Winter of the White Wolf (Post Season 1 of "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier")
Chapter 5 - Flight to Symkaria
From what Bucky overheard during the flight to Symkaria, Sarah wasn't exactly thrilled about the two of them missing dinner, but she understood all the same. Sam had a way of downplaying the whole thing, not the least of which being the lack of details on what they were doing, where they were going, or how long they'd be gone. "Maybe the boys and I will see you on the news," Sarah'd offered encouragingly.
Somehow, Sam managed one of his disarming smiles to the video display on his phone alongside a non-committal, "Ha. Maybe. I'll let you know how it all goes. We'll talk soon though. Love ya."
"Back at-cha," Sarah concluded.
Seeing how much those two stubborn and strong-willed individuals cared about one another while also navigating the dance of not overstepping into each other's personal lives was something Bucky felt was a sheer art form unto itself. It was impressive, honestly, and for the briefest of moments, he wondered about his own sister, Rebecka.
She'd passed away before he'd made it out of Hydra's grip, but he'd always wondered how things had turned out for her. How they might've been as adults. He'd never know. She'd lived her life thinking he'd died back in 1945, and honestly: it was probably for the best. But it wasn't like that kept him from wondering now and then how things might've been different.
Sam caught his eye as he put his phone to one side and got comfortable for the rest of their long haul, "You good?"
"Good enough. It's just nice the both of you have each other."
"Makin' up for lost time on account of the blip," Sam offered, letting Bucky's inner-thoughts stay his own. "We used to bicker like you wouldn't believe, but we're good now, yeah. Still not really sure she gets what I do for a living, but that's fine by me." He stretched his legs, "I think she'd hoping I end up on a cereal box or something so she can brag to her friends."
Bucky managed a smile at that before a spot of turbulence made him grab at the netting behind him. The plane evened out quickly, but the motion of it was an abrupt reminder that they were in the center of a steel shell hurtling hundreds of miles per hour, tens of thousands of feet in the air. It wasn't that he was strictly afraid of flying, but it wasn't something you'd catch him doing unless it was strictly necessary. "Just so we're clear, we're not rendezvousing with anyone when we touch down in Symkaria?"
"Correct. Their government, well, since they're part of the United Nations, they'd need to be alerted if anything we're aiming to do would impact the Sokovia Accords. You know how it is since we signed. But they have their own forensics on the ground, and we'll just… sight-seeing… to see if we can uncover anything they might've missed. Could be nothing more than a political hit that's out of our jurisdiction, but would be nice to know if our guy's related to any of it or not. Symkaria doesn't exactly have a neighborhood Spider-Man."
Sam leaned back, "So, we're not representing our government in any official capacity. Currently. So it would be good if we can keep things…quiet."
"I like quiet," Bucky offered agreeably.
"I thought you might. Think of it as a vacation from the mosquitoes back home."
Bucky tilted his head, "Not sure what you've heard of Symkaria, but I can think of better vacationing spots, especially this time of year."
"I'm sure we'll be back on the Bayou before we know it," Sam said with a smile as he put on his headphones and leaned back to indulge in some classic Motown and soul music for the long flight ahead of them.
The music was just loud enough that Bucky could hear the tinny rhythm tinker in his peripheral. Only a few months ago, it probably would have annoyed him, but now he found there was something soothing knowing that Sam was lounging just a few feet away.
He still wasn't great at human connection, he might never be, but moments of quiet companionship like this: they were enough.
The flight to Symkaria was about as uneventful as they could have hoped for, save for a few scatterings of turbulence that made Bucky's stomach suddenly drop out from under him.
Sam managed to sleep through the bulk of the trip in a show of super human skill that perplexed every base instinct in Bucky that told him to stay vigilant. Try as he might to push away the tension, it rode along with him the whole time, piquing at every creak and noise the lumbering plane made along its route.
For his part, he spent the bulk of the sixteen hour flight trying to fill his time pouring over his phone with research on Symkaria in an attempt to jog his memory of the place and to catch-up on recent events. Hours later, he found himself browsing a Wikipedia article on the Simarillion without any clear memory on how he'd gotten there. When his battery finally gave out, he considered getting up and asking Torres if he had a charger, but he didn't want to risk waking Sam in the process, so he decided his web-surfing could wait.
He managed to be alone with his thoughts for what felt like an agonizing hour before he prodded at his phone again, hoping it had magically managed to charge itself when he wasn't looking. No luck. He slowly shifted to one side and laid horizontally across the seats, thinking maybe he'd give that sleep thing another try, only to be nearly thrown on his ass from another jolt of turbulence.
Eventually, he concluded sleep could wait until he had his feet planted firmly on the ground.
It was a noble sentiment, but it also meant that by the time they landed, caught a taxi, and tossed their luggage into their hotel room, he'd been up for just over twenty-five hours and was already clearly feeling the error of his ways.
By comparison, Sam was bright and chipper, as if he'd just experienced the best sleep of his life. He'd already unpacked his toiletries and was presently storing his bulletproof vest and firearms while Bucky took a moment to run a cold washcloth over his face in a feeble attempt to wake himself up.
"You've really got to start learning to catch a little shuteye on flights, Buck. You sure you don't want to crash for a bit before we head out?" Sam's voice was reasonable.
"Nah, I can make due. Better to see if we can find out anything while the trail's still hot. It's only another five or so hours until sundown, besides," he did his best to stifle the start of a yawn, but Sam raised a judgmental eyebrow as he caught the tail-end of it.
"If you say so," Sam acquiesced as he tapped his wrist communicator before putting on the finishing touches of what he called his "incognito getup." Bucky thought the blue jeans, white shirt, and brown leather jacket made him look like a fashionable tourist, but he would have felt better if he worse the vest just in case. By contrast, Sam insisted that being seen packing heat while wearing a vest sent the wrong energy to the wrong people. Bucky hoped he was right. He was a lot more comfortable about the idea of a well-coordinated sting operation over someone playing target practice with them out on some foreign streets he only half-recalled.
Bucky followed-suit by tossing on a dark grey shirt, black leather jacket, and gloves. After a few months in Louisiana off and on, he was surprised how peculiar it felt to have to hide the hand again. Even still, it was the right call to draw less attention, especially since the Winter Soldier had once been active here.
All-in-all, it was certainly preferable to that ridiculous approach they'd taken in Madripoor. Sharon had promised she'd take care of any cellphone videos that surfaced from that mess, but the thought of anyone seeing any of it continued to be a pit in Bucky's stomach. Until he'd seen what happened with Walker, well, he wasn't sure the people that oversaw his pardon would be nearly so understanding of how he'd gone along and played dress up at Zemo's request.
To be fair: If you looked at it from far enough away, most any portion of the entire Zemo situation was likely enough to stifle and reconsider his pardon, and he had to wonder how the Wakandans had negotiated any of the politics he'd uprooted along the way and across international borders. He was certain that wasn't and wouldn't be the end of that.
A nearby chirping sound pulled him back to the present. God, he was tired.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, using one finger to key in something to the communicator on his opposite wrist. After a moment he turned to the window and lifted it a few inches. Seconds later, two of his remote drones slipped inside and circled once around the room before taking position over the bed. Sam went and opened the chest for his wingsuit, pulling out the harness of the flight suit so they could eventually dock and recharge. "Redwing's finished collecting data of a three mile vicinity surrounding us which should cover our initial areas of interest. I sent the intel to our phones and watches and let Sharon know what we're up to just in case she catches wind of anything."
Bucky nodded an affirmation but his attention was on the drones. Shuri'd done a damn good job crafting her take on, what had she called it? "Primitive" Stark tech. It'd actually been her idea to draft up a pair of them as a tactical contingency and add in a number of impressive bells and whistles. Just looking at them, you'd have no idea of the amount of Wakandan tech in those damn things, and that was probably for the best. He'd take their work over the military's any day. "Which one's Redwing?" Bucky asked.
Sam sent an accusatory look his way. The look of a teacher that thinks a problem student isn't paying attention.
"I was listening," Bucky defended as he leaned against the wall. "I'm just asking."
"You asking to name it?"
"I didn't say that."
"Because that definitely sounded like you wanted to name it."
"No," Bucky cleanly defended as if he'd never heard of something so ridiculous, "It's a reconnaissance drone, not a pet. What's next? You think I'm going to name the arm?"
Even still, by the way Sam regarded the drones, it was clear this was a topic he'd given serious consideration to, bless his sweet southern heart. Why in god's name did it matter, and how could he even tell them apart?
"That one," Sam said, gesturing to the one nearest him, "That's Redwing." Bucky was sure the damn thing even bobbed when it heard its name. Sam swung his arm to acknowledge the second one, which dipped and hovered casually out of striking distance of Bucky's nearest hand, "And I think I'm going to call that one JB."
Bucky was tired enough that he wasn't following the reference, "JB?"
"James Barnes," Sam deadpanned. "He's the slower of the two. I'll put a little wolf sticker or something on him so you can tell him apart."
Bucky groaned as he regarded the thing as it made a show of proudly doing a stationary barrel roll, "Please don't."
With a wide grin and a tap on his wrist, Sam recalled the drones for charging and slipped the case away for safekeeping, toggling the cloaking shield Shuri'd put on it as he did: she really did think of everything. "Come on. Let's get some coffee in you on the way to the square," Sam suggested as he headed to the door.
"The caffeine won't help much," Bucky reminded him, "metabolism, remember?"
"Okay, well. We'll get some because I think fancy-ass coffee is delicious and will help us get to know the locals."
Author's Remarks:
Off we gooooo! :D I hope all of you are enjoying this story so far!