A/N: This one-shot was inspired by a meme the author found on Tumblr. It's been reblogged to the author's Tumblr account under the name theicemenace, and includes a link to .
No Beta, so all mistakes are mine. If you see anything that needs correcting, PM me.
Namaste,
Sunny
Captain America
A Whisper on the Shore
Tag to Winter Soldier
The sound of the ship disintegrating reverberated around the Asset, changing over to cacophonous groaning, and the horrid screeching of metal as it was twisted and torn. It sounded like the death throes of some great beast as it succumbed to the premature end of its life.
The Asset turned his head, watching as one of the engines smashed through the catwalk where he and the other man had fought minutes before, knocking the man into space. He fell in slow motion, as if time itself had slowed down.
As he fell, the Asset snagged one of the cross struts with his metal arm, dangling above the water, and watching his opponent fall into the river, plunging beneath the surface.
In that moment, he made an independent decision, the first he'd made in many decades. The Asset let go, falling through the air. Looking down, he could still see the amorphous form of the other man sinking deeper under the waves. Then he too hit the water. The impact was hard enough to reseat his dislocated shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, and inhaling a lungful of water.
On the surface, he took a deep breath, and dove under the water, searching for the man who'd called himself Steve. The man who insisted that they'd once been best friends.
As the Asset, he didn't have friends. He had handlers, and doctors, and a team that backed him up on his missions. But no one he could talk to about his day, share confidences, or laugh with. Had he done such things in the past? The images blinked in his brain like an old time moving picture where you cranked a handle to view them, only his were out of order, or so it seemed.
He reached out with his metal arm, grabbing the man, grabbing Steve by the shoulder strap of his uniform. Though the pain of his injuries was agonizing, he used his right arm to propel their combined weight through the water until he could touch bottom, and drag Steve onto the shore. He dropped the heavier man in the mud, and stood over him until he was certain he was alive.
Steve took a shuddering breath, and another, and another, a thin trickle of water coming from the side of his mouth.
Inside his head, the Asset began the process of changing the way he thought of himself, and how he related to the world. As of today, no one would tell him what to do, or how to live. He would be his own man once more. Picking, and choosing for himself. Straightening his back as much as possible, he told himself that he was no longer a tool, a slave for his captors to use as they saw fit. He was no longer the Asset. His name was James Buchanan Barnes.
"My name is Bucky."
He wanted to stay, to make sure that Steve would be alright. However, his instinct for self-preservation took over as the shrill whine of emergency vehicles came closer, disturbing the relative quiet of the river bank. There was just one last thing he had to do.
Going down on one knee, his right arm close to his body to ease the pain, Bucky leaned close enough to whisper in Steve's ear, "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."
Bucky stood, turned, walked into the grove of trees that grew along the shore, and didn't look back.
The End