Bucky inhaled deeply.

Everything had just been a blur; time having passed on without him.

He focused on the cold rain crashing down from the heavens, the earthy smell in the air allowing him to ground himself to the moment. Even so, he could feel his mind slipping in and out, memories fleeting, having to remember who he was every couple of seconds.

"If I cross that line, I'm trusting you to do what needs to be done." Bucky knew the gravity of what he was asking of Sam. He would have asked it of Steve if he could of.

"It's not gonna come to that." Sam had been taken back by the request. He hid his emotions well, keeping a serious composure.

"Promise me!" Bucky yelled lightning striking somewhere in the sky. Bucky was a mess, hands shaking at his side, a burning in his head as if his brain were on fire.

Over Sam's shoulder Bucky spotted Sarah at the front door watching nervously. Guilt ate away inside of him. "Promise me." Bucky repeated in a whisper.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam spoke up over the rain fall. "That I'll put you down just like that?"

"Yes." Bucky was dead serious.

Sam looked down at the gun that had been forced into his hands. He could feel Sarah's eyes burrowing into the back of his head.

"I'll give you this." Sam glanced back up. "If it comes between you and a civilian. If you're that far gone. I'll do it." Sam promised. However, even as he spoke, he couldn't see himself following through with that promise. Possibly only saying it to humour the troubled man.

The tiny desk and chair were unsuitable for Sam's stature, he sat awkwardly as his fingers tapped away at the laptop keyboard, the rather high-tech device standing out in the rustic house.

Green text that he was inputting via the keyboard danced across the black screen, Sam having connected securely to a channel to contact Torres. He went on to explain in as little detail as he could to get the point across. Even though he trusted Torres, there was someone in deep, spilling government secrets. He needed to be careful.

Sam would never have predicted anyone would have come for Sarah, the idea of his family being in danger never having crossed his mind. Sam couldn't bare spare a thought to what could have transpired. If he had made any other choices leading up to this moment, or possibly never decided to return to Delacroix.

There were so many ways that Sarah's blood could have wound up on his hands. And it frightened him.

The rain had not relented in the time that had passed, the bullet-stricken window whistling as the wind intruded through the gap.

"I found what you asked for." Sarah's voice was sheepish. She placed the small pouch of medical supplies down on the desk beside him. It could have been a family heirloom it looked that old.

"This shouldn't have happened." Sam stood up, taking his sisters hand in a comforting way. "I'm sorry."

Sarah was holding back tears, lips struggling not to tremble.

"The boys are going to a friend's house after school, I'll go and pick them up, get out of town."

Sam nodded in agreement.

There was so much to process and so little time to do so.

He turned his attention to the first aid kit. Unzipping the bag there were modern supplies within.

With discomfort to himself, Sam pulled his soaked top off, skin cold adding to the unpleasantness.

"What's going on Sam?" Sarah demanded, her eyes looking between his face and shoulder wound.

"We were set up." Sam peeled off his awful attempt at a makeshift bandage. Sarah even hissing at the sight of the stab wound. "Whoever these people are, whoever there working for, there after Bucky."

Sam explained to Sarah what had transpired in the basement. Including the effects that little voice recorder had had on the old soldier.

"Jesus." Sarah had to sit herself down, head resting in her hands. "Why did they come here?" Sarah brought her head up, Sam in the process of pouring cleaning solution on his wound. It stung like a bitch, making his eyes water.

"They must have figured we caught on, that we would assume someone was playing for the wrong side somewhere in the government chain." It had been such a close call. Too close. "They made a calculated guess that I would reach out to you."

"What do they want with Bucky?" Sarah's list of questions had only just started to be ticked off.

"They don't want Bucky." Sam corrected his statement from earlier, fiddling with the tacky side of a bandage. "They want the Winter Soldier."

There was a pause in the conversation, Sarah taking a minute to really soak in what Sam was telling her.

"What now?" She then posed the question Sam had been asking himself the whole drive down from Canada. That time had at least given him the chance to reflect, to strategize.

"We wait for Torres to get back to me, hopefully he can secure us a flight to Wakanda. The Wakandans will be able to help." Sam was confident, whether it was a false confidence that was yet to be seen.

Sam finished wrapping his shoulder, pulling on a clean dark red jumper that Sarah had grabbed for him. He spotted Sarah's hand unknowingly go to her neck, fingers brushing over her skin before her hand dropped back down into her lap.

"It wasn't him." Sam assured, resting his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, keeping tears locked away.

It enraged Sam the fact that his family had been put in peril because of him. He needed to do better.

Having patched himself up Sam sat back down in front of the laptop. His message had been sent, the green text waiting patiently for a reply.

"He shouldn't be alone Sam." Sarah gathered up the first aid supplies Sam had used, returning them to the bag.

Sam eyed the screen, expecting a message back any second.

"I'll call you." Sarah added, seeing the resilience he had to leaving the laptop unoccupied.

Sam knew Sarah was right. He stood from the chair once more, his sister handing him the bag in her hands.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"I'm good." She was able to smile.

There were deep drag marks in the mud leading up to the workshop, the shed being to the side of the house. The muddy grooves had been created by Sam and Bucky when they hauled the bodies of the trespassers from the house, the chore having been messy.

Once the job was done Bucky had refused to return to the house. Sam hadn't fought him on his choice, not seeing what good would come of their disagreement. So, he decided to avoid conflict and left him behind.

Sam hurried through the continuous rain, gutters overflowing. He swiftly passed through the open shed door, entering the dry dusty workshop.

"That's not looking too good." Sam told Bucky.

Sam had walked in on Bucky inspecting the duct tape wrapped around his abdomen. He was standing in front of an old broken mirror, the shards of glass remaining distorting the reflection.

The duct tape had held its own, but the seal that had been made was starting to part from Bucky's skin, the vigorous movement in defending him and Sarah from the intruders having been too much.

Blood now seeped through at the edges of the tape, Bucky hovered a hand over it, having been in thought when Sam had entered.

"Had worse." Bucky dropped his top down, facing Sam in the low light. He went to collect his blue jacket back up from a workbench.

"Here." Sam tossed the first aid bag at Bucky, making him catch it, forcing him to stop in his attempt to reclaim his jacket. "You know what to do with that?"

"I've been shot before." Bucky assured.

"I'm sorry about that by the way." Sam recalled the events that had resulted in Bucky's injury.

The bog would have claimed Sam if he hadn't made the choice. Didn't make the choice any easier. Sam had shot blindly from under the water, Bucky having just been a blurry haze above. He could have killed Bucky.

"You did what you had to do." Bucky glanced away from him, eyes finding the corner of the room. There was a green tarp over where they had laid the bodies, concealing the foul act from the world.

Sam could tell Bucky wasn't doing alright, he was twitchy, on edge. Eye's not focusing for long, head causing him visible pain.

Bucky placed the first aid kit beside his jacket on the bench, before leaning back against the wooden table.

"What ever the Wakandans did before, they can do it again." Sam was hopeful, he had to be.

"And what makes you think they will help?" Bucky was looking down, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as he rode a wave of pain.

"You handed Zemo over yourself." Sam contradicted him, understanding what Bucky was referring too.

Zemo's prison break hadn't been on the agenda to begin with, nor was it ideal, but they had needed him after all to stop Karli. Everything had mostly worked out. Bucky having tracked the baron down after he slipped from their hands, led the Dora Milaje straight to him to make amends.

The last thing Sam had heard about the baron, was that he was locked up in the Raft, the maximum-security prison not one he would be escaping.

"Yeah well, they still weren't too happy about the whole situation." Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, the searing in his skull never halting its assault.

"You just need to hang in there." Sam could see Bucky was fighting, that he hadn't given up despite what he had been telling him.

"I can't trust my own mind Sam." Bucky's words were emotionally charged.

"I know." Sam stepped towards the wounded soldier. "You've gotten through this before. You can do it again."

Sam approached the workbench, collecting the bag and jacket up in his grasp.

"Come on." Sam gestured for Bucky to follow.

Bucky swallowed nervously, the choice causing conflict inside.

He came to a conclusion.

Having been leant against the workbench Bucky stood straight, supporting his weight fully on his own. He then followed Sam from the shed, leaving the silent dead behind.

Sam was back at his post watching the computer screen.

Sarah had left not long ago to collect the boys. She had packed light; Sam having hugged her tightly before her departure. It had been hard letting her go.

He knew he needed to do more for her, to be there for her. Sam had a desperate need to make up for lost time. Five years she had to go on without him, for Sam it had been as simple as going to sleep one second and waking up the next with no indication of how much time had passed. Even now he was still struggling to wrap his head around it all.

He spared a second of thought to if Bucky felt a similar way, the passage of time and the suddenness of it. Sam quickly reminded himself that the soldier had spent years in Cryo freeze, being pulled in and out of stasis to act out his duties as the Winter Soldier when Hydra saw fit.

Sam's mind having wandered to Bucky he spun the chair round to look at the man. He was sitting on the couch, stiff as anything. Hands clutching each other for comfort.

Bucky had been stubborn and declined Sam's aid in fixing up his wound. To be honest the wound was faring well with no sign of infection, the super soldier serum running through the old man's veins working overtime to heal him.

Bucky having done an adequate job; Sam had found him a top to wear. The dark grey long sleeves were just a little too tight around his arms. It would do.

Upon their return to the house Sarah had understandably kept her distance, Bucky had respected that, having sat quietly in the front room while he tended to his wound.

Sam knew Sarah just needed time. It wasn't the first time the soldier had tried to kill Sam, it had been a few years of course, but the threat of his life at the soldier's hands was still familiar.

On one hand Sam knew that Bucky in a way was the Winter Soldier. On the other hand, he recognised that his mind wasn't his own, his past experiences having been wiped creating a blank slate for Hydra to mould. It was a problematic situation when it came to the legality of it all, but the government had found it in their heart to understand the man's plight.

Bucky had been pardoned. That didn't mean he didn't forget.

Sam sympathised for Bucky; he really did. But sometimes he didn't help himself. Pushing people away, not taking that hand of aid when he really needs it. Bucky couldn't trust people and Sam couldn't count that against him.

A ping from the laptop stopped Sam's train of thought. He turned the swivel chair back round to address the notification.

"Torres?" Bucky asked from behind. The sound notification having caught his attention too.

"Yeah." Sam read the lines of text that had been sent in response. He checked each line twice, just be sure he read what he thought it had said. "He's set up a pickup. Got coordinates."

Authors Notes

I know its late again :( I really am trying to keep to every two days XD Some chapters are just harder than others. I spent a lot of time planning ahead mainly, deciding where the story is going and all. I hope that's ok.
Anyway, hope the chapter was alright and I will see you soon!