Bucky watched with an odd sense of calm as the doctors continued to prep him for cryo. Steve hovered nearby and Bucky knew from his expression that the other man had some reservations – maybe some regrets – about what was happening. The former assassin couldn't blame him; he could imagine how he'd feel in Steve's position, discovering that his long-lost best friend was not, in fact, dead, but was still so far out of reach.

"Steve," he spoke up, attracting the blond's attention. Their eyes met and the brunet sighed. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, Steve nodded, understanding the scope of the apology. "So am I."

Bucky shook his head, tossing off the apology. Steve wasn't the harbinger of sadness and destruction. Guiltily, he said, "I need you to do something for me."

"What is it, Buck?"

"I know you're going to have to go underground, but… as much as you can, I need you to watch out for Harper. If anyone traces me back to her…"

Steve nodded firmly. "I will."

"Thank you," he replied with a small smile.

The Captain looked downward before looking up again with a matching smile. "She's really been good for you, huh?"

"I couldn't even begin to describe how good. I came out of being the Soldier not knowing who the hell I was, not trusting anyone, sure I'd have to live out the rest of my life running. But with her… I felt like a better version of who I was before the War."

"I'll look forward to getting to know her better someday," Steve replied, smile growing.

Bucky chuckled. "She feels the same way about you."

The doctor finished prep and stepped away, beginning to make adjustments to the cryo pod. Steve glanced at the pod and asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"I can't trust my own mind." He breathed a mirthless chuckle. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff outta my head, I think going back under is the best thing." Bucky didn't miss the downcast look on Steve's face as he looked downward again, unable to hold eye contact. The former soldier pressed gently, "For everybody."

Mere minutes later, the brunet was settling into the pod. The glass slid into place around him and he shifted slightly, eyes closing with his acceptance of the situation. He knew it was for the best. He couldn't risk killing anymore innocent people or hurting those that mattered to him. There was a brief blast of cold air before his mind went blissfully quiet.

Harper,

There is no way this letter is going to be sufficient. Even if I'm able to see you in person before you read this, I doubt you'll get what is owed to you. An apology befitting the wrongs I've done to you, honesty, closure… everything I will try to give you here, knowing it's not enough.

I don't have the words to tell you how truly sorry I am. I may have planned for this, but I had hoped to never have to go through with any of it. Hopefully whatever reason I've had to run won't bar me from coming back to you. If you'll still have me.

I'm sorry for leaving you so suddenly, for the pain that my leaving has caused. But mostly I'm sorry for all of the deception. When we met, I never knew what you would become to me. It didn't seem like my dishonesty about who I am would ever matter. I should have come clean sooner out of respect for you and our relationship. I want to finally be honest.

My real name is James Buchanan Barnes. George really was my father's name, and Rogers is Steve's last name. I was born March 10, 1917. Everything I told you about my mother, my siblings, who I was growing up before the War was all true, if not a little vague to hide the fact that my story began so long ago. When I enlisted in the army, it was to fight in World War II. I rose up the ranks to Sergeant in part because it turns out I was a pretty talented sniper. While trying to push back enemy lines, my regiment was captured by the Nazi Science Division, HYDRA. Their lead scientist experimented on me there, but Steve – Captain America – freed us. We made it back to our camp, and formed a small, specialized unit to combat HYDRA. We were called the Howling Commandos.

What I told you about going on a mission with Steve where I got knocked out the side of a moving train was true. It was a mission that changed my life in a more substantial way than I alluded to. I fell down a ravine, and my left arm was shorn from my body. I woke up briefly, surrounded by people who were dragging me through the snow and practically bleeding out through my shoulder. The next time I woke up, the godawful scientist from my earlier capture was there again, and the doctors were operating on what was left of my arm, preparing it for the cybernetic prosthetic.

Once I was healed, my life only consisted of this machine… I don't know how it worked. All I know is it set my brain on fire and erased all my memories. It remade me and I became the Winter Soldier. I spent most of the next near 70 years in cryostasis. I was let out only to train and for missions. Every time a memory or an iota of free will returned to me, it was back to the machine. I think that's half of why I'm so fucked up.

The other explanation is the sheer amount of life I've taken. I know some of my history is public knowledge and that I've been credited with two dozen political assassinations, but that's honestly just a scratch on the surface. I've done so much more damage than that. I have been on the run since everything that happened in D.C. because not only does every large government in the world have reason to want me dead, but what's left of HYDRA definitely wants their weapon back.

I'm writing all of this not for your pity or sympathy, but because I want you to have the truth. I owe you much more, though I fear that if you are reading this letter, perhaps this is all I will ever be able to give you.

I may have been outstandingly deceptive about who I was, but I was always honest about who I've been since meeting you. You pulled me out of the hell I was in, trying to unscramble my mind and wondering who I was if not a soldier or an assassin. Everything I have ever told you about how I feel for you, how you've been such a positive force in my life, everything that was not about who I've been, has all been true. I hope you can believe that despite all of the lies. If nothing else, please know that I truly have fallen in love with you. I never knew I could love someone as I do you, and I'm more grateful than I can describe that you taught me that.

Please stay safe. I know you can handle yourself, but I worry regardless. If this is our final goodbye, I want nothing but happiness for you, whatever that takes. There are very few people in this world as deserving of happiness as you, Harper.

With all my love,

James

A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with Bucky and Harper. I have appreciated all of the support along the way.

Fun fact: the entire reason I started this story is because about a year and a half ago I was watching Civil War and got to the scene where Zemo keeps addressing Bucky by his real name and I thought, "What if Bucky was annoyed by this not because he wants to take back and finally control his identity, but because he'll only accept a certain person using that name?" And here we are.

I'm a little torn on where (if anywhere) to go next. I have started writing a sequel, but it's in really early stages. It would be a bit before anything goes up. But I'm also wondering if this is an ending that fits. I'm not sure. I'd be grateful for any thoughts on where to go from here, the story in general, etc. now that we've come to an end.

Thank you again for everything,

Silver