Bucky, he's alive, he's alive, he's here. Steve's going to faint. His head feels stuffed to the brim with new information. Then Bucky's grabbing him by the front of his shirt and dragging him around a corner.

"You can't be here," he hisses, his tone urgent as he rips off his mask. Steve stares at him helplessly, a million questions racing through his mind and none spoken out loud. Bucky looks around them quickly, his face set with frustration, with anger. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Bucky?"

"Yeah, it's me," he whispers, head whipping left and right as he studies every corner, every shifting shadow. "Long story. Don't freak out, please, we have to get you outta here," he hisses.

"But -- " He grabs his arms, looking him up and down. Then he notices the blood-stained boots, and realises it's all over his hands. Speaking of, one feels colder than the other, and a bigger shock hits him when he processes that it's a metal hand. "Is that blood?"

"Yes," he says impatiently, grabbing his hand and whisking him along a corridor.

"I have to... "

"I took care of it," Bucky grumbles as he rushes him past an opened room. Steve catches a glimpse of a person -- or, people -- bloodied and fallen. Shot and stabbed. Murdered in cold blood.

"Wait," Steve finally snaps, bringing them to an abrupt stop. "I have to free everyone -- "

"They're gone, this was a dead mission. I'm supposed to be here, you're not," he mutters.

"What does that even mean?"

"Steve," he suddenly pleads, looking at him urgently. "I know this doesn't make sense. But I really need you to shut up and follow me. Okay?"

Steve studies him, at a complete loss for words. Finally, he nods curtly and squares his shoulders. Bucky relaxes his stance and takes off running through the meandering hallways of the facility. Steve concentrates on following him, not on the splatters of blood decorating the floors and walls, bodies that added a little extra flair to the horror of it all.

Closing his eyes briefly, he buries himself in the moment and decides to save his questions for later.

It's two hours later when they're well away from the facility when they can finally speak as they hide out in the forest.

"What are we waiting for?"

"They'll notice I'm gone, so we need to lie low," Bucky murmurs, glancing at him. The silence that follows is awkward, and he sighs as he readjusts, kneeling in the dirt. "Okay, you've got questions."

"How the hell are you alive?" Steve hisses, facing him. "I -- I saw you die, I saw you fall -- "

"Some American soldiers found me," he says, voice surprisingly steady. Steve's eyes are glassy as he stares at him, adrenaline of their flight wearing off and shock coming in.

"Your arm..,"

"Lost it in the fall," he finishes, his eyes darting to the metal.

"How long have you been -- "

"A year. I think?" He frowns. "My memory's been hazy. I'm surprised I was able to recognise you."

"Why wouldn't you?" He looks confused, and Bucky studies his face a moment and sighs, trying to determine how much he can tell him.

"I... I'm a soldier now. For a different cause." He swallows. Steve can't take his eyes off of him. "Tolms, he... wanted others like you. Other soldiers to do what you do, but... worse things. Behind the scenes."

"Why?" Steve barely registers himself asking the question.

"I can't discuss details," he replies. "Come on, we have to -- "

A gunshot is heard and a second later a bullet bites into the ground beside them. Bucky shoots Steve a panicked look and they run again, sprinting to get ahead of them.

"Steve, look out--!"

Steve collapses as he's shot in the leg. Breathing hard through his teeth, he struggles to his feet again.

Bucky grabs him and pulls him up, dragging him to safety. Panting, he quickly studies his wound and curses.

"We can't stop here," Steve mutters, biting back a groan as the pain intensifies, and he slouches to the ground again. Bucky scans the area and quickly assesses their options. There were very few.

"Okay. Hide. I've got to turn myself in, they can't get to you." He sounds determined.

"No, Bucky -- "

"Listen," he snaps. "They can't get to you. If I'm suddenly more useful than Captain America, if you're no longer needed, Steve, do you know how easy it would be to get rid of you?" He shakes his head violently at the thought. "No. You have to find a way to hide. Do you understand me?"

Steve nods as he stares up at him, desperate -- anxious. Bucky hates that look on his face.

"I'll be back for you. Radio for help," he says urgently. "I'm sorry, Steve."

With that he runs into the dark, and soon enough voices are heard, one of them, emotionless and collected, is Bucky's. He lies through his teeth, stating that he had been chasing down Captain America when he had been shot and killed, but through the head, and heart -- no use trying to save him.

"He fell somewhere that way... "

The voices fade away. Steve, biting his knuckle to keep himself silent, forces himself to his feet and makes himself start to run, staggering over wood and rocks, as far as he can.

Panting with the effort, he sinks down with his back to a rock and fumbles for his radio, shaking with the effort. He chokes out his rough coordinates before settling in for a long and terrible night.

////

Leaving Steve behind was the hardest thing he had ever done.

He's out that same night with several more soldiers in a search party, fighting to remain neutral. He mentally says a silent prayer that none of the soldiers, like him -- the very opposite of Captain America -- are along for the search.

Bucky, being the last one to see him, quickly searches the last area he was and follows a route. After twenty minutes, he stumbles upon him and drops to his knees, checking him over.

"I'm sorry, Steve, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, fighting back the panic rising in his throat, fighting to remain calm. "He's here!" he yells to the others. "Steve, come on, you gotta be okay," he pleads. "You gotta make it through this, Rogers. Please... "

Once they're at the medical tent, Bucky waits nervously outside, arms folded as he stares into the dirt. Steve had been lying there only a few hours, so surely he had to be okay.

He'd survived worse, years ago. Bucky remembered that night, Steve determined to leap back into action despite being riddled with multiple bullets. He takes a shaky breath, slowly releases it. The thought still does little to calm his nerves.

"Barnes, he's awake," Dugan says as he nudges him. Bucky leaps to his feet and cautiously enters the tent. Steve looks paler than usual, but he still greets Bucky with a tired wave.

"Thank Christ," Bucky breathes. The medics quietly leave, one of them mumbling under her breath.

Another soldier, quietly sitting outside cleaning a blade, listens carefully. He studies his knife in the fire light. So, Captain America alive and Barnes a traitor.

Tolms had to know about this. The soldier silently slips away into the night.

"I still can't believe you're alive," Steve breathes as he looks up at him, and Bucky shrugs meekly, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah. Me too." Without a thought, he reaches out and squeezes Steve's hand, and the blond in return forces a smile. "You're safe now, and that's all that matters."

"Why do you care so much?"

Bucky blinks at him. "Because you're my best friend, you're my other half, Steve. Without you, I'm... " I'm only a murderer, I'll never be good like you, he thinks. "Not whole," he says slowly.

"That's a nice sentiment, Buck." Steve grins at him, and Bucky can barely muster a smile.

"Yeah. Well," he says and clears his throat, gently letting go of his hand. "Hey, we'll figure out this mess, right?"

"Right."

Bucky smiles, more genuine than before. "Okay. Rest easy, Rogers. Stop getting shot all the time."

"Sir, yes sir," Steve agrees. Bucky smiles softly before leaving the tent.

////

Later that night, Bucky about to get ready for the night, he feels a presence at his back then turns and freezes as a knife presses against his throat. He slowly raises his hands.

A low-ranking soldier -- he squints to see the name 'Albertson' -- is glaring up at him. Bucky recognises him as one of Tolms' Winter soldiers; shoulders tight, grave face, heavily armed.

"Let's take a walk," Albertson says.

"You don't have to do this," Bucky says, calm as anything. "There are dozens of soldiers here and one word from me would send them running."

"Tolms knows he's alive. Knows you saved him. Says it's time you were erased." Albertson digs the blade in deeper.

"Okay. And if I refuse?"

"We kill your Captain and then you. You seem oddly attached to him," he muses, giving him a cold look.

"Why shouldn't I go over your head and report you to the general?"

Albertson snorts. "You don't think Tolms already has him in his pocket?"

Bucky swallows, trying to think of a way out of this mess. "I'd drop that knife if I were you." Another voice pipes up. Albertson barely has time to turn around before he's knocked unconscious and slumps to the ground.

"Steve?" he says incredulously, eyeing him in his worn Captain America suit, standing tall despite recent injuries. "You -- what are you doing?"

"What Tolms is doing is wrong, and we're going to stop him."

"You should be resting!"

"True," he agrees as he checks over his shoulder for any attention drawn their way. He starts to move Albertson out of the entrance of the tent, tugging him out of view. "But am I going to? No, so don't complain and let's get this done with once and for all."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, secretly impressed. "It's refreshing seeing you take control."

Steve gives him a small smile and continues onward, and Bucky follows him into the belly of the beast.

////

Getting to the heart of the operation was the toughest part. Tolms was held in great respect, as he was a distinguished general and had the allegiance of many men. They were outside of the law in this battle.

Bucky was determined to follow Steve to hell and back.

And that's exactly what he does.

"Okay, Buck," Steve says softly, glancing at him. "You sure you're up for this?"

They stand facing the facility where Tolms had trained his own variety of super soldiers -- taken ordinary soldiers with a considerable amount of skill, his "Winter Soldiers", just as able and strong as Captain America, fighting for the same cause, but underground -- assassinations, betrayal, morally wrong-doings determined to be for the greater good of the state.

Bucky clenches his jaw. "I'll follow you, Steve. Always."

Steve regards him for a moment, then squeezes his shoulder. "C'mon," he says quietly, and they make their way inside.

Chaos. A firefight that Bucky was dreading, face-to-face against soldiers who match his strength, he and Steve easily out-numbered.

"On your left, Steve," Bucky pants as he takes another soldier out of commission. Steve whirls and hits the attacker in question with the shield, turning again to shoot another over Bucky's shoulder. Bucky nods at him. Moving further into the building, Bucky feels more and more unease. His grip on his gun tightens. "Through here," he says as he leads Steve through the building.

"Welcome back, Barnes. I see you've followed orders," Tolms announces, standing respectfully in front of a strange machine that Steve had seen nothing like before. He turns to face them, and Bucky freezes in his tracks, suddenly helpless in the face of his tormentor.

"Bucky?" Steve says, eyes trained on Tolms as he walks closer. Tolms examines him, frowning, and Steve takes a step back.

"You've done very well," Tolms praises, and Bucky says nothing, his gaze flickering between the two. "I am glad you've decided where your loyalties lie."

"Bucky, what the hell does he mean." Steve's voice is quiet. He tears his eyes from the threat and looks instead to his suddenly mute best friend; who Steve had always seen as the epitome of strength, now lessened, scared.

"I didn't mean for this, Steve, I -- I didn't know -- "

Tolms grabs Steve who falters in his reaction, eyes locked on Bucky, Bucky who can't stomach to look at him. "Bucky, what did you -- "

"I'm sorry."

Tolms chuckles as he shoves Steve towards the machine. "Always thought there was something unnatural between you two. Something... wrong. But I trusted that your, ah... friendship was probably enough to get you here." Tolms reaches to the table next to the mechanized seat, strokes a syringe lying there.

Steve decides he doesn't want to find out what its purpose is as he leaps to his feet and into action, throwing his shield at Tolms' head.

"Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak," Tolms speaks, voice booming through the room as he steps out of the way, cut off as Steve tackles him to the ground.

"Seventeen, benign -- nine," Tolms chokes out. He kicks Steve off of him and Bucky remains frozen, breathing hard and clutching his head.

"Please," he whispers, and his voice cracks. "Stop!"

"Bucky, hold on -- " Steve grunts he struggles with Tolms, as Tolms continues rambling, and Bucky wraps his arm around himself.

" -- one, freight car," Tolms gasps and everything falls still as Bucky is no longer himself. The Winter Soldier adjusts his stance, eyes cold, mouth set in a solemn line. Steve stares helplessly.

"Ready to comply."

Hopelessness floods Steve's chest, and he stands to face him. "Bucky..?"

Tolms fades into the safety of the shadows.

Confusion flickers over his face. "Who the hell is Bucky?"

Steve remains frozen to the ground, even as the soldier launches himself at him, tackles him and starts throwing punches; staring helplessly, Steve can't force himself to move, not even to protect himself.

Then, he gathers himself. He wasn't letting Bucky end like this. "Buck, it's me -- your name is James Buchanan Barnes -- "

His metal hand curls around his throat, and alarm bells go off in Steve's brain. Gasping, he claws at his arm, staring at him. The Winter Soldier holds his gaze, stoic. Silent.

"It -- it's Steve," he chokes, kicking uselessly as the soldier lifts him, then throws him into the wall. As Steve struggles to rise, the soldier grabs a gun from Tolms; calculated movements, calm and steady, practiced to perfection.

Two bullets, one next to his head, the other inches from his heart, and Steve jumps into the fight. A whirl of emotions threatens to overwhelm him, but Steve fights them back as he focuses on what he knows: how to stop a threat.

Exhaustion quickly takes him but he fights onwards, no match for this winter soldier who easily overpowers him. Steve turns to grab his forgotten shield, a second and a half too late, and the winter soldier -- tired of playing around -- shoots him through the back.

A strangled gasp falls from his lips, and Steve falls to his knees, breathing shaky and eyes wide. The soldier walks over and Steve stares down the barrel of the gun, into Bucky's stormy eyes.

Blood flecks Steve's lips with every trembling breath, and he forces himself to keep his head upright despite the struggle to do so. "Bucky," he murmurs, his keen blue eyes glassy amidst a smattering of bruises -- and a memory clicks inside Bucky's head.

The word is barely a whisper, but the name Steve bounces through his head. In that same instant he swivels around, spots Tolms cowering in the corner, and stalks towards him, fury and rage radiating off of him, bright and terrible as the sun.

Tolms barely has time to react, dark blue eyes widening as he opens his mouth to speak --

"Hail -- " The gunshot echoes and Bucky stands there motionlessly, arm frozen outstretched, breathing hard. "Hydra," Tolms murmurs, blood on his lips, before falling still.

Tolms lay dead where he'd been shot, the echoes of 'Hail Hydra' still on his lips. Bucky kneels next to Steve, panting and bloodied.

"Hey. Hey," Bucky breathes, holding his head in his lap, as Steve remains unmoving. Bucky brushes his hair off of his forehead, nervously examining him, feeling tears brimming at his eyes. "No, Steve, stay with me. Please," he chokes. "I just got you back, I just -- " He covers a sob. "Please wake up."

Silence, and Bucky is drowned in an overwhelming heaviness as he clutches his best friend to him.

It feels as if hours fly by, and Bucky's legs are numb from Steve lying on them.

And then Bucky hears the rattling of breathing, and the flutter of eyes, until Steve Rogers is dimly aware of his surroundings, and he looks up at him.

"Bucky," Steve breathes, a faint, blood-specked smile on his face.

"Hey, punk," Bucky wavers, finally taking a deep, shaky breath.

He helps him sit up and, wincing, Steve clutches his stomach and Bucky moves to face him. Bucky pulls him in close then buries his face against his neck, one hand moving to card through his hair. "You okay?" His voice is soft.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Gettin' kind of sick of getting shot though." Steve relaxes into his hold, closing his eyes as exhaustion takes him over. "But you're back."

Bucky tries to smile for him, and can only hold him closer. "What, you miss me or somethin'?"

Steve laughs softly and chokes back his tears. "Don't flatter yourself," he murmurs.

////

Time passes. Missions are accomplished, and for a moment, everything was okay -- well, chaotic, and they were in trouble with many officials for their actions, but they had each other.

"Stayin' out of trouble, Rogers?" Bucky glances up from his newspaper, a cigarette hanging between his teeth. Steve rolls his shoulders and neck as he walks through the door, clicking his helmet off and discarding his shield.

"Well nobody has successfully shot me in a while, so I must be doing something wrong."

Bucky shakes his head, smiles dryly and returns to his paper as Steve joins him at the table, and he takes his hand.

"You're a punk." A teasing smile crosses his face as he looks at his best friend -- his partner in crime in more ways than one.

Steve looks at him, and he squeezes his hand. "Jerk."

////

So apparently part one was published like a year ago? So... uh... tried to rush to get this one finished as quickly as possible! I really enjoyed writing it though, hope you all enjoyed the chaotic ride :)