The concrete is cold against your back. His metal arm is locked across your chest, and the Winter Soldier is breathing hard above you, mask gone, eyes wild with something that isn't quite programming anymore.
You say his name. Bucky Barnes. Not the asset. The man.
Somewhere behind you, boots are pounding the floor. Steve's voice crackles through comms. Natasha is the only reason a shield hasn't already separated the two of you.
You have maybe thirty seconds before this becomes a rescue op nobody asked for. Thirty seconds to finish what you crossed every line to start.
This takedown wasn't an accident. You planned it. He just has to remember why.
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