On The Lam
Then Bucky was hardly breathing. He couldn’t think as he pressed his hands, one of flesh, and the other of metal, to the stab wound in Sammy’s stomach.
“Call an ambulance! Now! Call a fucking ambulance!” Bucky was screaming raggedly. Peter, in a state of shock, dialed 9-1-1 on his phone and gave their location.
“-yes, yes, Captain America has been stabbed, please!- just get over here-...” He saw that Sam was bleeding badly, and leaned over his body. “My webs can help stop the bleeding for now. Let me help,” he said to Bucky.
Bucky leaned away, still staring at Sam. He watched as Peter gently sprayed webbing over the wound, and the bleeding stopped. “Where the hell are the paramedics?” he cried suddenly, and whirled at Peter as if it were his fault. The kid flinched instinctively and Bucky’s face fell. He knelt back next to Sam and pressed his forehead to Sam’s, tears of anger and despair dripping from his cheek.
“Please. Please be okay.”
The gentle sound of the EKG’s beeping filled the small hospital room. Bucky sat next to Sam’s bed, on a blue plastic chair, staring at his hands. They were clean now, but he could still see the crevices of his metal arm where the blood had seeped in and dried up.
Peter and Maggie had excused themselves an hour ago to run to the vending machine, but Bucky wasn’t worried that they weren’t back yet. He didn’t blame them for leaving; he wouldn’t want to be in the same room as himself right now, either. He blinked away the hot tears that pricked his vision as the thought went through his head.
Just then, there was a quiet grunt next to him, and another, as Sam fully sat up slowly.
“Hey, James.” Sam said it with a weak smile.
Bucky sat up eagerly, delighted. “Birdman! You’re awake! Jeez, you had us scared.”
“I bet you cried your eyes out.” Sam cracked a grin as Bucky leaned around him to fluff the hospital pillows and prop him up.
“Over you? Nope. Eyes as dry as the desert.”
Sam tilted his head to one side, a bigger grin spreading across his face. “Buck, your eyes are bloodshot and red. You’ve got tears on your chin. I’m willing to bet all my money that you sobbed over me.”
Bucky grew still then. He was still smiling sincerely, and looking at Sam up and down as if he was drinking it all in. He absorbed all of it, making a mental picture in his head: the way Sam’s dimple appeared on his cheek, the self-assured way he looked at Bucky...but mostly how happy he looked. How alive he looked. Sam Wilson is alive, thought Bucky. Alive as ever.
Peter slid through the door at that moment, eating pretzels, with his face buried in a comic book. Maggie trailed behind him, carrying a teetering stack of chip bags and candy bars from the vending machines. She burst into a huge smile when she saw Sam, promptly dropped all her chips in surprise, and leapt over to sit on the couch next to a cheerful Peter.
Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled painfully as Peter and Maggie began talking excitedly at him - “We thought you were a goner!” “I made you a get-well card!” “All the chips and candy are for you!...Sorry, Bucky, but we spent all the money you gave us- thirty dollars seemed like a lot at first!”
“Kids- little dudes- chill, chill! Thank you for the lifetime supply of chips!” Sam beamed at the two of them. One of his hands rested on his stomach, over the stab wound, but the other reached around to give a one armed side-hug to the kids.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and when Bucky called for the knocker to come in, a woman with dark red hair, a lab coat and a nervous grin came in. “Mr- Captain- Mr. Wilson! Good to finally meet you!” She smiled pleasantly. “I’m Dr. Drew, your surgeon. And, at the risk of seeming unprofessional, I’m also a huge fan.” She busily flipped open a chart. “I’m just gonna check your sats really quickly, and then I have a few questions for you while I check the bandages. How’s the pain level?”
Bucky watched anxiously, a falsely large and idiotic smile plastered on his face. Sam winced and spoke to the doctor as she pulled on gloves and began peeling away the cotton bandages. He could see how the wound was neatly sutured together, but still bloody and ugly. Bucky noticed Peter looking away, his face a shade of green. As the doctor replaced the bandages, there was another knock at the door. A terrified-looking young man in scrubs rushed in and bent over, whispering something in the doctor’s ear urgently. He stood, took a look at Bucky and Sam, and stood back, shifting back and forth with anxiety.
Dr. Drew stopped, stared at the young man, and then looked back at Sam. The fear in her eyes was evident. “I- patient just flatlined. I concur. Must go now.” She and the intern bolted out of the room most unprofessionally.
“Hey! You didn’t even check his sats yet!” Bucky hollered, but the doctor was gone. “What the hell was that about?”
Peter, scrolling through his phone, gasped as it dinged with a notification. His eyes widened as he read it and turned to look at the rest of them. “Sergeant Barnes? I think something is wrong...and I think I know what it is.” His voice trailed off skeptically and he held up a video on his phone. Maggie noticed his hands shaking.
“Last night, eyewitnesses described seeing a clash between innocent civilians and a group of people thought to be the Avengers…”
“...Ex-war criminal James Barnes was seen fleeing the scene last night with Spider-Man. It is believed that Barnes may have one or more accomplices, including Samuel Wilson, or Captain America.”
“At least three people, including a single father of four, are believed to have been murdered by this group of vigilantes. Authorities plan on making an arrest soon, but will approach this group very cautiously as they are considered extremely dangerous.”
Everyone watched, wide-eyed and silent. After a moment of shock, Bucky was the one to speak first. “We gotta get out of here. Can you walk?”
Sam groaned as he peered at the stab wound. “Yeah, but I’ll need a shit ton of painkillers. I’m probably going to pass out from the pain if I move. This thing is still fresh.”
“Ok,” said Bucky tensely. “Maggie, grab all our stuff. Peter, try and stand guard outside. They won’t arrest us in a hospital and potentially endanger civilians. I am going to see what meds I can bring for Sam. We need to move fast. Okay? Go!”
Everyone scurried in various directions. Bucky began rifling through the cabinets, packing up whatever he could find. He knew how to be on the run better than anyone. They all returned a minute later. Bucky picked up Sam easily, because they couldn’t handle a wheelchair at the moment. Maggie and Peter each held as much supplies as they could carry.
They rushed through the main center of the hospital where terrified civilians screamed and ran out of the way. Bucky glimpsed Maggie’s hand hovering over her gun. “Not here. Not now,” he hissed as they sped towards the parking lot.
“You sure about that?” Maggie looked at Bucky and gestured to two cops in the parking lot, shocked and nervous but holding guns. They were coming towards them.
“Try not to hit 'em anywhere vital,” grunted Bucky in reply, his arms aching with the strain of carrying Sam. Maggie grinned and tossed her bag to Peter.
“Hey you! Stop right there!” The cops were shouting at them, guns drawn. Maggie pulled out her own gun and let off a well-placed shot or two; the cop car promptly exploded and sent the two cops flying. They’d be unconscious for a while, but there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. Maggie grinned.
“I really never miss, huh?” She panted as she ran to catch up with the group.
They all piled into the car that Bucky had broken into and was now hot-wiring. Bye-bye to Sam’s Toyota, which was parked a few spaces down. Peter and Bucky got in the front seat, and Sam was gently laid in the backseat with Maggie, who began attaching his intravenous drip of morphine. The injured hero moaned in pain again as he slid in and out of consciousness. In the front seat, Bucky hit the gas pedal, and they started off down the road. With a jolt, he remembers being on the run with Steve shortly after he’d met Maggie - and had to leave her - after Vienna and his arrest. Steve had laughingly told him something that Bucky wouldn’t forget:
“When Natasha and I were on the run from Hydra and SHIELD, she told me her first rule of bein’ on the run, and it’s smart so we should listen.”
Bucky had wrinkled his nose and frowned. “Isn’t she technically the one chasing us? Wouldn’t she know her own rules?”
Steve had just smiled. “First rule of being on the run: don’t run, walk.”
“Wise words from Miss Romanoff.”
“She’s an old soul.” Bucky remembered how Steve had smiled as he said so. “You’d like her.”
Half an hour later, Bucky had punched Natasha a couple times and tried to drop-kick her into a pile of crates at an airport in Leipzig. Not exactly a proper re-introduction.
He was pulled back to the present quickly. His heart was still thudding in his chest from the escape at the hospital. Peter nervously turned to look at him.
“Mr. Barnes? Where...where are we gonna go?” Peter glanced back at Sam.
Bucky hadn’t exactly thought about that yet. His mind raced as he tried to work through the motions and steps of being On The Lam as he usually did.
1. Where is the enemy? Answer: all around us. They’ll have put our pictures out to the public. I’ve dealt with this before.
2. Where are our friends? Answer: mostly dead. Sharon can’t be trusted. In other words, we have none at the moment.
3. Where can we go? Answer: hiding out in abandoned buildings, cliche as it may seem, always works. Not exactly a five-star hotel, but they’ll do. Now, where to find an abandoned building?
Bucky grinned. Easy. “Peter, where’s that place you took Maggie when you two first met? Close by?”
“Yes!” Peter looked thrilled to be of service.
He gave Bucky the directions, and they headed to the warehouse. They would have to lay low for now, and couldn’t travel far. Sam wasn’t in much of a good condition, and he already looked worse for wear after only two minutes in the car.
They arrived at the warehouse and parked in the alleyway. Everyone quickly unloaded and began setting up inside. Sam was gently laid on a bed of wooden pallets and cardboard boxes. He’d passed out in the car. The other three clustered around, and Peter set up an IV drip of morphine for the pain. It was all they had been able to bring.
He and Maggie left quickly to arrange their stuff, and left Bucky kneeling next to Sam, clutching the injured man’s hand in his own metal one. He couldn’t get any clear thoughts through his head. He just looked at Sam, watched the sweat trickle down his brow, watched his chest moving slowly as he breathed. They’d be alright here for the time being. They’d lay low, gather supplies and let Sam heal.
Above all, however, they had to figure out who the Power Broker was. The Power Broker had clearly framed them. This nightmare would all be over once they found the Power Broker.
Whoever he may be.