𝐖𝐄'𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒🌌 ˚･ﾟ/ ❝and if you are alone, that is the quietest most personal hell. and james, it's very hard to escape. so, now that you've stopped fighting; what do you want, james?❞ ❝peace.❞ / [ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 ]
┏━...
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─ ･ ｡ﾟ✪: *.🌌.* :⧗ﾟ. ─
The harbor was relatively busy, and Bucky stood for a time, disoriented, looking around. There was joyful noise, and many of the men who had come home from the war were greeted with affection by their girlfriends, wives, and families.
"Well, what about you, Buck? Is that woman of your heart waiting for you?" came a good-natured laugh in his ear, and then a strong hand fell around his shoulders, squeezing him and pulling him close. Bucky looked back - in the naive hope of seeing Steve beside him, even though the two men had completely different voices - and saw a laughing, close-cropped soldier in his mid-thirties beside him. One eye was swollen and part of his face was disfigured from burns, but he was laughing at the world.
"I have no idea," Barnes answered truthfully because he didn't know. He knew this had never happened. It was the end of the war, and the soldiers were returning to their homes. But he hadn't experienced this. He didn't live to see the end of the war - that is, he lived to see it, but only because he was subsequently made a super soldier, a murderer, a Hydra agent. He became Winter Soldier. He'd fallen off the train on his last mission in 1943, and he couldn't go home that way...
"Well, I don't see your beautiful little girl anywhere," said an unidentified soldier who seemed to be his friend. He chuckled as if he'd made a hilarious joke, and patted him on the back. "You should probably wait here until things clear out a bit, then go home. And if you find her there in the arms of her lover, you can join us lone wolves and go to the pub to celebrate the end of the war properly. What do you say?"
"Yeah, that's certainly... an interesting idea, I'll think about it," Bucky told him vaguely, also looking around. His beauty girl? For God's sake, he didn't remember any. He hoped that if she did show up here, she would find him herself. The soldier bade him farewell and went in search of other solitary existences to take under his wing. Bucky grabbed his duffel bag and sat on the nearest bench, his legs threatening to buckle. He had to remember.
He sat down and looked a little lost at the happy and relieved faces he saw all around him. Come on, remember, he urged himself impatiently, for a time was running out inexorably, and his girlfriend could appear here at any moment. He'd look like an idiot if he just stared at her and didn't recognize her. He hurriedly began searching his pockets. Identification tags clinked to his neck, stamped with pieces of information about him. From his right pants pocket, he pulled out a shabby leather wallet with identification. He opened it - and it felt like his heart had missed a beat. With trembling fingers, he pulled a photograph of a young woman from a transparent pocket. My girlfriend. Beautiful women with close-cropped, curly blonde hair and piercing green eyes.
