They made it down the stairs without any trouble, and Bucky pushed away to start walking on his own. "You good?" Steve asked.

"I'll make it," Bucky said with a smile. He'd been coughing pretty badly coming out of the building, but sounded much better now that he was out of the smoke. "What about you?" He looked back at Steve, that old, protective evaluation in his eye, even if he did have to look up to do it now. "That had to be hell on your asthma, you should probably sit down for a while."

Steve blinked in surprise, then chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"What? I'm serious, Stevie, you need to sit down and just breathe. I don't want you passing out. I'm actually a little surprised you haven't yet, but—"

"Bucky, I don't have asthma anymore," Steve told him.

Bucky stopped short. "Oh. Right. Right, of course you don't." He shook his head. "Anything else I need to know?" he snapped. He sighed, taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I'm sorry." He sighed again and opened his eyes. "This is just…" He gestured helplessly at Steve. "This is a lot to wrap my head around."

Steve nodded. "I know." It had taken him a while to get used to too. Bucky had been aware of it for all of half an hour. He hadn't really thought about how this would change the dynamics of their relationship. Bucky was used to worrying about him. And, as much as Steve hated to admit it, it had been with good reason. "And, hey, I still appreciate the concern."

Bucky snorted. "That's new."

"I appreciated it before. I did!" Steve insisted at the look on Bucky's face. "Just maybe not…externally."

Bucky huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. "So, 'Captain America', what's next? And you're gonna have to explain that too, by the way."

Steve felt his skin growing hot, hoping it was dark enough that Bucky wouldn't see him blush. "Yeah, okay, but that part's a long story. I'm thinking right now we should try to find everybody who got out and regroup." It came out sounding more like a question than he intended.

Bucky smirked a little and nodded. "Sure. That way?" he asked, hooking a thumb toward the tree line.

They moved away from the building to where the group of men seemed to be gathering. "Sarge!" came a voice from their left. He and Bucky turned, and Steve saw the American guy he'd seen earlier in the evening.

"Gabe, hey!" Bucky said, moving forward to meet him.

"Dugan! Look who it is!" Gabe called, and before Steve could react, a big bear of a man was picking Bucky up off the ground in a hug.

"Sarge!" he boomed. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, he's alive, don't break him, Dum Dum!" an Asian man said, slapping the big guy on the arm.

"Thanks, Morita," Bucky said after he was back on the ground, rubbing his sternum. "Good to see you too, Dugan," he told the big guy.

"I see the good Captain found you," the English guy from earlier said, putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You had us all worried. Good to see you, old boy."

"Hey, Monty, thanks. Wait, you guys know Steve?" he asked, pointing back at his friend.

Steve guessed at least some of these guys were from Bucky's unit, and the ones who weren't were probably cell mates. They acted like a team, though—Bucky had that effect on people. And they seemed genuinely glad to see him. Steve was glad he'd had people to watch his back over here.

"We've met," Monty said. "Although, he introduced himself as Captain America."

Bucky turned back to Steve, grinning. "Did he?"

Steve groaned inwardly. Once Bucky found out about the name's origins, he was never going to let Steve forget it.

"Wait," Gabe said. "This isn't…This isn't your friend, Steve, is it?" Bucky nodded. "Little Steve from Brooklyn?" Gabe asked skeptically.

"Yeah, it's…It's a long story," Bucky said.

"Well, you were right," Dugan said to Bucky, slapping Steve on the back hard enough to knock him a little off-balance. "He's a hell of a guy. So, what now, Cap?"

What now? Oh. Steve swallowed. Everyone was looking at him like he was in charge. Big, tough, soldier guys, some of whom looked like the kind of guys that used to push Steve around, and they were looking to him for instructions. Crap. Um…He looked to Bucky for help, and he nodded encouragingly. Okay. Yeah, okay, he could do this. "We need to see how many men we've got here," Steve said. Counting seemed like a good place to start. Oh, and they just fought their way out, so there were probably some guys who were hurt. "How many are wounded and who's in good enough shape to help them out. It's a long walk back to base."

"We've got a couple of trucks and tanks that made it out with us," Gabe said. "Not enough to carry everyone, but we should be able to give most of the wounded a ride."

"Great. You get on organizing that—get the wounded moving to the vehicles and find drivers. Take a couple of people to help." Gabe nodded, and he moved off with Dugan and a scruffy little guy who hadn't said anything yet. Excellent. Okay, but the wounded needed to be able to survive the trip back to camp. "Do we know of anyone here who's got medical training?"

Morita raised his hand. "I've got some basic training. I know there's a few other guys around here too."

"Can you find them and start patching people up? Whatever you can do that'll keep people on their feet until we get back." Good. Okay. Hmm…Okay, the Hydra soldiers seemed to have disappeared, but that didn't mean they were all gone, and they were still behind enemy lines. He turned to Monty as Morita left. "I need you to start organizing everyone who's still standing. If we have any captured weapons, pass 'em around, find men to act as lookouts at the front, back, and all along the convoy."

Monty nodded crisply and departed and Steve let out a long breath. Hopefully that covered everything. "Well, look at you," Bucky said, grinning at him through the dark.

"Huh?"

"You really know what you're doing, 'Captain'," Bucky said. Still some sarcasm on the title, and Steve really wasn't looking forward to telling that story, but Bucky didn't sound at all surprised he had just pulled that off. If anything, he sounded…proud.

"Well, I mean, it just seemed like what needed to get done," Steve said uncertainly. He hoped he hadn't forgotten anything.

"You did great, Stevie."

Steve smiled. "Thanks." He paused. "Why did Gabe call me 'Little Steve from Brooklyn'?"

"Well, you are from Brooklyn."

"Bucky…"

"What? It's not like I ever referred to you as 'Little Steve'. But up until recently, that was one of your more defining physical traits. You can see why he'd want to make sure."

Steve shook his head. "You're a jerk."

Bucky grinned. "Yeah, but you know you missed me."

"Yeah. I did." Steve said softly. He really had. He wondered how long it would be before Phillips' apology stopped echoing in the back of his head and twisting a knife in his stomach. Bucky bumped his shoulder with a small, encouraging smile. Bucky wasn't dead. And he would stay that way if Steve had anything to say about it. "Hey, so are you okay?" he asked. Now that they weren't running for their lives, they had a little time, and Bucky had looked like hell back in the lab. Actually, he still looked like hell, but at least he was walking. "Back in the lab, you…" He swallowed hard. That vacant, lifeless stare was going to haunt him for a long time.

Bucky's face turned solemn. "Yeah, I know." He shivered a little and wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm making it. A lot of it's probably adrenaline," he admitted. Bucky hated admitting to weakness in front of anyone, and Steve knew he hated doing it in front of him too. But he also knew when Steve needed him to be honest, and he'd swallow his pride and tell him the truth. He'd been that way since they were six years old. "And I'll probably crash in the med tent when we get back, but first we've gotta get there. So, I'll do it." He sounded like he meant it, and Steve believed him.

"Okay," he said. "But if you need help, you let me know."

"I will," he promised, and Steve believed that too.

Things got busy after that as the convoy got ready to move, but Steve never moved from where he could see Bucky. Once they got going, he wasn't walking as quickly or as confidently as Steve was used to seeing, but he was keeping up, walking up front with Steve and keeping watch.

Steve kept his eyes mostly ahead—they had lookouts scouting ahead, but he saw a lot better in the dark than he used to, and he kept an eye on the trees and fields surrounding them. Bucky kept looking at the men walking with them, occasionally slowing down and drifting to the back of the convoy before catching up again. When Steve asked him what he was doing, he said he was counting.

"You make sure our way home's safe, Steve," he said. "I'll make sure all of us get there." Steve smiled and nodded, returning his eyes to the horizon. After all the practice he'd had looking after Steve, Bucky made a hell of a Sergeant.