I’ve chosen this death before. In the past... Or my relative future. Time is folding in and around itself, and the only way to remember where I am and when I am and what I have to do... Is to look ahead.

I’ve chosen this death before.... But I’ve denied it, too. I am a reckless, arrogant, stubborn son of a bitch, but I don’t have a death wish. I don’t want to die. Not here. Not on this day, under these circumstances. Like I’m just a puppet on a string. We have to get out of here, though, and if this is the only way... And I believe it is, because it’s just twisted enough to work... Then I will grit and I will bear it. I will face my death and bite back the fear that has me gripping onto Steve’s shoulders just that much tighter.

Because this is the trajectory of my life...

And it’s time to make history.

Bucky relaxes his hands inasmuch as the situation will allow, pressing his weight onto Steve as he lifts one knee up on the seat of the bike in preparation. There’s little time for conversation, the end of the makeshift runway already dangerously close, but Bucky manages to slap a smile on his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, his fear etched too deeply for a flash of teeth to be convincing.

“See you on the other side.”