Chasing Ghosts Part I
That water's gotta by ice cold by now, Sam mused to himself. Barnes was still in the shower. Sam hadn't left the corner, as instructed. But, he had slid one of the dinette table's chairs over and sat down. No reason to stay standing, after all.
Finally, the water stopped running, and a few minutes of shuffling sounds later, Barnes emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of Steve's jeans-rolled up a bit at the bottom to make up for Rogers' slightly longer legs-and carrying a shirt in his metal hand. Sam got a look at the entirety of the cybernetic appendage for the first time. He eyed the severely scarred seam where the metal shoulder met the flesh of Bucky's chest while Barnes's dried off.
"Does it hurt?" Sam ventured to ask. "The arm?"
"No," Barnes replied curtly. He glanced up at Sam a moment later and his face shifted slightly. "A little...sometimes. I'm used to it."
Sam nodded, but didn't say anything else about that. He pointed to the food bag on the bed next to where Bucky was standing. "There's another burger in there, if you're hungry."
Barnes eyed the bag for a moment, then Sam. His eyes narrowed. "Drugged?"
"Nah," Sam laughed gently. "I wouldn't want to tell Steve that I'd tried to poison his best friend. He'd frown on that." He made a point of saying "friend" as much as possible, trying to drive the point home.
"Probably wouldn't work on me, anyway," Barnes said quietly.
Watching Sam warily, Barnes cautiously took the hamburger out and unwrapped the aluminum foil. He sniffed the sandwich a few times, then carefully took a small bite. Sam watched him chew and swallow rather mechanically at first, then he tore into the burger like he was starving-which, if he was even close to having Steve's metabolism, he probably was. The whole sandwich was gone in under a minute.
He wordlessly discarded the empty wrapper and stepped back into the bathroom. Sam heard water running again, for several minutes, then Barnes was back in view, stuffing his earlier clothes into a canvas bag. He moved back to the bed and tugged on a black T-shirt that was emblazoned with Captain America's shield. Sam stifled a laugh. Why does Steve have one of those? Barnes covered it with one of Steve's dark blue hoodies.
"Shoulders are a little big," Barnes said, more to himself than Sam. He tested his range of movement in the clothing, then zipped up the hoodie. His body language displayed all the signs of someone getting ready to bolt.
"You should stay here, rest up," Sam suggested. "Steve's on his way back, he'll be here in a few hours at most."
"I can't stay," Barnes said, voice firm.
"He wants to see you," Sam tried again, hoping beyond hope that he might get through.
"I want to see him," Barnes said softly, pausing in pulling his boots on, just for a moment. "But I can't...I can't stay."
Sam cursed silently, but he could no more stop Barnes from leaving when he wanted to than he could stop Steve. He almost regretted not calling Rhodes, even though that would have destroyed any bridges Sam had built between him and Barnes tonight. He decided to help where he could, and face Steve's disappointment when it came. He slowly pulled out his wallet, telegraphing every move as he held it up and tossed it over to Barnes, who caught it in one hand.
"My wallet. Take the cash."
Barnes stared at it for a moment, then looked back at Sam, visibly troubled. "Why are you helping me?"
Sam shrugged. "You're Steve's friend. I'm Steve's friend. I guess that makes me your friend, too."
"I don't have friends," Barnes said. He sounded like he believed it.
"Well," Sam replied. "You've got at least one. Maybe two or three, now."
Bucky looked troubled by that, but he took the cash as instructed, placing the wallet down on the bed. He gathered up the clothing bag and headed for the door.
Sam spoke again as Barnes got next to him, feeling more than a little like he'd failed tonight. He didn't meet Barnes' eyes. "Anything you want me to tell Steve when he gets here?"
"Tell him to stay away." Bucky said. "It's not safe."
Sam nodded once. "I will. He won't listen, though. I think you know that."
"Make him," Bucky urged, stopping to face him. "Keep Steve safe. It's all Bucky-it's all I ever wanted."
Barnes turned to leave, but stopped again, looking back at the bed, and the drawing pad. "And...ask him...."
Sam glanced between him and the drawing, asking softly. "Ask him what?"
Barnes turned to him, looking so utterly lost for a moment that it made Sam's breath hitch.
"Ask him if he knew."
Then he was gone.
CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS
Super 8 Motel
Maryville, Missouri
The Next Day
"How long was he here?" Steve asked, breathing heavy for reasons Sam knew had nothing to do with running from the car to the room. Steve had set a ground speed record covering the 78 miles from the airport, Sam was sure of that.
"Maybe an hour," Sam said. "I tried to get him to stay, but...."
Steve let out a groan of pure frustration and dropped onto the edge of the bed. Ironically, it was the one Bucky had been standing near. "What did he say? Wha-what did he want?"
Sam filled him in on the entire encounter, including Bucky cleaning up and taking some clothes. Then he got to the part he dreaded, because he knew how Steve would hear it. "I think he came here to see you, Steve." He continued quickly before Steve could speak. "But, listen, he said he wanted me to keep you away from him."
"Why?" Steve asked.
"He said it wasn't safe for you. That's all. He just said he wanted me to keep you out of it-whatever it is. What's coming, I guess."
Steve pondered that for a moment, frown lines on his face deepening. "He's going after HYDRA on his own. Idiot."
Sam refrained from mentioning that Bucky had said the same about him, settling for a grin. "Yeah, I'm sensing a few recurring themes with you two."
Rhodes, who had been silent thus far, spoke up. He was using the new forensics software Stark had programmed into the Patriot armor to scan the room for any clues as to where Bucky might be holed up. "I got nothing, here. Just some footprint impressions in the carpet. He's good at not leaving traces."
"Did the FBI get the map locations from McAllister, yet?" Steve asked suddenly. "Maybe we can guess at where he's going next."
"Yeah, last night," Rhodey answered. "I asked Tony and JARVIS to start monitoring those areas for us."
"Well, that's something, at least." Steve didn't look satisfied, but he had calmed a little. He looked back at Sam. "Did he say anything else?"
"Well, actually," Sam reached over and retrieved the drawing tablet, offering it to Rogers. "I think he was looking at this when I came in, and he seemed...I don't know, entranced by it. I think maybe he recognized this place."
Steve stared at the drawing. "Prague."
"Yeah. He asked me to ask you 'did you know.' Any idea what that means?"
Steve's froze. His eyes widened a little.
Sam sat on the opposite bed. "Did something happen there?"
After a moment, Steve set the pad aside with a sigh. "You know how I told you Bucky never wanted to talk about what Zola did to him? I always just thought he was...embarrassed or humiliated by it. Buck never liked to talk about his own problems, and he hated pity...after a while I just let it go. We were always on the move, another raid, another mission. There was never any time, but...Prague was different."
CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS
August 1944
Twenty miles Northwest of Prague
Nazi-Occupied Czechoslovakia
After a very rushed escape and another exhausting march, they found an easily defensible spot in the forest and sacked out for a few hours. There was no moon, and the shadows of the trees completely obscured them from view, but they kept a lookout, rotating through as each of them caught a few winks. Stark's plane would be waiting at the extraction point along the border at dawn-at least that was the plan.
Steve stuck his head through his tent flap. Bucky was lying on his back in the second sleeping bag-the Army frowned on officers and NCOs bunking together, but he and Bucky didn't care. They'd been roommates for years, and besides it was one less tent they needed to carry.
In the faint light from the lantern, Steve noticed Bucky's eyes were open, and the liquor bottle on the ground beside him was half empty. That in itself was troubling. Bucky had been drinking a lot recently-ever since Italy, really-but, oddly, it never seemed to slow him down. The others, who knew what Bucky had gone through, never dared say anything about it, even when it went on behind the lines like now.
Crawling inside and closing the flap behind him, Steve sat cross-legged across from Bucky, holding up a gold can that was liberally brushed with olive green camouflage paint. "I come bearing your daily C-ration, pal-o-mine."
Bucky grunted in response, his eyes still fixed somewhere on the tent wall. Steve tried to keep up a happy expression, but he'd been worried about Bucky all night. He'd been silent since his near-capture, and had withdrawn to the tent immediately after they'd set up their perimeter. Usually, he was the one taking the first guard shift. Steve pressed on, determined to get a real response, even an irritated one.
"Let's see what's on tonight's menu. It is..." He popped the key off the bottom of the can with a flourish and opened the lid, immediately regretting his choice. "Ugh, meat and vegetable hash. Sorry, Buck. Maybe one of the other guys has one of the stew cans. I can check...?"
Bucky's mouth twisted into a frown, his first reaction since Steve sat down. He squinted slightly. "Do you think we'll make it out of this, Steve?"
Steve blinked, taken by surprise. The knot of worry in his stomach tightened, but he forced his voice to stay upbeat. "'Course I do. We've got HYDRA on the ropes."
Another grunt was the only response. Bucky's eyes were staring at something else, something far away. Steve's face fell. He'd been seeing that expression on Bucky's face a lot since his capture in Italy. Since Zola. "Why did you ask me that? What are you thinking about Buck?"
"Nothin'."
Steve nudged Bucky's elbow playfully. "Come on. You gotta be thinking about something."
Bucky raised his eyebrows slightly. "No, really. I'm not thinking at all. My mind's a total blank. It's...strange."
That knot of worry in Steve's stomach grew uncomfortably larger. He reached for the hem of his friend's shirt. "I'm gonna check your wound, okay? Make sure it's not bleeding again."
"It's fine," Barnes said idly, eyes still holding that thousand yard stare. He didn't resist when Steve pulled his shirt open and peeled back the bandage Bucky had applied himself after they escaped the site of battle. Steve opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.
There was no wound. Steve glanced at Bucky with a frown. "I thought you were hit?"
Bucky finally looked at him, but his eyes still weren't focused. "Just a scratch...I guess it healed already."
"Your shirt's soaked through with blood," Steve said, eyes narrowing. "You put a bandage on it."
Bucky blinked, and for the first time since sitting down, Steve got the sense that his friend was actually conscious and in the tent with him. "I-I guess I was wrong."
Steve shook his head. He'd seen that look on Barnes' face before. When he was lying through his teeth or swindling some schmo out of money in a card game. Steve wouldn't have it. He'd known Barnes too long not to see it.
Bucky laughed, a little nervously, and sat up. "Honestly, Steve, I must have been wrong. It was dark. I thought I got hit, but maybe I didn't. I stabbed one of those guys, maybe the blood is his."
"Don't lie to me, Buck."
Bucky shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I tell you everything, Stevie."
"Bucky," Steve said warningly.
"Hand to God, I tell you everything," Bucky leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. "Like when me and Vickie Marlowe-"
Steve immediately threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, okay! I believe you."
Bucky genuinely giggled. The sound was music to Steve. Still.... He sobered, and scooted over to sit directly beside Barnes. He reached over, grabbed the liquor bottle and took a long swig from it, then smacked it down between them, throwing down the proverbial gauntlet as if they were sitting on their couch in Brooklyn on the rare occasion that Bucky had gotten dumped. Once the challenge was brought, they weren't allowed to lie to each other. Bucky's own rules. "What's wrong?"
Bucky laughed, again a bit nervously, but Steve could see on his face that he knew he was being called out. He shook his head, glancing down at the bottle. "Nothing. I just...."
"What?" Steve pressed, quietly.
Bucky's eyes shifted to the far side of the tent. He wasn't trying to smile anymore. "I just- I just want to go home, Steve. I'm tired. I'm so tired."
Steve absorbed that for a moment. Bucky looked tired. He also looked a lot older than he had just over a year before, when they'd said goodbye at the docks. Steve slid his arm around Bucky's shoulders-still an odd feeling, since Bucky had been the taller one for so many years. "Look, let me talk to Phillips. Get you shipped Stateside-"
Bucky stiffened, turning and glaring at him. "No!"
"You've done enough, Buc-"
"Steve. No. Don't you dare!" Steve opened his mouth, only to end up with Barnes' finger in his face. "Don't you dare. I'm not leaving you on this God-forsaken continent. That's final!"
"Okay. Okay." Steve held up a hand in surrender. It was crazy, but for a moment he felt like he was staring into the snarling face of someone else. The angry visage melted back into his friend a moment later, like nothing had happened. "Listen, if you want to talk-"
"What I want," Bucky interrupted, sounding more like himself for the first time all night. He reached down and corked the bottle. "Is to go outside to talk Dum-Dum out of his stew, 'cause I ain't eating the shitty vegetable mush in that can. Then, my best friend is finally going to tell me his plan for landing one Miss Peggy Carter. Are we clear, Captain?"
Steve pursed his lips and favored Bucky with the extremely patient stare he'd developed over the years. "I told you, I don't have a plan for that...."
"That's funny, 'cause I read somewhere you always have a plan, Cap."
CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS
Present Day
Super 8 Motel
Maryville, Missouri
"You think he was already showing the signs of...whatever Zola did to him?" Sam asked.
"I know Zola gave him something, some version of what Erskine gave to me, it just took longer to work. We know it was far enough along to save his life when he fell." Steve looked over at Sam, a grim expression clouding his face. "I know he got shot that night. But when I checked a few hours later, he was completely healed."
"Did you suspect anything at the time?" Sam asked.
"I...didn't know what to think. Bucky never wanted to talk about it, and I was too-I was too scared to ask. Bucky was a hero, Sam. I was...just playing a part."
Sam frowned darkly, wanting to reach over and smack Rogers in the back of his thick head. "You're weren't playing a part, Steve."
He knew Rogers wasn't hearing him, though. Steve was spiraling down a dark hole, and Sam wasn't sure anything was going to pull him back up. Not until they found Barnes, anyway. Steve spoke again, head hanging dejectedly. "If I'd known the whole story, if I'd had any idea what was happening to him, I never would have stopped searching that canyon. You have to believe that, Sam."
Sam rested his elbows on his knees, leaning into Steve's space a bit. "I know, man."
"I need you to believe that, Sam," Steve said suddenly, pain-filled eyes burrowing into Sam's. "'Cause I'm not sure he will."
Sam blinked. For all the searching and racing across country they'd done the past few months, all the close calls and near misses, for all Steve's determination to find Barnes, it had never occurred to Sam until that moment. Steve wasn't going to stop until he found his friend...but when that moment finally came, he might be afraid to face him.
TBC