"Can I help you, sir?" asked a rosy-cheeked and very proud employee of the Smithsonian.

The young man in the shabby clothes and baseball cap jumped before he could stop himself and turned hastily towards the tour guide, hoping she hadn't noticed. She gave no indication that she had, merely looking up at him with a kind, cheerful smile.

"Is there anything you'd like to know about Sergeant Barnes?" she asked, motioning towards the nearby display.

The young man swallowed, licked his lips. "Yeah . . . I . . . it says here that his body was never recovered."

"No," the tour guide said with a sad shake of her head. "The division he was with put out several rescue parties, but it was hard to go back into that area afterward. Considering the distance he fell, it was probably reasonable to assume he was dead."

"I see," the man murmured, glancing at the picture of Sergeant Barnes, a handsome, bright-eyed young American in a smart uniform, his shoulders back and his head held at a high, confident tilt. Something twisted in the young man's chest . . . a dull, lonely ache.

"His family," he murmured. "They must've taken it hard."

"I'm sure they did," the tour guide said gently. "But I'm sure they were at least comforted by the fact that he died a hero. Have you enjoyed the Captain America exhibit?"

The young man forced a weak smile and nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Th—tha—I mean—what do you say when you're glad someone helped you?"

The tour guide raised her eyebrows, but to his relief she didn't seem to be making fun of him. She lowered her voice and whispered, " 'Thank you?' "

The young man blinked and glanced away, embarrassed. "Yeah. Thank you. Sorry if I bothered you . . ."

"Oh no, it wasn't a bother—answering questions is my job!" she said with a laugh. "Have a nice day."

And with that she touched his arm lightly. The young man flinched, expecting her to freeze in terror as soon as she realized that she hadn't just touched flesh and bone. But her fingers were on his arm for only a fraction of a second and then she walked away, eager to help another curious tourist.

Close call, he thought, and walked away from the display as quickly as he could without

attracting attention. Only when he was out of the huge museum and back in the soft spring air did he slow down. His left hand had remained in his pocket the entire time he was in the Smithsonian. Now his right hand slipped into his other pocket. He walked slowly down the Washington sidewalks, his head down and a tight frown creasing his high, wide forehead beneath the baseball cap.

So . . . Bucky Barnes fell from a train. And then what? He was picked up by . . . by . . .

The Winter's Child lifted his head with a painful wince. Thinking too long about this mystery sometimes made his head hurt so bad, he'd have to lie down and go to sleep. Couldn't afford to do that right now, not when he was this far from the underpass where he'd stayed last night.

Gotta get out of this crowd . . . they'll find me . . . can't let them find me . . .

The roar of Washington, D.C. was maddening. The Winter's Child wanted nothing more than to clap both hands over his ears and shut out the noise—but take that left hand out of his pocket, and he was done for. They'd surround him. They'd know him.

No, no, no . . . I can't go back, I can't!

So the Winter's Child picked up his pace. His ill-fitting sneakers flopped on his feet and his greasy, shoulder-length hair stirred in the April breeze; the metal hand remained shoved in his pockets. Shoulders that once squared in fierce, fanatical pride now slumped with the pain and confusion of a man without a name.

A man with red in his ledger.

A/N: This was originally the prologue to an attempted Captain America/Superman crossover that I haven't had a chance to pursue very much. It's in the back of my head, but it's not really going anywhere right now. The prologue, however, turned out much better than I expected, so I thought I'd just post it as a one-shot for now!

Poor Bucky...I'll be glad to see him reunite with Steve, hopefully in a much better frame of mind, in the next Cap film.