Save Me, Steve. // Captain America

6- Steve

Sometimes I wonder what's going on inside that messed up brain of his. Whether Bucky is actually there or not.

Actually, scratch that. All the time.

The way he looks at me as I semi-spill my heart out to Falcon when I think he's sleeping is so pure it catches me off guard. I'd seen my friend again in those eyes.

The friend I used to love. 

Still love.

And this time he didn't look at me like he wanted to put a bullet in my brain when I reminded him, accidentally or not, of something from our past life.

And yes, I mean life. As in the singular not the plural.

Our life.

The life that I'd grown so attached to, the life that was ripped from our hands when Bucky fell from the train and was thrown back at me mutilated and wiped clean of all our memories and feelings.

It makes me want to gag. Or cry.

Maybe even both.

The thoughts that run through my head as we sit awkwardly in the van are so muddled and unorganised that I'm not paying attention when the van suddenly lurches forward, the back end rearing up and threatening to overtake the front where Natasha sits.

My heart suddenly accelerates, and beside me I can hear Falcon cursing so loud it would've hurt my ears if not for the groaning sound of metal being bent in a way it's not supposed to be bent.

As the van continues to flip over, everything slows down immensely as I glance over to Bucky out of habit whenever there's danger.

He's already staring at me, his eyes wide and dark with fright but not with fear for his own life, I can tell. He doesn't have the capacity to care for himself.

He's fearing for my life.

Bucky always thought about other people; he viewed his life as irrelevant whenever there was another person in danger. 

He was the perfect soldier.

I have to find a way to get to Natasha. If the van continues to bend and flip over like it's doing then she'd be crushed completely.

I begin to leap up out of my seat and reach for my shield when Falcon pulls me back down onto the bench, shaking his head.

"I'll get Natasha," He yells, "You get screaming boy."

He points towards where Bucky sits breathing so heavily he should have passed out by now, his eyes still fixed on me but yet again in their creepy former state of pitch black. 

He's so close to snapping back into being The Winter Soldier, the assassin who kills at a moments notice.

Falcon has already gone, I've no idea how but that was the way with birds of prey. Sneaky.

By the time I recover from my stupendous bout of confusion, the ceiling of the van smashes into the ground, screeching and groaning as the van slides at a tremendous speed across the concrete ground underneath us until it comes to a halt.

As there are no windows in the back section of the van, there's no possible way to see what just happened or where we are, or even who's attacking us.

How do they even know it's us in the van?

Oh, the modern world confuses the hell out of me. All this technology and tracking devices and hell knows what else is possible.

As the van screeches to a halt, silence and anticipation creeps into the air and I rub my bleeding temple from where I'd been thrown against the hard metal shell of the van.

The doors to the back of the van are suddenly ripped open, revealing half a dozen men in an intimidating black uniform standing with each of their faces half covered up by blood-coloured cloth.

The light blinds me for a second, which is long enough for one of the men to hit me hard over the head with some random hard object as they clamber into the ruined van.

I groan, clutching my already injured head as I scrabble around for my shield which has been tossed away from me out of reach.

It takes me a moment to realise that I'm not being attacked, that the men who've just torn apart our vehicle have just walked straight past me into the van.

What?

No. 

They're after Bucky.

I glance up to see them surrounding him, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth on his heels whilst still on the bench. They hesitate before violently grabbing his limbs, which is when the ear-shattering screaming starts.

But the screaming's not the same as before when he was trying to fight the darkness.

This time he's not in pain as they drag him out of the van kicking and screaming.

He is screaming for me.

His eyes and mouth are wide with shock and fear as he reaches out to me, his fingertips looking like they were about to burst out of their sockets, his long hair sticking to his sweaty, terrified face.

He isn't the Winter Soldier in this moment, the dangerous blank assassin who no one dares to stand in his way.

He is just a blank man, scarred by his horrific and screwed up life who just wants so desperately to have some comfort or safe haven to run to.

And that comfort I realise is me. I dash after the already sprinting men, who are surprisingly agile even when burdened with the weight of a 6ft machine killer. 

An incredibly muscly killer, might I add.

But these men aren't aware of my speed when running after the man I love until I knock one of them unconscious with my shield and kick him out of my way, ready to strike again.

And I do. 

As another mans head comes into contact with my shield sending him crashing to the floor, Natasha and Falcon catch up with me to help fight to save Bucky. Luckily they're both overall unscathed, but they still look pretty shaken up like me.

I haven't got time to acknowledge them as I move onto my next target, but as we defeat the six kidnappers even more men dressed in the same black uniform come pouring out onto the streets of New York that is now littered with broken cars that we had hit on our upside down ride.

There's only three of us, and a hell of a lot more of them.

"Hydra." Natasha whispers behind me, cursing, her voice thick with dread but still laced with authority. A huge shiver runs down my spine as I recognise the word and who the men are. I hold my shield and free arm up in a defensive stance, ready to fight off hoards of HYDRA soldiers to save Bucky.

Whatever it takes, I think.

It's all a blur, how each man steps forward and how we fluidly dance around each other until I end the short routine by knocking them to the ground unconscious. 

With every man I fight off I get further and further away from Bucky, and I glance around to see Natasha and Falcon both locked in their own deadly dances, kicking serious butt like always.

But I can't see Bucky.

At this moment I panic. Not that I wasn't panicking before, but this time I really start to panic.

Especially as I see the body of my other half suddenly go limp as a cloth is pressed to his face.