"Look, you can't prove he had anything to do with Zemo breaking out of prison." Sam eyed the Sheriff. He wasn't lying, technically. He knew Buck was behind the breakout, but he also knew the former Winter Soldier had been careful. If they could've proved something, they would have arrested him a while ago "This is all political because of that stupid video."

The older man, Sheriff Watson, had a face worn with deep lines and dark brown eyes. He sat behind his desk, an active security monitor set on top a table perpendicular to his desk. Sam's gaze kept darting between the Sheriff and Bucky on the screen. His friend was sitting on the bench, staring at the wall, so still that, if not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, Sam would've thought the video frozen.

"It's not up to me to prove anything," The Sheriff leaned back in his chair. "I'm just providing the holding cell until the feds show up.

"Look," Sam eyed the monitor again, "I—" his words caught in his throat as motion on the screen drew his attention.

Bucky toppled sideways, slamming into the wall. His chest heaved, his shoulders shook, and he buried his face in the elbow of his right arm. There was no sound, and for that, Sam was grateful. He wasn't sure he could take hearing his friend's torment. He had known the Bucky for years – not as well as Steve had – but he'd seen the guy in some truly hairy situations, stuff that would have broken almost anyone else. The only other time he'd seen Bucky actually cry was back at the cabin, after that dream and the run-through of the code words. Sam still hadn't been able to pry the details of that nightmare from his friend.

But there Bucky was on the screen, alone, broken, looking like a man who'd finally hit the wall. Bucky was usually so adept at stoicism that it was often easy to forget that he was a man who had experienced profound trauma, more trauma than perhaps any human being had ever experienced and lived through. Looking at him now, Sam saw a man who had been repeatedly and brutally tormented by a sick, terrible world and finally reached his limit.

The Sheriff noticed Barnes, too. He leaned forward in his chair and took a breath. "Your friend's going for the psych angle, huh?"

The sudden rage took Sam by surprise. His arm lashed out, sending the items on top of the desk flying. The Sheriff jumped to his feet, his hand going to his side arm. "You want to end up in a cell next to him, Cap?"

Sam was so furious he shook. He eyed the man as he tried to calm himself. Breathe. Slowly. In and out. He'd do no good to Bucky if he found himself locked up. He straightened and pointed at the monitor, but before he could say another word, he saw Bucky rise to his feet, his wet eyes scanning the area briefly before settling on the camera.

Bucky raised a hand and gave a two-finger wave at the lens, then turned around, pulled back his vibranium arm, and punched a hole in the wall. He followed through, bulldozing his way through the brick and out to the parking lot.

"Shit!" The Sheriff was out of his office, yelling, "Prisoner's escaped! South parking lot."

Sam stared at the monitor for a second more, eyeing the large hole in the wall and the sunlight pouring inside the small cell. His chest went tight. Even if they could get Bucky out of the Berlin mess, there was now the jail break-caught on camera. There'd be no way around this.

Christ, Bucky, what have you done?

He forced his gaze away from the screen and ran outside, thankful that he'd brought the suit. His car was parked just past the throng of media vans, but fortunately there weren't any reporters present. He figured they were all on the other side of the building trying to cover the chase. Sam opened his trunk, pulled out the case, and suited up.

-0- -0- -0-

Bucky pushed himself close to his physical limits the second his feet hit the parking lot pavement. He sailed over cars and across the street before anyone had time to mount a pursuit. By the time he heard the distant shout of voices, he was far ahead of his pursuers.

He knew they'd bring air support and trackers, so he did what he was trained to do—evade capture and advance the mission. He veered toward the most rugged of the terrain, seeking heavy vegetation and uneven ground. He could travel much faster than his pursuers, and where he was going, they'd have a hell of a time following. If he could stay hidden from the air, he'd be miles away before they could mount an effective perimeter.

-0- -0- -0-

Sam launched into the air, putting the goggles in search mode for heat signatures. He saw the glowing figures of the deputies and reporters, but they would be far behind the super soldier.

He tried to get into his friend's head. Where would Bucky be heading? Knowing how well-versed Bucky was in disappearing, he was almost certain the super soldier would have instantly changed course, probably following the most difficult terrain possible to avoid capture. It would have heavy vegetation and be onerous to navigate either on foot or by vehicle. Delacroix terrain included ample bays, bayous, and marshes, so Bucky would no doubt also have to swim. That would slow him down.

Sam veered to the left toward the area with denser vegetation. "Red Wing, broadest search parameters, human heat signatures moving faster than 20 miles per hour."

The display on his goggles sprang to life, showing a solitary, fast-moving humanoid object to the left. Red Wing clocked the figure's pace at 62 MPH. Bingo. Given the uneven terrain and the water Bucky had no doubt had to traverse, Sam was impressed. He shook his head in wonder. Bucky definitely held back a lot physically after his Winter Soldier days. Was that his way of trying not to remind people of who he used to be, Sam wondered, or more out of necessity to avoid killing his opponents?

Sam increased thrust and headed like a missile toward the area, mindful that he'd be visible from the ground. He decreased his elevation, sticking just above the vegetation now that he'd gotten a lock on Bucky. There was no use clueing in the reporters or law enforcement to Bucky's whereabouts. That would turn things even uglier.

In two minutes, he was above the man. He could see him with the naked eye, and Bucky glanced up at him but kept his pace. Sam flew ahead of his friend, spun around, and then landed hard and fast 35 feet ahead of him. He was thankful Bucky chose to skid to a halt to avoid a collision rather than simply veer off and keep running—and as he did, his feet slammed into the soil, sending up chunks of earth, to stop his momentum.

Sam raised his hands. "Stop this, man! What are you doing?"

Bucky stood in front of him, soaking wet, his breathing remarkably steady for someone who'd just run almost half a marathon in about ten minutes. "The tablet for the time travel device…can you get it to me and show me how to use it?"

Sam didn't know what answer he'd expected from Bucky, but that sure as hell wasn't it. "Have you gone crazy? Don't tell me your plan is to escape by time traveling."

Bucky shook his head. "Not exactly. When I was in 2014, I had an idea, but I dropped it. Now seems as good a time as any to pick it up again. I've got nothing to lose."

"You've got everything to lose, man. You know the evidence against you is weak. You were careful. We might have been able to get you out of this mess, but now you've made it much worse. Punching through a wall and breaking out of jail?"

"I'm going to go back to the final battle with Thanos. I'll know where to be at just the right moment to grab the gauntlet with the stones and use it. Stark won't die, but Thanos and his army will. Tony's little girl will grow up with her father. Pepper will have her husband. The world will still have Tony Stark."

Sam felt the hot sting of tears but pushed them back. Was Bucky so broken that he saw killing himself as an acceptable solution? "But it won't have Bucky Barnes."

Bucky gave the softest, saddest smile Sam had seen in a long time. "It'll be trading up."

Jesus, Bucky. The man in front of him needed way more therapy than he'd gotten. "You can't change our timeline, remember? Isn't that how it works? You'll only create a new one."

Bucky nodded. "I know, but at least there will be a better one – one with Stark, and if I can hold out, I might even able be able to use the stones to do more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Bring back Yori's son and a few others. All the people I've killed recently enough that they might still have a life to come back to…I know what it's like to wake up to an unrecognizable world where everyone you know is dead. I won't do that to anyone."

Sam studied his friend. Just a few minutes ago, Bucky was sobbing in a solitary prison cell. Now, there was a firm glint in his eye and determination on his face. How he could go from one extreme to the other in so short a time baffled Sam.

"Look, man, you're talking cr—" he stopped himself, deciding it best not to use that word at that particular moment. "It's…suicide. That's not the answer."

Bucky looked away and took a slow, shuddering breath. "It's not like I want to die," he returned his gaze to Sam, "but I won't spend the rest of my life caged in the raft…next to ZEMO! And I won't evade responsibility for Berlin…for getting a man killed. I know Zemo is a killer. I've known it since Vienna. He's never hesitated to kill to further his agenda, and I gave him the opportunity to kill again. I traded a life for the mission."

"So you think you deserve this, man? You don't." Sam moved closer to Bucky, hoping to break through that stubborn self-hatred, but he stopped when Bucky tensed, looking like he would bolt at the drop of a leaf. "Has it occurred to you that it takes more than a couple of years to recover from the type of trauma you experienced over the past 80 years? Recovery is never a straight line. It's full of detours and set-backs. Everyone messes up along the way, but you have to push forward to get to the other side. Yeah, Berlin was a bad call, but I was there with you. I went along with it. The stakes were pretty damn high. An army of super soldiers could change the world. With how unstable things are after the blip, that kind of army could conceivably take over the world. Given the circumstances, they might consider -"

"You sound like you're talking to Walker," Bucky interrupted. "They might consider the extenuating circumstances of why I helped a killer take another life." He shook his head. "Every time I've tried to fight for something larger than myself, I've failed. Every time I've run, people have gotten hurt. Look what happened after Vienna. A man was paralyzed. You and the others spent almost two years on the run. Sharon gave up her family, everything she knew. I'm not worth all that, and I won't keep making the same mistakes."

"First, we all made our decisions with eyes wide open, just like you did when you followed Steve back in '44. Secondly, you are running again. Choose a different path."

Bucky seemed to consider his words for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Then he shook his head firmly. "I'm running toward something. I need to do this, and after it's done, one way or another, Klein and all the others I've hurt or killed over the years will have justice. The math is a no brainer-billions of lives in exchange for one messed up guy from Brooklyn."

"Buck—"

"I'm doing this with or without your help, Sam, or I'll die trying."

Looking at Bucky, Sam believed him, and that belief brought a wave of sorrow that stole his breath. The man before him was probably going to be the next friend he lost, one way or another, but he couldn't let him go it alone.

"Okay, Bucky. What do you need me to do?"

"Just give me the tablet and show me how to use it."

Sam nodded. "What about the platform and the device? It hasn't yet been transported to Stark Enterprises."

Bucky's brow furrowed. "I thought it went last night?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Slight delay for security arrangements. It's scheduled for departure tomorrow at noon."

"So it's—"

"Still at the cabin, but under Stark security."

Bucky sighed. "That makes things easier. How much?"

"Electronic surveillance and two guards, Happy's one of them."

"That's it?"

"Only a few people know what's there. Too many guards would be more of a risk, and since the cabin is so out of the way, we thought it safest this way."

Bucky nodded. "Thanks. Get me the tablet, I'll take care of the rest."

"No—"

Bucky cut him off Sam's protest. "I've dragged you down enough. You've sacrificed far too much for me. It stops now. You've got Sarah and the boys…and the world needs you as Captain America. I don't want to have to add your name to my list of amends," Bucky paused, his eyes suddenly sad, desperate. "Please."

The distant sound of chopper blades cut through the air. Sam cursed under his breath. "Red Wing, what's incoming?"

His display showed a chopper five miles to the East. Bucky had obviously heard it, too. His head was tilted up, his eyes scanning.

"Okay, Buck, we'll do it your way, with a caveat. You disable the electronic surveillance first. I'll take out the guards gently," he raised an arm, ever thankful to the Wakandans for their donation. "There are two cameras set up on the front porch and two more at the tree line. They're set for alerts, so you'll have to stay off their radar to disable them. The signal loss will probably alert Stark Enterprises, so we'll be short on time. But, with the surveillance out, that'll keep me out of the legal fray, okay?"

Buck hesitated for a moment, apparently considering the risk. "Agreed. Who knows about the cabin?"

"Just Pepper and a few Stark folks."

Bucky gave a curt nod. "Be there at midnight. Make sure you're not followed."

"This fancy Wakanda tech will take care of that."

"Can you do one thing for me?"

"What do you need?"

"Check the cabin in the days before Thanos' attack. Find out if it was occupied. Don't use your computer or phone. Use someone else's"

Sam nodded. "Will do."

Bucky managed a smile. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam shook his head, a hint of anger flashing across his face. "Don't thank me for helping you do this, man. Now, go before they get too close."

Bucky needed no more prodding. He bolted passed Sam and disappeared into the brush.