Chapter Text
It’s a flash of blonde hair and a familiar looking smile, and it makes Bucky’s heart stop. He knows that face better than the one that they plastered amongst various posters and billboards, the one that is still featured in the Smithsonian. He had known that face vaguely, a target and then not a target anymore, but this face. This face he knows only in softness, in winter nights spent huddling under a blanket with their arms wrapped around each other and all their clothes still on. This face he knows from dragging out of alleys, from cleaning up on the kitchen table to clutching close to him, begging him to please be careful.
The face on the billboard is Captain Steve Rogers, but the man he can see through the window? That’s his Stevie.
But Captain America couldn’t just die. If Captain America just died, any trust that the public had placed in him, in his image, would be gone. They’d demand answers. There’d be a crisis.
So Bucky had stepped in. How much can one tell beneath that cowl? Or with the suit on? Not much. Bucky was an easy replacement, however hard going it was at first.
But now he’s stood outside a fucking Starbucks feeling as vulnerable as ever. Captain America dropped off the map but there he is, he’s right there, his Stevie, just waiting for him. Bucky hesitates, staring at him through the window, and then he sucks in a breath, and heads inside.
He gets stuck in a queue with two or three people in front of him. Enough time to decide what he’s going to order, and to study Steve like a hawk. And it is him. It’s not some horrible coincidence. It’s him, and he’s there, and it says it right on his name tag:
Steve :)
Bucky tries not to crawl right out of his skin with impatience as he waits, creeping up the line slowly, hoping to god that he doesn’t get the other perky brunette server. He needs to see Steve. He needs to tell him to come home. He needs--
“Can I help you?”
That same deep voice, those same blue eyes. He smiles, but it wobbles, and Steve frowns. “Are you okay? If you need to sit down, I--”
“Steve.” He gasps, the name tumbling from between his lips in a rush. “I’m--”
“You should really sit down.” Steve insists, part confused and part concerned, shifting a little behind the counter.
“Steve, you have to come home.” He says, ignoring him. “The others-- they’re going to be so glad I found you. Steve, Stevie, c’mon. We need to go.”
Steve stares at him, face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I have a home. Maybe you should just sit down, I’ll bring you some water--”
The blood drains away from Bucky’s face, heartbeat pounding in his ears, everything else becoming distant. Steve doesn’t remember. Steve doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t remember anything.
This is it. This is the karma coming back to bite him in the ass for all those people he killed, this is his punishment. And here he thought all those wipes were the punishment but, no, this is it. This is some divine punishment for doing something awful. Either that, or a nightmare, because how? How can he just get Steve back to lose him again? It’s not fair.
He tries not to cry, head shaking. “I- uh-”
Steve hurries around the counter and takes Steve’s arm, allowing him to lead him over to a table in the corner. Bucky takes a deep breath in, and another, and another, until he’s not too close to hyperventilating anymore.
“Stevie,” He says, laying a hand on his arm when he returns. “Stevie, please tell me you remember.”
“Remember what?” Steve asks, confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Remember me. Remember us. Remember everything, please.” Bucky begs, but he doesn’t really know who he’s begging to, Steve, or God. “Please, you have to--”
“I’m sorry.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to be working. But if you need anything just tell me, okay?”
And then he goes, and Bucky is left to stare after him. He doesn’t touch the water that Steve brought him, and instead, he leaves. He can’t stay, he can’t keep watching Steve. Instead, he calls Natasha. There’s some surveillance to be done.
~*~
They tail Steve right through the streets. He walks, either too poor for a cab or just liking the stroll, and Bucky watches the hitching of his chest closely. This is Steve from before the serum, plain and simple, and from the inhaler-shaped lump in his pocket, he has just the same problems.
And he’s wearing hearing aids. Hearing aids, which surely means that he’s been out and been into the world like a functioning adult. It all shocks Bucky, but he doesn’t know why. He should be used to horror by now.
“I know this building.” Natasha squints, when they settle on the rooftop across the street. “Oh my god.”
Once Steve has disappeared inside, and been gone for a few minutes, she swung down from the rooftop they were on, scaled a few windowsills and walls, and landed with a gentle thump on the pavement. Bucky, meanwhile, fell like a stone. Regardless, they both ended up in the same place.
Natasha pressed one of the buttons by the door, and was greeted with a “Yeah?” Bucky knew that voice, he was sure. Barton.
“Barton you better let me in before I climb up there and skin you.” Natasha said, her voice clear, and oddly calm, though each word carried a sharp edge.
Apparently, Barton got all that, so he obviously had his hearing aids turned all the way up. There was a buzz, and they were let into the building, Bucky following Natasha through the building.
Clint’s waiting for them when they get there, the front door open, his hands up in mock surrender. “he doesn’t remember anything, okay? And I was gonna tell you guys, I really was, but--”
“But what?” Bucky hisses. His metal arm whirs, and he clenches his fist tightly, trying not to swing at the archer. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“He needed some time to get his head together, alright?” Barton asks. “Sort himself out. He didn’t remember a thing, c’mon. I wasn’t gonna pounce on him and tell him that he’s my good buddy ol’ pal Captain America, was I? He’d have laughed in my face!”
Natasha works her jaw, grinding her teeth, and Bucky huffs. “Which apartment is it?” Bucky asks. Barton looks like he’s about to protest, but Bucky fixes him with a glare so strong, he quickly changes his mind.
“Downstairs, third along. 4a.”
Natasha gives him a small nod, but Bucky has already gone, marching out of the room and down the stairs. The other two follow, but when Bucky goes to thump on Steve’s door, Natasha presses a hand to his fist, pushing him back. She knocks twice, and they wait.
The door swings open to reveal Steve, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, glasses perched on his nose, and he blinks. “...Hi?”
Bucky’s knees threaten to go weak. Natasha smiles. “Hi.” She says. “Steve. We need to talk to you.”
~*~
“I don’t... I don’t remember any of that.” Steve answers, head shaking. “I woke up with these, but I--”
He pulls over a shoe box, and he takes out his keys, and a sketchbook, and a photograph. He sets them out, and he picks up the sketchbook, flipping to one page. It’s Bucky, but from before the war, his head dipped, hair in his eyes, and his smile wide.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” Steve asks, and Bucky gives a stilted nod.
“You used to draw me all the time.” He says, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “Knew me from memory.”
Steve’s cheeks colour a little at that, and he looks away. He points to the photograph. “This is you too, huh?”
It’s a one of those dumb photobooth photos, just one from a reel of four, a picture of him and Steve. Sometimes, after Bucky came home, he had good days. This had been one of the good days, the two of them huddled together in a photobooth. Whilst on the others Bucky seems a little bit uncomfortable, on this one he’s looking at Steve like he hung the moon, and Steve is looking at Bucky pretty much the same way.
“That’s you too.” Steve says, not a question, but a statement. He taps the photo. “Who’s that?”
“That’s you.” Bucky says, voice wavering. “It’s you.”
Steve shakes his head. “I don’t remember.” He murmurs. Bucky looks up at Natasha and Clint, pleading. He doesn’t know what to do.
“We have some friends who might be able to help.” Natasha says. “To help you get your memories back. If that’s what you want.”
Steve looks up at her, and he casts a glance to Bucky. “Yeah.” He says. “That’s what I want.”
Natasha nods, and pulls out her phone. She taps it a few times, and brings it to her ear.
“Stark? Get Banner. We need you in the lab.”
Steve looks up at Bucky, considering, and Bucky tries to give him a smile. “It’s going to be okay.” He says. Steve doesn’t seem convinced, but he nods.
Bucky says a silent prayer; he needs Bruce and Tony to fix this. He needs his Stevie back.