Second angsty bunch. Again, death. Sadness. Angst. It's just the prompts, folks.

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"I don't understand, they were supposed to be here!"

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Bucky hated losing battles, but he knew when he was beat.

Today was the day.

He and Steve run through the desert, cursing the mission they're on. Bucky was supposed to be undercover and Steve had only been sent in recently as a back-up plan.

"Fury, they're on our *sses out here," Bucky gasps into his mouthpiece. "We need more back-up, or we don't stand a chance."

"Barnes, you have one of the most capable soldiers fighting with you -- "

"He's hurt," Bucky snaps, stealing a quick glance at Steve, who was rapidly paling but still managing to keep up pace. His leg was either broken or sprained; they'd had little time to tell. "Natasha? Clint? They were supposed to meet us."

"That's still underway. Rendezvous at location C asap, they'll be hovering nearby," Fury speaks. Bucky brings his hand down from his earpiece and curses, shaking his head.

"So?"

"Meet outside the marketplace, South end," Bucky calls. They split up to make it harder for the agents to find them.

When they meet up again, Bucky looks around frantically, eyes wide. The agents would be on them any minute.

"See our escape?" he asks Steve anxiously. Steve shakes his head.

"They're right on our tail, Buck -- "

"I don't understand, they were supposed to be here," Bucky says faintly, understanding that they were screwed. No escape, their cover blown, injured and anxious.

It was never a good deal.

When the agents catch up, Steve and Bucky fight as best they can in the situation they're in. They take out agent after agent as quick as they can, all the while keeping an eye on the horizon.

"Buck--!"

Bucky turns when he hears the sound of a harpoon, eyes widening. Steve was being dragged through the sand by his injured leg, a harpoon in his thigh. Bucky runs to help him but doesn't reach him before someone whacks him in the back of the head with the end of their gun.

They were supposed to be there, but they weren't. Steve and Bucky didn't make it out in time.

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"Somebody help me!"

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Steve's first asthma attack was the most terrifying thing he'd ever gone through. Even later, after the ice, it remained up on the list.

He was six, Bucky was seven.

After running through the streets, chasing a stray dog, Steve and Bucky stop in an alleyway to catch their breath. Bucky grins, still winded. He huffs and sits against the wall.

Steve tries to suck in air but finds it more difficult than it should be. He tries harder, breathing faster and faster. "Buck," he coughs, sliding to sit against the wall. Bucky looks at him and frowns.

"Steve? You okay?"

"I can't breathe," Steve gasps. Bucky leans forward, looking worried.

"What do you mean?"

"I - I can't -- " Steve tries to take a deep breath, but can't seem to get it past his throat. "Bucky," he whimpers, sounding scared.

"Stevie, you're scarin' me," Bucky says quietly, sitting in front of him, searching his face. "What - what do you want me to do?"

Steve can't say anything. He puts a hand on his chest, wondering why it feels so tight, like if he breathes he'll explode. He feels light-headed.

"I don't know what to do," Bucky says quickly, sounding afraid. "I - I don't know how to help you."

Steve was going red in the face, gasping, his breathing choked off. Bucky's too afraid to touch him. "Steve, c'mon, breathe," he whimpers. "You gotta be okay."

Steve slumps down the wall, listening to his heart beating loudly in his ears. Bucky looks him over frantically, eyes wide.

"Somebody help me!" he yells, looking out the alleyway. "Please help me!"

He yells as loud as he can, sobbing. It looked like Steve was dying. He squeezes his hand tightly, at a loss of what else he can do.

A passerby hears him and rushes over. Bucky, through his tears, explains what happened, and the adult is quick to take action.

Later, Bucky timidly goes to see him. Steve was whisked off to get help, and Bucky hadn't heard if he'd made it or not.

He did. Bucky hugs him tightly before pulling back. "You scared me," he says quietly. Steve nods and hugs him again, averting his eyes.

They didn't talk about it again.

////

"I never should have trusted you."

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Steve winces as he's kicked in the back of the legs, falling to his knees. He hears Bucky do the same beside him.

A Hydra head agent was monologuing again. Steve tunes him out, turning his attention to the brunet, who seems relatively calm. He tries to communicate what they should do. Bucky meets his eyes for a second and gives a subtle shake of his head.

Confusion washes over the blond and he looks back to the ground. The monologuing villain finishes and says something to Bucky.

"Fair trade. Your life for his."

Steve's head snaps up, shocked. He looks to Bucky and the brunet avoids his gaze. He stands up and walks over to the agent. Steve stares at him.

"You won't harm him?" Bucky makes sure not to look back at Steve. He didn't want to see the look on his face.

The smile he recieved was empty. "We won't kill him, no."

Bucky doesn't say anything. Steve feels a mix of shock, anger and sadness hit him and he meets Bucky's eyes when he turns around again.

"I never should have trusted you," he murmurs. Bucky kneels down in front of him, lifts his chin up.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. Really," he speaks, sounding remorseful. Steve glares at him.

"You lying sonofab****," he growls. "I trusted you with my life."

"That wasn't my mistake to make." Bucky stands up again. "That was on you, Stevie."

"I can't believe I ever mourned for you." Steve blinks hard, refusing to show that he's upset. Bucky gives him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry. It's the end of the line, pal." He gives the head agent a look and walks out. Steve yells after him, yelling curses and God knew what else.

Bucky makes it down the hall before collapsing, shaking with sobs, shaking with frustration. He was a sell-out.

He would never see Steve again. He hated himself for that.

////

"I can't hate the person who killed her. He's only been part of the world for as long as she's been gone from it."

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Steve stares at the photograph on his desk. Peggy. She had been killed by the Winter Soldier in her own home. Didn't matter that she was suffering, didn't matter that she was going to die anyway, it didn't matter. She was an ex S.H.I.E.L.D. commander and Hydra didn't want to risk that. So they sent in the Winter Soldier, and he took her out.

And only two weeks later, he was back as Bucky again. They had broken through the programming and T'Challa had housed him in Wakanda, kept an eye on him and monitored his recovery rate.

Now three weeks after that, Bucky was back. Everything had happened so suddenly. Steve still couldn't hold a normal conversation with him. He didn't know how to.

His best friend had killed his other best friend. (That was the best title he could come up with - He and Peggy had kissed, sure, but it hadn't felt like much at the time.)

"Steve?" Natasha walks in and takes a seat. Steve looks up and gives her a small smile.

"Hey," he sighs, leaning back in his seat. Nat eyes the photograph in Steve's hand.

"How've you been recently?" He gives an empty smile and shakes his head. She studies him quietly. "Do you hate him?"

Steve pauses, thinking of an answer. "I can't hate the person who killed her. He's only been part of the world for as long as she's been gone from it." Nat nods in understanding. "I mean, he's Bucky now. He wasn't then," he adds.

"I understand," Nat assures. She squeezes his hand and smiles a little. "Just talk to him, okay? He thinks you do hate him."

Steve looks down and nods. "I will. Thanks, Natasha."

Nat nods and walks out.

////

"Touching? That's a first."

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"Seriously? You're picking a fight when I'm injured. Oh, that's great," Steve says sarcastically.

"God's sake," Bucky utters. "I'm just saying -- "

"We've had this conversation too many times and I'm really not in the mood," Steve snaps. Bucky puts his hands on his hips, frowning at him.

"I'm just saying," he enunciates, narrowing his eyes, "if you waited for my instructions like I told you to, you wouldn't be injured right now."

"Oh, so it's my fault someone materialized in front of me and took a shot? It's my fault." Steve shakes his head and leans against the wall. "You're really frustrating sometimes."

"Really? I wonder what that must be like. Not like you've ever frustrated me, ever, for eighty years," he retorts.

"You were asleep for twenty of them," Steve snaps.

"I was brainwashed for almost all of them," Bucky yells. Steve glances away, pursing his lips.

"I'm sorry," Steve mutters. "You're right."

"You're being touching." He raises an eyebrow. "Touching? That's a first."

Steve clenches his jaw. "Like I said. Not in the mood to fight."

"You're always in the mood to fight," Bucky mutters.

"Can you shut up for five minutes?"

"Can you chill? Find another glacier, Steve," he snaps. Steve goes to walk over to him, changing his mind mid-stride.

"Shut up. Right now," he hisses. Bucky glares at him and folds his arms, glancing away. Steve goes to step towards the couch but staggers halfway, swearing under his breath.
He takes a knee and pauses for a second, gathering himself. Bucky glances at him briefly.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Steve snaps, getting up again. Bucky walks over and pulls him to his feet, then wraps an arm around him. Steve clenches his jaw but says nothing, leaning against him as a wave of dizziness washes over him.

Bucky helps him to the couch, then he helps him with his wounds - some deep cuts in his leg, a bullet wound in his stomach. He patches him up in silence.

"Sorry," he finally says. Steve nods, looking at him.

"Me too," he utters. Bucky sighs as he sits back, folding his arms.

////

The last one was my favourite, strangely enough.