Certainty (A Bucky Barnes Fanfic)

━◦○◦5.6: Heightened Stakes◦○◦━

episode 5 - Truth

Cass could barely contain his excitement, perching on the porch railing. Bucky glanced over at the boys with a grin as he picked up the shield, its weight reminding him of dozens of Comando missions. With the same piece of metal. He shifted his grip and threw it against the cushioned tree. It bounced back at once, and Bucky grabbed the leather straps.

After an hour of cleaning up--and, in Bucky's case, packing--they had gotten ready to play frisbee. Sam found some old cushions, and they duck-taped them to trees. Sam stood beside Bucky, but everyone else stood or sat on the porch to watch.

"It looks easy," Cass slipped off of the railing.

"It is not heavy but bulky," Bucky caught it again. "The hard part is catching. Especially if you are trying to grab the straps."

"Can I try?" AJ looked back at Sarah.

"No, sir. You do not get to use your Uncle Sam's things for toys," Sarah reached out and shook his shoulder. "You have chores."

"Mom!"

Bucky chuckled, looking up at Shamara, "What time are we leaving again?"

"We need to go in about thirty minutes," she stepped closer. "You packed?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not. I'll do that, then we should probably head out. Sarah has work."

"Oh, don't worry," Sarah squeezed Shamara in a half-hug. "I'm headed there now. I'll see y'all later, I hope. You know, Bucky, if you ever want to move to Louisana, you could easily start working in boat maintenance. I'd hire you for sure, and I know others who could use the help."

"Is that your way of telling me I am useless?" Sam crossed his arms.

"You said it, not me."

Bucky held in a laugh, catching Sam's glower, "I'd like that. Have a good day, Sarah."

"Goodbye!" She waved, hugging Shamara again.

There was a moment of silence, thick in the Spanish moss. Shamara walked inside to pack, and the boys' distant voices quieted.

"May I?" Sam pointed at the shield.

Catching Bucky off guard again. But he tossed it into the closest cushion so it would bounce back to Sam.

It buried in a tree instead.

Sam barked a laugh, "Really, man?"

"Maybe we need to adjust those a little," Bucky marched over to the tree and pulled the shield free.

"Or maybe your aim was off."

"Fat chance."

They messed around with the duct-taped cushions, and Bucky handed the shield to Sam. He tossed it at the center tree, then caught it again.

"Feels weird . . . ," Sam glanced at Bucky. "Picking it up again."

He threw it, passing it to Bucky. Bucky caught it, sliding his arm into the straps.

"The legacy of that shield is complicated, to say the least," Sam's expression was still guarded, but less so.

There it was.

"When Steve told me what he was planning . . . ," Bucky kept meeting Sam's gaze, "I don't think we understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield."

Sam's visible relief nearly made Bucky grimace. Man, I screwed up.

"How could we? I owe you an apology," he passed the shield back over. "I'm sorry."