He knows he shouldn't be surprised, but he is anyway. It's not like the woman in the bed was going to be wrinkle free, dressed to the nines, and her face coated in red lipstick and night black eyeliner.
There's silence for a moment, wide eyes and a wrinkled nose. If he hadn't known her before - and he had, he had, just like he'd known the blond man with those hard eyes - then he surely wouldn't have recognized her then. The wrinkles are certainly new, the hair more white than silver, but her eyes are the same as ever. Even harsher than Steve's, cold and metallic and hard. There had always been something about her eyes that made everyone stop, that let them know just who they were dealing with. Age had worn through everything but those eyes.
Those eyes looked out of place here. Machines beeped and nurses walked back and forth around the building, dressed in green scrubs, their faces hidden behind medical masks and their hair held back in tight buns and ponytails. The floor was too clean, the walls too bright of a color, and the beds (at least the empty ones) too neatly made. Her room was the only place that even looked half lived in, with its assortment of pictures and various medals and awards from years long past.
"Bucky." Her voice was throaty and dry yet loud enough to fill the room.
"Peggy."
She still had her eyes. What did he have? Too long hair, too much stubble (soldiers, at least the American kind, kept themselves shaved), more muscle than he ever could have dreamed of having, a metal arm he still couldn't remember getting, and worn, used clothes that were a bit too big on him. If he looked in the mirror, he hardly would recognize himself.
There was a look in her eyes, the same look that Steve had a few weeks before, in that moment that changed everything. Even when his own mind had been blank, no past and no future (and, if he were to be completely honest, barely any future), Steve had been able to look at him and see something.
"Bucky," she repeated. Her voice squeaked near the end. "Steve had mentioned, but I couldn't believe him. How could I? I was there at the fall, all the soldiers were. You were... You were supposed to be-"
"Dead."
The room turned silent once more. Outside, machines beeped and nurses chattered.
Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.
"I," she said. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. It's just that I've lived so many years thinking you, and Steve too, were dead and gone. Then you too both come back, young and alive as ever."
Bucky opened his mouth to speak but then just as quickly closed it. He had already said enough.
"It was shocking enough to turn on my TV and see Steve in New York. You?" She paused. "Well at least I don't have to see you and listen to a squeaky voiced reporter."
Bucky snorted. "I hope I'm not on the news any time soon."
Peggy smiled. Her lips were thin and pale, but her smile stretched across her entire face. "You're really back."
"I," he replied, looking to the ground, to his worn shoes. "I am." He bit his lips. "I suppose you have a few questions to ask me."
He was used to it. Everyone these days seemed to have at least one to ask him.
"How," she began. Maybe it would be about the arm, or about what had happened over the years, what kind of man he had become.
But that wasn't him, was it? That had just been a man, a man that wasn't really him, no matter how alike the two looked. That was the Winter Soldier.
And he... He was just Bucky, a man who took a terrible fall and woke up, somehow still alive, nearly a century later.
"How are you doing?"
Bucky blinked. He looked to her, an eyebrow half raised. His hands, one flesh and one metal, hovered just above his pockets yet never quite reached them.
"I... I could be doing worse."
"The doctors say the same for me." Peggy coughed, once, twice, and then three times. She probably would have gone on were it not for her reaching a shaky hand out and grappling a half full plastic cup of water from the dresser by her bed. She took a few sips before firmly placing the cup back down again. She looked back up to him. "Oh, don't look so concerned. I've survived over ninety years and I can survive a few more. Just don't do anything too outrageous like Steve has and I won't have anything to worry about."
Bucky chuckled. "Maybe it would be best to avoid the news."
"Maybe you're right." Her voice was a little higher than before. "Steve always seems to be getting himself on it."
Bucky shifted, turning his eyes towards the rows of pictures laid out across her other large wooden dresser and her window sill. The pictures inside were old, most in black or white or shades of yellow and brown, but the frames themselves were polished and shined, free of dust and smudges. There are a few pictures in color as well, most showing Peggy and a black man, though a few have children in them as well.
"Recognize anyone?" she asked.
Bucky shook his head.
"Don't let Gabe hear that or he'll be offended that you forgot him."
Bucky walked forward and picked up one of the pictures. Yes, the man in it is older, the bottom of the picture reading 2/19/69, but he does look like Gabe. Bucky remembered him, not as clearly as Steve, but still did. Gabe always had a joke to tell, even after the hardest mission, and regularly sent letters home.
"And these people?" Bucky surveyed the various pictures. Children, most dark skinned and with curly hair, smiled up at him. A few were paler, some even having Peggy's auburn hair. All of them looked genuinely happy, unlike the way most people, smiling or not, looked in a photo.
"My children when they were younger, a few grandchildren as well. There are some nieces of mine up there, even a few new cousins of mine. I can't always make it to birthdays or to the hospital to see them be born, but my family makes sure to send photos."
"They're all beautiful." Not his favorite choice of a word, a bit too cliche, but he had never been good with descriptions. It was true though. All those children looked like Peggy, whether through their eyes, hard no matter if they were blue of a deep brown, or whether due to their facial shape. Most had that determined look to them, a look that seemed to say to the future that they weren't afraid of whatever would be thrown at them. "You should be proud."
"I couldn't be prouder." A pause. "They come to visit me sometimes, at least when they have time to drop by. A few are a bit older than their pictures, but some are still young. You should see some of my grandchildren. Some are ten or so and others are still in diapers. They're adorable. I think that they would like you."
"You do?"
Bucky looked down. He hardly looked like the children's type.
"They've already met their Uncle Steve, and they all think that he hung the moon. They'd surely think you'd done the same. My husband and I may have our war stories to tell them, but you two are living proof of it. You say more than a history book ever could, let alone what I probably do."
Bucky paused. "I- I don't believe so. You've certainly seen a lot, even more than I have. Steve keeps saying that I have to watch a documentary on the moon landing with him, and Sam filled my entire iPod."
Peggy smirked, her eyes gleaming. "So you need a history lesson? Where should I start?"
Bucky smiled. "I think that can wait for another time." He looked her in the eyes. "You know, I saw a movie about you, read up a bit on you as well."
"Huh?"
"I, well... I actually did catch up a bit on my history. You were a part of this new exhibit at the Smithsonian and a librarian helped me find a few books on you. I think I need to return those soon or I might get fined. It's a good thing that I finished them." He paused. "It's not the same as seeing you again in the flesh." He turned back towards the photos, his eyes wondering back towards the ones in black and white and faded brown. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, and he reached a shaky hand out towards one of the smaller photos.
Peggy turned her head. "I still remember that night."
Images and sounds ran through Bucky's mind, like a movie that skipped over parts. Everything was hazy, and his memory may as well have been in the same grey shades as the photograph.
"It was so warm then. We were all sweating, even Steve. Everyone was just so happy, even if our heads were probably aching and we'd rather have all been in bed."
Bucky nodded. Yes, it had been warm and he had been tired.
"I can still remember the hangover the day afterwards; my head must have been splitting for days."
Bucky looked back to her, the picture still held in his metal hand. It would be rude to smudge the glass or leaving fingerprints. "You did drink a lot, even more than me."
She smirked. "I hardly remember you being one to keep your liquor down."
"No one could like you."
Peggy smiled. "The other soldiers all thought they could beat me, they really did. I could hardly walk afterwards, but I at least proved the others wrong."
Bucky smiled. "I'm glad that I just gave up after a while. Someone besides Steve had to help get you to bed." He looked back to the photo. Everyone was smiling, even if only two were actually drunk. Steve was to the left, Peggy in the center and leaning against his shoulder, and Bucky to the right, his arm wrapped around her waist. Maybe Steve had gotten a drink that night or maybe he hadn't; it wasn't as if anyone who took the super soldier serum could get drunk.
Not even Bucky, not now. Things, after all, were different back then.
Bucky placed the photo down. There were more than a few pictures of Steve, but many others had the Howling Commandos as well.
A number were even of just him, various pictures placed around each other, the man inside trapped behind a frame of glass and found in a colorless world of time long passed.
"I know this must be hard on you, Peggy. After years of thinking someone was dead and then they just walk in, completely uninvited, and come visit you."
"It is very strange." She smiled. "But not a bad thing, not by any means. I don't get many visitors."
"It must have been hard, though; you admitted yourself that you thought I was dead."
And, he supposed, in a way he was. The Winter Soldier had been alive, but himself? Not by any means.
"Well, yes. It's not every day that you find out your mourning was... Not useless, but not worth all the pain either." She paused and took a drink from her cup of water. "I made S.H.I.E.L.D. because of Steve. It's safety protocols, especially concerning anyone in danger of falling, was because of you. I didn't want anyone else to have to lose a soldier."
Bucky's face softened. "I- I'm sorry, Peggy."
"It's not your fault. Steve told me a bit about you and what happened - what HYDRA forced you to do. He says sometimes you're around and sometimes you're not. He really is worried about you."
"It sounds like you're the same way."
"A bit, yes," she replied. "I just wish that you could have gotten to live a life like I had, you and Steve both. I got to live, while you two got to..."
"It's not your fault what happened to us." Steve had tried to do the right thing, what a hero would do. Bucky? There hadn't been a Bucky back then, let alone right or wrong.
"I know. I just wish that things could be different for you two."
"Maybe they will be." Bucky picked up another photo, a newer one.
There was a knock at the door even though it was open. A dark skinned nurse in scrubs smiled at the door. "Miss Carter, it's time for your medicine." Her eyes landed on Bucky. "And you are?"
"An old friend stopping by for a visit," Peggy said.
The nurse smiled at him, a real smile like the children in the photographs had. "You've had a quite a number of visitors over these past few months. First that Italian woman, then Captain America, and finally this man. You must be quite the popular lady!"
"She really is," Bucky commented. He stepped forward. "I suppose that I should be going; you two look busy."
"Oh, there's no need," the nurse said. "I'll be quick."
Bucky shook his head. "I have things I need to do - library books to return, people to call, plans I need to make."
Peggy nodded. "You'll be back, won't you? My niece and her wife are dropping by next Friday and bringing their son with them. He'll like you."
Bucky nodded. "My schedule is free."
"And if you ever want to drop by another time, please do. I don't have as busy of a schedule as I used to."
"Me neither." Bucky smiled. "I suppose that I'll see you then. Take care, Peggy."
"I should say the same to you, Barnes. And drop by to see Gabe some time soon as well; he'd be delighted to see you."
"I would to."
"Goodbye, Bucky."
"Bye." He paused, trying to remember what Sam always said. "Until next time, Peggy."
Even the nurse waved goodbye to him.
His steps were a bit lighter as he left. The walls weren't as bright, nor the smell of cleaning supplies as strong. He smiled at a few nurses and they all smiled back.
Right near the door was a pay phone. If Sam's words were true, even those were outdated. Picking it up, Bucky pulled a few quarters from his pocket.
The phone rang two times and then stopped in the middle of the third.
"Hello? Who is this?"
"Sam, it's me." Bucky paused. He had expected Steve, though it wasn't surprising. Sam was the technology expert.
"Bucky?" Sam's voice rose. "Oh man, where are you? Steve and I have been wondering about you."
"Oh, just visiting an old friend named Peggy. Steve will understand." Bucky absently played with the phone's cord, twisting it between his fingers. "I actually came to ask about directions. You know how things are now; all the streets have changed."
"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me where you are and I can come pick you up or give you directions. I just need to pull up Map Quest really quickly."
"Okay," Bucky said. "I also have a question."
"What? Is something wrong?"
"Oh no, of course not. I was just wondering if you and Steve were busy next Friday. Some people really want to see us."
"Next Friday? Yeah, I'm free. I can check with Steve."
"And maybe sometime this weekend? I know someone who would love to watch that moon landing documentary with us."
"Looks like someone has been filling up his schedule. But yeah, I'm free and I'll see if Steve is too." He paused for a moment. "Okay, I've got Map Quest up now. Where did you say you were again?"