(A/N) Yeah, still supposed to be on hiatus, but Winter Soldier just won't leave me alone.

Strong Enough

He doesn't understand why he did it. He is an assassin…a weapon. It is not in him to show mercy. He has never spared another person's life, let alone saved a life…the life of someone he was meant to kill…and yet…he sees the pain and the longing in those blue eyes…hears the desperation and the heartache in that at once familiar and not familiar voice…and somehow he is moved.

After he drags his failed mark's still-breathing body to the shore, he disappears, watching from the shadows as they come for him, take him to a hospital…and once he knows the other man is safe, he disappears once again…deep inside himself…as he hasn't been able to do for a very long time. All the while, a single question pounds at the inside of his skull.

Why?

Why is he unable to kill this man? Why does he hold so much power over him?

Why?

Why does he feel a trace of heartbreak whenever he's pierced by those eyes?

WHY?

He feels sick, not just the kind of sick from too much shock treatment or the wrong mix of drugs in his veins, but sick in his soul…sick in a heart he hadn't been aware he had until now. That sick feeling is guilt…and it's tearing at him.

Why? Why? WHY?!

As he screams within his own mind, he suddenly finds himself face to face with a young man…a young man who stares at him with pity in his eyes. He doesn't take the time to question whether this is real or unreal. The answer to that question has never done him any good. He simply glares at the young man…the young man who looks oddly familiar.

"Who are you?" he demands, eyes narrowing as he watches the other man watching him.

"I'm not really sure," he answers honestly. "I haven't known that for a long time."

"You do know I can kill you with one hand bound behind my back, yes?" he threatens, flexing his metal arm for good measure.

"Oh, I know that. Even if I don't know me anymore, I know you. They call you the Winter Soldier."

"I suppose you aren't a total loss, then…but if you don't know who you are…what reason do you have to be here?"

"That's easy enough," the young man says, smiling easily. As he smiles, the soldier catches pieces of his mind…his memory. He is almost surprised at how many of them center around his target…the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent…Captain America. The captain hasn't always been a super soldier, but the young man has always cared for him…and despite the fact that these memories cause him great pain, they seem to be full of so much warmth and light.

Playing hide and seek in a dark, dirty alley…sharing a small piece of hard candy and grinning at each other…worrying over every tiny cough…fearing to lose him…unable to help drawing closer even though he knows he will, even if not to death…a dream…a dream of a kiss stolen beneath a bridge…dreams of holding him close and running fingers through his soft hair…of kissing every inch of his body…finally understanding the feeling that's haunted his steps nearly all his life…and when he finally has to go to war, it's so he can protect him. Patriotism has nothing to do with this suicidal choice…only love.

"You love him," the soldier says quietly, slowly starting to see the threads that connect all these memories that are washing over him…that connect him to the young man.

"Yes," the young man replies, voice at once tender and torn.

"I do not understand," he growls at the other man. If he understands the concept of love at all, it's supposed to be a happy thing. Why is there all this pain? Who is this man?

"It's love," he says, the smile on his face pained. "It's not supposed to be understood…only felt."

Felt…feeling…the lack of it…that was what defined him…made him the weapon he was…the inability to feel anything. Though…on occasion, he could feel it…the emptiness inside of him…the hollowness of his used soul…except now…now there is an image…not even an image, really, more of an impression…an impression of a person who stops that loneliness…makes the emptiness go away…makes him feel. The captain…?

"Is that love?" he wonders aloud.

"It sounds like it," the young man says, somehow able to know his thoughts as he is able to know his.

"Show me more," he demands quietly, hungering for more of this strange new feeling, aching to understand it.

A beam collapsing high above an exploding factory…a leap…the young man is safe…but the captain is not. He tries to urge the young man to get to safety, but there is a deadly resolve. He would rather die than leave him behind…than live without him. If he cannot protect him…then he will die with him. There is no life without him.

Not without you.

And then…the captain with a woman…a woman with brown hair. They smile at each other…and there's a feeling of a suffocating in pain and darkness. The soldier can feel that the young man is crying.

"He is not yours," the soldier says quietly, beginning to understand the pain this familiar stranger carries with him.

"No," the young man says bitterly, heart aching with regret. "He will never be mine. Always knew…I would lose him."

The soldier can remember his own dim version of the same…the desire…the need to see him smile one more time…and the agony of knowing he cannot. His is so pale compared to the young man, but it's still more emotion than he's ever felt before.

Again he sees the captain with the woman…feels the heart that is not his heart twist with grief and agony…but also with a profound, despairing resignation. It's not that he's content to watch the captain fall in love without him, but that he's not capable of tearing himself away. He's resigned to his fate…knowing he can never leave…hurting himself by staying…but preferring that hurt to the pain he'll inflict on his best friend should he confess his own true feelings. There's a desperate need for the captain to be happy with that woman, for if he's not, and all his sacrifice has been for nothing…he will go insane.

"You remain like this?" the soldier asks incredulously. "You stay…watching…always in such agony? Why? Why can you not let go?!"

"Because I love him," the young man says, his heart ravaged by years of unspoken, unspent desire. "Because I'm weak…and I can't let him go. Because he needs me…in his own way…and the tiniest bit of comfort I can give him is worth all my suffering."

No, the soldier thinks. That is wrong. It isn't right…to be like that. It isn't right to consign yourself to heartbreak forever…to chain your heart to a hopeless cause simply because you lack the strength to release it.

And as he thinks about it, he realizes that he and this young man are the same. This is the reason why he could not leave the captain for dead…why he calls him Bucky. This is Bucky…he is him…and he can never escape from this revelation. This man whom they love…who can never love them in return…Captain America…Steve!

"Did HYDRA really think anything they could do…could possibly be worse than this?" Bucky asks him.

No! He will not be like Bucky. He cannot! Such intense, constant pain…knowing he could do nothing but watch his love be happy with another…would drive him slowly to madness.

He looks down at the thread that still binds him to Bucky…the very last thread that makes them the same…Steve. He sees a bright smile…and rare, beautiful blue eyes.

You're my friend.

"I cannot," the soldier says. "I'm not strong enough to be that weak."

And as he releases that final thread, his being shatters, drifting apart like dust on a breeze.

Once the confrontation was over, Bucky found himself standing in a hospital room staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Make one wrong move and I blow your brains out," the man holding the gun said. The man with the falcon wings…

Bucky slowly raised his hands. He didn't come here to fight, after all.

He came here for Steve.

"Why did you come here?" Falcon asked him. "What could you possibly still want with him? Your masters are finished."

Still moving slowly, Bucky pointed to Steve, lying comatose in the hospital bed.

"Came for him."

Falcon shook his head. "Uh-uh. No way am I gonna let you hurt him."

This time, Bucky shook his head. "Didn't come to hurt him. I came…to say goodbye."

For a moment, the other man looked uncertain, weapon lowering just a fraction of an inch. "What do you mean?"

"Steve is…everything to me. I had to see him one more time," he said, feeling himself start to plead. The falcon still looked uncertain…but maybe a little like he was beginning to understand.

"Stand down, Sam," another voice suddenly interrupted them. Bucky's gaze darted to the door to see the Black Widow standing there…Natasha Romanoff…and she was looking at him like she knew something. "It's okay. He's different now. I don't know how, but he's changed."

Finally nodding, the man called Sam lowered his gun. "Okay, but remember, one move and it's a bullet in your brain."

Nodding his thanks to the both of them, Bucky slowly approached the bed. It had been a long time since he'd seen Steve like this…beaten bloody…but he still remembered it. Steve had always said he could never understand what it was like…feeling powerless all the time…but that simply wasn't true. He'd felt powerless every time he'd rescued Steve from a fight…powerless in knowing he could never stop him…and powerless in knowing he couldn't help but love him, just the same. He felt that powerlessness now as he took Steve's hand in his, but it was good to feel it…good to feel the old hurt…to know that he could still feel…still love that hopeless, helpless love.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he said softly, massaging the hand he was holding. "You needed me…and I wasn't there. But you have others to look out for you now…people who'll keep you from doing stupid things," he said, glancing at Sam and Natasha. "I just wanted you to know how much I…how much I love you…because I know I'll never have another chance. So…goodbye, Steve," he said tenderly as he leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "I love you."

"Hngh…Bucky…" Steve groaned. Then, before Bucky knew what was happening, the super soldier had him by the ears and was pressing his lips against his in a sloppy kiss…and again, before he could really enjoy it, Steve was collapsing back on the bed, still more asleep than awake. "I wanted…to do that…for so long. Didn't know…how much I loved you…'til you were gone. Don't…don't leave me."

As Steve drifted back into unconsciousness, Bucky just stood there in shock, clutching his hand like a man drowning. Had he really just heard that? Did it really happen? For so long, he hadn't thought it was possible…and now…

"You're not still gonna leave, are you?" Sam demanded of him. "After what he just told you?" After a moment, Bucky nodded.

"I have to…now more than ever. I can't risk that I might hurt him…need to be sure the Winter Soldier is dead," he said, though he hadn't quite managed to make himself let go of Steve's hand.

"Where will you go?" Natasha asked him, seeming to understand what he needed. "You know he won't just let you disappear."

"Anywhere…everywhere…whatever I have to do to prove it to myself," he said, then he leaned down and pressed his lips gently against Steve's for a brief, aching moment before finally pulling away. Then he turned his attention to Natasha. "Vault 32557038…that's where he'll find the information he needs…about what happened. If he still thinks he can love me after that…he can come find me."

He always has before.

"You're really just gonna leave him like this?" Sam asked after him as he walked out of the room. "The guy's been mooning over you for seventy years."

Bucky laughed bitterly at this. "Seventy years ain't nothin'. Try ninety."

Neither Sam nor Natasha told Steve anything about it when he finally did wake up, and for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt strangely content as he lay in his hospital bed, still recovering from near fatal injuries. He felt happy…like a wish had been granted…like he knew Bucky had been there. Whatever the case might have been, when Natasha brought him the dossier on the Winter Soldier project, he knew that no matter what he found in its pages, he was ready to go after Bucky…ready to find him and sweep him into his arms…kiss him and tell him how much he'd missed him…how much he loved him.

XxX