desolate || bucky barnes

t w o

"Buck! On your left!" Sam Wilson yelled from the sky. Bucky was on a moving truck going about 80 miles an hour, fighting with some more super soldiers.
Bucky turned to his left and ducked just in time for one of the guy's arms to swing hard and fast above his head. In an instant, he swept the man's legs out from under him, causing him to fall off of the truck. "I'm getting some serious deja vu and I'm really not liking it!" He had just Spartan-kicked the last super soldier off the truck as Sam landed beside him. "You couldn't get here any sooner?"
"Well, I didn't want to mess up the new suit!"
"It is a really nice suit. Don't take this the wrong way, but it looks really good on you."
"James Buchanan Barnes, are you flirting with me?" Sam mockingly touched a hand to his own chest and chuckled.
"No, but now I regret trying to be nice-" BOOM! The bridge in front of them collapsed, causing the rogue driver of the 18-wheeler to jerk the steering wheel to avoid falling into the lake below them. Bucky was thrown off the moving truck violently. "Sam!" He had flashbacks to the first time he fell off a moving vehicle. Back to when he lost his arm. And his freedom.
"Shi-" Sam grabbed Bucky from under his arms and used his suit's wings to get them both off the truck's trailer just before it slid off into the water, carrying the newly reproduced Serum with it. Whatever was left would be destroyed by the impact and the salty water. But that didn't mean that it wouldn't stop being reproduced.
Looking down carefully, Sam set Bucky down on the edge of the broken bridge. "That was a close one, Sam," Bucky heaved, on the verge of a panic attack.
"A little too close for my liking... Hey man? Are you alright?" Captain America noticed it was taking longer than usual for the old man to bounce back.
"Just- it got a little too-" he was struggling to breathe and was shaking. No, no, no! This can't be happening! I'm getting better! NO!
"Bucky, it's okay. We're on solid ground. HYDRA isn't coming to get you. That's over with." The two usually bickered and picked on each other but veterans, such as themselves, know when to quit joking and be serious. Sam saw this all the time back when he ran a support group for veterans.  PTSD was a pain in the a-
"Yeah I know! I just can't- I can't catch my-" he breathed heavier, more shallow breaths.
"Are you sure it's not just because you're old?" Sam couldn't help but pick on Bucky, knowing him well enough to understand a little joke like that won't freak him out further, but make him connect back to the present easier.
"Real funny, Dodo Bird!"
"Falcon! My name was The Falcon!" He noticed Bucky's breathing slowly steady. Knowing that he wouldn't go into anymore detail about his panic attack, so Sam decided to change the subject. "Well whoever's reproducing this junk needs to not."
"You're tellin' me. I was getting used to being the only person in the world with this junk in my veins." He'd found a vile laying on the ground, so close to rolling off the makeshift cliff in front of the men. He shoved it in his jacket pocket before Sam could see. I'm gonna get this to Banner and see if he can make an antiserum. This can't keep happening.
"Well other than Walker." Sam paused, the gears in his head working rapidly. "Walker!"

* * *

Genevieve wanted nothing to do with the old man who was trying to tell her she didn't know what she was talking about when it came to all things related to tools and the like. She can admit when she's wrong, but she knew that what she was telling him was correct. "Sir, I don't know what else you want me to do. I know what I'm talking about."
"Just get me ya fatha and I'll be on my way outta here!" Everyone in town knew Genna and the twins knew their way around the shop and the things it carried, so this old coot must have been new to the area. That, or senile.
"My dad disappeared! I'm the only one in New York who knows more about this project of yours than you ever could, douchebag! Do you want my help or do you want to keep being misogynistic outside?!" She'd had enough. She really missed her parents. This whole raising teenagers and running a family business by herself thing was really taking its toll on her. Genna had never snapped on a customer, not even the kids who spilled the paint on the floor a few days prior, but this was all becoming too much.
The old man mumbled curses at her and stomped out of the building. She checked her watch: it was 2 o'clock on the dot. The boys don't get out of school until 4:00. With the stress of what just went down, everything within her told her to close the shop for the day. For the first time in a long time, she listened to her body.
She decided not to sweep or do any kind of  cleaning and just leave it for the twins to deal with later. I need to tell them I'm closing early.