Work Text:
This is what you know: you have a mission.
You don't have a name or a history. You only have a mission, to do as Mr. Pierce commands. He has told you to kill for as long as you remember (he was younger once, maybe; you've never been awake long enough to remember for certain; situations and places and times change but you remain). You are a weapon, his weapon, as neat or as messy as the circumstances need you to be.
He points, you shoot.
Bucky--
This is what you know: the man on the bridge looks at you and he makes your body falter. Only just, only for a second but you forget your primary mission. You see something you don’t even remember. He is bigger than he should be, everything about him is bigger than makes sense.
But I knew him.
They fix your hand. They fix your memories into the blank canvas it is supposed to be, mould you anew and give you a new mission. You fight to remember him from before, from the bridge, but everything goes white and--
Steve Rogers is just your mission.
You know me.
No, I don’t!
This is what you know: you don’t know him, he’s your mission and you see him fall into the ocean. Your mission should be over. You shot him, earlier. It should be over.
You jump in after him.
Your body hurts but not going after him would hurt more. You know this. You have to follow him into the dark, because your body does not allow anything else to take place. You shot him, you hurt him and he hurt you, but you need to find him. You need to complete your mission.
If you are not there, Steve Rogers will drown. He will drown if you are not there to save him.
One of your arms is broken (Steve broke it; it will heal, eventually) and the other one is too heavy, tugging you down (there are good reasons why you don't care for swimming unless the mission requires it), but you go in deeper, following and trying to catch up.
When you grip him, you do it firmly but gently, because his body has always been frailer than yours. It's hard to be gentle with metal but you do your best. He is your mission and you always do best with your missions. You always succeed.
When you break the surface, you remember being a child: the panic because Steve didn't come up for air yet, that he came up only after you did, even though he's younger and his asthma makes his lungs hurt and you were so worried that you hold him so tightly that both of you go under the surface again in a mess of limbs. This happened then and this happens now, and you bruise his shoulder like you did then, angry and afraid and so relieved all in equal measure.
You hold his body against your chest and you listen for and then find a heartbeat. You synchronize your breathing to match his, or maybe you try to coax his breathing to match yours, as his heartbeat feels still too weak. No water in his lungs, you're sure of that.
The shore is not far but you take your time. Your arms hurt. He is heavier than he looks. He will be fine. He won't even remember drowning, won't remember your arms holding him upright.
You don't remember him beyond the scope of this moment, this mission. You remember everything about him, because he is as if he was your own flesh, an integral part of your being. You don't remember yourself.
This is what you know: your name is Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers is your mission and always has been, until the end of the line.