Work Header


Chapter Text


"You know that this is a batshit crazy plan, right?"

Bucky grins fiercely at Dugan in response, tugging on the zipline as the train whistles in the distance. He's the youngest of the group by far, but that doesn't keep them from listening to his--admittedly sometimes harebrained--schemes. The cold winter wind screeches around them as he throws his pulley over the line, Falsworth and Jones following suit ahead of him.

"Yeah, but it's gonna work!" he shouts, blinking rapidly to clear away the snow settling on his eyelashes. "Hell, twenty bucks says we get that train stopped in two clicks."

"Make it thirty, and you have a deal."

Bucky can hear Dernier rolling his eyes from his post at the comm station. As the train comes into view, he tugs again on the zipline before looking back at Dugan expectantly. The older man shakes his head with a fond smile and claps Bucky on the shoulder as he lifts his voice so Morita and Jones can hear as well, his tone shifting.

Stay safe.”

Bucky shivers as the command ripples down his spine, warm and comfortingly familiar. His manic grin softens into something gentler as he smiles back, touching two fingers to his temple.


"Ready!" Morita calls, waving at them with the binoculars still pressed to his face. Bucky squints through the snow, watches the train enter the sweet spot on the tracks, the one that will give them their miniscule window of opportunity.




Falsworth leaps off the cliff into open air, whipping down the line toward the approaching train.

Bucky grips his own pulley tight, adrenalin pounding through him. The only way the plan will work is without the use of harnesses, so that they can drop to the train free of encumberment. The plan has to work; thousands of lives depend on recovering the train's explosive cargo.




Jones hurtles down the zipline.

Bucky steps up in his place, teeth bared in a tight grin. He sees Falsworth drop onto the train across the gorge a few moments before the Brit's terse, "Clear," sounds through the comm unit in his ear.




Bucky inhales a sharp breath and jumps, hurling himself off the cliff face. The wind tears at his clothes as he speeds down the line, unable to hold back a whoop of triumph that’s greeted by tolerant snorts in his earpiece. It's fucking glorious, even as his arms strain from the weight of himself and his gear, wetness tearing at his eyes and freezing the tip of his nose.


"Clear," Jones says, a little breathlessly. Bucky watches him roll to his feet just as a glint of something bright two cars down catches his eye.


A high-pitched whistle screams through the gorge. Red and orange and grey-brown explode off the adjacent cliff face, and Bucky feels his stomach lurch--only to realize it's the line that’s moving.

"No, no, shit, no--"

The cable goes slack.


Bucky stares blankly at the swirl of white-grey above him, the black velvet of the night sky peeking through the snow. He mindlessly reaches out for a distant star as he falls, the wind whispering past, everything going serenely quiet as the tracks disappear into the distance.