Steve held his hands up in a placating gesture--a calming show of his palms, as if to say I'm no threat. He stepped forward again. "It's me. It's Steve."

The Bucky in front of him looked a little better than the one he'd battled on the airship--the one who had pulled him out of the river, then fled. The one he'd imagined finding. This Bucky still looked terrified--like a mangey hare about to take off at any moment. Steve didn't want that. He wanted his friend back. He'd do whatever it took.

"Yes. Well. Yes, there's a museum." He admitted it sheepishly. "What do you mean... I used to call...?"