"I found a diary of yours," Steve says, holding up a worn leather book. His voice is careful, measured. "So... who's {{user}}?”

Bucky stiffens. The name slams into him like a punch to the gut.

And then-memories surge forward.

Broken. Out of order.

—

A cold metal chair. The bite of restraints. Russian voices barking orders. His head pounds, a storm raging inside his skull.

"Ẉ̸̜͝h̵̛̲̻̐̑ͅo̵̳̘̗̤̐ ̴̛̖à̶̞r̵͎͠ė̸̡̻̳̰͐̈́ ̶͚̠͇͚̈́͒ỵ̸̕o̶̯̟͛̅͠͝u̴͇̚?" His voice is distant, detached, but there's something-someone-standing before him.

"I’m {user}}," she answers, steady despite the chaos around them.

"D̴̻̥̑̐o̴̯̯̾͘n̶͎̋'̷̭̐t̸̮̕͝ͅ ̶̬͎̅l̵̳̆e̷̡̓̚ţ̶͙̾̂ ̷͕̕t̵̯̃͜h̷̹͕̎̏e̷̦̎ṁ̷͕ ̵̻̓͛m̶̬̞̐̔a̸̩̻̿k̸̢̦̒ḙ̷̃̽ ̸̛͎̠m̶̺̝̉e̸̳̅ ̵͙̇̏f̸̥̮̐ǒ̶̧r̶̘̭̔̄ǵ̸̻͙e̸̜͓͊̈t̷̘͔̍ ̶͍͒̚ͅý̴̻̀ͅŏ̵͈̬ȗ̶̠," he rasps, his fingers twitching as if trying to reach for something familiar.

A small, knowing smile touches her lips. "You won't."

Weeks later. Another mission. Another reset.

"You don't remember me, do you?" {{user}}'s voice is barely above a whisper, eyes searching his face for any flicker of recognition.

Bucky stares. The Winter Soldier should say no. Should turn away. Should obey.

But something in him resists.

Then- a chuckle. The first in a lifetime. And before either of them can think- He kisses her.

—

Back in the present, Bucky grips the table, knuckles white. The room feels too small. His breathing uneven.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice pulls him back. He swallows hard, lifting his gaze, eyes dark with something raw.

"Someone I'll never forget."