Chapter 2
Sam couldn't shake his growing concern for Bucky. Something wasn't right—Bucky wasn't behaving like his usual stoic self, battle-hardened by years of trauma and combat. He seemed disoriented during conversations, his thoughts drifting, and he was turning down missions for the first time. Sam couldn't forget the haunted look in Bucky's eyes when he missed a shot on their last mission—a rarity for the sharpshooter who had spent more years behind a scope than Sam had been alive.
Knowing the super-soldier serum had enhanced Bucky made the situation even more baffling. Bucky wasn't supposed to fall ill. Sam couldn't recall ever seeing him sneeze. Whatever plagued Bucky seemed rooted in his psyche—perhaps exacerbated by recurring nightmares or heightened PTSD symptoms. There were numerous possibilities, but Sam wrestled with respecting Bucky's autonomy while wanting to lend his support.
Lost in his thoughts, Sam was abruptly jolted by a rhythmic thudding sound emanating from Bucky's room, accompanied by strained grunts. "Bucky?" Sam called out, anxiety lacing his voice.
“Hey man, I’m coming in. Let me know if you need me to stop,” Sam said, reaching for the doorknob. With no response, he pushed the door open.
Sam steeled himself for seeing Bucky caught in a nightmare or reliving a past trauma. Anything, he thought, would be more manageable than the reality—a full-blown tonic-clonic seizure shaking Bucky on the small bed. Sam's training as a pararescue kicked in, and he rushed to Bucky’s side.
“Bucky, hey!” Sam's voice was urgent yet steady as he assessed the situation. He recalled the basics of first aid, trying to keep calm as he turned Bucky onto his side and cushioned him with a pillow.
The seizure seemed to last forever, though it lasted only a few minutes. Sam spoke gently to Bucky as he tried to rouse him. “Bucky, it’s Sam. You had a seizure, man. Should I call for help? You scared the hell out of me.”
Suddenly, Bucky jerked forward and vomited, his body betraying the violent aftermath of the seizure.
“Easy there,” Sam murmured, using the sheet to wipe Bucky's clammy face.
“Know where you are?” Sam asked gently, trying to anchor Bucky in the present.
Bucky looked around with tired eyes, finally recognizing Sam’s presence.
“S’evie?” Bucky mumbled, his speech slurred and disjointed.
Sam winced at the name.
“Buck, it’s Sam. You’re safe here with me in the safe house. It’s 2024,” Sam reassured him, hoping to ground Bucky in reality.
Bucky seemed to process the information, nodding weakly before closing his eyes and laying back.
Sam sighed, realizing he needed help. He hurried to fetch his phone from the adjoining room, dialing Sarah’s number. He needed her steady guidance in this crisis.
Sarah: Hello? It’s 4 am Sam.
Sam: Bucky just had a seizure, and I’m freaking out!
Sarah: What! Sam! Is he okay?
Sam: I’m not sure. He’s asleep now, but he threw up and called me Steve for a moment.
Sarah: Sam, get him to a hospital! Has he had seizures before?
Sam: Can’t, Sarah! We’re on a mission, and leaving now’s too risky. He’s a super-soldier, he has literally survived the un-survivable! If he has another, i’ll try and get a medical evac.
Sarah: Sam, this sounds serious. Don’t wait!
Bucky began to stir, wincing as he shifted onto his back.
Sam: He’s waking up. I’ll call you later!
“Easy, take it slow,” Sam advised, placing a steadying hand on Bucky’s chest to keep him laying down.
“Sam? What are you doing in here? What happened? Ugh, did I puke?” Bucky asked, bewildered.
“You had a seizure, Buck,” Sam explained gently.
Bucky looked at him with glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill. “Oh. My head hurts.”
Sam turned and retrieved the frozen vegetables from the floor, gently placing them on Bucky’s forehead before giving him a few moments to regain his bearings.
“What’s going on, Buck?” Sam asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Don’t know, Sam,” Bucky admitted, drawing a shaky breath. “I keep having these… episodes, I guess. My hand shakes, headaches, seizures… It’s like when I escaped Hydra all over again.”
“You’ve been having seizures? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What if something had happened while we were on the mission!” Sam exclaimed, struggling to contain his frustration.
“Didn’t want to burden you. Didn’t know what to do. But I think something is wrong with me.” Bucky sighed, letting his eyes close again.”I can’t ignore this anymore… It’s getting worse,” Bucky confessed, his voice barely a whisper.
"Okay, Buck," Sam said softly, his reassuring tone cutting through the tension in the room. "Let's get you some help. And remember, you're not alone in this. I've got your back. No matter what." As he spoke, Sam reached out and placed a comforting hand on Buck's back, hoping to offer strength and support despite feeling his worry.
“Let's start with getting you cleaned up,” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a mess.”
Bucky groaned as Sam pulled him into an upright position.
“Give me a minute, dizzy,” Bucky mumbled as his face paled. Vertigo hitting him.
“Take as long as you need, man. I’m right here when you’re ready.” Sam gently replied.
Bucky’s face shifted from white to a sickly gray-green as he swallowed convulsively to stop the bile rising in his throat. “Gonna be sick,” he whispered, suddenly standing up and stumbling to the bathroom.
Sam followed from a respectful distance as Bucky barely made it in time to heave forcefully into the dirty bathroom toilet.
After what felt like forever but could only have been a few minutes, Bucky leaned against the wall, panting.
“You good?” Sam asked, even though he knew Bucky was not doing well.
Bucky rubbed his forehead, “Yeah, I’m just tired.” he sighed.
“Alright, let's clean you up, and then you can rest until Joaquín gets here,” Sam replied.
As they worked together to clean Bucky up, Sam pushed down his fear, grateful that Bucky had trusted him enough to share his pain. He could only hope that whatever plagued Bucky was fixable—that Bucky could finally find peace after enduring so much pain.