{Break me like a curse, golden ashes turn to dirt

[notworthallthis]

PSL with unclesam - Civil War AU

the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways
and satisfaction feels like a distant memory

After taking the time after the events of Civil War to heal in Wakanda, Bucky meets up with Steve, Natasha, and Sam on the run.

During an undercover mission gone very wrong, Bucky and Sam end up captured and locked up— the problem? Besides the fact that their new prison seems virtually impenetrable at the moment, the temperature is dangerously low.

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[unclesam]

A soft chuckle. Oh, he'd love that. Soaring through the grand canyon, shocking a few unsuspecting onlookers. Sam loves a good canyon flight. Something about the narrow spaces, having to react fast to flit through.

He reaches up, cups Bucky's cheek. Forces eye contact.

"I know. I'm saying... We can sit in different corners. You don't have to watch me die, man. You've had to deal with enough."

[notworthallthis]

Yup, that solidifies it; this Grand Canyon trip is happening when they get out of this mess.

He goes rigid at the hand on his cheek, but almost immediately relaxes, his gaze focused intently on the man in front of him. "Why would I do that?" his voice is barely above a whisper.

There are no tears in his eyes, but there is a sadness, and a fear to be found there. "I'm not gonna let you die alone, Sam..."

[unclesam]

A hitch in his breath, a slight shudder. Sam swallows hard. His own eyes shine, but no tears well up. He holds it together. After a moment, Sam speaks. Quietly.

"I don't want to hurt you, Buck."

It's honest. Sam isn't afraid to die - but he is afraid to cause pain.

[notworthallthis]

"You're not," he mutters, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Sam's own, tugging his hand down away from his face, squeezing gently and running his thumb across his knuckles. "The fucks that trapped us in here are hurting me, but not you," his teeth are clenched, making his words sound more like they were being ripped out of him than spoken.

After a moment, he shifts and sits Sam up a bit more, tucking the jacket closer around his shoulders, hoping it might help even the slightest bit more to keep some heat trapped around him. And then... he gets to his feet.

Bucky is done waiting around for a Hail Mary, he's just going to have to get them out of this himself. He flexes the fingers of his left hand, delightfully not numb or affected by the temperature at all.

If they want to take them out, they're going to have to try harder than this, because he's going to punch a hole through the goddamn wall if it's the last thing he does.

He doesn't hesitate to approach the door they'd had slammed shut on them earlier and starts raining punches into the steel-reinforced concrete door. First, just with his left, where he knows he has the most strength and power behind him despite being the non-dominant hand, but eventually his right hand joins the fray as well. The sound reverberates through their frozen cell, solid, heavy thuds and clanks of metal; it rocks the foundation of the room around them, and Sam can probably feel the vibration of each strike that Bucky makes.

[unclesam]

Sam knows there's no point in interrupting Bucky here, and he gets it. The need to try and do... something. Anything, really. He feels it in his cold, freezing bones, too. The door will not yield, at least not fast enough. And when Bucky uses his right arm, Sam winces.

He doesn't say anything, at first, even then.

But after a good long while of it, he gently calls out:

"Bucky... hey... Buck. C'mere."

his voice doesn't carry. But he knows Bucky's gonna hear it.

Despite all of his strength, he hasn't made a dent in the door.

[notworthallthis]

Despite the blatant, obvious lack of progress, he might have kept going until he completely exhausted himself if not for that soft call of his name. He feels all of the energy leave him immediately after the last punch, something raw and sharp cracking open inside his chest as the fact that they really are stuck here sinks in again.

It takes a moment from Sam's voice hitting his ears, the reverberating sound of that last hit to the wall- he has to collect himself before he goes back over to where his friend is sitting. Where his friend is just waiting to die.

His hand drops back to his side, his shoulders sagging in defeat before he finally turns away from the door and moves back to sit with Sam. He doesn't say anything at all; there's nothing to say, nothing is making this any better, any easier to handle, so he doesn't bother trying.

Instead, he just tugs Sam into a hug, hooking his chin on the other man's shoulder to be sure he can't see the tears track down his cheeks.

[unclesam]

Sam doesn't need to see.

He knows. He wraps his arms around Bucky, holds him back as tightly as he can. Swallows, hard. He tugs Bucky in, like he's trying to shield the man from the reality of the situation. That they can't get out. That Sam's not built to survive this shit. That he's gonna die, right here, and there's nothing either of them can do about it.

"I need you to know that I don't regret it." He's petting Bucky's hair, rubbing his back. Offering comfort, even now. "Breaking the law for you. Going to prison. I'd do it all over again for you. And I need you to promise me that you'll survive this, alright. I know it's gonna hurt... but I need you to keep going after this."

[notworthallthis]

Bucky hates all of this. He hates the cold that's seeping into their bones, he hates the fact that he probably just wasted more of the oxygen left in the freezer with his little tantrum, he hates the way Sam is the one comforting him while he's the one dying.

"Stop talking like that," he mutters, clinging just a little tighter, like maybe if he could just pull the other man close enough, he could trap enough heat in him to save him. "just stop talking," he says with a soft huff, though there is no mirth found in it to be considered a laugh at all.

[unclesam]

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't quite know what he's apologizing for. Not until he brushes his lips against Bucky's. He doesn't think about it before he does it. It just... sort of happens. Sam's dying, and this is what he reaches for. And it's unfair, to kiss without asking for permission, to kiss Bucky when Sam's not gonna make it through. And yet...

It's brief. Just a sweet, tender brush of lips against lips before Sam pulls back again.

[notworthallthis]

Bucky isn't sure what that apology is about, and he might have asked for clarification if not for the soft brush of lips against his own. Every thought he might have had in that moment is simply gone, lost in the abyss that forgotten words and memories go, because... for that brief handful of seconds, that kiss is the only thing he knows.

"What was that for?" his voice is a whisper, like maybe if he gets any louder than that, some spell might break. He thinks he knows the answer. He thinks this is something that might have happened anyway, eventually, if they hadn't ended up here; there was always supposed to be more time, but there may be none left. Something about unfinished business or not dying without letting it be known. One last confession of a man with no reason to think he's making it out alive.

[unclesam]

"For the part of me that's selfish."

A chuckle. It lacks humour, and it sounds weak.

"I wasn't gonna... y'know. Act on anything. You're healing, and last thing you need is a friend trying to push something on you. But, well."

A small shrug. Sam puts his hand against Bucky's cheek, and oh. His hand is so cold.

"I hope you'll forgive me. I'm feeling light-haded, and I just... wanted to kiss you so bad for so long now."

[notworthallthis]

“You’re one of the least selfish people I’ve ever met, Sam,” he huffs a soft sigh.

That hand on his cheek gets a little shiver, the difference of temperature between Sam’s fingers and Bucky’s face is… stark. It isn’t fair, he’s still so much warmer than he should be by now because of the serum, but not warm enough to stave off the cold for Sam.

“Hey…” he nudges him, gentle but firm. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he assures him.

Light-headed? Not good. Bucky can feel the panic rising like bile in the back of his throat. “don’t you go to sleep on me.”

[unclesam]

"Trying. I swear."

It's a promise he's gonna break sooner rather than later. The only good thing about freezing to death. Sam won't feel the worst of it. He will just feel miserable, and then he will fall asleep. And Bucky will have to sit while his breathing slows, until it stops. Bucky will have to listen as his heart just stops, too.

It's not fair.

"Tell me.. more about our grand canyon road trip... yeah?"

[notworthallthis]

“We’re using real maps, for starters,” he says with a soft, mirthless chuckle. “And you gotta help me plan the route. I dunno what’s out there these days, we gotta make all the best stops on the way, yanno?”

He tries to keep the thoughts flowing, just words going into the empty, frozen space. He barely knows what he’s saying half the time, he just wants Sam to stay awake. Baits him about music choices or food stops just to hear his voice.

Bucky tries not to think too hard about how soft his voice is, how tired he sounds. He doesn’t want to lose another friend. Not like this.

“…Sam?” He nudges him slightly after a moment of silence that felt too long.

[unclesam]

It's pleasant. Just... listening to Bucky's voice. Just hearing him make plans for the future. It's comforting. And it keeps Sam awake longer than he otherwise might have. Keeps him warmer than any jacket or body heat would. Bucky holds him and talks about the future, and Sam thinks... maybe they could go to the grand canyon, and maybe they would kiss again. Maybe Bucky would watch him fly, and smile, and hold out his arms, and Sam would have someone to come home to, be it as a friend or...

Or...

He feels... light, here. In this space Bucky makes for him.

So light he can't tell when his eyes slide shut.

So light he doesn't realize he's no longer responding out loud.

So light he doesn't realize he's slipping away from Bucky, from the cold, from everything.

The silent moment stretches on too long. Sam is cold. Sam is silent. Sam's chest does not move.

Sam's heart makes no sound in his chest.

The room is terribly, heavily, irrevocable silent.

[notworthallthis]

The nudge is met with… nothing. No shift in weight, no quiet mumble, just silence. Just stillness.

“Sam?” Bucky can hear his own voice pitch in panic, “Sam, come on,” he shakes him a little rougher but there is no response. Just the heavy weight of another death on his hands.

And everyone will tell him it’s not his fault. The same way they’ve all said every death he’d caused as The Winter Soldier wasn’t his fault. But he knows the truth, he knows that it was his finger behind the trigger every time. And he knows he was completely useless in saving Sam.

Why does someone like him with a river of blood between his hands get to live, while someone like Sam, who only wants to do the right thing, who is practically sunshine personified, dies. Locked in a freezer. It just isn’t fair.

He doesn’t even know when he shifted to his knees, body curled over Sam’s. Bucky’s fingers curl into the jacket he’d put around him and he presses his forehead against his friend’s chest.

It just. isn’t. fair.

Bucky will survive this, wherever Steve and Natasha are, they’ll come and he’ll be alive. But he won’t be okay, not for a long while.

[unclesam]

And just like that...

The lights go out. The room is plunged in pitch black darkness, and there is a loud sound, like something powering down. The next thing Bucky will hear is the thrum of the freezer's generators shutting down, followed by hurried steps, loud voices.

They're familiar. Steve, Natasha. They found Sam and Bucky, they managed to destroy whatever this facility is running on and then...

Electronic beeping. And with a loud hiss, the massive steel doors of the freezer open, letting in a sliver of emergency light from the outside, a sliver of warmth. Just like that, there is Bucky's out... but Sam is in his arms. Sam, who stopped breathing.... how long ago?

Not that long.

Maybe, just maybe... not too long ago.

[notworthallthis]

Everything happens so quickly, he barely has time to process it as it happens. None of it matters, none of it expect the second that door opens. Bucky is pulling Sam into his arms and rushing him out into the open hallway, which feels sticky and hot compared to the freezer but he barely registers this. All of his focus is on Sam.

He hears Steve and Natasha asking him things, giving him rundowns, but none of it sinks in. He’s too busy counting chest compressions and trying not to break any ribs in the process. Every new attempt to get him breathing again is more frantic than the last.

“Come on…” he murmurs, “this can’t be what takes you out…” he hasn’t even noticed the tears in his eyes.