On The Edge. | Steve Rogers.

fifteen.

Issac approached Steve on the bridge that served as the main entrance into the building from the woods it seemed, carefully slipping on a jacket the doctor had leant him. His other one was beyond repair and would be burned most likely. Steve had his hands in his pockets, standing close to the railing as he stared off into the distance. If you knew him well enough, it wasn't hard to guess what was going through his head.

He stood beside him, leaning forward on the railing to look down at the woods surrounding them. The doctor had given him something for the pain so it would be more manageable hopefully until they could override project insight. Once everything was done, he could go home and rest for however long he wanted. He didn't care who told him what anymore, he was taking at least a month off from anything extraneous or overly complicated. That was if he even still had a job once this was all over. He still hadn't exactly figured out where he was going to go from here. Maybe the FBI, his skills definitely wouldn't go to waste there. Or maybe the CIA, he knew a guy who worked in that field, that seemed like a pretty cool job too.

"Who's Bucky?" He asked gently, turning his head to look over at Steve. "Sorry, I kinda zoned out during the ride."

Steve's lips twitched, not fully breaking out into a smile though.

"My best friend. We both fought in the war and he...I thought he died back in 1945. I guess I'd been wrong this whole time.." He sighed sadly.

"And...the man back in D.C, that's him?" Issac just wanted to make sure he wasn't getting confused.

Steve nodded, looking completely torn apart about this. Imagine living for almost a century thinking your best friend died seventy years ago, only to find out he'd been working for the enemy this entire time?

"Bucky was always there for me when I needed him."

"Steve." Issac sighed, feeling horribly about having to say this. He didn't want to break Steve's heart even more but he also didn't want Steve to die trying to save someone who was a complete lost cause. "There might not be anything left of him to save."

Steve sighed softly, lowering his head and nodding.

"I have to try."

"And what if it gets to the point where it's either you or him?" Issac frowned, furrowing his eyebrows.

Steve remained silent, but his expression told Issac more than he needed to know.

"You can't be serious." He laughed humorlessly.

"I can't just leave him, and I can't kill him either. He's my best friend."

"He's the Winter Soldier. I don't know what Hydra did to him but whatever it was, there's a good chance it's irreversible. There may not be anymore 'Bucky' left."

Steve finally looked up at him. His expression was determined and resolute, there would be no breaking through to him.

"I'm sorry, Issac."

The brunett just let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he turned away. He took a moment to calm himself, staring over the tree tops at the city skyline in the distance.

"And say you get through to him, whatever is left, what then? Steve, he's the Winter Soldier, there's not exactly a lot of leniency that comes with that within the law. There's a good chance the government will just lock him up with the rest of Hydra."

"Then I'll figure something out." Steve sighed softly, leaning forward beside Issac. They stood there in silence, just enjoying the sounds of nature. As two men who grew up in cities that were almost never quiet, this was a moment of serenity they never knew they needed.

Issac looked down at his hands, frowning. Although he washed them thoroughly, there were still some flecks of dried blood under his nails. He took a moment to carefully pick at them, trying to get rid of as much of it as possible before sighing heavily. The odd ache in his chest that appeared now and then was back. He worried if maybe his lung was about to collapse, it wasn't impossible considering where the bullet hit. Or maybe he was going to have a heart attack, and at this rate, it would be the first of many even at such a young age.

"Would you do the same thing for me?" He asked before he could stop himself. It took him a moment to realize what exactly came out of his mouth, clearing his throat and quickly straightening his back. "Or- Tony? Or Natasha?" he covered up his slip rather easily in his opinion.

Steve looked momentarily caught off guard, expression slightly confused and surprised. It shifted back to what it was a few minutes later, hardened and sure of himself.

"In a heartbeat." He said reassuringly.

Issac ignored the way the heat rose to his cheeks, but also how the pain in his chest seemed to worsen. Of course he would, Steve Rogers was probably the best out of all of them. He was stubborn and determined, selfless, kind, gentle, heroic, the list goes on. If Issac continued, they would be there all night.

Steve, seeming to notice that Issac was about to fall back into his whirling thoughts, reached out and lightly grabbed his uninjured shoulder.

"Will you be okay? You don't have to come with us, you took a pretty bad hit. Nobody would be mad if you stayed behind to rest."

"Are you kidding?" Issac scoffed, looking up at the male incredulously. There was only a few inches of height difference between them, but it was enough for Issac to have to tilt his head upwards slightly to make eye contact with him. "You think I'm just going to kick my feet up, sit back and let you get yourself killed? That's funny Rogers."

Steve's lips quirked up into an actual smile as Issac's usual snarky, and almost mean, personality returned. He was worried for a moment, but seeing the male revert back to himself slowly, but surely, was more than reassuring. It gave him a boost of energy he hadn't realized he needed, some of the heaviness leaving his limbs and he fog in his mind clearing out a bit.

"Let's go then. It's time."

Issac looked him up and down slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't exactly have your suit anymore, Rogers."

Steve just grinned at him, shaking his head as he lightly nudged him in the direction of the building once again.
"Don't worry about that. I've got an idea." he then turned around, looking back over his shoulder. "If you're gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform."

Issac decided it would be better not to question him. He returned to where the others were, finding that they were already starting to gear up. The doctor cleaned the wound one last time before wrapping it securely, trying to make sure that it wouldn't be jostled too much if he really insisted on fighting. Hill and Fury lent him a few things, some clothes that would be more comfortable to fight in, as well as a holster for his gun, extra ammunition, as well as one of the cards containing their override program. His job was simple: slip in, replace one of the inserted cards with this one, and slip out. Technology and Maria would do the rest.

When Steve returned, Issac had to do a double take just to confirm he was seeing things right. He'd managed to acquire another Captain America suit, but not just any suit. He was wearing the Captain America suit that had been displayed in the Smithsonian, a near perfect replica of his original suit from 1945. He crossed his arms, tilting his head as he blinked a few times at the blond.

"Since when did Captain America become an expert thief? First you're stealing cars, now something from the Smithsonian Museum-" He teased, grinning over at Steve in amusement. The man just shook his head, lightly swatting at Issac with a grin. Issac easily ducked out of the way, chuckling slightly to himself. This was the easy banter that he enjoyed with Steve, and although it was rare, it gave him some hope that perhaps the two of them could actually get along and become real friends without constantly arguing with each other. But that was something he could think about later, they needed to focus. He reached down, picking up the man's shield, which they'd cleaned some of the dust and soot off of from the fighting before, and handed it over to the male.

"Things were a lot different in 1945." He shrugged vaguely, jerking his head in the direction of the door.

"Come on, we've got work to do."