Chapter Two:
Bucky

This is either the best idea I've ever had or the worst.

I'm inside the Smithsonian museum, following the signs that direct me and a crowd of several other people towards the Captain America exhibit, all the while trying to shield my identity from those around me. The hat I found vacated on a table outside a Starbucks, as well as my other stolen clothes, help in disguising me, but I grow more paranoid every time someone's wondering gaze lands on me. It's hard to blend in when you're tall and broad like I am, or when you have a metal arm, which is mostly hidden by my shirt, except for my hand. I have it placed firmly in my pocket, and I make a mental note to myself to buy gloves. I also stick out because my demeanor is all wrong. Everyone around me is pleasant and filled with wonder as they look around at the many exhibits, while I walk stiffly with a scowl on my face. I need to loosen up, I need to relax.

This is a horrible idea...but I'm already here so might as well go through with it.

It feels like an eternity has passed, but I finally make it to the Captain America exhibit. It's not what I expected. Honestly I don't know what I expected, but I know I didn't think it would be so...big. This exhibit seems never ending, like it could be a museum all by itself. Looks like if I want answers this is the perfect place to find them, there must be an abundance of information about Rogers. And there just might be some about me as well.

Only one way to find out.

The first thing that sticks out to me in this exhibit is the giant mural painted on the northern most wall. In the center of this mural is Steve Rogers, his expression stoic and heroic as ever, and by his sides are the faces of several equally stoic looking men.

My face is one of them.

The face looks a little younger, has shorter hair, no facial hair, but there's no question that it's my face. In fact, my face is everywhere. I see it flash in videos playing on monitors, in pictures attached to boards and plaques, and in a couple more murals throughout the exhibit.

I really did know him.

I didn't doubt that before...but seeing it for myself makes the truth of it feel more real.

I spend hours walking around the exhibit, reading about Rogers, learning about his past. He was born in 1918 to Sarah and Joseph Rogers. They both died before he went off to fight in WWII. He had enlisted for the military several times but was denied every time, that is until a scientist from the SSR recruited him. After a successful experiment with the super soldier serum, he went on to become Captain America, the legendary hero who fought against the Nazi's and HYDRA for a few years before sacrificing his life to save innocent lives from dying.

And I was at his side through all of it.

According to one of the museum plaques, were 'inseparable on both school yard and battlefield'. We met as children, were friends throughout school, we both enlisted in the army together, though I was the only one excepted. He apparently saved my life after I was captured by HYDRA in 1942 and I fought by his side until 1944 when I 'fell to my death in an Austrian ravine during a mission to capture HYDRA scientist Arnim Zola'.

There is an entire section of this exhibit dedicated to my death, my 'heroic sacrifice for my country'. It details the mission, the object of our mission, Arnim Zola, and the aftermath of my 'death'. A funeral was held for me when the war was won, in attendance was my 'fellow Howling Commandos', several high ranking American government officials, including President Truman, and my family.

My family.

It says I had a mother, a father, two sisters, and a brother.

I had a family.

I try to recall their faces, but I come up with blanks. I try to recall any memories from my childhood, from these missions Rogers and I did together, from my 'death'...but I can't. Everything from my past looks and sounds familiar, but it feels like the memories are trapped inside a thick cloud of fog, and I'm unable to fully make them out and see them in detail. Some of the memories feel like they're just within reach, but the fog still makes it impossible for me to fully remember, and that makes me grit my teeth in frustration, in anger.

I hate that I don't recognize the sound of my own name, I hate that can't remember my memories growing up with Rogers, I hate that I can't recall the faces of my family, the sight of my mother's smile, the sound of my sibling's laughter...

I hate that I can't make it through this fog.

A fog HYDRA created.

When I was captured by HYDRA in 1942, the exhibit says I was a test subject for a couple experiments. Whatever they gave me possibility allowed me to survive my fall during the mission to capture Arnim Zola...

An image floats into my mind of a short, balding man with round glasses smiling down at me, and I recognize that face as Arnim Zola. I had another memory of him appear a few days ago, right after I confronted Rogers and he called me by my name for the first time. In the memory he was surrounded by people in lab coats, they were working on my metal arm, and he told me I would be 'the new fist of HYDRA'.

He must have found me after I fell off that train and did something to my mind to make me forget. Is that what that electric shock chair was for? I was forced into that thing and electrocuted after I was taken out of cryo for every mission...I never questioned why...maybe this was why. They needed me to forget. They needed me obedient. They needed me to be their killing machine.

They needed the Winter Soldier.

I feel my fists clench in my pockets, my teeth grinding together. I don't think I've ever felt anger like this before. A couple days ago I was fighting and killing for the people who ripped away my identity and my life. A couple days ago I nearly killed the man that I grew up with and fought beside. A couple days ago I was just the Winter Soldier...who am I now? I'm not the Winter Soldier, but I'm also not James Barnes. I'm something else, not even someone else. I'm like a ghost, a lost soul with no body, no name, no purpose, and no memories.

All because of HYDRA.

I may not know who I am, but I know who I want to be. I want to be James Barnes. I want to be the selfless, dashing hero I just read about. I don't want to be HYDRA's killing machine. I don't want to spread fear like the Winter Soldier did, I want to spread hope, just like James Barnes did.

Just like Steve Rogers did.

If I want to be James Barnes I need to get my memories back. I think my memories will just come back to me in time, but they would probably return faster if I had my memory jogged by people from my past, but everyone from my past is dead except Rogers, and I can't face him now. Going to familiar places might help as well, but I don't know what places would be familiar to me and once again, Roger is the only person who could tell me. It makes me wish there were more museum exhibits I could visit, somewhere were I could just read about my past like I did today.

I feel my tense posture relax a bit as I'm hit with a realization. My memories from my time before HYDRA aren't the only memories missing, some of my memories from during HYDRA are missing as well. Huge blanks in my mind that I can't fill, just more fog. But HYDRA's kept records throughout their reign of power, a lot of which are still in Asia and Europe. I can find the records on me and regain the missing memories from my time in HYDRA, especially my early days at the organization, and maybe more memories will start to come back. Maybe once I start sifting through the fog, the fog will start to dissipate on it's own.

Worth a try.

If I'm going to go on a wild goose chase to regain my memories I'll need to get supplies, some weapons, a new identity. The safe house I was assigned is in Erdenet, Mongolia, I think that should be my first destination. From there I'll search through every HYDRA base I come across and sift through this damn fog and get my old self back.

This might be a worse idea than coming to the museum today. I just learned that HYDRA has enslaved my mind and body for decades and now I'm going to not just one, but several of their bases? I could get captured, my mind reset, or worse I could be killed. There's a good chance I might be.

But I refuse to stay a ghost with no past or future. I'm going to fight to regain my memories, my identity, or die trying.