The first Sam knew was the sharp stab of the needle and the odd feeling as the liquid injected itself into his bloodstream. Pain radiated from the area as he felt it begin to seep into his muscles and run through his blood. He felt like his veins had flooded with molten lava as his muscles and body seized in resistance. Sam screamed but nobody could hear his agony, he prayed for death for so long he lost track of time. As the burning subsided, he felt like he was being pricked with a billion needles all over his skin, starting in his arm and spreading as his heart pumped his blood harder and faster around his body.

He didn't know what he had been injected with, but he knew it couldn't be good.

Clenching his jaw and groaning with the effort, Sam pushed himself to his feet, knowing he needed to get out of the building he was in. Whoever had injected him would no doubt want to see what effect it had, if any other than death and Sam was in no mood to become some asshole's pin cushion. All of this would be moot however, if he didn't make it out and survive, so he dropped the shield in an attempt to conserve energy and ran.

He didn't have a particular path or end location in mind, he just wanted out of the facility he and Bucky had been doing recon in. The fire reignited in his blood as he felt the cold night air on his skin. His speech slurred as he tried to command his wings to get him out of there. All he could manage was to activate Red Wing. The drone hovered, scanning him before deciding the best course of action. Sam's world went black as the facility shrunk into the distance, blending into the surrounding darkness.

Two months later

Sarah Wilson watched her boys in the yard from the kitchen window with sadness. Two months ago, their uncle had disappeared from the face of the Earth, again, only this time he was on his own. Nobody else had disappeared along with him, though just like before, there hadn't been a body to confirm whether or not he was still alive.

Behind her the door opened and Bucky Barnes joined her in the kitchen. Her brother's partner, in so many ways, had been a tremendous help during Sam's disappearance. He'd been infiltrating enemy bases and tearing apart rogue groups looking for Sam, but as time dragged on, the less optimistic Sarah felt about having Sam come home again.

As she thought of before, Sarah felt another wave of sadness. Once they'd gotten over themselves in the beginning, after all the chaos of the Flag Smashers, Sam and Bucky's relationship had progressed from shy crushes to serious partners thinking of getting their own place to stop crowding the family home. Bucky fit in with their family perfectly. He wasn't afraid to pitch in, he adored and was adored by Cass and AJ and he loved Sam wholeheartedly. Sam hadn't been this happy in years, probably since before he lost Riley. Things had finally been looking up for Sam and then he had gone missing.

She didn't need to turn and face Bucky to know his shirt was charred or shot to ruins, or that his face conveyed the sympathy and regret of another failed search. Sarah felt a tear roll over her cheeks and caught herself before she started to fully cry. She heard him take the notebook from the top of the cupboards and cross off another name of another organisation.

"Sorry Sarah," he mumbled, breaking the silence.

Sarah sighed. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. I don't know where Joaquín is getting these leads, but none of them are getting us anywhere." He sighed, "I really hate myself for thinking this, but I think he's hiding something. I'm gonna tail him for a week or so, see if he gives anything away." Bucky turned to leave but Sarah whipped around.

"Don't even think about leaving this house in that state," she warned him. "Shower, food, sleep, in that order." She told him, heading to the fridge to start warming him up some leftovers as he quietly agreed and went to do as he was told.

Bucky had been trailing Torres for a little over a week when he thought he had a lead. Every two days, Joaquín would go to an address in the outer city, go down what looked like a basement fire escape with groceries and leave a short time later empty handed. Bucky knew it could be nothing, Torres could be delivering to an older relative or neighbour, but in his gut, Bucky knew it was something else.

He watched him enter the apartment and waited for him to come back out. When he did, Bucky was waiting, leaning against the wall.

"So when were you planning on telling his sister he's alive?" Bucky didn't smirk as Joaquín almost leapt out of his skin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to laugh it off.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Seriously, I don't know, this is my grandmother's place, she's been struggling with the stairs recently."

"Your grandmother is in an assisted living facility." Bucky countered.

"My other grandma."

"You mean the one whose funeral Sam went to with you? Joaquín, is Sam in there?" He gave a short nod. "Please let me see him."

"He's… He's not in a good way, he doesn't want to be seen like he is. He made me promise."

"Of course he did," Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Torres, we can do this the easy way, where you let me in, or when you leave, I can force my way in. Which is it gonna be?" Torres considered for a moment before reaching into his pocket for the keys.

"I'll take you down, but Bucky, he won't want any physical contact, that's if he even agrees to see you. Got it?"

Bucky agreed and watched as Torres opened the door and led him inside. He followed down a narrow, damp corridor of exposed brick and concrete, to a door with a gate over it. Torres unlocked the gate and looked uncomfortable at the security measures.

"Sam insisted to keep people safe," he muttered, knowing Bucky would hear him.

"What happened to him?"

"I think that's something he should tell you himself."

Inside Torres locked the door behind them and then Bucky heard the beautiful deep voice he'd been missing for the past two months.

"I knew you'd be back, you always forget something," Sam called as he rounded the corner, looking down at his phone screen, freezing as he looked up and laid eyes on Bucky. "What's he doing here?" Sam asked, folding his arms and posing the way he had once talked to whatever villain of the week they were facing.

Bucky felt overwhelmed by several conflicting emotions.

He wanted to cheer, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and rant at the 'read' but not replied to texts, the ignored phone calls that were sent to voicemail, he wanted to ask why and he wanted to hold Sam and kiss him to make up for all the lost moments they had missed. He wanted to know what Sam meant by 'what was he doing there'. Had he been injured? Had he hit his head and forgotten Bucky? No. He would still have thought to seek out his family if that had been the case. Unless he had forgotten them too… No, surely not. Torres would have said so. Which led to Bucky's response of "What am I doing here? What are you doing here Sam? What the hell happened?" He asked quietly. "You went missing, me, Sarah and the boys have been so worried and you ask me why I'm here?" Sam looked down.

There was a pause before Sam spoke.

"Torres, could you give us some space?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll bring you more groceries in a few days."

"Thanks," Sam said quietly and waited for him to leave before he invited Bucky in.

Bucky followed through into the other room, quietly wondering why there were no doors and where there previously had been, were chipped or broken.

Sam's bunker, Bucky decided he would call it, was simple. Brick and concrete with basic facilities. A standard camping cot, miniscule kitchen that clearly used to have cupboard doors, barely a room bathroom off to one side, covered by a curtain. "I repeat, what the hell are you doing here Sam?" Bucky asked quietly.

"On our last mission," Sam began, "something happened."

"No shit, what was it?"

"Someone dosed me with some kind of Super Serum. I don't know if it's the same as what Walker took, or if it's what you were given, or whatever, but it burned. I passed out and Red Wing got me to safety, or I guess what was meant to be safety. I woke up in what looked like a hospital but turned out to be a government facility. I managed to get out, I don't know how exactly, but let's just say security at night is not a strong suit wherever I was. I felt strange, I worked out I was here in DC, and I found Torres. Red Wing had taken me to him, he got me medical attention then I got wheeled away. He hid me here and has been helping me lay low. He got me my personal stuff but the wings were in lock-up. I wanted to call, God knows I did, but I'm not safe right now Bucky. To be around," he clarified. "I saw you looking, this place used to have doors. I pulled them off without even trying or meaning to, I have to sit on my camp bed so carefully or I'll go through it. I couldn't go home Buck and I'm sorry, but the last thing I wanna do is hurt Sarah, the boys, anyone."

Bucky listened to Sam's words, softly responding "I get it."

"How Buck? How could you possibly get it? I've been drugged, against my will with the one thing I wanted least of all!"

"Oh yes, because I was such a willing participant when I got it, you know, back in that prisoner of war camp where they used me because I was probably gonna die anyway? Right? Or Isaiah Bradley or any of the countless others who weren't so fortunate to survive the shot. Like hell I don't know how that feels."

"Buck-"

"No, sorry Sam, but listen. If there is anyone who can come close to understanding how you feel, it's gonna be me or Isaiah. We know because we've lived that. I've lived through that and I know. I know the confusion, the worry, the anger. The what the fuck is happening to me feeling. I've been there," Bucky trailed off.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I just… I was scared. I'm still scared. That curtain is the third one in the last two weeks, because I can barely close it without pulling it down. I've given up on cutlery, I don't go out because if I try grip the door handle, I crush it."

Bucky stepped closer to Sam, who looked like it took a considerable effort not to flinch or step back. Bucky's hand cupped Sam's cheek. He felt Sam lean into his touch like it was the oxygen he needed to breathe, and Bucky assumed this was the first human contact he'd had in a while. Hesitantly he took a step closer, sliding his hand down Sam's neck and holding him in his arms. Sam trembled in his arms, not daring to put his own around Bucky in return. "It's all right doll, I've got you now," he murmured as Sam's head fell against his shoulder. "I've got you." Sam's molten tears beaded on Bucky's jacket and rolled over the leather. He felt Sam's hands tentatively touch his back as he put his arms around Bucky. His hands weren't really touching Bucky, not really, more hovering over his jacket. Bucky continued. "I'm not gonna leave you OK? I learned how to be careful, you can too. It might take time, but Sam, please talk to us all right? You don't have to come home if you're that worried, but don't push me away. And please talk to Sarah. She's really worried about you. We all were."

Sam nodded against him. "I will. I will." He sniffed. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Bucky assured him. "It will be OK. First, let's get you out of here. Serum or not, the damp isn't good for you. You can stay at my place. I can take the doors off until you get a little more control and then at least you'll be warmer. Sam your skin feels like ice," he said.

"Buck, if they come looking for me-"

"Then they'll have to get through me first. Sam you can't live like this, in hiding, in fear. You've done enough of that for one lifetime, we both have."

Sam sighed. "Sorry babe, but not right now. OK? If I surface, they know who I am. They could use Sarah and the boys to manipulate me. For now, I need to stay here. I won't fight you if you want to stay, but I will fight you on getting me to leave. Soon maybe, when I can blend in a little better, but just, not yet."

Bucky pulled back to look into Sam's tired, bloodshot eyes. "OK," he agreed softly. "All right Sam. Not yet. But soon."

"Soon."

"And I'm not leaving your side in an effort to speed up that soon to very soon."

"All right Buck," Sam chuckled and nodded. "You stay and help me, and I'll see if we can step this up to very soon."

"Sounds good to me," Bucky replied, leaning forward to peck Sam on the lips. He pulled back and Sam followed him hungrily, his arms tightening around him for a fraction of a second as Sam brought him back for a deeper, bruising kiss, eager to make up for the lost time.