“Steve?”
“I’ve gotta put her in the water,” his voice cracks as he says it.
“Come on, Barnes” Carter urges. “There has to be another way. I can get Howard, he can help you land-”
“Peggy,” he stops her, using her first name for once. “This is my choice.”
Her silence is filled with radio static.
“Don’t- don’t let him become a symbol, alright? Steve would hate that, to be turned into something he isn’t,” he pleads, knowing she understands.
“What about James Barnes, then? What about Bucky?” his heart breaks for the tears she isn’t letting herself cry. It’s not him she’s mourning.
“I’ll do anything to keep that kid safe,” he says, his own voice coarse with emotions and his eyes filled with tears he won’t allow to fall.
“Then Steve Rogers never even made it into the army.”
He almost sobs in relief to know that she’ll keep Steve safe when he can’t.
“We should go out sometime, you and me. Go and get us some drinks, give a few toasts to ‘im,” he says out of the blue.
“Stork Club, Saturday at twenty-hundred hours. Don’t be late, Barnes,” she scolds.
“With you waiting? I wouldn’t dare, Carter.”
He’s only met with static and the endless sea of ice and water.
“I’m coming home, Stevie,” he whispers, giving a hoarse laugh.
The plane hits the ice; cracking through and continuing it’s descent. The glass in front of his face shatter and water rushes in. There’s a roaring in his ears and it’s so fucking cold and-
“Who the hell is Steve?”
“Sir, you can’t call us back. We still haven’t found Steve and-“
“We have sensitive information from the prisoner Captain Rogers gave his life to apprehend, we don’t have time to retrieve a body, no matter who’s it is.”
“Who the hell is supposed to lead the Commandos then? We have to find him!”
“I guess you’re getting promoted then. Now go get your team rounded up and report back here immediately.”
“Sir?”
“Now, Captain.”
“What the hell was that?" Natasha scolded harshly. She knew he’s a better fighter than that.
“That was Steve…”
Sam leaned forward. “Wait, you recognized that guy?”
“Steve Rogers,” Bucky supplied in a broken voice.
“Barnes, how do you know the identity of the Winter Soldier?”
“We grew up together,” he closed his eyes. “He’s dead. I thought he was dead.”
“Then how did HYDRA get a hold of him?” despite her bleeding shoulder and the fact she had been captured by the enemy, Natasha’s face was impassive.
“He was in the war, in the Commandos, but he fell. I watched him, he fell hundreds of feet he couldn’t have,” he cut himself off before his voice cracked.
Steve was alive. Steve was alive. Steve was alive and he didn’t know Bucky at all.
“How is that possible? That was like seventy years ago,” Sam asked, his voice cutting through Bucky’s rushing thoughts.
“The serum,” he whispered to himself. He glanced back up at Sam and Nat. “He had the original serum. The real serum. I got a knockoff from when I was captured, but. He must’ve survived the fall,” his heart was pounding against his ribcage as he said it. Steve hadn’t died.
“How does nobody know this? They declassified Captain America in the 50s, when your identity went public. Wouldn’t that have gotten out too?”
He gives a wry smile. “Peggy Carter. She burnt Steve’s records when she created SHIELD.”
“How do you know?”
He looks Natasha in the eye. “I told her to.”
“Barnes! What the fuck were you thinking?” Gabe yells over the wind, holding Bucky by the arms.
“Let me go! Let me go, I have to go after him!” he screams.
“Get a fucking hold of yourself, soldier!” Gabe pushes him into another car of the train then shoves him to the ground. He pins Bucky’s feet too the ground and his back against the wall.
The Sergeant is sobbing and babbling incoherently, his whole body shaking as he struggles against the hold.
“What happened? Where’s Cap?” he asks quietly, but Barnes’ sobs only get more violent as he just shakes his head. His eyes widen as he lets go of the other man’s limbs and backs off, only to lean against the opposite wall. “Shit.”
Barnes doesn’t respond, and his body stops shaking so violently as his crying turns silent.
“Shit,” he repeats as he fumbles for his radio. “Man down!” he speaks frantically into it. “We’ve got a man down, oh my god,” he pulls his finger off the call button and tries to get his thoughts together so he can process what the fuck was happening.
“What? Jones, what the fuck is going on down there?” Dugan’s baritone crackles through the speaker.
“Captain’s down. I repeat, Cap’s down. I found Sarge and he was about to jump out of a fucking hole in the fucking train and Rogers wasn’t there. Rogers had- Barnes was trying to go after him.”
“Fuck,” is the only reply he gets.
Fuck indeed.
"I'll be honest, if Rogers got the serum would definitely have thought he would have been bigger," Sam pointed out after Hill had rescued them and was leading them to a safe house. Bucky's head shot up to look at him with wide eyes.
"You're right, he got huge after the serum, but that's what he looked like before. Last time I saw him, he was three times that size," he left the what the hell did HYDRA do to him? unsaid.
"It wasn't your fault," Natasha cut in, throwing Barnes a sharp look.
He looked away but refused to reply.
"It wasn't your fault, you know," Peggy's sharp tone slices through his melancholy.
"You weren't there, Carter," he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips, only to find it empty. He forcefully shoves it back onto the blackened table. "You didn't see it."
"Rogers gave his life for you, don't take away that choice from him. He damn well must of thought you were worth it."
He wasn't.
"Steve was everything. He deserved everything," he choked out, revealing far too much with six words and a broken voice.
Natasha and Sam glanced at each other and then back at him. Their eyes were full of sympathy without pity. Bucky had no idea what he'd done to deserve friends as great as these.
"Grab my hand!" Steve shouts, barely audible over the wind whipping through his hair.
Bucky's shoulder is screaming as he holds onto the side of the train for dear life. He painstakingly inches himself closer, trying to reach Steve's outstretched hand.
The metal bar that stopped his plummet into the icy terrain below groans under the weight and he feels his stomach drop from his throat to his dangling feet.
"No!" Steve screams as the metal begins to tear away. He lunges forward and grabs onto Bucky's fingers, pulling with all his might.
He throws Bucky back into the train, but has no chance to follow. He has nothing to hold onto to stop his plummet.
"STEVE," Bucky screams, scrambling to the edge of the gap in time to see the man's rapidly descending body grow smaller and smaller, any further words or pleas stuck in his throat.
"STEVE!" he repeats, as if his hoarse cries will return the Captain to his side.
He’s only answered with the wind roaring in his ears.
“We’re not saving SHIELD,” Bucky interrupted whatever bullshit Fury was spouting out. “HYDRA was there from the beginning, we have to burn it all.”
He refused to cave on this. The whole organization was rotten, whether it was HYDRA or SHIELD it didn’t matter. They were so intertwined it was near impossible to tell the difference in some ways. Fury could kiss his ass for all he cared about keeping SHIELD around, they had done enough damage. There was no room for a “lesser of two evils”. This wasn’t politics, this was war.
“Steve, this is just about the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with,” Bucky pushes the map he had handed him away.
“You say that every time,” Steve purses lips in an attempt to keep a wry smile off of his face.
“That’s because your plans keep on getting stupider,” he growls, giving Steve the meanest glare he can muster, which is probably pretty pathetic, but no one mentions it. “You’re planning on jumping from a mountain onto a moving train. What part of that sounds like a good plan?”
“The part where it’ll work?” the blond man shrugs, not bothered by his companion’s exasperation.
“You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days,” he whines (not that he would ever admit it) loudly, slumping into his chair.
This time Steve doesn’t attempt to hide his shit-eating grin.
He was standing in the helicarrier with Steve across the walkway. Bucky was unsure how well he could fight in the stiff navy blue coat he had stolen from the Smithsonian, his original uniform. It wasn’t made for mobility, it was made to keep him form freezing his ass off while he watched Steve run into the fight and narrowly avoid getting himself killed (until he did and he still couldn’t do anything but sit and watch.)
“People are gonna die, Steve. I can’t let that happen,” he started in an attempt to put off the inevitable. Steve doesn’t move.
“Please don’t make me do this,” his voice broke on the plea. He didn’t know if he had it in him to hurt Steve, small or big. The thin figure in front of him just pushed back his shoulders, his metal arm plates shifting.
In that moment, Bucky almost wished Steve had died when he fell from the train. He hated himself for even thinking it.
Steve didn’t move, so Bucky threw the shield.
It was a whirlwind of movements. Somehow Steve, Steve in this form, small and delicate, was pushing Bucky harder than he’s ever fought before. He realized he had to stop pulling his punches if he wanted to be able to do what he needed. His heart broke a little at the thought.
He managed to pull the targeting chip out, but was fumbling for it’s replacement when he was tackled again. Soon, they were both going over the railing and onto the platform below. The chip slipped from his fingers, but he had no time to retrieve it before he was grappling with Steve again. Steve fought smart, agile, in the way he couldn’t all those years ago. Before the serum it was all inelegant punches and cheap shots below the belt. Now, he fought like a hurricane. He was faster than he had any right to be, using his size to his advantage to overwhelm his opponent. If it weren’t so terrible, it would almost be beautiful to see the sheer amount of raw power trapped in that tiny body.
Bucky managed to jar him a little with a hard hit to the face, but the next time he pushed against Steve he ducked and hit the side of Bucky’s face, pushing him so he was nearing the edge of the platform. He barely managed the grab the chip as he slid down.
He managed to stop himself before he fell to the glass dome below, only to look up barely in time to stop Steve’s metal arm from hitting him again.
Steve twisted his arm so he dropped the chip. He could hear it clanging against the metal as it dropped below them. He took Steve’s momentary distraction to tackle him. Steve got on top of him, but Bucky was able to kick him off, causing him to slide and follow the chip to the floor.
He took a moment to breathe and search for the chip, his enhanced eyes frantically searching until he found it.
He dropped onto the glass and ran.
Bucky fell to the floor, a sharp pain in his back as he realized Steve had thrown the shield. He barely managed to grab it before he was being shot at, the bullets deflected by the metal.
The moment there was a break and Steve began to rush forward, he threw the shield as hard as he could, but Steve deflected it with his arm and pulled out his knife.
He was blocking the best he could. He tried to push the silver arm away, but the metal plates recalibrated and the knife was forced through his jacket and through his skin. He cried out in pain, lashing out wildly to get Steve off of him.
Steve threw him to the side and went to pick up the chip.
With a hiss, Bucky pulled the knife out and grabbed Steve’s wrist as his flesh fingers wrapped around the metal square. He grabbed Steve by the throat, feeling bile rise up in his own as he raised him into the air and then slammed him to the floor. He pulled Steve’s arm back.
“Drop it,” he insisted, not wanting to do any more damage than he had already done. “Drop it!” he repeated, pulling until he heard a sickening crunch and Steve screamed, still refusing to uncurl his fingers.
Steve twisted so Bucky was on his back and Steve on top of him, allowing Bucky to wrap his arm around Steve’s throat and scream I’m sorry’s in his mind as if they would make up for everything he’s done. Steve fought, groaned as he attempted to pry Bucky’s arms off him, and made pathetic choking noises that reminded him all too well of an asthma attack in the 30’s, but didn’t loosen his fingers until he was completely unconscious.
Bucky dropped Steve’s limp body and leaned over to grab the chip, shooting away as fast as he could before the helicarriers started firing or Steve woke up.
He made it up to the lower platform, almost to the one holding the chips, when a sharp pain flared in his back in time with a gunshot and with a grunt he dropped to the floor. He only paused a moment to look behind him and see Steve’s standing form, arm outstretched and a smoking pistol in his hand. He continued to climb the metal structure. More shots came, but he didn’t look back.
“30 seconds, Cap,” he heard Hill say into his ear as he rolled onto the metal walkway that held the targeting chips.
“Charlie lock-“ he began to say before another gunshot rang through the air and he fell to the floor, white-hot pain spreading through his gut.
He sat there a moment and had a fleeting thought about how fucked up his life was before slowly forcing himself to stand and reaching to place the chip.
It clicked in place. “Charlie lock.”
He collapsed onto the floor and brought his comm to his face again. “Fire now.”
“But James-“
“Do it!” he shut down her protest before she could even begin. They didn’t have time for this.
The world started exploding, everything going up in flames as the Insight Helicarriers destroyed one another. The floor shook as he scrambled up to lean against the rail.
He heard a scream as everything fell apart and managed to focus his eyes enough to see Steve trapped under a fallen support structure.
He rolled off the edge and let himself drop onto the unforgiving metal, pushing himself to his feet. Steve was staring at him, his eyes wide with terror. He stumbled forward as Steve grunted with the effort of attempting to free himself, but lost his footing as the world shook around him. He could hear Steve trying to push again, but to no avail.
Bucky crawled over and got his hands under the metal to start lifting, grunting with the effort, and dropping it the moment Steve pushed himself free. The sound of the large metal piece hitting the floor rang through the dome, echoing in their ears. He lifted his head and turned to Steve as he struggled to stand.
“You know me,” he said, looking into Steve’s wild eyes.
“No I don’t!” he cried, swinging his metal arm to hit the shield. Bucky ended up with his face pressed against the floor. He got up.
They both stood there a moment, attempting to get a steady footing as the world burned around them.
“Steve, you’ve known me your whole life.”
With a desperate shout Steve swung his arm again, once again forcing Bucky to the floor.
He got up again.
“You’re name is Steven Grant Rogers.”
“Shut up!” a broken scream as another hit landed on his shield, not doing any worse damage but to aggravate his other injuries and knock him to the floor again.
Bucky pulled off his helmet and stood to full height, towering over the Steve the same way he did all those years ago.
“I’m not gonna fight you.”
He dropped the shield, his one weapon, his only protection. This was Steve. He would die for Steve (Steve died for him).
“You’re my friend,” he said as if that explained everything. Steve glared at him, a mix of emotions on his face Bucky didn’t have the energy to decipher, before lunging at him with a yell.
“You’re my mission,” Steve snarled as he began to pummel Bucky.
“You’re. My. Mission,” he cried in time with the hits. He pulled back his arm a final time, letting it hang in the air.
“Then finish it,” Bucky pushed out, thinking of the simpler time when these words were said, so long ago.
“’Cause I’m with you ‘till the end of the line.”
Steve’s horrified face stared at him, but there was no chance for a response before the world dropped out from under him and he was falling, just like Steve did.
He wondered, for a brief moment as he watched Steve hang in the air and shrapnel burn around him, if this was what it felt like when Steve fell from the train. He wondered if it was almost the same, except instead of surrounded by ice he was surrounded by fire.
He wondered if Steve would appreciate the irony.
SeargeantJamesBarnes3255703SergeantJamesBarnes32557038SergeantJamesbarnes32557032
“Bucky!” a voice pierces through his daze. It’s familiar, so he wonders for a moment if he’s dead.
Someone’s tearing the straps off of his arms and pulling him upright.
“Steve?” he mutters as he squints at the face of his rescuer. “Steve,” he repeats with a sigh of relief to see his friend. Maybe it's just a hallucination, he thinks briefly, but how is he off the table?
“I thought you were dead.”
Bucky gets a good look at Steve. “I thought you were smaller.”
An explosion goes off in the distance.
“Come on, we’ve gotta get outta here,” Steve brings Bucky’s arm around his shoulder and helps him stand.
“Did it hurt?”
“A little,” and wasn’t that just the fucking lie of the century. Even drugged up and half out of his mind Bucky knows that there’s no way Steve “I had 'im on the ropes” Rogers is gonna tell him how much it hurt, but he has an idea of it anyway.
“Is it permanent?”
“So far.”
He woke up with a groan, because everything hurt. It felt like his bruises had bruises. It took a few minutes, but he managed to open his eyes.
“On your left,” he croaked. Sam turned and gave him a grin.
“How you feeling?” he asked, because even if it was obvious Bucky had gotten the shit beaten out of him Sam is unendingly polite.
“Like I fell out of a plane without a parachute.”
He didn’t ask how they found him, he didn’t ask how he survived, and he definitely didn’t ask if anybody had seen Steve.
He knew the answer already
“Pick on someone your own size,” Bucky pulls the asshole off of Steve so he could hit him in the face.
He kicks him between the legs as he runs away.
“I had 'im on the ropes,” Steve wipes blood from his face and glances up at him.
“You get your orders?” he asks, standing up as straight as his crooked spine will allow.
“Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th,” he says, waving his papers. He wraps his arm around Steve and pulls him against Bucky’s pristine uniform.
“Come on, we’re going out tonight,” he says, letting Steve free from his grip.
“Where’re we going?” Steve asks, walking with and eyeing him suspiciously.
“The future.”
James Buchanan Barnes has only ever felt he was good at one thing, and that's protecting Steve. After going too basic, he learns he's good at two things: protecting Steve and shooting people. He knows which one he prefers.
It was time to protect Steve again.