Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This is just a little one-shot I thought would be fun. I have tried, as in another Narnia one-shot, to honor Lewis' writing style. Therefore, there are sometimes missing commas or very little description during dialogue. Those little things, which I would not normally write, are taken straight from the books. I hope y'all like this. Please, please, please review!

The only thing on Bucky's weary, tortured mind was to run. He could no longer bear the pain caused by all the recent events and revelations, so he had decided to forget them by running. He had run from the city, he had run through the open spaces where there were no buildings, and he was now running inside a dense forest.

The sun was gone now, and the darkness of night combined with a thick fog forced him to finally pull to a halt, panting hard. His brain still reeled as the shell of a soul that was once Bucky seemed to scream in eternal pain. He began to walk, and he continued walking for a long time. Finally, when he could no longer hold in his anguish, he let out a long mournful yell.

"I do think," said Bucky, "that I must be the most unfortunate man that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except me. The Howling Commandos were all honored as heroes; I was taken prisoner. All the Allied soldiers were all snug as anything in their homes: of course I was the one who remained in torment and captivity. The whole of Europe must have cheered when Germany fell, but I never knew victory."

And being tired and having nothing inside him, Bucky felt so sorry for himself that tears rolled down his cheeks.

What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Bucky discovered that someone was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Bucky got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.

The Thing (unless it was a Person) went on beside him so very quietly that Bucky began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn't be imagination! Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left cheek.

He went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.

"Who are you?" he said, scarcely above a whisper.

"One who has waited long for you to speak," said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

"I can't see you at all," said Bucky, after staring very hard. "Oh please—please go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!"

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. "Tell me your sorrows."

Bucky was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had gone off to war and experienced the horrors of battle. And then he told the story of his unit's captivity and his torture; and of all the dangers of the following battles. And he told of his fall from the train and his being captured by Hydra; and all the murders he had committed after being brainwashed and how he had wounded Steve.

"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.

"Don't you think my story is completely awful?" Bucky asked.

"It all had a purpose," said the Voice.

"What on earth do you mean? How do you know?"

"I was the writer." And as Bucky gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. "I was the writer who brought the greatest military power to destroy the evil of Hitler. I was the orchestrator who caused you to be taken captive so Steve would save your unit. I was the sovereign planner who allowed Zola to experiment on you so you would survive your fall. I was the organizer who guided people to your location so that you would not die in the ice and snow. I was the author who gave you a way to stay alive for seventy years so that you could see Steve again. I was the composer who created a situation where you would confront your friend and so break free from Hydra's bonds. And I was the king you do not remember who came into this world, taking on flesh, and died so that justice could be appeased and your sins forgiven."

"Who are you?" asked Bucky.

"Myself," said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again "Myself," loud and clear and merry: and then a third time "Myself," whispered so softly that you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Bucky was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would harm him. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.

The mist was turning from black to gray to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the trees around him quite easily now. A golden light fell on him from the left. He thought it was the sun.

He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than a horse, a Lion. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.

Bucky knew very few facts about Jesus, having not paid close attention any of the times he had attended church. And of course he knew none of the stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. Even if he had known about either, he would not have guessed that they were the same Person. But after one glace at the Lion's face, he slipped to his knees and fell at its feet. He couldn't say anything but then he didn't want to say anything, and he knew he needn't say anything.

The High King above all kings stooped toward him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. Bucky was alone on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.

So, what do you think? This was always my favorite scene in The Horse and His Boy, and it seemed like Bucky was the sort of character that could use such a talk from Aslan. Please leave me some feedback, and if you're interested in other Narnia crossovers or other Winter Soldier crossovers, check out my other stories. Thanks for reading!