Re: [Facility: Tony/Steve]
[Steve Rogers was a weapon. Captain America was the branding. But nuance, right now, didn't much matter. The man looked, eyes in a dull red, as Stark spoke, only breaking eye contact once the other man sighed. He stared down at his feet, at the rotting leather of his boots, trying to take in what he was being told.
HYDRA got him when you lost him that first time.
No, no, no.
The guilt, never dormant, was overwhelming, feeding on keenly felt loss. Steve should've gone back for Bucky. He should've found him... He should've -- If he was alive, then he could have helped him... Bucky would've done it for him. Oh, God. No.
Anything else Stark said was gone, like the scream of metal hinges in his ears and nothing more, and Steve gaped at nothing. HYDRA, was all his brain told him. HYDRA. You were supposed to take them down. The plane, and the Skull, and, Steve, you did nothing.
He swallowed, jaw clenching in a flex of muscle, and he walked away.
If the man on the film footage had been Bucky...
If he was still alive...
What happened to him? What happened to make him—that?
It felt like someone had Steve's heart in their fist and squeezed. He'd left Bucky in the snow, and someone had taken him—HYDRA had. And they...
Steve left the building with a loud BANG of metal doors. He grabbed his shield from the back of his bike and he thrust the lip of it into the winter-hard dirt, and started hacking away at the earth.]