This has been a request from burnyourlocalchurch.

////

Bucky gives a strangled gasp, trying to breathe. His chest heaves and he kicks his legs, flailing in his attempt to get air, the weight on his chest not making it easier.

He throws the block off of his chest and rips the fabric away from his mouth and nose, dragging in ragged breaths and coughing.

"Good. Now we will test what isn't a physical issue."

Bucky convulses on the ground, his brain still jumpy from the lack of oxygen.

They didn't know when to quit. They had successfully gotten back both Bucky and Natasha, and were trying their hardest to get them reprogrammed.

As legends and some of their best fighters with the rest of the Winter Soldiers in hiding and the Black Widows dead, save for Yolena who was hiding as well, Barnes and Romanoff were a steal they couldn't afford to lose again.

Bucky barely reacts as two doctors pull him up to his feet and over to the familiar metal chair. When the shackles are clicked into place, he seems to remember where he is and he straightens up, much more alert.

"Get your f****** hands off of me," he growls, thrashing with all his might, his metal arm whirring. "Get off!"

As the helm begins to lower, Bucky's heart sinks, and desperation sets in. "Please, no, no, don't do this," he begs. They don't pay him any attention. Bucky grits his teeth as the machine buzzes to life, and pain erupts in his head.

He was screaming, and he didn't know how long. All he knew was that when he stopped he couldn't see for a couple minutes and he was bleeding -- bit down hard on his tongue, his lip, and thrashed so that his wrist had gotten slashed against the binds shackling him down. That, and he was sobbing.

He was scared, he was hurt. He wanted Steve, and there was no point in keeping his dignity. He didn't even know if Natasha was alive or not. Natasha, who had been with him for longer than he'd known. Natasha, who was being tortured in the room next over.

She spits a wad of blood out and trembles against the wall, shaking with exertion and fury.

"We already have Barnes, just give in and you will see him," a soothing voice promises as they select a needle.

Natasha, while they're occupied, rises to her feet and charges for the door on wobbly legs. The figure wraps around her, pinning her arms behind her back with one hand. "Shh, shh, rest," they hum as they inject the needle into her neck. Immediately, Natasha slumps to the floor, her muscles weak, her head fuzzy.

She's led in a blur to her cell and when she focuses again, an entire day has passed. Feeling suddenly nauseous, the after affects of the drugs, Natasha closes her eyes and takes calming breaths.

She was escaping today. She had to.

Bucky was screaming again. Natasha rubs her temples and swallows. She wanted him to be safe, free of Hydra's grasp. But first, she had to get out of there. Every door slam made her flinch, every hand on her shoulder made her lash out, teeth bared.

She hated who she became here. She hated what they'd done to her.

She was getting out if it was the last thing she ever did.

////

So that's exactly what she does. Still handcuffed on one hand, panting and soaked with sweat, she shows up on Steve's doorstep at three in the morning.

Steve answers, bleary-eyed, and stares at her for a second.

"What the h***? Are you okay?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he swings the door open. "How did you even -- "

"I'll explain later," Natasha says dismissively and manages a crude smile. Steve pulls the door open and she steps in, then starts fiddling with the lock of her handcuff while she starts talking.

"Bucky's gone, and he needs help. With me out of there he's only going to get it worse," she mutters while she throws the handcuffs away once she's out.

"Get what worse?" Steve puts his hands on his hips as he studies her. Natasha purses her lips.

"They're trying to get the Winter Soldier back. They tortured us."

Steve looks away, clenching his jaw. Natasha leans back into his couch and suppresses a groan. "I'll send you the location, just give me a second and I'll tag along -- "

"No," Steve interrupts, meeting her gaze, "you're going to stay put. They can't find you again. You'll be safe here, I'll get Sam over if I can."

He hurriedly gets ready to go and after ten minutes, he's at the front door.

"Steve?" Nat says, her voice laced with worry. "Be careful."

Steve nods, determined, before setting out into the night.

////

Bucky blinks and lifts his head, panting and spitting out blood. Hours of interrogation. He was sick of it and tired and now just really, really pissed off. He glares wordlessly at the attacker while he's screamed at in Russian.

Another punch and he feels his lip burst, blood running down his chin. His head slumps onto his chest while he forces back a groan. He hadn't been this badly beaten up in a long time.

"Still? You are a tough case, Soldier," the person says. Bucky says nothing in response. Another punch, and another, and one of his eyes begin to swell. He was already sure his nose was broken, his arm broken, the metal one gone, and a concussion to top it all off.

Bucky doesn't react when he's grabbed by the hair and tossed across the room, slamming into the wall. He rolls over onto his knees and forces himself to breathe, even though his chest hurts like nothing before.

He drops to the ground when he's kicked in the side of the head and pain explodes. He squeezes his eyes shut and covers his head, curling up tight. Expecting more hits to come, he remains tense.

Nothing happens. In the distance, there's a scream, then two, then more, then nothing. Then crashing and the sound of running, more crashing and faint threatening.

Steve runs through the now empty halls, panting, his shield tight in his grasp. He rounds the corner and runs into the darkened room, and spots a huddled mess against the wall. "Oh, my God," he breathes as he runs over.

"Buck? Bucky, it's me," he says quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Steve..?"

"It's me," he breathes, looking him over. The ghost of a smile flickers across Bucky's face, delirious and bloody. Unfocused.

"Steve," he repeats, his voice shaking with the effort. Steve pulls him to his feet, then picks him up bridal-style when he can see how badly he's hurting, much to Bucky's protest.

"I've got you," he hushes as Bucky lets out a weak groan, his head falling backward. Steve moves his arm so he's supporting him better and goes as fast as he can without jostling Bucky and making too much noise.

"Where's Nat?" Bucky croaks as Steve rounds the corner and hurries down the stairs.

"She's fine," Steve pants, shifting him in his arms again. Bucky remains limp, sagging in his grasp. "You're going to be fine," he continues in a quiet voice as they run out. Bucky tries to ignore the carnage left behind, unconscious bodies littered across the floor, walls crashed through and gashes on many different surfaces.

"What's..."

Steve has the grace to look apologetic. "I might've caused a disturbance when I came in," he says dryly and Bucky grins despite himself, his eyes drooping closed.

"Punk," he mutters. Steve looks at him.

"Jerk."

////

Hydra was Hell. Now, Bucky knew he was no saint, but honestly - he thought he deserved a break. And he got it by simply being with Steve.

Steve saved him, and he swore to continue doing so until the day he died.

Until the end of the line.