Twisted Ends

Bucky could feel it, whatever they had injected into him beginning to bubble underneath his flesh. He screamed, a raw and agonized sound, fighting with all his strength against the leather restraints. He swore he could almost hear it sizzling in his veins, his blood turning to ash and his innards cooking.

He could only focus on one task. On one MISSION. To escape. He had to free himself from this prison. This absolute MISERY. This excruciating, inescapable fire that was coursing through him. Burning him. Transforming him. He could feel his body changing into something. Something inhuman and unnatural and VILE.

He strained against the restraints with all his strength, back arching off the metal table as his vocal cords shredded, his animalistic shriek bouncing off the concrete walls around him. It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. He wasn’t strong enough, he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t-

It was all too much.

It was too intense, too painful to bear. The sounds of his pleading ricocheted in his melting brain, the smells of blood and sterilant and death seeming to fill his nostrils with such an intensity he feared he would gag and choke on his own bile.

He could hear their voices, their deviant, cruel voices cooing to him like he was some prized calf, boney hands running down his forehead to lick away at his sweat. “You’re doing so well, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Keep him down.” Another crooned, placing chilled hands onto his shoulders.

“Call the Captain!” Another voice shouted in his ear. Bucky screamed in agony. It was too loud, everything was dialed in too sharp-

“Bucky!”

Something stabbed into his right arm and the burning sensation increased tenfold. He grinded his teeth, crying through tears as he felt his restraints beginning to give way.

“He’s starting to bend the Vibranium!”

“Get back!” That voice…it sounded so familiar. A voice that sounded like…like someone he knew. But he didn’t know anyone, did he? Nothing had come before this.

Something flashed behind his eyes, a dream. A memory? He could picture a flying metal man, a cup of coffee, a tapped house-

“Bucky, it’s Sam! You have to calm down, Buck.”

HYDRA never…never used that name. He hadn’t had a name, he DIDN’T have a name. Only person who used that had been…

Steve. Steve had used that name, and he was dead. He was gone and he wasn’t coming back. He’d left him, abandoned him in a God forsaken future he hadn’t WANTED and he was alone, and Steve wasn’t coming for him-

“Bucky! The year is 2026 and you’re safe. You’re at Walter Reed Hospital and I am Sam Wilson. You know me-“

Bucky’s eyes flung open and woke up screaming.
---------------------------------------------------------
Sam had been scared a lot of times in his life. Back when he’d been just Samuel Wilson, smalltown boy of the bayou, he’d been afraid often. He’d lost count the number of times he’d escaped death, even back then.

Growing up in the South had taught him that the world was a dangerous place for folks like him, that danger lurked around every corner. Say the wrong thing, give someone the wrong look, and you wouldn’t just end up getting beaten to a pulp, you’d end up somewhere worse. In the morgue.

Dead.

Even in the Air Force he had been afraid. He’d been afraid of so many things.

Afraid of fitting in. Afraid of being good enough. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of…of someone discovering he wasn’t entirely straight, discovering he was a deviant, a queer as they’d called it back then. Hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t hurting anyone, that he was only loving as God intended. That there wasn’t anything wrong with him. It had been a punishable action back in the service, and he’d been terrified to lose the only thing he’d ever been good at. Afraid that he’d be thrown onto the streets, with nothing but the clothes on his back.

And then there had been Riley.

He’d been afraid of losing the only person that had only ever truly mattered to him…his wingman. Riley. And when his best friend, his PARTNER had been blown out of the sky just inches from him, that fear had ingrained itself so deeply into his soul he wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry on. Riley had been his one and only, his everything. His reason to make coffee in the morning and to catch the sunrise. He’d taught him it was alright to live, alright to LOVE, even if others had thought it wrong. That there was nothing wrong with him.

He’d wanted to give up. To give into that fear.

But he didn’t, because he was Sam Wilson. And Sam Wilson didn’t bend to fear.

But God be his witness, even with what he’d seen as an Avenger couldn’t prepare him for what was in store directly in front of him. Witnessing city’s fall from the sky and the genocide of half the planet; none of it scared him as badly as this moment.

As Bucky.

Bucky, who had been a giant pain in his ass the moment he first met him all those years ago, ripping the steering wheel out of his newly paid off car.

Bucky, who had protected him even when he’d had no reason to, back during the Sokovia accords. He’d rushed out in front of Sam, taking the brunt of the force from Spiderman that wouldn’t have killed him, but surely would have hurt like a son of a gun. He’d taken Sam delicately into his arms as they’d fallen, cushioning Sam’s fall.

Even back then. Back when Sam was just the husk of a man he’d once been.

Sam blinked back tears. He’d been so cruel to him before the battle of Thanos, his own trauma and fear reflecting on the desperate and terrified man in front of him. A man who had been stripped from everything in his life, from his family, his friends, to his own autonomy. Yet Bucky had taken it all in stride, doing what even Sam wouldn’t have done for a man he hadn’t trusted. He’d put himself selflessly into harm’s way, all for a man who’d never spoken a kind word to him.

And he’d continued doing it. He saved Sam when they had returned from five years of life lost, helping him through the discombobulated emotions and financial turmoil’s thrown their way. He’d offered shy smiles and cautious words before disappearing, and Sam hadn’t even bothered to take the time to check on him. To thank him, too caught up in living and being with his own family, so desperate to make up for lost time. Something Bucky no longer had the luxury of.

He saved him countless times with the fight against the Flag Smashers. He saved him in Madripoor, and again in New York. He was always there when Sam needed him most, in the background like a vengeful guardian angel.

And it wasn’t always saving him physically. It was other things. The little things, unimportant details. Like volunteering to help Sam as his XO, bitching at him to finish his paperwork and be on time to his meetings.

To knowing Sam’s favorite bagel order and knowing all the right things to say when he was starting to feel overwhelmed. And Sam loved him for it.

He loved him.

And then the stupid asshole had gone and nearly gotten himself killed again.

Sam knew fear intimately, but he’d never known it to this extreme before. He’d seen Bucky injured more times than he cared to recall, but he had never seen him like this.

The explosion had lit up the sky around them and for a brief moment, Sam wasn’t on an off ramp in Washington D.C. He was back in Afghanistan, watching Riley plummet to the ground, just out of reach. Always out of reach.

And then Bucky had just collapsed, blue eyes wide and confused as he had reached a hand up to his head, blood quickly dripping down his face in uncontrollable rivers. His side had been torn clean apart, the only thing saving his life was the piece of brake embedded in his flesh.

He had been so pale that Sam had thought he was already dead, even as he’d continued struggling to speak. Even with death clawing at his heels, he’d been reassuring Sam. Telling him that everything was going to be okay. That everything was okay. He’d-

Even though all the anguish and pain, he’d been there. Reassuring Sam. And Sam hadn’t been able to do anything but watch.

It was something Sam would never wish upon his worst enemy.

And now here they were, at the hospital in D.C with Bucky’s haunting screams filling the hallways and Sam didn’t know what to do.

He was failing. Again. He’d failed Riley, and now he was failing Bucky.

The screaming suddenly shifted, and Bucky shot up like a rocket, eyes flying open and flashing with a dangerous glint. Sam pushed the nurses back, because for a split second, the briefest of seconds, it didn’t seem to be Bucky piercing through them with that daunting gaze, but another person entirely. His eyes were cold, and dark, and empty.

It was the Winter Soldiers eyes.

But as quickly as it had come, that vast emptiness vanished. The frantic fear and barely contained panic it left in its wake was almost too much to bear, but Sam would bear it. Because Bucky needed him. He deserved him to be his best, because he’d always done the same for Sam.

He could do this. He wouldn’t fail again.

“Bucky! Bucky, it’s me. It’s Sam.” Sam gasped out, taking great care to not reach out.

Bucky was covered in slick sweat, the top of his hospital gown dark and sticking to his chest. His eyes were roaming the room irradicably, never focusing too long on the same spot. He was looking for an exit, Sam realized. He didn’t know where he was. He needed grounding.

Maybe…

“Bucky.” Sam lowered his voice. “Bucky, it’s Sam. You’re okay. I’m here with you, and you’re okay.” He soothed, slowly reaching out to grasp Bucky’s bandaged hand.

Bucky flinched at the touch but, for whatever reason Sam couldn’t fathom, he didn’t pull away. He turned sky blue eyes his way, his pupils dilating with terrifying speed as they roamed over his face.
Sam could see the foggy veil slowly lifting from his eyes, how they began to clear and focus. Bucky’s brows began to furrow in confusion, his eyes wandering to his wrists as he examined the Vibranium cuffs.

Sam bent down further, slowly uncuffing the pieces. “Hey now, it’s alright Buck. We only did that because you were reacting to the sedative.” He quirked an eyebrow at Bucky, who was carefully peering back. “Didn’t want you to muck up that handsome face of yours, right?”

And by God, was that the beginnings of a smile tugging at Bucky’s lips? Sam felt himself fighting back his own grin. Good. Bucky was okay. He was back. And…and he was okay. He took a steady breath.

“Wouldn’t…want that.” Bucky croaked out, grimacing as he slowly pulled his hands away from the bed railing. He rubbed his wrists, his eyes continuing to dance around his surroundings. Sam could see the wheels slowly churning, the invisible hackles were still raised. “What-what happened?”

Sam sat down in the chair beside Bucky’s bed, waving his hand at the remaining hospital personnel. They all slowly petered out the door, except one who quickly seemed to check Bucky’s IV and gathered a few instruments from the corner of the room before quietly slipping out. The quiet of the room made the atmosphere heavy and stale.

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. God, what a fucking day it had already been. And he’d never gotten that stupid Pepto.

“We were in the SUV after the tower, and Rhodey was on the phone. Do you remember that?” Sam asked.

Bucky slowly nodded. Sam watched as he pulled his lips between his teeth, chewing on them as he seemed to search his mind for the memory. “We-“Bucky paused, squinting at the ceiling. “We had to get out, because there was a bomb. And we ran, but I wasn’t fast enough. I got hit.”

Sam shook his head. “No, Buck. None of that now, you hear? You were fast enough.” Sam reached across the bed, cautiously taking Bucky’s hands in his own. Bucky gripped them back.

“You saved me and Rhodey. You-“Sam took an unsteady breath. “You protected us from the shrapnel. You almost died, for us.” Sam squeezed their hands together, willing for all his emotions, his fears, his doubts, EVERYTHING, to somehow transfer into the touch. For Bucky to understand. Understand without words what he wasn’t strong enough yet to convey out loud.

“You almost died, Buck.” Sam whispered.

Bucky looked at him with those wide, baby blues. He seemed to be studying his face, looking for something. For what, Sam wasn’t sure. He spoke slowly. “I didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t have done for me, Sam” he said gravely, looking at Sam like he had hung the stars in the nighttime sky. Sam swallowed.

Bucky’s stare was weary and drained, but there was a glint of something else in his gaze. Something warm and soft and intense about how he was looking at him, like he was terrified that at any moment, Sam would dissipate into the air and be gone. He was looking at him how Steve had looked at that stupid pocket watch. He was looking at him with such admiration and loyalty and…and love. Sam would have to be blind and incredibly stupid to not see it.

Hell, maybe he had been. Maybe he was finally starting to truly see for the first time, finally ALLOWING himself to see.

Sam felt his heart rate accelerate. Maybe he had a second chance at all of this after all…

“Barnes, you’re not fucking dead.” Rhodey burst in through the doors and Sam leaned quickly back in his chair, taking his hands with him. Out of the corner of his eyes he swore he caught a glimpse of Bucky frown, but by the time he turned back, Bucky’s face was blank and impassive.

“It does appear that way.” Bucky said lowly, his eyes slowly closing as he seemed to sink down into his mattress. Sam could make out the heavy bags under his eyes. He looked like he was still dead.

“Well, that’s good. Because I’ve got news, and I need you to not be dead preferably.” Rhodey sat down across from Sam, eyes quickly glancing over Bucky’s form. His eyes betrayed his blatant concern, even as he tossed multiple folders onto Bucky’s blanketed legs.

Sam squawked. “Rhodey!” He hissed. “He saved us both from becoming barbeque, and you’re using him as a fucking table?!” Rhodes looked up blankly, glancing slowly between the two of them before gingerly lowering another folder.

“Are you serious right now?”

“It’s fine, Sam.” Bucky murmured tiredly, reaching forward to grasp a binder. For the first time that Sam had ever seen, Bucky seemed to be moving like his actual age, the audible sound of his joints popping filling the still air. “At least this way I can easily reach them.” He said, but Sam didn’t miss the barely contained wince, the shadow that fluttered just briefly over his eyes as he leaned just a tad bit too far forward.

“Nu-huh.” Sam gently but firmly plucked the binder from Bucky’s hands, taking immense care to ensure he wasn’t accidentally tugging at healing wounds. He then turned his glare to Rhodey, smacking the folder into the other man’s forehead with surprising accuracy.

“Ow! What the fuck- “

“Are you-”

Smack.

“Out of-”

Smack.

“Your GOD-”

Smack.

“DAMNED”

SMACK. SMACK “MIND!”

Sam sat down with an indignant huff, glaring daggers Rhodey’s way. Rhodey opened his mouth to respond, but Sam quickly cut him off, pointing a daring finger. “He’s JUST woken up, Rhodes! Can you not give him two fucking seconds to gather his thoughts?”

Bucky seemed to contemplate interjecting, but after his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, he seemed to think better of it, slowly slinking himself down into the bed. Rhodes looked at him for support, but Bucky just shook his head vehemently, pulling the covers slowly over his eyes.

“I’m injured.” Came Bucky’s muffled response beneath the blanket. “I’m not a part of any of this. At all.”

Rhodey made a tutting sound, sighing heavily as he leaned back into his armchair. “Don’t give me that look, Sam.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in annoyance. “Like what?”

Rhodey grimaced. “Like you’re about to give me some lecture like I’m a five-year-old, or like I’m Barnes.” Bucky made a disgruntled sound underneath the covers but otherwise remained silent.
Sam frowned. “I’m not going to give you a lecture.” Rhodey raised an eyebrow. Sam sighed. “Okay, maybe I am. Because-“he pointed at the lump under the blanket. “HE almost died, and you’re just blowing past it like it’s nothing. Like-“Sam took a breath. “Like it didn’t happen. And that everything is just hunky-dory, when it’s not. He almost died, Rhodes. WE almost died.” Sam motioned between the three of them with his hand, feeling his anxiety beginning to spike.

Rhodes nodded slowly, tinkering with his lighter as he seemed to contemplate a response. Sam hadn’t even noticed he’d pulled it out of his pocket. Shit. Maybe he was being a bit too preachy.

“Sam, I know we almost died.” Rhodey said firmly. “Believe me, I’m aware. I was there. My poor car was there.” Rhodes gave the blankets a pointed look. “The car that I stated very firmly that I didn’t want anything to happen too, yet here we are.”

Bucky’s head popped out, his hair tousled and fluffy from being under the blanket.

Sam blinked back at the sudden barrage of indecent thoughts at the sight, mind pondering just what else could make Bucky’s hair that wild-

Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?

Bucky meanwhile gave Rhodes an indignant frown. “That’s not my fucking fault.” he quipped audaciously. Rhodes gave him a disapproving look.

“Uh-huh.” He said, his lips quirking downwards into a frown. He turned back to Sam, clicking the top up and down on his lighter. “I digress. The reason I’m pushing is because of what happened, Sam.” Rhodey’s eyes glinted in the hospital’s harsh light. “The car was compromised for who knows how long. Only reason we’re still in one piece and not a crispy piece of extra burnt toast is because of the intel we got from Barnes and Torres. Whoever is behind all of this, they are on us like white on rice. They took no time at all trying to cut loose ends when they discovered their bugs were compromised.”

Rhodey gave a heavy sigh, slapping the cap of his lighter with a loud thwack. He turned weary eyes Sam’s way, and Sam could feel guilt slowly creeping up his throat. He was being unfair to Rhodey, he knew that. It wasn’t Rhodey’s fault that any of this had happened. All he was trying to do was keep them alive, and so far, he’d done a better job than Sam had.

Sam rubbed at his temples, eyes bouncing between Bucky and Rhodes. They were all already so exhausted and beat to shit, and they hadn’t even started the wet work yet. The gritty part of this mission. Lord help them.

“I know, Rhodes.” Sam groaned out, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Bucky’s bed. It was surprisingly soft and cool to the touch, and it felt refreshing on his heated skin. He could fall asleep if he allowed himself. Shit, when was the last time he’d really slept? Like actually gotten a full eight hours? He couldn’t remember. Was it before the GRC meeting? Or before the great Bucky warehouse explosion-

Something warm rested on the nape of his neck and Sam happened a quick glance up, meeting Bucky’s concerned gaze as the other man looked down at him. It was his left hand, yet Sam would have barely been able to tell the difference if he hadn’t known any better. It was warm and smooth on his skin, the rolling motions of the Vibranium loosening tension from his triceps.

Rhodey watched the transaction with bemused eyes, bottom lip jutting out in vindication. Sam glowered back. Bucky, per usual, or maybe it was the concussion, was ignorant to the exchange. He continued to knead at Sam’s shoulders, looking down at him through lowered, heavy lashes. Sam sighed. Maybe they could just sit here for a while.

Rhodey on the other hand seemed to have other ideas. Mainly being a bane to Sam’s existence and peace. He cleared out his throat, the annoying asshole, and moved to pick up the abandoned binders and folders. He waved them indigently in the air, the paper crinkling and flapping at the abuse. Bucky frowned at the sound, his hand slowly sliding away from Sam’s neck.

“We really need to stay on top of the topic at hand, Sam.” He said seriously. “Because I don’t think we have much time between hits, considering Barnes debugged my house less than sixteen hours ago and now my personal property is being blown to shit.” He flapped through the papers, pointing at highlighted chunks. Sam raised his brows.

“Why all the paper, Rhodes?” He asked, taking the folder in question and quickly scanning it over. Sharons name was yet to make an appearance on any of the intel, but there were other names that piqued his interest. A few senators he’d just had meetings with less than three days ago. Just before-

He cut his eyes towards Rhodey. “Why is Councilmen Dex on these files, Rhodes?” Rhodey gave him a shrug. “You tell me, Sam.” He said. “Torres tracked his meddling all the way back to that warehouse that Barnes so graciously destroyed. He seems to have taken quite the interest in your stance against alien technology being used in government contracts.” Sam frowned. He could feel his blood pressure slowly beginning to rise.

He hadn’t even gotten political back in his meeting with the GRC. He’d originally set the meeting to ensure that progress was being made regarding the GRC camps, using his presence to make sure the push for medical and food supplies was going to its intended locations. Last thing the world needed was another Karli-

He cut his mind from that train of thought.

When he had then been broached on the topic of advanced weaponry, in specifics alien weaponry from previous Avengers battles, he’d made it known he was against the use in government contracts and facilities. He had even gone as far as using Tony Stark as a prime example, stating how Stark had ceased his continuation of pumping out weapons of mass destruction when he’d discovered they were falling into the wrong hands. And with the utmost respect to Stark, the earth had barely been able to handle the potential disaster of stolen Stark Industries technology in the hands of terrorists. How could they possibly predict the outcome of a world in turmoil with alien enhanced technology when they were still struggling to handle the return of over half the planet? When people were in more disarray than ever before, with borders being blurred and radical groups popping off at every turn.

Guess certain members of the Council had taken his sentiments personally, he mused. Didn’t make sense why there wanting him killed, though. In Sam’s opinion, it seemed a little unnecessary. He could be biased, considering he didn’t have a death wish. But he wasn’t the best at this spy, subterfuge bullshit. This was more Bucky’s pace of things. Maybe he was missing something. Sam frowned.

Shit.

He was probably missing something.

Rhodey handed him another form. He pointed to the bottom with a huff. “Check that out, Brother. Those crates were filled with alien tech from the Battle Of Thanos. Nothing of great substance, considering we destroyed most of what remained afterwards. But look at where they were heading.” He quirked a brow. “Seems like that place is popping up every which way we turn.” Sam looked to the very bottom, frowning.

Madripoor.

Oh. Good. Everything was pointing back to that lovely specimen of an island. Great. Sam groaned. “Why does it have to be Madripoor?” he whined.

Bucky gathered the folders in his lap, his eyes drinking in the information so quickly that Sam was getting secondhand dizziness trying to follow his line of sight. Jesus Christ, how did the man read so damn fast? Was that a perk to the serum, too? Superhuman reading?

Good God.

Bucky glanced up from the papers, eyes peering at Sam with rapt attention. Sam could feel goosebumps erupt along his arms at the intense contact. Bucky was biting his lip, which meant that he saw something.

And that meant, if he saw something, that they were in for a load of shit. Sam heaved a sigh. “What is it, Buck?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “These files, none of it makes much sense. Everything seems to be all over the place as far as this operation goes. So either they are some criminal masterminds who is using various tactics and targets to offset their scent, or something has changed on their end that has moved their timetable up.” Sam frowned, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry Buck, I don’t follow.”
Bucky looked to Rhodes, who also shrugged. “I just know I’m tired of my shit getting blown up.” Rhodes pipped in.

Bucky glanced back down at the file; concern etched into his face. “It’s just weird, is all. Sharon’s good. I just don’t understand what she’s playing at. The people being trafficked to Madripoor is one thing. But targeting Sam for his interjection in a meeting on alien technology? Why would she or members of the GRC even care? I think they’d rather have you tangled up in THAT then you stumble across a plot to recreate the Super Soldier serum.” Bucky rubbed at his forehead, the lighting casting dark, ominous shadows across his features. “I don’t know. It’s odd. Something isn’t adding up.”
Rhodey continued to tap his lighter, his own frown deepening. “Yeah. I mean, being annoyed at Sam is one thing. I mean, look at him. He’s the most obnoxious do gooder there is.” Sam scoffed, Rhodey continued. “But wanting to off him for being against the illegal weapons isn’t sitting right.”

Sam sighed. “Thanks, Rhodes. Love the kind words.”

Rhodey gave a solemn nod. “Anytime, brother.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Rhodes suddenly sat up. “Shit. Hold on.”

Sam leaned forward, his heart starting to pound. “Christ, Rhodes. What?”

Rhodey looked between Sam and Bucky, the wheel in his head seeming to slowly turn. Sam swore he could practically see it swiveling faster and faster. He wouldn’t have been surprised if suddenly smoke started billowing out of Rhodey’s ears.

“Fuck sakes, Rhodes. What?” Bucky snapped out.

“I think it’s you two.” Rhodey said simply, pointing between the two of them. Sam blinked. “What?”

Rhodey nodded, quickly standing up and beginning to pace. Sam blinked again. Was he missing something? What could Rhodey mean, that it was the two of them? What had Bucky and Sam done to the GRC, to Sharon? How did they tie into this?

Rhodes continued to tap the lighter up and down, the tinking of metallic coming faster and faster as he seemed to plunge deeper into thought. “It’s something to do with the two of you.” He said.

“Barnes being sent to that warehouse full of alien weapons? Odd, sure. We know now it was a HYDRA front, but why did Carter send Barnes? You’d think she wouldn’t want him anywhere close to a HYDRA operation, given you know,” Rhodey made a hand motion. “The torture and all. If I was her, I’d keep someone like him as far as possible from my seedy operations. But she sent you there.” Rhodey rubbed his chin. “Why did she send you there…”

Bucky gave an annoyed huff, running his fingers through his wild locks. “She was trying to kill me, I suppose. Had a death squad waiting for me.”

Rhodey paused, a strange look crossing his face. Sam felt his stomach drop to his knees. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the way Rhodey was currently looking at Bucky made him feel…not great.

“Are you sure they were a kill squad, Barnes?” Rhodey asked quietly.

Bucky seemed to pale. “The fuck do you mean?” He vehemently hissed out.

Scratch that. Definitely not great.

“Hold on, what are you getting at, Rhodes?” Sam reached forward, placing a grounding hand on Bucky’s shoulder. For who, he wasn’t entirely sure. Everything was startling to feel prickly and too close.

“What I’m getting at, is that I think you two are the keys to this. Specifically, him.” Rhodey nodded to Bucky. “I don’t think he was sent there on a whim. I think it was planned.” Rhodey looked at Sam, a troubled look in his eye.

“I think he was sent there, and that they were waiting. And I think they were there to subdue him.” Rhodey looked over at Bucky, who Sam could feel was beginning to vibrate underneath his hand. “And I think you prodding around at the GRC the same day and making the huff you did, well it made them nervous. You two are as thick as thieves, everyone knows that. I’m betting my bottom dollar that they gave you both a lot more credit intelligence wise than you deserve and assumed you were working the case together. You raised hackles, so they struck.” Rhodey took his head into his hands and gave a lengthy sigh. “Then when shit didn’t go as planned and Barnes walked out of that warehouse building, I think they were watching. That’s how my house got bugged. They snuck in when I got the call from you, Sam.”

Sam could feel his own gears turning, struggling to make sense of the words Rhodey was saying. They felt like they were wrapped in bubblegum, sticking and stretching and not quite turning how they should. It all still didn’t make sense.

“But why Bucky? What’s he got to do with this?” Sam asked, reaching his hand down to take Bucky’s hand. Bucky grasped back firmly, his face blank and emotionless. Only Sam could see it in the crinkle of his eye, how his lips were slightly pressed too tight for casual, and how he was whiter than a ghost. There were the beginnings of a thin sheen of sweat building up at his hair line, his chest rising and falling just a little quicker than normal. Bucky was terrified.

“Because, obviously by their numbers, the recreation of the serum doesn’t seem to be going to so well for them.” Bucky said, his voice hollow and detached. “Not many super soldiers running around to snag a sample. Steve’s fucked off to the past and no one can get to Isiah Bradley now thanks to the new museum exhibit without the whole world going up in arms. No one knows about Walker, so guess who that leaves you with?” Bucky’s hand was trembling in Sam’s. “No one is going to miss the ex-assassin. No one will notice. Or care.”

Sam could feel that emotion bubbling again, deep within his chest. Anger was definitely there. Anger that Bucky, good, sweet, always looking out for others Bucky, saw himself in such a cruel light.

Anger that others vindicated those untrue thoughts and emotions, that they were so blinded by fear and ignorance that they just spat out slurs and insolent rants. That people, even now, after all Bucky had done for his country, for the God Damn world, were still treating him like trash. Like he was disposable. Like he was nothing.

And there was that other emotion too, tugging firmly at his heartstrings. The urge to protect Bucky from those trying to harm him, to protect him and nurture him and to ensure that no matter what, everything was going to be okay. Because Bucky had always been the protector for everyone else throughout history, and God damnit, Sam was going to protect him. No one was going to lay a hand on him, not if the breath was still rising and falling out of Sam’s chest.

“Buck, you listen to me right now.” Sam said lowly, lowering his head to catch Bucky’s gaze. The other man’s eyes had gone blank and distant, shimmering lightly with unshed tears. Sam reached forward, grasping Bucky’s chin delicately to turn him. “You are James Bucky Barnes, and you are loved and cherished by many. You aren’t someone that can just disappear, to just fade away into the night and no one notices. I would notice. Sarah and the boys would notice. Rhodey over there would notice. Do you know why? Because we care. Because-“Sam took in a wavering breath, hating the blank mask looking back at him. “Because we love you, Buck. I love you. And I’ll be damned if anyone, and I mean ANYONE tries to take you from me.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand tightly. “No one is taking you from us, Buck. We won’t let them. I won’t let them.”

Sam felt his heart shatter as the facade slowly broke over Bucky’s face, his eyes wrinkling and his nose scrunching up as tears began to fall. Bucky never made a sound, his eyes squeezed tightly closed as the silent sobs wracked his body. Rhodey rose from his chair and stood beside them, his hand coming to rest cautiously on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky reached out desperately, placing a hand on top of theirs, holding them to his shoulders.

“He’s right, Barnes.” Rhodey said quietly. “You aren’t disappearing on our watch.” He gave Bucky’s shoulder a little shake. “You still owe me a new car, anyways.”

Bucky let out a wet laugh. “I don’t owe you shit, Rhodes.”

“Brand new. All black, even the tires and rims.”

“Absolutely not.”

Rhodey lightly scoffed. “Don’t act like you can’t afford it. That seventy years backpay must be awful nice.”

Bucky gave Rhodey a smirk, wiping the tears from his face. “Sure is. For me.”

“Oh, that’s cold Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes glinted, the light slowly returning to them. “You know that’s right.” Rhodey guffawed, taking back his hand as he pointed to Sam. “Do you hear that shit? He said my line, Wilson.”

Sam shook his head. “I sure did.” He stood up, grunting as his knees protested. God, he was really getting too old for this shit. He walked to the window that overlooked the city, his eyes catching the GRC building in the distance. It was shimmering in the fading sun’s rays, the glimmering of the Potomac reflecting in the background. He frowned. Rhodey and Bucky were right. They needed to hit this head on. Now. Before the GRC could strike again.

They needed a plan. And luckily for them, Sam already had one.

Sort of.

Not really. He’d flesh it out as he went.

“Alright gentleman.” Sam swiveled around. “How does everyone feel about a quick little trip to Madripoor?”