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You’re my friend.
You’re my mission.
Then finish it. Cause I’m with you till the end of the line.
When the captain falls, the asset grabs a hold of anything he can reach just in time not to fall with him. He watches as he falls, probably to his death, with no emotion.
Target eliminated. Mission completed.
But how can he be sure of that? From what his handlers told him; the man has survived much worse. Even with multiple gunshot wounds, he might have survived the impact with the water. The asset can’t fail his assignment, he never does.
Deeply engrained programming tells him he has to see him dead, to confirm there’s no sign of life. But something about what the captain said is undoing the programming. The asset can feel it, like fog lifting off of his brain. And the thought of finding the captain without a heartbeat makes his heart race in his chest.
The metal in his arm grinds as it adjusts to the weight. It wasn’t designed to hold him up like this. It has great power when harming through quick and efficient movements. But it quickly loses strength when too much strain is put on it.
The asset lets go.
When he hits the water, it tears his shoulder further out of its socket. He screams, but all that escapes him is a flurry of air bubbles. Breaking the surface, he takes a gulping breath. The pain dissipates slightly, but an ache stays in his shoulder as he moves around in the water, looking around for any sign of the captain. Debris hits the water all around him, sending waves and splashes in every direction, limiting how far he can see.
The asset could be hit by a piece of debris at any moment, dooming him to the same fate as the captain who is probably pinned to the bottom of the river.
No.
A voice in his head screams at him to find the blonde. To save him.
Drawing a deep breath, he dives back under the waves. He moves frantically in the water, looking for any sign of the missing person. The view is no better from here, with sinking parts of Helicarrier and air bubbles everywhere, but the asset can’t give up. He has to confirm the targets death.
With stinging lungs, the asset prepares to kick back up to the surface, when a flash of blue catches his eye. Kicking his feet, he goes deeper to investigate. With ever kick, he gets a better view of what’s ahead, and slowly a familiar face comes into focus.
The captain’s body is limp, limbs floating above his head, face peaceful with no sign of life. The water surrounding him is tainted red. There’s too much red, too much blood around them. Even under water he’s too pale and unnaturally still.
The asset wants to scream again, but no air is left in his lungs. He completed his mission, did what they told him to, why does it feel like he died too?
He can’t be left here. For the search and rescue to find after he’s already bloated and started decomposing. The assets seen it too many times, the captain deserves better than that.
Hooking his good arm around the other man’s chest, he kicks his legs to bring them back up to the surface. The added weights slow them down, so he tries using the limited movements of his right arm to help.
By the time they break the surface, the asset's lungs are screaming for air. Even after many gasped breaths, the weight in his chest doesn’t let up. The captain, he’d called himself Steve, was under much longer than he was. The lack of gasping breaths when they hit the air tells the asset all he needs to know. Steve’s body would’ve instinctively taken breaths, even when he’s unconscious, if there were any life left in him.
Shifting his grip, he now holds Steve by a shoulder strap and drags him to shore with heavy movements. The asset was never an emotionless machine. He felt every kill, every life that drained out of his targets, he never wanted it. But he did it anyway.
He knew they would take his pain away when he got back. Wipe the memory of the mission from existence. But this time, he wants to feel it, to remember it.
The asset avoids looking at Steve as he puts him down on the sand. His last memory can’t be Steve dead, lifeless, robbed of a lifetime because of him. The blood is already on his hands, the memory is too much without adding this to it.
A weak cough catches his attention, making him instinctively look down at Steve. He holds his breath, keeping his body completely still as he waits.
Another cough. And a small trickle of water running down Steve’s cheek.
The asset stares as Steve moves slightly as if trying to take a breath before coughing up more water.
Not dead. That’s good. Someone will find him and help him. He can be saved.
Without a second thought, he turns and starts walking away. They will find Steve. Probably airlift him to the hospital. They will stop the bleeding and bring every last drop of water out of his lungs. They will keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t develop pneumonia. It would be anything new to his body, but it would complicate his healing process.
Something stops him and he turns back around to look at Steve. What if they don’t find him in time? What if they don’t know how to help Steve? His body is so fragile, so familiar with illness and injury. Bucky is the only one who’s helped him through it all.
He moves without thinking. Back to Steve. Maneuvering his big, vulnerable body into a recovery position. Using the strength of his metal arm, he rolls Steve only his side before moving his leg and arm to support his body, so he won’t roll onto his stomach. The pain in his chest worsens as he watches Steve purge the water from his body. There’s so much, and it’s streaked red with blood.
He can’t help Steve without the use of both arms, so he grabs hold of his right arm, just like he’s done countless times before and pops it back in place, biting back the scream tearing at his throat. The pain melts away in an instant, settling at a dull ache that is barely there compared to the sharp stabbing pain he felt a moment ago.
Once Steve’s life isn’t in immediate danger, he starts working on the bullet wounds. It’s hard to access them through the suit, but he makes do. Neither of their suits will tear no matter how hard he tugs, so Bucky has nothing to use as a compress.
Using his bare hands, he applies pressure to the wounds, starting with the worst one in Steve’s abdomen. The pressure makes Steve bring up more clear fluid. It runs down his cheeks and into the hair behind his ears. Keeping his left hand on the wound, Bucky wipes at the water with his hand, so carefully he barely touches Steve’s skin.
Bucky’s stomach heaves at the knowledge that he did this to Steve, but he swallows it down for later. He can’t help his friend if he isn’t focused and in control of himself. Self control is the assets most important quality, he can do this without drowning in the pain and guilt.
One wound at a time, he stops the bleeding. He doesn’t try to touch the bullets, knowing that pulling them out could make it worse. They could be all that stand between Steve’s survival and him bleeding out in seconds.
It shouldn’t be possible to stem the bleeding with the bullets still buried in the flesh, but the serum helps, making Steve’s body heal around the foreign objects.
Finally, Bucky let’s out the breath he’d been holding. Steve will survive. Bucky didn’t kill him. He failed the mission, but he doesn’t care. This is his new mission, saving Steve.
He sits back, scanning Steve’s body for any other injuries. His eye is swollen and red from where Bucky hit him full force with his metal hand, Bucky can feel his knuckles aching at the thought. Most of the blood that was smeared on his skin was washed away by the water. The fabric is stained dark red around his bullet wounds, holes were torn straight through the sturdy suit like it was made of paper.
Bucky looks down at is own hands, covered in Steve’s blood. He was ruthless, putting everything he had into killing his friend. He would’ve if Steve was just a normal person. He wanted to, but he can’t remember exactly why.
You know me.
No, I don’t.
Bucky. You’ve known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.
Shut up.
I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my friend.
The blood-stained hands in his lap go blurry and his eyes start burning. When he blinks, water trickles down his cheek. This feeling is familiar. The knot in his chest, the pressure behind his eyes, and the choked breaths that escape him are all so familiar. Bucky can’t remember the last time he felt this. Would he even remember if he’d cried in the last seventy years? Is this familiar because he never stopped or because of a distant memory?
He makes no move to wipe away the tears, just lets them slide warmly down his skin. The release of emotion is refreshing, but the reality of the situation is also settling over him. What is he going to do? He can’t go back to Hydra, if anything is even left of them. They would wipe him again, make him an empty shell of a person that blindly follows their orders.
He can’t stay with Steve either. Steve is safe, but they won’t understand. How can he explain that they twisted his mind until he wanted to kill for them, but he doesn’t want that anymore? Even Steve would question that statement.
He has nowhere to go, no one to go to.
Bucky is alone in this, and it is so scary he finds himself longing for the numb nothingness that comes with Hydra’s torture. But no, he won’t do that anymore. This time he’ll make a different choice. He’ll walk away.
Helicopters sound in the distance just as Steve starts to stir. They will find him soon, and by that time Steve has to be the only one here.
Steve’s breath is even now, not erratic and labored like earlier. He will be okay.
He knows he doesn’t have much time left. But he wants Steve to know that he was here. Hydra isn’t big on accessories, and there are no loose parts on his tact gear that he can leave with Steve. It has to be something small, something only Steve will find. He taps himself down, looking for something, when his hand touches the knife in his thigh holster.
It’s slim and all black with a small red star on the handle, the winter soldier symbol. It won’t draw attention to itself like his other silver knifes. Steve will know this one. After all, Bucky tried to kill him with it.
No one will bat an eye at the knife if he tucks it into Steve’s suit like it was meant to be there. It will only be later, when Steve gets his suit back that he will notice it and know that Bucky stayed with him.
Then Bucky gets up, wipes uselessly at his eyes and leaves. He doesn’t look back, knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave, just keeps walking.