Chapter Text
He dreamed.
He remembered this man...
…
He saw his own face beside him in the museum.
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He remembered him.
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Dreams... flashes... glimpses...
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But he was smaller.
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He fell... and then pain.
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A man, talking to him, smirking.
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“Bucky?” - “Who the hell is Bucky?”
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“Wipe him and start over.”
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“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” - “Hell, no! The little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him.”
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Brooklyn... a dingy home... a small guy... Rogers... he remembered him.
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He remembered him.
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“Steve?” - “I thought you were dead.” - “I thought you were smaller.”
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“I'm with you until the end of the line, pal.”
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Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes... Bucky Barnes... Bucky...
He startled awake, gasped for air. He was alone and it was mostly dark in his motel room. Only the street lamp shone through the bathroom window and a small band of light fell onto his bed. He wiped his face and took a deep breath. Again this dream. Always this dream. Since they were gone, since they didn't wipe him anymore, the dreams have started. Always this man and in his dreams he knew him. He remembered him but when he awoke everything was gone. Almost everything.
He knew that the man, Rogers, was Captain America and that he had been his best friend, long time ago. The sign in the museum said that. And he started to remember him. He knew him.
He knew him.
His name was Rogers. Steve Rogers. And he was his.