At some point Steve dropped into a doze, vaguely aware of his surroundings yet not entirely awake. Even he was going to need snatches of rest to get through this. The next time he opened his eyes, the glow of sunlight distinguished the bend in the tunnel that headed toward open air from the rest of the cave. The fire had burned quite low, enough to leave the walls in shadow. Bucky hadn't moved at all save for the shaky rise and fall of his chest. Steve dared to hope that the faint touch of color to Bucky's cheeks was more than just a trick of the flickering light.

He pulled out his morning ration, quickly realizing that he would have to split the allotments since he had packed with no expectation to find Bucky alive. The reality was still mind blowing. After eating, he checked the makeshift bandages, and then the state of the drying clothes. Not entirely done, but noticeably improved. The thermal shirt he felt comfortable putting back on Bucky. The more ready they were in case they had to move fast, the better.

That's when the next astounding turn occurred. As Steve pulled the shirt into place, he heard the faintest noise he had ever picked up on.

And it came from Bucky.

A mere hint of a groan, almost easier to feel rather than hear rumbling in his friend's chest. More than that, Bucky's head slipped to the side in a manner unconnected to what Steve was doing.

"Buck, can you hear me? It's Steve. Listen, I need you to stay as still and as quiet as you can," rushed Steve, praying this was once again not his imagination.

Bucky was clearly in no state to make much of a fuss, but that didn't mean the pain wasn't a hefty factor. His face contorted the longer he retained some form of consciousness. Slowly, his remaining hand drifted toward the source of the agony. Steve tried to stop him. Bucky flinched away from the touch. Trembling fingers reached the improvised field bandage. He moaned again, a little stronger, more aware of his condition.

"I don't know how you survived, but you did. It's a miracle," Steve blustered on. "It's just me. I'm here to get you home."

"Stvvve…" At least that's what it sounded like Bucky said. The hand continued its exploration, this time in the direction of Steve's voice, as if looking for confirmation. Steve did one better as he, gently as possible, lifted Bucky's upper body into a semi-propped up posture.

"Save your strength. Here, see if you can drink some of this." From this position, Steve carefully fed Bucky some water from his canteen. Bucky managed a small amount before it got away from him, inducing a coughing fit. He whimpered from the pain caused by the harsh spasm. Steve attempted to ease this however he could. "Steady there, one step at a time."

"W'ere we..."

"Out of sight, for the moment, and out of the snow."

"M'arm…god, hurts…"

"For good reason, although it's probably best that you not look too closely."

Which is of course what Bucky tried to do, albeit extremely woozily. As soon as his head lolled over to his left, renewed pain and a whole different kind of anguish took over his features. His hoarse voice pinched into little more than a keen wheezing.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," sighed Steve.

"How bad…?"

"You're alive, that's what matters. I will get you out of here, back to base."

Bucky glared in his direction, or at least what Steve supposed was meant to be a glare.

"Do you remember the mission we were on? The train?" Steve cringed inwardly at how much effort Bucky had to put into the smallest action, but the mention of the last time they were together stirred up a discernable response. "Considering you managed to survive that fall, I'd say your injuries are all pretty minor in comparison."

"Shouldn' be possible…"

"I know, I can't explain it either. But those are questions for later. Right now, how are you feeling?"

"Like I fell offa train…but 'least not dead…?"

Steve couldn't resist a smile. "Well, you still have a sense of humor, I'll take that. Not too much trouble breathing? Can you move everything?"

"Everything still there, anyway…"

"Think you would be able to handle traveling before long?"

"We on a deadline?"

"Enemy patrol was in the area shortly after I found you, and let's not downplay the fact that you need real medical attention." Steve didn't see any reason to worry him with the AWOL part.

"I did fall down a mountain, Steve," Bucky quipped, the words coming slowly. Despite his improving cognizance, he was scarily weak physically speaking. He remained completely reliant on Steve's support at his back to stay halfway upright.

"Point is, the sooner we can get moving, the better."

"They just let you just wander out on this little search and rescue by yourself?"

Now you've walked into it. "You know you still haven't answered my question."

"Classic Rogers evasion. I'll answer if you do; you snuck out like you did to the prison camp, didn't you?"

Steve mentally sidestepped the unintended reminder of Bucky's time as a prisoner. "This isn't like that. But I really do want to start heading back as soon as you're up for it. Might at least get you back into the rest of your gear, if it's okay with you. You were pretty much soaked through when I found you."

"So I gathered." This time Bucky was the one to hesitate. He was in obvious discomfort, but allowed Steve to do what he needed to do. The minutes stretched on with nothing but the shrinking fire popping next to them. When Steve sat down again, Bucky reached up to the sleeve of his friend's unique uniform. "Thanks…for coming to find me. Again."

"I'm with you to the end of the line too, pal."

Bucky cracked a tired shadow of his old grin. Steve kicked out and dispersed the last embers, checked the state of his own gear, and very carefully hoisted Bucky into what he hoped was a merciful fireman's carry. Bucky's attempt to stifle his pain was obvious.

"Listen, anything doesn't feel right, or if you start having real trouble of any kind, you tell me. I don't need the tough guy routine if I'm making something worse," Steve insisted.

"Yes, mother," Bucky grumbled in his ear.

With a small light clipped to his front to lead the way, Steve decided to follow the underground passage. By all appearances this was a natural, uninhabited cave system. Periodic checks of his compass told him the path he took ran overall in the right direction, with chinks of various sizes open to the mountain face from time to time. He also paid close attention to the smallest hint of developments in Bucky's condition. Frequent pained grunts, breathing labored but not struggling, limbs dangling freely. Steve was pretty sure Bucky nodded in and out of semi-awareness, and wasn't about to argue his need for rest.

Time of day was hard to track as he followed this route. So was distance—eventually he was going to have to turn more south. He had no idea whatsoever where that patrol ended up, or if there were others. He only had the blessedly quiet, non-man-made noises of the tunnels to go by, outside of his own footsteps.

A sharp intake of breath heralded Bucky's return to wakefulness, a more fretful, disoriented reaction than Steve liked.

"Hnnn, wha'…? Where…how…" The muddled fragments of words dissolved into an extended moan laced with hurt and confusion. Steve checked their present surroundings before lowering Bucky, propping him against the uneven wall. Only after a few unsteady glances around did the injured man's bleary eyes land on Steve's face.

"You okay? We can take a break," Steve assured him, automatically checking over the wounds that had needed bandaging.

"N-n-no, I jus'…nevermind…thought ferra sec…"

"We'll rest for a while, let you relax as best you can. Nobody here but us," Steve cajoled. He noted the clammy sweat darkening the edges of Bucky's disheveled hair and the torn fabric over his forehead, the unhealthy pallor to his skin despite warming up. Lack of food since the train incident surely didn't help. So Steve pulled out the valuable rations. "While we're here, what do you say to trying to eat something? I bet you're starving."

"Not the worst I've felt…well, okay, all told…"

"Stop running your mouth and see if you can chew this."

Steve gave Bucky small pieces to start. The last thing he needed was to choke. The reflex seemed to take much of Bucky's concentration, as if it was a foreign sensation. At last, he swallowed a bite. Upon realizing how closely he was being monitored, he shot Steve a wearily incredulous look.

"You keeping count or something?"

"To be honest, I thought I would be the only one needing these. I'm not complaining by any means, I'll gladly take this version of events, but it's been a bit of a shock to get over," rebuffed Steve. "Plus you're far from okay, so cut me some slack."

They lapsed into silence. Bucky nibbled at the rest of his food, and tried to keep his left arm in the least-uncomfortable position he could. Steve picked at a stain on one of his own knees. If he thought hard enough, it almost felt like they were kids again, hiding out in some corner of the park with whatever imaginary scenario they had cooked up. Only the roles were reversed this time, with Steve as the protective one and Bucky needing to be cared for.

"You know," Bucky suddenly croaked, "I should take back all the ribbing I gave you about not being able to keep up back in the day…"

"This is totally different, Buck."

"But it was so easy to think that you could just get over it if you tried hard enough, or even that you were faking it sometimes, when I didn't know how it felt to be the one going through that stuff."

"You didn't know better, and frankly neither did I. We were just kids. I wondered for myself why I couldn't do what everybody else could through sheer force of willpower."

"But I didn't always help things, I bet. For that, I'm sorry." Bucky rested his head back against the rock surface. The last bit of his ration slipped from his hand. Steve jumped forward, every nerve on instant alert.

"Hey, stick with me for a bit, here. I know you're feeling pretty bad, but you've got to keep fighting." He tried not to sound desperate, which was what threatened to burst from his chest. Bucky stirred with great reluctance.

Further assessment was cut short, as the one sound Steve feared most floated toward them. Faint, but unmistakable. The presence of someone else in the tunnels—discovering the campsite, judging by the activity and the direction from which it came. Steve began packing supplies away as stealthily as possible. On the positive side, the change in demeanor roused Bucky into more or less full consciousness.

"W-What's going on, Steve?"

"No time to explain, we have to move quickly. This is probably going to hurt, but I need you to keep quiet, even if it means you need something to bite down on. It's the best chance we'll have," Steve whispered hastily.

Bucky fought a preemptive grimace. "Better just give me something now. This place is an echo chamber."

Steve cast about for suitable material; there wasn't much time to prepare anything. One of the leather straps of his shield harness was cinched pretty far up, leaving a loose tail at the end. He flipped out his pocket knife, sheared off what he felt he could get away with, and folded the leather into a thicker bundle. Bucky gave him a nod, his expression set.

The tactic proved wise. Bucky couldn't suppress the muffled whimper as Steve hoisted him once more. They couldn't dwell on the niceties, however. He was willing to bet the store that it was the same patrol now on their trail. Why they were so intent on Bucky was beyond him. Information to use against the Allies? But surely they would have come to the same conclusion Steve had, that the mission would be recovery of a body. Maybe there was something else on that train, something they feared the Commandos had picked up, once it became clear Bucky was not among the debris.

Steve furtively checked out the first sizable opening to the mountainside they came across. Wide open terrain, no useful cover to speak of. What he could see was a distant view of the forest edge, beyond which hid the current base camp. He knew they couldn't avoid this path for much longer. The underground passageways were either going to end, or continue to follow the mountains west.

Plus there was the question of the best time to travel. Daylight risked the greater chance of being seen, yet night movement would require going without light to avoid detection, a feat made difficult with a wounded comrade.

If the tunnel doesn't pan out the way you need it to, you might not have the chance to backtrack, and there's no telling if you'll have anywhere to hide, he contemplated.

Bucky tugged his good arm for Steve to adjust his grip, then took the leather out of his mouth. "I don't know about you, but if they're going to catch us, I'd rather it be in the fresh air than in some dark hole," he commented gruffly. "Sun's about to dip behind the peaks, anyway."

"You're the wingman. If you think it's the best option, I'll take it," replied Steve.

"I'm the wingman? Since when am I the wingman, after all the places I've had to drag you?"

"Figured sooner or later I'd have to do my share of dragging. And it's kind of literal this time, not much choice about it."

"Yeah…fine. You got me there."

Steve allowed himself a smile. The banter was encouraging, a glimpse of the Bucky he knew. He began picking his way down the rocky incline. It wasn't too hard to find a clear enough trail to follow. Exertion certainly wasn't an issue thanks to the serum. As Bucky predicted, twilight fell quickly with the sun's descent behind the southwest arm of the mountains. Both of their uniforms were darker, which would help as well.

They reached the treeline altitude, even though there weren't many trees just yet. Steve kept his ears trained behind them, alert for the smallest indication that their pursuers had reached the same exit they had, or any other path in this direction.