The winter soldier dragged him from the river, the blond haired man who had refused to attack, who would rather die. He saw him fall and knew that he had to save him. He felt strongly drawn to him, like a magnet. The Winter Soldier fell for him, but had the strange feeling he'd fallen before. He knew him, but he didn't know why. He tried to rack his brain, why was he doing this? This man was his target, he was supposed to be dead . . . and yet he couldn't let him die. Why was he letting him live? If Hydra ever found out . . . he felt sick in his stomach, he couldn't go through that again. He already felt like he'd been broken enough times already.
He knew that he had to run, and hide. They would search for him, they had spies everywhere. They would find him, he wasn't deluded in that fact. He knew how they worked, first hand.
This man, Captain America . . . or Steve Rodgers, he had to find out more about him. He had to know who he was. Steve had obviously known who he was, before Hydra . . . if only he could be that person again. And Bucky, the name sounded like home, and when Steve said it, he felt like there was hope. Like he was being called to warm arms that would never let him go.
He looked down at Steve with his perfectly muscled body and tiny waist. He looked at his wet lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. He pushed the thought away, every second he spend here was a second he couldn't afford to waste. He looked down at the blond again, saw him breathe in and out. He gave a relived smile, why was he so happy that he was alive?
Steve perfect eyelashes flickered and The Winter Soldier walked away without looking back. He was so scared that if he did look back then, he would never want to leave the blondes' side. He was going to stay hidden . . . he was determined to find out more. This was not the end, only a new beginning. This time The Winter Soldier was going to be the hero, not the assassin.