"You can't tell him."

A punch across the face. He spits out blood.

"Do you understand me? He can never know what you've become. You're going to forget him."

Another punch that sends him reeling, a quick one to the stomach that has him coughing up blood.

"You're going to forget Steve Rogers."

He slumps to the floor, unconscious and bloodied, and the door quietly slides shut.

////

3 years earlier.

"Ready to head in?" Steve glances towards the entrance of the bar. "This might be the toughest mission we've come across."

Bucky rolls his eyes as he walks past him and into the bar. "It's only a couple of girls, Steve. I'm pretty sure you'll survive."

It was Christmas, 1942. After finishing an extraction mission -- rescuing about fifty men -- Steve and Bucky had decided to take a break and hit the town. The snow was heavy, and they were already soaked with it as they entered.

Steve runs a hand through his messy hair and works a smile onto his face as he sees the two girls wave them over, a brunette and a redhead.

"You can take the brunette," Bucky hums, clapping him on the shoulder. Steve tries not to roll his eyes. They sit down and instantly, always the charmer, Bucky picks up the conversation and has both the girls' attention. Despite being Captain America, Steve still wasn't great with people quite yet.

"So, didja' get anyone?" the brunette says eagerly, before blushing and composing herself. "I mean, you're Captain America. He can do anything."

Steve shrugs, smiling a little. He notices Bucky glancing at him, amused. It was always Captain America who got the spotlight.

"Well he's crap as a fighter, but Stevie here can draw anything," Bucky pipes up, twisting to join their conversation. "You shoulda seen the one he did a while ago..."

"Hmm," she hums, not sounding interested. Steve takes a gulp of his drink as she turns to him again. "So how many Nazis have you caught?" she asks in a low voice, as if it's a secret.

He looks at Bucky to clarify. "Couple hundred?" He taps his glass, thinking. "'Bout around that, I think."

"You're so brave," she sighs, eyes bright. "I'm glad you're Captain America."

Steve feels his cheeks start to burn, and Bucky watches them quietly, ignoring the redhead who attempts to grab his attention back.

"Yep, only Captain America," Bucky laughs, but it sounds dry. Steve glances at him, and Bucky lifts an eyebrow. That's the cue to get out of dodge. "Well, ladies, I'm so sorry to cut the night short, but we have training we've been neglecting."

"Aw, really? At night?"

"Standard procedure," Bucky agrees and slides off of his stool, nods at Steve to do the same.

"Well -- I had a wonderful time talking with you." The girl takes Steve's hands, then presses a kiss to his cheek.

"And us with you," Bucky chimes, gently prying Steve away. He elbows him in the ribs when the girls start talking to each other. "Say goodbye and we can get outta here," he hisses.

"It was nice to meet you two," Steve finally says, a tight smile on his face. The girls giggle and wave as they exit.

"That was probably the longest hour of my life," Bucky sighs, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry," Steve mutters, leaning against the wall and nudging a chunk of snow with his shoe.

"It ain't your fault," Bucky replies, scoffing. "Just -- there's no escaping Captain America, huh?" He shakes his head. "Don't you ever wish that Steve Rogers was someone?"

Steve sucks in a breath. "Yeah," he says as he exhales, looking up to the sky. "You have no idea."

"Of what?" Bucky takes out a cigarette, clicks the lighter a few times, gets it lit.

"Well -- what it's like to exist in someone else's body," he murmurs. In the silence that follows, he rushes to continue. "I mean that ever since I got this -- " He gestures vaguely to himself, frowning. "It's only Captain America that matters, and he's not real. I'm parading around as this poster boy, and..."

Bucky watches him quietly. "Not everyone sees Cap an' no one else," he reminds, his tone softer than usual. "I'm stuck with Steven Grant Rogers, the biggest pain in my side to exist, and my best friend," he continues, bumping his shoulder. Steve smiles at the ground. "I wouldn't trade that for the world."

Steve smiles over at him. "Me too," he agrees. They're quiet for a moment as Bucky finishes his cigarette. "C'mon, let's head back."

Bucky flicks his dead smoke into the snow and follows him back to base.

////

"Hey, hey! What the hell, Steve -- "

"Just let me -- "

"Stop moving!" He grabs his shoulders, makes him look him in the eye. "What the hell are you doing?"

Steve swallows, trying to take a steadying breath. "We can't stop here, Buck, we have to go," he breathes.

Steve staggers a little, his body riddled with injuries. Captain America can take a bullet, or a few -- he'd taken just a few too many. With no shield, no backup, and little experience, it wasn't a great attack.

"Yeah, you do have to go."

"I have to keep -- "

"Stop talking," he hisses. He pulls him behind a barrier and kneels down next to him, flinching as something explodes meters from where they had been. "Christ, Steve," he growls, looking him over. Steve had rarely seen him that undone before.

Before he knows it, Bucky's leaning in, closer to his face to be able to speak over the din of noise, and Steve stares at him as everything goes hazy.

"We need to get you outta here, can you stay with me? I need you to do that for me. Steve?"

"Yeah," he mutters, disoriented. "Buck -- I -- "

And then he's fading away, and the world stops as Captain America fails his first mission. Bucky is the last thing he sees as he blacks out.

When he wakes, he hears a loud argument happening close-by; Bucky on one side, and an unknown voice on the other.

"Someone needs to fill in for him, he can't go on like this."

Then, a stranger's voice. "He is Captain America, son. The people need that icon, to help them through this."

"He's an actual person," Bucky snaps. "I'm not losing my best friend because you need a poster boy to represent your war bonds."

"Love can't come into play when war is happening," the older man barks. Bucky's silent for a second, glowering.

"Who said love was at hand, sir?" he asks in a gruff tone.

"You tell me." With a disapproving glance between Bucky and the Captain, he whisks out of the tent and into the bitter November air.

Steve blinks up at the ceiling, breathing lightly. Bucky sinks into the wooden seat beside the bed, staring at the floor. He curses quietly and shakes his head, then musses his hair up with his fingers and sighs.

"Rough night?"

Bucky turns towards him and a small smile spreads across his face. "You'd know. You look like Hell."

"Not like I was shot or anything," he retorts and struggles to sit up. "Hey, who was in here with you?"

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "You heard that?" After his affirming nod, he sighs again. "Some idiot general who wants you back out there tomorrow. I tried to convince him that he can find a substitute, but that was a no-go."

"I could do it," he offers. Bucky shoots him a look, and Steve huffs and leans back. "Or... heal to get better?"

"Smart man."

"You really think so?" Steve feigns happiness. "I knew someone did."

Bucky grins and shakes his head. "Such an idiot."

"I know."

////

A year has passed. Captain America is a household name, and he's good at what he does. Not only him, but his entire team -- with Bucky as his second-in-command.

The "idiot general" from a year before had taken over the roll of the head commander of the 107th. He was a general Theodore Tolms -- a rough, rugged-looking man with hard blue eyes and dark, close cropped hair. He wore his age like a badge of honour, refusing to shy away from it like many others.

"Oh, sure, take back a powerful artifact from a train on an icy track. What could go wrong?" Bucky says sarcastically, a cigarette dangling between his teeth. They stand above a train track, and the snow blows around them, chilling them to the bone. Tolms had sent them specifically on the mission, claiming that their expertise was necessary.

"We don't have any other options," Steve muses as he slings his shield over his back.

"Still wish you'd kept the original outfit," Bucky says wistfully as he watches him prepare himself, flexing his hands and clicking his helmet into place. Steve smiles and lifts an eyebrow.

"You liked the suit, huh?"

"It fit you nice," Bucky defends with a shrug and a mischievous grin.

"C'mon, boys, time's wastin'," Dugan says as he sidles up to them, claps them both on the shoulder and nods. "See you on the other side."

It was time to get down to business.

////

"Steve?" Bucky cautiously makes his way down the center aisle of the train, gun raised. Steve, having made it inside a second faster, doesn't hear him a car ahead.

Bucky presses against the wall and pauses, furrowing his eyebrows. It's too quiet. He listens to the silence, the only sound the wind whistling from outside. Then, he hears a crunch of glass in front of him.

All Hell breaks loose as agents swarm the last train cart. Bucky shoots one in the face as he comes charging at him with a machine gun.

"Steve, on your left!" he barks as Steve rushes to join him, putting his shield to good use. Two against ten, they make quick work -- Steve's training had paid off.

"You okay?" He grabs Bucky's shoulder, looks at him urgently. Out of breath, Bucky nods and looks around them.

"Come on, we should -- "

"Behind me!" Steve pushes him back and raises his shield as a heavily armed soldier rounds the corner, charging his weapon. It fires and Steve has a second to brace himself as the blast hits them, sending them reeling.

Steve slams against the wall and struggles to his feet, as Bucky scoops up the shield and fires his gun at the oncoming enemy. Another blast and a hole is ripped through the train wall, and Bucky falls.

Leaping into action over the fallen soldier, Steve races to his side, throat tightening. Bucky, white-knuckled, clings desperately to the railing as he dangles thousands of feet above a ravine.

"Grab my hand!" This was the moment that divided Steve Rogers from Captain America. He extends his hand, and it isn't Captain America saving a soldier in need -- it's Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers trying to save his best friend, his friend he couldn't ever live without.

"Steve," Bucky yells, and it's lost in the wind. His grip loosens and he struggles to reach his other hand up.

He stares at him, eyes filling with tears, memorizing his face, even if he looks terrified -- like he's losing his entire world.

His breathing comes too quickly as panic holds him tight, as his stomach lurches, as he makes the final, desperate grasp at his outstretched hand.

As Steve almost loses his grip on the train and grabs on tighter, and misses Bucky's hand, inches away.

And Bucky falls, and he's screaming, and it doesn't stop -- and then, nothing. A numbness. He looks around and everything is hazy. He can't feel his left arm. Just... nothing.

There's nothing.

He stares sightlessly into the sky, and remembers that Christmas night years ago as he watches the snow fall around him. Just him and Steve.

Now it was just him. Steve Rogers was no more.

////

Steve walks. He walks to the end of camp and when he can go no further, he sits and stares out across the field. It doesn't matter where he is physically, because mentally, he's always on the train.

He's always losing him.

He presses his palms against his eyes and swallows the tightening knot in his throat.

Steve Rogers lost a part of him, that important part that told him that he was more than what they said -- that he was still himself. No, he was a soldier now -- taking on the front lines of the world as a token for the American people, a symbol of freedom that could be safely packaged away when America decided he wasn't needed anymore.

That was all he was for years, and he lost himself in it.

////

Bucky wasn't dead, but he sure as Hell wished he were.

"Please! He's all alone, I have to -- "

"Don't you understand?" The soldier hisses, grabbing the blood-stained collar of his shirt. "Tolms needs you to cooperate." He narrows his eyes. "So just give up."

Bucky sags back into his chair, breathing hard. "Why," he croaks, blinking black spots from his vision. "Why is he doing this?"

"Captain America needs more than one man," he answers. "You gave Tolms the idea a year ago, remember? He needs trained soldiers. Good ones."

"Why me?"

"Because you're going to work from the shadows."

Bucky falls silent as he processes this, and the soldier takes his time to stretch.

"And who says I want to do this?"

"Oh," the soldier sighs, turning back to him. "You don't get a choice." He cocks his head. "I didn't." He slams his fist into his jaw, and Bucky staggers backwards, eyes rolling up into his head as he drops to the floor.

////

A year passes. Steve's a shadow of himself, and Captain America has never been bigger. It's 1945, and there's a sense of urgency amongst the population.

One last mission and it'll all be over, Steve thinks to himself repeatedly.

He sees shadows. When he looks in the mirror, when he's on a mission, behind him -- sometimes it's him. Other times, it's Bucky. Lately, it's Bucky more than ever.

Then, he sees him. Face to face.

After rounding a corner, breathing hard and trying to rescue soldiers behind enemy lines, he runs into Bucky, who isn't himself.

He stands in a suit much like Steve's, except darker. He has a mask instead of a helmet, and Steve stops short when he sees the American flag on his shoulder. A shadow of himself.

Bucky doesn't say anything, and Steve can only stare back, slack-jawed, eyes wide. Everything whirls around him, Bucky's staring at him, and what was with the flag? He can only hear the blood rushing through his ears, he swears he's about to faint.

He stumbles back a step, looking him up and down. Bucky remains motionless, staring at him. "You're -- how are you -- "

Steve's mind flashes through thousands of possibilities, all of them impossible. Then, his mind whites out, and he's numb to his surroundings.

Bucky's alive.

////

Woah! This got a lot longer than I thought it would be, and I'm not quite done yet. So a part two will come up after this! :) Eventually. We'll see how long it takes me.