He grinds his teeth and clenches his fists. He managed to track down the nursing home Albert Fowler had been in, but they were no help at all. The man himself had died in 1976, and they only told him that next of kin was listed as a Molly Miller. And then they had refused to tell him her address because it was against their policy.
He doesn't even fully understand why he's so desperate to find Amelia. Something in his mind won't stop repeating her name, over and over and over until it becomes a second pulse. When he asks himself why he's even searching, his next thought is always 'Amelia'. It's often accompanied by a memory of her face, and he just knows he needs to find her.
"My Mia," he mutters without meaning to, and he grips his head in his hands. The soldier tries to push her from his mind, but his memory fights him. He's assaulted by the image of Amelia in his arms as they dance around the kitchen, followed quickly by a memory of her all but tackling him in a hug. The memories don't stop there. He sees small touches and quick kisses and feels every ounce of love behind them, and he roars in frustration.
He still loves her, he realizes.
His hand stings and he sees he's punched clean through the window of a car in the parking lot. People inside are staring and pointing, and a few have taken out their phones. He glares at them and takes off. Hopefully it will take the police a few minutes to get there; he can disappear by then. A few orderlies attempt to chase him as he flees the property, but he easily leaves them far behind. After a few minutes he turns off the road and into the woods, slowing to a brisk jog. He knows he's out of danger for now, but he keeps his pace.
I loved Amelia Fowler.
His metal hand closes around a young tree and with a firm yank he rips it right out of the ground, roots and all. He's not supposed to feel emotions. He is a soldier, a machine, and he does not feel anything because he's never been ordered to feel, whether it be love, anger, or guilt.
I loved her.
He reduces a boulder to dust. It's not nearly enough, but it helps him control his rage. Memories come back to him as he runs. Quiet moments in Brooklyn with Amelia, though the man shows up in a few of them as well. His mission. Captain America.
'Steven Grant Rogers,' his memory provides him with a proper name. He still doesn't quite know what to make of him. On the one hand he remembers enough to know with absolute certainty that Bucky Barnes trusted Steve Rogers, called him a brother. But on the other hand he only knows his mission to take out Captain America. A mission he failed. A mission every atom in his being tells him to complete.
After an hour or so he stumbles upon a town and manages to find his way to the center, making his way to the library. He's trying his best to seem inconspicuous as he sits down at a computer, but the way people are staring at him suggests that he's not blending in as he'd hoped. He opens up the internet, having observed people do this a million times, but he's at a loss as to what he should do next. He hesitantly grabs the mouse and moves it around, watching the cursor on the screen move too. He tries to discreetly look at the screen on either side of him in hopes that he'll find something helpful.
"Excuse me, sir," a woman says from behind him. "Do you need any help?"
"I'm trying to find someone," he answers gruffly.
"Like for a research paper?" She asks him brightly.
"I don't know."
The woman's smile falters. "Okay… well I usually find that Google is usually the best when I'm trying to find information on someone." She walks back to a circular desk, glancing at him every so often.
It takes him a while, but he manages to type the names Molly Miller and Joseph Miller in the search box on the screen. A few photographs appear at the top of the next screen and underneath a long list of articles comes up. He clicks on a few of them, but they're mostly local news stories from decades ago, nothing helpful at all. He's about to turn the computer into scrap metal when he finds an address in Connecticut. There's no guarantee that it's actually them, but it's something to go off of.
He leaves the library without bothering to close the program and hot-wires a car in the parking lot. It's a tiny, stupid looking thing, but it has a GPS system in it. The device is simple enough to figure out, though he nearly jumps out of his skin the first time the GPS talks to him, a woman's voice from seemingly nowhere telling him to turn right onto a new street. But soon he's on the highway, on his way to Connecticut. As he gets closer to the town he can feel his heart start to beat faster and he frowns. He doesn't understand why his body is reacting this way. The soldier doesn't remember ever being fearful or nervous before.
He contemplates driving away, not going through with finding Amelia, or whoever is at this address. They'll never know the difference and he can just disappear.
He pulls up to the house anyway.
It's a cute suburban thing, and there's a man and a young boy playing outside when he kills the engine. The two people stop their game to stare at him as he approaches.
"I'm looking for Joseph Miller," he tells them without a greeting. "Can you help me?"
"Sam, go inside," the man says to the boy. "Are you the police or something?"
"Am I at the right address?" the soldier presses. "Please, I just need to ask him a question."
"Yeah, you're at the right house," the man sighs. "My dad's inside if you need to talk to him, but it's been a bad day for him."
"That doesn't matter. I just need ten minutes alone with him."
"Alright," the man says. "Please, try not to upset him though. It's hard to calm him down during one of his episodes."
The man leads him up to the house, and the soldier sees the young boy duck around a corner as they approach. Out of habit he scans his surroundings and finds plenty of family photos hung on the walls and placed on tables and shelves. He's led up to a white door, and the man knocks softly before opening it.
"Dad?" he says. "There's someone here to see you."
"Philip? Is that you?" a feeble voice calls.
"No, Dad. It's me, Dean. I'm your son."
"Let's go play Philip! I'll race you to the corner store!" The man turns back to him with a sad look on his face.
"You're probably not going to get any answers out of him."
"I need to try." He's not sure what the other man sees in his face, but he steps aside to let the soldier into the room. An old man sits in a chair by the window. A blanket covers his legs and a thick sweater is draped around his shoulders, despite it being so hot outside. He looks at the soldier as he hears him approach, and immediately his eyes light up.
"Uncle Bucky!" he yells, trying to rise from the chair. The soldier jerks back in surprise.
"Joseph Miller?"
"Uncle Bucky, you're alive!" The old man throws the blanket from his lap, exposing his pale, skinny legs. "I knew you'd come back! I always told Aunt Amelia so!"
"Amelia?"
"Where have you been? What happened to you?"
"Do you know where Amelia is?"
"No one would tell me anything," the old man continues. "The soldiers came to the door and handed them a letter and a flag and some medals, but no one would tell me why they were all so sad. Aunt Amelia cried for days. It scared me. She wouldn't come out of her room."
His brow furrows. "What?"
"She's been so different, these past two years, so quiet. She's missed you. But now you're back!"
He's confused. None of what the old man is saying makes any sense. And he doesn't want to picture Amelia sobbing for his loss, locked in her room as she wishes she still had him. His mind conjures up an image of it anyway, and he grips his head between his fists. He's aware he's making animalistic noises, but he's powerless to stop it.
"Uncle Bucky?"
"Stop! Just stop!" he grinds out between his teeth, sinking to his knees. "Where is she? Where is Mia?"
The old man stares at him in confusion. "She's here at home, isn't she? She's downstairs with Mother and Grandpa."
"But Albert died years ago," he says, staring back at the old man, equally confused.
"No he didn't," Joseph says, looking frightened. "He's alive, isn't he? I just saw him this morning! He's alive, he isn't dead!"
The door opens and Dean storms in. "What in the hell is going on here?" he bellows.
"Grandpa is alive, right?" Joseph screams from his chair. "He's alive, I know he is!"
"You need to leave right now." Dean grabs him by his arm and pulls him to his feet, dragging him through the house and outside.
"Please," the soldier begs in a hoarse voice. "I just want to find her."
"So you traumatize an old man with Alzheimer's?" Dean shouts. " I asked you not to upset him. Now I have to go deal with this."
"Where is Amelia?" the soldier demands. He catches the door, not bothering to cover his metal hand. "Just tell me where I can find her and I'll leave."
"You're looking for Aunt Amelia?" Dean asks, eyeing his arm.
"Yes." He tries to control his breathing. "That's all I want to know."
The man pauses. "I don't know exactly where she is. You'll have to ask my cousins."