Emergence

All characters belong to Marvel Comics

I own nothing

{This story is dedicated to all the wonderful and talented fans.}

'Is my name James Buchanan Barnes?'

It was a haunting grim question that gripped him to the bone. Of all the torment he endured in his lifetime; this one truly rare pang of agony that wedged the Winter Soldier's butchered heart into a clamping vise.

He had become a nameless wraith birthed into the molten pools of HYDRA's iron cauldron. Resurrected, nonetheless.

For three weeks, he'd been traveling unfamiliar streets; harboring onto languished, distorted memories that were scattered through the fractured recesses of his altered mind.

It had grown into an internal battle, an ongoing war to fight alone without the security of structured orders containing his savage and brutal impulses to hunt. He was plagued with detained glimpses of another lifetime. He felt the stirrings of the defiant ,honorable man that his superiors tried to bury with electronic pulses and ice, his true self grinding in search for release out of the imprisonment from the indestructible, unbeatable and intimating body.

... The fist of HYDRA ...

There was arising hope between paces of heartbeats and dominating thoughts, a distant, trusting voice that kept his faltering posture steady on the solid ground holding him firm against the raging storms he faced. A discovered memory that steered him away from the damning coldness threatening to encase him back into layers of black ice, a fathomless void.

Flashes of vibrant, symbolic colors of freedom and liberty guided him through a recourse of a paradox that seemed to lead him forefront into a moment of untainted and reserved pain.

-Flashback-

It was a standoff between two oppressive forces of sentiment and brutality. Captain Steven Rogers stood only a few feet away on the steel grated catwalk above planes of enforced glass; staring down at the Winter Soldier in an unyielding stance, his solid and statuesque body firm and overbearing; tension encompassed the air and his passive, stern blue eyes held an unbidden plea of the thousands of lives that were become destroyed within minutes if the fight meant no victory—HYDRA would reform the world, ash would paint the streets—no freedom—no humanity to believe in, just enslavement in the chains of new order.

Hell on earth. Steve whispered under his breath. He leveled his unwavering stare down at the soul, he still believed was his friend, but he had to save Bucky-no matter the cost.

"Don't do this, Buck," his voice contained a stilled edge of urgency, but remain calm enough to arouse mercy from the wrathful glare of death staring back at him behind dark tresses of unkempt wolfish brown hair.

He breathed in his reservations, mustering the strength to face his guilt that purely dwelled in the azure irises of the Soviet assassin. He held Bucky's vicious gaze. "I don't want to fight you..."

Bucky drew out his combat blade, edges jagged to slice into flesh. His muscles lurched underneath his tactical uniform, and then he propelled with full, unstoppable momentum, charging at Steve with lethal hunger evident in his feral blue eyes. He was a killer-the murderous hunter ordered to finish his directive with no falter of hesitation in his thundering boot steps.

Steve was quick with response time, he tossed his shield, aiming it Bucky with direct precision to take him out cold; but the enhanced assassin was fast, drawing his guns and firing the alloy at point-blank range. He pivoted with balletic movement, swift and intense, knocking the shield with his metal fist as he returned to Steve who advanced forward, crouching his massive body into a blocking stance as bullets created dinging noises off his shield.

Blinding flashes of discharging ammunition reflection in their feverish blue eyes as bodies clashed, teeth gritted and sweat poured. It was becoming a fight for their lives, no more attempts to balance emotions, just raw survival between to soldiers who denied the sense of defeat.

Steve felt his jaw pulse. His chest muscles constricted as his gums tingled with retrained numbness. He was fighting against the relentless force of Bucky's metal arm, holding his ground as viscous punches vibrated into his bones, while being effected by the searing betrayal that was left laden over his heart.

"Bucky," Steve tried again, more depth of desperate emotion residing in his breathless tone. His thoughts were subdued by weaves of compromising guilt. It was his fault—he should have been the one who received punishment, no his best friend. "Stop." He was committed to prevent Bucky from engaging ruthless assault."This isn't you...Buck."

The Winter Soldier clenched his thickly squared jaw, seething out his aggression. His blue eyes livid with malice—alerted contempt. Something dangerous became activated in his evolved system.

When Steve rammed his weight backwards from the catwalk, the Winter Soldier felt the charges of merciless power spike, the metal digits clutched the handle of his knife as glitches of untamable intent controlled his violent, demented movements; breath grew hot in his throat and blood melted on the fullness of his dormant lips.

He took a second to recalculate his initial attack on the acquired target (level six agent) ; once he found an exposed weakness, he lowered his stance, broad shoulders rolled and locked, armed spread apart: one hand gripping a knife, the other a loaded gun, and he charged directly at Steve, slashing his blade wildly into the air, while the super-soldier dodged every slice that was breadth away from his slacken jaw.

Another wicked slash of the knife, barely missed Steve's shoulder as he hunched a foot lower and side-stepped an inch away from the wielding blade; bolting upright Steve bashed the shield into the Winter's Soldier's face, knocking him off balance. Time was limited. So much was at stake. He needed to focus on the mission, to stop Project Insight from launching a full assault of laser canons on the targeted population already logged for termination :one mistake would result collapsing in the amiss of failure—seemingly endless devastation.

His gloved hand was reaching to place the tampered chip into the console; he couldn't afford to turn a blind eye; the stench of the sweat and leakage of outpouring jet blood hazed his senses, and yet Steve felt his leader born strength, the merging heat to fight against the searing coldness shrouding over him. Sensing body heat, Steve automatically twisted around in second his glistening blue eyes caught the sheen of blade; Steve gripped Bucky's flesh shoulder, forcing HYDRA's brainwashed asset to relent a step back; pain unfolded in his chest as tried to avert his stare away from his friend's contorting face of dark, morbid lust to execute his -final- mission.

"Bucky..." Steve breathed, strained and ragged. His trust in Bucky was instinctual-unbroken-and he always trusted his gut instincts. Sure, it was a long shot to take a dire risk, but he needed to restore the damage that surfaced in his friend's mind. The mere mention of his true name was enough for The Winter Soldier's blue eyes to glare up at Steve with the malice of an angry predator; an unshakeable appetite burned inside of him that could only be sated with the blood of his lifeless enemy on his hands. That's what he had been made for—that was the only desire wafting through his obedient husk.

Steve swallowed back the bulk of remorse inside as he looked at his rabid opponent whose senses were fogged as he swam in a sea of red. Reason would not draw Bucky back—not right now. Steve could not afford to hold back with him—not when the lives of millions hung in the balance. He had to take him down. Preparing for Winter Soldier's next assault, Steve held his shield at the ready and engaged him, this time with an offensive streak. The sharp whoosh of a knife cutting air was drowned out by the metallic clang of metal colliding with metal as Captain America and The Winter Soldier traded blows between knife and shield—dodging and weaving through each avoided collision with the grace and speed of dancers attuned to the same song.

That song was combat.

When it became clear a hand-to-hand assault would not gain an advantage between the evenly matched opponents, The Winter Soldier spun on his feet, building momentum to deliver a devastating roundhouse kick. Steve dodged the blow with equal efficiency, ducking low and using his calf to block a follow-up leg sweep Bucky aimed at him.

His mind insanely running fast, Steve raised his shield in time to block a right hook aimed for his head. The momentum of his blocked attack forced Bucky to stagger back a number of steps; the opening was enough time for Steve to secure the terminal and install the data chips to the system override.

Bucky was at him again not a moment later, swinging his knife for Steve's throat. Not missing a beat, Steve parried the attack with his shield and continued his barrage with The Winter Soldier until both soldiers became locked in a test of strength. The edge of Steve's shield hovered a breath from Bucky's face while the knife leered towards the star-emblem on Steve's chest. Strenuous effort clear and rampant across Steve's sweat glistened features while a deadly calm glared back at him from baleful eyes.

The cold absence in those eyes shook Steve with the realization he was close to losing focus. Only one data chip had been replaced; there were still more that needed to be handled. Steve gritted his teeth as the metallic plates to Bucky's cybernetic arm shifted beneath the struggle. Eager to end this tug of war, Steve reached down and pulled the knife free of The Winter Soldier's grip, surprising him. Steve wasted no time and struck with a thunderous front kick to the torso, sending Bucky stumbling back on his feet. Gaining a nick of time, Steve rushed to replace the next data chip to the system override only to have The Winter Soldier's cybernetic fist collide with his shield he raised it in time to deflect the blow.

'I can't keep this up,' Steve realized with a grunt of frustration. Bucky didn't need to stop him to succeed, he just needed to keep him distracted long enough for the Helicarriers to take aim and fire their wrath on Hydra's targets. '…I have to take the fight to him…I'm sorry, Bucky.' Steve thought ruefully, 'I can't let these people die. I won't.' Filled with resolve, Steve threw his weight into The Winter Soldier with newfound strength and shoved him back, away from the override terminal. The Winter Soldier, as if sensing the change in tactic from his opponent, prepared himself for his onslaught.

Steve swung his shield and his fist at Bucky with the speed and ferocity of a cornered animal finally lashing out. Winter Soldier dodged the swings with minimal struggle however as Steve's determination grew, his opponent resolved to use his cybernetic limb to parry the rapid swings.

At this point, Steve felt as though his movements had fallen into auto-pilot mode, his thoughts laid rest while bodily instinct took over. Winter Soldier's body trembled, his shoulders shaking as his breathing became heavy and incensed—dreadful proof to his mounting anger. He sought to turn the tide back in his favor by seizing Captain America's throat, but as quickly as his hand found purchase, Steve swatted it away then swung his own fist and struck Bucky's face hard enough to force him back.

Winter Soldier's deadly calm shattered like fragile glass.

His livid blue eyes snapped towards Steve, bloodthirsty and raging, he charged his opponent with a roar of aggression; tackling him against the rail of the catwalk hard enough to propel them both over the edge and down into the edge of a sloped platform. Steve felt his pulse quicken with alarm as the data chip slipped from his grasp and slid down towards the edge behind Bucky. 'No…' Steeling himself, Steve pulled himself back to his feet as he watched Bucky do the same.

Steve fleeting looked for his shield which had disappeared out of view. The two soldiers charged each other and collided once again, resuming their frustratingly matched skirmish; the balance of power yet to fall into either's favor within the glass chamber beneath the hull of the helicarrier. Below them they could see the landing base outside the Triskelion hundreds of feet below. The daunting view posed no concern to the battling titans. Bucky struck Steve with a sudden back-hand, the impact forced Steve backwards into the air headed down.

Steve landed without missing a beat, sliding towards the edge he reached and picked up the fallen data chip on his way down. Seeing this, Bucky, without thought, slid down after him. Steve felt a prickle of unease at the situation. Bucky—The Winter Soldier—was relentless and seemingly insurmountable in combat; Steve couldn't recall ever fighting a more challenging opponent in his life. Bucky stood to his feet in front of Steve who had barely a moment to regain his breath before Bucky resumed his assault; his efforts proven once again foiling as he forces Steve to drop the data chip down to the glass surface of the lower chamber.

Steve felt his frustration finally begin to settle in. Time was running out—fast. Clenching his teeth, he struck Bucky hard across the face with a driving elbow that knocked him backwards in a daze. Eager to put more distance between them, Steve followed up with a kick to Bucky's ankle; forcing his feet out from under him. A fleeting sense of relief filled Steve as he watched his unyielding opponent fall over the edge.

'Move now, Rogers. Fast!' He jumped down onto the glass of the lower chamber, his sights set on the data chip lying across from him. The path ahead seemed clear as he rushed over to recover it and complete his mission. Dread percolated in his veins the moment he felt a brush of air across the back of his neck that exploded into a winding pain, derailing him from his course. Steve fell hard to the ground, only having a moment to register that his shield had been returned to him by Bucky in the most unexpected and painful way possible. His swimming vision caught sight of Bucky moving in on his position.

He watched as Winter Soldier recovered his lost pistol that had fallen down here from the start of their confrontation. 'Thank God he threw this to me first,' Steve realized as he lifted his shield in front of him in time to protect himself from the hail of bullets being fired at him. 'He just doesn't quit…he never did.' Steve held his position until the click of an empty cartridge rang throughout their battleground made of glass. He stood tall and threw his shield back at Bucky, continuing their violent game of Frisbee. Bucky used his cybernetic arm to angrily swat the vibranium disc off from its trajectory. Reaching back, he pulled another knife from his arsenal and moved in on his target.

Steve prepared himself for Bucky's next attack. He dodged the first swing meant to slit his throat, but as he attempted to block and counter the second thrust did Bucky finally gain the upper hand; the Hydra assassin grasped secured both his hands around his weapon and forced his weight against Steve's. The blade found its purchase into the shoulder, greeted expectantly by the sharp cry of pain from Steve's throat. Captain America felt his blood running both hot and cold around the steel lodged into his shoulder, his pulse pounded wildly in his ears with a deafening tempo.

He allowed it all to sink in and process for a second before he forced his body to retaliate against the assault being waged against it. He threaded his fingers around Bucky's shoulder then threw his head against Bucky's repeatedly. Bucky broke the series of head-butts with a punch to Steve's wounded shoulder, throwing him aside. The super-soldier used the opportunity to pull the knife free from shoulder, grimacing at the flow of crimson that stained his old uniform. Once he looked for Bucky did Steve's blood run colder than the when he had been stabbed.

Bucky was making a move for the data chip…

'No…' Steve had been convinced that Bucky's mission was merely to eliminate him from Hydra's playing field, but now he realized just how far Hydra had ordered him to go. 'Don't do this Buck…' Having no other choice, Steve ignored the pain in his arm and rushed in to stop Bucky before he could destroy the data chip—the only hope at stopping Project Insight from killing millions. One of Steve's hand seized Bucky's wrist to stop him from destroying the chip while the other wrapped itself around Bucky's throat. Until now, Steve had fought Bucky with the strength and discipline of a soldier; a martial artist—but as time and injury began to take its toll, the super-soldier found relied on his strength and aggression to turn the tables.

Despite his injury, Steve lifted Bucky up off the floor and held up in a chokehold; the pain in his arm only outmatched by the one in his soul as he watched his friend's painful looks as he hung at his mercy. Bucky still held the data chip tightly in his hand, almost as if it were welded to him. He still wouldn't give up—not that Steve expected him to. But Steve…he couldn't do this anymore; this fight needed to end. Gritting his teeth, Steve jerked Bucky violently back down to the floor, and trapped Bucky's arm while restraining him against the floor at the same time.

"Drop it, Buck!" Steve demanded. Bucky hissed like a cornered animal as he tried to lash out with one arm against his captor. Steve did his best to block out the anguish he felt from within knowing that it was him putting Bucky through all this physical agony; reminding himself that Bucky wasn't himself and he needed to be stopped even if it meant at these extremes. "DROP IT!" Steve demanded, once more, watching Bucky's hand clench around the data chip.

Steve's heart sank into his stomach. All it would take was one squeeze of his hand for Bucky to end the lives and hope for millions. The rage and desperation boiling inside of him began to come to a head as Steve resolved himself to what he needed to do. It was both the most logical and most difficult thing he needed to do. Squaring his jaw, Steve twisted and listened to the sickening snap followed closely by the howl of agony erupting from Bucky's scowling lips. It was as if a knife had been rammed into Steve's very heart. He closed his eyes, steeling himself with fiery determination to end this fight—to end both of their pains of fighting each other.

Using his strength, Steve forced himself onto his back, pulling Bucky with him until he had his arm secured tightly around his friend's neck—holding him close in a rear-naked chokehold that reminded him of their Brooklyn days grappling with bullies. As expected, Bucky did his utmost to break free of the hold, using the power in his cybernetic arm to help him gain some slack; but Steve was prepared for this as he wrapped his left leg around the metallic limb and held it restrained.

Still Bucky twitched and groaned in both pain and bubbling anger that slowly but surely began to reside. Steve could feel his pulse beginning to relax. He restrained the tears in his eyes; anger, pain, worry, remorse—a tumultuous of emotions rushed through him as he felt Bucky slowly slip into blissful unconsciousness. The data chip slipped through Bucky's fingers—undamaged.

'I'm sorry, Buck, but you left me no choice...' Steve sniffed in dismay, releasing his friend's weight. His blood brother who had fought with the malice of an savage animal but carried the strength and discipline of a machine. What little humanity remained within him was buried beneath sheets of blue ice brutality reflecting back at Steve. He would catch a rare glimmer beneath it, but it was always brief; and yet it gave him hope.

Captain America. He thought. None of it bore recognition, but the name kept his addled mind focused on something true that went much deeper, as images of another man devoured the splotches of red coating his vision. Unanswerable, he trudged further down a narrow alley way, grazing his titanium alloy shoulder plates against the brickwork. Paces of his heart sped up, and blood circulated in his veins.

Deciding to carry his tainted grief further into the darkness, the Winter Soldier stalked in fervent, calculated strides, his fierce pale azure eyes searching for threats. He was marked as ineffective -a rogue asset that would soon be retired by another agent who carried out the same pledge of obedience to HYDRA's will.

His sculpted mass of bulk of raw and unrivaled power was fading underneath ratty layers of clothing he had managed to obtain from card boxes piled in front of the downtown mission.

He didn't consider himself homeless because he truly couldn't grasp what the word "home" meant. Roaming the dim lightened streets had become a struggle to preserve the measures of diminished humanity that lingered beyond the shadows and indomitable coldness surging in his veins.

The Winter Soldier was deemed to become forgotten, his identity had been purged by the sessions of extraction he was forced to endure when endless waves of merciless static devoured his thoughts. His head was always clamped inside a machine, draining the life out of him, frying his veins until blood felt like ash.

'When you wake from your laden slumber, Winter, the world will be different... And time will seem like a fractured memory.'

Fighting against the harsh lashes of frigid wind shuttering through his bones, the Winter Soldier stumbled to regain steady balance, shavings of ice cracked under the weight of his tactical boots. He paused to suppress the deluges of recollection bashing against his skull, his thoughts bled with gory visages of his past; lifeless piles of bodies that he was ordered to execute in the shadows. The nightmares never seemed to fade away.

A small trek of blood dripped from his chapped lips; he could taste the sourness of remorse, but couldn't register the unfamiliar sensations to breathe in the cold rush of air. It was vague attachment to humanity, a sense that he was forced to bury in the ice when the pulses of the machine activated and images of the world that he had seen during his missions buzzed into intense static.

...The man on the bridge...

His heartbeat had been frozen. There was no pulse rippling in his veins, just the searing coldness that encased over bone and flesh. He was distant to his memories, fighting a constant prick of wariness. The light in his drifting soul had been extinguished by the enfolding darkness -the vacant ambiance of death. He felt utterly hollow inside, his bones were frozen as his true existence faded into a white void of severe torment.

The Winter Soldier remade to serve as a brutal reminder of death, a condemned prisoner longing for the taste of freedom. Time betrayed him, twisting and extracting his soul into diminished form of a ghost drifting through the icy divides. The man buried underneath the hollow, murderous semblance wanted liberation from the endless visages of red and black ash, was longer the mission : he truly accepted his fate, and he allowed unbidden guilt to slice through his scarred heart like a knife.

Moving through the sables of darkness in systematical paces, he tucked his metal hand into the pocket of his faded jeans, and narrowed his pale azure eyes ashamedly down at the clusters of snow building against dent sides of cluttered trash cans. Staring blankly into the hollow spaces of unoccupied buildings, felt like a constant revulsion towards the path they had forced him onto with a violent push of control: submission.

He knew that countable risks were too high; scattered thoughts give him no sense of reason to obey the rancid urges pulsing in his cold veins. Everything became unhinged as his intimating presence trudged pass the remnants of urban decay, abandonment buildings and cluttered spaces.

He was alone on his mission.

There was no objective to follow, just laborious instinct and absent thralls of distant memory. It was indecision gravitating him closer to familiar area that emerged from the recesses of his demented mind.

He remembered those harrowing moments of utter rage coursing in his veins, unquenchable thirst to eradicate his laden target pinned underneath the weight of his body, but an abominable voice wavered through the firelight haze of destruction, and allowed him to reclaim a piece of humanity that hadn't been extricate by shards of ice.

-Flashback-

Once he had awoken from the short yet liberating bliss of slumber, the first thing Winter Soldier had felt was the heat; then there was the pain of a crushing weight resting across his torso. Looking down, he grimaced at the sight of a metal beam pinning him against the floor. Fire and ruin surrounded him, its grip tightening like a knot, reducing the glass chamber to a pile of flaming scrap. There was no sign of the target he had been ordered to eliminate. A flicker of dissatisfaction stirred inside of him as he considered the possibility of the target—the one called "Captain America"—having escaped this destruction he brought upon the helicarriers while leaving him to die.

The helicarriers…the helicarriers!

'I have failed…' The thought stirred familiar rueful emotions inside of him: fear and dread. Accompanying those emotions were a litany of painful memories; memories of electroshocks, needles and punishing fists that he would endure each time he failed his objective. 'I have to endure. Each failure; each punishment is a lesson learned.' The cold ideology rushed through his thoughts as if they were an encoded message that followed standard procedure. 'Endure and oblige; I will be rewarded… Hail Hy—' his thoughts were interrupted as he listened to a low-pitched groan coming from his far right.

He made to rise up off the floor, utilizing the summation of his enhanced strength to lift the crushing object off of his body, but he could not gain slack with his good arm pinned. A Russian curse brushed past his tightly pinched lips once he noticed the source of the noise. It was Captain America—the super-soldier and terrorist he had been ordered to purge from Hydra's new world. His target, his enemy his…. 'Why is he still here?' The Winter Soldier could not explain why but the sight of the red, white and blue clad soldier spurred a strange sense of relief as well as rage inside of him. 'This is all his fault.'

His steely azure orbs glared up at his battered and bloodied enemy who despite being pummeled and shot repeatedly still managed to carry himself with great strength and resolve. It was…familiar as well as disconcerting. 'I know him…' The thought tickled the back of his mind as it had been since they crossed paths today; he had ignored it as he had been ordered to, but like an itch that would not stop festering until it had been scratched, it continued to bother him. 'Who are you…'

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Captain America draw nearer to him. 'Perhaps he intends to finish me…' He thought expectantly; it was the most logical move for him to make. His mission was successful, his enemy now helpless—now would be the time to claim sure victory.

The HYDRA assassin squared his jaw, sending a defiant glare Captain America's way... 'What is he doing?' His hardened exterior crumpled into confusion as he watched his enemy struggle to lift the construct off of him. 'Fool,' he thought sourly. Did he expect to take him captive?'

Winter Soldier watched Steve with distrustful eyes. Slowly, but surely, he felt the crushing weight on his body begin to withdraw due to the impressive might of the Captain. The Hydra assassin said nothing as he pulled himself out from beneath the crushing metal; his condemning stare never leaving his target. Almost instantly, he felt his senses assaulted by the weight of his injuries. He could feel the blackened bruises beneath; arduous and painful with each in-take of air. And then there was a white hot inferno raging at his right side where his broken flesh arm hung limply. In his present condition, Captain America's victory over him would be certain.

Bitter seconds passed and no effort for termination had been made.

"You know me," The Captain uttered, his tone so sure it prickled Winter Soldier's denying exterior as it did before. This time instead of feeling cold indifference, the assassin felt frustration. His cybernetic fist coiled into a vengeful fist that lashed out across the Captain's face.

"No, I don't!" He cried, leveling his target back to the floor. If he could succeed in eliminating him; then he would not have failed his mission entirely. He may yet survive and endure. 'Why is he so familiar…' He closed his eyes tightly, fighting against the imbalance that had threatened to distract him. "Yes…you do," came The Captain's infuriating rebuttal as he shifted back onto his feet. His will to reach out every bit as strong as his might. 'Why isn't he fighting back?' The question was troubling; as was the throbbing ache at the corner of Winter Soldier's subconscious that compelled him to give the matter more thought—to listen and to remember. 'Don't! You're the Fist of Hydra. He's trying to trick you…'

"Bucky…You've known me your whole life," The Captain entreated—his voice so earnest; so painstakingly familiar, the Winter Soldier wanted nothing more for him to stop—to just leave—to run. 'That name again…Bucky'. It felt like a match igniting a fuse that would certainly lead to his ruin…and yet, there was something about the name that felt warm—that felt true—that felt…tragic. An emptiness grew within him, he was painfully aware of its vastness that could swallow him the longer he dwelled on it. 'I'm not… stop… Don't. NO!' He lashed out again at the Captain with a vicious backhand; determined to stop his humbling words the only way he knew how.

'Are you so dumb not to run away from this fight—', his breath hitched in his throat. At the back of his mind, the itch intensified as if there were something—or someone-struggling against a wall—a barrier –erected there long ago by deceiving hands to keep him under control. What lingered on the opposite side scratched and clawed at the wall of obedience and oblivion to be free—be remembered. 'What is happening to me?' Fear and unease gripped him from the inside out. 'Fight on, soldier; he's lying to you!'

"Your name is James…Buchanan…Barnes—" The Captain continued, unwavering, only to be struck again, harder than before.

"SHUT UP!" Winter Soldier seethed in a fierce roar, the force of his swing sending him down to his knee, and the Captain down across the deteriorating glass floor. Around them the glass of the chamber began to crack, howling winds shook the two battered soldiers who both struggled to their feet; their faces washed with blood, soot and sweat—neither of them cared nor showed fear. The Captain discarded his helmet, his azure blue orbs meeting an identical pair with… remorse.

"I'm not gonna to pick a fight with you, Buck…" In an act that befuddled and enraged The Winter Soldier, Captain America discarded his shield—his emblem—letting it slip through the hole in the glass and into the great drop hundreds of feet down. Blood dripped over his busted lip, and breathed seemed ragged. He chanced a mirroring stare, benevolence evident in his watery beseeching eyes, blurring in the disarray. It was painful to wheeze out an effective, but certain refusal not the back down from the fight.

The stabbing realization pierced through Steve's heart. He was responsible for turning Bucky into a mechanical, ravaging monster because he failed to reach out for Bucky's marred hand in that heart rendering moment when the brotherly smile faded into a look of acceptance and dread.

He wasn't close enough, his fingers couldn't reach, and the ice was relenting. Bucky fell, screams echoed and tears stung. He had a second chance to make it right again, to finally reach out to and pull his friend close to him like a life line. Every ounce of his blood heated with an aching promise that crippled his spirit. "You're my friend…I would never hurt you."

'You do know him…' A voice breached his inner wall in a broken whisper, its impact causing a shiver to run through him, his stomach twisted into knots and his breathing became heavy. 'Stop talking. Stop thinking…Stop…' the somewhat louder and obedient voice within him chided. Winter Soldier glared at the Captain, frustrated and confused by his willingness to drop his guard and continue with this charade that gnawed at him, made him question himself—made him ask questions period; when all he wished to do was silence its source.

His frustration reaching its apex, the Winter Soldier snarled as he tackled his opponent down to the floor close to the edge of a gaping hole in the surface. "You don't know me!" He hissed. Blood tainted his tongue. Pain became incessant as the rigid force of his metal fist pounded into face of his laden, rivaled opponent.

It grew into a brutal and unforgiving melee, the Winter Soldier's corrupted vicious power was unstable as he rammed all reservations of aggression into Steve's jaw; knocking the blonde soldier's head back with a merciless jerk.

Steve didn't fight back, he allowed the HYDRA assassin to unleash every ounce of his enhanced strength making Steve's chiseled features become littered with discolored bruises and oozing red gashes; lines of blood slicked over his sculpted cheekbones and his bottom lip split open in the wake of cold metal scraping over his swollen flesh—Steve willingly accepted the unrelenting punishment jostling through his bones.

The world bled away, the Winter Soldier's menacing face was parallel to Steve, his livid blue eyes revealed glimmers of shredded remains of human existence, but there was a hint of hesitation that conveyed over his grimacing expression, almost remnants of a struggle that riddled Steve's heart with the utmost of agony.

Sweat and tears stung in his eyes, and lips broke apart, drawing out a wheezing breath of submission as the metal dug into his cheek. Steve coughed up a spray of blood and the air in his rattled lungs sucked against his battered ribs as he tried with all measures of anguish to reach out to the man that was trapped behind those cold, detached eyes.

"Bucky...Please stop this..." His vision was blurred as his eyelid swelled and the blemished flesh of his skin bloated, all that veiled his sight was a haze of pulsing red. Another exhaling rasp tore from his raw throat. Somehow, despite the intrusion of pain barraging through his leaden body, Steve persisted, not yielding to the guilt scraping against the exterior of his heart. "This isn't you, Buck."

"Stop calling me that!" Winter Soldier seethed, a shattering edge in his aggressive tone. Images flashed before his eyes, too fast and blurred to make out. His nerve felt challenged and it only served to aggravate him back into ravenous focus.

"You're my mission…" He growled in a low, abrasive voice, as he continued to pummel his opponent with his metal fist. "YOU'RE. MY. MISSION!" His tone grew more desperate—more emotional and heavy—with each word and fist that connected in sync.

His hands were shaking as he raised his fist; determined and hesitant to put an end to it all—faster than the looming destruction that would soon consume them aboard this falling ship.

He gazed down at the Captain's swollen and blooded face, ignoring the desperate cry coming from the back of the wall in his mind that grew louder and stronger now with each breath he took. He was unaware of a wetness coating his eyes, but he felt his heart pumping into dangerous overdrive against his chest so fast he could feel the flooding pulse clog his ears. The sight of his devastated and beaten opponent widened the growing pit in his roiling stomach; tightness seized his chest—he felt like he was suffocating.

"Then finish it…" The Captain…Steve drew out a weak pitch of his straining voice, his azure eyes dimming with impending exhaustion. His soul had disengaged to surrender.

Pain was accelerating through his veins, and blood aimlessly fell over his split lip, as he watched life flicker inside the metallic depth of desensitize blue eyes—a confirmation that Bucky still existed under the visage of HYDRA's menacing phantom.

Gripping onto his inner reserves of strength, Steve regarded the distorted shadow of his best friend with all measures of unyielding sincerity gleaming in his blurring eyes. A semblance of agony splayed over his chiseled, bloodied face. He choked up a steady, defiant breath that carried an unbreakable promise, forged by blood, tears and intrepid Brooklyn spirit. Tears streaked over the gashes and welts that Bucky's crushing fist had pounded into a vulnerable layer of skin.

At first, Steve stared into the sinister, metallic gaze of fatal rage, in those vicious and unpredictable moments of balancing power and will; he gave Bucky a permissive chance for a redemption. "...because I'm with you till the end of the line."

The wall shattered within. Winter Soldier felt his world come undone.

'What have I done?'

With the coldness spiking in his veins, Bucky listlessly carried onward, searching for an escape out of the delirium of endless torment. He didn't know what direction to follow; every nightmarish, maniacal image of his stolen past took possession of his rewired mind; dark silhouettes of lifeless bodies sprawled on a canvas of blood and the potent stench of extracted gunpowder.

He didn't deserve to find peace-reverence- from the thralls of ravaging pain that seemed to split his reconciling heart open when torrents of savage impulses controlled the mortal sentiment he tried to harbor back. All he could do was allow the untainted, corrosive memories of unwarranted sentiment that would guide his passive spirit to where he needed to be.

Underneath the impassive exterior, Bucky needed to feel the embrace of security. He needed a friend to stop him from falling, to hold on to him and raise him up in the amidst of surviving in the hordes of darkness, while gathering pieces of a shattered reflection; it was the only innate act of compliance that kept his fueling defiance stable enough to disentangled out of weaves from his tantalized programming.

Breathing in a lungful of frigid air, the assassin staggered with faltering boot steps, inexplicably wandering closer to place that offered sanctuary for a wayward ghost in search of peace from the unforgiving, corrupted world, he was done running.

'Is this home?'