I just saw Captain America: The Winter Soldier last night. And wow. Just wow. The stuff going on with the Winter Soldier (aka Bucky) just sets off so many emotions and feelings... I had to write this little scene. It goes along with a song- No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine.

Enjoy- and please leave a review!

No Light, No Light

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away

-Florence + The Machine

Every Tuesday night, he came to this bar. The star spangled pain-in-the-ass. Rogers, was his name. Steve Rogers. He hadn't known that before.

The Winter Soldier, tucked safely inside the warm fabric of a dark hoody and jeans, watched silently from the roof of a building as Rogers pulled his motorbike into his usual parking spot and killed the engine. His eyes narrowed as he watched him throw the keys in the air and catch them after he had dismounted, pocketing them.

His target. His mission. This man should have died. He was beaten to a bloody pulp. He had fallen into the water. He should have drowned.

But something had disturbed him as he watched the man who would not fight him fall from the burning craft they had been on. It disturbed him enough that he could not just let him go. He could not just let him die.

Now that Hydra was taken down, he was on the run. A fugitive. He had no place to go. He didn't know who he was, only that he was trained to kill in order to better the world for humankind.

Only… he wasn't even human himself. He didn't think like humans. He didn't act human. He was superior—at least that's what he'd always thought. But now? Now he was lost.

Who was he, really?

And who was the man who was now inside the bar, most undoubtedly chatting it up with the blonde who had taken an interest in him two weeks ago? The man who would not fight him. The man who gave him a name.

Bucky. It was a playful, pet name. And yet… it struck a chord in him. Was it familiarity? Was that once his name?

He looked to the sky. He could see no stars—the city lights blocked them all out. The blank, dark sky made him think of his own, blank slate. He had no pinpricks of light to guide him by. No clue as to who he really was in the past.

His gaze went back down to the bar. There was light down there. An artificial light. It would have to do until he could find a piece of real light to hold on to.

And right now, that was Steve Rogers.

He ordered a cold beer, and settled himself across the room.

Rogers, as he had expected, was sitting on a bar stool, utilizing his charming smile on the blonde. As the Winter Soldier watched, a nagging in the back of his brain began to distract him. He had the vague sense that he'd seen this before, somehow. It wasn't quite déjà vu —but there was a familiarity to this situation. The fact that it was a comforting feeling put him more at edge—it wasn't a feeling he was used to. He was afraid to let it reign. So he forced it away. No. He was cold, unfeeling. He had slaughtered people, was bathed in a violent past. There was no room for those inconvenient and distracting feelings.

Instead, he focused on his curiosity, his new mission. The mission he gave himself.

He was going to figure out who he was. And he was going to do it through this man, somehow.

But something held him back.

It wasn't fear. No, he would not allow himself to admit to that. The fear of the unknown. No. He did not fear.

So then what was it?

Rogers stood, tipped the blonde bartender, and began to leave. At the door, however, he paused, his eyes wandering.

The Winter Soldier averted his gaze. Humans could normally sense when they were being watched, and especially so when they were superhuman.

That was something he and Rogers had in common. They weren't quite human—not really. Rogers was more so than him, but he was still different. A super human.

When he finally allowed himself to look back at the door, Rogers was gone. This was his cue to leave as well.

The moment he stepped outside, however, something was off. He could sense it. He froze, listening, scanning his eyes across the darkened street. The artificial light fell on him, which made him uncomfortable.

Then, he saw him.

Rogers. He was across the street. And he was looking straight at him. He had been waiting.

The Winter Soldier mentally kicked himself for being so sloppy. His presence was never detected so easily.

The two of them stood there for a moment, not saying a word. The Winter Soldier's heart rate picked up. He had to get out of there, away from this man.

He turned left, and started to walk away. After a moment's pause, Rogers began walking in the same direction. Something leaped and twisted in the Winter Soldier's gut. Annoyance? Irritation?

…Fear?

No. He did not fear.

With a scowl, he burst into action. He dove into the next alley, running down the length of it. He swung himself onto a fire escape, and deftly pulled himself up to the top, not bothering to use the stairs. Once he was on the roof, he took off running, aiming for the next roof. He glanced back once to see if Rogers had followed. When he did not see the blonde menace, he turned back to focus on his jump.

…And slid to a halt instead, the gravel rolling beneath his heels.

Rogers was on the roof he had been aiming for. His hands were held out as if he were confronting a hurt animal. "Bucky… I know that's you."

Bucky. That infuriating name again.

The Winter Soldier made his move. He jumped, but instead of jumping onto the roof Rogers was on, he fell between the gap. He landed, letting the air whoosh from his lungs, then straightened, and ran.

The chase was on.

And Rogers was determined. The Winter Soldier always knew when he was getting too close when Rogers would yell out that name. Bucky. It was something you'd name a pet.

To his amazement, he noticed his heart was thumping unusually loudly. It couldn't be the physical strain—it took a lot of that for his heart rate to become this noticeable.

You're afraid, a voice in his head hissed. You're weak, a frightened animal… That's why you didn't let him die. You're pathetic.

Weak.

Afraid.

He shoved these thoughts away, and jumped onto yet another roof. He would prove he was not weak. He would prove he was not afraid.

Why was he running?

It's not like Roger was a threat.

He could finish him off, complete his last mission from Hydra.

Yes. He would do that. He knew Rogers was right behind him. He made to jump onto another roof, but when he jumped, he let himself fall, then clutched the roof he had just jumped off of, and used it to swing himself back up and kick Rogers square in the jaw.

The force caused him to stumble back.

The Winter Soldier was back on the roof, and he slowly straightened himself, lazily approaching his target. The grace with which he moved was definitely not human. He was flawless, elegant. The perfect killing machine.

Rogers had hopped back onto his feet, holding out his hands once again, as if to calm him.

"Bucky… I know you've been following me. I know you're confused. I have answers. You just need to listen to me. We can—" The Winter Soldier swung at him. Rogers ducked, and spun away. The Winter Soldier had expected this move, and grabbed his arm, yanking him back so he could snap it.

But Rogers was too quick. He twisted around and slugged him hard in the stomach. The Winter Soldier brought up his knee and felt it connect with Rogers's jaw with a crack. Roger tried to knock the feet out from under him. The Winter Soldier shoved him so hard that he fell to the ground.

He took this opportunity to put him into a head lock, prepared to choke the life out of him. Or break his neck.

Rogers somehow managed to swing him over his body. His back hit the gravel, and he slid a few inches. He scrambled back to his feet just as Roger did.

"Bucky. Bucky, please."

Something snapped in the Winter Soldier. A white, hot fury. "Stop calling me that!" he screamed, and charged forward.

Another bout of fighting ensued. Roger kept playing defensive, which infuriated the Winter Soldier further. Why didn't he fight back? He would get tired eventually. Or slip up. Rogers was good, but the Winter Soldier was better. In the end, he would come out on top.

"You're afraid, Bucky," Roger gasped at one point. "Please, just let me explain…"

"You were my mission," the Winter Soldier spat. "And I failed it. I'm finishing it off. Tonight."

He swung, but Roger took a step back, shaking his head. "No, you won't. You saved me from drowning that day. I know you did. I know you felt something… You knew I was telling the truth."

"I don't care about what you have to say to me," the Winter Soldier snapped. "It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again."

More punches were thrown. More grappling. When he had the chance, Rogers spoke again. "Then why didn't you do it a month ago? Or two? It's been that long, Bucky."

The Winter Soldier growled in frustration, and drew back his arm for another punch. But instead of aiming it at Rogers, he swung around, and sunk his fist into the metal wall to his right. It left a good-sized indent.

Panting, the Winter Soldier fell to his knees. He grabbed fistfuls of gravel. Threw them off the roof with a scream. Unbidden, tears rolled down his face.

"Who are you?" he yelled. His voice was raw, hoarse. Piercing. "Why won't you fight me?"

Rogers didn't lower his stance. He didn't smile. He looked upon him with something that perhaps infuriated the Winter Soldier even more—was that pity?

"Bucky…"

"Don't call me that," he hissed.

Rogers ploughed right on as if he hadn't heard him. "I'm your friend. You took care of me when no one else did. Don't you remember? I was the scrawny kid way back when. Couldn't even get into the army to serve my country. We accomplished missions together, Bucky. To fight Hydra. And the Nazis. You were my wingman."

The Winter Soldier listened, panting, eyes glazed as he stared at the gravel. He was still on his hands and knees. He shook his head. "I have no memory of that," he spat. "It doesn't matter anyways—that's in the past. I'm different now. I kill, I follow Hydra's orders…"

"Hydra is gone now, Buck. You can start anew. A clean slate."

He shook his head viciously, ignoring the hot liquid that ran down his cheeks. The words that tumbled out of his mouth next came unbidden. "What did they do to me?"

There was silence. The Winter Soldier's hands clenched into fists as wave after wave of white hot rage hit him.

What was he?

Who was he?

What was his purpose?

A light hand touched his shoulder. The Winter Soldier reacted with the speed of a cobra. He threw Rogers back, and hopped to his feet, eyes blazing. "Stay away from me," he growled threateningly. "And maybe I'll let you live."

Rogers watched him from the ground. Didn't say a word. His jacket had become unzipped after their scuffle.

A white star peeked through.

He was wearing his suit under his clothes.

But the star… the star gave the Winter Soldier cause to pause. It gave no light. But it was a star. Something the dark sky was so desperately lacking. Something he was desperately lacking.

Something twisted in his gut. Seeing Rogers on the ground like that, looking at him with such clearly conflicting emotions… he suddenly felt….

Protective? Was he feeling protective of this menace, this threat?

…The source of his fear?

An image flashed across his mind. A gangly boy who was easily two heads shorter than he, sprawled against garbage cans and old cardboard boxes in an alley, blood pouring from his nose.

The image went as quickly as it had come.

Shuddering, the Winter Soldier viciously shook his head, backing away.

And then, he ran.

Rogers did not follow.