Hello Sergeant (Bucky Barnes)

museum

James' POV

Natalia kissed me before she left us as we walked out of the restaurant to Sarah's car. "I'll see you all later. Have fun."

I watched with amusement as she kissed Jace's cheek before hugging Sarah. Natalia had changed much to allow herself to become close to others. I knew that she considered Sarah to be a friend; I wasn't sure what her relationship was to Jace. It was an interesting blend of mentor/student and something more than friend but less than lover. Natalia was a beautiful woman; I could see that he was interested in her even though he knew she was out of his league.

We climbed in the car, Jace gesturing for me to take the passenger seat while he chattered away with Sarah. I found myself to be content to just listen to their conversation as we drove, absorbing their dynamic, learning more about the both of them. My silence concerned Sarah, though; I saw her glance over at me often, her golden brown eyes troubled.

She pulled into a parking space and we got out. Sarah looped her arm through mine and smiled at me as we walked up the stairs to the museum. It was huge, and she let me set the course through the many exhibits, subtly steering me in the direction she ultimately wanted me to go.

Thankfully, this early in the morning there weren't a lot of people around and we pretty much had the place to ourselves. I knew when we had reached what they had brought me here to see by the look they exchanged. Jace dropped back, following behind me and Sarah. She took my metal hand in hers and leaned close to murmur in my ear.

"Don't be alarmed, James. We brought you here so you could maybe remember some of your past, when you were known as Bucky."

I looked around and saw old pictures of men that I had supposedly known a long time ago. My eyes were drawn to one in particular, a small blond man in an old American uniform, WWII era. This man was familiar to me.

"I know this man, Peggy; I just don't know who he is."

"What do you know about him, Bucky?"

"He gets sick a lot. He doesn't know when to walk away from a fight. He's an artist – you wouldn't believe how well this kid can draw." I felt a smile growing on my face.

"That's Steve Rogers as you knew him, Bucky," she said quietly. "He's your best friend."

"Steve." I said, feeling the name on my lips, trying to fix it in my mind. Little snippets came to me as I looked at the image, flashes of memories, good and bad.

"Do you remember anything else about him?"

I did. It took me a little bit to string together the words to tell her about him, but when I did, they kept coming of their own volition. "He's always cold, even in the summer. He can't dance to save his life, no matter how many times I try to teach him." I smiled down at her, holding on to that memory of me with my arms around a skinny guy, trying to teach him how to dance as he tripped over his own two feet.

She grinned conspiratorially. "He still can't; go on - what else do you remember?"

"He doesn't have anyone but me – his Ma died of tuberculosis right after we graduated high school." I pulled her into my arms, needing her to anchor me as things started to get fuzzy. It was a little harder to pull the whole memory from my mind. "We got our own place and I worked two jobs to be able to afford his medicines."

"How old were you then?" She leaned her head on my chest, slipping her arms around me.

"18, no - I was 19. We lived together until the war started and I joined up."

"You may have told Steve you enlisted, but your number shows that you were drafted, James."

"When I found out how much I'd be pulling as a Sargent, I quit arguing. We'd be able to afford all of Steve's medicines and he'd be able to finish art school."