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They had just been starting to work through some of their issues.
And then Bucky up and disappeared.
Not in the normal, non-communicative texting way. Bucky didn’t answer texts, but if Sam asked him to be somewhere for a mission, he always showed up. Bucky had many faults, but punctuality was not one of them.
Due to the time-sensitive nature of their mission he and Sharon had had to leave without him, but Sam couldn’t stop the worry gnawing in his gut the whole time. Sharon’s silence conveyed her having similar thoughts.
They had succeeded, but by then, Bucky had been missing for five days.
They had followed a trail, not totally sure if it was his, to what had been labeled as an abandoned missile silo in the Czech Republic. Off most maps, but Sharon had access to files that cross-referenced multiple old Hydra maps. Sam and Redwing had disabled the defense canons mounted on the outside, and Sharon had brought down the guards. Sam landed next to her as they entered the base. They encountered a few more guards, before they entered the first room.
In contrast with the rest of the building which was built out of gray concrete with bare bulbs hanging in the hallways, this room was a brightly lit lab. Multiple computers, screens, medical equipment and coolers were all spread around and evenly organized.
But the thing that caught Sam’s attention was on the center table, a single black and gold prosthetic arm, missing its owner.
Sam realistically knew removing the arm didn’t hurt Bucky, but he still felt sick to his stomach. It felt too much like pieces of the man were being spread around. Hydra had always treated Bucky as an item, but seeing what amounted to a casual disassembly made his blood boil.
Wires were hooked up to the arm, and Sharon was already moving towards one of the computers.
“They’re trying to analyze the code…but I think the commands are in Xhosa,” she grinned. “They haven’t gotten very far.”
“Well I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank God Hydra’s full of racists,” Sam mumbled.
Sharon gave a hum of agreement, before unhooking the arm from the wires. “Uh, this is awkward,” she said, bending it at the elbow and throwing it over her shoulder so she could draw her gun.
“This is weird,” Sam affirmed, but took point as they moved out of the room. He and Sharon ducked around a doorway as they heard more footsteps running in their direction. Sam reached out and clotheslined the first Hydra soldier, kicking his head to knock him out. A second and third soldier ran into view a moment later, but Sharon was moving quickly past him, and swatted the first man in the face with her baton. He stumbled past her, and Sam followed up with a punch that knocked him out, while Sharon leapt into the third man making him crash against the floor.
“Man, how’d these guys to Bucky so easily?” Sharon mumbled, taking the guns out of the holsters of the unconscious Hydra agents.
Sam walked past her, to a heavy steel door with no windows. It was freezing cold to the touch. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he pulled it open. It was even colder inside, and totally lightless. But Sam’s goggles picked up a low heat signature in the corner.
“Light,” he urged, and Sharon popped up behind him, shining a small flashlight into the space.
Sam recognized the black housing where the other man’s arm should be immediately. Bucky was hunched in a corner, curled in on himself, shirt and boots missing. His feet were manacled to the floor, and his right arm was behind his back. An IV line ran from behind his back to a bag hanging on the wall.
He didn’t react to the light shining over him.
Sam rushed forward, hands hovering over the other man. “Bucky? Buck, it’s Sam,” he said.
No reaction.
“His arm,” Sharon said.
Sam reached for the other man’s torso, to try and pull Bucky forward.
This turned out to be the wrong thing to do.
Bucky flinched, violently. There was the sound of flesh but also metal hitting the wall. Sam looked back towards Sharon but couldn’t see her eyes behind the flashlight. “Buck…please, I’m trying to help you. It’s Sam,” he tried again. There still wasn’t a reaction to show the other man had even heard him. Sharon moved slowly over to look at the bag.
“It’s a sedative,” she said softly.
“Bucky, I’m going to touch you so I can take this out, okay? You’ll feel better when it’s out, I promise.” He reached for Bucky again, but as soon as he touched Bucky’s right shoulder, Bucky flinched again, and fell to the floor. He tried to kick out at Sam, but his feet were still manacled, and they were pulled short before they could hit Sam. Bucky continued lying on the floor, shaking and silent. Sam could now see the IV line running into Bucky’s arm. He could also see Bucky’s entire right hand was swollen and bruised, covered in half-healed lacerations, like he had tried to pull it out of the manacle, breaking it along the way.
“I can pick that,” Sharon said, calm as ever. “But…you may need to hold him.” Sam nodded.
At the same time, Sharon reached down and Sam leaned on him heavily to keep him from moving. He thrashed wildly, still not emitting any noises, other than an occasional grunt as he tricked to kick out. Sharon swiftly removed the IV line and started to pick the lock around his wrist. Bucky was breathing heavily and for the first time looked up at Sam, baring his teeth.
“The sedative is going to start wearing off soon,” Sharon warned. “If-”
Sam heard a click, and then Bucky was trying to roll over and swinging his broken hand right at him.
“Buck!” Sam Shouted, dodging the bruised limb. The other man was struggling wildly, still eerily quiet. Sam heard more clicking and knew Bucky’s feet were loose. “I’m sorry about this,” Sam said, letting go of Bucky’s torso and grabbing his face.
Bucky went dead still, only sucking in harsh breaths through his nose, pupils dilated and eyes rolling wildly. “Bucky, it’s Sam and Sharon. Listen to me. You are safe. We are bringing you home. Bucky, please tell me you can hear me. You are safe. You’re okay.”
As he said the words, Bucky’s wild eyes finally found his, and there was a hint of recognition. Bucky swallowed thickly.
“That’s right, it’s Sam. Sharon’s here too. Are you with me, Bucky?”
Bucky’s brow furrowed. “…Sam?” he breathed.
Sam couldn’t stop the relieved grin from spreading across his face. “Yeah you asshole, it’s me. You alright? Well, other than your hand.”
“My…hand?”
Sam frowned. “Yeah, it’s broken. And uh, Sharon has your other one.” She moved behind Sam and waved it helpfully. Bucky still looked confused, so Sam gently let go of his face. Bucky seemed to take mental stock of things, and closed his eyes trying to even out his own breathing. Sam gave him a few inches. “Hey man, we gotta get out of here. Can you stand?”
“Stand?”
Sam’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like that Bucky had answered all of his questions with another question so far. He reached forward to try and help Bucky stand up, but Bucky flinched wildly again.
“Sorry,” they both said at the same time.
“No, no, its…I should have asked. Can I help you get up?” Bucky closed his eyes again, but then gave an affirmative nod. Sam reached his hands under the other man’s shoulders, pulling him upright. Despite the brief, frantic struggle, Bucky’s bodyheat still seemed alarmingly low, and he was holding his injured hand now against his stomach, where he curled protectively around it.
Sharon came over with his arm. “Bucky? Is it alright to reattach your arm?” She said holding the arm in plain view so he could see. He didn’t look up, just nodded and continued to lean into Sam’s hold. She slipped the arm up, and there was a soft whirring, and grinding as the plates shifted and went flush.
Bucky let out a sigh and flexed his fingers experimentally.
“You good?”
“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky growled. Sam hooked Bucky’s left arm around his shoulder, while Sharon took the lead. Bucky was walking, and even though he was shaky, he was still standing under his own power. With every moment, the wild-eyed, lost look was beginning to dissipate, and Bucky’s usual hateful glare was returning. Which was both comforting, and worrying to Sam.
Sam reached up with his left hand, and touched Bucky’s left shoulder lightly, where it was touching his own. “Hey man, you still with me?”
“Yeah,” Bucky grunted. “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”
Sharon glanced back briefly, but her expression didn’t change.
“Okay, well one thing at a time. How about medical attention first, huh?”
There was a huff, and Bucky glared at him. “Fine,” he mumbled. His eyes closed briefly and he shuddered.
Sam hesitated, and Bucky opened his eyes again.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Operation Desert Stare.” They made it out of the bunker and into the light again, Sharon darting ahead to start the engines of their car. When she was out of sight, Bucky sank down to the ground with a groan.
“Hey. Hey Bucky, I need to know you’re with me.”
The other man reached up with his right arm, clutching Sam’s forearm. Sam could feel minute tremors going through his body. He took a few deep breaths, and the tremors slowed. Sam felt Bucky give a soft squeeze, something less desperate and more reassuring.
“I’m here,” he said quietly. He looked back up at Sam and swallowed thickly, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. Sam helped him stand back up. “Thanks. I…mean that.”
Sam nodded, giving him a small smile in return. “Anytime. And I mean that.”