(This is before CACW)

"Sir?" You stepped closer to the bench where a man was leaning against the wall, passed out. You had seen him there before, just never unconscious like this.
You had been coming to the American History museum everyday for almost a week, in order to acquire as much information as possible for your research project. He was always there, and always in the section dedicated to Captain America and the Howling Commandos.

"Sir?" you repeated, lightly tapping his shoulder, "Are you alr-" You couldn't finish. As soon as you touched him, his eyes snapped open. Seemingly faster than light, his gloved hand gripped around your wrist with vise like strength. His bright, grey-blue eyes glared intensely into yours, searching them.

"Woah! What are you doing?" you exclaimed, trying to pull your arm away (a useless endeavor, really), "Let go of me!"

He was on his feet instantly. Now towering over you, he held your limb at an awkward angle, causing you to grimace. You squeezed your eyes shut and your knees buckled at the pain. "Please!" you opened your eyes again to look up at him as you begged.

A sudden flash of realization came into his eyes. He immediately released you, letting you drop to the floor, and brought his hand to his face. He looked down at you with an expression of absolute sorrow. Gazing into his eyes, you could see a hurt seemingly deeper than the Marianas Trench.

He sputtered, "I... I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened." He held out a tentative hand to help you up, which you took (however nervously).

"Um, it's okay," you began, trying to figure out what had just happened. You dusted yourself off, then rubbed the sore spot on your arm. "Are you alright?"

The corners of his lips turned up slightly. "Don't you think I should be asking you that?" He glanced at your forearm.

"Oh," you chuckled halfheartedly, "I'm fine. See?" you stuck your arm foreward, "Just a little red."

He nodded and there was a sort of awkward silence. Not sort of. It was a really long, awkward silence. Neither of you knew what to say after the strange event. Apparently, the man took this as his cue to leave. Without a word, he turned and began to walk away.

You stared after him for a second, wondering how anyone could just leave a conversation like that. "Hey, wait a second!" you called, pushing past a few people to catch up to him. He looked down at you, confused. "You never answered my question."

He tensed and broke eye contact. After he had stared at seemingly nothing for a few moments, you prodded. "Can you at least tell me your name? I'm (Y/N)."

"Bucky Barnes." He offered a handshake.

"Nice to meet you," you said.

"What happened back there wasn't exactly what I would call 'nice'." He hung his head a little. He kept walking and you followed.

"So, do you like reading about the Howling Commandos?" you asked after a short pause.

He looked to be thinking hard about the question, or maybe remembering something. He nodded yes.

"Nice. I do too! I'm researching them for a project I'm doing. I found some stuff on the Internet, but I mainly just come here for an excuse to look around the museum."

Bucky still said nothing. You noticed that he kept looking around. Over people's heads, down that hallway, over his shoulder. It was like he was searching for something. You decided not to ask about that.

The two of you came to the museum exit.

"It was nice talking to you," you said, trying your best to be friendly even though he hadn't said much. "I'll see you tomorrow."

A look of confusion flashed across his face for barely a nanosecond. He smiled a little, "See you tomorrow."