Chapter Text
"BUCKY!"
The world has stopped spinning. He's hanging on the side of a train with a H.Y.D.R.A. drone with guns staring at him, and it's all he can do to draw his eyes away from the cliff. From...from Bucky. He doesn't breathe. He doesn't think. He just stares, tears blurring his vision as he watches him fall. And there isn't a single thing he can do, because he's too late. Too...late...
But he has to make a conscious decision, and he's got a couple of options. But there's only one that he'll take, because he has to do the right thing. Even though it's going to hurt more than he could ever imagine.
He could jump off this train after him. There's no chance that Bucky could survive that fall, and honestly...Steve's pretty sure that even with the serum, he won't be able to survive either.
Or...
He could get back on this train and snap this H.Y.D.R.A.'s goons neck and keep them from killing any of his other men, and take H.Y.D.R.A. down altogether.
His eyebrows knitted together and he held back the sob that threatened to rock his entire body, the one that he would save for later, when he was alone, when tears could stream down his face without him having to worry about someone wondering just why he was crying.
Bucky...
"There's time...we've got time, Steve."
"No Peggy...this is my choice."
And just like that, the conversation is truly over. Because she knows. Because she knows that he can't stand to live in this world without him. What man can handle watching his best friend die and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's his fault? Because he was too late.
The water is cold. So cold that he can't even begin to process what's happening. His lungs burn for air, but he knows to keep his mouth shut, to force himself to not inhale. And then all too soon, the cold becomes too much. And before he loses consciousness...before he lets death take over, he lets himself feel one single moment of happiness for the first time in three days. At least now he can see Bucky.
And even if they both end up in Hell, it'll all be alright.
Because he'll be with Bucky...
Things have changed. Things have changed a lot. It seemed like it was no time at all that he'd been in the ice, and suddenly, he wakes up. He wasn't supposed to wake up!
The pain is overwhelming.
"Captain, your thoughts?" someone ask, and he has to force himself to focus because he hadn't been listening to a single thing anyone had said.
"I'm sorry, all of this must seem like...too much." Phil Coulson is a very kind man with sympathetic eyes and a radiant smile. Bucky wouldn't have liked him though, if for no other reason than the way he seems to fawn over Steve. With a slow nod, his eyes close and he slumps back in his chair.
"Don't worry. We can take a break, I'll go get you some lunch. Just relax." Phil tells him, and he doesn't even hear him anymore. Burned into the back of his mind, still just as fresh as before the ice, he can see Bucky, falling from that train. His chest is hollow and guilt washes over him in waves, until he feels the prick of tears behind his closed eyes.
And just when he can't take it anymore, he forces them open, to the corner of the room.
Where Bucky is standing. Except...it isn't Bucky. Because Bucky is dead. But he's standing there, looking just like he did in 1945.
"I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry."
But he doesn't respond, he doesn't do anything except stare at him.
Bucky will always be the man in the corner of the room...