Chapter 5. Betrayal

A knocking on the room door roused Natalie to look out the security peephole on the door. It was the clerk. Swearing, Natalie cleaned up the room as best she could and pulled Bucky further into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, brought the first aid kit out, and closed the bathroom door. Then she answered the room door.

"Everything okay in here?" asked the clerk, suspiciously. "You seem a bit jittery."

"Yeah, we're good," said Natalie. "My boyfriend is in the shower. You can have the first aid kit back and I'll even give you 50 to restock it."

"I thought you were taking him to the hospital?" he said.

"I overreacted," replied Natalie. "He said he was fine. Just needed to clean it up a bit. He's in the shower but I can get him if you want."

"Would you?" he asked. "I want to hear it from the guy himself."

Natalie gulped and went towards the bathroom door. Just before she opened it Bucky opened it from the inside, wearing only a towel, keeping his injured arm out of view.

"Honey, do you have that nice shampoo with you?" he asked cheerfully, then saw the clerk. "Oh hey, sorry about the panic. She gets like that but I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

"You look a little pale," said the clerk. "You sure you don't want an ambulance?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," said Bucky with a big smile. "Thanks man."

The clerk took the kit and the 50, then left, shaking his head. As soon as he shut the room door Bucky's knees buckled and he sank to the floor, a pale sheen of sweat on his face. Natalie rushed to his side.

"Sorry," he gasped, as he grasped her arms. "A guy attacked me outside on the street. They have a bounty out on us. 5000 for me, 10,000 for you. He's dead, hit his head on the pavement after I kicked him. I dragged his body behind the dumpsters. The knife he attacked me with is in the rolled up newspaper. We have to leave now and dump the car."

She helped him up, the towel falling on the floor, and half walked, half carried him to the bed sitting him on the edge. Opening his bag she took out clean underwear and jeans and helped him put them on then slipped a clean T-shirt over his head.

"Your jacket is covered in blood," she said, "as well as the rest of your clothes. We'll have to get to a laundromat to clean them."

He nodded. "There's money in an envelope," he said, his voice still weak. "Take 1000 and get a cab to the airport. Take a flight to where ever that will take you. I'll drive the car, dump it and try to lead them away from you."

"No, I'm not leaving you," she said tearfully. "You're not fit to drive."

"I can't protect you," he exclaimed, looking in her eyes earnestly. "I'm hurt and I'm a liability. You're better off without me."

"No, I'm not," she implored him. "We stick together, okay? Can't we just switch license plates with another car? That should buy us some time before we have to ditch the car.

He smiled at her and impulsively kissed her on the forehead. She surprised him by kissing him back on the lips. Pulling back he looked at her, unsure.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have done that. It was unprofessional. You're my client."

"Who just gave you twenty stitches in your arm," she said. "I think I'm more than a client now. Plus I just saw you naked."

He smirked and shook his head. "Fine," he said. "I'll go out and change the licence plates, while you pack everything up. There should be a plastic laundry bag in the closet. We can put my bloody clothes in there. We take the knife with us and throw it into a river in the next county or further."

With a groan he tried to stand up and sank back down. Natalie went to her bag, turned around and quickly took her sleep shirt off, put a bra and T-shirt on then put her jacket on. Bucky told her he had a tool kit in the trunk and there should be a screwdriver in it. She took the car keys, opened the hotel room door and slipped out. Carefully Bucky stood up, packed her bag, then packed his while making sure the envelope of money was in it. He put socks and shoes on, and stuffed his bloody clothes into the plastic laundry bag that every hotel room had in the closet. He checked the bathroom again and put the bloody towels in with his clothes. He saw the rolled up newspaper with the knife in it and put it in the laundry bag as well. Just as he thought he couldn't do any more Natalie came back.

"Okay, I've switched licence plates," she said. "Were you able to get packed?"

"I did what I could," he said. "Double check the drawers and make sure I got everything."

She did then took the bags out and came back for him. Supporting him around the waist they left the room and she helped him into the passenger seat. She slid behind the wheel and suddenly started hyperventilating.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't driven since the accident," she admitted. "I'm scared."

"You're okay," he replied. "You've got this. I just need to rest for a while then I'll be good to drive."

"Where are we going?"

"South, go south to Pittsburgh," said Bucky, weakly, feeling shaky again.

She started driving with Bucky directing her as best as he could to the right highway that didn't have toll booths on them. Finally they were on their way and Natalie drove for as long as she could until she realized she was starting to fall asleep behind the wheel. She spoke to Bucky but he was either sleeping or unconscious as he didn't answer. Making an executive decision, she pulled off the highway and looked for a motel, before finding a small one and pulled in. A big man sitting in the office perked up when she walked in and asked for a double room. When he advised that all their rooms were singles, she took a chance and looked the man square in the eyes.

"I saw a murder in New York and the man out in the car is supposed to protect me," she said. "He was attacked last night and got injured. We have no choice but to keep running but I think they know his car and license plate. Do you have a garage we can leave it in while we're here? And do you have a laundromat? I can pay you extra for this. He just needs a place to heal until we can get to safety."

"Sure, miss," he said. "I can tell when a person is lying and you ain't lying. I'll help you. Do you need help getting him into the room?"

She nodded and started to cry, stepping back as he lumbered around the counter with a room key. Tentatively he reached out and patted her on her arm then told her to pull up to number 7 as he started walking to the room. She drove to it, meeting him when he arrived a few moments later and opened the door. Reaching through the now open car door he unlatched Bucky's seat belt and picked him up in his arms like he hardly weighed anything. Then he carried him inside and laid him on the bed. Natalie brought the bags in and gave him the car keys, thanking him profusely for his help.

"The laundromat is two doors down," he said. "I'll leave some detergent in there for you. You sleep easy tonight."

Natalie took 50 out of her purse and pressed it into his hand. "Thank you," she said sincerely, looking up at him. "I'm so scared and I have to take you at your word."

He smiled kindly, closed the room door, and looked at the 50. At first he was going to call the cops on them but she did look scared, like she had been in a war zone. Sighing, he squeezed into the front seat of the car, drove it to the storage shed and parked it inside. What did it matter if they were on the run? A lady hadn't been that nice to him in years and it felt good to help her, to be honest.

Inside the room, Natalie looked closely at Bucky and undid his jeans, pulling them off. Then she pulled the bedclothes back and repositioned him on that side of the bed, covering him up again. Quietly, with her back turned to Bucky, she took her jeans, T-shirt and bra off then put her night T-shirt on. Turning off the light first, she climbed into the bed next to Bucky and turned towards him. Tentatively she lifted his left arm and positioned herself so her head was on his shoulder. She put her arm on his chest and curled into him then closed her eyes feeling comforted by the warmth of his body. She was asleep within minutes.

Bucky opened his eyes, a beam of sunlight from a gap in the curtains across his face, feeling the weight of Natalie at his side. He looked at her curled into him and fought the urge to pull away from her. She looked so peaceful as she slept and he realized she must have driven until she couldn't drive any more. He had no memory of anything after he directed her onto the right highway to Pittsburgh and wondered how she got him into the room. When she shifted and intertwined her legs with his, Bucky smiled and pulled his arm around her just a little tighter, while he took stock of where they were. From the basic interior it seemed to be a country motel, likely off the main highway. A check of his watch indicated it was after 8 am. By now they had probably discovered the body of the man who attacked him. Thinking of the attack he looked at his bandaged arm, impressed that Natalie had done such a good job. Flexing it felt good as there was no soreness. A small groan escaped from Natalie's throat and he watched as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked slowly then raised her head to look at him, smiling shyly. He lifted his arm so she could extract herself and sit up, pulling the covers up to her chest.

"Hi," she said, embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I needed some comfort and it was the only way I was able to fall asleep."

"I didn't wake up when we got here," he said simply. "Where are we?"

"Between Erie and Pittsburgh," she replied. "I was falling asleep behind the wheel and I just had to get off the road."

"How did you get me in here?" he asked. "I know I'm too heavy for you to lift."

"The night clerk," she replied. "I told him the truth, gave him 50 for his trouble and he carried you in like a baby. They have a laundromat. I should probably get in there and wash your clothes."

"I can do that," he said, "but thank you for taking care of me. Your first aid seems to have been done very well. It's not sore at all."

He flexed his arm as if to prove that it was okay. She smiled weakly, then her lip quivered and he looked at her, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," she replied in a small voice and her lips started to quiver even more. He put his arms out to her and she allowed him to hold her as she cried for a few minutes before breathlessly recounting everything from the night before.

"I was so scared when I saw you at the door, passed out. You didn't react at all when I cleaned your wound and stitched it up. I thought I was going to vomit the whole time. Then the clerk pounded on the door and demanded to see you. When you opened the bathroom door I thought I was going to faint. Then I started to fall asleep at the wheel and you didn't answer. I came here and the night clerk helped me but I was still terrified."

"I'm so sorry, baby," he murmured, rubbing her back, then mentally kicked himself for using the baby word. "You did good, really good. I wouldn't have made it without you."

She stopped talking and suddenly stepped out of the bed to get a tissue from the bathroom. Bucky looked away as she walked past the bed to the bathroom, seeing she wore only panties and a T-shirt. He lifted the covers and realized he was wearing pretty much the same thing. Swinging his legs over to the side, he grabbed his jeans and put them on. Feeling stronger he put his socks and shoes on then changed into a clean T-shirt.

"I'm going to get my clothes washed," he told her. "Maybe I can find out about something to eat as well."

He reached inside the laundry bag and took out the knife, still wrapped in the newspaper. Then he picked up the laundry bag and went to the laundromat where he found a container of detergent on the table. He put lots in with his clothes but realized he needed change to start the washer and went to the office to ask for some. The man on duty looked carefully at him as he counted out some quarters.

"You must be the unconscious fellow that came in last night," he said. "You okay?"

"Yes sir," replied Bucky, lifting his bandaged arm. "A guy tried to kill me last night and I got slashed. My client bandaged me up and drove us as far as she could which was here. I guess your night guy took pity on us and helped us out."

"She said she saw a murder?" asked the man.

"Her sister, fraternal twin, killed by her boyfriend," said Bucky. "Police asked me to keep her out of New York City until they had enough evidence to keep him in custody. I'm afraid I haven't done that good of a job."

"I don't know about that," said the man, "but it's in the papers. Is that your client's sister?"

He pushed over the newspaper he had been reading and Bucky read that Amber's body had been discovered in the East River. Her neck bruises and petechial hemorrhaging in her eyes had confirmed her death by asphyxiation. A new arrest warrant had been issued for her boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, but he was still at large, considered armed and dangerous. A call was issued for the only witness, her sister Natalie, to contact police as soon as possible so they could secure her safety.

"I guess I should phone the detective," said Bucky. "There's just one problem. Someone in that station works for the boyfriend. I don't think my client is safe yet."

"That is a problem," the man said. "Well, I won't say anything if anyone asks for you and your car is hidden in our storage shed. Hang out here a couple of days until you can figure something out. There's a café about five minutes down the road. Menu is in the room. They'll deliver food to you. You can block our phone number if you use the phone in your room, you know using that *67."

Bucky thanked him and asked the man if there was a doctor he could see to look at his arm to make sure it wasn't infected.

"I'll do you one better," he said. "I'll call Doc Westerman right now. He still does house calls and I'll tell him I have a customer who needs help off the books. He'll do it for 100."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," said Bucky then he gestured at the man's arm. "I noticed your tattoo. Afghanistan?"

"Yes sir, artillery. You?" he responded, pointing to the hearing aids he was wearing.

"Infantry, 3 tours between 2003 and 2011, straight out of high school," replied Bucky. "Don't like needles so I never got marked. I still carry it here and here."

Bucky touched his head and his heart, and the man nodded, understanding completely. He stuck his hand out and they shook hands. He went back to the laundromat and started up the washer to do a long wash. When he returned to the room Natalie was squeezing her hair with a towel, having taken a shower. He leaned against the dresser and looked at her before sharing his news.

"They found Amber's body," he said cautiously. "It's in the papers. They've got a new arrest warrant out for Rumlow. They want you to contact the police but I'm not sure that's a good idea yet."

She teared up but didn't cry, just kept squeezing her hair, while she took in his news. He didn't press her for a response, knowing she needed to process this in her own way.

"I don't think so either," she replied, coughing to clear her throat. "If there's a mole in that station they'll just let him know where to find me."

"The day clerk suggested we stay here for a couple of days and rest up," he continued. "He knows a doctor that will come and check this. It feels really good but I'm worried about infection obviously."

"Are you going to phone Sam or Steve?" asked Natalie.

"Yeah, but I'm going to phone Steve at home," he said. "Something tells me they'll try to trace the call if I phone the station."

As she watched he got an outside line, entered *67 and then dialled Steve's home number. Peggy answered.

"Peggy, it's Bucky, is Steve there?" he asked.

"No, he's at the station, wondering why you haven't called him yet," she said.

"I tried but it went straight to voice mail," said Bucky. "Didn't Sam tell him I talked to him instead?"

"No, Steve asked him and he said he hadn't heard from you," she replied. "Bucky, I found out that Barton is recruiting for a new agency, something completely different from the CIA. He's resigned from there, apparently said he was tired of all the games, wants to be a white hat instead. Said he's no one which is a weird thing to say. That information he gave you, completely true...no Taliban activity of any kind. No warlords, nothing. Those two soldiers were killed to keep them from testifying on your behalf. They've reopened your file, Bucky. Someone told them this new information."

"Thanks Peggy. I appreciate you finding that out for me," he said with warmth then he thought for a moment. "Sam told me Dum Dum Dugan was okay. Was he telling the truth?"

Peggy gasped. "No, he was lying. They killed him Bucky," she said. "He went back to get his oldest kid's asthma medication and they were waiting for him. They beat him to death. Sam told you he was alright?"

There was silence on both ends of the conversation as they realized that someone close to both of them had been betraying them the entire time.

"I think we both know who the leak in the department is," said Bucky with finality. "Tell Steve. I'm going dark. I'll call him when I can. Thanks again. You and Steve are family, you know that right? Be careful."

"I know Bucky," she said softly. "So are you. Be careful also."

He hung up the receiver and sat there, not speaking, not reacting. Natalie watched him. "Bucky, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Sam lied," he said, his voice cracking. "They killed Dum Dum, they beat him to death. Sam never told Steve I called. He's Rumlow's inside guy."

"Shit," she said softly. "Tammy, his kids ..."

"You were right," he said, his lip curling in self-disgust. "I shouldn't have taken you there. It was too dangerous for them."

There was a knock at the door before she could respond and Bucky looked out the peep hole. It was the day clerk with another man carrying a doctor's case. Bucky opened the door letting the two men come in. The doctor saw the bandage under the shirt on Bucky's arm and asked to see the wound. After Bucky pulled the shirt off, he unwrapped the elastic bandage then gingerly took off the stained dressing underneath. With latex gloves on, the doctor proceeded to touch the wound carefully watching Bucky's face for reaction.

"I don't see much reaction on your face," he said to Bucky. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Not much," said Bucky. "It feels pretty good."

"Who did these stitches?" he asked.

"I did," said Natalie, "I cleaned it with soap and water then antiseptic then I stitched it as best I could."

"You did a decent job," he replied. "It's not red, or oozing. I think I should give you a tetanus shot just to be safe. Okay?"

"Sure, but I don't like needles," said Bucky, looking the doctor in the eyes.

"Look at the young lady then," said the doctor, "and I'll make it fast."

Bucky offered his other arm and turned his head to look at Natalie. He had a look on his face she hadn't seen before that worried her but she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. He gave her a slight smile in return. When the doctor injected him he winced but took it okay. The doctor asked Natalie for a warm soapy washcloth to clean Bucky's wound. Once he did that he looked at it again, appearing satisfied. He put a new dressing on it, then rewrapped the elastic bandage around it.

"Get those stitches out next week," he said. "You'll have a scar but it will be a thin one. The young lady did a good job."

Bucky pulled his wallet out and counted out 100. "Thank you, Doc," he said. "I appreciate your help."

The doctor nodded and left the room with the clerk right behind him. Bucky stopped the clerk, asking him a question in a low voice. He answered then Bucky turned to Natalie while he put his T-shirt and a hoodie on.

"I have to go out for a little while," he said curtly, not looking at her. "Do me a favour and put my laundry in the dryer. There's a restaurant nearby that will deliver food if you call. I think their menu is in the binder on the desk. I'm sorry."

He opened the door, looked apologetically at her and stepped out. "Bucky, wait," said Natalie, but he was already gone.

She opened out the door, watching him walking quickly down the road, his hands in his pockets, and hood pulled over his head. Natalie checked on his laundry to make sure all the blood came out and transferred it over to the dryer, putting the coins in and setting it on medium. Then she called the restaurant and had some food delivered, paying them cash. An hour later Bucky still hadn't returned and she went to the laundromat, taking his clothes out, folding them and carrying them back to the room. She was alone until dark when Bucky finally returned, banging on the door of their room until she opened it.

"Splat," he slurred. "That's the code word for you to open the door. Splat."

He pushed past her with a bottle in a paper bag and flopped onto the bed.

"You're drunk," she said. "Is that where you've been this whole time?"

"Yes, I'm drunk," he slurred. "I got my friend killed and I felt bad about it so I drank to feel better but it's not working."

He started to scowl then took a long pull on the bottle, spilling some of the alcohol down his face and onto the bed sheets that he was lying on. Breathing heavily he laid there for several minutes then sat up and looked at Natalie.

"You're pissed off at me, aren't you?" he asked, but she didn't answer so he raised his voice. "Aren't you? Because you fucking should be pissed off at me. I've done such a bang up job of keeping you safe."

"Bucky, give me the bottle," said Natalie, coming towards him. "Stop this and get some sleep."

"NO!" he yelled at her, as she jumped away from him. "Don't you understand? Tim is dead because I took you to stay at his house. Rumlow found out and sent his goons to kill him because they didn't get there in time to get me or you. Dum Dum's death is my fault."

He started to cry and kept saying it was his fault over and over again. Natalie tried one more time to get the bottle but he held it away from her as she reached for it. In the process he pushed her aside with his other arm and she fell onto the bed beside him. His face was grim as he looked at her, then he turned away as she returned his look.

"Don't look at me," he muttered. "I'm not worth loving. I fucked up my marriage, I fucked up my life and then I fucked up Tim's life. I'm shit."

"Bucky, you're not shit," said Natalie, trying to be sympathetic. "You're just hurting right now. I understand that."

"You understand shit," said Bucky, his voice full of envy. "Look at you. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're a widow. Everybody loves a widow. It wasn't your fault your husband died or your little girl, was it? You weren't drunk behind the wheel or anything like that. Once you stop mourning you get another chance. Not like me, a fucking disgrace to my family."

"You asshole," she said, her voice trembling as she stood up and faced him. "You know nothing. I was driving that day because John had just flown home from his business trip. He was grouchy and irritable and we started arguing on the ride home. Then Lucy started crying because we were yelling at each other on the parkway. I took my eyes off the road to comfort her and when I looked back it was too late. I turned to avoid it but I couldn't stop in time. I slammed into the back of a semi, it cut through our car like butter. Killed John and Lucy immediately. I wasn't hurt at all. I killed them Bucky. I killed my husband and my baby. So don't you dare pull rank on me you fucking asshole. I have two deaths on my conscience, not just one like you."

Natalie grabbed her jacket and her purse and stormed out of the room crying. Bucky swore and threw the bottle against the wall shattering it and spilling its contents all over the place. He opened the door hoping to call her to come back but she was already gone to who knew where. Full of shame, he sat heavily on the bed, rocking back and forth for what seemed like an hour. A knock on the door roused him and he opened it. The day clerk gave him a note, saying he was told to give it to him at that time. Eagerly, he took it then his hopes fell when he read it.

Bucky,

I've got a ride with a couple to Pittsburgh. I'll turn myself into the police there and insist they phone Steve. I'm sorry about Tim, I really am. But it wasn't your fault. We were betrayed by Sam. He must have told Rumlow you were guarding me and he used his contacts to track us down. You're not an asshole. You were just hurting really bad and you said some shit that hurt me. I'm sorry. You are a good man. Please believe that. Thank you for taking care of me.

Natalie

Knowing he was too drunk to drive Bucky laid back on the bed and tried to sleep. He went over Natalie's words in his mind. No wonder she hadn't driven since the accident. In many ways she was suffering as much as he was and he didn't even recognize it. In desperation he opened the sleep app on his phone and set it to rain storm. She had liked it and he imagined taking shelter from the storm with her, standing close together, feeling her warmth. That seemed to help because he fell asleep relatively quickly.