Amends (Sambucky)

Chapter Five

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Sam screamed with every fiber in his being.

Physically, he was fine.

His muscles tensed as kicked a rock as hard as he could; every bit of his survival skills muted by his rage. His throat and eyes burned him on its way up, and it burned those who were on the receiving end of his anger. It was his way of avoiding the shame that he couldn't have accepted Sharon was gone on his own, and the guilt that he felt knowing that she was most likely dead, not simply lost in the trees like Sam.

Not for long though, because he called redwing. It would only be a matter of time before he found him.

But rage was an emotion that Sam didn't handle well. He never felt the need to take it out on others, but it always ate him from the inside out, corrupting every sense of community he had. For as strong as his anger could be, it never changed the fact that anger is a secondary emotion.

Still, he was angry with whoever blew up their plane, and the stupid psychic who couldn't be bothered to mention it. There was not a doubt in his mind that the man knew exactly how his life would go, and he did nothing to stop the deaths. No, he only gave meaningless advice.

You will find a good friend,
One who you thought you'd seen his end.
All of his memories will come back,
But his truth and spirit will still lack.

When this happens, run, new hero.
But do not forget his sacrifice.
Also remember while he's gone,
It was not you who took his life.

Your heart is cold and closed,
But you will have all that's lost.
So when it doesn't go as supposed,
Remember he's still worth the cost.

"Sam?!"

The call was faint, and Sam couldn't hear from which direction it came. Nonetheless, his anger dissipated as he had something else to cling onto, "Bucky?!"

Sam didn't hear the call again, and for a moment he began to worry that he was now totally alone— but that's something he's craved for awhile now, whether or not he'll admit it. Ever since he got that shield, he's felt like he needed a moment to himself, a moment to breathe; however, he couldn't leave those who followed him without warning, and so he didn't.

There was a sharp snap of a branch that made Sam turn around to face Bucky, who seemed to be holding back whatever it was that he was feeling, "Sam."

"We should find them," Sam stated sharply, looking towards where he believed the plane had crashed.

"There's nothing there for us," Bucky tried to reason, "Even if Sharon and her pilot didn't jump, I know we won't find them there."

"You don't know that."

"Sam, they're dead!" Bucky huffed bluntly, "I had to push you off just so you wouldn't die! Now, stop pretending like you care, or believe they're still living, because you're lying to yourself. You're being foolish and naive, just how Sharon warned you'd be!"

"I'm sorry, asshole, but some of us actually have feelings! Some of us, actually care about people and things for reasons beyond just: Steve cared about it. Or Steve liked her. Or Steve chose him. Some of us, are our own people!" Sam exclaimed, "And if that were you on the plane, now I'll know to leave you for death. But right now it's not, so I'm going. If you don't like it, then you should've left me to die."

"I wanted to, Sam! But I can't afford your blood on my hands, and I'll be damned if I saved you for nothing! Now, I know you know how to get out of here, and you need me until you get your suit. Work with me, before I make you," Bucky demanded, angrier than ever. This kind of hate, the hate strong enough to convince him to text his therapist. Sometimes he lost sight of it, but it always came back full force.

"I'm going to the plane crash," Sam remained stubborn, even though he saw truth in Bucky's words. He wanted to, more than anything to work together, but he was Captain America. And Captain America would not cave so easily, even if it meant death, "You can go wherever you damn please."

"We're leaving her after this," Bucky made his conditions, "All she's done is hold us back, and I want this mission over with."

A faint smirk crept its way onto Sam's face as he began walking towards the crash, "So you believe she's alive?"

Bucky grew more irritated as he followed, "I believe you're a piece of shit."

Sam burst into laughter, only making Bucky more frustrated, "Stop that."

"What was it —oh yeah—lighten up, Buck!" Sam quoted, only making himself laugh even more. He's pretty sure he makes himself laugh more than anyone else, which was okay with him.

"Stop calling me that!"

"I'll call you whatever I want!" Sam sassed, "Don't forget that you need me."

"I'm starting to think death isn't as bad as you are," Bucky retorted, meaning every word. He couldn't stand being in Sam's presence; he wasn't even sure how Sam could stand his.

But he followed Sam anyway, pushing every unnecessary word that came out of Sam's mouth to the back of his mind. Then he pushed Sam's next comment about how he'll be good to the back of his mind. Then he clenched his metal fist as he sucked in a breath,

And pushed that southerly sensation to the back of his mind.