onlyapassenger | Part III: And Stealin' Coins is Not Really Stealin'

It's the fire that catches Bucky's attention, smoke curling up in the air so that he spots it from his vantage point in the trees. After having been led around the island by a chaperone the past couple of days, it's the first time he's ventured out on his own, and he couldn't be happier for the promise of something interesting lingering just around the corner so soon. Relaxing's fine in small doses, but he feels like he's been locked up for a lifetime between his clinic stay and the pervasive, dull ache in his ribs.

A doctor'd probably yell at him for climbing in his condition, but Bucky's gone off to war boasting worse injuries than a few lousy bruises. Besides, as far as he's concerned, his mind's in rougher shape than his body. No matter how many times he catches a glimpse of his reflection, he can't seem to get over just how old he looks, and try as he might to remember something -- anything -- about what happened after the war, he can't seem to get drag up even the foggiest of memories. There's just this wall in the back of his mind that he can't scale for the life of him, though at least he's in better standing than he was just a few days ago when he couldn't even remember his own damn name.

Following the smoke to find the fire, the trail leads him to a scrapyard that's clashes beautifully with the surrounding greenery, capturing Bucky's attention fully as he slips inside, absently mindful of any potential security. He's been told that everything's free here, but that doesn't mean that someone wouldn't want to protect their stash, and with resources so limited, Bucky's got to think that all this stuff would be worth the prettiest of pennies if goodwill suddenly fell aside to capital-G Greed.

Eyes finally lighting on the source of the fire, his curiosity's quickly swept aside by recognition. He doesn't know a whole lot of faces yet, but he'd be hard-pressed to forget any of the men who'd been around when he first woke up. Tony Stark's a face he'll remember.

"Wow," Bucky says, stepping closer to what he can only describe as some sort of experiment, expression rapt. "Should that be burning like that?"

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"Well, I know that you're the darb who gave me my arm back," says Bucky, brows raised. It's a pretty big favor to do for a guy, more so now that he knows they aren't usually too friendly. He wants to ask him why that is, but decides that's probably a question better left for Cap. "And I know that something's been stomping around in my head, which I gua-ran-tee--" He claps his hands on each syllable. "--ya more than steams me."

Then he shrugs.

"Everything else's a real jumble. I remembered the war a couple days back. It was like someone opened up my head and dumped everything inside -- just color and smell and noise. I know I got a kid sister at home and that I lost my parents a long time ago. But I don't remember how I got this--" He nods towards his metal shoulder. "I don't remember how I got old or how I came to be here. I'm missing half my life and I'm supposed to just wait for everything to sort itself out..." He smiles again, letting out a harsh sigh. "Makes me miss the war. Nazis are easy."

"I am that darb," Tony confirmed, while Barnes was still talking, mostly just because he thought darb was a funny word.

"Nazis do afford a certain degree of... straightforwardness," he said. No one cared if you made superweapons if you were pointing them at Nazis, after all. "Probably... best not to start wishing for them, the place is fond of curveballs. Which you know, what with the... brain problems."

"Is that how you got this?" Bucky asks, tapping the center of his own chest as he nodded towards the light shining out of Stark's. They might not be friends, but that doesn't do a damn thing for his curiosity. "Crazy island curveball?"

"The more conventional kind of curveball," Tony said, glancing down at his chest. "Caught some shrapnel during a war a little less straightforward than Nazis. Not a soldier, just... wrong place, right ambush."

"That's shrapnel?" Bucky asks, eyes widening in surprise. He barely resists the impulse to push forward and reach out for it. "Cripes, what'd they blow up?"

"The shrapnel's inside. This is is what's keeping it from my heart," Tony corrected, with a faint shrug of one shoulder. "Electromagnet. Whipped it up myself. Sane and relaxed scientist, like we said."

Staring openly, now, Bucky's struck by a sudden thought.

"...did you make this, too?" he asks, lifting his mechanical shoulder to indicate his arm. Though he's discovered a handy little switch to make it look and feel no different from his own skin, he finds he likes the reminder that it isn't real. Maybe it'll jog his memories.

"That one, sadly, I can't claim as my work," Tony said, taking a step forward to get a closer look at the arm.

Of course, he'd had closer, when it had been detached. But seeing it in action without the disguise -- and more importantly without the gun in his face -- was a little different.

"Not that I couldn't make one. Could. Didn't. The kung fu grip came included when you arrived, as far as I know."

Following Stark's line of vision, Bucky lifts up his arm in silent invitation to examine at will.

"I know motors and guns and one of my best pals is an android," he boasts with a crooked smile. 'Course, despite his less-than-natural creation, Jim's humanity was never in question. "I wouldn't have the first idea how to put something like this together. It's..."

He falters for a second, flexing his fingers. "...like something out of a pulp. Half man, half machine! Just wish I knew how I got the thing."

That would be strange, he supposed. He'd have been as confused to wake up and find an arc reactor in the center of his chest, with no knowledge of what it was, or how it got there.

And if he didn't remember that, he wouldn't remember- well, he had to be genuinely glad he hadn't yet been hit with the latest round of whatever this was.

"If it's an island thing, it will... probably clear up," he said. "You'll remember. If not, well, we are very smart people, we'll sort you out."

"If you're so smart, why can't you figure out the island?" he asks, a bit of a challenge seeping into his tone as he lets his mechanical arm fall back down to his side. "Cut out the middleman and fix this already?"

"If Einstein's so smart, why didn't he find the Higgs Boson?" Tony said. Not that that was an entirely appropriate analogy, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and Barnes probably wasn't going to know what a Higgs Boson was. "I am limited by the technology of my time. Place, actually. Not that I won't. Just... needs a little patience."

"How patient would you be if you were in my shoes?" Bucky asks. "Your best friend's about ten years older than you remember him being, you're sporting a few wrinkles and a shiny new piece of hardware for a limb, you're stuck on Robinson Crusoe's crazy island, and no one's got any decent answers. Not even Mr. Egghead with his... Higgs Boson, whatever the heck that is."

The only thing that had made any sense were the bruises. Being in fights was old news.

"...what is that, anyway?"

Part III: And Stealin' Coins is Not Really Stealin'

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