Part 1:  https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/65599939/write/410820400

"Can you walk?"

"Could you?" you hissed back. "My leg is busted in three places."

"I could if I had to," the Soldier answered, equally as agitated, "and I've had to before. So do you, so let's go. Up."

"You are such an asshole-" you began as you tried to stand just as he had ordered, but the slap of the back of his human hand across your cheek halted your progress. You had never underestimated his strength before, but you had also never been on the receiving end of it. Your head snapped so suddenly that you felt a crack in your neck, and your vision blacked out for a second while you regained your bearings.

"I said, up."

You immediately dropped your gaze to the ground, both in embarrassment and in deference, forcing yourself to stand on your good leg and barely balancing on the injured one just to make him see the effort. It wasn't often that the Soldier treated you this way; it was a working relationship and nothing more, not even any hint of being friends, as you had no idea if he had that capability or not. Nothing that you had seen up to this point would tell you that he did, but he was at least civil to you whenever your paths crossed and you had to work together. To see him this way now, after being gone for so long, you were scared for the first time at what he had become. "Yes, sir," you snapped, hobbling on a leg that barely held you, moaning as quietly as you could with each step.

The Soldier had been gone for a few years since that day when the helicarriers fell in D.C., and you had no idea why you were seeing him now, here in Berlin, having been taken into custody along with Captain America. There was no reason for him to have remembered you at all, and when you told Steve that the Soldier would save you, it was a calculated risk and you had fully expected to find yourself face-down in that elevator shaft with him.

Now you began to think that maybe he regretted not letting you fall.

"We need to get to the roof. There's a helicopter we can commandeer, but we need to move. I'll go out ahead and clear the path, but I won't wait long."

"Sir," you nodded, pushing through the excruciating pain shooting up from your foot and into your back, trying to keep your leg as straight as possible with each hurried step. As soon as the Soldier was out of your sight, you nearly collapsed; your sight was spotty and you could barely keep your vision from swimming as your body slipped into shock. You began to stumble, banging into the wall with each step, grabbing at anything that could keep you from hitting the floor; in your stupor, you knew that you weren't going to make this flight, but that wasn't going to stop you from trying to follow your orders.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing?"

"Oh, shit...seriously?" you grumbled, stopping and leaning heavily into the wall. "Of course you show up now, Rogers. Your timing always has been just fan-fucking-tastic."

"You can't walk on that leg," he continued, hurrying to stand at your side, "here, let me help-"

You swatted his hand away, the thought of him touching you making your skin crawl. He wasn't having it, however, and when your swat had barely connected with its strength all but gone, he swung his arms beneath you and lifted you up once again. "Put me down, you big oaf."

"No."

"No?"

"Did I stutter?"

"You are impossible," you snapped, trying to push from his hold, though you should have known better, "and you have no idea who you're messing with."

"I know exactly who I'm dealing with. I know him better than you do, (Y/N), and you're playing with danger that you can't possibly understand. I'm going to leave you somewhere safe and I'm going to stop him."

"Like hell you are!"

"Listen, he's my friend," Steve answered much quieter, "I owe it to him to snap him out of this. He was good...he was starting to remember who he was, and I have to bring him back. (Y/N)...he's my best friend, okay? I'm not walking away from him again." The Captain's feet stopped and he groaned quietly, closing his eyes with disgust in himself and his unplanned faux pas in light of your current condition.

"You bastard," you sneered, "that was totally on purpose. Picking on the inflicted really isn't in your character profile. What would your fans say? Do you pick on the little kids in hospitals too before you sign their toy shields?"

"Oh, okaaaaay! I'm the one who's impossible?! There's no winning with you-" he stopped, but not by his own choice. The Soldier's metal hand flashed in your periphery and you readied yourself for the hit; Steve was yanked back by the throat and his grip released, leaving you to drop on the concrete floor with a jolting pain that hurt everywhere. You couldn't even begin to guess the damage that had just been done when the shock radiated through every bone in your body. "(Y/N)!"

"I told you to get to the helicopter," the Soldier ordered flatly, "so go. I'll join you when I'm done here."

"No, (Y/N), don't! Stay where you are!"

"Move, (Y/N)," the Soldier repeated, silencing Steve with a punch that knocked him into the far wall. "You have your orders."

"Yes, sir," you gave your customary answer, never once considering an alternative. At least not until you pushed yourself up to stand and immediately toppled over and flat onto your face. It wasn't pain that incapacitated you anymore; you had utterly destroyed your leg in your insistence in using it, and you felt nothing in it now.

"Stay down, (Y/N)," Steve tried again, only to get another hit to the jaw as his answer. He took hit after hit, never fighting back, and always keeping a trained eye on you and each failed attempt that you took to follow your commander's orders. They were orders that the Soldier tried again, which you followed and failed just as quickly. "I'll get you out of here," Steve promised, taking a strike that knocked him completely on his back, allowing his assailant to pin him so that he couldn't fight back even if he wanted to, but he wasn't showing any signs at all of wanting to.

"Steve, just fight!"

"No...he's...h-he's my f-friend," he struggled. "Buck, you...you know me..."

"No, I don't."

Something in Steve's tone struck a chord in your heart, hearing the pain and desperation for just a flash of recognition, and with his insistence in helping you it had begun to change your mind about your views of him. Yes, he was impossible and infuriating, and the battles you'd had together were memorable in many ways; Steve was a masterful fighter and you were going to miss your spars with him, but it was a small price to pay. If he died in this fight, you'd never have a chance again. Not to mention, he really was a good person like all of the stories told, and there were pangs of guilt and responsibility that came with watching him take the beating while you stood idly by. With a shaking hand, you raised your weapon and took aim, seeing the look of terror in the Captain's eyes just before your finger snapped the trigger.

When the bullet hit the metal arm, it ricocheted and lodged into the wall, but that was your goal; you didn't want to hit either man, but you did want to pull away the Soldier's attention long enough so that Steve could move. It was a hazy confusion of which side you were on, but there was no confusion in knowing that you didn't want either of them to die here. If Steve was telling the truth, and if this man was his friend, you couldn't do that to him, even if he made your life hell and annoyed you to no end.

"Steve, get up! Get outta here!"

But your plan backfired.

The Soldier spun on his heel, his usually emotionless eyes now filled with a fire that terrified you, and his fists clenched so tightly that you were waiting to hear the crack of his own bones under the strain. His steps to cross the small area towards you were even and heavy, but quickened with the rising anger that came with proximity. You had gone against him for the first time, and he wasn't likely to forgive the betrayal any time soon. "What did you do?"

"You were going to kill him."

"That's not your directive to stop me. You should've kept to yourself."

Steve pushed himself up with a wince of pain, his feet unsure and slipping beneath him as he stood, reaching out for the Solider but his grip just missed, the cloth of his shirt sliding between his fingers. "Buck...come on, Buck, stop..."

The clench of the Soldier's fists looked weak in comparison to how those fingers felt wrapped around your neck, being lifted from the ground by a metal hand that pinched your skin between the plates of each finger. He had struck you with this hand before, and he had grabbed you to pull you along when he ran, but that was nothing compared to the vice grip he held you in now. Your hands shot up to try to pry them away, your breaths becoming shallow and your vision spotting while you failed to move them so much as a millimeter. You tried to beg for your life, but the sounds came out as nothing more than choking gasps and pitiful whimpers.

"Buck, let her go!"

"Stop calling me that," he snarled, though his eyes never left you. They bore into your soul and stared at you with a cold indifference as to whether or not you lived or died, and right then and there, the Soldier had unknowingly done you a tremendous favor; he filled you with the determination to survive him, and to get yourself as far away from this life as possible. You had taken his orders for years and you had emulated his skills as best as you could, but none of that mattered anymore; what mattered was that Steve had finally gotten just enough of a grip on the Soldier's shirt to pull him back and off of his footing so that he let you go to try to catch himself.

"Fine, I'll kill you first then," the Soldier growled, turning his focus on Steve, but a sharp thrust of the Captain's fist into his jaw sent him tripping back. He returned the hit with a kick to Steve's chest, knocking your would-be savior into the far wall as if he weighted nothing.

"Steve!"

"(Y/N), go!"

You would've readily followed Steve's orders, had your leg not been destroyed, rendering you nearly immobile. When the Soldier dropped you from his crushing hold on your throat, you landed on the ruined limb, only making it that much worse. You wondered if it could even be saved now, as you glanced down at the mangled shape it had taken.

"No, I'll go," the Soldier answered for you, "but if either of you follow, I won't hesitate to end you." Just to be sure that his order was heard, he turned and gave you one final hit to the jaw that knocked you out within barely a few seconds, then turning to offer the same to Steve. Once he felt that you were both immobilized enough, he made a run for the helicopter pad; he had no idea that he hadn't stopped Steve at all, and within seconds he would find out just how strong the Captain really was.