Archive of Our Own

The first time it happens, Bucky fell from the train. Steve jumped after him, trying to cushion his fall. It doesn't work, they both die. Bucky can feel his friend's heart stop beating when he fades away.

The second time, Bucky wakes up in their tent, thinking it was all a bad dream. Nothing changes. They both fall again.

Third time, Bucky picks up the shield again with a better stance. He avoids being blown off the train, but the shot instead echoes back and hits Steve. Everything goes black just as he sees the next shot aim at him.

Fourth time. Bucky doesn't pick up the shield at all. He's shot. The last thing he sees is Steve getting shot as well when he runs at the soldier screaming.

Tenth time, Bucky suggests staying behind. He stays behind on the cliff edge with Monty and Jacques, left to helplessly watch as the train encounters a problem and explodes on the tracks. The engine. He has no idea if Steve is on the engine car or not. The sound causes an avalanche. He suffocates under the snowfall. He's still trying to claw his way out of the cold when he hears the next explosion of the rest of the train cars vanish into fiery flames and ash.

He tries this trick the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth. Two avalanches, three falls, one time an accidental bullet hit him in the head. He doesn't know if Steve died with him each time, but he has a haunting feeling he did.

Twenty-second time, he gets on the train again. The whole team has noticed he's rattled, more than they've ever seen him. He shrugs it off and clenches at his rifle closer. Steve's got a funny, pale look on his face as he watches his friend sidestep bullets like he knows they're coming, he barely has a chance to punch any guard in the face because they're all on the ground before he knows it. It's a bloodbath. Bucky has taken the lead. He's memorized everything. Every move, every hit, every bullet, every single flash of color he already has seen before, practiced for. It scares Steve badly. He confronts his friend when they have the train secured, when Zola is on the floor and unconscious and Bucky is pulling the train to a halt. They have a fight. Bucky won't talk but he looks relieved that the mission's over, yet his movements are too sluggish, like he's been up for days, the bags under his eyes are dark and sagging, he almost passed out when they reached the main cabin. A sudden rockslide sends the train careening over the edge. The last thing Bucky sees is Steve desperately trying to reach him as their feet leave the ground.

Thirty-eighth time, Bucky sabotages the mission itself. The rope snaps. There's no way to get to the other side in time for the train. The Commandos begin the hike down. Slippery ice causes him to slip. Steve slips when he tries to grab Bucky's hand. There's raw terror in Steve's eyes when the captain notices he isn't screaming.

Fiftieth time. He's haggard. Steps out of his tent like a dead man, his movements shaky, every little movement setting him on edge. Out of raw concern for Bucky's wellbeing, the entire of the Commandos agree to cancel the mission. He was arguing with Dum Dum when the gun fell over, catching him square in the chest. Steve slips over the edge of the cliff trying to catch his body as he falls.

Fifty-fourth time. He sits up in his tent and starts to cry. He's lost his mind. He's falling apart. He doesn't know how to stop the pain, stop the loss, stop the hurt, nothing but death awaits him outside the tent and he's useless. Done for. Dead. It doesn't matter anymore. He rolls over in his cot and doesn't bother speaking when Steve tries to get him up. His listlessness causes a panic. Then an argument. Bucky won't move. He won't speak, he won't talk. Not at all. Bucky's still on the edge of the alps, lying in his tent dead already when he hears the explosion of the train. He puts a bullet through his head before the snow can come down on him.

Sixty-second time. He's shot himself in the head every time he's watched Steve die in front of him. Other times, he's watched himself die. This time, when he stirs himself out of bed, when he begins to cry again, fingers shaking, muttering to himself, when Steve asks him what's wrong, he tells him. He tells him about the loop. About the hell he had been living in. He leaves out the part about how Steve always dies with him. Steve is hesitant to believe him. He can't believe it. Bucky's lost count of how many days he's been living like this but it's enough to convince Steve when Bucky's sobbing like he never has been before. Steve promises it'll be okay. Every move is too careful. Steve keeps next to him, so close, so close. So close that the bullet goes through both of them.

Seventieth time. Bucky gave up trying to tell Steve again, but this time, he loses himself when the Commandos are joking around, having breakfast on the cliffside like nothing's wrong. Jim notices first. Tears are streaking down Bucky's face, his eyes listless and colored gray, he's having trouble breathing, coffee cup on the ground to keep it from spilling when his hands shake. When Gabe asks if he's okay, Bucky's teeth grit together and he just nods. When Steve asks, he can't hold back. He spills. None of the Commandos believe him at first. The tears get stronger, and when he's on his feet and pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, trying to explain, when he finally turns around after the last condescending comment telling him to "get a grip", he turns around and screams. Screams with his hands over his ears, his lungs hoarse, his soul tired and weak and heavy. When he moves to just jump from the cliff edge, Monty grabs his hand and pulls him back to the ground. They believe him now. For the first time in a long, long while, Bucky feels a glimmer of hope as the Commandos gather around with a fighting fire still in their eyes. They still go on the mission, everyone goes. No one is left on the Alps. No one is left behind. They all die when Zola pulls the lever, sending the train off the tracks. Steve wraps all four limbs around Bucky as tight as possible to shield him from the blow of hitting the earth. The raw force and weight crushes Bucky in his arms.

Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Lucky 77. Bucky pleads with the half-believing Commandos to just watch the train go by. The Commandos don't believe him this time around about the hell he's in. Monty stays with Bucky on the Alps after Steve decides it'd be safer for him to stay. Bucky watches as the train explodes. Monty's still wrestling the gun away from Bucky's head when the avalanche hits.

Seventy-eight. The Commandos believe him. But their faith falters when he asks them not to go on the mission. To let the train pass. To just watch it. Not move, not make a single move at all until the next day has begun. Steve has to knock him out himself to keep Bucky from causing an avalanche from how hard he was screaming. He wakes up in one of the tents, hands tied behind his back. He hears the explosion. Hands still tied, he jumps from the cliffside, Jacques still watching as the avalanche begins to hit.

Seventy-nine. The Commandos believe him. Their faith falters. This time Jim knocks him out because Steve just grabbed him and tried to shake him to his senses as he screamed and pleaded. He wakes up in the tent again. He can hear the train. He doesn't hear the Commandos. He doesn't hear a thing on the Alps. He feels nothing. He cuts the ropes around his wrists with the knife he had kept in his pocket and pulls the gun out from under his bed, shoving the barrel underneath his neck. It'd come soon enough anyways. The gun goes off. It takes him a moment to realize he isn't dead because Gabe is there, shoving the gun away from him, his eyes wider than saucers, a little pale in the face. He looks terrified at the blankness on Bucky's face. Bucky fights back, wondering if the man had been left to supervise him while the others go on the train. He's been under the snow too many times. He can't die like that again. He can't. He can't. He can't. He goes for the gun when Gabe begins to take it away again. When the man pulls the gun away and points it at Bucky's head, all he does is press his forehead to the barrel and close his eyes. Gabe took in a shattered breath of disbelief. When the man refuses to fire, Bucky grits his teeth and runs for the exit of the tent. He hears the train chugging in the cold air. He jumps for the ledge and closes his eyes. There's a whoosh. The slide of machinery, something metal. Wheels rolling. Something latches tightly onto his arm awkwardly. He doesn't shout when he feels his shoulder twist badly, bones cracking against each other. He's pulled upwards into the air, and then all of a sudden he's warm. It's quiet for a while. He's not falling. Not flying either.

"Pull us back." It's Steve's voice. Bucky startles himself out of whatever daze he's in. Wind rushes against his face, cold and undisturbed. The creak of machinery again. He can see over Steve's shoulder to the rope connected to the zipline he's hanging from. Dum Dum is pale in the face, his hands shaking as he pulls the zipline back to the safety of the ledge. Steve's holding him so tight, he can barely breathe. His left shoulder is burning, maybe dislocated, maybe broken from the grip that Steve must've had on him to keep him from going down the rest of the way. There are so many hands on him when he reaches solid ground again, people grabbing his arm, his jacket, his fucking neck of all things, anything to keep him from running again. The pistol that Gabe had wrestled away from him lay in the snow, forgotten, cold. When Steve touches the ground, he grabs onto Bucky like something dying. He shoves his nose into his shoulder and he can smell salt from the captain's unruly hair. Bucky can see the train moving away.

"The train," he whispers, his voice cracking in the distance, his shoulder burning but everything else was numb.

Steve pulls himself away just enough to turn his head around. He watches as the train begins to disappear. They don't have long. When he looks back to Bucky, he almost flinches. Almost. His eyes widen, his lip trembles, but his eyes remain on Bucky's face. Then they close and he shakes his head, making Bucky blink at him loosely.

Then he pulls Bucky back close to him. Bucky can feel his shoulder jostling from how tightly Steve is gripping onto him, holding him like he was just going to slip away. The train begins to slip away.

"How many times."

Bucky's breath is catching. It was Jim who spoke, but it was what everyone is thinking. The terror in their eyes, the realization in what they had just witnessed. They knew now. They believed him.

"... I don't know." His answer is the truth as he watches the train begin to disappear into the flurry of ice and snow and part of him sags. "... It's been so long."

He doesn't relax. He doesn't relax when the Commandos stay where they are, hopelessly watching the train disappear into the Alps. He can't relax. He piles the guns in a pile and then drops in front of the small gas fire they have going and waits, tense. The Commandos begin to move to pack up but stop when Bucky isn't. Steve is the first to sit next to him, asking him first about what would've happened if they had gone on the train. Bucky tells him. Slowly, one by one, the Commandos join him. They ask questions. The iterations he had been through. He watches the pale on their faces deepen as they keep countering ideas. What if they all went on the train. What if they packed up and left now. What if only these people went. What if they stopped the train before the fall. He had an answer for each of them. Some of them he didn't, but he guessed for them. The Commandos stopped asking sometime into the afternoon. Steve decided they'd stay on the cliff until the next morning, until then, no one would make a move. He suggested Bucky take a nap. He refused.

Night fell. Nothing happened. Little by little, he began to feel the stress fall from his shoulders. When he finally seemed to relax enough, Gabe asked if he could check his shoulder. It wasn't a break, but the relocating of his shoulder was enough to cause some pain. They burned the fire brighter, and Bucky began to see some warmth creep back into his bones. A type of relief. Almost euphoria. They were there. Safe. He was able to see the dark for the first time in days. Maybe weeks. Maybe months for him. He settled into the warmth of Steve's shoulder a little more and felt the blond's heart skip a beat or two at the contact. Steve wrapped an arm around him, and he felt the lips press into his hair as he began to relax. He could feel sleep. An overwhelming amount of exhaustion in his body. He hadn't slept for ages.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the first crack sounded. Within seconds, everyone was on their feet, yelling, shouting, running, grabbing things. Steve had his hand on Bucky's good arm, pulling him off the cliffside. Bucky could see the cracks splintering out from under his feet.

The ground drops. He can feel his heart breaking in his chest as the ground just vanished from underneath his own feet and then there's another hard jerk on his arm.

Steve caught him. Steve's always caught him, he's always, always caught him. His eyes are wide with their fright but there's a relief in them now, pressed onto his stomach from where he had dropped catching his friend at the wrist. Bucky can't see his face from the shadows in the dark Alps. He doesn't know what he'd see but he can see the ground underneath them cracking, the whole mountain starting to be swallowed whole.

What is this? The thought runs rampid in Bucky's mind, a twisted, convoluted desperation in his head wondering what he had done wrong, what he was doing wrong, why he couldn't save himself, why this kept happening over and over and over again, what had to be done for him to be free. What was the connection? What was the reason? What was he doing wrong?

It doesn't matter now.

He'll just start over next time. He's got no choice.

"What are you doing?!" Steve shouts when Bucky's fingers go lax around Steve's wrist. Steve's strong now, strong enough to pull Bucky straight up instead of just struggling to hold his hand in the snow. He does now, his grip strong and unrelenting as he pulls straight up and Bucky goes flying into the air with half a startled shout, Steve jumping to his feet and pulling him straight out of the air. His grip is tight, warm, so real that Bucky almost laughs when Steve wraps both arms around him and staggers back to the collapsing safety of the mountain.

They're running. They're all running. The Commandos with whatever they can carry, Steve's shield on his back, the grip on Bucky's arm stronger than ever as he shoves the brunet in front of him, struggling to stay on the collapsing trail. They don't have much time to talk but Steve manages to make room.

"The fuck were you doing?!" Steve's voice is loud. Sharp, biting, like it was in Brooklyn so many times ago. Bucky can't see his face in the dim lights, but he can make out the angry tilt of his eyebrows, the tight of his jaw as he spoke.

"Let go!" Bucky shouts back. He's on the inside of the trail, against the cliff wall, Steve barring him from the cliff edge in case he decided to try that stunt again. They stop underneath a stack of rock over their head, letting some heavy snow fall over the edge lest they get pushed along with it. The Commandos are screaming at them to keep running.

"What are you trying to do, get yourself killed!?"

"Get your hands off me- Steve-"

"Buck, you just tried to kill yourself, I'm not letting go of you!"

Bucky hisses in his face in return, shoving him away and then restarting their run down the path as the avalanche begins again. It's relentless. He knows they'll never outrun it. He glances at the drop over the cliff edge.

He doesn't get time to make a move because Steve already saw, dragging him away and shoving him against one of the clear overhangings of rock again, sending Bucky's world into pitch black from how dark the snow was making it.

"No, I'm not letting you try that a-"

Steve grabs him a little over his elbows, trapping him against the rock and shielding him from the falling rock and snow. When Steve grabs at his injured arm again, he feels bones break. He doesn't know what round he's on now, but none of the pain he's experienced so far had anything comparative to feeling the bone of his upper arm break from under Steve's grip.

The captain didn't get to finish his sentence because when Bucky shouted, his grip relaxed instantly. He heard Steve gasp over the crashing of snow, the breaking of rocks, he could almost see the raw horror on his face when Steve realized what he had done. The pain was jarring. Liquid glass was flushed through his veins, he was stumbling against the pain and all he needed was for it to be over already. He needed it to be over. His eyes were prickling with tears, he wasn't making it out of this one, he was dying and Steve was dying next to him again. He couldn't do that. He had to start over, he had to do something, he couldn't just-

"Bucky, no!"

He ran again for the edge. He could see the glimmer of tears on Steve's face from dim lights, hear the Commandos yelling at them to run, Bucky's injured arm burning but he still ran for the cliffside. He began to tilt over the edge, only to be swiveled around when Steve caught his good arm. Steve's eyes were wide. Desperate. His shield on his back, snowflakes tangled in his hair, grabbing at Bucky's arm as he stood with his heels on the edge.

He ripped his arm out of Steve's grip.

"Stop trying to save me!"

It clicked as Bucky began to fall, tripping over the pebbles on the edge as the snow began to plummet again. A piece of ice smacked him in the chin hard. He felt his jaw break as he tilted over the edge and rotated with the hit, moving to land headfirst to the ground. His brain began to go numb, blackened with the hit, there was blood leaking into his brain and he could feel the world slipping away from him but not into any white of unconsciousness.

Suddenly things clicked, whatever was happening made sense, the hell he was in blossomed into an answer as he felt warmth collide around his waist. Steve's arms wrapped tightly around his waist with a muffled cry of defiance, pulling him into a tight embrace and cradling his massacred face into his shoulder to try and cushion him from the fall.

Eightieth.

Bucky sits up, his skin cold. He can just feel the last imprints of Steve's fingerprints around his shoulders, the burn of his bones from the break and the sting of his jaw from the crackle. His left arm trembles as he reaches up to run his working, fresh fingers over his face. He can hear the morning bustle. He knows every sound.

The rip of paper, the slide of rope against itself, the clink of machinery and the ziplines. Murmured whispers to each other, inside jokes, Bucky's heard it all because it never changes.

He sits there, clouded sunlight coming in through the tent, messily covered with a blanket, the warm rocks he had been lying on now cold in the morning. He's in all his winter finery trying to keep warm, the spot next to him achingly cold. He tucks his knees up to his chest and he stabs his eyes onto them until all he sees is purple and blue phosphenes dancing in his vision. He can feel his tears prickling on the edges of them. Goodness knows how long he'd cried before.

Steve comes to check on him eventually. He starts with a hearty joke about him sleeping in, words that instantly die on his tongue as soon as he sees Bucky curled up tightly in the corner of the tent, a hollow in his chest.

Bucky starts out slow. Trying to explain things, his voice breaking just enough for Steve to stare at him wide-eyed and disbelieving. Steve believes him. He's memorized the words enough to know what would make the captain believe him.

He takes in a deep breath.

Steve's eyes harden.

Bucky's tied to an outcropping of rock and futilely watches the train go up in his face.

Eighty-one. Softly. Sweeter. Gentler. Kinder. He can feel his heart breaking but it breaks him even more when Steve instead orders him with Dugan in the back of the train instead of up with him. Bucky wonders if this could work. He ends up crushed under the weight of one of the cargo holds. Several of his ribs break, he feels them, shattering underneath him but oddly enough, he doesn't feel the pain. He tastes blood on his mouth as Dugan screams his name. It's okay, he thinks, falling off into a sweet black, it's gonna be okay now.

His eyes are startled open when his eyes go to the window of one of the closed train cars. He sees red and blue, bright colors against the white lights of the train. Steve's slamming his shield into the door, trying to wedge it open. He sees a flash of blue aimed at the turned captain's back.

Eighty-two. He tries again. Sits there until Steve comes for him. He lets another dam break, one of the last few he has. It's tears, it's crying, yelling, breaking, the Howlies even begin to crowd around the tent in worry and confusion.

This time. This time Steve agrees. Bucky can see his heart breaking, his eyes wide with worry but there's something in Bucky's tears that make Steve agree and then lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead as he sits there, uselessly, begging Steve to do something that goes against the captain's very nature.

He should've known better. He should've known the amount of times Steve had promised to stay out of a fight, he should've known from the amount of broken silences, broken bones, and broken promises. He should've known Steve better than that. Maybe Steve Rogers just held a weakness for tears, and he did, but James Barnes crying in his arms was something that would break the man to do absolutely anything, and promise absolutely anything.

Bucky's expression is only one of betrayal when Steve jumps after him from the train edge where he's blown off the edge, still standing on top of the train when a small snowfall takes him off his feet.

Eighty-three. Same results.

Eighty-four. Bucky asks if Steve can just stay on the Alps with him. Steve refuses, and Bucky leaps from the edge again. Steve with him.

Eighty-five. Bucky says a line that gets the Commandos to buzz around Steve. He jumps over the edge while Steve is being held back by the Commandos both confused and desperate to keep Steve from falling after him. Steve breaks through, leaving the star of his ripped uniform in Jacques' hand.

Eighty-six. Bucky knocks Steve out (or mostly out) with the butt end of his rifle. He jumps. He doesn't know what happens after that, but he wakes up again in his tent. He has dim recollections of watching, broken, bruised, bleeding from the ground, as the train explodes in a beautiful array of blue and orange. He can almost hear Steve's scream of grief and pain, the Commandos still on the Alps. A suicide mission.

Eighty-seven. He tells Steve again. Steve makes the same teary-eyed promise. He knows Steve won't keep it but he needs that promise. Bucky helps secure the train. He knows every bullet. Every move. Steve looks terrified as he keeps the train running at a steady pace. He wonders if the rock slide will happen again, all before he takes the step in between Steve and the half-dead guard that was raising its pistol for a last shot. It's a nice death. He would've liked that to be it. Falling into Steve's arms as the captain cries his name and lowers him to the ground, smelling Brooklyn and home.

He watches, mouth bleeding red as a second bullet rips through Steve's skull from a half-dead pistol.

Eighty-eight. He's desperate for that death. He looks the half-dead soldier head on. They pull the triggers at the same time. The half-dead guard is dead. He falls backwards into Steve's arms. It's a nice death. He wants it. He wants it that way. He forgets Colonel Phillips wants Zola alive, and by the time he realizes the scientist has a gun pointed at them both, it's too late. Steve clenches Bucky up close to his chest, shielding him from the last bullet.

Eighty-nine. Ninety. Ninety-one. Ninety-two. Ninety-three. All five spent trying to get that ending. He shot Zola. Shot the soldier. Made sure no guns could go off. Moved them closer to the cliff wall so the door couldn't rip open. Moved them to the back so the engine wouldn't explode.

Ninety-four. Ninety-five. Futile promises made. Steve didn't keep a single one.

Ninety-six.

"Sleeping in a little late, huh-"

Steve didn't get time to finish. Bucky's hands are on his collar, head down to the ground, fingers tight and cold. Steve lets out a grunt of surprise as he's shoved up against the wall of the rock in the back of the tent, eyes wide, cheeks ever so slightly blushed but it fades to pale as soon as Bucky stands there in front of him, fingers gripped tightly on his uniform collar, feet braced apart, the whole of his lower arms pressed to Steve's chest like he was ready to start beating it like banging on whatever door separated them.

"Let me die."

The words have Steve blinking in confusion.

"... What?"

"Steve, please."

Bucky's voice isn't sweet. It isn't sad, it isn't filled with tears and broken voice cracks, nor is it filled with careful gentleness. It's the voice of a broken man. Of someone who's had enough and who's ready to die. He's trying to hard to keep his cool, he's suffocating, but there's no other way out. He can't. He's had enough of futile promises, of stupid decisions, of Steve's passionate disbelief that he'd have to live alone but he has to. Oh, he has to.

"It's... it's been so long, I can't keep living like this." His voice is a harsh whisper between his teeth, eyes unfocused and staring at the ground as he speaks. Steve is too shocked to interrupt now, all he does is stand there, hands almost half up to grab Bucky's shoulders, eyes on the face he can't see because it's pointed to the ground. Slowly, Bucky's forehead moves to rest on his chest.

"... It's been an eternity, I'm so tired. I'm exhausted. I can't take one more day of this, it's driving me insane and I can't do this anymore. I'll just-I'll just keep dying day after day after day after day-"

"Buck, calm down, what are you talking about-"

"I'm talking about today!" Bucky's voice is a harsh sound. Cold, rough, pleading. His head shoots up and his fingers tighten on Steve's collar, making the captain breathe a little harder. His eyes meet Steve's and they falter for just a moment at the concerned fear in the captain's eyes but he doesn't stop. He can't.

"I'm talking about how I'm going to die today, I'm going to die falling or shot or-or evaporated or stabbed, I am going to die."

Steve's hands went up to Bucky's, trying to loosen the brunet's grip on his uniform. Bucky's grip doesn't leave.

"Do you hear me? I said I'm going to die. Steve, look at me!"

"I am, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Steve, I've died a hundred times already, I can't do this again!"

Bucky shakes him like he was still a kid, gripping his collar tight and shoving him back and forth against the rock wall, his voice breaking and full of tears but he's so tired, so, so tired, he almost doesn't care.

Almost.

"I don't know how and I don't know why..." He doesn't stop. He can't. He can't. "But it just keeps happening and god help me, if this happens one more time, I'll shoot you and then I'll shoot myself."

"I-I don't understand-"

"What don't you understand?! 'Many Dimensions', 'Doubled and Redoubled', the books I've told you so much about, Steve, it's happening to me! Everything I do, I end up dead, I stay here, I die by avalanche; I go on this mission and I'm either shot or I fall off the train. I'm dying. I'm dying and I'm dying and I'm dying over and over and over and over again."

"... You're... You're not..."

Bucky's eyes close. "I'm not sick. I'm not tired. I'm not nervous. Steve, you've broken my arm six times trying to keep me from running off this cliff. You've taken ten bullets for me. And it changes nothing. I always die. I always lose. And you're always right there next to me."

His hands are falling from Steve's collar. They're not shaking. They're numb, cold and unfeeling as slowly loosens his fists and lets his palms rest on Steve's shoulders. He's exhausted. Oh god, he's exhausted.

"... Buck, you can't... you expect..." Steve sounds so confused. Bucky lets him speak. "... You're just living the whole day over and over again?"

Bucky nods numbly. "I don't know how long its been. It's been weeks though, Steve. I think I figured out how to break out of it so long ago but you keep... it keeps..."

He started to ball up his fists again. This is where he failed last time. And the time before that. He knows if this keeps happening, he'll go mad. He doesn't know how he'll go mad in a world that keeps repeating.

He only flinches back when Steve's hands slowly trace up to rest on Bucky's.

"... What?"

Bucky's eyes close slowly again, savoring the warmth on his own hands as Steve slowly pulls them from his chest to hold them between each other.

"... You have to let me die."

Steve's quiet. He doesn't say a word. Bucky doesn't know if he believes him or not, but there's one way to make sure.

"In every iteration, you're there. The day doesn't reset until you die, I can be bleeding out and dying and I can be slipping away but as soon as you die, I do. And the day resets. And I'm here again, in this bed, waiting to die again. And you don't die with me, you die trying to save me. Every time. I fall from the train and you jump after me, trying to cushion my fall. We both die. I stay on the cliff here and there's an avalanche, you make the mission on the train a suicide mission. We both stay on the cliff and the avalanche buries both of us, you die trying to pull me out of the snow."

"... Listen, even if it's true-"

"Steve, I've done everything." Bucky's voice breaks, just enough to stop Steve from speaking. Oh, he's falling apart. He's breaking. He's dying. He needs this. God, he needs this. "I've taken care of every obstacle. We do the mission, we die; we don't do the mission, we die; I've tried to save you every time but I can't because you keep coming after me. I've knocked you out and put a bullet in my skull, I've died in your arms and you take a bullet trying to shield my body, Steve, I've seen you dying so many times but I've watched you die more times than that."

"I-I-"

"Do you know how much pain I've gone through? I've died almost a hundred times and I remember all of it. I wake up every morning thinking my bones are breaking, I'm bleeding out, I wake up with the last traces of hellfire still in my veins, I've woken up day after day after day after day in pain, just to try and save our fucking lives and you keep messing it the fuck up and making me do all of it over again!"

Bucky's fist met Steve's collarbone, hard. He felt the ring of the hit in his bones. It was quiet outside the tent. The Commandos were quiet. Jacques and Jim were probably trying to listen. Everyone else was probably trying to drag them away and keep them from doing so. He didn't care.

Steve's hand slowly lifted up to rest on Bucky's hand. He was so gentle. He was always so gentle. Bucky could feel his heart racing beneath his skin but he was so kind. So gentle. Always.

"... Alright. How do I un-fuck this up."

Bucky's eyes stare at the white star looking back at him.

"You need to let me die."

"Buck, there has to be another way-"

"You have to."

"I can't."

"You have to! Or this happens all over again and I need to try and convince you to do it again!"

"There has to be another way!"

"There isn't!"

"I can't do that to you!"

"You have to! Do you know how many times I've watched you die?! Steve, millions! Not even in this! In hospital beds, in every fight, in every brawl, in every hit that came at you, I watched!"

"And I didn't? Watching you with your father, with your family, at the docks, letting people touch you when you didn't want them to, watching the teachers beat your wrists for things I did, listening to your father hit you and beat you while I could do nothing? You think I haven't been watching all this time? You can't ask me to do that again!"

Bucky's heart was a broken, bleeding mess. He had heard this argument before, but it hadn't made it hurt any less. The first time, he had stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't known how much Steve had heard, seen, listened to. Willingly. He hadn't known that much. But he did now. And his lack of silence made Steve blink back in surprise.

"I have to! Please, I have to, I can't keep living like this! Attached to you, glued to you, trapped with your dead weight on my body, you need to let me go!"

Steve's hands were shaking. Shaking in Bucky's grip but he was the one holding on. Bucky's voice was quivering though. It still shook.

"I could hold your weight before but I can't this time, not when you can walk on your own now. This is something I need, can you not hear me? I wish I didn't have to ask this of you but I have to because any more time like this and... and I don't know what will happen. This will continue for eternity until you let go."

"I... I-I know it's cruel of me to ask, but this can't... this can't be it..." Steve's voice was tearful. Quiet. Desperate. Bucky wasn't even sure if he believed him enough.

Bucky moved forwards, hands drifting up to cup Steve's face between his trembling, cold hands. Steve tilted his head down to let Bucky press his forehead to his gently.

"It has to be. Please. If this doesn't work, I'll know this isn't the problem, but I have to try. Please, Steve. I have to."

Steve is solemn when they leave the tent but it's quiet. The Commandos pretend it never happened. Bucky doesn't know how it'll happen this time, but he does his best to ensure everything is the same as the first time.

He knows the door is going up between them. He lets it.

This is only the third time he's let them be separated like this.

The panic on Steve's face is unrecognizable. It hasn't happened in the previous iterations after all. Bucky misses half his shots. Moves too fast, moves too sloppy. He's a sniper. Best of his kind. He wasn't on the team because of Steve's favoritism after all. He hits the wall hard, pressing the back of his head against the door. He's nervous. Wonders if this will be the one. He wastes all of his cartridges before he looks up and finds Steve at the door.

The captain tosses him a gun. They take care of the last guard.

"I had him on the ropes."

Bucky's voice is strained, still confused as to how that worked.

"I know you did."

Steve's is less strained. A little more nervous, but he sounded a tad relieved. Like he thought that was one of the checkpoints that had Bucky killed at. It wasn't.

That was still to come.

There's the guard behind them with the gun. It shoots. A surprise. Steve is caught off guard. Bucky isn't. He turns, ready, quiet. Steve shoves him down to the ground, jumping in front of him, shield raised high. Bucky is also thrown down, hitting the ground hard.

Steve is down. Bucky picks up the shield, feet unsteady from the shock and not bothering to try and fix his stance.

The shot goes wild. The force is too much. He hits the metal hard. He lets out a sigh of relief and lets the wind take him.

He watches as the train car above him explodes into a flurry of blue smoke.

He hardly feels the pain radiating out of his chest as the last of the threads seems to be there.

Ninety-seven.

Bucky lies awake in his cot until Steve comes. The captain comes in with a soft smile and a gentle one-liner.

"Sleeping in a little late huh- Oh, you fucker."

Bucky smiled at him softly. The expression makes his cheeks hurt.

"It's gonna be a long day, man, wanted as much sleep as possible," he complained in turn, sitting up slowly from his blankets and then staring up at Steve's face.

Steve was always a handsome man. Always. Blond hair, blue eyes, a stunning complexion, now with the pecs to match the size of his heart. Oh, Bucky could feel his numb heart already breaking.

Steve's eyes flickered confusedly as he began to pull stuff back up again, just make it look a little tidier.

"What's that look for?" he asked, rolling up the blankets he left undisturbed so he could let Bucky rest a little longer without noise.

Bucky shrugged in turn.

"Nothing."

"Buck..." Steve's voice held a teasing note in it but it was still gentle. Encouraging almost.

Bucky looked away, rubbing his eyes. His fingers shook as he did so.

"Just... had a funny dream, that's all."

Steve let out a laugh, tilting his head up to the sky before nodding at him again. "Try me."

He let out a short hum, chest constricting before looking away.

"Just... Just about the mission. Makes me a little nervous."

Steve's eyebrows furrow. "What about? Doing okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing fine..."

The captain doesn't continue, just shrugs and begins to finish his clean-up. Bucky can see the expectance on his face as Steve begins to turn away. After all, the captain knows him.

".... Steve?"

At his name, he turns around, a soft kind of almost smugness on his face at knowing he's secretly right. He moves closer, settling down in front of Bucky quietly. He was ready to listen now. So ready, so willing to listen to all Bucky had to say.

He took in a deep breath, looking down to twiddling fingers.

"If I... If I die... during the war-" Steve's face immediately changed to concern, but he stayed quiet. "-can you promise me you won't try and... try and come after me?"

Steve was quiet for a moment, staring Bucky in the face before he took in a deep breath and tilted his head at him curiously. There was still a flicker of concern in his eyes, but the same calm Bucky had so desperately needed through this conversations. He needed that calm. His heart began to beat a little steadier.

"I... I don't get what you mean."

He let out an exasperated sigh, feeling a bit of a blush creep into his cheeks but he hid it with a rub of his hand on his face.

"Listen... You know I've been living with this-this idea of you dying before me, right?"

"Whoa, way to bring that up now."

"Shut up, I'm making a point- but you've gotta know that. I mean, with what you looked like before, I had to."

Steve had a soft smile on his face as he nodded, Bucky playfully punching him in the arm. He could still hear the Commandos laughing outside, gently, warmly. Not yet noticing the captain's absence. They probably never would.

"And well... I-I know that if you ever died, I'd go on. I mean, it wouldn't be easy and I'd never want to, but I also know you'd kick my ass in heaven if I tried to go after you." He gave a slight pause when Steve's smile faltered. "And... well, even if I'd want to go with you, pal, I wouldn't. For your sake. I mean, even with you now as large and in charge as you are. If you died out on that train, you know I'd keep going because I know you'd want me to."

"That must've been one hell of a dream you've had-"

"It was."

"Buck, listen, the Howlies are waiting, can't this wait?"

Bucky was quiet for a moment, looking Steve dead in the face, eyes half-closed, head tilted. After a couple seconds, the captain rolled his eyes at the ceiling and inclined his head forward, nodding impatiently for whatever else the brunet wanted to tell him.

"I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

"Oh come on-"

"No, not 'come on', I need to know you'd do the same for me."

"That's not going to happen-"

"I will sleep a whole lot sounder if you just say it."

"We sleep on the train, we can do it then."

"We are not, now look me in the face, Rogers, and promise me."

Steve let out a loud, hearty life, eyes sparkling. Bucky's heart ached in his chest.

"Promise you what?"

"That if I die, you don't get your sorry ass to heaven until you're a hundred-and-two and have met your great-grandkids."

"Buck!"

"Both you and I know Carter's stuck on you, now promise."

"Oh my god- that was uncalled-for."

"Totally was, now come on-" Bucky took a pause to raise his right hand. "-swear on it."

Steve laughed, a beautiful, sunny sound. Loud and almost annoying, his eyes all alight and his blond hair messed. A ray of sunshine in the Alps.

"I ain't swearing, it's stupid anyways."

"It's not stupid, you made me swear before!"

"When?"

"Hospital, Spanish Flu, 1933."

"I was thirteen, I didn't think I was gonna live through that."

"Steve, it still stands. I deserve this."

"Like hell, we're naming our children after one another, that's also a promise we made."

"That was when I thought you would never get laid-"

"What?"

"-Now promise me!"

Steve stopped there for a moment, looking Bucky in the face as if just realizing now that he was serious. Of course, he still looked like he wasn't taking Bucky seriously, but there was a light to his eyes, a soft, warm light that Bucky took full advantage of, soaking as much of it up as possible the way Steve liked him to. Knees tucked up to his chest, leaning over to loosely circle them, tilting his head at Steve loosely with a goofy smile on his face.

"Oh, so now we're demoting to a promise," Steve eventually said with an incline of his head and a soft smile on his face.

Bucky shrugged. "Well, you made me promise, so I guess it's only fair." He paused for a moment before he straightened, extending his pinky. It was a fair promise. One they made as kids but still one of the little precious things he had left to believe in. He moved it forward gently.

Steve lifted his readily, then backed off as soon as he realized what he was doing.

"Wait, what am I promising to?" he asked, warily narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

The other rolled his eyes at the ceiling before he stopped for a moment. What was he asking Steve to do...?

"... Live well, I guess. Just... Y'know... if one of us falls... Promise to catch yourself first."

Steve's lips pursed at the phrasing, hesitating on bringing their pinkies together and looking Bucky in the face for a moment. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the fear when he saw the genuineness in Bucky's eyes. How much trust he was putting in this.

And then after a moment, he reached forward the rest of the way and wrapped his finger around Bucky's.

"... Alright. I promise."

Bucky felt a warmth enter his chest as he smiled, Steve grinning at him in response, a gentle sort of warmth radiating from his smile.

After a moment, he gave in, reaching forward and pulling the captain into a hug. Steve caved all-too-easily, grinning and pulling Bucky into that familiar warmth himself. Bucky let himself breathe for a moment, breathe in the familiar scent, wrap himself in the familiar warmth. He wasn't sure if he'd get it again or not.

But he felt good. It felt good. And he wasn't sure why.

He didn't make the same jokes on the side of the mountain. Watching the train come through. He made a few wry comments, but not much. Talked to the Commandos. Made careful not to give away anything to upset the team. And still, he gave them each pats on the back before the train began to come around the bend.

Steve only gave him a look for moving too smooth on top of the train. More casually than the rest of them, more steadily on its surface. He had walked on it enough times. He moved in a little smoothly. Maybe a little more carefully. He didn't mind.

He held his breath as the door went up between them, pinky still burning from Steve's warmth.

He missed half his shots.

Steve still came in through the door with the gun. They finished the last guard together, and Bucky let out a rattled sigh, an uneasy feeling resting in his chest.

"I had him on the ropes."

Steve sounded more relieved.

"I know you did."

Bucky could feel the other guard before Steve did. Before the supersoldier, before the better soldier and better captain. He didn't jump or whirl or anything quite at all.

He just turned. Wondering if he should wait. If he should just stand there and let it aim. He wasn't sure where it would go now.

Steve jumped on him. The force of the blast at close range was ear-ringing.

He didn't move without thinking. Quite the opposite really.

He hit the ground hard, readied, prepared. Snow flashed against his face, cold air blowing his hair into his eyes.

He took the shield, being careful to place his hands where the shield would easily slip from his grip. He had thrown the thing enough times to know how to hold it, but for now, he held it too loosely, pulling his gun over the shield and firing at the exposed spots in the soldier's armor. He could hear Steve yelling as another blast charged.

He closed his eyes as the blast came.

It took him off his feet.

He hit the metal hard. His fingers found the security of a metal bar on the wall.

"No!"

A shout. He wasn't sure why he was holding on. If he thought it would help. If he thought it would make sense. If he thought, for just a moment at a time, that this could be the day he escaped, and escaped alive. If this was an iteration where he didn't have to die, where he could just fall back inside the train. After all, they were so close.

So close.

Steve skittered to a halt mere seconds from reaching across the gap, Bucky's eyes wide and aimed at him.

Promise me.

He whirled around, grabbing his shield off the ground and throwing it at the guard and it's loading guns. Bucky watched it hit the ground, a large dent in its armor from the amount of force.

Steve was pulling his helmet off, the side of it caved in from where he had hit the wall, blood splattered against the side of his head now freely dripping down his face.

"Bucky! Hold on!"

Why was he holding on? Just fall. It'll all be over. Ninety-seven useless days of torture, pain, never-ending agony, it could all be over. Maybe it would restart. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe this decision was wrong, maybe Steve's self-sacrificing ass wasn't the key. Maybe he didn't have to die.

He hung on anyways. His fingers tight, feeling the blood on his left hand from the cut already. He hung there, for dear life, unable to get a grip on the train door with his feet and the wind ripping against his skin uselessly. He could see the bar he was holding on to start to break.

"Grab my hand!"

Steve was stretched to his limits. Holding on to the only solid part of the train that was left, both feet firmly planted on something and his gloved hand reaching, stretching, breaking, his eyes squinted against the snow and desperately clawing for any hold he had on the train to get closer.

Bucky held his breath.

That if I ever do fall.

He let go of the bar with one hand, reaching for Steve's. Their fingertips brushed. Oh, he could see it. Feel it. A hesitant flutter of hope flared in his chest.

The bar cracked.

He slipped.

"NO!"

You won't try to save me.

He didn't know why he screamed. Did he think this was the end? Did he think that finally, after all this time, all this torment, that this would be the last? He didn't know. He really didn't. For the first time, he really didn't know.

And yet the scream tore out of his throat anyways.

He waited. Watched. Desperately. Hoping for something almost impossible as the bar tore loose from its hinges.

Steve dropped, just like Bucky's heart did.

And in that split second, Steve's hand caught itself on a handlebar that didn't give way.

Bucky fell. He fell and he screamed but once the breath in his lungs ran out, he breathed.

He could breathe. Oh, he could breathe. It was cold, it was cruel, it was horrific, fear coursed through his veins and he could feel his arm still trying to scrape at the cliff around him trying to get a hold on it, he could barely breathe but he did anyways. He did anyways because it was over.

Oh, the pain, the agony, the ruthless, neverending torture day after day after day forcing him to live the same hours of death and killing over and over again were finally dead.

And now he was free.

Live well for me. At the very least, don't fall. Just don't fall for me.