The names are important. He knows they are, he just hasn't had much time to actually think about it while dealing with the waves of all his other realisations lately. He'd thought about names before though, because he seems to have a lot of them.

His handler calls him Bucky or Buck, most of the time, and now at least he knows why. Apparently, he'd used to be called that by everyone he'd been close to, although he still isn't sure how that name had come from James Buchanan Barnes.

James is another name he has, although nobody has called him by it yet, so it doesn't exactly mean a lot to him right now.

As for Barnes… Stark calls him that one a lot of the time, and the other Avengers do too sometimes, although they don't seem to mind using Bucky either. Barnes gives way to Sergeant Barnes, which… he supposes must have been his rank, when he had gone to war. The name is ruined now, but it is at least nice to know where it had come from.

He has other names too though, including Soldier and Asset. He's been calling himself the Asset because that had been the title given to him by Hydra when he had been transferred to America, and he hadn't had another name to use because he hadn't been a person.

Except he is a person. And he has a name.

And JARVIS had once asked him what he wanted to be called and he hadn't known how to answer. He still doesn't know, exactly. He isn't used to thinking of Bucky as his name. He'd been thinking of it as Handler-Steve's title for him, since his handlers seem to shuffle through various titles like Sergeant, Soldier, and Asset. He'd thought Bucky was another name like the Asset, but that is completely false.

Bucky is nothing like the Asset.

He can remember, a long time ago, he'd gone through a similar dilemma, agonising over whether or not he'd be allowed to call Handler-Steve by his first name, rather than as Handler-Rogers. The instance seems almost laughable now. Not only is he certain now that Handler-Steve wouldn't have gotten mad at him at all, but he isn't even his handler.

And that offers another dilemma. What does he call Handler-Steve now?

The easy answer is just to call him Steve, and the easy answer to his own name dilemma is to just call himself Bucky… But there's a whole host of implications that go along with that. No longer is he afraid that he will be punished for what name he chooses. No. He'd accidentally used his handler's first name before, and nothing bad had happened, and he'd obviously used it before he'd become the Asset…

And that's just it, isn't it? The symbol of the names Bucky and Steve. If he starts using them, it means he's letting go of being the Asset, it means he's going to somehow try to be this Bucky that he can barely remember. This Bucky that he hasn't been in a long time.

He doesn't know how to be Bucky. He doesn't know how to be without a handler. He doesn't know what Handler-Steve wants. His handler had been his handler for so long — but apparently he'd been his friend for longer, and he doesn't know what his handler expects anymore.

Handler-Steve knows now, that he remembers his life and his family – maybe not by much – but enough. If he expects something to come from that… He… he wants to make his handler happy, and he doesn't think that that's just the programming talking. He had been friends with his handler before, and— and he doesn't want to lose whatever he has with his handler now… But he can't help being afraid that he will somehow fail at being Bucky Barnes.

All the rules that he'd come to settle into in the Tower are suddenly up in the air again. He'd grown used to his handler's gentle manner, and his training with the other Avengers, and the few expectations placed on him, but he doesn't know what to expect now. His handler had said to take things slow, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to act anymore. He'd known what to do as the Asset, but he's a person now, and people… don't act like the Asset.

He gets up for breakfast and he spends the entire time anxious that maybe his handler expects him to make his own food all the time now, because that's what people do. He goes for a walk with Banner and he spends the whole time wondering if the man now wants him to choose where they walk, rather than following along passively because that's what people do. He sits quietly with his handler after supper, unable to keep from worrying that his handler wants him to strike up a conversation like he would have Before, because that's what he used to do.

(Of course, his handler makes him food like usual, and Banner doesn't seem annoyed by being the one to lead, and his handler seems perfectly happy to sit in silence, the day goes by normally.) He just… doesn't know the rules anymore.

And… and, a deeper, growing part of himself is annoyed that he is even looking for rules. There aren't rules anymore, because he is not the Asset, and his handler isn't his handler, and— and even if there are rules that he doesn't know about, he shouldn't be afraid anymore, because he isn't the Asset, and he isn't going to be punished. People can't just hurt him anymore. He can do whatever he wants — if he could just work up the courage and do it.

Of course, it doesn't actually feel like he can do whatever he wants. Even the thought of it makes him anxious, and he spends too long arguing with himself over it. He now knows that he hadn't been the Asset for forever, and that the rules he had lived under with Hydra had been wrong… but just because he knows he's supposed to be able to do things like everybody else… doesn't actually mean he feels safe doing so, no matter how much he may want to.

His handler can tell something is wrong. He can feel him watching him after supper, and he feels a little bad about his tense mood, but he can't seem to stop his brooding. Nearly every thought he has seems to be linked to his life as the Asset, and everything seems to circle back to how little he knows about himself. He sits, scowling on the couch, battling with himself because technically he doesn't need to feel bad, he doesn't have an obligation to be anything for his handler, so he shouldn't be worried about the acceptability of his actions.

He gives up on that after a while. Behind him, his handler seems to be dealing with his feelings by cleaning out the fridge, his face briefly twisting into a scowl at the cold, before he seemingly pushes past it, probably in an effort to have something productive to do.

The Asset finds that even that small choice digs at him. The Asset doesn't have anything productive to do, and while he could go down to the gym, or leave the Tower or… or just go anywhere… he still can't. Because he never goes places by himself, and his frustration at himself and his trained habits boils up until he shoves himself up from the couch and begins pacing the room in a half-hearted perimeter check.

Eventually his handler pauses his cleaning, his eyes tracking him warily. "Are you alright?" He asks finally, the worry on his face grating rather than comforting, like it usually is.

"I'm fine," the Asset actually snaps back at him, trying not to glare, because it isn't his handler's fault that he's trapped between two mindsets and doesn't know what to do. His handler looks a little shocked at his outburst and he instantly feels bad for his sharp temper, his shoulders hunching defensively before he retreats hastily to the bathroom with the excuse of taking a shower.

At least in the bathroom he can have a little privacy, away from his handler and the reminders that he isn't Bucky right now because he doesn't know how, and that even his desire to be like Bucky is more Asset and Mission related than he would like.

(He spends the next ten minutes quietly hyperventilating by the far wall of the bathroom and cursing himself because today isn't a Shower Day and he's never taken the initiative on taking a shower by himself before— but at the same time, he shouldn't have to, and his mind can't seem to get that.)

The shower, once he convinces himself to actually start it, is at least relaxing, and he probably would have stayed in it all night… if he didn't feel vaguely nauseated at the idea of taking longer than he's supposed to. He turns the water off bitterly, and sits stubbornly in the tub until his thoughts slow down a little and he feels ready to go outside again.

He sweeps the room for his handler as he exits the bathroom, the living room dim now that night has fallen, and he comes up short when he realises that his handler's door is closed – for only the second time since he'd arrived at the Tower. He stares at it for a while, a part of him relieved for the relative privacy that the gesture offers, and a part of him quietly stressing over the possibility that his handler is angry with him.

He shoves the thought away and reminds himself sharply that even if his handler is angry with him, he still won't punish him because— because.

oOo

The second day after finding the book, and he still hasn't tried to read more of it. It sits on top of his drawer, staring at him, waiting for him to open it. He doesn't.

A part of him wants to. A part of him is almost desperate for it, the continuous need to know as much about himself and what he'd lost cycling over and over in his brain. The thought of opening it also seems to paralyse him though. He knows he still can't fully understand the magnitude of what has happened to him — he's still trying to process the fact that he is a person and has always been one — it's hard to think about the thing Hydra had turned him into, and he isn't sure he's ready to dig up the pieces of who he'd used to be, just to mourn them.

But he can't stay in limbo forever. The strain is too much. He needs to figure out what he's doing and what he wants to do, before it tears his mind apart. (A part of him feels like laughing dryly at his difficulty because he can still remember the time when a dilemma of this proportion would have shut him down and sent him spiralling back into his programming. Now he can't even fall back on his programming because he doesn't want to. It isn't helpful anymore.)

He doesn't know how long he would have stayed stuck in the middle, unable to dig himself out of the hole that Hydra had shoved him into, if Romanoff hadn't showed up at his door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Let's go spar," she says, her stance solid as she stares him down.

Today isn't a normal sparring day, and he wars with himself as he looks her over, a hissing angry part of himself wanting to refuse, just to prove that he can, just to see what she would do. Another part of him feels ashamed because he's pretty sure Romanoff would actually listen to him if he said no, and he actually has nothing else to do, and no reason to refuse.

He finally nods jerkily at her, stepping out stiffly and turning to follow her down to the elevator, standing silently as they wait for JARVIS to take them down, and trying to calm himself a little. He's not actually mad at anyone, he's just… angry. And angry that he's angry (and a very small part of him that is still fully trained keeps rising up and reprimanding him for being angry at his handlers and that just makes everything worse.)

JARVIS lets them off the elevator and they head into the gym, cycling through a few stretches before going to the mat and getting into sparring stances. The Asset does his best to stay focused only on the match, without letting his thoughts distract him, but he seems to be doing a poor job of it.

Romanoff seems particularly tricky today, and he finds his back hitting the mat over and over, his irritation rising as he can't seem to even fight properly, the very thing Hydra had trained him for. He growls as Romanoff knocks him down again, and he shoves himself up, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

He is not, at least, in a blind rage. He does not launch himself at Romanoff, swinging his fists wildly on the off chance that it will help, instead he raises his fists again and looks her over, breathing heavily as they circle each other, each with their own calculating look in their eyes.

"So, you seem tense," Romanoff says, breaking the silence between them without throwing a single punch.

The Asset narrows his eyes but doesn't engage her either, since that generally doesn't end well. He grits his teeth and continues circling, trying to decide what he wants to say to Romanoff. Out of everyone in the Tower, she probably understands best what he's going through… but part of him doesn't want to bring it up, the idea of speaking about the storm in his mind frightening, like it would make everything too real.

"Steve's not saying anything again," Romanoff tells him, darting forward to throw three quick jabs, all of which he blocks, before she backs off again. "Is it your missions again?" She looks him over, something in her eye making it seem as though she already knowns her guess is wrong.

He flexes his jaw and shakes his head, finding himself looking at Romanoff's fists instead of her face. It is probably the perfect time for her to strike, but she doesn't, instead continuing to circle him in silence as he tries to figure out what he wants to say.

"I… don't know what to do. Now," he admits finally, his voice quiet, the anger in his chest simmering into something closer to dejection. He flickers his gaze up to Romanoff for a second before dropping his eyes again. Romanoff stays silent, mirroring his movements as they circle the mat, her eyes never leaving his face.

He sucks in a breath and rolls his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension running through his body. He clenches his teeth. "I…" His eyes jump up again. "I… used to be Bucky," he says, his voice hushed, his chest tightening slightly at his admission. "But I didn't remember, but now I almost do, but I don't know how to not be the Asset— but I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

He grits his teeth, frustration bubbling up in his chest again while Romanoff watches him silently. "What do you mean?" She asks, the look in her eyes telling him the question is more for his benefit than hers.

He lets out a sharp breath and clenches his fists, never stopping his circling, even though they aren't really sparring anymore. "The Asset is supposed to follow missions," he explains tightly, his eyes on Romanoff. "Bucky is not." He presses his lips together. "Handler-Steve… I don't know what he wants anymore." The words seem to hollow out his chest as he speaks, and he breathes in roughly. "Bucky's not supposed to have missions anymore, but I want—"

I want Handler-Steve to be happy, he thinks frustratedly. And I can't do that if I don't know what he wants. "But I don't know how to be Bucky," he finishes finally, looking up at Romanoff to see if she can make sense of the mess he'd just given her.

In front of him, Romanoff presses her lips together for a moment, before dropping her arms and stepping out of her stance, her eyes searching as she looks over him. He drops out of his stance too, standing still as he looks at her, waiting for her verdict. Finally, Romanoff lets out a quiet sigh and crosses her arms. "You two need to talk to each other," she says, and the Asset blinks at her in surprise.

The corner of Romanoff's mouth quirks up slightly and she shifts the weight on her hips. "You're busy tearing yourself up because you don't think you're Bucky, but you think that's what Steve wants, right?" She says, her voice making it plain that she knows the answer to that question. The Asset nods anyways, a little stunned, and Romanoff nods back at him, her eyes softening. "I don't think you need to worry about that," she says softly.

He stares at her a little incredulously and she huffs out a breath at him. "Look," she says gently. "You're already a lot more Bucky than you are the Asset." She looks amused by his doubtful expression but continues before he can say anything. "And…" She gives him a serious look. "Steve's already proven that he doesn't care if you're Bucky or the Asset. I think, if you had never remembered anything, he would have kept on being your handler for as long as you needed him to…" She offers him a small smile. "So you don't have to worry about him leaving you out in the cold now that things are changing."

She lets him sit in silence for a moment, before rolling her shoulders and dropping her arms. "You just need to figure out what you want," she says, tilting her head at him, a knowing smile on her face. "Don't worry about Steve. And talk to him. Communication is a thing, you know."

The Asset huffs at her, mostly because he's pretty sure she's right, before dropping back down into a sparring stance. Romanoff copies him, and they fall back into a smooth and comforting routine of blocks and punches, their bouts calmer now that the Asset has something else to think over.

oOo

He gets back to his handler's room, sore, but feeling more collected than he had been before. Romanoff's instruction to talk with his handler echoes in his mind as he steps inside, and noise from the kitchen lets him know that his handler is home and busy inside. He takes in a breath and squares his shoulders, letting the typical unease at confronting his handler roll through him. He knows by now, that Handler-Steve won't react badly, because he isn't exactly his handler, but the learned behaviour is still a little hard to shake. It probably doesn't help that this conversation is difficult just in general.

Still, Romanoff is right, if he wants to get some peace in this, he's going to have to do something about his dilemma, and it's undeniable that his handler has a role in all of this, so he's going to have to talk to him.

He lets out a breath and begins to make his way down the hall towards the kitchen, the sounds of his handler guiding him until he comes into view. He's cleaning out the freezer today, and the Asset stands still to watch him for a moment. He's wearing his blue slippers to help protect his feet from the cold, but there's still a tightness to his mouth as he checks various items for their expiry dates that lets the Asset know that he's enduring the cold more than anything else.

His head darts up as the Asset takes another step forward to settle in one of the chairs nestled by the counter, and his handler's eyes flick over him, obviously aware that something is coming, since this is the first time the Asset has approached him since they had used the BARF tech together.

"Romanoff told me to talk to you," the Asset says by way of an opening, and his handler's mouth quirks up in amusement in response.

He huffs out an amiable breath. "Okay," he says, picking up a bag of frozen fruit and a few other miscellaneous items from the counter to put back in the freezer, before closing it and turning back to him, his full attention ready – even if he looks a little apprehensive for what their conversation might bring.

The Asset shifts a little uneasily on his chair, and part of him wishes that his handler had continued with his work, so he wouldn't have to look at him for the whole discussion. It can't be helped though, and he looks down at the counter, trying to figure out how to bring up his dilemma. He flicks his eyes up to his handler and back down again before gritting his teeth. He's just going to have to go for it.

He breathes in, his left hand tightening into a fist from where it rests on top of the counter. "I…" He looks up at his handler. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," he admits quickly, before pressing his lips together and looking away. His hand tightens on the counter. "I remember Bucky," he says, without turning his head. "I understand who he was but– but I don't know how to be him anymore. And I don't know what you want."

When he looks over at his handler, he is leaning against the counter behind him, his face carefully neutral is he listens, although his knuckles are white as they grip the counter next to him. He flicks his eyes over him for a moment, as if waiting to see if he has anything else to say, before dropping his gaze. "I… don't exactly have all the answers," he says quietly.

The Asset swallows and his handler looks up at him, letting out a sigh. "Look Buck–" He cuts himself off with a shrug. "This is something I've been wondering about for a while," he admits. "With how you've changed since coming to the Tower, I figured we'd probably come to a point like this… but I didn't want to rush it, I didn't want to push you into anything that you weren't ready for."

The Asset relaxes slightly at the reassurance that his handler doesn't seem intent on jumping blindly into whatever stage of development they have come to. "I didn't want to hold you back either," Handler-Steve continues, rubbing the back of his neck. "So I was just doing my best to go by what you seemed to need at the time." He catches his eye. "I know this is hard, Buck," he says quietly. "But we don't have to do anything that you don't want to do."

The Asset almost laughs at that, because a few months ago he would have been convinced that he didn't have wants. But now… he finds that part of what he wants is clouded by his concern over what his handler wants… and he doesn't think that concern has anything to do with his programming.

"I don't know what I want," he says, shifting to tap his metal fingers against the counter. "I don't—" He clenches his teeth and breathes in, his eyes meeting his handler's. "I don't know what to do," he says, something almost forlorn in his voice. "I used to be Bucky, but I don't know how to be that anymore." He shakes his head, looking down. "The man in the holograms, he— I don't know how to be a normal person, let alone be him for you."

"Be him for— Bucky." His handler gives an aborted lurch forward, before settling back onto the counter behind him. "Buck," he says, his gaze intense. "Listen, this is important." The Asset brings his gaze up and his handler's lips press together in determination. "Listen," he says again. "No one expects you to somehow become the man you used to be."

The Asset blinks at him and his handler shakes his head, continuing. "That would be impossible," he says. "No one can expect you to go through what you did and come out exactly the same." He lets out a quiet breath, something flickering in his eye. "Neither of us are the same people we were before, it wouldn't be fair to try to be."

The Asset breathes in, because he finds he hadn't been doing that very well, and keeps his gaze pinned on his handler, sucking in every word he says. "It isn't important what I want," he is saying, waving his hand. "I'm just glad you're alive Buck. I thought everyone I knew was dead when I woke up and— I just want you to be happy now." He swallows and braces himself against the counter. "And that might take a while to figure out," he says, his eyes dropping down slightly. He shrugs before bringing his eyes up to his again. You don't— There isn't some sort of goal here, Buck," he says quietly. "You don't have to try to be anything that you aren't, okay?"

The Asset finds his mouth slightly open, a little stunned as his handler's words basically reflect what Romanoff had been saying. "What if…" He swallows, ducking his head slightly. "I'm not very good… at being a person," he mumbles. "I still… it's still hard for me."

His handler huffs out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh. "Of course it is, Buck," he says, relaxing his grip on the counter. "You're working through 70 years of conditioning; you can't beat yourself up too badly for having difficulty." His eyes flick over him. "You don't have to make all your decisions now," he says. "It's a long road we're on and—" He shrugs his shoulders, looking down. "I want you to know that I'm with you on this." He looks up, his eyes bright and determined. "Till the end of the line, Buck."

The Asset finds the air stall in his lungs as his handler says the loaded phrase. "Things are gonna change," he continues quietly. "But that isn't bad. And they don't have to change faster than you want them to." He rolls his shoulders, sighing. "I want to help you, but… I don't want you to have to feel like you have to be a ghost for me, Bucky. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You don't even have to stay here, if you don't want to."

The Asset sucks in a breath through his nose and blinks at his handler. "What do you mean?" He asks, feeling a little stunned.

In front of him, his handler's mouth quirks up slightly, although he's looking a bit more apprehensive than before. "Well…" He breathes in. "Tony told me once, that he could get you your own room, if you wanted," he says. "And that offer is still open, I'm sure." His eyes flicker away to look around the room before coming back to him. "Also…" he starts slowly. "If you want to move out of the Tower completely… you can do that to."

The Asset stares, completely blindsided by the offer. He too can remember a time when Stark had offered him a room of his own, but never once had he considered moving out completely. "It's a big step," Handler-Steve continues, seemingly rushing to get the words out now. "And you don't have to, if you don't want to, but I can't really imagine what it's like, to live with—" He breathes in. "With your handler, while trying to figure out who you are, so…" He swallows. "If that's something you wanted then…"

It's obvious to the Asset, that the idea isn't something his handler wants, not exactly. But… but he's offering it anyways, because… because… The Asset blinks and he almost smiles as the last dredges of the raging storm in his mind finally begin to die away. He breathes in and looks up at— —

He… isn't his handler. Not really. He hadn't ever really been his handler, in anything but name, and he'd hated every moment of it. He hadn't wanted to be his handler, but he'd continued with it, even after they had broken off with Hydra, because that's what the Asset had needed at the time.

Now that he's caught a glimpse and understood what they'd used to be together, the Asset can't imagine how difficult that must have been for him. But he'd done it, and like Romanoff had said, he would have done it for as long as it was needed because… because he isn't his handler, he's his friend. And he's Steve.

The name doesn't seem so dangerous now, after everything. He'd been thinking of their names as some sort of doorway or bridge to a past life, and he'd thought somehow, that Hydra had burnt all those ties long ago, and that he would somehow disappoint his handl– Steve, if he'd tried to rebuild those ties.

But Handl– Steve had been calling him Bucky almost since the day they had taken Hydra down. His hand– Steve hadn't been holding the name over him, like some kind of prize to be gained after reaching some undefined level of Buckyness. He'd just… given it to him, because he didn't see him as the Asset or Bucky, no matter how much like one or the other he was. And Han– Steve obviously didn't hold some naïve hope that he would somehow magically transform back into the man he'd used to be. He wanted him like how he is now, because— I'm just glad you're alive he'd said.

"Oh," he breathes, his mind alight as he looks up at— at Steve. "I understand." His hand– Steve, looks up at him, slightly confused, and he quickly tries to pull up what they had been talking about. "I don't want to move out," he reassures, easing some of the lines on his ha– Steve's face. "Maybe my own room, later but—" He leans forward. "I just— have some questions now."

"Oh," Han– Steve's shoulders relax slightly. "Okay, sure."

He breathes in. "What—" He swallows. "Where did Bucky come from?" He asks. He's certain the book might tell him, but he wants to know right now, if he's going to claim the name. "The book says my name is James Buchanan Barnes," he says. "But everyone calls me Bucky. Why?"

His h– Steve lets out a surprised breath of air and a smile breaks over his face as he shakes his head and starts off on a story of five year old James, in a kindergarten class, with two other Jameses, one of them already 'James B'. "Your middle name and last name both start with B," he says, his eyes bright and animated. "So that wouldn't work. And Buchanan is hard to say and spell for five-year olds, so it very quickly got shortened to Buck and Bucky."

Across from him, Bucky sits back, and smiles.


AN: So Bucky has finally claimed his name! I liked this chapter because it starts to delve into the complicated nature of become a person again. Bucky's having to think of himself in a completely new way, and he isn't sure what is expected of him anymore. And a part of him is frustrated that he's having difficulty, even though that is completely understandable.