Disclaimer: I own nothing; Credit goes to Marvel and pilot-star on Tumblr.

This fic is based off a comic made by Pilot star.

A/N This has been updated.

Just asking, does anyone adore the quote from the book thief, "if your eyes could speak what would they say?"

Why isn't the Steve/Bucky ship called Starbucks?

I can't be the only one….

Adventures with Bucky: Symbol

Hydra Base, 1943

No smile was visible on Bucky's face as his eyes wondered over the unfamiliar reflection of his new metal arm. He couldn't remember what happened to his previous arm. He did remember the uncomfortable feeling of falling, then pain; then only darkness. The sudden feeling of sadness suddenly brought the soldier into confusion, for he did not know what caused frowned as he pondered over what these strange feelings could mean. Pain he knew, pain he would always know, but he couldn't remember why.

"Test your arm please," The man behind Bucky said, not lifting his head away from his clipboard. The man was always writing.

Before Bucky could even register what he was doing he found himself lifting his arm and squeezing his fingers. He had to follow orders…hat's all he knew how to do. Yet he couldn't help but listen to that small voice in the back of his head that told him not too. His eyes flickered towards the clipboard man, still scribbling down notes. Slowly he lowered his new metal limb to his side before letting his eyes fall back to his reflection… He didn't recognize what he saw, he knew it was him, but somehow it wasn't.

He saw his face sadden as he traced the scarring off were metal met flesh. His eyes flickered back to the clipboard man, who was watching him intently.

Slowly, Bucky let his hand slide down the plated metal of his new arm. He could feel the coldness of the metal as he traced his fingers along the plates. His arm could somehow feel the softness of his skin It proved to be both a curse and a blessing.

His hand stopped at his shoulder, flashes of a sliver wing upon blue entering his mind.

Bucky's eyes saddened.

Sadness…

"What is it?" asked the clipboard man, once again scribbling notes.

Bucky frowned with confusion. He wasn't asked questions. still, he descried to answer, eyes not leaving his reflection.

"Something's missing," Bucky answered as he tried to figure out what this strange silver wing meant.

"Like what?" The man asked as he wrote.

"…I don't know," Bucky answered, his hand slowly leaving his shoulder. "A symbol or something?" Bucky questioned, not quite understanding what this all meant. "I don't know," Bucky said again. "Maybe," Bucky mumbled softly…almost childlike.

Hydra Base, 1943

Bucky soon found himself being shoved into a chair; his metallic arm being fussed over with some sort of paint. When they were finished, he then found himself being pulled to his feet forcefully. He stood, seemingly emotionless as the Hydra assistant's clothed him with different sorts of leather attire, none covered his left arm. Probably so his arm wouldn't be restricted.

"He is ready," said one man, to no one in particular.

Rough hands soon shoved him towards the cracked mirror again. Bucky frowned at his reflection. He didn't like it, he wasn't sure what really made him hate it so much, but he did hate it.

Then he saw it, a blood-red star and freshly painted, slap bang in the middle of his left shoulder. It reminded him of an unwanted tattoo…he couldn't remember what that meant, but it felt like an accurate description.

"How is it? Better?" asked the clipboard man from behind him. Bucky's eyes flickered to where the man was standing. He held a strange leather mask in his hand.

"No," Bucky answered firmly, his right hand drifting to the red star. It wasn't what he wanted. The images of the silver wing flickered through his mind again.

Without warning the man stepped forward and clamped the mask onto to Bucky's face. Silenced like a dog that barked too much. Was that what he was, a dog that had barked too much.

"Well too bad. It's all you're going to get," The man said, almost smirking.

Bucky would have sighed had it not been for the mask. Nothing was ever his choice. Bucky lowered his head sadly, seeking comfort from the silver wing.

Smithsonian, 2014

Bucky pulled the baseball cap further down his head as he stepped into the Smithsonian, his brown leather jacket pulled tightly around his shoulders. He slowly made his way through the crowds of people, stopping at every exhibit. He found the one about Steve's transformation most confusing. The one about Bucky Barnes even more so. It was him though; he believed Steve now…

Hands still in pockets, left hand hidden from sight of unsuspecting civilians, he observed the large banners of Steve and…him. They looked happy; in full uniform and everything. He did not read the information on the side, his gaze fixed on something else.

A small sliver wing pinned to Sergeant James Barnes...his left shoulder, and one on Captain America's helmet. So that's what it was. Bucky thought as he self-consciously clutched his left arm to his side, fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve for any sliver of comfort.

And so he stood there. Gaze fixed on the symbol, the symbol he needed; not some blasted red star. A single tear trailed down his cheek. He knew what sadness meant now.

The symbol he needed now wasn't the wing, it was Steve, and he was going to find him.

Avengers Tower, 2017 (Post Civil War)

"All done, and no charge," Tony smiled as he backed away from the chair in which Bucky was seated. As he rose to his feat he spared a glance to Steve who was trying to conceal a small blush.

Slowly he approached the large mirror that started at the ceiling and ended at the polished floor. He smiled to himself as his fingers touched the familiar pattern of caps shield, now located on His left shoulder. No more Red star.

"Are you done admiring yourself yet, Magneto the second?" Tony joked as he placed a smiley face magnet onto Bucky's arm."

Bucky frowned. "Who the hell is Magneto?"