Notes: Welcome to this fic, where the plot is weak and the details don't matter because honestly, I just wanted to write a fun story about road trippin'. If that's your thing…Enjoy. (Very canon-divergent because I'm a nooby casual fan, so don't expect lore accuracy.)

{ 1. Breakout }

S.H.I.E.L.D probably thought they were doing the world a favor by capturing The Soldier. That by scrubbing Hydra and the military and Steve from his head, they were doing him a favor as well.

Steve didn't see it that way. Not when they had done it all without The Soldier's consent, snatching him away from Steve by force like they knew better than him or some shit. They were no better than Hydra, exploiting his best friend for their own gains.

"He can't be trusted," they told Steve. "This is for his own good. It's for the good of the world."

Fuck that. The negotiations were going nowhere. If Steve wanted his friend back, he had to tear him out of their hands the way S.H.I.E.L.D had torn him away from Steve.

xXxXxXx

"Road trippin' with my two favorite allies,

We're fully loaded, we got snacks and supplies,

It's time to leave this town, it's time to steal away,

Let's go get lost anywhere in the U.S.A."

-'Road Trippin', Red Hot Chili Peppers

xXxXxXx

The getaway car was abandoned miles ago. Steve and Sam pushed it off a shrouded embankment and hoofed it through a forest. Bucky followed. He was in questionable shape, but he could do that. Walk and follow Steve. That was about it. His legs came to life some time during the drive, thank Christ, because when they first pulled him off that exam table in the facility, Sam was sure they'd be lugging his 240-pound catatonic ass around on their backs.

Steve led the way with a big yellow flashlight. He periodically glanced at the compass on his wristwatch. They stumbled through ferns and roots in the dark. It was getting cold. Steve and probably Bucky weren't bothered, but Sam was beginning to shiver. He trailed behind Bucky to keep him in his sights, though he doubted he was in any shape—mentally or physically—to slip away from them. He didn't even have shoes on his feet.

Supposedly S.H.I.E.L.D had done a "hard reset", whatever that entailed. Steve sure as hell didn't know, but he knew he didn't like the sound of it. Bucky hadn't said a word since his rescue four hours prior, his eyes hardly focused and he was totally disengaged from his surroundings.

Sam and Steve found him strapped to a table in S.H.I.E.L.D's lab. How long had he been there? What else had they done to him? Steve didn't want to think about it. He'd been bared to the world, skin stitched up along his spine from the crack of his ass to the nape of his neck. His metal arm was gone, leaving a smooth vibranium stump at his shoulder.

Sam couldn't get a reaction from Bucky once they shoved him in the car and took off for the sticks. He was like a dead man breathing until they briefly stopped at a drug store, where they clothed him in black track pants, a grey sweatshirt and a baseball cap.

Technically, Steve clothed him while Sam took his place in the driver's seat. Bucky finally blinked his dry, sticky eyes as Steve pulled his arm through a sleeve, leaving the other to dangle loosely at his side. Steve was saying things like "It's okay," and "You're safe now," and "We got you, Pal."

And then they were moving again, but this time Steve was sitting beside him instead of Sam. Bucky looked at Steve when he spoke, gaze bleary and disoriented but dark brows furrowed as if he was trying to understand, fighting his way out of a daze. He didn't respond, but Steve kept talking to him anyway. He said things like, "I'm sorry," and "We're going to sort this out."

And then Sam said things like, "He's engaging a little, that's good," and "Hope he's walking by the time we step out of this car."

And he was. He was walking behind Steve but in front of Sam, through a forest and stepping over dirt and little sticks and rocks that stung his soles. The pain barely registered. He was wearing an expression now, almost human, not like the vacant stare he'd worn earlier. Sam watched him finally acknowledge his surroundings, watched as his head slowly turned about to examine the towering trunks.

"Almost there," Steve told them. He and Sam were disguised as civilians and his shield was hidden inside his backpack—the one piece of gear he was certain didn't have a tracker somewhere inside. They left their uniforms and Sam's wings in the car, now submerged in stagnant water off the side of a country road. They could be replaced easily enough when all of this was settled. When S.H.I.E.L.D agreed to treat Bucky like a human being.

Until then, they had to get lost.

xXxXxXx

The trio eventually stepped out of the forest and onto another road. Stars twinkled in the black sky above as the flashlight guided them down the neglected asphalt. They walked for two more miles.

Then Bucky collapsed.

"Shit," Sam muttered and lurched forward. He was already pulling Bucky to his feet as Steve turned around, shining the light over them. Bucky's face was a black shadow behind his hair, still long and unkempt just as Hydra left it. It did a good job of obscuring his identity, if that's what they were going for.

"Just a couple more miles, Man, come on!" Sam grunted as he slung Bucky's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him upright. Bucky just let out a long groan, head rolling loosely on his neck. It was the first sound they heard from him so far. Steve moved in, setting the flashlight on the ground before lifting Bucky bridal-style.

Steve paused for a moment, frowning down at his long-haired friend. Sam picked up the flashlight and led the way. He noticed Steve's hesitation and queried, "What's up?" Steve opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. He began following Sam and mumbled,

"He's so light."

A brief chuckle from Sam. "To you, maybe. Bet that arm alone was fifty pounds. Had a hell of a time getting him to the car even without it."

Steve sighed through his nostrils. "They did something to him in there. Did you see the stitches on his back?"

"Stitches?" Sam glanced back at him. Steve nodded.

"I think they took out more than his arm. He…He needs to rest, Sam."

"We can't stop." Sam frowned, pressing on several paces ahead. He was slightly out of breath and the pits of his shirt were soaked all the way through to his hoodie. "We gotta keep moving, at least 'til we reach Tony."

"He needs medical attention," Steve insisted, plodding slowly behind with Bucky lying half-conscious in his arms. "Give me the flashlight."

"You can't do a thing for him that Tony couldn't do better. The sooner we—"

"Sam! I'm not asking!" Steve barked. Bucky flinched with a start and Sam froze, grip tightening on the flashlight.

When he turned, he saw Bucky sitting beside Steve's feet. The blond man shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Then he gently pulled off Bucky's sweatshirt and guided him to lay on his belly on top of it. Sam let out a long sigh and approached the scene, holding the flashlight steady to expose Bucky bare, bloody back.

It made Sam wince, seeing the stain soaked through Bucky's cast-aside shirt and the back of his pants. He hadn't even noticed it in the dark, and he'd been walking behind him the entire time.

"Stitches came open," Steve determined as he fished a small first-aid kit from his backpack. Of course he thought to pack one, Sam thought. Boy scout.

Sam nudged Bucky's sweatshirt with his sneaker. "Damn. That's a lot of blood, Steve." He paused, chewing his lip. Then he cautiously suggested, "Maybe, uh…Maybe he needs to go back to—"

"No, no way in hell! Just hold that light steady, will you?"

"I'm just saying…" Sam flashed a palm. "He was obviously in the middle of some kinda medical procedure when we grabbed him. Maybe we should have left him, let him recover a little."

"Yeah, well," Steve sighed as he closed the wound with gauze and medical tape, "Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it?" Bucky squirmed, gnashing his teeth and clawing at the jacket beneath him. Stifled groans squeaked from his throat.

"I know, Pal. I'm sorry. Try to hold still, okay?" Steve said softly, but his fear casted bold shadows on the facets of his face. Sam crouched with the flashlight resting on his knees, watching Steve pack the wound with the scant supplies they had. The stench of blood was thick in the air. There was another scent there too, like an auto garage.

The job was half-done when blue headlights pierced the darkness on the horizon. A car was coming over the hill. Sam bolted to his feet and whispered sharply, "We couldn't look more suspicious. Let's just get moving."

"He's still bleeding," Steve told him stubbornly. Bucky's eyes squeezed shut and he let out another groan as the blond man fussed with his wound. Sam raised his voice.

"They're gonna call the cops, Steve! We have to go! At least get him on his feet or something!"

Steve turned to the road. The car was quickly approaching, but it was still too far to see them through the darkness. He looked down at Bucky, lying half-naked on the ground. Then at his own hands, covered in blood.

That's right. Everyone had a phone in their pocket these days.

Steve helped Bucky to his feet. The wound was still leaking, but it wasn't gushing like it had been. He should be okay long enough to get him to Tony. Steve turned his back to Bucky and bent his knees, hooking the brunet's arm over his shoulder.

"Climb on, Buck. We'll get you fixed up, don't worry. You're gonna be fine." He didn't know if Bucky could comprehend even half of what he was saying, but the assurance made him feel better regardless.

Bucky made a half-hearted effort to climb on Steve's back. He lifted his leg and Steve took care of the rest, hooking his hands under his knees.

"What about his shirt?" queried Sam. Steve tipped his head towards the woods.

"Hide it."

They clicked off the flashlight and backed into the darkness of the trees as the car passed, Sam stuffing the bloodied garment under a fern.

Then Sam shouldered Steve's backpack and they continued down the road. Bucky was dead weight against Steve's back, his one arm hooked loosely around his neck. His head was draped over the blond's shoulder, breath hot and foul. He reeked of raw meat and antiseptic, of steel and oil and other things human beings probably shouldn't smell like.

xXxXxXx

Steve and Sam jogged for the next 2.5 miles, ducking into the brush whenever a car passed. They were a sad sight by the time they reached the gas station, covered in sweat, dirt, sap, and blood. Steve smelled like a gym bag and Bucky smelled like a murder.

The station had been abandoned for years, sitting across the street from an equally abandoned lumber mill. These were the only buildings around for miles, no doubt in their minds that they were in the right place. A rusty blue van was parked beside one of the gas pumps. As Steve and Sam cautiously approached, the engine roared to life and the lights flicked on.

"That's him," Steve panted slightly. He hurried to the van with Sam in tow, stopping to peer through the driver's window as it rolled down to expose a familiar smirking face. The smirk quickly dropped and a crease appeared between Tony's brows when the trio got closer.

"Oh, jeez. You're all bloody and gross." He rolled his eyes. "And I just bought this baby!"

Sam looked vaguely disgusted as he rounded the front of the vehicle. A splotch of brown rust covered the hood like a continent. "Really, Tony? We're on the run, and you go out and get the rustiest, sketchiest piece of shit you can find? This thing's a pig-magnet!"

Tony shrugged, scraping his nail against the long crack in the windshield. "Five hundo, cash only, no questions. Can't beat that."

Sam shook his head as he yanked the sliding door open. "Might as well paint 'free candy' on the side…Jesus, and it smells like mold!"

"It'll do, as long as it runs," decided Steve. He climbed inside, where the back seats had been completely removed. Bucky detached from his back and collapsed on the crusty old upholstery. Steve pulled his friend's head into his lap and told Tony, "Bucky's in bad shape. We need to get to a secure location ASAP!"

"Keep your pants on, Spangles." Tony reached into his coat pocket and waggled a little rectangular device in the air. It was no bigger than a USB stick with a tiny screen on one end. "Gotta do a little bug spray before we go anywhere." Steve quirked an eyebrow, arching his body slightly—protectively—over Bucky.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Chip-scanner," Tony replied. "Detects tracking chips, nano-bugs, bombs, that sorta thing. Painless, I promise. Just hold still."

With that, he clicked a button on the device and a blue ray of light beamed forth, slowly scanning over Steve and Bucky. Steve winced as it passed his eyes. The device suddenly beeped, startling all but Tony. He dragged a palm over his face as he exited the vehicle.

"Ugh, please be a phone or something…" he sighed.

Tony rounded the van and climbed in beside Steve and Bucky. Sam followed and stood a couple feet away, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of the interior. He mentioned, "We ditched our gear a few miles back. We don't even have phones."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he blurted, "Oh, I have a watch! Think it's…?"

"If it's you or Sam, I'll eat my hat," said Tony, who was indeed wearing a green military cap with sunglasses resting on the brim. "I'll bet a cool million it's Barnes', right in his Hydra-shoulder."

Tony kneeled beside Bucky and hovered the device over him from toe to head. Bucky barely acknowledged him, closing his eyes and quivering against Steve. His skin was pale, sockets dark around his eyes. The bottoms of his bare feet were nearly black with filth and glistening with spots of blood where sharp rocks had nicked his soles.

The device beeped again as it passed over Bucky's forearm. Some text appeared on the screen and Tony squinted at it, then cocked an eyebrow and passed it over the metal shoulder several times. It didn't beep again.

"Damn it," Tony muttered. Steve tipped his head at the device and asked,

"What does it say?"

Tony tucked the gadget back in his pocket and planted his hands on his thighs.

"Good news and bad news," he began. "Bad news is: There's a chip in his arm. But the good news is: it's basic S.H.I.E.L.D tech and it's easy to deal with. I bet he had Hydra trackers out the wazoo when they took him in." He gestured to Bucky's missing arm. "Trackers, explosives, and who knows what else. Looks like they did all the hard work for us and dug 'em out, didn't get a chance to rig him with anything decent of their own before you guys crashed the party."

"Sooo…" Sam swiped at his neck. "How do we get this thing out of him?"

Steve quickly turned to Tony and said, "Drugs won't work on him. He's like me. He…He feels everything, it'll—" But Tony waved a dismissive hand and assured him,

"I'm not takin' any more chunks out of your boyfriend. The chip stays where it is. We can use it to our advantage."

Steve's arms tightened around Bucky's shoulders ever so slightly as he furrowed his brow. He carried a warning in his tone when he said, "He doesn't want all these gadgets in him! Hydra, SHIELD, the military—they all used him like a tool and he's not—"

Tony interrupted him once more. "Hey, hey, chill out. It's not like that. I'm saying we can use the chip to screw with SHIELD. Scramble their own signal just enough to keep them off the trail." He paused, gaze drifting towards the window before settling back on Steve. "Might buy us some time while Pepper negotiates something. You know they're going to drag it out."

Steve chewed his lip, looking down at the brunet crumpled on the floor. His face was twisted in pain, breaths coming short and shallow like a wounded animal. Blood was seeping from his back, over his ribs and onto the upholstery. Finally, Steve let out a long sigh and said, "I appreciate this, Tony. You're under no obligation to help me, and I know you have a lot at stake here. I'm," he shifted a bit, "I'm sorry if I'm being difficult. He's all I have left from…You know."

Tony shot him a single nod of understanding. He replied, "Yes, well. As the most noble and benevolent of Earth's heroes, I'm just doing my job, Sir."

Sam rolled his eyes and Steve cracked the tiniest grin. Tony clapped his hands together and declared, "Alright, time to scramble that chip before SHIELD rolls up on us. And uh, it won't hurt. Promise."

xXxXxXx