Family

Joaquin stands back in silence. One ear takes in the sounds of nearly frantic medics as they work to stabilize one of the strongest and most frightening men he’s ever personally known, while the other picks up the quiet cries echoing from the nearly empty bench. The sight of Captain America, the man who’d fought Thanos, reduced to this was world shattering. Cradling his unmasked head with one hand, the man leans so far forward, his chest’s nearly resting against his legs. Tears catch the light as they trail downward with each quiet sniffle as he holds the close to his ear, gasping out his sister’s name.

Torres steps back, ignoring the heavy dread settling in his gut as he turns to check their status. The sooner they get back to base, the sooner he can find an empty room to hide in as the sights, smells, and sounds of this entire mission’s aftermath settle. Until he can find a bottle of booze and a big punching bag. Needing something… Anything… to purge his memory of the bloodied Sergeant and distraught Captain.

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“Sarah.”

Sam’s eyes drift up in time to catch a glimpse of deathly white skin as equipment moves. Fresh tears blurring his sight as a familiar burn ignites in his nose. Voice failing, the man lets his head fall. Laden eyelids shutting the world before him out, if only for a second. If only he could deafen himself to it all.

“Uncle Sam?”

Through all the fighting, anger, and despair, never had any of it brought Sam as close to throwing himself wingless from the belly of a plane as he is right now. The small, innocent voice of his niece echoes, as if tunneling its way through one ear, being sure to make a pit-stop in order to step on his heart, before exiting the other. Hands now shaking as he grips the phone tighter, he pulls whatever semblance of a voice he has left up from the depths.

“Hey, silly girl. W-What are you doing with your mama’s phone?”

He can just make out the scribbles of what could only be crayons, the paper shuffling unanchored around the living room coffee table. The toddler only caring about coloring with her right and holding the phone in her left; a feat he’d seen on more than a few occasions when she’d been talking with far off family. He can almost see her sweet little smile… Bucky’s smile. Her mother’s eyes shining bright as the sun behind her fluffy curls.

“She put cartoons on. I’m coloring.”

“Yeah, that’s good. Listen careful Lila, I need you to get your mama. Can you do that for me?”

Mustering up every ounce of courage he can find within him, Sam holds his breath as the phone clatters. Her tiny footfalls barely audible as she abandons her uncle. The man never felt so alone than in that moment, his heart yearning to hear his sweet girl's voice again. To pretend it’s his standard, post-mission phone call with his nephews and niece. To make believe that any minute now, the bionic staring machine’s going to snag the phone from his hand, eager to speak with the children he’s been separated from.

Pulling his lids apart, he dares a glance towards the med table. The commotion had died down enough that the medics now sat to the side. Both closely monitor the various machines attached to his brother-in-law. Bucky’s chest, rising and falling with mechanical breaths, is as unsettling a sight as it had been when it was still.

“Sam? Sam, are you there? Hello?"

His breath freezes in an instant. Full attention now focused on the floor as he shakily pushes the phone closer to his ear.

“S-Sarah. I need to… I-“

Voice again catching in his throat, he can only bite his lip as the strong woman on the other end pulls in a shaky breath of her own.

“Is he alive?”

“Yes.”

“Is it bad?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Sammy?”

Sam’s heart plummets further as his childhood nickname is uttered. A name she hadn’t called him since the day he’d left for the military. Her warm arms wrapping him up into the biggest hug she could muster before he climbed on the plane that would separate them for the first time in their entire lives. The taste of his own salty tears as he squeezed her, wanting to memorize what made Sarah Sarah before leaving. Pushing his memories aside, he turns his focus back to the task at hand.

"Yeah, Sarah?"

“It’s gonna be okay.”

For what feels like the sixth time in the span of three hours, the man finds himself breaking down. The biggest difference being his ability to latch onto the strength in her voice. Showing her big sister side as her firm tone pulls him from himself. Away from the wallowing he’s found himself sinking into for nearly a hundred percent of the flight to the main base.

“Sarah I-I love you.”

An audible sniffle comes through the speaker as she likely gathers herself from a near break.

“We love you too. Just… Just don’t leave him alone. Can you do that for me, Sammy?”

His sisters’ words only throw fuel onto whatever determination he’d had buried deep beneath his woes. The fragile shell of Captain America shedding its skin as a back straightened Sam Wilson takes his place. Fist clenched and jaw set, he fixes his gaze once more on the medics as the aircraft carefully sets down.

“He won’t be alone ever again. Not while I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Sarah calls out to her children just as the call ends, her strong voice still echoing inside his mind. Pushing him from his seat as the large bay door of their craft begins its ascent. The more bloodied medic, Jerry, stands at Bucky’s feet. Sweat trailing down his brow while his colleague, Marcus, stays at the head of Bucky’s stretcher. It only takes Sam four long strides before he’s at the soldier’s right side and leaning over his face. Paying no mind to the tube protruding from his brother’s mouth, he presses a kiss to the sweat slicked skin of Bucky’s forehead.

Pulling back and blinking back fresh tears, he grasps the man's flesh hand, limp against the bloodied sheet. Jerry and Marcus, remaining silent, merely salute both men as Sam, squeezing his hand tightly in his own, presses his forehead to Bucky’s.

“I’m right here, man.”

Marcus, ever the gentle giant, rests a hand to Sam’s back. One quick rub being given before pulling away and grasping one side of the stretcher firmly.

“I know.”

Pulling back, Sam disconnects the aircraft stationary ventilator. Taking the same ambu bag from Jerry as he’d extended it to him, he connects the device to Bucky’s ET tube. His hands which had earlier shook with uncertainty, now hold steady to the bag. Squeezing with practiced timing as Torres gives the signal and the stretchers finally lifted. Para-rescue Sam Wilson comes out in full force as he jogs alongside the limp body of his partner. Pumping the bag, Sam watches the man's chest rise and fall with each squeeze he gives as Sarah’s words hit him again.

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“It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”