Author's note: Sorry it took so long for this segment! It needed some serious work before I posted it. But I hope you all like the story so far! I know I'm excited, but that's just me. If you are enjoying the story, feel free to let me know. I've rarely shared my writing with the public, so feedback in the form of comments, likes, follows, whatever are all very welcome and encouraging. But even if you don't do those things, I'm still so very glad you've taken the time to read what I've written.

. . .

A week had passed since the United States joined the war. Bucky and Steve had immediately traipsed into the recruiting office and filled out the paperwork required to sign up. They'd gone up to the counter together once everything was filled in, Bucky passing his papers over first. The clerk had peered at Steve with a mix of disbelief and entertainment. The stamp was in his hand before the papers left Steve's fingers, pre-plunged in red ink. "You can't be serious, kid," he'd said. The stamp pounded down with a hollow thump. "You'd be sent home in a body bag before you even left camp."

Bucky watched Steve's expression harden. "With all due respect, sir, I'm a dedicated worker. I can accomplish any goal I set for myself. All you have to do is give a chance to—"

"To what? To have an asthma attack and suffocate to death? To fall and risk the lives of your comrades who refuse to leave you behind?"

"Anyone can fall, sir," Bucky interjected.

The clerk had turned to Bucky with a glare. "Was I speaking to you, son?"

"No, sir. But you were using false logic to justify denying my friend here admittance."

"Leave it alone, Bucky. It's okay." Steve said, putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky licked his lower lip and turned away. Steve slowly followed behind.

It hadn't taken long for to Bucky receive his acceptance letter. All he had to do now was tell Steve the news. The envelope was tucked safely into the inner pocket of his jacket, and it seemed to burn into his side the longer he waited. It commanded his attention throughout the day; not even the gorgeous brunette drawing model could capture his gaze. Instead, he'd sat the class with his pencil poised above the paper, marked with a few coarse strokes, and stared at the frost-framed window.

"Come on, Bucky. Class is over," said Steve. "What's wrong? You've been distracted all day."

Bucky shut his sketchbook with the pencil marking the page. He plunged his hand into his jacket and pulled out the envelope. "I've been accepted, Steve. I'm going to war."

Steve nodded. "Congratulations. Though I didn't have any doubt." Steve snapped his own sketchbook closed and jammed it into his satchel. He took extra care looping the leather strap through the buckle and hooking it closed.

"I'm supposed to report for duty in one week. I get my assignment tomorrow."

Steve nodded again. "I was declined two more times."

"Really, Steve?" Bucky ran his hand through his dark hair. "You're breaking the law now, lying on government forms? What are you trying to prove?"

Steve glared at the table. "It's my choice if I want to live or die for this country. To decide to fight for what's right and good. I have the same right as you to join the army."

"But you don't have to be a soldier to do those things, Steve. There are other ways you can make a difference."

Steve shot a glare at Bucky. "And how's that? By towing a little red wagon behind me as I salvage scrap metal?"

Bucky's jaw clenched. "I know you can handle yourself. Alright? You've got to be one of the scrappiest guys I know. But you've also got to be smart in choosing your fights. What are you gonna do? Fight the entire US army to get to Europe?" He stood and flipped up the collar on his coat. He loosed a small sigh. "I'm not gonna stop you. If you wanna put in five applications to five recruiting centers using five aliases, be my guest. I'll be the supportive best friend you've always had. I just wanted you to know that you don't need to prove anything to anyone. Because it doesn't matter what those recruiters say. You are good enough."

Steve smiled and shrugged on his coat. "Thanks, Bucky."

. . .

For the third day in a row, Bucky lay strapped to what appeared to be a modified orthodontics chair, fully reclined. A clear lightbulb hung above his face, burning into his retinas. But to close his eyes would show weakness. Bucky would not allow this insane man—Zola, he'd been informed—any amount of gratification.

"Why do you resist? You have been given this opportunity of a lifetime. Embrace it," Zola said as he approached the table. He waited, but Bucky remained silent and unflinching, staring straight ahead. Zola stood over him. "I will push you to the limits, and push you beyond until you break. Whether you wish it or not, you will fulfill your potential." He backed away. "Let's start again with a simple question. Who are you?"

"My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th regiment. I grew up in Brooklyn, New York—"

"Wrong."

A pulse of electricity vibrated through Bucky's body, cutting short any thought. He was breathing jagged breaths by the time it stopped.

"I will ask you again and again for as long as it takes. Who are you?"

There was a moment before Bucky could get his lips to move enough to form words. "M-m-my name is James B-buchanan Barnes of the 107th—" Another shot of electricity wracked his body. His fingers curled in on themselves. His toes dug into his boots. His teeth cut into the edge of his tongue, filling his mouth with the metal tang of blood. After the pulse died, he turned his head and spat at Zola the best he could, covering the floor in a red spray.

A burly man with guns strapped to his hip lunged forward and jabbed his fist against Bucky's cheek. "That's is enough." Zola had stopped the man from loosing another punch. Bucky felt the welt already rising, swelling in around his left eye. Zola stepped closer. "You are not a man. No name belongs to you. All you are now is Experiment 23557. That is the only designation you will have. Save yourself time and pain…accept your fate." Zola adjusted his glasses. "Now. What is your name?"

The words came slower still and thick on his bleeding tongue. "Mmm name…isss…J-j-james…B-buchanan…Barnes."

. . .

The bare lightbulb flickered to life, but it hardly registered to Bucky. His bruised face lolled to the side, and he watched the bleary form of Zola walk towards him. A moan caught in his throat, degenerating into a gurgle. Zola injected another shot into his now bruised neck, and Bucky flinched away. His heart raced, head spun, and stomach lurched. He would have vomited, but he didn't even have a drop of black acid left to spew.

"It's time to wake up, 23557. Your lessons must resume." Hands set to work, hooking him up to the usual array of wires. Someone flipped a switch by his head, and the machine whirred to life. Electricity hummed, and Bucky began breathing in erratic breaths. "If all goes well this week, you'll be getting your next dose of serum." Zola made some quick notes. "I must admit. Your progress has been a bit slow for my liking, but you have gone further than any of the others." He set down his clipboard. "As usual, let's start with the simple question. Who are you?"

For a moment it seemed as though Bucky hadn't heard. He only lay there staring unseeing at the bare lightbulb. Then his lips moved soundlessly, trying to form words. Finally he managed a murmur. When Zola didn't respond, he tried again. "B-barnes." The word was little more than a whisper.

Zola sighed. "Just a small zap," he said to his assistant standing beside the machine. Electricity pulsed through the wires and into Bucky's exhausted body. He didn't even brace for it this time. "Once more, 23557. Who are you?"

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and mixed with the cold sweat beading at his hairline. "2…3…5…" He swallowed. "Barnes."

"You have had the same answer for a week. Each time you answer incorrectly, you have been punished with an electric shock. Your body can only take so much more, you know. And you have come so much further than the others. Perhaps we should employ alternate methods." Zola looked to the guard standing by the door and flagged him over. "Hold back just enough." The guard pulled back and released a left hook to Bucky's stomach. "There is no James Buchanan Barnes." A right hook to the stomach. "He is only a man you once knew." A jab to the cheek, drawing a droplet of blood just below his eye. "You are only known as 23557." A jab to the jaw split the corner of his lip. "23557. Repeat." The guard pulled back for another hit, but Zola stopped him.

Bucky coughed and wheezed for breath. It was several moments before he could say anything. "23..55..7."

"Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Again."

"…23557."

"Keep repeating that to yourself. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

"23557." His head fell to the side once more, and he watched Zola leave. "23557." The iron door shut behind him. "Barnes."

. . .

"Listen, Steve. I'm heading out in the morning. Come with me to the Stark Expo. I hear he's revealing something pretty big. I even got us dates." It was Bucky's last night home on leave. He'd finished basic training at camp and was heading off for Europe the next morning.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno, Bucky. The Expo's fine, but a date? I'm sure I'd ruin everything."

Bucky sat back in the chair across from Steve. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You know that cute brunette model from class?" Steve nodded. "She said she's got a cute blonde friend." Steve hung his head. "What? Were you hoping for…what's her name? Aspen?"

Steve smirked. "A cute blonde will do just fine."

Bucky smiled as well. "Great! Better get cleaned up. We're picking them up in half an hour."

Right on time, they were standing on the dimly lit porch, waiting for someone to answer the door. Bucky tipped his sergeant's cap to the side and grinned eagerly at Steve, who looked as though he might be sick. Bucky laughed and elbowed him in the arm. "Smile. Have fun. You'll be fine."

Behind the closed door sounded a few giggles followed by a hissing shh! The door swung open, revealing the brunette with her friend standing behind her. "Hiya, Bucky!" Even her voice seemed to sparkle.

"Hiya yourself." His grin was crooked, the same goofy grin he flashed whenever he was trying to be charming. The girl grinned even wider and her cheeks deepened half a shade of rose. "You gals ready for some fun?"

The brunette looped her arm around Bucky's, looking at him as though he were the most important person in her life. "I'll go wherever you lead, Sergeant Barnes." All four of them traipsed down the road hunting for a taxi and splashing in the puddles from the spring rain earlier in the day.

Bucky turned and saw a cab heading their way and whistled for it. The cabbie pulled to the side of the road and they scrambled in. Bucky went first. The brunette insisted on sitting on his lap. Steve squished in next to Bucky, and his date got the window seat. Bucky grinned at Steve, who could only manage a sickly grimace. The brunette grabbed his cap from his head and placed it on her own with a mad giggle. Bucky laughed as well, but returned his attention back to Steve who was watching the blonde stare out the window. Steve rummaged in his pocket, fished out a stick of gum, and tried to offer it to the blonde. She ignored Steve, trying to turn further away from him. Steve shoved the gum back into his pocket and fidgeted with the zipper pull in his jacket. The brunette landed a fluttering kiss on Bucky's neck, regaining his full attention.

After a while, the group clambered out of the cab. As they all gained their bearings, Bucky plopped his cap back on his head. Steve rubbed his neck and shuffled his feel while the blonde crossed her arms and watched the crowd rushing towards the expo. Her friend skipped over to her, and Bucky walked over to Steve, dropping his arm over Steve's bony shoulders.

"You gotta breathe, Stevie." Bucky laughed. The girls traipsed ahead, and Bucky ushered Steve to follow. "It's a date, not an execution."

"I know, but look at me, Bucky. I'm not exactly desirable."

Steve had his hands jammed into his pockets. From this angle, Bucky could see a bit of Steve's black suspenders peeking out from under the pucker of his beige jacket. A strand of his gold hair flopped over his forehead, and his blue eyes seems to glow in the light of the expo. Bucky tightened his grip around Steve, jostling him a little, and sighed. "You're too critical of yourself, Stevie. Just promise me you'll try to have fun, alright?"

Steve nodded. "Whatever you say, Buck."