Chapter 1
After the Air Force, Sam had always thought that his life would return to normalcy, one in which he would know what to expect out of each new day.
He would do work he enjoyed, at the VA office that helped him so much when he had returned to civilian life. Sam loved his job, and considered it a blessing that he could say that. He would continue to work through his own issues, because no matter how long it's been since a soldier has served, it takes some time for the nightmares to truly go away. As a counselor, he knew that better than anyone.
Sam even hoped he would meet someone sometime soon. An interesting, fun person that he could marry and buy a bigger house, with the white picket fence and all. Maybe they could get a pool in the back, for their 2.5 kids or whatever.
But Sam kept going on dates, and kept coming home disappointed. There wasn't anything wrong with the people themselves, he was sure they were wonderful. Most people he went out with even seemed to want a second date. It was like there was something missing, missing from him.
Regardless of that weird feeling, Sam certainly was surprised when Captain fucking America and his attractive redheaded spy friend showed up on his porch needing a place to stay. And he was definitely surprised that as they made plans around his kitchen table to take down a decades old Nazi group, that this was the most…engaged he'd felt since he'd gotten home.
Maybe he just missed his wings.
*
Being able to fly again, was like waking up.
Sure, every time he dived down toward the ground he thought about Riley’s screams, but it was easy to push those thoughts away. They had to save the goddamn world after all. Him and Steve (and Natasha) made a good team. They had each others back, and maybe this was what Sam had felt was missing from his life. A mission.
All of a sudden, he had one. And this was a mission that if they failed would cost millions of people their lives. The stakes were high, and the only thing standing in the way was one Steve Rogers and his friendship with the Winter Soldier.
Sam understood how hard it would be to take out your best friend, your brother. If it was Riley…
But when the Soldier ripped the wings off of Sam’s pack, he got pissed. He needed those to save Steve next time his dumbass went flying through the sky, expecting someone to rescue him since he couldn't be bothered to add a parachute to his uniform. Sam was sure they made them in red, white and blue.
Even though he was virtually benched from helping aerially, Steve still went after the Soldier, on the quinjet, alone. Sam covered the ground, where Steve needed him to be. But what they needed from the Soldier was a show of faith. Steve would probably die before killing him, so they needed a show of faith.
And when the jet went down, Sam thought the worst. But Steve was fine. He needed a couple days (probably less) in the hospital to get him patched up. Because The Wint - Bucky, had saved his life.
And that was a show of faith if Sam had ever seen one.
*
After the battle, Sam offered to help Steve look for Bucky. Steve seemed surprised, but almost relieved to have a companion go along with him. When Sam had said that he did what Steve did, he’d meant it.
Sometimes, Sam worried about Steve. Waking up seventy years after thinking you were killing yourself to save the world… Bucky Barnes wasn't the only supersoldier that needed a shrink. Everyone he’d known is dead, and that's why Steve was chasing Bucky like his sanity depended on it. Because it did.
So that’s how Sam found himself drinking cheap coffee in a even cheaper motel that lacked insulation with an ancient superhero, introducing him to wonders of Netflix.
When they weren't blowing up Nazi’s, this is what they did. Sam would talk for hours about some arbitrary thing of the twenty-first century that Steve hadn't been around for. Steve would listen attentively, eyes never leaving Sam’s face, sometimes even taking notes in that little notebook he carried around.
Right now, they were watching Grey’s Anatomy, which Steve was totally into, even if he wouldn’t admit it. They’d been in this same motel for nearly a week now, doing recon on a HYDRA base located in the mountains of Washington state. The whole potential rock climbing thing was making the operation a little difficult.
Sam snorted at the image of the doctors pulling a bullet out of someone's abdomen. “They should try doing that in Afghanistan. Without local anesthetic.”
Steve looked over at him. “We're you the one pulling the bullets out or the one getting shot?”
“Usually the one pulling bullets out. Sometimes with my bare hands. They took the term ‘flight surgeon’ very literally once I got the wings. Pulling guys out and patching them up.” Sam grinned. “Whenever I got hit, I pulled the bullet out myself.”
“Wow. That’s amazing,” Steve said, actually looking awed.
“Okay, CaptainAmerica.”
Steve looked as though he was going to argue, when his S.H.I.E.L.D issued phone went off. He darted across the room after it, because that phone only rang if there was danger, or if it was Natasha. Neither one of those options were allowed to go unanswered.
Sam half listened to Steve’s conversation, and half watched Meredith Grey make out with McDreamy. It sounded as though Natasha had called, but danger had decided to tag along.
Steve hung up the phone, and turned to Sam. “Something's happening in New York. No aliens or robots this time, just some crazies keeping a building hostage.”
“Just? Crazies? You mean terrorists, right?”
Steve barely acknowledged Sam’s comment as he shoved his clothes into his duffle. “You know I’m coming right?”
That’s when Steve looked up. “You can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” Sam asked.
“Someone's gotta be on the lookout for Bucky. He might resurface while I’m distracted,” Steve said.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Does Bucky need me more than all those hostages?”
Steve froze, his frame hard against the flowered wall paper of the room. He quickly changed the subject. “There’s the HYDRA base...we’ve been doing recon for almost a week.”
“And you want me to take it alone? Unlike you Steve, I don’t go around looking for people to fuck my shit up.”
That made Steve crack a smile, diffusing some of the tension in the room. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That wasn't very considerate of me.”
Sam took a breath. “I mean the plan’s just to gather Intel and set the place aflame right? I think, I think I can handle that on my own.”
“Are you sure, Sam? If you get yourself killed because I wasn't there to watch your six…” Steve’s brow is furrowed in worry, even though he was the one to suggest this idea in the first place.
He wasn't going to let down Captain America. Sam’s ten year old self would never forgive him. But even more than that, Sam wasn't going to let down Steve Rogers. That was one thing he’d learned these past few weeks, sharing a space with him. Cap was great, but Steve was the one that Sam was going to follow.
“Hey, don't worry about me. I can join you in New York after if you want,” Sam said, helping Steve gather his things.
“No. New York’s not...the same for me anymore. As soon as I’m done I’ll be back in D.C., if you’ll have me of course.” He shifted uncomfortably, remembering that he was now homeless after the whole fake assassination of Fury in his apartment.
“Obviously. You still haven't made me those pancakes you claim are better than mine.”
Steve laughed. “Ok, maybe that was a bit of a lie. We did boil everything.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Even the pancakes?”
“I hope to god not.”
They laughed, trying to mask this goodbye with humor. It wasn't a goodbye, not really. Sam would see Steve back in D.C. If he didn't get killed. Or vice versa. Steve wasn't immortal.
Steve picked up his duffle, and walked toward Sam’s side of the room. “You’re gonna be careful, right Falcon?”
Sam accepted his hug. “You’re not gonna get yourself killed, right Cap?”
Steve laughed. “I’m gonna miss this,” he said as he walked out the motel door with a wave.
“Me too,” Sam said to an empty room. And he was. Watching Steve learn the lyrics to modern pop songs, and catching him singing them later in the shower. Listening to Steve talk about disastrous double dates with Bucky back in the day, when none of the dames were interested in him. Sam told Steve about some of his dates gone wrong, and Steve couldn't stop laughing.
Eating Chinese takeout and watching stupid TV. Driving with the windows down across the country, stopping the bad guys. Sam hadn't had this much fun with anyone since Riley. This wasn't much different actually. He was fighting a war with Steve, just like he did with Riley.
And you know how that ended.
Sam shoved that thought to the back of his mind, and prepared to kick some Nazi ass.
*
As a bullet whirred past Sam’s head, he realized that maybe this hadn't been his best idea of yet.
He’d gotten in, just as planned. Through the air vents, which were very narrow, straight into an empty computer lab. He shoved the S.H.I.E.L.D drive into their computer, and managed to copy the files without any alarms going off.
However, the alarm did go off when a HYDRA tech walked in, and pressed his emergency button before Sam could shoot him in the head.
So now, Sam was running, for his life. Something in his stomach knew this wasn't going to end well. He looked behind him, and regretted it soon after, because there were ten Nazi’s on his heels and Sam was nervous. He was prepared to take himself out before HYDRA got his hands on him, but the idea of that made him feel lightheaded. Sam turned a corner quickly, and was pulled into a room before he could squeak.
“Stay quiet.” A voice came from behind him. He wasn't sure who the hell had him captive in this very small closet, but it was way better than the boots of the HYDRA agents outside, chasing after an intruder that was no longer there. Apparently, Sam wasn't the only one gracing HYDRA’s doorstep today.
Activity continued to carry on outside, so Sam obeyed, and the grip on his face relaxed. Sam turned a bit, and was met with the smirking face and shiny metal arm of the Winter Soldier.
“I’m guessing you’re not gonna kill me?” Sam whispered.
“Would've happened already.” Bucky Barnes said.
Sam snorted. “Then I suppose you're here for the same reason as me?”
“To blow this place up? Yes. But I’m mostly here to save your dumb ass.” Barnes said.
Sam didn't really understand what he meant, but Bucky gestured for him to shut up, so Sam resolved to ask later.
“So here’s what we're gonna do.” Barnes said.
They compared the amount of ammo Sam had to Bucky’s, and then compared explosives. Bucky grinned when he saw Sam's lot. “I think we could be good friends, Sam.”
They busted out of the closet at the same time, taking out everyone in the hall before making a break for the doors, dropping rigged explosives as they ran.
Bucky was grinning and grinning, different from the smile he wore in the pictures in the Smithsonian. Honestly, Sam may have smiled a bit too, because there was something beautiful about watching HYDRA’s strongest weapon destroy its creators.
Bullet after bullet went into Sam's opponents, and he couldn't find it in himself too feel one bit of remorse. He thought about that picture of Bucky in cryofreeze, and shot one straight between the eyes.
“Nice shot, Sammy.” Barnes turned that manic grin on him, and Sam had to blink with the brightness of it. Sammy. “Now let's get out of here.”
They busted through the doors, and Bucky pulled out the trigger that would make the whole building blow. “I’ll let you do the honors,” he said, passing Sam the button.
The picture of Bucky’s frozen face flashed through Sam’s mind again, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. And pressed the button.
He turned away as the building blew. But Bucky didn't. He watched as each bomb exploded with dead eyes, his grin gone. Bucky wasn't a weapon anymore, and killing, even killing for the greater good wasn't something to smile about.
Sam let his body sag into the ground, finally feeling the weight of his injuries now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He hadn't been shot, thankfully, but he had a couple knife injuries and probably a sprained wrist from when a Nazi had tried to pull his gun out of his hand.
“Hey, hey. You alright?” Bucky turned toward him, looking mostly okay. There was some bruising on his face, but any other injuries weren't visible through his outfit.
“Yeah. Just the adrenaline.” Bucky walked toward him anyway, grabbing something out of his bag.
“You’re wrist is sprained,” Bucky said, taking Sam’s wrist before he could protest. He started wrapping it in gauze.
“You’re bedside manner is impeccable.” Sam said dryly. Bucky smirked.
As Bucky worked, Sam decided it was time to start asking questions. “Earlier, you said you were here to save me...what the heck were you talking about?”
“I’ve been following you and Steve for a few weeks now.” Sam flinched with the mention of Steve. How many hours had it been? Sam needed to check the news.
“We’ve been following you.” Sam said.
“That’s what I let you think. I left clues here and there. I thought it would let you know that I was okay, and to leave me alone, but instead you idiots did the opposite. You started following me.” Bucky eyed his work on Sam’s wrist, and backed away a few feet.
“Steve was worried. The last time I saw you, you kicked me out of the sky,” Sam said.
Something like pain crossed Bucky’s face. “I know. And I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about your wings.”
Sam waved him off, wincing as he moved his injured wrist. “I don't hold it against you. You weren't yourself then.”
“I know. I know. That’s why I’ve been staying away. I didn't want to hurt anyone.” Bucky squeezed the fingers of his metal hand into a fist.
“You more than proved yourself today. Come back to D.C. with me. We’ll meet up with Steve and go after HYDRA together.”
“Don’t even get me started on Steve. I saw him leave your motel room, and then I saw you leave. I knew you were headed here. You’re not like Steve. You're not even like me. I can't believe he would send you in there alone.” Something like anger took over Bucky’s body movements, as he strategically pulled all the grass up from the ground in the area that he sat.
“You don't think I know that?” Sam was angry too. “You don't think I’m not reminded everyday how normal I am? That I’m not a superhero. Or a god. Or a super spy or a billionaire in a suit of armor. I know. Every time I bruise a rib or get stabbed, I know. Without my wings, I’m just a normal guy. So don't act like you know me, Barnes.”
Bucky looked surprised, and maybe a little hurt. “I - Sam that’s not what I - “
“It’s fine,” Sam cut him off. “Now let’s get out of here before the feds show up.”
He nodded, but stared at Sam’s face for a moment longer and Sam was finally able to get a good look at him.
He looked much better than the last time he’d seen him. Bucky’s skin wasn't quite so pale, he looked healthier, as though he’d been spending time outside. There were still dark circles under his eyes though, eyes that were almost inhumanly blue. His hair was still long, perhaps in need of a wash, held back by a piece of rope or something.
Bucky looked away quickly, packing his stuff.
“We’ll head back to the hotel and get cleaned up for the drive back, is that cool?” Sam asked, thinking it better to let Bucky know his plans so he wouldn't be surprised later.
But to Sam’s surprise, Bucky shook his head. “No. I have some more stuff to take care of, and I work alone.”
Sam scoffed. “Are you really gonna say you didn't have fun back there?” He points to the smoking building of psychopaths behind him.
“Other stuff.” He said simply in reply, though the corner of his lip attempted to turn up in some semblance of a smile. “And you need to get back to D.C.”
He sighed, not really in the mood to get into an argument with an assassin. His stab wounds were just starting to sting, and that wasn't great. “Steve’s gonna kill me,” Sam said. “But I’m going to assume you know where I live.”
Bucky nodded, and Sam tried not to feel creeped out.
“Good. When you’re ready, you know where to find me.” Sam clasped Bucky’s right shoulder, touching him for the first time of the day. He tensed, but didn't shake him off, so Sam held tight. “Please find me. Or Steve.”
“Ok.” Bucky managed, before maneuvering away from Sam and grabbing his duffle. “I’d take care of those stab wounds if I were you.” Bucky yelled over his shoulder.
Sam gave him the finger.