James 'Bucky' Barnes

Knowing things, the Soldier had come to realize, wasn't the same as remembering. Learning about them from the outside wasn't the same as having the sense-memory of a place or an incident or even a person.

He was slowly learning everything he could in the hopes that it would help him remember something, anything and it had, sort of. The memories that had been like minnows, scattering whenever he got too close, were now more like shards of glass, cold and sharp-edged buried in the back of his mind, where he knew they were there and that they were solid, but he couldn't pry them loose without hurting himself twice over.

Something else he knew was that while he may have been Barnes once upon a time, he certainly wasn't now, though he wasn't entirely sure of who he was instead, nor who he wanted to be.

He also knew that Rogers was looking for him. That had been one of the first things he'd realized, that almost as soon as the man had been cleared from his stay in the hospital -one that the Soldier was equally proud to have caused and appalled by causing- he'd gone looking. He'd even gotten close a couple of times and the Soldier had had to relocate, always near Rogers' apartment, always where he could keep an eye on the Captain. Not sure why he was bothering, except for the fact that Rogers was the one with the answers.

Perhaps he'd let himself get caught soon. He was doing alright for himself, he'd been getting by, finding clothes wasn't difficult, nor was making sure he ate when he needed to, but only when it was absolutely necessary, never before.