"On your left!"

"C'mon, man!" Sam panted as Steve sprinted past him, barely out of breath. "Thirteen miles and you haven't broken a sweat?"

Steve just laughed and raced up the path. Ever since Sam had helped the Captain and Natasha out of tight spot (the possible homicide of 20 million people, a rogue Nazi cult concealed within a corrupt government agency, Steve's best friend back from the dead... nothing too unusual), Sam had joined Steve on his morning run. Although Steve protested that he was fine by himself, he had to admit it was nice to have company. Unbidden, a familiar phrase ran through his head.

...I'm with you till the end of the line...

Steve shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Even though Natasha had given him the Winter Soldier's file—which had proved to be practically useless, as all the information was encrypted so thoroughly that even Stark hadn't broken the code yet—both she and Sam thought Bucky was a lost cause. But they hadn't seen him that day on the helicarrier. Steve had seen the look in Bucky's eyes, right before they were both thrown from the explosion a mile above the city. Just for a second, Bucky had remembered who he was. Somehow, Steve had gotten through to him during their fight. After all, for the past week, Bucky had been following Steve on his morning run.

Steve didn't think Bucky knew that Steve had noticed him. He never said anything or tried to approach. Steve never even directly saw him; Bucky was too skilled at concealing himself for that. It was just a feeling of being watched, or seeing something shift in the shadows behind a tree or on the roof of a building.

Suddenly, Steve realized he was getting tired. His heart pounded against his chest. How long had he been running? He was already nearing the Lincoln memorial. He glanced behind him—Sam was nowhere in sight. Slowing his pace to a walk, Steve made his way over to the scuffed white marble steps and leaned against the rail to wait.

Ten minutes passed. Sam still hadn't caught up, but someone else had.

Steve took a deep breath and stood. "Bucky. I know you're there."

Nothing.

"I... I just want to talk." Steve cleared his throat. "I know you pulled me from the river that day."

Something compelled Steve to turn around, and when he did, he saw a lean but muscular figure standing a few feet away. His choppy brown hair fell nearly to his shoulders, and he was wearing a coat and gloves instead of his usual black masked ensemble, but his frigid blue eyes stared right at Steve. His posture seemed casual, but Steve knew he was poised to fight or run at any moment.

"I just want to help you, Bucky," Steve said, taking a step forward. The man stiffened, and Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't want to fight you. We used to be friends, remember?"

"I..." The Winter Soldier's voice was raspy, like it hadn't been used in a long time. "I don't remember anything, except..." He drew in a ragged breath, then said suddenly, "Why do you call me that?"

"It's your name. James Buchanan Barnes." Steve took another step forward, and this time Bucky didn't flinch away. "And I'm Steve, Steve Rogers. That scrawny kid you used to save from thugs in alleyways. We served in the army together in the forties. We were best friends."

Bucky was shaking his head. "You're wrong. You're wrong. That can't be... I'm not... I just follow orders. I do what they tell me so the pain will stop. They said... they said I was helping people." He looked away, clenching his fists.

Steve hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "Bucky, I know people who can help you, people who understand what you've been through—"

Something in the Winter Soldier snapped. "No one understands what I've been through!" he screamed, and Steve didn't even have time to raise a hand to defend himself before the metal arm slammed into his chest. He flew backward and crashed against the steps.

A woman shrieked, and a group of tourists immediately raised their cameras and started snapping photos. A man shoved his baby into his wife's arms and grabbed his phone, no doubt to dial 911. A minute later, sirens began wailing a few blocks away.

One hand bracing what was probably a fractured rib, Steve staggered to his feet. "Bucky, I don't know what they've done to you, but I know you can fight it."

The Winter Soldier drew a gun from within his coat and leveled it at Steve, switching the safety off with a click. "You don't know anything about me."

Steve was undeterred. "You're better than this. HYDRA's gone, you've got nowhere to go... let me help you."

"I don't need your help!" He fired, and Steve dove out of the way. A nearby couple sitting on the steps screamed and ran for cover. The sirens were getting louder.

Steve remained crouched on the ground, but his eyes were focused on Bucky. "Then just let me be your friend again."

Something in Bucky's expression shifted, and he lowered the gun a fraction. "I..."

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam shoved his way through the gathering crowd, sweaty and gasping for breath, just as several police cars skidded to a halt in the street, sirens screaming.

"Sir, put your hands above your head," an officer shouted as he leaped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and reaching for his gun.

Steve swore under his breath. When he looked back to where Bucky had just been standing, there was no one there. He'd vanished just as quickly as he had come.

With a sigh, Steve raised his hands.