo-self, using her wrist to brush away a strand of hair from her face before nodding towards the windows. "Bucky, could you feed the chickens today? Becca is over at her friend's house."

His holo-self makes a face at the request, but moves over to grab a pail sitting between the sink and the back door. Holo-Steve follows as well, chatting lightly about something that had happened at school that day, squinting a little as they open the door. They step out easily into the yard, although, from what the Asset can tell, it isn't exactly a 'yard' by today's standards. The ground is cobblestone, the high walls of the worn fence making the place seem enclosed and shaded. Still, there is a garden running along the side wall, and a small shed sitting in the back, a clothesline leading from it to the house, and a washtub piled high with washboards and other equipment sitting next to it.

"Your Ma used to take in laundry," his handler says, his eyes on the scene as the two boys make their way to a wire pen in the far corner of the yard. "Sometimes we'd help her out after school." The corner of his mouth crooks up into a smile. "One time, we were trying to hang a sheet, but we accidentally knocked down the whole line, and we had to wash everything all over again."

The Asset nods, his eyes wide as he takes in the new information, watching as his holo-self takes care in feeding the two chickens in the pen – whom his handler informs him had been named Toast and Bacon. The names make him smile, and after the feeding, the boys return inside, to find Winnifred facing the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

"Can you take Hannah up with you while you do your homework?" She asks, throwing a glance at the boys as they come in. "I need to finish this before your father comes home."

The Asset's eyes widen as he realises that the little girl at the table must be Hannah, his long-lost sister, and he looks back at her, taking her in with greater appreciation. "We're probably about twelve in this," his handler tells him quietly. "So she's about four."

He nods mutely and watches as holo-Bucky moves over to Hannah, the little girl kicking her feet and smiling cheerily at him. "Com'on Hannah," holo-Bucky says, reaching out for her. "Let's go upstairs. You can play with my dominos if ya want."

For her part, Hannah huffs and shoves his arms away. "I can do it myself," she insists, before turning to painstakingly push herself off the chair, her face screwed up in concentration as her feet dangle a few inches off the ground.

Holo-Bucky grins at her and crouches down, pulling his arms back and hooking his fingers into claws. "Are you sure?" He teases. "Cuz I'm pretty sure a tickle monster's waitin' down here for you!"

Hannah lets out a shriek of delight and pushes herself the rest of the way to the floor, taking off like a shot towards the living room. Holo-Bucky is up and after her in an instant, laughing easily as he pretends to miss her, while gently herding her towards the stairs. Holo-Steve follows, his eyes bright as he sweeps up their bookbags by the door and pretends to fight holo-Bucky off long enough for Hannah to get a head start up the stairs.

She makes it to the top, before his holo-self catches up and sweeps her through an open door into a small bedroom, opening his arms to let her bounce down onto the narrow bed before diving down and tickling her sides.

Hannah shrieks in laughter, arching her back and kicking her legs as she wiggles to get away. Holo-Steve ducks into the room, a smile on his face as he makes his way passed the dresser to the desk by the window and bed, depositing their bags and sitting down to watch the two siblings.

Eventually Hannah gives in and gasps to be let up, unable to take any more. Holo-Bucky sits back, breathing a little heavily from their play and pushing his hair out of his eyes, a smile on his face. After a moment to catch his breath, he slides off the bed and reaches under it to pull out a thin ragged cardboard box. "Here," he says, motioning for Hannah to come down onto the floor and tugging a little at his shirt to straighten it out. "You can play with these while Stevie and I do our work."

Hannah accepts, coming down to open the box, revealing a set of neatly stacked dominos. She dumps them out as she settles, and the scene fades out as holo-Bucky turns back to holo-Steve, standing up to reach for his book bag.

"That was when she was younger," his handler says as he takes off the glasses and turns to look at him, his voice feeling loud after everything they had just seen. "You were about nine when she was born," he continues. "She was sixteen when we left for war."

The Asset watches the fading scene until the very last moment before turning to look at his handler, eyes wide at what he had just seen. The holo-Bucky is practically an entirely different person than him. He had been so carefree in the memory. It had been strange to watch, but he can tell just by looking that there is no way he had been the Asset back then. Holo-Bucky had never gone through any of the training he had gone through. Hannah and the rest of his family really had been his family back then, and he'd just been… Bucky.

"Can you show me?" he asks, his voice rasping in his throat and his hands shaking slightly as he rubs them on his pants. "Hannah," he clarifies. "When she was…" He trails off and looks at his handler, suddenly pressed with the overwhelming need to know as much as he can about this family that had apparently been his, and had been taken away.

His handler nods silently, his eyes flicking over him before he turns and puts on the glasses again, closing his eyes for a moment as he pulls up the memory he wants. The holograms flicker on again, and the living room shimmers into view, holo-Steve sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace, next to a man holding a newspaper. It's nighttime this time, the lit fireplace and a lamp on the writing desk casting a warm glow over the room. Time has passed since the last memory, reflected in the new drapes by the window and the rag rug on the floor. His holo-handler is older too, although still thin and bony, and he leans forward in conversation with the man— who the Asset abruptly realises must be George Barnes.

"I heard on the radio this morning that tomorrow they're gonna be launching the USS New Jersey," holo-Steve says, George lowering his newspaper to look at him in interest. "It's the largest battleship we've built yet, and of course they're launching it on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor—"

"Ah!" A voice, Winnifred's, calls from the kitchen, both men turning towards the doorway as the woman herself appears, dressed in the same blue apron as before, a few extra patches on it now. "No war-talk at my Sunday table," she says, waving a finger at holo-Steve. "Steven Rogers, you know better."

A laugh sounds from behind her and the Asset perks up as his holo-self comes into view from behind his mother, almost a good head taller than her now. "Ah, Steve," he teases, leaning through the doorway. "You know you're in trouble when she starts usin' full names."

Winnifred clucks and shoos him away. "Go call your sisters," she says. "Supper's almost ready." Holo-Bucky laughs again and moves to head through the living room, towards the stairs.

"Your parents invited us over for supper every Sunday," his handler explains, his gaze slightly wishful as he watches the scene. "We were living in our own apartment by then, and Becca was already married, but Alice and Hannah lived at home." He huffs out a quiet breath. "Hannah was real keen on you moving out," he says. "It meant she could move into your room and stop sharing with Alice. The three girls used to have to share one room together, you know. I can still remember the squabbles."

"Com'on girls!" Holo-Bucky calls up the stairs, drawing the Asset back to the scene. Across from holo-Steve, George shakes his head and rolls his eyes, turning back to his newspaper, looking vaguely amused at holo-Bucky's choice not to simply climb the steps and get his sisters that way. "There's no point in makin' yourselves prettier," holo-Bucky continues. "It's just us."

Footsteps sound from above and a door swings open. "I'm sure you spent just as long in front of the mirror, Bucky Barnes!" A woman calls down, before descending the stairs and coming into the light. Her hair is too dark to be Hannah's, and she has a small engagement ring on her finger, causing the Asset to guess her to be Alice, his second sister. She's wearing a dark coloured dress, although, with Handler-Steve's colourblindness it's hard to tell what colour it is. It sways around her legs as she comes down, and as she approaches, holo-Bucky sweeps into a teasing bow.

"Oh, I could never hope to match your abilities," he says with a crooked smile. His sister huffs good naturedly at his antics but accepts his hand graciously as she steps down from the stairs and moves into the living room. A moment later, holo-Bucky looks up, and his eyes widen as he catches sight of another person on the stairs.

"Well, look at'you," he says, a note of awe in his voice as Hannah steps down towards him, her hair pinned up on her head. Holo-Bucky steps closer, offering his hand again. "You see this Steve," he says incredulously, waving his free arm as he looks over at holo-Steve. "My little sister thinks she can go and grow up on me."

Hannah rolls her eyes as she accepts holo-Bucky's hand, only to gasp as he takes her arm and spins her around, dancing her across the room. A surprised laugh bursts out of her as her dress flairs out and she grabs onto holo-Bucky's arms in an attempt not to fall.

"Ya sure you ain't seeing anyone?" Holo-Bucky asks as he stops and sweeps her down into a dip. "If ya 're then I think I might hafta have some words with him first." Hannah giggles and untangles herself with as much dignity as possible, patting her hair carefully as she stands upright.

"Oh lay off, Buck," she says, her eyes glittering in the firelight. "I don't need you scarin' people off when I could do it myself if I wanted to."

Holo-Bucky lets out a pleased laugh and moves to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Ya sure could, kid," he says as he begins to lead her towards the kitchens. "But you gotta promise to save a bit for me after, kay?"

Hannah's laughing reply fills the room as the rest of the family stands up to head to the kitchen and the scene begins to fade out. The Asset watches it go a little wistfully. The warmth of the memory had almost been palpable, and it's hard to believe that that had really been him having a grand time teasing and playing with his family. That had used to be him, he'd used to be like that, confident and happy, and now he can hardly even imagine being that way.

"Bucky?" His handler asks quietly, taking off his glasses. "You alright?"

The Asset nods, his eyes still on the empty space where the hologram had been. "Yeah," he says, his voice echoing in the room. "Yeah I just… have a lot to think about."

oOo

His handler takes him back to their room, faint lines of worry on his face as he tells him to take his time with everything and to ask him if he has any questions. The Asset nods at him and then buries himself in his journals, pouring over the few memories he has of his family, before writing down what he knows now and trying to reorganise what he can remember.

With this significant, most important puzzle piece, he can understand the process of his life a bit better now, but it's still— but it's still hard to fathom. He believes it. It makes sense… but he has no idea what to do with the information now.

His handler says not to rush himself, and the look in his eyes gives the Asset the impression that his handler also isn't exactly sure where to go from here. The sentiment isn't exactly comforting, and the Asset spends a long time just looking at the book that had started this all, not quite ready to open it again. Eventually nighttime falls and he sets it aside on his dresser before making up his bed in automatic motions, falling back on the familiar routine and trying to shut out his racing thoughts for a little while.

He supposes maybe he should have expected the nightmare, after learning the full magnitude of what Hydra had done to him.


He finds himself standing in a large grey room, the edges of it blurring into darkness as he looks around. A clunk of engaging machinery echoes through the room and he flinches, whirling around to find a spotlight casting imposing shadows over the sudden presence of his recalibration chair.

His breath catches and he stumbles back a step, his shoulders suddenly coming into contact with a wall of cold glass behind him. He shivers and tries to edge away, his heart pounding and his eyes pinned on the chair as if it might suddenly spring up and bite him.

"Asset."

He flinches again, his head snapping to the side to see Pierce coming out of the shadows, wearing his usual unflappable expression and impeccable suit. Pierce rocks on the balls of his feet and puts his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he looks him over. "It's time for your maintenance," he says, his eyes dead as he nods over towards the chair. "You're starting to malfunction."

The Asset shakes his head frantically, pressing his hands into the glass behind him as he tries to work past the lump in his throat. "No," he gets out, his voice thin. "No, please. I don't want to."

Pierce's face twists into a scowl and he takes a menacing step forward, the shadows shifting on his face. "You will do as you're told," he says darkly, the light glinting off his eye. "Now."

The Asset shakes his head again, trying to edge away without taking his eyes off his former handler, the presence of his chair a few feet away nagging unpleasantly at his brain. Pierce tilts his head at him for a second before suddenly sitting back and shrugging his shoulders, a cruel smile flashing across his face.

"Alright then," he hisses, the sound causing dread to pool in the Asset's stomach as Pierce turns to look into the void of space behind him. The Asset follows his gaze into the darkness and the sounds of a struggle reaches his ears, somebody's feet scuffling across the floor as they resist getting dragged forward.

A thin wheezing sounds in his ears, and the Asset's own breath stalls as, into the light, he sees his handler being dragged forward, his arms caught between two masked guards. He's struggling, but he isn't big anymore.

He's small again – his head only coming up to the guard's shoulders – and he's fighting a loosing battle. His eyes are wide with fear and his chest heaves visibly as the guards jerk him towards the chair. The Asset finds himself lurching forward, almost without a thought, his arm outstretched, and his mouth open in a wordless cry as he realises what is about to happen.

He hits another sheet of glass, a desperate cry ripping from his throat as he pounds on it, unable to do anything but watch as his handler gets dragged closer and closer to the chair. "Leave him alone!" He screams, his voice cracking as he presses his hands into the glass and the guards start trying to wrestle Handler-Steve into the clamps.

"We need a super soldier," Pierce breathes from behind him, the hair on the Asset's neck standing on end at the acid in his voice. "It doesn't have to be you."

The Asset whips around to face him, his heart pounding loud in his ears as he hears the first clamp engage. "Stop," he begs, his chest tight and his mind frantic. "Leave him alone."

Pierce smiles at him, his eyes flashing viciously. "You know what you need to do," he says, spite creeping into his voice as he tilts his head behind him. The Asset looks up to find another chair appearing, the unforgiving metal of its clamps glinting harshly under a new white spotlight.

Horror drops into his stomach as he realises what Pierce wants, but behind him, Steve lets out a muffled cry and the Asset finds himself taking a jerky step forward, his heart straining in his chest and his stomach swimming with dread as he stumbles towards the chair. Pierce watches him with poorly concealed glee, and the sounds from behind the glass fade as the Asset steps towards the chair.

He tries to breathe in, and there's suddenly something claustrophobic and suffocating over his face cutting off his air. His breath catches and his hand comes up to claw at his cheek, panic building up and straining in his chest. His mask, the one he'd used to wear, peels off from over his mouth and tumbles to the floor, collapsing into dust as he comes to stand in front of the chair, his chest heaving.

"You need to be maintained, Asset," Pierce spits, and the Asset takes in a shaky breath, nausea swirling in his stomach as he reluctantly turns around, the skin of his arm practically flinching and drawing back by itself as he eases into the metal chair. He doesn't have a guard in his mouth, but he feels like he's choking anyway, his pulse pounding as Pierce steps closer to the chair.

The clamps engage all at once, and the Asset flinches, his breath catching raggedly as he's held down and the chair reclines. Pierce leans closer to him, his face deathly pale in the harsh light, and the Asset closes his eyes, not even trying to slow his breaths as he waits for the machine to activate.

"Well done," he hears Pierce say, the words sending shivers down the Asset's spine as he hears him move to reach for the controls, ready to fry everything he'd learned out of his brain once again. The Asset clenches his teeth and squeezes his closed eyes tighter, trying to remind himself of his handler trapped in the other room. His hands dig into the arms of the chair as the headpieces whirl around him and he breathes in sharply through his nose, his whole-body tensing as a shrill hum fills the air.

The hum cuts off abruptly with a crash and a shrill shrieking of metal, and the Asset jerks his eyes open, his breath catching as the chair vibrates under him. His gaze darts up, and standing above him – his face furled in concentration as he pulls away the headpieces of the chair – is the gloriously furious face of his handler.

He's big again, his eyes narrowed as he stands over the Asset and reaches down to tear away the clamps with his bare hands. The Asset watches dumbfounded as the metal bends to his will and his handler reaches towards him, pulling him dazedly from the chair.

The world sways slightly as the Asset takes in a breath and stares at his handler, his mind still not quite caught up to the fact that he's here, and that the chair is destroyed.

"Asset!" The word is barked from across the room and he flinches, turning from his handler to see Pierce standing back from the chair, an infuriated expression on his face. "Asset!" He snarls again, nearly foaming at the mouth in his rage. "Sit down!"

Something solid grips his arm, and the Asset looks down to see his handler holding on to his forearm, supporting him as he narrows his eyes in a determined glare at Pierce. The Asset stares at him for a moment, his heartbeat seeming to slow – along with his racing thoughts – as his handler steadies him.

He breathes in again and looks back over at the seething Pierce, his jaw tightening as he raises his chin. "My name…" he says. "Is Bucky."


The Asset snaps awake, sucking in one giant breath before trying to quiet himself, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he tries to process the dream. He can still almost feel his handler's grip on his arm, and he rubs at the spot, as he tries to come to terms with the rest of what had happened.

My name is Bucky, he'd said.


AN: So Bucky continues to deal with the aftermath of being a person and having things like a past and a family (and that most of them are dead.) I really liked the scene where Steve showed Bucky his family, since he got to see himself like he was before Hydra – but of course, that is a little bit of a double-edged sword for him right now.

The nightmare creeps me out, even though I wrote the thing, but I really like it. As you can tell, Bucky is still in the process of shedding 'the Asset', but he's getting there.