By the time they hit the ground, Bucky was walking steadier. Confident he could stay upright now, he moved away from Steve. "You good?" Steve asked him.

"I'll make it," Bucky assured him, smiling. He looked over at Steve, assessing him. "What about you?" He was kicking himself for not asking earlier. If he'd had trouble breathing through all that smoke, he could only imagine what it was like for Steve. Even if his lungs were bigger now, they were probably pushing it. "That had to be hell on your asthma, you should probably sit down for a while."

Steve looked confused, then shook his head, laughing softly.

"What?" Steve had always pushed back against what he called Bucky's mother-henning, but not with something as serious as his asthma. "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 interrupted.

"Oh," Bucky said. He didn't…Of course he didn't. He should have realized that. "Right. Right, of course you don't." Of course he didn't. Erskine's magic formula just did everything, didn't it? "Anything else I need to know?" he snapped. He caught himself and took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. That came out wrong. It wasn't Steve he was mad at. He wasn't sure what he was mad at. It just…This was messed up.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he sighed. "This is just…" He didn't know what it was. He waved his hand at Steve, taking in the whole…everything. "This is a lot to wrap my head around." And he was trying. He really was.

"I know," Steve said. He didn't sound like he was taking Bucky's mood swings personally, which Bucky appreciated. This role reversal was weird as hell—making sure Steve was okay was second nature to Bucky, and that whole part of his brain was freaking out because it didn't seem to have a job anymore.

"And, hey," Steve continued. "I still appreciate the concern."

Bucky snorted in disbelief. "That's new."

"I appreciated it before," Steve said. Bucky raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I did!" Steve insisted. "Just maybe not…externally."

Bucky couldn't help laughing at that. Understatement of the century. "So, 'Captain America', what's next?" They should probably not just keep standing around a burning Nazi weapons factory. And speaking of the new title…"And you're gonna have to explain that too, by the way," he added, pointing at Steve.

"Yeah, okay, but that part's a long story," Steve said. And that was a very interesting shade of red he was turning. Oh, Bucky was looking forward to hearing this story. "I'm thinking right now we should try to find everybody who got out and regroup," Steve finished quickly, asking more than telling, and Bucky smirked. Steve had a point—time and a place—but he wasn't getting off that easy.

"Sure," Bucky agreed. "That way?" he asked, pointing to where he'd seen the men heading.

They hurried across the empty space and through one of the many breaks in the fence. They could see figures moving around in the woods as they approached when a familiar voice sounded from their left.

"Sarge!" it exclaimed, and Gabe appeared from behind a tree, grinning.

"Gabe, hey!" Bucky greeted happily, veering towards his teammate. He'd been hoping they'd all made it out okay.

"Dugan!" Gabe shouted, "look who it is!" and Bucky's breath left his chest in a whoosh as two giant arms wrapped around him and lifted him off the ground.

"Sarge!" Dugan bellowed happily. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, he's alive—don't break him, Dum Dum," Morita said, slapping Dugan's arm.

Dugan put him down and Bucky rubbed his chest, making sure he hadn't cracked any bones. "Thanks, Morita," he said with a grin. "Good to see you too, Dugan," he added.

He felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see a smiling Monty. "I see the good Captain found you. You had us all worried," he said, and Bucky could hear the emotion under his calm voice, echoed in the eyes of the rest of them. "Good to see you, old boy."

"Hey, Monty, thanks," Bucky said, patting his shoulder. Wait, 'good Captain'? "Wait," he asked, turning back to look at them all. "You guys know Steve?"

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

Bucky spun slowly back around to face Steve, grinning. "Did he?" He hadn't even heard the story yet, but it was getting better and better. He heard Steve groan and his grin only widened.

"Wait," Gabe said, pointing at Steve. "This isn't…This isn't your friend Steve, is it?" Between foxholes, rainy nights in tents and long nights in the cage, everyone had talked a lot about home. Bucky nodded, and Gabe's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "Little Steve from Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, it's…It's a long story." Bucky still needed more of it before he attempted to explain it to anybody.

"Well, you were right," Dugan said, clapping a hand hard enough to Steve's back that he staggered a little bit, and making Bucky smile. That struck a familiar note. "He's a hell of a guy. So, what now, Cap?"

Everyone was looking at Steve. Steve, who took a moment to realize that, then looked at Bucky with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Steve was smart, and Bucky knew it. Steve just wasn't used to other people knowing it, and Bucky gave him an encouraging nod. Take a breath, Steve. You've got this.

Steve licked his lips and looked around. "We need to see how many men we've got here," he said. "How many are wounded and who's in good enough shape to help them out. It's a long walk back to base." Bucky nodded. Check on your people and make sure no one gets left behind. Good start.

"We've got a couple of trucks and tanks that made it out with us," Gabe said, pointing back to the clearing. Bucky smiled. Dollars to donuts, Dugan had been the one to steal the tank. "Not enough to carry everyone, but we should be able to give most of the wounded a ride."

"Great," Steve said, looking a little more confident now that the first thing he'd said seemed to have been the right one. "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 took off with Dugan and the little French guy. Dernier. That was his name.

"Do we know of anyone who's got medical training?" Steve asked. Okay, good. Depending how long of a walk it was, the wounded might not make it very far. Before Bucky could point out Morita, he raised his hand.

"I've got some basic training," he said. "I know there's a few other guys around here too."

"Can you find them and start patching people up?" Steve asked. He didn't look nervous anymore. "I need you to organize everyone who's still standing," he said, turning to Monty. "If we have any captured weapons, pass 'em around, find men to act as lookouts at the front, back, and all along the convoy."

Steve let out a long breath as they left and Bucky grinned. "Well, look at you," he said. He knew his boy had it in him.

"Huh?" Steve turned back to him, confused.

"You really know what you're doing, 'Captain'," Bucky told him, stressing the title because he knew it embarrassed him and he was having fun with that, but meaning every word. Steve had always had the brains, the courage and the compassion to make one hell of a leader, but his size kept people from seeing that. Yeah, it was weird that Steve was big now, but if it let other people see what Bucky always knew was there, then it was pretty awesome.

"Well, I mean," Steve started awkwardly, scuffing his boot on the dirt. "It just seemed like what needed to get done." Okay, so natural leader inside. They could work on the outward confidence later.

"You did great, Stevie," Bucky assured him.

Steve smiled, his cheeks going faintly pink. "Thanks." He paused and looked up at Bucky with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Why did Gabe call me 'Little Steve from Brooklyn'?"

Yeah, he'd been wondering if Steve had caught that. "Well, you are from Brooklyn."

"Bucky…" he said with an exasperated glare.

Bucky raised his hands in a what-do-you-want gesture. "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 had had time to get used to this. He wasn't grasping how weird it was.

Steve shook his head. "You're a jerk," he said, but there was a smile in his voice and Bucky grinned.

"Yeah, but you know you missed me."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, his voice soft. "I did." Bucky remembered back to the lab, him saying something about how he thought Bucky was dead. He stepped closer and bumped Steve's shoulder with his own, a physical reminder that they were both still here.

Steve gave him quick, grateful smile, then looked him up and down. "Hey," he asked. "So, are you sure you're okay? Back in the lab, you…" He swallowed hard, and Bucky's smile disappeared. Yeah. If he'd looked anything like how he'd felt, he wasn't surprised it'd freaked Steve out.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. A shiver ran up his spine, more from the memory than the night air, and he wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm making it," he told him. He'd love to say he was fine, but he wasn't. Steve knew that and he knew that. "A lot of it's probably adrenaline, and I'll probably crash in the med tent when we get back," he admitted. He was supposed to be the tough one, and he hated letting anyone—even Steve—know that he was struggling, but Steve had never thought any less of him when he did.

"But first, we've gotta get there," Bucky finished. "So, I'll do it." Adrenaline had brought him this far, and he was kind of surprised it was still pumping, but he would ride it until it crashed and let stubbornness carry him the rest of the way.

"Okay," Steve said, and he sounded like he believed him. "But if you need help, you let me know."

"I will," he promised, and he meant it.

Things started going faster as the convoy got moving. Steve moved back and forth down the line as they got ready, but Bucky could feel him keeping his eyes on him. He seemed to settle a little once they started walking and Bucky kept pace with him.

There wasn't much talking as the group went along. For some, walking was all they could manage and there wasn't air to spare. For the rest, well, they were in enemy territory. No need to call any more attention to themselves than they already were.

Steve was fascinating to watch. He was keeping watch on their surroundings, whispering with the scouts who would run back to report, checking in with the medics who would come forward with status updates and looking back to look over the silent men and vehicles. Bucky smiled to himself. Steve had finally found his element.

While Steve kept an eye on where they were going, Bucky drifted back along the line, nodding to Steve that he was alright. He checked in at each vehicle, nodding at the men on foot as they walked by, making eye contact and making sure they were doing okay. More than once, he coaxed those who really weren't looking good into the bed of a truck or onto the outside of a tank.

When he moved back up to the front of the line, Steve arched a curious eyebrow. "Counting," Bucky said quietly. Steve may be Captain America, but Bucky was still the Sergeant. "You make sure our way home's safe, Steve," he said. "I'll make sure all of us get there."