{ 5. The Adventures of Captain America co-starring Sergeant Barnes}

"I got dosed by you and,

Closer than most to you and,

What am I supposed to do?

Take it away,

I never had it anyway,

Take it away,

And everything will be okay

In you a star is born and,

You cut a perfect form and,

Someone forever warm"

-'Dosed', Red Hot Chili Peppers

xXxXxXx

It wasn't exactly vacation-season. The dining area was nearly barren as Sam picked up breakfast, keeping his face turned away from the few people he did see. If they were staring, it was only because he was wearing sunglasses indoors, and he realized that maybe they were drawing more attention to themselves with that movie star shit.

He brought three plates for Steve and one for Tony, and the four gathered in Sam and Tony's room to eat. It got tiresome, being cooped up like this, scurrying around like rats in the walls. Bucky sat on the floor with a protein drink in his hand, sipping it little by little. Disgust on his face. Steve glanced at Tony, who casually leaned on the wall with his phone in one hand and a biscuit in the other. The phone was facing Bucky's general direction and he wondered if it was recording.

The dining table only seated two, both chairs claimed by Steve and Sam as they shoveled through their breakfast. "Huh. You're in South Carolina, Barnes," mentioned Tony, then he plugged his mouth with the rest of the biscuit. He was still fiddling with his phone.

"Checking on the signal?" queried Sam. Tony nodded.

"Yep, it's still going. S.H.I.E.L.D agents are probably swarming the state," he said. "Good. Long as they're not up our asses." Steve grinned over a bite of eggs. He liked the thought of S.H.I.E.L.D wasting all those resources chasing a fake signal, though he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught on.

"What happens when they realize the signal's been tampered with?" asked Steve. "Is there any way they can correct it and come find us?" Tony gave a light shrug.

"If they do, I'll know about it."

"And then…?" Steve raised an eyebrow. Tony hesitated, then decided,

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

It wasn't the answer Steve wanted, but he could tell by Tony's flippant tone that it was the best he was going to get. A quiet choking sound pulled his attention, and he looked down to see white foam oozing from Bucky's mouth. "Oh, jeez," Steve scrambled for a napkin and kneeled, plugging Bucky's mouth with it as he dragged him into the bathroom.

Sam turned to Tony, then gestured his head towards the bathroom door. Tony nodded and casually meandered towards the open doorway, phone held before him at chest-level. He had a clear shot of the room and of Steve, who was holding Bucky's hair back as the brunet coughed up the rest of the protein drink into the toilet.

"Soooo," began Tony, "he's not gonna keel over on us, is he?" Steve shot him a glare, then it softened and he sighed,

"I don't think so. Maybe it'll get better. He's just…I think they were tube-feeding him for a long, long time." Steve frowned, guiding the brunet to the sink to rinse his mouth. He continued over the running water, "Hydra wanted to keep him dependent. He won't run away if he can't even feed himself, right?" Anger was creeping into his voice.

"Digestive atrophy," Tony suggested. "Hm. I bet S.H.I.E.L.D has some medical personnel on their team who could've patched that up. He was at their facility for over a month and they didn't think to look into that? Seems pretty high-priority to me. I mean, look at him. Poor bastard's miserable." He gestured to Bucky, spitting a mouthful of water down the drain.

Steve snapped, "They didn't care about his well-being! All they cared about was weaponizing him. They took everything. They took his childhood, his friends, his…His own mother's face. It's all gone." Tony chewed his lip for a moment, mulling something over that he wasn't sure should be said aloud. The phone stopped recording.

Bucky left the bathroom and flopped on the bed. The last half of his protein drink remained untouched on the floor. Steve capped it and placed it in the mini-fridge. It took a ton of calories to power Bucky's metal arm, but without it, he needed far less than Steve did. That said, Steve knew he still wasn't getting enough to sustain him. If they weren't careful, this could turn critical fast.

Tony gathered his nerve and finally blurted what was on his mind. "Hypothetically, let's say—hypothetically!—that Barnes can't deal and starts to starve out. What's your plan? Should we just," he shrugged, exposing his palms, "give him back to S.H.I.E.L.D? 'Cause real talk—he could die from this."

"Don't you think I know that?" Steve didn't say. Instead, he crossed his arms and replied as calmly as he could manage, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

xXxXxXx

Steve was going stir-crazy. He hadn't felt this way since he was a kid, suffering pneumonia every winter. He remembered being cooped up in the hospital for weeks, bored out of his skull the whole time. It had been Hell on Earth and he hoped Bucky didn't feel that way.

His friend was still lying on the bed where he collapsed hours ago, sleeping off and on. Steve woke him and made him finish the rest of his protein drink. It wasn't an option, it was a matter of life and death.

Bucky was keeping the drink down so far as he sat at the table with Sam. They were solving a word jumble together, though Bucky just seemed to be circling random letters and doodling shapes on the borders. At least he was engaging, Sam thought.

Steve paced this way and that. He peered out the window, then wandered to the other side of the room to fuss with the thermostat. He wanted to bash his head against the wall, right through the plaster where Bucky left a crack. They'd be paying for damages already—why not? Tony was boozing it up on one of the beds, perfectly content to be indoors for days at a time. Steve didn't understand that guy.

Bucky drew a rectangle in the upper margin of the page. He added lines and details that looked random to Sam at first, until he realized it was a gun. Bucky was drawing a rifle, with a long barrel and a scope. It was simple and crude, but it was undoubtedly a sniper rifle.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Steve," he mumbled just loud enough to get the man's attention. Steve turned to him and he tilted his head towards Bucky as if to say 'get over here and look at this shit now'. Bucky paid them no mind, brow furrowed and eyes focused as he hunched over the drawing. He was adding little human-shaped figures in front of the rifle, shading their clothes in dark. They were faceless and wearing hats. Soldiers?

Steve stared at the page, jaw falling slack. To his knowledge, S.H.I.E.L.D hadn't exposed Bucky to any weaponry yet since his reset. He and Sam busted him out before they got that far. Steve wanted to say something, but what the hell could he say? A million questions stuck in his throat and he knew not a single one would get him anywhere.

A smile spread across Sam's lips. He glanced up at Steve and said, "You can take the man out of the military. Can't take the military out of the man." A little crease appeared between Steve's blond brows. He dropped to his knee between Bucky and Sam, then tapped his finger on the page and asked,

"Do you remember the military, Buck?"

Please. Please, God.

Steel-gray eyes flashed towards him, then back to the paper. Bucky stared at the drawing with such intensity, he almost looked angry. After a moment, a sharp breath gusted through his nostrils and he furiously scribbled out the rifle, the soldiers, and half of the word jumble. Sam gently placed a hand on his forearm and he stopped, then threw the pencil across the room. Tony flinched as it broke on the wall above his head.

Long hair draped over the table as Bucky sunk down, burying his head in his arm. His frustrated groan said it all. Turning towards Steve, Sam muttered, "I think he's trying. Probably got some fragments there, but I doubt it's anything he can make sense of. Not yet anyway."

"You think there's a chance he…?"

"Hard to say." Sam shrugged. "Only time will tell."

Bucky lifted his head and pushed the book of word jumbles off the table. Art was bullshit.

"Hey now," Sam stooped over and picked up the book, "I know you're frustrated and I'm sorry. But for a guy who just got his mind wiped, I'd say you're doing exceptional. Don't be hard on yourself, Man."

Bucky looked at Sam, then his gaze drifted over to Steve. He felt put on the spot. Too many eyes. He tipped his head down and let his hair obscure his face as he hummed, "Mmmmmmm…" It was a little gruff, a little angry. Steve clamped a hand on his metal shoulder. He wondered how much Bucky could comprehend of the situation. Did he even know who they were? Where they were going and what they were doing? Did he know they were on the run?

Probably not. His head must feel like pure chaos.

xXxXxXx

Sam found out Tony had been browsing the internet on his phone and nearly hit the roof. Tony assured him it was fine and he couldn't be tracked as long as he didn't post anything. Sam had to admit, he wasn't the tech expert here and he just had to take his word for it.

The whole internet thing was still foreign territory to Steve. He just knew Tony was always getting himself in trouble whenever he got drunk and posted on the Tweeter or whatever. At the moment, Tony was using the internet to show Bucky videos, and Steve hadn't seen Bucky so engrossed in something since the reset. He hardly blinked as he stared at the little phone screen in Tony's hand, sitting beside him on the floor.

Steve was looking at a travel guide at the table, but he heard a familiar theme song and knew exactly what they were watching. Back in their glory days, he and Bucky starred in a television series among other things. It was pure cheese, but they had fun and the show did well enough. It was abruptly cancelled after Bucky's "death" when he fell from the train all those decades ago. Steve couldn't bear to watch it again ever since. He had no idea it would be on the YouTube after all these years. Who wanted to watch those silly old episodes?

Bucky did, apparently. Steve couldn't see the screen from his angle, but he could see Bucky's wide eyes, the furrow in his brow, the way he sat with his nose inches from the phone. Steve vaguely remembered this episode. It opened with a bunch of Nazis plotting an attack on the White House. He grinned at the fake, over-the-top German accents.

The next scene was a shot of Captain America and his sidekick Sergeant Barnes speaking with the president. Bucky suddenly snagged the phone from Tony's hand. He bounded across the room towards Steve, plunking the phone down in front of him. He tapped his finger urgently against the screen during a scene with himself and Captain America conversing before a painted backdrop.

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, that's us, Pal! Look at those old costumes. Ridiculous." He leaned over the phone and slowly shook his head. "You met a lot of nice girls after we filmed this stuff. I doubt you remember, but…Well, if they're still alive, I bet they remember you."

Tony appeared beside them and leaned on the table. "I used to watch this crap when I was kid," he said. He turned to Bucky. "You were a hit. Everyone loved you. They loved you so much, they made these toys—these, uh…" He snapped his fingers in recollection. "Bucky Bears! We should get you one. Wonder if there's any on eBay…"

"Don't be ordering shit on eBay!" Sam's voice called from behind the bathroom door. Tony rolled his eyes and called back,

"Okay, Mom!" Bucky slowly kneeled to the floor and rested his arm on the table, watching the screen beside Steve. Once in a while he pointed to something—another actor or a prop—and hummed.

A smile crept onto Steve's lips. It was a heavy smile, burdened with layers of grief and uncertainty. He refused to watch this program after Bucky's death. Watching it now, he felt that familiar old revulsion in the pit of his gut. As if his best friend was still buried in an icy grave.

xXxXxXx

It was well after midnight. Tony and Sam returned to their room hours ago while Bucky lay on his bed, still marathoning "The Adventures of Captain America" on Steve's phone. Steve ran out of things to do ages ago, so he'd just been loitering by the window and indulging his paranoia. Sleep was out of the question and he couldn't explain why. He just had a bad feeling, like a shiver in his spine when he thought about closing his eyes.

His keen ears picked up a rumble from down the road. Headlights beamed in from behind the trees, then a dark SUV pulled into the lot. Steve peeked through a slit in the curtain, squinting in the darkness. The headlights blinked off and the engine silenced. A bald man and a blonde woman stepped out of the vehicle.

Shit. Shit shit shit—Steve jerked away from the glass like it burned him and somersaulted over the bed, startling Bucky, who looked back at him like he'd grown a third arm. Steve was suddenly tearing ass around the room, quickly and carelessly stuffing everything back into their bags.

"We gotta go," he said with quiet urgency. "Bucky, come on. Come on, c'mon!" His arm swept in a rapid 'come here' gesture and Bucky scrambled off the bed. With three bags slung over his shoulders, Steve snatched the phone from his hand and stuffed it back in his pocket.

He knew it. He fucking knew it, he just had a feeling. Steve slapped a ball cap on his head and seized Bucky's wrist, pulling him along as he stormed down the hall. He stopped in front of Sam and Tony's door and pounded on it harder than he meant to.

"Wayne, Richard!" He whispered sharply against the wood. Anyone could be listening. The door creaked open and there stood Sam, shirtless and groggy. Plaid pajama bottoms sagged on his hips.

"We need to leave," Steve reported quickly. "Grab Tony and meet me in the van, ASAP. Wear a hat." His urgency snapped the other man awake in an instant. Questions could wait.

"Got it." Sam nodded and disappeared behind the door. Steve crossed the hall and descended the staircase two steps at a time, Bucky following close behind.

They rounded a corner and Steve stopped for a half-second before backing behind the wall again. He grabbed Bucky's short sleeve and jerked him back too, earning a little groan of protest. "Sorry," Steve whispered. On the other side of the wall, the bald man and the blonde woman were checking in at the front desk.

Steve recognized them from the last motel. Could have been a coincidence, just a couple on a road trip, but…Who takes a road trip in the ass-end of fall? (Steve and his wayward pals did, apparently.)

They didn't look like agents. The man was on the older side, a bit out of shape, and the woman was waifish and middle-aged. Then again, S.H.I.E.L.D was sharp enough to send agents no one would expect. They may not even be S.H.I.E.L.D. They could be FBI, CIA, mercenaries…Hell, they could even be Hydra. S.H.I.E.L.D weren't the only ones who wanted Bucky's head on a platter right now. Steve wasn't taking any chances.

He peeked around the corner, watched the man take a room key from the receptionist. There was another hallway they could—Nope, they were headed for the stairs. Fuck. Steve contemplated running back up the staircase and hiding somewhere in the hall until they disappeared. Too close. No time. They were better off just—

Steve hooked his arm around Bucky's, sticking close and obscuring him with his own body as much as possible before striding out into the lobby. His hat was pulled low and he pretended to scratch his face as he made his way to the door. If the couple looked at him, he didn't notice because he didn't dare pay them a glance.

The cold night air was a shock to their faces. A bit of frost covered the windshield of the van and Steve mentally kicked himself when he realized Sam had the keys. He frantically patted his pockets in search of his phone, only to find Bucky had pick-pocketed it from him at some point. He hadn't even noticed.

Bucky was trying to get his show to play again, but they were well out of Wi-Fi range. He frowned as he repeatedly tapped the error message with his thumb. Steve plucked the phone from his hand and began texting Tony, only because he knew he probably had his phone in his hand like it was part of his body. He slept with it beside his pillow for God's sake.

"2 agents inside. gte out fast. hide face"

A hand reached up and tried to tug the device away. Steve moved it out of Bucky's reach and whispered, "Not now, Buck." In just a couple minutes, he saw the door swing open and two men in hoodies and pajama pants were hastily crossing the parking lot. They wore hats on their heads and bags on their shoulders.

Tony wobbled a few paces behind Sam, unbalanced by the luggage and probably a few drinks still in his system. He cursed as he stumbled onto his knee, Steve bolting forward to pull him back to his feet while Sam jammed the key in the driver's side lock. The four practically threw themselves into the van and Sam was backing out before Tony even closed the passenger door.

A few miles passed before Sam felt comfortable turning on the headlights. As far as they could see, no one was following them, but their hearts pounded all the same. Tony was the first to break the tense silence, twisting in his seat to look at Steve. "We saw two people in the hall, male and female. Were they…?"

"Yeah," Steve swallowed. "I recognized them. They were staying at the last place too, and I thought…I thought that was a little strange."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you were tweekin' around by the window all night…"

Steve shrugged. "Aren't you glad I was?"

"Guess I am. Think they were S.H.I.E.L.D or what?"

"Doesn't matter. I doubt anyone tracking us down right now just wants a friendly chat. Let's stay out of their way."

"Sounds like a plan."

Tony fished his laptop out of a bag and pulled a map up on the screen. "Signal's still scrambled," he reported. "No evidence of further tampering, and S.H.I.E.L.D are the only ones who would try."

Sam shot a dirty look at him and spat, "Probably FBI then! Did you drunk-post on Twitter?"

"No, I didn't drunk-post on Twitter!" Tony replied mockingly.

Steve scrubbed at his weary eyes. It was going to be a long night.

xXxXxXx