Chapter 30

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Song: Deep Water by American Authors

☆☆☆

"I can't find my purpose
when I don't know what
my worth is."

☆☆☆

Three days later. . .

Bucky sat on a park bench, admiring the little pamphlet from the Captain America exhibit. It wasn't quite the same feeling as having Steve there but it still had his face on it, and that was close enough.

He went back to the exhibit every day, trying to memorize every small detail of every relic on display all the way down to how Steve tied his boots and packed his rucksack. The museum curator would always give him an odd look as he entered the building, and today was no different.

Bucky was quite proud of himself, for he'd now mastered the moving staircase and was able to step onto it just as everyone around him did. He followed the crowd into the exhibit, assuming his usual routine of admiring each and every object, article, and video at his expense.

He was trying to memorize each of the Howling Commandos' outfits when he felt a bump against his leg, knocking him off of his center. When he looked down a child was staring up at him, eyes wide; she couldn't have been a day over ten or so and unlike most people upon looking at him, she didn't seem scared at all.

"Hi, mister," she piped, eyes lighting up with a bright smile. "Are you a fan of Captain America too?" she asked.

Though he was taken aback by her abrupt question, he nodded. "I might even be his biggest fan," he said, smiling slightly.

The little girl shook her head. "Well you can't be because I am," she said, then squinted up at him. "You look just like that guy," she said, pointing up towards one of the Howling Commandos' outfits. Oddly enough, she pointed to what Bucky had learned was his old uniform, a portrait of his face painted just above it.

Pain panged deep in his chest, knowing he was "that guy" and wishing he could remember being him. James Barnes seemed to be far more fun than the Winter Soldier, anyway. Bucky gave a small shrug. "Maybe we're related," he suggested.

The girl tilted her head, looking from the portrait back to Bucky. "Yeah, maybe. I hope they find him, then Steve and him can be best friends again."

I hope they find him. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, his heart skipping a beat. "There are people looking for him?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Oh yeah, loads of them came in here this morning when Nanna and I got here," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "I don't think I was supposed to hear them though, 'cause they looked at me all mean when I said I heard them whispering," she continued, making a pouting face. Bucky's heart lurched in his chest, dread filling his bones.

Hydra was here.

They were looking for him.

Bucky peered over his shoulder, spotting several tall men in what he knew to be S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms heading directly his way. If he had any chance of escaping he had to move, and he had to do it fast.

Bucky raced out of the exhibit, hurrying down the escalator as fast as his legs could carry him. He should have known it was a bad idea to come to the same place every day, he should have expected to be busted by now. How stupid was he to do such a thing? How had he gotten so caught up in learning about Steve that he'd forgotten to protect himself?

Terrible thoughts of what would happen to him if Hydra got a hold of him again crept into his mind, each one filled with images of unimaginable pain and suffering, dying a slow and painful death. He'd learned so much about Steve and about himself, and he never wanted to forget any of it ever again. He could not let Hydra get a hold of him, not again.

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