A/N: Foremost, I want to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His unending mercy and grace. I am very blessed and so thankfully to have some time to write at last. Huzzah! :D

Prompt: At the end of CA:TWS, Bucky doesn't leave Steve after he drags him out of the river. When Sam, Natasha, and Fury find Steve on the shore, Bucky's in Guard Dog Mode, and it's all they can do just to convince him to let them touch Steve in order to take care of him. IDEK where you'd take it from there. I just need Bucky to stay and know who Steve is, even if he hardly knows who he himself is. -from Avengers Gen prompts on LJ

Sooo, this doesn't follow the prompt exactly but it was inspired by it so I wanted to put it here. :) Give credit where credit is due...sort of since I don't remember who gave the prompt...ahem. *hides*

And yes, I know this has been done many times since the movie came out, but this is my version. I hope ya'll enjoy it. :)

Disclaimer: not mine, just borrowing to have some fun.

Not beta'd so please forgive me for any mistakes.

My Mission

"Then finish it…because I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

The Soldier could not stop the man's last words from repeating in his mind. Every step he took through the water, dragging his burden behind him echoed with those words.

Reaching the shore, he released his hold of the man's uniform, letting him drop easily onto the bank. He studied the beaten face, chest tight with a pain he didn't understand. The man coughed a little, water trickling from his mouth and breathed.

His chest pain eased, a strange relief given his arm was dislocated and hurting greatly. The Soldier glanced around, seeking the man's companion—the red-haired woman. He could not stay. He started to limp away, leaving the man behind.

Run. Hide. Return to base.

But…

The Soldier glanced back.

It was a brief flash in his mind, a mental picture so quick he barely saw it, but he recognized the man—Steve—as smaller and thinner, face bloodied and beaten, struggling to breathe. Fire surged in his blood, a powerful sense that he had never felt, yet somehow recognized.

The mission he had been given by Pierce was wrong. He was not supposed to kill this man, Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. He was supposed to protect him.

Natasha did not wait for Fury to land the chopper before she jumped. She landed with a somersault and was instantly on her feet, running along the bank towards the unmoving red, white, and blue figure. Distantly behind her, she heard Sam swearing and scrambling to catch up. But it mattered little. Her whole focus was on the man who said he trusted her to save his life; a man who willingly and generously gave his trust to her despite how she had lied to him. A man she had come to trust so completely it terrified her.

"Steve!" Natasha shouted as she approached.

The man didn't move. In fact, she couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

Heart pounding, Natasha ran faster, leaping over tree branches and rocks with feline grace. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be! Not him, not Captain America, not Steve Rogers, her friend and…

The thought never finished because she finally reached him.

She dropped down on her knees beside Steve, giving him a quick once over. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the bloody gunshot wounds on his torso and his beaten face. "Oh Steve," she whispered.

Abruptly, every hair on her arm and neck stood on end. Fool! Natasha whipped her gun around.

In the foliage not three feet away from her and the captain stood the Winter Soldier. He stared at her with cold eyes, assessing, ready to spring out of the way in a second should she decide to shoot. But Natasha was a master spy for a reason. She immediately noticed how he was holding his flesh arm. It was dislocated. The Winter Soldier had no weapon either. Not that it mattered much for a trained assassin like him.

Scowling, masking her fear, Natasha shifted so her body was between the Winter Soldier and Steve.

This man was to blame for Steve's condition. This man, Steve's one-time best friend, Bucky Barnes, had nearly killed him. If Steve wasn't treated soon, the Winter Soldier may have succeeded. Rage slipped through her blood like acid. There was no logical reason for the man to stand around watching over the fallen Captain America. He could have pounced on Natasha and killed her as she had drew near. He should have already finished Steve off. But for some inexplicable reason, he hadn't.

"Natasha did you find him?" Wilson called, jogging up. "How is he?"

The Winter Soldier's eyes widened for a moment in shock as the Falcon came into sight. Apparently he had not realized Wilson had survived the fall from the helicarriers with only one wing. The pararescuer immediately took in the scene, drawing his gun in a flash.

To Natasha's surprise the assassin didn't flee or even try to attack. Instead, he stared straight at the man, assessing. Almost curious. But it quickly disappeared when Wilson stepped closer to Natasha and Steve. The Soldier tensed, posture changing to one of attack despite the weapons aimed at him.

It was the smallest dart of the eyes down, but Natasha suddenly understood.

"He doesn't know you." They'd all told the Captain that. Told Steve he had to stop the Winter Soldier. But Steve had answered each time with utter certainty: "He will."

It seemed so foolish, so naïve to think that Rogers' best friend would remember him after the decades of brainwashing HYDRA had put the man through. Wilson, Fury, Hill, and Natasha had all agreed on that. Barnes was dead and the Winter Soldier had to be stopped. But Steve had faith that Barnes would remember him. The price Steve had paid for his faith stained his uniform and ground beneath him red.

But Steve had been right. Bucky Barnes did remember him.

That was why he was still here. Natasha's heart skipped as another conclusion rapidly formed in her mind. The Winter Soldier had pulled Steve from the water. He must have. There was no way Steve swam in his condition. He was…he was guarding the fallen captain.

"Put it away, Sam," she ordered, slipping her own gun back into its holster on her thigh with deliberate precision. "Steve took a bullet through the stomach. I need you to put pressure on it."

The pararescuer sent her a short, disbelieving look before immediately refocusing on the Winter Soldier—Barnes. He had not moved. A split second later, Sam snorted and obeyed with a mumbled, "Whatever, sister."

He turned his back to the Soldier and went around to Steve's other side, kneeling down next to him.

"Hill?" Natasha tapped her comm. "Sam and I have Rogers. We need a med vac ASAP."

"There's one headed to your location now," came the senior agent's cool response. Then, in a quieter voice, "What's his status?"

"Multiple gunshot wounds, concussion, and one guard dog."

The last bit had Sam muttering, "Yeah, no kidding."

The Winter Soldier still had not stirred, following their every move and word with keen eyes. Steve's old friend may have remembered him enough to save him after nearly killing him and stuck around, but Natasha certainly didn't trust him. It was clear the assassin didn't quite know what he was doing, beyond watching the captain. One wrong move on Natasha or Sam's part and the Winter Soldier would annihilate them. It was who he was, after all.

For the first time, Natasha understood what Clint, and by extent Coulson had risked taking her alive. She knew what it was that had shaped the decisions they had made: hope. It all came down to hope. Her old life taught her hope was a weakness, something to exploit and never have herself. It was safer that way. Clint had shown her that hope wasn't always bad. He was an assassin too and knew the perils of hope. But Steve Rogers? He was hope. He believed more than anyone Natasha had ever known. But right now it was all she had. Hope that Steve would survive. Hope that the Winter Soldier did not attack. Hope that Steve was right and Bucky Barnes was in there somewhere and trying to break free. Hope that somehow all of them would come out on the other side. Natasha wasn't good at hope, but as she looked back down at the bloodied face of the good man who had calmly and sincerely told her that he would trust her, the infamous Black Widow, to save his life, she knew she had to try. She owed Steve that much.

"Hold on Steve," she whispered, cupping his head, feeling his soaked, gritty hair.

The Soldier watched the red-haired woman and the winged fighter carefully. They did not appear to be a threat to the Captain. They were treating his wounds.

Wounds he had inflicted.

An unfamiliar feeling closed his throat and he tried to shrug it off. He had a mission to protect Captain America. He was the gun and the knife; he wasn't a shield or bandage.

A helicopter was approaching. He shifted his position, readying to act.

The woman noticed. "It's a medical team," she said softly. "They're going to take Steve to the hospital."

Her companion gave her an incredulous look, but otherwise did not move. The man's was holding a piece of cloth to the bullet wounds in the Captain's stomach. It was sopping wet. The Soldier became aware of an odd burning behind his eyes and pain in his chest that did not come from his own injuries. He didn't answer her, but lowered his chin, acknowledging her words.

Yes, Steve needed a hospital. Again. Punk hated them though.

…

Where did that come from?

The Soldier felt his metal hand closing into a fist. Something was wrong with him. He was malfunctioning. He could not adequately protect his former target if this continued. He needed answers. But the only one who could give those answers was dying.

Suddenly all the bruises and scrapes took on new life. The Soldier could not remember a time he was injured so badly on a mission—no doubt because his handlers had given him the wrong one from the outset. Unfortunately, this left him with a dilemma. Injured as he was, he could not carry out his new mission.

He narrowed his eyes, studying the Captain's companions. They were good fighters. They could protect the Captain from any threats that may come for a few hours.

And if he dies because of you? A voice asked.

He won't, the Soldier thought. He's too stubborn to die.

Medics were closing in on the scene. The Soldier took his chance and melted into the shadows and disappeared.

tbc...

Thanks for reading! The conclusion for this little fic should be up in the next couple weeks. Please let me know what ya'll think.

Have a great day! :)