It was surprisingly easy to steal the clothing he needed. Store security was all but ignorable after 70 years practice, dodging state-of-the-art government surveillance. Cover up the arm and he was practically invisible. He even took the time to select a baseball cap.
He'd noticed signs for a "Captain America Special Exhibition" at the Smithsonian littering every pole and bulletin board in the area, and eased his way into the crowds flowing through the museum, unnoticed.
He had expected only to learn more about this Steve Rogers person, but now he found himself surrounded by things that felt incredibly familiar but distant. It was like visiting a place you've heard about all your life.
The name… his name? was everywhere. Bucky Barnes.
He took advantage of the press of the crowd to covertly touch the hem of the dark blue jacket on the mannequin display. It was entirely too familiar, but it wasn't the original. He knew that the moment he touched it. The original was blood-stained and half the sleeve was gone.
A trail of blood in clean white snow.
He turned a corner and a video reel caught his eye. He stared. His own face looked back at him. The hair was shorter and the face was fuller, but there was no mistaking his own reflection. He was...laughing. Laughing and smiling. … With Steve. It took him a moment to realize that the video was black and white footage from decades ago. His mind had automatically filled in the colors it remembered for him.
He looked back at the jacket and his eyes scanned up to the mural on the wall. His face again. There beside Captain America. The other faces were familiar too. They had been friends. Brothers. His missing life was here. It was all around him. He drew the baseball cap down over his eyes and moved on.
There was an entire wall, it turned out, conveniently devoted to the memory of Bucky Barnes: closest friend of Captain America. He read it hungrily. Then read it again, and again.
It had all been true, then; what the blonde man had told him. All of it. This man had been his closest friend. He hadn't even known he had friends….
"Steve…" What had he done?
"I thought you might show up here."
He froze, still standing fixated in front of his own obituary. Steve Rogers was just over his shoulder.
"This is who I was…" He answered cautiously, not turning around.
"It's who you still are, Buck."
"I'm not so sure."
"Come back with me. We'll get you through this together. … It'll be just like when we were kids."
He turned to find the blonde man smiling at him. He didn't return the smile, but he didn't refuse either. He needed to know.
"Who am I, Steve?"
"You're my best friend."