Bucky was heading back to the University from another round of shopping. He didn't know if or when the school might take them somewhere else (though if the pattern continued, it wouldn't be long), or if they would ever see this place again. So he could only hope the supplies and food he'd collected for the Pokémon would still be around when things changed again.
A voice from around the corner made him stop short. There was no mistaking that voice, not for him. Not even after seventy years of brainwashing and torture. The next words confirmed what he already knew, and Bucky whipped around the corner, metal fingers letting out a shriek against the stone as he used it to bank sharply.
"Steve."
Naked relief shone in his eyes. It wasn't the way he'd last seen Steven Grant Rogers, white haired and old, but the shock of the beard was enough to give him pause, if only for an instant.
He caught the scent of blood, but that was pushed aside as a secondary concern. His arms went out and he wrapped them around his best friend in a tight embrace.