Chapter Text
“Let’s reconvene in fifteen, shall we?”
“Yeah, let's.” Sam clenched his jaw, giving a slight nod at the senator he’d just gone toe-to-toe with for the last half hour. He hid the few choice words he wanted to rattle off behind a tight smile as everyone around him pushed away from the conference table. Effing asshole, he thought unkindly, grateful as the room cleared out. He headed for the table set up in the back, pouring a cup of mediocre coffee, glaring at the lack of sugar packets. Of course. He reached for the Splenda, imagining Bucky’s scandalized expression if he ever caught wind of this. Bucky, who was old enough to remember when sugar was rationed, couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly use the fake stuff in a day and age where real sugar was readily available. Well as you can see, it ain’t readily available, Sam ranted in his head. Because a bunch of rich, out of touch assholes took it all, that’s why.
He could just hear Bucky’s haughty response. Yeah, well I’d rather go black than put that fake shit in my body.
Oh, you’d rather go black, huh-
“You okay?”
He startled as Rhodey stopped beside him, hiding his embarrassment at both being caught off guard and the fact he was actually carrying on a conversation with Bucky in his head. Who the hell did that? That…that probably wasn’t normal. “They took all the sugar,” Sam grumbled, feeling like a petulant child but not particularly caring. He hated days like this, when an abundance of red tape forced him to make nice to the same smug politicians he’d rather punch in pasty-assed faces.
Aw, who needs sugar when you’re already that sweet?
Bucky…Bucky wouldn’t even say that. Why was Bucky’s voice suddenly in Sam’s head being all flirty? What the fuck was wrong with his brain? Sam…Sam needed to get a grip. Get some sleep. Get in touch with Bucky who had been on assignment with the Thunderbolts and completely out of pocket for two long miserable weeks. A new season of Love is Blind had dropped on Netflix, Sam existing in a bubble to avoid being spoiled on that shit. Bucky’s white ass loved him some Love is Blind and Sam couldn’t honestly say that he, himself, hated it. There was something hopeful in the few couples who managed to make a genuine connection amid all that drama, cattiness, and self-absorption. Every now and then two people were real and really invested. Sam found himself rooting for a happy ending despite the ridiculous premise.
“Figures. We could check the adjoining room?” Sam shook his head at Rhodey. Splenda was fine–a good parallel actually–as artificial as these jackasses in suits he was butting heads with. Every sip of his coffee as he stared them down would remind him of who he was dealing with. Fuck if he was giving them the satisfaction of backing down.
He reached inside his tailored jacket when his cell phone started buzzing, a scowl immediately lighting his features as he took in the number. An incoming call from John H. Walker…what the actual fuck?! How the hell did Walker of all the damn people have his private number? Sam was suddenly grateful for the enhanced protocols on his phone that identified almost any number. One needed to be freaking prepared when dealing with freaking Walker. Though tempted to ignore it, curiosity got the better of him. He tapped the screen to accept. “This better be good.”
“Sammy?”
Sam stiffened, Bucky’s familiar voice sounding both gruff and strained on the other end. “Buck?” Alarm swirled in his gut. “What’s going on? Why are you calling me on Walker’s phone?”
“Because he’s a…a dumbass,” Bucky said, the obvious sluggishness in his tone doing nothing to set Sam’s mind at ease. “He…took my phone. Won’t lemme call anyone. I showed him, didn’t I, Sammy? He took my phone, so I took his. Shh. He…doesn’t even knooow…”
Bucky’s voice faded out, Sam gripping the phone as a slew of thoughts assailed him at once–none of them good. “Buck, talk to me. Are you hurt?”
“Yeah…yeah…I think so.”
“Stay with me, focus.”
“Yeah, it’s bad. My heart.”
His heart?! “Your heart?” Sam fought off a wave of dizziness, his chest tight and throat constricted as he struggled to take a deep breath.
“Definitely my heart. That’s why I called you. Who else…am…I gonna call with a hurt heart?”
“How’re you hurt?” Was it an injury? A heart attack? A panic attack? Sam’s mind frantically raced for an answer based on the vague information.
“Dunno…Sam?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I promise I’m here–”
“Sam…” After a dramatic pause, Bucky let out a loud exhale. “Shit. I’m running out of time.”
Sam’s knees nearly buckled. No. No. Fuck, no. “Okay…just…just tell me where you are-”
“I…dunno.”
“What do you know?”
“It…It was airborne. A neur…o…tox…in. I don’t have much time left ‘fore it’s over. I had to say goodbye.”
“No! No saying goodbye.” Sam backed himself against the nearest wall for support, clenching and unclenching the hand that wasn’t clutching the cell in a desperate bid for control as he shoved down his panic. Panic would do him no good. Bucky no good. He slanted wild eyes toward Rhodey, whose brow was furrowed in concern as he listened to Sam’s side of the conversation. “I’m gonna come an’ get you. You just gotta let me know where you are, okay?”
“You gonna rush?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course I am.”
“You gonna rush, rush?”
That sounded…weird? Why did Bucky sound so weird all of a sudden? “Uh—yeah?”
“That’s a good’un. Gonna do that one. Think of you. Hurry. Come to me.”
Sam felt like he was missing something vital, but it made sense that Bucky wasn’t exactly coherent. “Focus. I need you to focus so I can find you, okay?”
“I was…in the hospital. I overheard…the doctor said there was nothing more they could do. Just…to keep me comfortable.” Sam sucked in a breath at the finality in Bucky’s voice, his own heart clenching in agony. “I don’t want this to be the end.”
“It’s not,” he said sternly, leaving zero room for argument. Bucky did not go out this way. Not from a random heart condition brought on by a neurotoxin without Sam by his side. Sam didn’t accept that end, and he wasn’t letting Bucky accept it either. “You hang on for me, got it?”
“K.”
“Do you know what country you’re in?”
“Yeah, the US,” Bucky returned, sounding a little judgey–like Sam should’ve known that. How the hell was Sam supposed to know that? “Safehouse in…in DC.”
“I’m in DC,” Sam said dumbly, because…Bucky was right here? Had he been here this whole time? Within Sam’s reach?
“I know,” Bucky tossed back, sounding utterly forlorn. “So close. Yet so far. Always…so far.” He sighed again. “Okay, well, bye.”
“Wait!” Sam could barely contain his anguish at Bucky’s flippant farewell. It was like Bucky was flip flopping between extreme emotional distress and inane emotional unavailability–which made no sense. What the hell was this toxin? “Can you give me anything else to go on?”
“I can’t compromise the mission, Sam.”
“I’m not asking you to–”
“I can’t or this will all be for nothing.”
Sam wasn’t sure what this was exactly, but Bucky had willingly accepted a spot on the Thunderbolt roster so they could have eyes on Ross and Valentina. His loyalty to both Sam and Wakanda made him feel such a move was necessary. Sam intuitively knew Bucky wouldn’t budge if it meant compromising a role he felt was necessary to protect those two interests. “Okay, okay, I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“You’ll rush, rush?”
What the absolute hell? “Yes, Bucky. I’ll rush.”
“Rush, rush? Say it.”
Of all the ridiculous…
He reminded himself Bucky was possibly dying. “I’ll rush, rush.”
“You don’t sound like you mean it.”
“Fuck it all, Bucky! I’ll rush-rush, okay?!”
“Good. Oh, and come alone, okay? We can’t…compromise the mission.”
Fuck the fucking mission! “But if Walker is holding you-”
“Walker ain’t holding me. Gimme some credit for standards, Sam. My heart ain’t hurtin’ that bad, Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?! What the fucking hell? “I didn’t mean…fuck Bucky.” Sam blew out a frustrated breath. Was Bucky purposely being obtuse here? “You said Walker is there, right? He won’t let you have a phone or leave?”
“Right. Why?”
Sam would’ve counted to ten, but he didn’t want to waste any time. “I’m assuming he’ll try to stop me from seeing you?”
“Oh yeah, he’ll be so pissed when you show up. I hope I’m around to see it. Fuck, what if I’m not around to see it? That’s gonna suck so bad. I really want to see it.”
Bucky sounded despondent again. “Just…hell Bucky…” Sam felt the threat of tears burn his throat. He never should have agreed to Bucky joining that damn team…never should have let his safety rest in hands of people like John Walker…or Thaddeus Ross…or Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. What the hell was he thinking? Sam could’ve kept him safe. Would have done anything to keep him safe. “Don’t talk like that okay?”
“Like what? Hey! Thought! Yelena is here; she will get you to me.”
Yelena! Of course. Yelena and Bucky had each other’s backs. Sam frowned. But, if Yelena was there, why hadn’t she called Sam herself? What sort of mission was this? That Bucky suffering alone…possibly dying–oh gawd!-- without him was the preferable alternative? Why hadn’t Yelena stopped Walker from cutting off Bucky’s means of contacting him? In an argument, he’d place his bets on Yelena over Walker any day. “Just hold on until I get there–”
“Okay. Will do. Well, gotta go.”
Sam shuddered as the phone disconnected, Bucky’s tone surprisingly upbeat for someone slipping away. Fuck…was he going into shock? Anguished dark eyes turned Rhodey’s way. “Bucky…Bucky’s hurt. But he’s in DC. I think Walker is holding him hostage.”
Rhodey blinked at Sam as he processed that bit of information. “But they’re on the same team.”
“And Walker’s a douchebag who hovers around unhinged when the mood strikes. Look, I gotta figure out where the safehouse is. I need you, Man. I don’t care what favor you gotta call in, I gotta find him. Please.”
“Sam-”
Sam straightened to full height, muscles tense and ready as he thrust his chin out. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring in defiance. “I’ll tear this whole city apart, Rhodes. Don’t test me on that.”
“Shit Sam!” Rhodey quickly looked around, grateful they were still alone. The last thing anyone needed was to hear Captain America threaten destruction on the nation’s capital. These dispassionate bastards would land on any excuse to oust him, too full of hubris and ignorance to realize just how much this country needed Sam Wilson. “Look, cool your jets alright? I mean it. Just keep it cool. I know someone I can call. I’ll figure out where the safehouse is. But you can’t go in there, guns blazing after Bucky. He’s technically on his own mission for the same government.”
“You’n I both know Ross is having that team do the dirty work.”
“Nevertheless, it’s still work that needs doing. There’s a reason you’re out of it. You need to stay out of it as much as possible. And keep me out of it, too.” Outwardly Rhodey stayed calm and composed despite the warning that flashed in his fierce gaze. He waited until Sam finally conceded, returning the small nod with one of his own. “Okay. I’ll handle the rest of things here. Say you got called out for an emergency.” He dug for his phone. “Now let me see what I can find out about that safehouse.”