All Too Well

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"And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too?"

"So?"

"The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they've only found her followers," Joaquin quietly informs Sam, the two of them standing in a now empty gymnasium just searched and torn apart by the GRC. "They've searched this camp, and just like the last camp, nothing. She's gone. Don't think we'll ever find her."

"And what about?" Sam finishes his question with a silent insinuation and a knowing look.

"You were right," Joaquin agrees. "And Captain America killing a foreign national in public, it's kinda a big deal. They've got the whole thing on video, so international incident big deal. Higher ups are all over it now, but there's, uh, been a few unfamiliar faces poking around. Asking about certain things, people, caught on video. Throwing Ross' name around."

"That's what I was worried about," Sam groans, rubbing his temples with one hand. "Damn it."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Joaquin offers. "If they would've had something, Ross would already be here gloating."

"Probably," Sam concedes.

"They cordoned off the whole camp already, took everything and left about an hour ago," Joaquin continues. "Without finding anything, I might add."

"Anything?" Sam emphasizes.

Joaquin snorts with a roll of his eyes, "I'm pretty good at hiding things, Sam."

Bucky stands at the entrance of the gymnasium, a bruise now painting his cheekbone after his scuffle with John. He crosses his arms, an unimpressed frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She's in the room behind you, isn't she?"

"Hey!" Joaquin exclaims, surprised at Bucky's sudden reappearance. Joaquin looks at Bucky standing there with his jacket, and the sleeve he'd torn off before jumping off the plane now back in place. "Look at that, you've got your sleeve back."

Bucky maintains his unimpressed expression, his frown deepening at Joaquin.

"Are you off to take care of Zemo?" Joaquin asks.

Bucky's jaw clenches, because yes, he was going to take care of Zemo, but he had one more loose end to tie before he could focus on anything else.

Joaquin tries to hide his knowing smirk, nudging his head to the door behind him. Bucky rolls his eyes and doesn't respond to Joaquin's silent assumption, instead breezing past him without another word.

"Okay, good to know you survived!" Joaquin calls after Bucky.

He watches you as you sit perched on a folding table, swinging your legs. Your head is down, staring intently at the floor.

You were a person who used stare up at the sky in unbridled awe and wonderment, never to the floor beneath your feet in contempt.

He can't help but remember the last time he approached you like this. How badly he fucked it all up. He knew there was no taking back the things he said nor the way he treated you.

He knew if he'd given you, hell, given himself, half a chance, things would probably be very different. You wouldn't be sitting there all alone. He wouldn't have spent months in exile.

It was an entirely self inflicted wound.

He told himself that you deserved someone who could give more than half a chance. Someone not so fucked in the head. He convinced himself he saw something that wasn't there. You were being nice. He was reading into it. You could never tether yourself to someone like him.

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