Twisted Ends

Sam watched quietly as Bucky slept, slumped over on Rhodeys leather couch. He observed the slow rise and fall of his chest, how his brows were furrowed even in rest, mouth pinched slightly downwards. There were dark circles under his eyes that even from where Sam sat across the room, he could make out how they chiseled into his face. He looked so exhausted, like the last hundred years had been sucked out of him in the span of twenty-four hours.

“Help me with the plants?” Rhodey appeared at his side, taking a glance at Bucky’s still form before thumbing to the back patio. Sam raised a brow in question. It was the dead of night.

“What kinda plants you got, Rhodes? It’s the middle of the-”

“Fuck sakes, Wilson.” Rhodey glared, hissing at him quietly. “Just come outside with me without asking stupid questions.”

Sam blinked. Rhodey continued to glare. The guy really could be menacing when he wanted to be. Guess that’s how he made it to Colonel. And dealt with a menace to society like Tony Stark.

The thought of Tony made his stomach churn, and he shook the thought from his mind. It was a dangerous trail of thought that no good would come out of. He opted for the less depressing option and followed Rhodes outside, the midnight breeze refreshing on his skin after a scorching day. Scorching...

Sam frowned, resisting the urge to run back inside and check on the sleeping super solider currently laid up on the couch. He had seen Bucky with his fair share of injuries, it wasn’t something that was exactly new. On the contrary, Bucky seemed to attract trouble the way honey attracted bees. Or worse. Attracted bears. Bucky most definitely in this metaphorical situation attracted bears. Polar bears if one wanted to be so specific.

He had never met someone with such shit luck in his entire existence on this planet. Bucky collected injuries the way a Boy Scout collected badges; it was downright ridiculous. Between him and Steve, Sam was honest to God amazed that the two of them made it to adulthood, let alone surviving and amazingly enough THRIVING during the World War. Not that Sam would say being good at not being brutally murdered by Nazi’s was thriving per say, but he had to give them something. Between the two of them, with a tremendous amount of respect of course, there wasn’t a god damn brain cell between the two of them.

Or at least, there HADN’T been a braincell between the two, because Steve was gone, and he was all Bucky had left. It was a sobering thought. And Bucky had almost died tonight, all because Sam was too self-righteous to keep him in the loop of events that had been unfolding.

He had truly believed he was doing the right thing, that not involving Bucky was somehow the right call. The best course of action. The most merciful course of action. Because Bucky had been through more shit in his lifetime than anyone Sam had ever known combined, and if anyone deserved just a sliver of peace, it was Bucky.

He just hadn’t been able to find the strength to drudge up the past, and the more he had dug and the more he had unearthed, it became more and more difficult to bring to light.
God, the things he had found. The evil and vile things he had discovered. How the more he rummaged through the vastly overwhelming and never-ending files, the more he was able to peel away the malicious and sickening head of HYDRA’s expansive history. How all these little pieces were beginning to come into place. The more he saw familiar names and familiar faces, all involved in evildoings that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, the more he had wanted to just drop all course of action and run.

But Sam had never run from a fight in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. So, he’d dug, and he pried, and he PUSHED, and the more he pushed, the more that was revealed. They were finally so close to placing all the puzzle pieces together when he’d received that envelope.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath in, the taste of midsummer honeysuckle heavy on his tongue. He should have told Bucky the moment he had become suspicious of the GRC. Should have flown to his Brooklyn apartment and checked in on him, ACTUALLY checked on him. To see how he was doing outside of the curt and far between texts, but he hadn’t. Because deep down he’d known that Bucky wasn’t okay, that he was struggling in a century that he should have never lived to see. And Sam, for seemingly the first time in his life, he hadn’t known what to do. Hadn’t known how to broach the topic, how to be of service. Funny, because he’d told Bucky the exact same thing back in Delacroix, yet here he was. Failing at his own advice.

All his experience as a counselor for the VA, and he hadn’t a clue how to help Bucky, because Bucky deserved someone that could help him make sense of everything that had happened to him. To help him out of the dark pit that he had been slowly sinking into. That he was fighting to drudge himself out of. He deserved the best.

And that hadn’t been Sam, because he just couldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t fail Bucky. Bucky needed someone better than him. So, he’d carried on in D.C, hiding behind the shield and the responsibilities that came with it. Like a coward. And now Bucky was paying the price.

Rhodey loudly cleared his throat, giving Sam a pointed look. “Gathering wool up there, Wilson?”

Sam shook his head slowly, pursing his lips as he considered the onslaught of thoughts plaguing him. “Nah, man. Just…” He sighed, risking a quick glance at the house behind him. Rhodey squinted. “I just…It’s my fault, you know? I should have told him.”

Rhodey hummed placidly. He pulled out a lighter, slapping the top up and down, the metallic tink echoing in the empty yard. He turned to Sam, still fidgeting with the lighter. “You definitely should have.” He stated cooly.

Sam blinked.

Rhodey continued. “I’m not going to bullshit you, Sam. You know that. You should have kept Barnes in the loop the moment we started digging, I told you that before.” He let out a deep sigh, continuing to slap the lighter top up and down. “I know you were trying to protect him, but that,” Rhodey waved into the air between them. “Withholding that information, that wasn’t your call. That should have been up to him. He should have been able to decide whether he wanted to be a part of the mission or not, not being left in the cold.” Rhodey smacked the lighter closed with a metallic click. “Barnes deserves to make his own decisions.”

Sam felt his chest tighten. He clicked his tongue. “I know that Rhodey, you know more than anyone that I know that.” He rolled his head back, looking up at the nighttime sky. There wasn’t a star in the sky, just light pollution.

“Bucky deserves everything and more. I just wanted to protect him.” He whispered quietly.

Rhodey sucked his teeth before placing the lighter back in his pocket. He closed the distance between Sam, giving him a firm, if a bit harsh smack on the shoulder. It stung, but it was grounding.

“Sam, I hear you.” Rhodey followed his gaze, eyes scanning the sky for anything other than smog. “But all of this, this isn’t on you. And I think you’re using all of it as an excuse out of feelings you haven’t even begun to acknowledge.”

Sam frowned. “The hell are you talking about?” Rhodey sighed in exasperation. Sam could make out his left eye twitching.

“You and Barnes, Jesus H Christ. You two are two fucking peas in a clueless pod.” He gave Sam’s shoulder another squeeze. “Just do me a favor, would you brother?” Sam gave a slow, confused nod.
“Stop pushing him away.”

“I’m not.”

“Sam, you are.”

Sam huffed, pulling away from Rhodes. “No, I’m not Rhodey. I’m just not what Bucky needs right now.”

Rhodey made a frustrated grumble in the back of his throat. Sam had the faint inkling that he was about to be torn apart. ‘Oh my god, like Bucky and that stupid bear analogy.’ Karma really was a bitch, wasn’t she?

“I think that you need to stop fighting whatever it is that you’re dealing with, Sam. Because from how I see it, you’re letting duty and whatever else is going on in that stupid head of yours affect what really matters. It’s all sitting right there in front of you man, and you’re being too obstinate to see it.”

Sam felt that same inkling, that same flutter scurry about in his chest. He knew what Rhodey was referencing. He knew that people noticed something, something tangible between himself and Bucky. How it wasn’t just friendship and loyalty that glued them together. Hell, Sarah had called him just the other day and had asked when he was going to make it official with ‘that white boy of his’. When he had asked her what she could ever mean, the earful he’d received was enough for two lifetimes. He could still hear her tongue lashing in his ear.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson!” she had all but yelled in her inside mom voice. Somehow the angry whisper was worse. “Don’t you play coy with me now. You better make things right with that boy before someone else does.” Sam scoffed then, but maybe she had a point. Maybe Rhodey had a point.

He gave Rhodey his own slap to the shoulder, giving the other man a firm squeeze. Rhodey eyed him heavily. “I appreciate you, man. You know that right?” Rhodey slowly nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. So, the Colonel did smile then.

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. He could feel the headache starting to form behind his eyes. “What do I do, Rhodey?” He turned to him, feeling his eyes water just slightly. Everything felt so overwhelming, the flood of emotions finally breaking from their dam.

Rhodey shrugged, kicking the tuff of grass at his feet. He had a pensive look on his face, the one that meant he was about to say something bone cutting.

“Sam…” Rhodey paused, eyes cutting to the back porch. Sam followed, sighing heavily. Of course.

Bucky was leaning casually (or barely standing, could be either with him currently) against the door frame, his ice blue eyes like daggers through the dark. Even injured, the mother fucker was silent, like a cat stalking its prey. Sam really needed to put a damn bell on him before he ended up having a heart attack, the stealthy dickhead.

“Buck, what are you doing out of bed? You need the rest.” Sam walked over, giving Bucky a critical assessment. The other man was already looking better, a far cry from even thirty minutes ago. The serum was finally working its magic, the busted lip and racoon eyes from earlier barely even visible. Hell, Bucky even looked to be standing on his own two feet without assistance. It was a god damn miracle if Sam ever saw one.

Bucky rolled his eyes. The sassy bastard. “I’m as rested as I’m getting, Sam. Besides,” his blue eyes shown devilishly. “How can I be out of bed if I was never in one to begin with?”

Sam felt his own eye twitch. “Don’t you start, Barnes.”

“I’m not starting anything, Wilson. You’re the one verbally assaulting me-“

“Oh? I’m verbally assaulting you, am I? After the literal HELL STORM you just went through, you should be-“

“See? There you go again! You’re beating me, Samuel. Beating me with your words.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, James Barnes-“

“OH, my fucking GOD.” Rhodey cried out, hands reaching up to wrap around his head. He looked between the two of them, eyes wide with a baffled expression. “I swear on my grandmothers grave, god rest her sweet soul, I will murder the both of you if you two don’t STOP.” Rhodey raised his eyebrows in exasperation. His voice lowered. “I literally would be pulling hair out if I fucking had any.”

Bucky immediately pointed at Sam, that cheeky son of a-

“Barnes!” Rhodey slapped his hand down. Bucky pouted. Sam felt himself smirk victoriously. Then Rhodey turned his glowering gaze to him, and he quickly wiped it off his face. Last thing he needed was his Captain America career ending prematurely because he got his shit rocked by War Machine.

“Okay, Rhodes. Okay.” Sam sighed, giving Bucky his best mock scowl. Bucky raised his eyes, unimpressed. Jesus, less than two hours of sleep and he was already back to being the biggest pain in his ass. Asshole.

Bucky’s expression suddenly changed, turning somber as he stepped past Sam and out into the yard. Sam followed, Rhodey sighing heavily and following suit.

“What is it?”

Bucky silenced him with an aggravated wave, frowning as he silently walked towards Rhodeys workshop. He gave a pointed head jerk towards the eve before leaping up to the top in a single pounce, landing without so much as a whisper.

Wow, Sam thought. His mouth was suddenly very dry. That was something that he, without the shadow of a doubt, should not find even remotely attractive. He gawked up at Bucky in awe.

Rhodey made to make a noise of protest. Bucky promptly reached into his tight skinny jeans and yanked out his phone, moving so quickly that it was almost impossible to track. He launched his phone, smacking Rhodey in the forehead.

“SON OF A BITCH!” Rhodey yelled, bending down with his head in his hands. Sam’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, looking between Rhodey clutching his head and Bucky clambering around on Rhodeys workshop.

“Bucky, what the hell man? You can’t just hit Rhodes like that!” Sam pointed helplessly at his phone. “You need to tell me first! That would have been trending on Twitter and TikTok!” Rhodes made an animalistic growl beside him. “Oh Jesus, I was just making an observation, Rhodey.”

Bucky plucked something from the eve of the roof before leaping back down to the ground. He effortlessly moved out of the way of Rhodeys fist, eyes never leaving the object in his hand. He made a disgusted face before tightening his grip, crushing whatever he had into a pulverized piece of twisted metal and wires.

“Sorry, Rhodes.” Bucky’s face was pulled into an irritable frown. “Figured you’d want me to stop you before whoever was listening could make use of it.” Rhodey snatched the spyware from Bucky’s hand, eyeing it in bewilderment.

“The fuck?”

“It’s a bug, Rhodes. Like, in the action movies?” Bucky deadpanned. If the situation wasn’t so dire, Sam would have fought the urge to snort. Unfortunately, he had a sinking feeling starting in his gut.

Rhodey looked back up at Bucky, before turning concerned eyes to Sam. It was a look he’d never seen on his face before. Sam felt his stomach twist in discomfort. “The fuck?” Rhodey repeated.

“Someone has your house bugged, Rhodes.”

“Shit.” Sam gently took the crushed bug from Rhodey, turning it over quietly in his hands. It looked so small, so insignificant. How in the hell did it get here? Who the hell put in here?

“How the hell did someone bug your house, Rhodey?” Sam asked. “Isn’t the War Machine suit supposed to detect things like this?” Rhodey nodded mutely.

“Oh.”

Bucky eyed the rest of the house wearily, chewing at his lips as he scanned the rest of the yard. He turned cautious eyes to Rhodey. Sam could see the shadows of something dark beginning to rattle around in his expression.

“Only person who could bug it would have to know how the suit works.”

“No one knows how the suit works. Just me. And Tony, obviously.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Bucky murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl.

Rhodey seemed to come to some epiphany. Understanding seemed to blossom between the two of them, leaving Sam, per usual, in the dark. Sam blinked in confusion. Rhodey spoke quietly. “Oh. Oh, that’s not good.”

“What? What’s not good?” Sam asked.

“Barnes, can you do your thing?” Rhodey motioned anonymously to the house behind them. Bucky nodded, murder strutting his way back through the screened in porch. Sam blinked after him.

“Can someone fill me in? Just maybe?”

Rhodey pulled Sam towards the corner of the property, his eyes now frantically searching the hedges and dark spaces. He pulled Sam in close. Sam could feel the vibrating uneasiness in the air.
“Sam, who did Barnes say sent him on that mission?” Rhodey asked quickly.

Sam frowned. “The CIA.” Rhodey shook his head. Sam felt his head muddle with confusion. “He said CIA, Rhodes.”

“He said Sharon did.” Rhodey looked back towards the house. They paused their conversation, watching as each room light came on. A silhouette moving like a shadow, making quick work in each room before moving on to the next. Rhodey turned back to Sam. “He said Sharon sent him that lead. And who else was close to Captain America and Iron Man before everything went to absolute shit?” Sam felt his blood freeze.

“Sharon.” Rhodey nodded.

“Yeah, Sam. Sharon.”

Sam shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the scenarios rapidly firing off in his head. Why would Sharon bug Rhodeys house? What would she gain from incapacitating Bucky? Why would she want Bucky out of the picture? None of it made any sense. He’d gotten her the pardon she had so desperately wanted. She had finally been able to come home, to her family, her job, her country. They had put behind any ill feelings towards the past behind them, where they belonged. In the past.

“Rhodey, what could Sharon possibly gain from all of this?”

“I think you need to ask yourself, what could Sharon possibly lose from all of this, Sam.” Bucky emerged from the shadows beside them, his face partially hidden in the dark, his usual bright blue eyes an obscured, cool steel. Rhodey and Sam jumped.

“Jesus, Barnes.” Rhodey clutched at his chest. “Make some god damn noise, would you?”

Bucky didn’t respond, didn’t acknowledge Rhodeys comment. He only had eyes for Sam, his piecing gaze seeming to cut through Sam’s core.
Sam could feel goosebumps beginning to prickle along his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand. Bucky didn’t have on his usual stern and pessimistic aura about him. No, this was something else entirely. It was the eyes, how he was standing. It wasn’t the Bucky he knew, but a predator ready to spring upon its prey. There was an animalistic and feral look about him.
Sam gulped. Bucky tracked it before his eyes quickly shot back to his face, his expression dead except for his tic, one that Sam had slowly noticed. Bucky’s jaw was clenching tightly to the left, and if Sam listened, he swore he could almost hear them grinding. He gave Bucky a slow nod. Regardless, he trusted Bucky with everything he had. If Bucky suspected something, Sam would follow him through it. No matter what.

“What are you thinking, Buck?”

Bucky sniffed, reaching into his jeans and revealing more bugs. Rhodeys eyebrows shot up. Sam felt his headache slowly growing worse. Bucky’s face briefly transformed into an enraged snarl before quickly dropping into an expressionless mask.

“I think,” he stated passively, his voice flat and without any ounce of emotion. “That we need to give our dear friend at the CIA a visit.”