He couldn't recall a time when he was bothered by someone begging him to spare their life. Then again most of his kills were distant memories with the details so blurred out of focus it was a wonder he could remember them at all. Tonight though, to hear this former operative plead with the Soldier for mercy had caused him to pause. He was programmed to be a weapon, a killing machine, he was sure he had never paused before. And now, now that it was over, he felt numb and sick. The man he'd read about in the museum, Bucky, he probably would have felt sick if someone had begged him not to kill them. Then again Bucky probably would have let them live. Or maybe not, Bucky had "died" fighting HYDRA which at least the Winter Soldier was doing now. Better late than never he supposed.

His eyes swept the room automatically looking for threats. Finding none he slowly made his way for the door. Half way to his destination he found his body listing to the side. He caught himself on the door frame and let his gun clatter to the ground.

Just need to lean here for a minute. He sat heavily on the ground and rested his throbbing head against the wall.

I should be moving. The though floated through the buzzing in his head. He was so tired. Beyond tired and now without a purpose to drive him forward. He knew of no more bases in continental North America. Traveling abroad would be difficult with law enforcement and multiple agencies looking for him, to say nothing of trying to board a plane with a metal arm. HYDRA had always transported him in the past. He could sneak aboard or hijack a plane or boat, but…

He dropped his head. He was so tired, weariness and injury dragging him down. He soon realized just how exhausted he was when he began to stir, he didn't even know he had passed out, to the sound of someone talking to him gently. So very gently in fact he was hardly sure they were talking to him at all.

"We've located two heat signatures in the house, though judging by the rapid cooling of one he's probably already dead." Steve leaned over Maria Hill's shoulder to study the image on the screen. She glanced back at him.

"Captain Rogers, I need you to follow my lead."

Steve straightened and gazed at the house before turning back. "Let me go in and talk to him."

"No, absolutely not."

"You said you didn't want anyone to get hurt. I think I probably have the best chance of talking him down." He reasoned.

"He's killed a man in there. He's been on a rampage for 3 months. What's to stop him from turning on you? You need to go in with a team."

"First of all, he's been killing HYDRA, same as S.H.I.E.L.D. And what's your plan? Tear gas, tranquilizers, you planning on shooting him on sight? I though you said we were going to avoid that."

"We are. No one has seen or talked to him. We don't know where his head is at."

"And we're not going to until someone talks to him. You walk in there with 20 armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and I'll tell you where his heads going to be. He going to react and it's not going to be good." She opened her mouth to argue so he plowed on. "Let me go in, just flesh it out. I'll be on my guard. I just need to see if I can get through to him first."

Agent Hill shook her head knowing she was losing the battle. "Go ahead then, but we'll be surrounding the house should he get past you and decide to make a run for it. You will alert us at the first sign of a problem."

"Of course."

"Ten minutes and we're coming in." She warned. Steve nodded and turned toward the house.

Sam had been standing within earshot of the conversation and now stepped closer to Steve. "You want me to come, man?"

"No, I've got it. Thanks." Steve offered him a grateful smile.

"You got a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

Steve walked to the house and put his hand on the door knob. Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open and walked in. The smell of blood assaulted his heightened senses. He shut the front door and passed through the hallway into the living room. He paused for a moment to check the body on the floor. He was indeed dead and Steve found himself feeling ashamedly relieved it wasn't Bucky.

Stepping carefully around the body he proceeded quietly to the next room and stopped in the doorway dumbfounded. He's been prepared to talk down a violent, angry Bucky. Been prepared with reassurances for a confused or guarded Bucky. He hadn't been expecting…unconscious Bucky.

Steve approached carefully, trying to make enough noise so he didn't sneak up on the man, but the Soldier didn't even stir from where he was slumped against the wall. He was relieved to find that at least he was still breathing though his breaths seemed to be coming in shallow pants.

Steve crouched down to try and assess the situation. Up close the assassin looked even worse. His face was almost a gray color, his hair hanging in limp strands in front of his face. Under his eyes were deep shadows and his lips were tightened as though in pain. Steve longed to reach out a hand and claps his shoulder the way they used to offer to support one another. It saddened him to think how unwelcome such a gesture would be now.

While he wanted didn't want to startle Bucky or give him a reason to run, he needed to speed this along. S.H.I.E.L.D. crashing through the door would certainly not be an ideal way for Bucky to wake up.

"Bucky" he called softly. He received no response. Steve softly talked to him a moment more before the Soldier started to stir, slowly at first, until he caught sign of Steve. Then his eyes widened almost comically. He let out a growl and attempted to rise, until his legs gave way beneath him. Steve grimaced as he fell back to the ground and groaned.

Steve tried to look as nonthreatening as possible and held up his hand placatingly. "Bucky, it's me, its Steve." He swallowed the bitter irony as he remembered those were his words to Bucky when he'd pulled him off Dr. Zola's table over seventy years ago. Who knew that nightmare would lead here?

"I'm getting him back now too." Steve told himself sternly.

"Bucky, I-." The scowl was back on Bucky's face and quicker than Steve would have thought possible, his metal arm shot out to shove Steve out of the way. Steve hit the wall but didn't even feel it over the panic that Bucky might escape again and they'd never find him or worse, he'd be shot down as he attempted to leave the house.

"I have to stop him before S.H.I.E.L.D. does." Steve thought desperately. Luckily the Soldier seemed to be moving at less than half his normal speed. Steve was already recovered and across the room before he had managed a few faltering steps. Steve got between him and the doorway. "Just listen to me, please." He pleaded. The Soldier narrowed his eyes but didn't relax his stance.

"I just want to help you." He extended his hand and took a step forward, then froze when Bucky pulled back. "I want to help you, Bucky. Please let me help you."

Bucky just stared at him with frighteningly empty eyes and swayed slightly on his feet as though a breath of wind could knock him over. Steve swallowed fearing he wasn't getting through but refusing to be deterred. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is outside; they're not going to hurt you, but need to take you back so we can help you. You aren't under HYDRA's control anymore."

Bucky finally spoke, "I won't go with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Bucky-"

"No!"

Steve knew he was running out of time to get Bucky out of there willingly before the S.H.I.E.L.D. team moved in. "S.H.I.E.L.D. won't hurt you, they're not HYDRA anymore." He tried to reason calmly. "They want to talk to you about HYDRA. I swear no one will hurt you and we'll find a way to get your life back. Please Buck, let me help." He finished pleadingly.

The Soldier was confused and the blood pounding in his ears only made it harder to think. The words were swirling around in his head. He had a life to get back? No one would hurt him? The Captain wanted to help him?

His options were limited. He considered fighting. The Captain wasn't guarding himself properly and looked exhausted himself. If he considered the Soldier a non-threat or weak that could be to his advantage.

He considered running. There were two paths he could take to exit the home and possibly elude capture. But how far would he really make it in his condition and S.H.I.E.L.D. mostly likely had the place surrounded.

Every instinct told him to run or fight. His shoulders slumped. All he knew how to do was fight and kill.

"Bucky?" Concerned eyes searched his, they held nothing but compassion and kindness and something in him ached to see it.

In the end he didn't know if he shocked himself or the captain more when he raised his head and nodded.

I've been reading fan fictions where Bucky is very emotional and a constant weeping wreck and while I have enjoyed the ones I've read, I have to keep reminding myself that isn't how I want to portray him. I think he would be much more like a hurt animal. Angry, wary, scared and dangerous. So I will be attempting to keep true to that image.