No More Second Chances

“BUCKY!”

Sam screamed as Bucky - no, The Winter Soldier - emerged from the shadows to slam against Steve’s shield. Clashing vibranium induced sparks, emanating nearly visible sound waves from the force of impact. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

Sam’s legs quaked as he struggled to stand again, strain radiating throughout his body made him see white and grind his teeth. He had no choice but to haphazardly drop himself quickly onto the glass, as there was no support in a reachable distance at the bottom of the helicarrier. Honestly, he could really only do one thing at this point, which was cover Steve’s six. Although, there weren't any threats except for the rampaging bull in the room, as Sam already took out the soldiers that boarded already. He still scanned the room just in case. Unfortunately in the distance, out of the curved glass behind him another wave of soldiers helped their wounded and appeared to be preparing another wave of attack. 

“Great! Don’t worry he said, don’t worry at all !”

It was utterly stupid the situation they found themselves in. Sam knew it would go wrong, a nagging gut instinct that followed him since the moment Bucky uttered 'don't worry sweetheart' . Ugh. The smug asshole just had to throw Sam off with the endearment once again. He hissed at the throbbing pain preventing him from helping Captain America. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the Soldier noticed him through all the clanging and yelling of Steve’s poor attempts to jar Bucky out of a very dangerous trance. Sam focused on trying to bandage himself with the whole lot of nothing he had on hand. He practically ripped open his left vest pocket for a concerningly thin wrap, glancing at their fight on the bridge every other second. 

“Damn those baby blues, convincing me to do the craziest - OW - shit” he gained momentum in methodically taping closed the gaping gunshot wound in his left thigh. “I’m a poor veteran, please help me and my pretty muscles-'' Sam imitated pointlessly, witnessing Steve backing further and further away from the goal, and Bucky’s dirty, matted hair persistently sticking in every direction as he continued his barrage. “Damn those baby blues.” Sam cursed the handsome face that got him into this mess, gritting his teeth, and tugging hard at the tape, hoping that it would last until the fight could be over. A low thrum suddenly reverberated throughout the floor from towards the front of the aircraft where bluish flames ignited from the starting engine.

“Shit !”

Above, the roof whirred open slowly, exposing the hangar to the night sky. The soldiers that were rushing toward the aircraft abandoned their plan, content with shooting the glass where Sam rested with no success. Sam knew they needed to get the last chip inside this stupid, overpriced helicopter immediately, but thanks to the asshole with the AK that caused his right wing to spin into a thankfully static engine thus forcing him to rip it in half, and another asshole who shot his leg mid-flight inside, the only thing Sam could do was shoot the Winter Soldier; which wasn’t an option-

Wait a damn minute. 

Sure he was grounded, the helicarrier was rocking side to side unsteadily, yet he knew he could make it work. Sam unleashed his left wing, slamming it against the glass, while he used his right leg for support. There was a ladder roughly 20 feet in front of him that’d lead to the opposite bridge of where Steve and the Winter Soldier are fighting. Pain spread throughout his abdomen, more sustainable than trying to actually use his left leg. Sam hobbled, step by wing, as quickly as he could, continuing to glance every so often he heard Steve yell something along the lines of “Bucky! Snap out of it!"

The ladder is right there, just a few more feet, just a few more feet Wilson. 

The urgency to complete the mission competed with the urge to snap Bucky out of his trance. However, on the off-chance Bucky would actually attack Sam, Sam wouldn’t be able to defend himself. There was a very real chance Bucky could kill hi-

Sam shook away the haunting image of Bucky's metal hand crushing his throat.

The helicarriers were almost out of the hangar. Sam peered through the glass at his feet, the distance between the concrete increasing imminently every second. By the time Sam could shamble up to where he needed to, it might be too late. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears prickling as he thought of his sister and baby nephews.

“Goddammit. I’m sorry Sarah.” 

He could feel her smacking him upside the head with a rolled up magazine, chastising his knack for getting into trouble with disastrous white boys. Already closer to the section of the bridge the two were battling on, Sam un-holstered one of his pistols, aiming nowhere in particular. 

One, two, three shots. 

“HEY ASSHOLE!”

Steve had raised his shield against Bucky’s metal arm, shrieking, “Sam what are you doing !?” Sam ignored him, knowing Captain America is smart enough to catch onto his plan fairly quickly. He pointed his gun at Bucky. “Bring it Terminator!” More bullets deflected off the metal grates near their feet. 

The Winter Soldier stood still for a moment as if calibrating, before leaping over the railing with unusual grace. Sam didn’t tear his eyes away from the blank stare as the thumping of heavy boots brought the menace closer and closer. 

Just gotta keep him distracted long enough.

Sam braced himself mentally, raising his pistol again in mock self defense. “Come on then.” The Soldier stormed quicker at the immediate threat. Sam spun his mangled left wing to deflect the charge, causing both of them to lose their balance, nonetheless the Soldier regained stability quicker than Sam expected him to. Shooting at his feet, the Soldier practically danced out of the way with ease. Sam emptied his clip regardless, understanding what he was sealing his fate to.

How could he bring himself to shoot the ghost before him? Even with the retellings of the horrors that Bucky experienced, of the people he’d hurt and killed, Sam couldn’t bother to save any bullets to protect himself. All that was running through his mind as the man he knew for only a week and three days stomped closer and closer, was a reflection of the man who gently cradled his cheek not even 24 hours ago. A night and day difference that made Sam falter. 

How could they lose him? 

How could I lose him?

The Soldier roughly yanked Sam’s vest closer while raising his metal one for a swift end, when Sam lifted his left wing off the floor to envelope the two, forcing them chest to chest. Collapsing to the floor from the loss of balance, Sam nearly blacked out from the sudden weight on his wound. The Soldier writhed, trying to escape the strong hold, and the pain practically electrocuted his entire body, but Sam bit the inside of his cheek and held on with a vice grip, yelling in Bucky’s ear. 

“Bucky!”

“Bucky! Plea-Oomf!” 

A punch landed on Sam’s rib. The Soldier couldn’t gain lethal momentum from their position. 

“Man remember! AGH!” 

His wound got kneed, swallowing a wave of nausea that threatened to announce itself. “Steve! Natasha! Sam! I’m Sam!” He took a risk to grab Bucky’s face with both his hands, forcing eye contact and tightening his wing as best he could. He briefly pondered the likelihood this would work. Since the last time he saw Bucky, the man left with a vague allude to a painful method to protect his hearing. Clearly, Hydra somehow got through without Bucky hearing them, or maybe they removed whatever listening prevention he used. Either way, Sam was assuredly a fool for hoping that screaming in his face would shock Bucky out of his reverie. It had to, as the pain in his ribs was getting worse and worse with each hit. There was only so much a regular person could take from a super-soldier.

“It’s Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!” 

The Winter Soldier’s punches slowed to a stop as he kept crying his own name. Sam kept his watering eyes trained on Bucky’s, as difficult as it was because suddenly they were becoming heavier and heavier. Suddenly, there was a spark of recognition behind those empty eyes. 

“C’mon man, it’s Sam…” 

Please, please-

“Sam.” 

Sam laughed in triumph, leaning his head against the glass in relief and hugging Bucky's head to his chest. "Oh thank fuck!" 

While Bucky didn’t look himself per se, if he said Sam's name, they’re fine. They have to be. A click, shift in gears and rumble incited Sam to look to where the port was. Steve glanced over his shoulder, and Sam choked back a sob. They weren’t high enough to cause much damage to the surrounding area except the SHIELD compound, although if they didn’t move soon they’d all get trapped under several thousand tons of metal. Sam retracted his wing from around them, smoothing Bucky's tacky hair.  

“Okay Bucky you can move now.” Sam sighed in relief from the lack of pressure on his leg. He was expecting Bucky to offer a hand to help him, or worry about his leg, or just sit back and cradle his own smoothie brain for a few minutes. Instead, Bucky stood to attention, stiff as a board. 

“Sam.” 

His tone was the same. The exact same. Sam made a half aborted move to get up, unable to move much, positioning his forearm parallel to the floor. He looked up at Bucky, confused at his bizarre behavior. 

“Yes?” Bucky looked dead into Sam’s eyes, unblinking, still blank, strangely enough. 

“Ready to comply.”

A chill ran down Sam’s spine, and the bile from earlier happily crept to the back of his throat. “What the fuck ?!” 

A rattle throughout the helicarrier indicated they were on a clock. One Sam wasn’t particularly keen on tracking at the moment. Steve leapt over the railing with urgency, slowly stalking his way over, holding both his hands up placatingly as if he could sense something was wrong. 

“Bucky?” 

Bucky whipped his neck 90 degrees so fast Sam half expected it to snap. His body language shifted immediately to a ‘fight’ mode again the moment his eyes laid on Steve. The Soldier charged Steve, as he stood there in shock, unable to close his mouth or get his shield up  in time. 

Sam panicked. “Wait! Stop!”

The Soldier halted mid-step. Steve didn't move for a few more moments before trying again, daring to wave a hand in front of his old friends' face. “Bucky?”  The Soldier didn’t respond, eyes trained on the target in front him. That’s all Steve was to him. Sam gulped, knowing what he needed to do and feeling every bit of shame, regret and disgust pump through his veins. 

Steve peered over Bucky’s shoulder, “Sam how-”

“I order you to stand down. Do not attack Steve Rogers.” 

Steve gaped at the mortifying sequence in front of him. Sam glanced at Steve, trying to communicate with his eyes that he was feeling the exact same. 

The Soldier relaxed, bringing his feet side by side to maintain attention. Steve trailed Bucky’s stoicism as he side-stepped to help Sam. He patted Sam for any additional injuries, quickly retracting his searching hands when Sam wheezed at the pressure on his ribs. With another round of bandages from the back pocket of his tacticals, Steve made quick work to wrap Sam’s torso, and rewrap his leg. They were both quiet, Sam witnessing Steve’s jaw work nearly to the point of dislocation as he did one final tug at the wraps.

“You okay?” Steve met Sam's eyes, finally. Maybe the man wouldn’t resent Sam for the method of saving his life, but honestly, Sam would if their roles were reversed. 

“Yeah-” Steve didn’t let him finish as he maneuvered an arm behind his back, hauling him on his feet. Sam groaned in displeasure, Steve sharing a look of sympathy. 

“Okay, okay. Thanks.” Sam exhaled sharply, before observing the robot he left in stasis. “Fuck, what do we do?” 

Steve looked between the two, first at Bucky, then at Sam, before nodding to himself cryptically.

“Order him to carry you out of here-”

“What-”

“-He listens to you, we can’t lose him.” Even though any emotion from the earlier shock was clearly long gone, Steve appeared to fight every word out of his mouth. “Hurry Sam-”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, praying all this would be a nightmare he awoke from soon. “Bu-Asset. Get me out of here safely.” 

The Soldier turned, jumping into action by roughly removing him from Steve’s arms, sweeping him into bridal style. Stunned at the movement, he reached around Bucky’s neck, utterly embarrassed and contrite. Steve looked about as rueful as he could have in the situation, nodding a temporary goodbye at Sam before running to the opposite ladder. The Soldier opted to jump back onto the bridge instead of using a ladder, which required momentum from sprinting. He protested the entire time to no avail, squealing as the Soldier's boots landed steadily on the metal. He swore he heard Steve giggle from the other side of the room. 

Sam felt green in the face, letting out a small groan as the jostling somehow became worse with the rapidly tipping aircraft and the Soldier’s interesting maneuvers down the hallway towards the exit. While his grip under Sam’s knees and his back were secure, which if under any other situation would make Sam blush , the Soldier leapt over railings, kicked down doors, and body slammed any moving crates with his back. He acted like a human battering ram, eyes clearly searching for the safest escape route possible in such a tumultuous environment. Alarms were blaring at this point, and from glimpses caught through sparse windows, the ground would be arriving shortly. But all Sam could do was watch Bucky the entire time. Sparks flew behind the Soldier’s head as he ran down a corridor, and Sam worriedly prayed Bucky could be returned to him. He wanted to be held like this again, but preferably not in the most fucked up way possible. 

Safety wasn’t a question in Sam’s head amid the chaos of the collapsing aircraft. He just tucked his head into his saviors’ neck, holding on as tight as he could, whispering words of care against the Soldier's skin hoping it’d reach Bucky. 

When Sam finally came to, he hadn’t even realized he blacked out. Maybe it was for the best, he wouldn’t have had to continue dealing with the searing pain in his leg as Bucky saved them from certain death. The robot in mind was glaring at him upside down when he finally finished masticating his dry mouth, remembering the most important parts before his much needed rest.

He groaned, bringing a heavy hand over his eyes. “Where are we?” Of course it came out hoarse, he sounded as if he swallowed a bag of gravel, and felt like it too. 

“Five miles from the crash site, north of the Pantheon wing. Permission to report.” 

Sam sighed again depressingly. If- no when they got Bucky back, would he ever speak to him again after this? Would he question Sam's intentions? Could he ever trust Sam again? Would they ever continue what they started before? Did they even start something? At the house, in the car, before he left to SHIELD, there was something brewing, right? He was getting off track. Maybe granting Bucky a punch-pass would help. It'd certainly make Sam feel infinitely better about the whole situation. “I hate myself." He sighed again. Nothing else to do. " Yeah, yeah go ahead.”

“No other bodily harm was sustained. Medical attention is urgently needed for Sam.” 

Sam lethargically positioned his arm to the ground, trying to hoist himself into a sitting position through the searing pain and aches. 

“Stop. Stop. Sam needs medical attention.” The Soldier didn’t shove him back onto the concrete, but he kept firm hands on Sam’s shoulders to prevent him from moving any further. He groaned in submission, sighing against the cold ground. 

“Even as a robot you’re awfully insistent on mother-henning me, huh.” No response, not that he was expecting any. Bucky’s flesh hand emitted cold, a complete contrast to the furnace like temperature that persisted on his cheek long after Bucky removed his hand. Unsettling, to say the least. Sam swallowed his hesitation. “Asset, we need to find Steve Rogers and Nick Fury-”

“Permission to report.”

Sam grit his teeth in annoyance, mentally refusing to show it. He knew from the experiences told by the man before him, whenever his handlers would get irritated, they never hesitated to further traumatize Bucky. Sam was officially going to incinerate Hydra down to every last molecule after this shit. “Go ahead.”

“Sam is critically injured. Sam requires medical attention.” 

He couldn’t help but soften at that. “Look I know, Steve and Nick can help. They will treat me. They will fix me. You can trust them. ”

The Soldier seemed hesitant for a brief moment before the emotion vanished with another manhandle into his arms. Through the pain, Sam let out a small smile. Yeah, he was in there somewhere for sure.

Sam dozed off again. He couldn’t help it. Despite his freezing temperature, the secureness of his hold practically rocked Sam to sleep. Next thing he knew, familiar overlapping voices lulled him further into his nap. Honestly, at this point Sam couldn’t recall what had happened next. Between the blood loss, exhaustion and emotional grief pretty much guaranteed a loopy Falcon. 

Melodic whirring of an engine, and the occasional low clinking of belt buckles indicated he was on the quinjet before he opened his eyes. He was laid across the center cot  they unfolded for injured teammates, tight bandages chafing his already dried skin. They were probably on route to a safehouse or hospital or something. But there was something, somewhere more important they should be headed to. Sam laid still for a little while longer, patiently biding his time until most of his sleep fog was gone and his awareness returned. 

“Steve.”

“Hey buddy. Good to see you back with us.” 

Sam finally opened his eyes. Steve looked pretty much worse for wear. Torn up Captain suit, dust and sand painted him almost the entire same beige color. He could blend into a beach if he wanted to. “Yeah. How are you?” 

Steve smiled fondly. “Better, thank you. Everyone else is too.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. Steve’s face soured. “Well, he’s still-”

“Figured. Help me up.” Despite Steve’s clear reluctance, he did anyway, providing Sam back support as he slowly adjusted into a comfortable seated position, or as comfortable as he could get considering his injuries. The first thing that caught his eye is the Soldier’s indomitable glare at Steve, which made Sam want to laugh and cry at the same time. The Soldier’s gaze shifted to Sam, clearly assessing him. 

Sam couldn’t help but greet him. “Hey.” 

“Ready to comply.”

Sam winced. “Ugh. Dammit. Steve, this makes me wanna hurl.” He simply patted Sam’s back reassuringly. “Was the mission a success?” 

Steve helped Sam shift a little in the cot, before searching for some pillows in the compartment above. “Yeah. No civilian casualties, and minimal property damage contained to the SHIELD compound. Nat released all the documents online to take down SHIELD, and we managed to turn in Pierce. We haven’t checked back into the news. We dropped Fury off to reconvene with Hill and deal with the fallout and now we're headed to a safehouse in Ottawa.” Finding some fluffy ones, he stacked them for Sam to lean against. 

“Steve, I know where we need to go.” Sam worried his lip, unsure of how exactly he’ll explain this whole situation to Natasha and Steve without them thinking he’s got a lasting concussion. 

“What-”

“Can you call Natasha over?” Steve furrowed his brow into a scowl at the interruption, nodding before heading to the cockpit to retrieve her. Sam thanked him internally for not questioning further, just trusting him. Looking at Bucky again, his gaze remained fixed on Sam. It wouldn’t do any good, and it was definitely, logically better to limit the orders he gave Bucky while he was in this fugue state. But he just looked… sad …or at least there was a trace of sadness Sam felt like was seeing. Or maybe he's projecting onto the blank canvas before him. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t stop him though. 

“Come here?” It came out more as a question. The Soldier complied anyways. He swiftly and silently stationed himself next to Sam’s makeshift bed, unrelenting in his gaze. Sam swallowed thickly. 

“You can sit next to me?” Dutifully, the Soldier circled the cot onto the other-side, seated right next to Sam’s face like an overcompensating sentry. Maybe he looked a little less sad now, or maybe Sam is still projecting. “God what a fucking mess.” 

“Pouty much?” appearing out of nowhere, Natasha poked Sam’s leg, applying a breadth of pressure. She looked relatively unscathed, her suit disguise clean, practically unwrinkled. Steve followed behind her, giving her an admonishing look that she ignored. “Had us worried for a moment there.” She also adorned a mask of indifference, at least conveying more emotion than the other assassin next to him. 

“Pouty goes to Terminator here.” She didn’t show it, but Sam could tell she was amused. Steve's reprimanding expression that shifted to him. “I’m good, thanks.” Sam exhaled sharply, fiddling with the cotton he laid on. 

“Sam, what is it?” Steve wasn’t letting him procrastinate any longer apparently. He settled on the Soldier, unable to tear his gaze away from the empty gray eyes that once belonged to Bucky. 

“We can’t go to Ottawa. We need to go to Wakanda.”