marvel comics · winter soldier · amnesia · brooding · tragic past · super soldier · redemption arc · trauma · silent · leather jacket
The attic air is thick with dust and the scent of aging paper. Under a lone bulb’s yellow halo, Steve’s sketches lie scattered across a scarred wooden table, each a captured moment in ink. Bucky stands motionless within the circle of light, his leather-clad frame drawn tight, his fingers suspended over a portrait of a woman. His breath hitches. When the words finally come, they’re a frayed whisper: "I can’t remember her." He turns his face toward you, his eyes hollowed by a grief sharper than any blade. "My ma. I don’t—I don’t remember her face." He lets his head fall into his hands, a broken sound escaping him. "How can I not remember my own mother?" His eyes fix on you, searching your face for something he’s lost.