There is a plane waiting for them a few miles away. Getting the newly-freed prisoners and Steve there is a challenge, but they manage it. Sam helps a lot; it's hard for him to stay focused. Images keep flashing before his eyes, images of Steve bruised and bloody from his hands, falling away into the river. He's on edge and upset, completely different from how he felt on the mission itself.
It was his first mission after he stopped being the Soldier. Steve had given him the opportunity to join him on many missions beforehand, but he wasn't ready. What was expected of him on ops with Captain America would not be the same as what his former masters had cultivated in their favorite weapon. So he had to know he could keep himself under control (his own) before he was willing to consider following Steve again.
"I'm okay, Buck," Steve tells him quietly as he sinks slowly onto one of the seats near the hatch they just entered. He doesn't answer, just watches his friend. He is aware of Sam settling the other passengers and then going to the cockpit.
"You could have died," he says emotionlessly after the engines have started, shifting his weight so the movement of the vehicle won't affect his balance.
"Yeah, well, I didn't," Steve mumbles.
"Because of your suit. But it was just lucky they hit your center of mass," he insists, a hint of anger seeping into his tone.
Sighing, Steve leans his head on the wall behind him and closes his eyes. "You mean where there is a nice bright target?" he asks, gesturing to the emblazoned star.
"Fine," he concedes. "It helps. But, Steve," he begins, but doesn't know where to go with it.
"Bucky, it's the job. You know that. What am I supposed to do? I have a shield, I have armor. It's worked out for me this far. There isn't another way to do this."
"What is this?" he wants to know.
Steve opens his eyes to look at him carefully, his vaguely exasperated expression softening when he catches his eye. "Serving my country. I know you, of all people, can understand that."
The words are gentle and he looks away, surveying the disheveled group of people spread throughout the cabin ahead of them. "Times have changed," he mumbles.
"Yes. But they need us."
"Us?" he asks sharply, focusing on his friend again.
If Steve is startled by the intensity of his stare, he doesn't show it. "You can do great things, Buck."
"Shape the century?" The bitterness is obvious in his voice; Steve knows what he's referencing.
"No," Steve answers firmly. "This is your choice. You don't have to choose what I did. But I was made this way to help people, and Dr. Erskine was killed before he could make anyone else like me. So I owe it to him to keep scum like HYDRA from taking control." He can feel a grim smile twist his features, and Steve frowns deeply at him. "Bucky, I thought this was what you wanted. I don't want you to feel like you have to be here."
"I don't know what I want," he admits painfully. "I don't want to... to be alone with my ghosts. I don't want to lose you again, Steve," he mumbles.
Steve gives him a gentle smile. "I understand, Buck."
"But going out there, with you. Seeing you in danger, getting hurt, I don't know if I can take it."
"I can't just stay home," Steve says quietly. "I have a job to do."
He shakes his head. "I know that. But I think that... I think it was too soon. This, I mean. I don't think I'm ready for this."
"That's alright, Buck," Steve is quick to reassure him. He always uses his name more when he's worried. "I'm sure we can find another way for you to help me, if that's what you want."
Nodding tentatively, he looks out the window at the passing clouds. He hadn't noticed the take-off, though he doesn't consider that surprising. He feels like he's had tunnel vision since they were in the base and Steve was hit. His fingers clench and release out of habit and he turns back to Steve.
"I'm very good in the field. I just... Sam said he was there just to watch when Riley fell. I... I couldn't do that, Steve. I couldn't do what you did with me," he murmurs haltingly.
The expression on Steve's face is difficult to look at. "I'm fine, Buck," he repeats, though meaning much more this time. "It was endurable." He says it as though he didn't go on a suicide mission within days of watching his best friend fall from a train.
"Steve, you don't... The last time I saw you injured, it was because of me. One of the only times I've seen you injured, and it was because I was trying to kill you. I dream about it most nights," he whispers.
Steve shifts in his chair as though he will get up, but winces at the movement and stays seated. "Bucky," he painfully.
He clears his throat. "Maybe I can go on missions alone," he suggests, tone calm again.
"So I can worry about whether or not you've been recaptured if you don't answer right away?" Steve wants to know.
"Maybe neither of us should leave the house," he mutters, flashing Steve a small smile, which is reciprocated after a pause.
"That's clearly the only option. We have decades of pop culture to catch up on anyway."
Brow furrowing slightly, he shakes his head. "How do you catch up on seventy years of a changing culture?"
Steve smiles confidently. "I've made a list. Whenever someone mentions something I'm not familiar with, I add it."
A short laugh escapes him. "How's that working out for you?"
"Pretty well, actually," Steve admits with a chuckle. "It's probably not the best system, though, since I'm always finding out about things after the time it would have been useful. So I'm open to suggestions."
He considers for a moment. "Well, we could just start at the beginning and go through everything in order. It would probably make the most sense."
"Seems like a lot of work."
"Well, if we're retired," he answers with a shrug.
Steve laughs. "Have I let you talk me into that already?"
"Yes, definitely. You're going to go chat with all these nice folks now because they're your last mission and you want to make it special," he explains convincingly.
"Alright, I'd better get to it, then." Steve moves as if to get out of the seat again, but stops with a hissing breath. "That's going to be a nasty bruise."
Leaning forward conspiratorially, he grins at Steve. "Ladies love that kind of thing, you know. I bet Sharon will be thrilled."
A troubled look crosses Steve's face for just a moment before he smiles back. "I'm sure she will. Have you heard from Nat lately?"
He allows the subject to change away from what's just happened, knowing it is too painful a conversation to continue. But the very real fear of something happening to Steve is all too obvious now and he isn't sure how to deal with it.