Beast Of Burden
"Sam, Sam! Sammy please, no no no-"
Bucky, Bucky wake up!
“Sam…Sam?”
Come on, what did you do?!
“Sam? I…there was a gun...I think…I-I saved you?”
Please….not yet….we’re not done yet!
“What do you mean…Sam?”
Bucky…BUCKY!
“Don’t leave…no…Sam…SAM!”
His eyes shot open as his lungs suffocated him. Steve stood above, pressing a concerned hand further into his shoulder to ground him.
“Bucky…are you good? You kept shaking and muttering in your sleep.”
He brought both hands to his face and hunched forward, knocking his head into Steve’s stomach.
“I-I’m good. Sorry.”
Steve sighed, patting his likely disheveled hair down. Moving to sit beside him, Steve shifted some hangar seat belts out of the way. Despite the subtle rattling of the cargo plane, the metal was louder than anything else.
Bucky prepared himself for another Captain lecture, but Steve simply patted his shoulder again, keeping a dead eye on Sam’s passive face across from them.
“He’ll be alright, okay? Tony will help. We’ll find them.”
“Yeah…yeah.”
Tony Stark, the last person on earth he wanted to see, turns out to be the only person that could help them at this point. Shield was dismantled, with barely any intelligence equipment in New York, and he was the only rich person with superhero and super-activity detection hotwired all over the city. The guilt of knowing how Stark reacted the first time to the truth of his parents, knowing how just his presence could hurt the future of the Avengers, and having to still keep it a vaulted secret in order to enlist Starks’ guidance to find the wizards who can help Sam weighed oppressively on his conscious. And it probably won't amount to anything, because Doctor Strange doesn't join the Avengers until a few years from now, and with Sam's life threatening coma and no real answers that could be provided by Shuri's exams, they were running out of time. Sam's collapse was inexplicable, with no physiological cause, which absolutely must have something to do with the time travel thing based on his erratic behavior according to Steve and Nat, which then made it his fault for his coma…honestly at this point Bucky was a thread away from his mind fracturing again.
It didn't help that Shuri's anger echoed in his mind, her screams practically mirroring Sam's when he got shot, and constantly ringing in his ears since they left Wakanda.
She wouldn’t stop yelling at him the whole time she examined Sam and swiftly reattached his Hydra arm.
“You fool, I told you to wait!”
“I wasn’t done yet! What did you do?!”
Thinking of Shuri reminded him of the terrifying, simmering fury of T’Challa at his stubborn secrecy. As much as he wanted to tell them everything, he just knew he couldn't risk whatever was happening to Sam affecting anyone else. T'Challa kept close behind them as they packed everything to leave, passively threatening them with subtle phrases like "Sergeant Barnes, you owe us an explanation" And "There were conditions to this visit if i may gently remind you."
Bucky couldn't help but snap at that, warning the same thing might happen to them if he gave them what they wanted. T'Challa abruptly closed off his expression, tilting his head like a predator making a final decision to hunt prey. Yet he never pounced, simply turning his heels and ordering the Dora Milaje to see them off immedietly. At this point,Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he was an enemy of their state… again .
Remembering the prince and princess' glare only made him want to beg and plead for their forgiveness. Of course he wanted to tell them the truth he wanted to shout it to the whole world at the top of his lungs what he knew.
He wanted to cry to Shuri to find cure for T’Challa, beg King T’Chaka to avoid the assemblies and warn Queen Ramona of the country's future.
He wanted to save the Avengers from themselves, from Thanos, beg Steve not to leave and keep Nat locked up in a box to protect her.
He wanted to tell them everything. And most of all, he wanted to confess to Sam the same. Explain everything, be honest and upfront about the future, about how he knew everything about him, about how much he missed Sam during their week together, about how unafraid he was of being left behind, about his trust and his feelings of past and future Sam.
He wanted to confess it all, but now, would he ever get the chance to? Should he even have step-foot on Sam’s home in DC? Could there be any way to save the future? Was it really his fault? What could he have done to stop it? Can Steve, Nat and even himself succumb to the same mania?
Or, could the consequences of his actions get somehow worse?
“Hey.”
Bucky shook, almost as if he had awoken a second time. Steve's worry became more apparent. “You were spiraling. Relax. Nothing bad has happened yet.”
Nearly scoffing- ‘nothing bad’ was currently lying unconscious in front of him, covered in blankets to keep Sam’s body temperature up as for some reason it went from concerningly hot to frigid in less than an hour- he could only muster a sad and barely audible exhale.
“Steve…I just shouldn’t have shown my face. I knew-”
“No, Buck, it’s not-”
“Yes! Yes it is!” Bucky leaned back sharply, internally daring Steve to say some nice bullshit. “It absolutely fucking is my fault! I’m the one with the memories, the secrets, and I fucked things up, for the millionth time at least !” He was trying and failing to hide the tears, and at Steve’s loss for words, he choked, resting his head helplessly in his palms.
They sat in silence as the cargo plane shuttered. Bucky barely tracked the time, too focused on the body in front of him and overwhelmed by the ringing in his ears. The feeling of an unresponsive Sam in his arms plagued his skin in waves of numbness to vivid presence. Until without warning, their pilot announced they had landed.
Once again, struck out of his reverie, he looked to his right where Steve was just a minute ago, finding him missing. Bucky lethargically looked around, only for him to be securing Sam to the stretcher to be transported.
His stern stoicism told him everything.
"Get it together, soldier."
And he supposed, at that moment, Captain America gave him his orders.
Multiple robots greeted them on the landing platform as they stepped out of the hanger. The ugly Stark logo stood out like a sore thumb, catching part of Bucky's attention while he and Steve hauled Sam on the stretcher into the building. Stark was waiting inside, poking for answers the entire time he led them to the medical bay. If anyone could multitask, it was Stark, as he didn’t relent on his questions while inspecting Sam. Eventually, some nurses he’d somehow called in came to finish inserting IV lines, layer blankets for heat, prepare further medical tests and care. All the while, Sam didn’t move an inch.
“So Cap, you’re really going to send me on this wild goose chase, with zero context of what happened, where you all came from, to search for some potential superhero’s who could fix the new recruit.” He tapped his pen irritatingly on Steve’s shoulder while eyeing Bucky's metal arm.
Steve didn’t entertain Tony, simply nodding. “Yes.”
Appearing put off by the simplicity of Steve’s reply, Tony paused his tapping. Bucky supposed he’d feel the same if Steve showed up on his doorstep like this. “I don't like this Cap. You're being weird.”
“I know. I know I’m asking for a lot, but please Tony. For Sam.” With those desperate puppy dog eyes, Bucky knew Tony couldn't say no.
He sighed, tapping the pen against his chin, before nodding in Bucky's direction. “Under one condition.”
If there was any scientific poking and prodding worth suffering through, it was research done for Sam. While the nurses and Steve continued to monitor his condition, Tony began leading him down the hall into another room. This one simply had two regular office looking chairs, a desk with a computer and some drawers along with cabinets lining the wall above.
“Sit.”
Bucky nodded, occupying the chair adjacent to the desk. Tony reached above, opening the left most cabinet doors to pull out a canvas toolkit. Bucky gulped, nervous. The room was simple and cozy despite the minimal furniture, but something about it was less comforting than Shuri’s lab. Maybe because he killed the parents of the man before him.
Maybe because he’s the root cause of the Avengers breaking apart.
Maybe because, without their falling out, Thanos could have been defeated sooner.
“Hello? Earth to Barnes? You’re ruining my flow with your whole…brooding thing. Cap mentioned you do that.” Tony went back to inspecting his now open canvas toolkit. The equipment inside looked…strange. Not like the scalpels or needles he expected. He swallowed thickly regardless.
“Okay I decided, I’m only going to look at the wiring okay? Pinky promise, no funny business. I was told you’d be a little sensitive about experimentation or whatever so I went ahead and dug out my child friendly toolkit. Just for you, little man.” Tony quirked up a barely noticeable smile at his jester, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to sprint out of the room. He never had any real alone time with the man, but he’d forgotten how much the guy liked to ramble and poke in ways outside of technology. It was annoying, and added to the ever growing question what exactly Steve saw in having a friendship with Tony.
Biting back a snark reply, he raised his metal arm onto the table. Tony pulled a slightly bulky tool out of the kit, with a head that appeared to be some sort of scanner. Posing it over Bucky’s bicep, the genius clearly couldn’t help but quip “Okay, ready? Close your eyes buddy, you'll just feel a small pinch.”
There obviously wasn't any pain. Only a red light projected onto the metal plating, strong enough to breach in between the gaps as well. Stark moved the scanner leisurely down his arm, gently rotating his wrist when needed.
Bucky was just zoning out to the low hum of the tool, when Tony nearly startled him out of the chair. “So tell me fro-yo, how exactly did Birdman fall into a coma?” His concentration didn’t break, and if Bucky wasn’t looking in his direction, he wouldn’t have been able to tell Tony just spoke.
Deciding not to comment on the sarcastic disrespect, he replied “I thought Steve told you.”
“Yeah well, you know Cap. He sucks at lying, worse at giving half truths like it somehow makes him more guilty. When I pressured him about it, he said I quote ‘ need to know basis Tony, trust me ’. That response got old around the seventh time I asked.”
He finally decided the scanner was enough, quickly switching to a measuring tape that was in a weird pen shape. The way his hands curved around the tool was suddenly all Bucky could fixate on. Tony's dead hands didn't seem as strong and calloused as they are now.
Wow what the fuck.
Bucky just stared at Tony, failing miserably to empty his thoughts and stamp down the horrifyingly intrusive imagery of Stark's open casket funeral.
Even though the billionaire was annoying, and clearly thought he was a comedian, Bucky wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to the man to save him from that fate. Voices in his mind were silently urging him to say something, simultaneously choking him out of fear. He’d need a new shirt at this point, the sweat pooling in his shirt was uncomfortable.
“What? Why are you suddenly persperating like that? Do you need an IV? Is my technology turning you on that much? Cap told me you were a Stark fan back in the day.”
Bucky looked away, retracting his arm before Tony could finish tape measuring his forearm.
“I-I…” He couldn’t get any words out, screwing his eyes shut as if he could just dream the horror show away. Eventually, a finger poked his thigh very briefly. Bucky froze, slowly opening his eyes again to look at Tony. He leaned back in his chair, tools seemingly forgotten. A weird, understanding, sort of look in his eyes took Bucky by surprise.
He’d seen this before.
“Look, I don’t know what girl scout secrets you two have, but fine, I don’t need to know. If not knowing is how I can help, no matter what happens I’ll back you two up, and help the new recruit. As long as you’re doing what you need to protect what's yours, I can leave it alone. For now.”
Howard had said the same thing to him before a mission.
What would have been a suicide mission for most, ended up being the first of three black ops missions for Bucky. It was the first of it’s kind, not advertised on the billboards or Tv’s back home because, well, what they did was unsavory to say the least. Their first mission was to target and torture a Nazi political family that had majority financial interest in chemical weapons development close to the border of Russia. There were rumors of these weapons being released in rural areas for testing, but the facilities were switched every night and only the stock holders had the full picture. They had to act quickly, deadly and decisively to protect villages from being experimented on.
Only four men, Joseph, Gabriel, Steve and Bucky would know of these missions, and never speak of it or reflect on it outside of them. He liked to think even Peggy didn’t know of them. Looking back, It was the only time he could say he did dirty work mirroring Hydra’s, except completely lucid.
Preparing for the first mission was daunting, and gnawing at his ethics. They’d have to restrain the 15 year old daughter, with no orders to kill her, but no orders to keep her alive. They were practically on their own, tasked with retrieving the intel no matter the cost. Needless to say, he could barely eat, and the glimpse he saw of himself in the mirror that day made him question his sanity for enlisting.
That morning, before the sun defrosted the grass, Howard saw Steve and the other two men mount the car. He ran to Bucky, who was dragging his feet far behind his squad. The sleep was evident in Howards eyes and the dawn made him seem like almost a heavenly reminder of purpose Bucky had forgotten about.
“Look, I don’t know what boy scout secrets you two have, but fine, I don’t need to know. If not knowing is how I can help, no matter what happens I’ll back you two up. As long as you’re doing what you need to protect what’s important, I can leave it alone. For now.”
Turns out, the intel was a lot easier to get out of the German mogul than they thought. With regrettably horrific threats to the wife and daughter they obviously never intended to act on, the Nazi spilled their plans to chemically bomb displacement camps on the border as a distraction for a covert spy mission. Instead of killing them, like their Commanders not so explicitly encouraged them to do, Steve and Gabriel returned to camp with the Nazi, and Bucky and Joseph escorted the wife and daughter to Polish camp a few miles west, where they’d be smuggled into the country as refugees.
He bought Howard a few drinks at the canteen that night, and could only laugh wetly at the memory now.
“You know, you’re a lot like your dad.” Tony raised an eyebrow at this, silently prompting him to go on. Bucky filtered his memory to be more brief and palatable. Regardless, it left Tony to sit with an unidentifiable emotion.
Bucky sighed. “What you said, should secrets be kept even if being silent could hurt other people?”
Tony shook his head, the same way Howard did when he posed the same question half drunk that night. “Especially if being silent could hurt others.”
The next morning, there were thankfully some results shared after breakfast. Natasha made a last minute entrance before Tony could disclose his findings, finally resurfacing after her quick departure from dropping Sam off in Wakanda. Something about Shield related business.
As she nibbled for scraps, Tony began. “So, based on the very limited, and suspiciously acquired information you have given me, there are three buildings that could be holding your new recruits in New York. “ A map projection sprawled out over the table from the tiny cube centerpiece, circling three buildings in three different burroughs from an extended street view.
Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “So what are we waiting for?”
“Well Cap, two of which are private government property, supposedly holding ‘nefarious’ Secret Service activities, so unless you want to be arrested on site, we can’t really ‘trapeze’ in there.” Tony's excessive use of finger quotes clearly disturbed Natasha in a way Bucky desperately wished Sam could laugh with him about. “And the last one has a critical health and safety hazard warning issued by the EPA, OSHA, DoL, HSE and DHS. Apparently we need hazmat's to enter the property. Ones large enough for your 'roided bodies is being made now by my robots.”
Bucky leaned forward to try to get a better view, the temptation to pinch and zoom with his fingers itched as he inspected the image of the building as best he could. With Tony's droning voice in the background, he focused on the layout and design features.
The building appeared worn down, not just in a way that suggested health and safety hazards. Paint peeling off the flat columns, bricks practically pink from weather and a giant, ugly broken ocular window further dated the structure. Would the sorcerer’s lair really be so run down? Bucky placed his fingertips to his temple, massaging as if it’d help trigger some memories. A list of facts began forming before his closed eyes :
1. The sorcerer - Dr. Strange - can create illusions and portals.
2. According to official Avengers data, the New York Sanctum reported to the Avengers their existence early 2017, and it was currently 2015.
He had to take pause in his thought process, trying not to reel, for the millionth time, that he’s time traveled. Sometimes he honestly forgets, but doesn’t at the same time because he misses home every day. Honestly, none of the past nearly a fucking year feels real, how much of this time has he even spent being crippled instead of fixing things - pulling the emergency brake on his thoughts, Bucky continues:
3. Just because they reveal themselves in 2 years doesn’t mean they didn’t exist before.
4. The building address was… what was the address?
Steve’s voice nagged him in his head, something about asking if he was okay, but the disturbance nearly dissipated a very fuzzy and grainy image of the paperwork that was delicately materializing before him.
“Damnit Steve shut the fuck up I’m tryna think.”
With his mind quiet again, he pressed his fingers harder into his temple. The picture started focusing and refocusing over and over, like a broken camera lens. Honestly, he thought he had better memory than this. He could remember the Hydra Florida facility layout for fucks sake.
“You know, something about Harlem has always drawn me in.”
Bucky snorted, losing some of the Kona Ice in his mouth to the slushed uneven pavement. Sam looked offended, “Why are you laughing at me? I open my heart to you and you laugh in my face like a cold asshole. It makes sense now why you’re eating sugar gravel in the middle of November.”
Wiping stray saliva off his shirt, he ribbed back. “Sam, two things. One, you calling shaved ice sugar gravel will never not make my day, and two I laughed because we’re in Greenwich Village and haven’t said a word to each other in thirty minutes.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at this, a smile cracking through his façade of seriousness. “You’re timing our silences? Are you that desperate to talk to me?”
Thankfully, they came to a stopped crosswalk, giving Bucky a solid three seconds to concentrate on what exactly he should say next. Taking in Sam’s amusement, the glimmer in his eyes and chapped lips from the frigid weather, Bucky chose sincerity.
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
His eyes shot open, standing forcefully enough to shove the wooden chair back.
“Greenwich Village. That one, the broken down building. The Sorcerer’s are there.”
Surprise painted everyone's face, as if they forgot how to speak. Slightly irritated at their delay, he emphasized urgency. “Guys. Let’s get going. We’re on a clock here.”
Steve and Nat peered at each other doubtfully, before nodding in silent concession to the destination. Tony seemed to catch on. “Uhm. Hold on. You two are just going to breeze past the fact that he said ‘ sorcerers?’ , yeah okay. Barnes, do you need me to do an MRI maybe?”
He really, really didn’t want to waste time explaining this to Tony, so he gave him a look that pleaded to keep his promise from yesterday. Bucky didn’t think he was good at Steve’s puppy eyes, but it worked apparently. Stark glared, then raised his hands in defeat as well.
“Fine. But the hazmat suits aren’t done yet.”
“We don’t need them. Come on.”
Bucky was halfway out of the dining room when Natasha called out. “Wait. Should we bring Sam?”
He paused, unsure now that the question was posed out loud. He kind of just assumed they'd bring him. Realistically though, it’d be very, very unsafe to transport him. They could get attacked on their way to the building, or the sorcerers may want a fight, or want to erase everything. But the same could happen here; Stark tower could get attacked, if the sorcerers got mad they could tear down the building, or take Sam away suddenly while he was at the Sanctum and Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to be without him.
It felt like a split decision in the middle. 50/50 this could go very, very wrong.
He couldn’t move.
“Steve.” He balled up his fists as he called to his friend quietly. “I can’t decide.” Steve slowly walked up to Bucky.
“It’ll be safer for him here-”
“But-”
“Tony and I will protect him. You and Natasha should go. It’s safer that way.”
Bucky inhaled sharply. “Okay, Cap.”
They suited up in the weapons room without speaking, only the sound of leather and buckles busied his mind. After he finished securing the last knife satchel on his thigh, he asked Nat if she was ready.
“Yeah, I am.”
He turned towards the door, only for her to be right next to him. “Вы меня напугали!” (You startled me!)
She chuckled, her red bob shimmering with the movement. “Listen, дорогой (dear), I have to tell you something.”
Bucky stood facing her properly, slightly concerned despite Natasha's airy demeanor. “I feel like I never got to say a real thank you.” Natasha shuffled in place, almost as if she was a little shy. Bucky wanted to laugh, this spitfire of a woman never got shy.
“What do you mean маленький кролик (little rabbit)?” He gently squeezed her hand, and despite the gloves blocking the feel, he suddenly realized it was the first time he held her hand since they tried running away together decades ago. Choking back the emotion was harder than he'd care to admit.
“Well, I wasn’t able to visit you that often in Wakanda, and when we did see each other, we weren’t able to spend much time catching up.” She took a deep breath, squeezing his hand in return.
“And honestly, I was scared to tell you thank you. For letting me get to know you as a person, not an assassin. Although you haven’t shared much, seeing the hard time you had in Wakanda gave me the feeling we never had a chance to reconnect as we did now. So thank you, for risking the consequences there were to be here with us. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but I know I don’t regret this small blessing. Things will work out as they are supposed to, and I think this was supposed to happen, so don’t worry too much.” She spared a quick, watery smile before pulling him in for a tight hug. Too stunned to move, her words kept repeating over and over in his head. Her impossibly soft hair tickling his chin motivated his hands to move on their own, burying his fingers in the silken threads. It was muffled, but he heard her words louder than if she yelled them in the small room.
“Thank you for trying to save me that day. I never forgot.”
Bucky’s eyes and nose started leaking, and trying to snort it all back in let out a disgustingly congested sound. Natasha chuckled into his vest as he squeezed her tighter, praying to a God he doesn’t believe in to shrink Nat down and keep her safe in his pocket forever. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she leaned back, eyes dryer than the Saharan desert while tears still streamed down Bucky’s face. She laughed at him again, wiping them away with her fingers.
He’d never forget her smile, bright as her hair, and larger than her first ever laugh under that cursed Russian table. “Let’s save Sam.”
And you. And Tony. And Steve. And T’Challa. And Ramona. And Vision. And Karli. And Zemo. And Sharon. And Fury. And-
On their way out, he stopped by Sam’s bed. Natasha and Steve waited for him in the lobby, while Stark lurked outside the room, though Bucky couldn’t care less who heard him.
He leaned over Sam, brushing his gloved hand against his cheek. “Sam, sweetheart…”
There was so much to say, so many old memories that have been renewed with a deeper significance than he could imagine, layered with so many created memories now that will forever be cherished as precious gifts. Yet there were no words to express how he felt, nothing he could say to Sam that would amount to even 1% of the gratitude, guilt, dismay, regret and joy he's experienced.
In terms of saving the world, he’s only had one real accomplishment so far, which was successfully minimizing the damage to the Washington DC Shield base. While a similar fallout occurred, the government has come out with more support than before. All their preceding missions from what he’s seen have been more successful than their previous reputation showed.
While there was only one real accomplishment, what he’s gained emotionally from being here has felt insurmountably more like a win than DC. He got the incredibly lucky chance to revisit forgotten memories, spend time again with Ayo and Shuri, laugh again with Steve, hold Natasha again, and to actually connect with Tony. One of the most blessed things of course, has been seeing Sam without the complex burdens of the future. He seemed freer, scared, but still daring to venture without cause for much loss holding him back. He was beautiful, just as much as he was in the future. It felt like a shame, to have caused a devastating mental illness, to see a bird like him in this bed, when he should be soaring the skies and globetrotting to satiate his thirst for adventure.
It felt like a shame, Bucky’s cowardice in the future, not having truly appreciated and taken all the opportunities presented to him. From the strange comfort in the bathroom at the funeral, their awkward and strained reconnection in D.C., defeat of the Flag smashers and sharing that sorrowful Louisianian dinner together, the crawfish boil with Sarah and the kids, arguing on their missions, moving in with each other in Delacroix, adopting Alpine, to his final moments in Sam’s arms. All of it was an opportunity to do something .
But all of that something…it would have been too early. It wouldn’t have settled in as deeply into his bones as it was now. He may not have seen it then, but every one of those moments led to the moment in Wakanda where he did do something. He did do something, because it all piled onto each other, little by little to help him realize that:
What Sam and him could have can be stronger than a working partnership, mutual friends and shared trauma.
It goes further than friendship, attraction and interest; than cuddling, temptation and one kiss.
It’s greater than soft moments of reassurance, of dependence and care.
Holding Sam’s face in his palm, still slightly pale from his own body temperature, his feelings unexpectedly released.
He released his self pity, his plight, his fear, his hesitance, his regret.
Release it all, and let gratitude rush in, wholly and completely into every corner of his soul.
Stroking Sam’s cheek again with his thumb, Bucky finally knew what to say.
“I love you.”