Steve fell and hit the water. Then nothing. At least at first.
He woke up in a dark room. He was on a mattress, on the floor judging by the distance he was from the roof – or maybe it was a very high roof. He couldn't really tell. His head was hurting and there was tightness around his stomach and shoulder. He looked round without moving. He noticed the doors and windows were panelled shut with wood, but the moonlight was shining through the tiny slits. From this, he could make out an empty bookshelf on his left.
On your left. Sam, Natasha. Fury. Where were they now? He had to find them. He moved his head slightly – then heard the click of a gun.
Steve held his breath.
"I'm with you to the end of the line." The Winter Soldier, no Bucky, said from somewhere in the room. He sounded close, but Steve couldn't see him. "What does it mean?"
Steve breathed out, slowly, and, even slower, lifted his head upwards. The wounds on his stomach and shoulders had been bandaged. That's where the tightness was from. He looked up but didn't see Becky. He heard him move behind him but before he could turn, the barrel of a gun was held to the back of his head.
"Why did you help me?"
Steve blinked. "Wh…"
"You knew I was going to kill you back on that carrier and still you lifted that beam off me. Why?!"
"Because you're my friend."
The gun pressed harder into the back of his head, forcing him to curl into his stomach, into his fresh bullet wounds. Steve grimaced, gritting his teeth against the pain. A metal fist grabbed his hair and forced him down further and he yelled.
Bucky was right next to his ear when he spoke, like reciting a poem. "The Asset has no friends. Only tools and commandeering officers."
"Is that what they told you?"
"Get up."
He did. The Winter Soldier partly dragged him up: Steve's knees were weak and his stomach twisted in protest. His legs wobbled, but Steve steadied himself quickly, feeling the serum taking effect. It would only be a matter of time before he would be ready enough to escape. He looked around once more, getting a better look at where he was. He spotted his shield leant against the bottom of the bookshelf. Bucky must have fished it from the water when he rescued him.
Steve licked his lips. "Why did you help me?"
Bucky growled, fist tightening in his hair. "You are my mission."
"We've had this conversation. You should just kill me already." He could hear Bucky's laboured breathing. The gun nor the metal fist moved. Steve swallowed. "Maybe… maybe you helped me because you knew it was right… Bucky."
"Who is Bucky?" he was screaming now. "Tell me! Who's James Buchanan Barnes?"
Steve felt tears pricking behind his eyes. He swallowed again. "He's… There's an exhibit. In a history museum. Captain America exhibit. You should see it. I don't think you'll have trouble finding it. There's information on James Buchanan Barnes there. It's not a lot, but it's enough to get you started. Make that your mission."
The hand in his hair yanked his head down suddenly and he cried out. Bucky was pressed up against his back, gun to Steve's temple. This close, Steve could see him. He'd been crying. There were tear marks on his mud stained face. "I should finish you off first." He whispered, almost asking, almost unsure, but still with a conviction that terrified Steve.
"Tell me what it means." said Bucky.
Steve stared at him, unable to take his eyes away from his friend – his living, breathing friend. Bucky was staring at him too: desperately. "It means that no matter what happens we'll always be friends, and we'll always be together because that's how it was from the start, and no matter…" his voice trembled and tears were coming to his eyes now, but he kept Bucky's stare and kept going. "No matter what the world threw at us, we'd make sure it ended the way it began."
"Til the end of the line." Bucky whispered. Then he let him go and stepped back.
Steve turned, "Bu…" he began, but Bucky lunged forwards and stuck something sharp in his neck. Then he was tumbling back into unconsciousness again.
A.N: Supposedly he wakes up next to Sam now. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?