Chapter 2
Did Sarah scream or was it Cass? Was Sam the one yelling those unrecognisable words? Bucky couldn’t tell. It was all emanating from deep underwater. Or was he the one underwater? Falling slowly and quickly and moving nowhere at all.
A rush of sounds and clarity flooded his ears. Not the birds flying outside. Not the clothes on the line behind the house. Not the waves lapping against the docks.
His ears were bombarded with Cass’ footsteps racing upstairs, Sarah’s heaving breathes, his own blood dripping onto the floor between his legs.
He didn’t remember his knees hitting the tiles, just that the ache in his knees was nothing compared to the searing pain in his hip that screamed at him.
Were his lips moving? Was he speaking?
His head snapped up at the sound of a gun being cocked, tracing the room with tired eyes.
They locked onto a soft, sad, worried, anxious, pleading gaze. It felt like they were staring into Bucky’s soul – the colours shifting, the room spinning until…
His eyes were staring at the cold tiles now as the chill melted into his cheek, adding to the icy feeling in his bones.
There might’ve been voices. There might’ve been movement.
There was definitely too much blood.
White hot pain shot through him as a scream climbed out of his throat.
"Yeah well, maybe I would’ve offered to cook if you offered to pay me some rent." Sarah teased as she closed the car door, holding a bag of groceries in her free hand.
Sam had the other two bags and the two walked side by side toward the porch.
"Hey! You offered for us to stay with you. Besides, Buck is basically a housekeeper." Sam listened to his sister chuckle at that.
He wasn’t kidding either. Every time Sam saw Sarah anywhere near Bucky, it’s ‘Sarah, did you want me to watch the kids tonight?’, ‘Sarah, did you need an extra hand in the kitchen?’, ‘Sarah, did you want some help with the boat?’, ‘Sarah’, ‘Sarah’, ‘Sarah’-
Ugh. Asshole. He was making him look bad.
The pair stepped up onto the wooden boards of the porch and Sam looked in through the kitchen window. An empty room.
"Well, at least I’ll be able to cook in peace." Sam joked as he handed Sarah one of the bags. She took it with an eye roll, giving him a free hand to open the door.
"At least he’s actually helpful. I know how much you like cooking."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam dismissed with a smile as he pushed the door open.
He’d barely had time to react as two figures came barrelling onto the kitchen tiles from the other side of the room. He’d barely had time to drop the bag, to step inside, to process that Bucky was one of the men on the floor and that he was yelling something out. He'd barely had time to react when a gunshot rang out.
Sam’s hand instinctively reached back to stop Sarah from following him inside. He watched as Cass bolted up the stairs, seeing only through the entryway on the far side of the room.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing in m-" Sam started out, taking a step forward before freezing. As he rounded the counter, he saw the man on the floor pointing a gun directly at him.
Sam turned his head to the side, seeing Sarah crouched slightly, eyes closed behind the half open door. The man on the floor climbed to his feet, letting a twisted smirk settle on his face.
"Finally, you made it." Sam held his arms out in front of him, palms facing the intruder. He could feel the twang of confusion starting to grow as Bucky hauled himself from his position on all fours, to his knees, making the man with the gun flinch slightly.
The man then took a step to the side so his back was to the wall and he could face both parties.
But Bucky didn’t get up.
"Bucky," Sam’s voice was wavering at the sight of crimson dripping onto the floor beneath his best friend. He could see the blur in Bucky’s vision from across the room. The way his eyelids were sluggishly opening and closing, the sway in his torso, the tremble in his flesh-made arm.
Sam took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when the man jerked his gun at him - emphasising that the threat was still there.
"Buck, where’s AJ?"
Sam watched as Bucky’s eyes settled into a half open position and his brow furrowed in thought.
"Uh, up… up-stairs." The stutter didn’t go unnoticed. Bucky’s head sank forward, bending his neck at an uncomfortable angle.
Sam’s chest heaved with mixed feelings of relief that the boys were safe, and deep anxiety about Bucky’s state. His eyes diverted to the roof for moment as he regained some composure, before returning to his friend.
"Put pressure on it, Buck. You have to stop the-"
"Okay, enough of that." The man between them interrupted, voice dripping with boredom.
"Who are you?" Sam’s eyes reluctantly shifted from Bucky to the man’s, as he tried to hide his internal freak out. "What do you want?"
"Like I was about to tell your friend here,’ He tilted his gun slightly to the floor, "I want to talk to the man who murdered my brother."
Sam’s stomach dropped. Murdered hisbrother?
He’s done a lot of questionable things in his life, but straight murdering somebody? Not exactly something that gets you the Captain America gig these days.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." The man cocked the gun and Sam saw Bucky’s head snap up in the corner of his eye.
"Sam!" Sarah screamed, pushing the door all the way open and seeing the room in it’s entirety for the first time. Her voice died in her throat.
Sam didn’t turn to look at her, instead he stepped forward slightly. He kept one hand out toward the man in reassurance and the other in front of his sister. Keeping eye contact with the man, he spoke in a slow, calm voice, "Everything’s okay. Right? We’re just gonna talk."
"You all keep telling me what I’m going to do." The man waved the gun around erratically, before settling it back on Sam. "You don’t know me."
"Then tell me. I’m listening. Help me understand." Sam pleaded, trying to de-escalate the alarming carelessness the man seemed to have.
"My brother. You killed him. Y-you drove him mad." Sam racked his brain for an answer. Anything at all that would help them get out of this, that would give him any insight.
Nothing.
The man continued, "He was a hero, but you all- you all spread lies."
"Who?" Sam received a confused look, as though the man wasn’t ready for anyone to genuinely ask. "Who was your brother?"
"His name was Brock. Special Agent-"
"Rumlow." Bucky groaned out, head tipping back as he looked up at the intruder’s disturbed eyes.
"Rumlow?" Sam repeated. No, no, no… that doesn’t make any sense. "I didn’t- he did that to himself."
The man let out an animalistic scream of frustration, "More lies!"
"It’s not a lie." Sam forced himself to keep his voice even. "He tried to kill us- tried to kill thousands of innocent people and then himself."
"No!" The man shouted back, expression a mixture of grief and rage. "No, he died when the hellicarriers fell from the sky. After that, he- he wasn’t himself."
The room fell silent when a weak chuckle sounded from the floor. A small smile spread across Bucky’s face, a thin streak of blood trickling down the corner of his lips. "He worked for," A wet cough broke up his sentence. Everyone watched in silence as he spat a clump of blood onto the tiles beside him. "He worked for HYDRA. He was the murderer, not Sam."
"Lies! Lies- all of it! All those files- lies! Trying to pin it on my brother." Rumlow’s brother was swinging the gun around wildly now, between Sam and Bucky and Sarah.
"Hey, hey, hey. Relax." Sam cooed. "Keep the gun right here." He moved his hand from out in front of him, to his own chest. He kept his other arm extended in front of Sarah.
The man was erratic, breathing quickly and shaking, but his gun remained on Sam now.
Good.
"He was a piece of shit." Bucky muttered as his head leaned forward once again. Both arms followed and were soon hanging completely limp on either side, fingertips meeting the floor. Sam could hear Sarah gasp as the two took in the pool of blood on the floor, now double the size it had been mere minutes ago. "The things he did…" Bucky continued to mutter under his breath.
The man’s face was rageful as he turned his head to Bucky, keeping the weapon trained on Sam. "You didn’t know him! He was a good man."
"Buck…" Sam warned. He’d seen enough files on Bucky’s time at HYDRA to know how sick and twisted Rumlow was.
"Oh, I knew him. He was a monster." The man kept his gun on Sam as he kicked Bucky sideways with his boot. He hit the floor hard and groaned out, arms weakly reaching for the floor to steady himself. The man hastily slammed his heel into the bullet wound and Bucky let out a strangled scream of pain.
"Stop!" Sam begged, "You’re here for me, not him!"
The man twisted his heel, digging into the wound and forcing a horrific sound to escape from Bucky’s lips. Blood sloshed and squirted from beneath the boot, adding to the collection already on the floor.
"Stop!" Sarah was standing at Sam’s side now, both arms raised. Sam gave her a worried look, pleading with his eyes for her to stop. He reached a hand across her, but she stepped forward anyway. The man switched the gun to her, making her flinch but not step back.
"Sarah…" Sam spoke softly.
"He doesn’t know what he’s saying." Her voice was shaking, but her face remained strong. The man pushed his heel down, and Bucky’s arms shifted weakly as he groaned.
"He’s bleeding out. Just, let me help him." Sarah’s eyes were desperate as they locked onto the man in front of her’s. "Please let me help him." He straightened, eyes narrowing as he considered. After what felt like years, he stepped off Bucky’s body with a final stomp. Slowly, Sarah moved closer to them. Her eyes were glued to the gun, keeping her quivering hands raised.
Sam needed that gun on him.
He stepped forward as well, and the man instantly recognised the movement. The gun snapped back to him.
"You wanna talk? You want me? You’ve got me. I’m right here."