He doesn't flinch but it's a near thing. Something swirls unhappy in his gut, a dread that has been sitting stagnant for weeks upon weeks. They did something to him and his vague memories are nothing to the darkness of his nightmares.
And here is a man with his face and a metal limb and Bucky doesn't know what to do with that.
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And here is a man with his face and a metal limb and Bucky doesn't know what to do with that.
"You're me."
His voice is dull, flat. "You are, aren't you?"