The Winter Soldier stepped carefully onto the ice. He walked slowly, staying alert to his darkened surroundings. It was night, and he wasn't on any particular mission. In fact, he had went rogue; something in his mind had pestered him about coming to this area, though he couldn't put together the reason why.

His eyes studied the ice as he walked, scanning almost every small detail. It was likely that his handler would be upset from his sudden leave, but if this would get the pestering thoughts out of his head, then it was worth it.

Strangely, he didn't care whether or not he was punished. Usually, in some cases, he would be terrified. The thought of him failing a mission and being punished if he did not complete it, or fail it, gave him more determination to succeed. For him, it was an advantage, but in some empty spot in his mind, it said otherwise.

Up ahead, about 40 feet from him, he noticed a small disturbance in the ice. Likely, someone normally would suspect nothing of it, but the Winter Soldier's keen senses told him that something was there.

He walked toward it and quickened his pace. He found himself strangely anxious.

Once he reached the particular spot, he got on his knees and stared down into the ice. He noticed a faint, darkened shadow underneath, which extended quite far. It looked like an aircraft of some kind.

Spotting a hatch, he slammed his metal fist into the ice where it was located and tossed the chunks of ice aside.

Then, once it was somewhat free, he gripped the handle and ripped the hatch off completely. He looked down into the darkness below and spotted a ladder. He slowly descended down into the depths of the aircraft.

He glanced around, amazed by the sight. It was indeed an aircraft, as he spotted the cockpit and the large, cracked window not that far ahead. Looking around, he could also spot some stairs and railings. Faintly, he could see the metal beams that stretched to the top of the plane. It was an eerie sight. It looked like it's been here for who knows how long; buried under ice and snow.

As he approached the pilot's seat of the aircraft, his mind seemed to be continuously screeching at him to keep going. The Winter Soldier did not know why exactly, but he could make out a faint color in the stack of snow and ice which rested around the cockpit.

Once he neared it, something horribly familiar ached in his mind. He stared at the red, white, and blue shield, which was trapped under the ice. He realized his eyes had widened.

Suddenly, a snippet of a memory played back in his mind.

Bucky sat in the cell, metal arm replacing his missing left and his now-long hair a mess. He stared up as a man entered.

"I'm surprised you've stayed sane and determined this long, Barnes. Face it, no one's gonna come looking for you."

Bucky only laughed. "Steve will find me. You'll see. And I can't wait to see what he'll do to you when he does."

The man only smiled and threw a stack of newspapers on the ground. "You might want to check up on that."

Swallowing the sudden fearful lump that had formed in his throat, Bucky picked up the first article and read the headline.

Captain Rogers Dead After Plane Crash

Something cold formed in his chest as he stared at the picture of his best friend, both pre and post serum. His hands were shaking as he lifted up the second one, finding himself looking at the picture of the very plane that Steve had crashed.

New York Saved: Steve Rogers Crashes Plane into Ice. Presumed Dead. No Wreckage Found.

"No…" He whispered. "This isn't true.." He stared up at the man who had given him the papers. "Steve can't- He's still alive..I know he is."

The man only shook his head. "Sorry, pal. But your buddy isn't gonna be lookin' for you anytime soon."

Bucky knew that was true. Steve was dead..He was supposed to protect him, but instead he allowed himself to get blown outside that stupid train.

He finally broke down, wretched sobs tearing him from the inside-out.

"N-No...Steve," He muttered, voice trembling.

"God, no...I'm so sorry..I'm sorry.." He cried, gripping the newspaper of pre-serum and post-serum Steve to his chest. "Steve, I'm s-so s-sorry.."

He snapped out of the sudden memory, eyes wide. All of this seemed horribly familiar now

He slammed his metal fist into the ice and freed the shield from its icy prison. He turned it over in his flesh hand, looking at it. Captain America. Steve Rogers.

Steve.

Then, he slammed his fist into the ice again. He continued doing that for a while until his eyes suddenly flew open and his heart stopped. He stared down at the frozen figure of the man he horrifically recognized as his best friend.

More memories flew back to him.

The train. Azzano, Brooklyn. Steve.

"Oh my god.." He muttered. Carefully, he slammed his metal fist into the ice and threw the ice chunks aside. Once he reached his friend he gently pulled the man free. He got most of the ice off of him, but not all of it.

He lifted Steve into his arms and walked back toward the hatch. The shield was also with them, as Bucky made sure not to leave it behind.

Bucky helped Steve's unconscious form out of the plane first. Then himself.

Once he got to the surface, he fell to his knees beside his friend, cupping his cold face. "Oh Steve...I'm so sorry.."

Though, he felt a huge sense of relief and happiness that Steve wasn't dead. He had survived, and that's all that mattered.

But he'd have to adjust to the 21st century. Bucky knew the time period, since at times, he broke out of his programming. They'd help each other through this.

He lifted Steve back into his arms and began to walk back toward New York, all while trying to warm Steve up the best he could.

2 weeks later

Bucky was sat by Steve's bedside as he waited for his friend to wake up. He had dressed into more civilian clothing, a casual red shirt and a jacket.

Steve was lying motionless on the bed. Bucky, growing tired, laid his head on the side of his bed and fell asleep.

He woke up to a dazed groan. His head shot up and he watched as Steve propped himself into a sitting position. "Where am-" He spotted Bucky, eyes shooting open as he swung his legs off the side of the bed. "BUCKY?"

"Hey pal," Bucky gave a small smile.

"Wha-What?" Steve asked. "How-"

Bucky sighed. It would be hard enough for Steve to get used to the 21st century, he wouldn't want the pain of what Bucky went through to bring him down even more.

"I'll tell you later..Listen, you've been out for around 70 years."

Steve's eyes shot open. "Wait what?" He turned to the window and looked outside at the extremely unfamiliar sight of New York. He recognized it, but it was far different than he remembered it to be.

No flying cars either, apparently.

"Thought there would be flying cars by now," He said.

Bucky came to stand next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Yea...but their still better looking than the ones in our time."

Steve smiled.