The Ghosts of Your Past

III

"When I was a young man, I had liberty..."

--Assassin's Creed: Embers

The wound on Bucky's thigh itched terribly as it healed, the flesh already mending itself by the time the SHIELD van made it back to headquarters. He could see Steve and Sam standing outside at the entrance, both of them chatting casually as they waited for the van to pull up. Bucky didn't wait for the van to reach a complete stop before he was opening the door and stepping out of the stifling vehicle. He saw a smile appear on Steve's face as he approached the two men.

"Hey, Buck. How was your trip?" he joked, attempting to get a chuckle out of the stoic soldier.

"I was unconscious." he replied dryly, not in the mood for small talk. But the way Steve's face fell made Bucky feel slightly guilty at his tone of voice. He mumbled an apology as they entered the compound that served as home base for SHIELD and the Avengers.

"Did Agent Berg explain what happened?" Sam asked, noticing the already healing cut on his face. Bucky shook his head, not letting them see how much it confused him that he had ended up in a civilian hospital instead of the medical bay at headquarters.

"Apparently the civilian paramedics picked you up on accident. We called our own, but they got to you first." Steve explained, shaking his head at the odd mix up. Bucky grunted in acknowledgement.

"At least they did their job well." he mumbled, resisting the urge to scratch at the healing wound on his leg. It was packed well and bandaged tight but not too tight, obviously done by a professional and not some fresh-faced intern.

"So, did you see any cute nurses?" Sam asked, nudging Bucky's metal arm in jest. He almost flinched at the contact of Sam's arm on his, but he didn't let it show.

"No, I was unconscious. Remember." Bucky replied stiffly as they made their way over to the lounge area. Vision and Wanda were laughing about something only the two of them could hear. The sight of the budding romance between them made Bucky's mood go even farther south. He felt it was rather annoying how they pranced around, filled with love and what not.

"Come on, man!" his attention was drawn back to his two friends as Sam looked at him in disbelief. "Didn't you flirt with every nurse during the war? That's what Cap said."

"It's true, Buck. You made passes at a lot of the nurses in the infirmary." Steve chuckled, the nostalgia making him smile. But Bucky remained quiet, not wanting to let them know that he couldn't remember a lot about the war. He remembered things from before, like going to Coney Island and spending all of their train money trying to win a stuffed bear for some dame he couldn't recall. But he didn't remember any nurses.

"There was this one doctor..." he started, hoping to move the conversation away from old memories he had no recollection of.

"Nice, a doctor." Sam laughed, "Details, man!"

Bucky sighed but complied with his friend's urging. "Blonde, average height, pretty but a little too enthusiastic." he explained like he was relaying the details of a mission, no emotion other than slight boredom. "Abigail, I think that's what her name was." he added as an after thought, remembering the name on her badge when she had signed his release forms.

Sam shook his head at his friend's dismissive tone. "And what? Not your type?" Bucky shrugged with indifference, however a deeper part of him said that she may have been his type a long time ago. Before, he probably would have asked her to dance in a heartbeat, but now he found the bubbly attitude and chipper sounding voice grating. It got on his nerves in a way that made him slightly ashamed. He understands that some people are lively and tend to see the world through rose colored glass, maybe he did once upon a time. But that's not who he is now. He's suffered too much to find the world lovely anymore.

"Fine, if you're not interested I may have to make a doctor's appointment." Sam smirked, waggling his eyebrows smugly as Steve shook his head with an amused smile. Bucky felt a genuine smile tug at his lips at his friend's sly joke, but the itching returning in his leg caused him to sigh tiredly. He excused himself, telling the two men he needed to get his wounds checked in the infirmary. But as he took the elevator up to the med bay, he paused before stepping out, choosing instead to go up to his room. He could check his own injuries just fine, plus he was tired of seeing crisp white lab coats.

His room was gradually starting to become less sparse than it had been, mostly due to Steve bringing him things to decorate his room with. Various nick-knacks that held no real meaning other than that Steve got them for him. Books lined the shelves of his bookcase, some left untouched, while some had been an attempt but were left unfinished.

There was an old photo of his sister, Rebecca, that Steve had dug up from the Smithsonian exhibit. He told him that he was in the process of getting more pictures for him, hoping that they would help him along with his recovery. But whenever Bucky would look at the picture it would cause a headache, one that wouldn't go away for days.

Bucky picked through the bowl of fruit sitting on his kitchen counter, skipping over apples and pears until he found two little purple fruits hidden away at the bottom of the bowl. He smiled as he bit into one of the plums. One of the things SHIELD was good at was supplying its top agents with whatever they wanted, and Bucky always had fresh plums in his kitchen.

He wasn't sure why he liked the fruit so much. Maybe because it was the first thing he ate after he had gotten away from HYDRA. His diet was strictly managed when he was under the organization's thumb, so he was never given any luxuries like fresh fruit.

He munched on the other plum as he removed his jeans to check his leg wound, unbinding the white gauze carefully from around his thigh. A few drops of blood oozed from the injury due to him putting weight on the leg, but otherwise was fine. The holes were nearly closed, his regenerative ability working into overdrive to heal up the leg as fast as possible, but it would still take a couple days for it to heal completely.

Bucky silently scolded himself about the wound as he re-wrapped it. It was a simple mistake that got him shot. A gang of shooters were holding up the Bank of Manhattan, and he was called in, along with Wanda and Sam, to help with hostages. His attention was drawn away for only a second, but it was long enough for one of the shooters to fire at him. He would have been fine if it wasn't for the three story drop that had knocked him unconscious.

Bucky looked down at the bandaged wound, his brow furrowing as he remembered the feeling of fingers grazing the tender skin. He had lied when he told Sam and Steve that he had been unconscious the whole time, he could vaguely recall a voice, multiple voices actually. But one stood out from the rest; a woman's, soft, murmuring quietly as those fingers moved over his leg. He heard a name as well, almost shouted in his ear. Madeline. His sharp hearing could barely pick up the whisper of his name coming from her lips before a heavy thud sounded and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Bucky shook away the thoughts of the woman's voice and did his jeans back up, being cautious of the bandage on his thigh. He checked his other injuries in his bathroom mirror. The cut on his face was already healed up, the stitches starting to embed themselves into his skin. He gathered the first aid kit from under the sink and fished through it until he found a pair of surgical scissors, using them to clip the stitches so he could remove them. Same with the cut on his right shoulder. The graze on his side was still fresh and tender, but would heal over by the next morning.

Due to his few hours of unconsciousness, Bucky had felt rather well rested. Deciding to use this rare moment of free time, he gathered up his new journal and wrote down the events of his day. Starting with the bank hostages and ending at his memories of the woman's voice. He even wrote about the blonde doctor who discharged him from the hospital. Anything that seemed important he wrote down, including the strange sensation of cold hands on his forehead and chest he had felt at the hospital.

A/N: Hello all! I hope I didn't write Bucky terribly, I haven't really written in third person before so I'm still getting used to writing for characters other than my OC's. Also, Bucky and those plums killed me when I was watching Civil War, poor baby just wants some plums! lol Anywho! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote and comment! Xoxo