Readers: Aww, your story is almost over :(

Me: you fool. you absolute buffoon.

Bold of you to assume that I can stop myself from writing this story. this was supposed to be 20 chapters, now it is 40. I am a slave to the words. they are coming,,,, there will be a third part.


The scarf is wrapped around his neck, and the pile of binders sit on his lap as Steve drives them home. The ride is mostly silent, and Steve lets it stay that way, giving Bucky a chance to think over his visit. It had gone immeasurably better than he had been expecting. He hadn't really known what to expect to be honest, mostly he'd just been glad that Hannah had wanted to see him at all, and she—

She had given him so much. He'd been worried he wouldn't be Bucky enough for her, but she had managed to make him so comfortable. It probably helped that Steve had talked to her first, but she hadn't even seemed to be bothered by his arm.

He's certain that as their visits continue, Hannah will want to know more about him, and that he will have to share a little with her, but for now, she had been content to give him back a little of the life he had lost.

He blinks, and his eyes are wet as he stares out the window. He clutches the binders a little closer to himself.

oOo

He stores the binders reverently in his room, and goes through them thoroughly over the next few days, taking the time to read the letters saved inside, and read the captions for the few precious photos. He doesn't get a lot of flashbacks while reading the albums, but… they do seem to be doing something. Instead of flashbacks, he will often read something and then just… feel like he already knew it, like deja-vu.

He still hopes to be able to actually remember more, of course, but he keeps careful track of his progress in his journals as he goes through the albums Hannah had given him. Most of them are the earlier ones, from his childhood, but the last one is the one from when he and Steve had gone to war.

He finds himself staring at the page holding his draft letter. He knows what the draft is, of course, but he does wonder about how it had affected him. He hadn't wanted to tell Steve that he had been drafted, but he had obviously told his family…

His dad had been drafted too, he remembers. He wonders how his family would have felt with the same thing happening to him. He blinks and looks up from the binder, staring ahead of himself. No memories seem to be inclined to shake loose right now but… but he does have another option.

He hasn't really used the BARF tech much since erasing his trigger words. He'd used it that one time to figure out what had happened to Steve, but now… if he wants… he could use it to— to just know about himself. He likes being able to remember things by himself, but if he can't, and if he has a specific memory that he wants to explore… then the BARF tech is a pretty good tool.

He doesn't exactly know how to use it though, which is something he's going to have to fix.

He sighs and sets the album aside. Now that the idea is in his head, he knows he's not going to be able to let it go, so he might as well get on with it. "JARVIS?" He calls, looking up at the ceiling. "Is Stark available?"

He is, and he's in his lab, like usual, so Bucky gets up and makes his way down there, running his request through his head as he catches the elevator. He has already asked Stark once about using the BARF tech, and the man hadn't seemed to mind, so hopefully now he has time to teach him how to use it.

Stark is in the back of his labs when he gets there, holographic projections of some kind of building surrounding him in a glowing haze.

Bucky makes his way towards him and watches for a moment, marvelling as Stark spins the holograms around with ease, his brow furled as he changes around the floorplan. The outside of the building seems to have the Avengers symbol on it, although it doesn't really look like the Tower, and Bucky can't help wondering what the plans could be for.

He is unsure whether or not he should interrupt Stark, since the man seems to be in the zone, but the decision is taken out of his hands when DUM-E and U realise that he's here, and they squeal over to him, their claw arms waving with their usual excitement.

He smiles as he pauses to pat and greet them properly, and once he looks up again, Stark has noticed him too, the man sweeping the holograms off to the side as he turns to him.

"Hey Buck," he says. "Did ya need something?"

Bucky opens his mouth, but finds himself speechless, his brain stalled as he sits staring at Stark. DUM-E nudges him pointedly, and he moves to pet him automatically, still trying to process the fact that Stark had actually just called him by his name.

When had— when had that started?

Stark's eyes flick over him, and he realises abruptly that he's staying silent for too long, and he scrambles to remember what his original purpose in coming down here had been. "Um," he says eloquently, his hand still on DUM-E's claw. "Um, yeah. I was wondering— I was wondering if you could teach me how to use the BARF tech. On my own."

Stark blinks at his request, and– wait. Should he start calling Stark— Tony, by his first name too? Star– Tony had started it, so… so it's probably okay now, right? In front of him, Sta– Tony shrugs and folds his arms. "That shouldn't be a problem," he says. "It's not that complicated. I could show you right now, if you want?"

Bucky nods, still a little stunned at this recent development, and watches as St– Tony closes down his holograms, seemingly unconcerned by the whole name thing. He can't keep his eyes off the man as he gives DUM-E one last absentminded pat and turns to follow him towards the elevator.

"The BARF tech's pretty intuitive now that it's developed," St– Tony tells him as they ride up. "And you have JARVIS to help you if anything goes wrong."

Bucky nods gratefully and gets off after S–Tony, following him down to the BARF room. The lights flick on as they enter, illuminating the white room and the collection of computers in the corner. It isn't dusty, so someone must maintain it, and S– Tony leads them over to the computers, pressing a button to start up the monitor as he sits down.

"Okay, so this is just a basic computer," he starts, wiggling the mouse a little and looking over at him. "You know how to use these?"

"Yes," Bucky says, taking a seat next to Tony. "I— uh." His cheeks heat slightly. "I've been practising with the laptop you gave me. Thank you for that, by the way."

Tony waves off the thanks as though he's embarrassed by it. "Figured it was about time you got something like that," he says, looking away with a shrug. "They're pretty key to living in the 21st century now."

Bucky nods and lets the subject drop, listening as Tony begins to show him how to activate the BARF tech. "So this is the program here," he says, clicking on an icon and letting it load. "Then you just click 'new session'." He clicks on a green button at the top of the screen, and a loading bar appears. "Once it's ready, it will calibrate the glasses."

True to his word, a box pops up reading CALIBRATING… and they wait patiently as the glasses on the console light up a few times before the computer declares them ready. "Then you just activate the mics and cameras," Tony continues, showing him the appropriate buttons. "And you should be ready to go. Once you're finished, you just have to hit "End session', and shut everything down."

Tony shows him a few troubleshooting techniques and makes sure he's comfortable with everything before pushing himself away from the computers and standing up. "That's about it," he says. "You can always call in help if you need it." He rolls his shoulders and casts him a quick glance. "I'm guessing you don't need me here for this one?"

Bucky shakes his head. "You can go," he says. "Thank you." He thinks Tony looks a little relieved at that, and given some of the things the man has seen, Bucky doesn't exactly blame him. Tony gives him a little mock salute before turning to leave, and Bucky waits until the door is closed before he breathes in and reaches for the glasses.

Everything should be ready, so all he needs to do is stand up and think about the memory he wants to see. His stomach somersaults nervously as he prepares himself, and he breathes in again, trying to settle himself.

The glasses fit easily over his face and he stands up, stepping around the consoles and moving towards the middle of the room, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. "Okay," he says, and closes his eyes. He thinks of the drafting letter, and waits.

He opens his eyes to the sound of wind, and he sees his holo-self ducking his chin and pulling up his coat collar as he walks, kicking dirty slush off of his boots. Bucky remembers instantly the griminess of city winters, and the street around his holo-self reflects that, even the icicles hanging off the buildings looking a little grey.

It takes him a second, because of the snow, but he realises, as his holo-self shivers and continues down the street, that he recognises the landscape. It's the street his house is on. His suspicions are confirmed when his holo-self turns to walk up towards a familiar narrow house – and he can see now that it is brown naturally, not just because of Steve's colourblindness – and he watches his holo-self stomp his feet a few times on the steps before reaching for the front door.

He doesn't knock, instead turning the handle and going right it, announcing his arrival as he stomps his feet again on the mat inside. His cheeks are red from cold as he shuts the door and he sniffs, a smile breaking over his face as Ma Barnes appears in the living room, a look of surprise on her face.

"Bucky!" She says, smiling, her arms out as she comes towards him. "I didn't expect you today. Is everything alright? Steve's not sick now is he?"

His holo-self shakes his head and leans forward to accept a kiss on the cheek. "Nah," he says. "Steve's fine. I actually came by to talk to Pa if he's around." His mother still looks a little surprised by his request, but she doesn't ask many questions as she calls down his father and the two of them move to the kitchen for a more private conversation.

Bucky can't help watching George Barnes closely as the man sits down across from his holo-self at the wooden dinner table. He doesn't have many specific memories of the man, but his holo-self seems to be at ease around him.

"Now," George starts once they've settled in. "What was it you wanted to see me about? It's not Steve again, is it? Heaven knows winters are bad for him."

A brief smile flickers over holo-Bucky's face at his father's concern, but he seems to have taken on a more solemn mood now that Winnifred is in the other room. "No," he says softly, shifting slightly. "Actually, it's something else." He swallows once before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a letter.

It's already open and out of its envelope, and holo-Bucky unfolds it silently, turning it to face his father. ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION it reads, and Bucky realises abruptly that it's his draft letter. This must be when he had first gotten it.

Judging from his tight-lipped expression, his past-self hadn't exactly been overjoyed at the news. George Barnes doesn't look much better, and they sit in silence for a few moments, before the man swallows and clears his throat.

"When do you report in?" He asks.

Holo-Bucky's hands are clasped tight together under the table, his knuckles going white. "Two weeks from now," he says quietly. "January twenty-fifth." His eyes flick up for a second to look at his father, before glancing back down at the letter. "You… were drafted, weren't you?" He asks after a moment.

Bucky remembers the brown uniform in the back closet, and he also remembers how Pa hadn't spoken much about his military service. He was respectful, but he didn't talk about it.

He thinks that maybe his holo-self needs to talk about it now.

"Yes," George replies, his eyes flicking over his son. "Scared me to the bone, it did."

Holo-Bucky's head darts up in surprise and he opens his mouth. "Really?" He asks, something small and wavering in his voice. It's then that Bucky looks, really looks, and he knows instantly that his past-self hadn't wanted to go to war. If he had, then he would have enlisted when the whole thing had started. But he hadn't, instead he had tried to stay in New York and stay with Steve.

He can't help remembering how sick Steve had used to get, and how in just this scene, both of his parents had been worried after the health of his friend. He'd probably been terrified to leave Steve on his own. He'd probably been half-convinced that Steve would die by himself.

And then he managed to stubborn his way into the army and solve a bunch of problems and gain a dozen more, he thinks wryly as he watches his father shift in his seat across from his holo-self.

"'Course I was," George continues. "I had you and Winnifred to think of for one thing. I was temporarily deferred for a while, because I had dependents, but Winnifred could make enough to support the two of you if she had to, and she could stay with her parent's family, so eventually I got sent out." He gives holo-Bucky a sober look. "I knew we needed to fight," he says. "But you were only a few months old when I left, and I was terrified that I wouldn't make it back to you. That you'd never know me."

Across from him, holo-Bucky swallows and glances back down at the unassuming draft letter, his hands tightening even further under the table. "What do I do now?" He asks, his voice quiet, and small, almost forlorn.

George leans forward and holo-Bucky looks up. "You go," he says simply. "You don't got a choice about that. You go, but then you come back, ya hear?" He places his hand on the table between them. "You come back to us after this is all over, and things will be alright."

Holo-Bucky nods mutely, his eyes looking rather glassy, and Bucky finds his own eyes getting wet. You go and then you come back, his father had said. "I'm sorry," he whispers to the ghost of the man. "I tried. Came back a little late."

In front of him, holo-Bucky blinks his eyes clear and seems to pull himself together, breathing in. "I wanted to talk to you about Steve too," he says. "I know you'll keep an eye on him, but I know he's gonna get sick at some point. Especially if he has to push himself while I'm gone." George nods but holo-Bucky continues before he can say anything. "Also, I don't want you tellin' Steve I got drafted. I'm not gonna tell him. You know how he feels about the draft. If he hears I got pulled, I don't know what he's gonna do."

I do, thinks Bucky as he remembers how Hannah had said that Steve had started trying to enlist once he himself had joined up. The way she had spoken about it… it had made it seem as though Steve had stubbornly tried to enlist more than once… and while that wouldn't surprise him, that— that is illegal, right? One way or another?

The current BARF memory doesn't give him any answer for that, but instead continues to show him as he tucks his draft letter away and exits the kitchen to announce the news to the rest of his family.

Hannah covers her mouth in shock when she hears, and his mother wrings her hands, but no one appears overtly upset. Instead they seem more like they are all putting on brave faces for each other, and Bucky gets the impression that while joining the army is supposed to be an honour, his family had still been frightened for him.

Rightly so, he thinks, as he pulls off the glasses, letting the image fade out. He'd gone off to war, and then Steve had gone off to war, and then they had both died, never coming back in any way that mattered.

In fact, instead of coming back, he had been captured and forced to fight for the other side for seventy years, and he hadn't even wanted to join the army in the first place. It hadn't even been his choice to be there at all. He'd gone because it was his duty and because he'd had to, but he hadn't wanted to, and then Hydra had come in and forced him to keep fighting for seven more decades.

Was it ever my choice? He wonders despairingly, staring down at the glasses in his hand. They sit in his metal hand, the one that Hydra had given him, when they'd captured him in a war he had been obligated to fight in. Had any of it ever been his choice—?

He sits at the bar, separated from the rest of the group that Steve is talking to. He shakes his head when he remembers what Steve looks like now. He keeps forgetting, keeps turning around at the sound of his voice and getting confronted by his face a foot higher than where it's supposed to be. And how he'd gotten that way, the reason he'd transformed–

'A serum,' Steve had told him on their march back into Allied territory. 'Cured most things, turned me into this. They can't recreate it though. Had to argue my way out of a lab.'

He swallows heavily and presses his wrist into the counter, trying not to remember the needle pokes that had littered the underside not too long ago. Steve had confided in him, in the more solemn hours of the night, that a few too many doctors and officers had wanted to poke at him than had been comfortable, and Bucky had decided right then and there that no one needed to know he might have something similar running in his veins.

Steve might be able to make himself useful enough to avoid further study, but if the military had a spare

He breathes in, because he's managing to make himself panic a little, and he takes a sip of his drink, wondering if he's alcohol resistant like Steve is now. That would suck. Steve had at least sort of chosen that – in his stubborn, fool headed way – but he had in no way signed up to be sober for the rest of his life.

He hears laughing and he looks up, the men around Steve are smiling, meaning he must have convinced them to join him on his hunt for Hydra. Despite everything, he can't help smiling at that. Steve had told him what he had wanted to do, and he'd known immediately that he would manage it. Even when he was small, Steve could talk his way in and out of things – he had to if he didn't want a bloody nose every week – and now that he's bigger, he almost fills rooms all by himself. People want to follow him now, he looks at them, and he sees them, and people find themselves saluting back.

He lets out a chuckle and lifts his drink as Steve comes towards him. "See?" He says. "I told you. They're all idiots."

Steve gives him half a smile at that and comes over to sit next to him at the counter. "How 'bout you?" He asks. "You ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?" His voice lilts on the title, mocking it slightly, and Bucky knows why. Captain America is the military's new favourite man, but he isn't real. Steve will use him to get where he wants to go, but there's a lot more under the mask than some people care to see.

He isn't using Captain America now though. He jokes about it, bringing up the reason a lot of other soldiers will follow him, to cover for the seriousness of his question, his eyes betraying his desire for an honest answer.

And he really is asking, not just for show.

'A lot of men are getting honorable discharges,' Steve had told him while he had been recovering back at camp, something deep and searching in his eyes. 'You'd get approved if you requested one.'

He hadn't requested one.

Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?

Not him, no. But— "That little guy from Brooklyn," he says. "Who was too dumb, not to run away from a fight." He looks over at Steve. "I'm following him."

Steve's eyes flicker something like gratitude, before he looks away, the side of his mouth pulling up slightly. Bucky nods and takes a sip of his drink. Going home without Steve is not an option, but this time, staying will be his choice.

That makes him feel a little better and his mouth quirks up as he gets ready to tease away the heavy atmosphere. "You're keeping the outfit though, right?" He asks, and Steve immediately rolls his eyes heavenwards—

Bucky blinks and stands still as he processes his most recent flashback. It had been detailed enough that he can pretty confidently place it in his mental timeline of events, and he takes a step back, moving to shut off the BARF tech so that he can go up to his room and write down what he had just seen.

The flashback seems to reflect a lot of what he had been feeling and he mulls it over as he starts to make his way back to his room. It must have been just after Steve had rescued him from Hydra for the first time. He has a bit of a better idea now why he had never told Steve about his serum – since he seemed intent on keeping it hidden from everyone – and the memory of Steve offering an honourable discharge…

Steve knew I was drafted, he remembers as he opens the door to his room and steps in, making his way to his desk and pulling out his journal. He must have known I didn't want to fight.

Which brings him to Steve's offer in the flashback. It's clear now that Steve had been busy organising the Howling Commandos so that he could go hunt down Hydra, and he'd offered him a place on the team… but it had truly been an offer, if Bucky had said no, then Steve would have accepted that and probably would have then tried to send him home.

He had said yes though.

He'd been wondering if anything from the past seventy-years had been his choice… and it had. For one shining moment at least, and he can't help the relief he feels at that knowledge. He doubts he could have ever gone home without Steve, but at least he knows that he had followed Steve by choice.

Judging from Steve's expression during the flashback, that fact had been pretty important to him too.

"We worked together Buck." He remembers Steve telling him once, as he begins to write out what he had seen on a fresh page. We were a team," Steve had said. "Like I am with the Avengers now. You followed me because you trusted me, not because you were afraid I'd hurt you if you didn't."

The sentiment makes sense to him now. It had been a bit confusing to him when Steve had first said it, because he had still been used to thinking of himself as the Asset, but of course Steve would have worked together with him. He wouldn't have wanted a tool like Hydra had wanted. He was very careful to ask each member of his team because he only wanted people who wanted to be there—

His brain happily makes another connection for him, and he freezes over his journal, his eyes wide. Of course, he thinks. Of course, how had he not seen— "That's what he wants isn't it?" He says dazedly. "That's the answer."

oOo

He has to wait until the next day to actually do anything about his realisation, but it buzzes noisily in the back of his mind as he makes his way to Steve's room. He knocks, and once he enters, he finds Steve on the couch, his sketchbook on his lap and his phone propped up on the coffee table in front of him as he follows some kind of online tutorial.

"Hey Buck," he says, reaching forward to pause the video. "What's up?"

Bucky tugs on the fabric of his pants in a nervous habit and makes his way around the couch to sit on Steve's other side. "I figured it out," he says, catching his eye. "I figured out the reason you didn't want me to go on missions.

I think, Steve had told him once, months ago. That once you understand why I don't want you going now, then you'll be able to go on missions. If you want.

At the time, Bucky had thought that he needed to figure out some sort of complicated mystery before he would be allowed on missions. But reality is much simpler, Steve had practically given him the answer all by himself.

It takes a second for Steve to remember what he's referring to, but he sees the moment recognition lights up in his eyes.

"You wanted to make sure I was going on missions because I wanted to," Bucky continues as Steve sets down his drawing pencil. "Realising I wasn't the Asset was part of that, but you wanted to make sure I was following you because I wanted to. Not just because you were my handler."

Next to him, Steve nods. "Yeah," he says roughly, before clearing his throat. "Fighting for Hydra had never been your choice, and I knew that going to war really hadn't been your choice either. I didn't want you going on missions out of some misplaced, implanted, twisted, sense of duty."

Bucky nods slowly as he digests this, and Steve shrugs looking down at his sketchbook. "I felt guilty enough anyways," he says, his wry tone not doing much to hide the self-deprecating note in his voice. "You wouldn't have gotten captured by Hydra if you hadn't been following me in my fight against them."

Bucky scowls and leans forward immediately, prompting Steve to look up at him. He can't have Steve twisting the narrative and blaming himself because– "It was my choice," he says severely. That was important. He hadn't had many choices about fighting, but that had been one choice that had been his.

Steve's mouth twitches and he has the decency to look a little cowed. "That's what Peggy said," he says. "After you died."

Bucky lets out a breath and leans back, giving Steve a sharp nod. "Yeah well, she sounds smart. You should listen to her sometime."

Steve's mouth turns into a crooked smile at that, and he huffs out a laugh, twirling his pencil. "You're right," he says, looking up at him. "I know that." His eyes glance over him and he sets the pencil down again. "So… do you?"

Bucky blinks. "Do I what?"

Steve's gaze is steady when he looks at him. "Do you want to go on missions now?"

Somehow, he hadn't thought about that, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to come up with an answer. "I don't know," he says finally.


AN: So Bucky noticed Tony was calling him by his name! And he was able to ask him to show him how to use the BARF tech so he could watch his memories by himself.

I don't know what it would have been like getting drafted, but I imagine Bucky didn't want to.

So, I already know what Bucky ultimately decides to do, mission wise. But what do you guys think?