He stared at the man in front of him, trying to place him, to remember… He was sure they met before, he looked familiar- DC. He met him in DC. They fought. He was with Steve. He wasn’t sure he remembered Steve. He read about him and himself at the museum, but he didn’t know what he learned and what were memories. He knew his name was James Buchanan Barnes, but he went by Bucky. That, he found out at the museum, too. He was confused a lot lately, the more he learned and the longer no one messed with his head. Some memories came and went, he remembered things and then forgot again. It was confusing.
Now, the man in front of him. He didn’t look like anyone else who knew who he was. Most people had fear in their eyes, some immediately fought him, some tried to run. Except Steve. And this guy. He wasn’t scared at all. He seemed tired and exasperated. Strange.
“Man, you’re not easy to find.” he said, leaning against the doorway, like this was a casual conversation. He had to know who Bucky- who the Soldier was, right?
“You shouldn’t be here.” Bucky responded quietly. “Nobody warned you about me?” he asked tentatively, already calculating all the possible ways to escape. Preferably without hurting the man. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. He didn’t think he wanted to, at least. A part of him wanted to kill him and run, but he resisted the urge. For now. He didn’t want to, but who knew for how long he would remain himself, or if he was even himself right now. Maybe the Soldier would take over and kill him. He had no idea how all this worked. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else…Â
“Oh, I got a warning.” he smirked. Huh. “I know what you’re capable of. I’m not scared, though.”
“Why?”
“Do you want me to be scared?” he raised his eyebrow.
“I don’t know.” he answered truthfully. Then, as he kept staring at him, something clicked. “Oh. You’re the guy with wings.”
“Yeah.” he fucking chuckled. “That’s me. I’m Sam, by the way.” Sam added, then frowned. “You don’t-? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Bucky repeated. He had no idea who he was, his memory was all jumbled, he wasn’t sure what was real and what was just put in his brain, he remembered and forgot stuff all the time, it was all so weird. So, he was probably very much not okay.
“That’s fine. I bet it’s gonna take time. And a lot of therapy, probably.” he added the last sentence quietly, but Bucky heard it anyway. Sam moved away from the doorway, closing the door behind him, and coming over to sit at the table. He moved so confidently, as if he knew this place well, and as if they were just old friends chatting. As if Bucky couldn’t kill him in one swift move. “We should probably talk.”
“About what?”
“Steve and I have been looking for you for a while.” he started, but Bucky interrupted.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t know what they were going to do to him if he went back. He barely remembered his childhood and Steve, and chances were he’d forget what he remembers soon. The memories were there, but they weren’t solid, and it was so frustrating. “And no Steve.” he added after a pause. He wasn’t ready. Steve knew the old him. The old him who was dead. He wasn’t the same guy, and he wasn’t sure how Steve would treat him or react to him. Besides, again, his memory was tricky.
“Okay.” Sam nodded a couple of times, clearly in thought. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything rash. But, well, I found you. So what are we gonna do about it?” he asked in a tone that suggested he really did want to discuss it and get Bucky’s opinion and he wanted to know what Bucky wanted to do. He couldn’t remember – ha, funny, he couldn’t remember shit nowadays – the last time someone asked him that. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cared what he thought.
Slowly, carefully, his eyes not leaving Sam’s relaxed posture, he took a seat opposite him. Sam treated him like a human being, despite knowing who he was and what he did, or at least some of it. Bucky could entertain this conversation for five minutes before fleeing once more.