In All Our Years Series - 4 In 1 | Captain!Bucky, WinterSoldier!Steve | Stucky

2010

| 2014 |

"Steve..."

The name fell from his lips with a revere, a guilt, and, finally, a heavy sickness. All this time. All these years.

He was still alive.

But he fell. Bucky remembered it better than anything; the cold, trying so hard to hold on and then - his body hitting the torn edge of the wall where it bent back, Steve's fingers scrabbling the wall before he was taken away, Bucky lashing out to grab onto him but only getting his tags, and two bone-chilling screams - one of terror, one of anguish.

He didn't want to say a thing. His voice wouldn't be able to work, not able to sneak past the pressure in his throat. But, whether it be a miracle or a curse, he managed, "H-ho-how...You're dead. I watched you fall." It's seared into my head. I see you falling when I can't sleep.

Steve's face contorted - confusion, anger, fear - before setting back to a stone he recognized from experience with Nat. "I always get back up." Then he aimed -

Bucky was fully prepared for the bullet. But Sam had other ideas. He swooped down from the sky, sending a powerful kick to Steve's torso, knocking him over completely.

He rolled on the ground, jumping up from his knees. The way he looked at Bucky was heartbreaking - like he didn't even know him. But the terrified glaze and the confused wildness in his eyes, the shaking but determined curve of his lips, told Bucky that something he needed to know was there.

He had no idea what it could be. But he'd figure it out. The Steve he fell in love with - who this man clearly no longer was - would do it for him.

With a sudden resolve, Bucky launched himself at him - jumping high enough to slam his knee into the middle of Steve's chest, a move he never would have dared to make before the war. He remembered making similar moves on him when they had fought before, in cold Soviet forests, and felt guilt churn in his gut.

He knew it was impossible, but he should have known.

He should have forced Colonel Phillips to let him and the Howlies lead a search team.

He should have -

There was nothing he could've done besides let go of the bar before Steve pulled him back in, and he knew that.

The Steve of now had much more training than the Steve of then - even after he had gone through Project Rebirth. He had no training, the Howlies had to stage an intervention after a few missions. Bucky hadn't wanted to teach him to shoot - Steve shouldn't have fucking followed him - but he hadn't had a choice.

Whatever had been done to him - he definitely knew how to fight.

He jabbed the sharp knobs of his knuckles - scarred and calloused - into the hollow of Bucky's throat. Bucky jerked back, front-kicking Steve in the stomach and pushing them away from each other, gaining a short moment of relief. Bucky needed it. His heart and eyes burned, wasps swarmed inside his ribcage. His hands and knees trembled, causing him to worry about a possible fall or moving too slow.

Steve was coming back in, and something on Bucky's face must've made Sam feel the need to intervene. Hovering in the air, he grabbed onto a strap on his shoulder and pulled - and fucking hell, the look on Steve's face. It was pure terror mixed with fury, and a growl rose from behind his clenched teeth as he turned on Sam, pulling a knife from a sheath on his leg.

Sam pulled himself out of the way, missing the blade by a hair. Bucky jumped back in, knocking one of Steve's legs out from under him by taking his own kneecap and bashing it into the weak side of his, pulling a knife from one of the sheaths when he was distracted by quickly regaining his balance.