Chapter Text
Bucky tensed immediately.
Sam let out an annoyed groan, rubbing his face. “Redwing, I swear —” He checked his wrist device mid-sentence, freezing. His expression darkened.
Bucky noticed. “What?”
Sam frowned, tapping through the drone’s surveillance feed.
“Uh… we’re not alone.”
Bucky’s posture straightened. Why just now? Who could it be?
Carefully, they moved toward the edge of the hut, staying low, using the vantage point to scan the forest below.
And that’s when they saw him.
John Walker.
Oh no. Really? Of all people?
At first, Bucky thought Walker was pacing. Training. Maybe even setting something up out here.
But no.
He wasn’t moving.
He was just standing there, staring at nothing.
His shoulders were slumped, his posture unsteady. He looked wrecked.
No shield. No gear. Just him.
And then, almost too casually, Walker pulled something from his pocket.
A gun.
Bucky cursed under his breath.
Sam stiffened next to him. His voice was quieter now, more measured. “Shit.”
Walker turned the gun over in his hands, gripping it tightly. Then, his fingers trembled as he raised it—pointing it at his own head.
Bucky’s stomach dropped.
Walker let out a breath—half a laugh, half something broken.
That was enough.
Sam moved.
Bucky grabbed his arm instinctively. “Sam..“
"We can't just stand here."
No, they couldn't. And this was the worst interruption of a kiss ever.
They moved fast, making their way down the hill.
They tried not to be too loud, but it was difficult.
They didn’t want to stand by and watch John pull the trigger.
The sound of their footsteps on dry leaves made Walker flinch. His head snapped up, his grip on the gun tightening before he registered who it was.
For a second, he just stared at them.
He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.
Then, he scoffed. "What the hell do you two want?"
Sam lifted his hands slightly, not quite surrendering, but showing he wasn’t a threat.
“We were just in the area… And hey, what are you doing here?”
Walker let out a sharp breath. "Checking in?" His expression twisted, something bitter in his laugh. "You want to see how far I’ve fallen? How low I am?"
Bucky folded his arms, his voice flat.
"No. Don’t do this, John."
Walker let out a harsh exhale. His hand clenched around the gun, his thumb running along the edge of the trigger.
"Why not? What do I have left? I’ve got nothing. No shield. No title. No purpose. And everyone hates me. Everywhere I go, people look at me like I'm the worst thing they’ve ever seen. I can’t even show my face without someone spitting on the ground. I should’ve just—"
His breath hitched, his voice cracking at the edges.
Sam took a careful step forward. “That’s not true.”
Walker let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.
“And what the hell am I supposed to do, Wilson?"
Sam didn’t hesitate.
“Start by putting the gun down.”
For a long moment, nothing moved.
The wind rustled through the trees.
A bird called somewhere in the distance.
Walker’s fingers tightened on the grip, his knuckles white.
Bucky’s hand subtly hovered near his belt—ready, just in case.
“You think I can just walk away from all of this?” Walker whispered, his voice raw. “Like none of it happened?”
“No,” Sam admitted. “you don’t have to do this. This isn't the way, man.”
Walker’s shoulders slumped slightly, doubt creeping into his eyes. His hand shook.
Bucky stepped forward, voice quieter. “You made mistakes. So did we. But you can get up, Walker.”
Silence.
Then—slowly, hesitantly—John exhaled and lowered the gun.
Sam stepped forward cautiously, taking the weapon from his hands before he could change his mind.
For a while, no one spoke.
Then, Walker let out a shaky breath, like he was suddenly exhausted. His whole body sagged as if the weight of his thoughts had finally crashed down on him.
Sam and Bucky exchanged a glance.
"Come on, man. Come with us."
Walker hesitated. Then, finally, he nodded.
Sam considered calling for help, but John shook his head. Maybe they could convince him later.
This wasn’t what they had planned.
But they also couldn’t leave him alone like this.
“We’re heading back to our campsite,” Sam explained.
Maybe they could talk. Maybe they could help somehow.
Bucky knew John could be better—better than what he did before. They hadn’t hated each other for a while now.
But they weren’t friends, either, and Bucky didn’t trust him.
He would have rather been alone with Sam. But this? This was important.
And Sam, of course, wanted to help.
“You come out here often?” Sam asked quietly.
Walker exhaled slowly, glancing around as if seeing the forest for the first time. "Yeah," he admitted. "More than I should. It’s quiet out here... no one looking at me like I’m scum."
John shrugged, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t think anyone would notice.”
This should have been some downtime for Sam and Bucky, a chance to relax. But now? Now they had John Walker with them, and the situation had changed completely.
Bucky kept his pace steady, always a step behind Walker. He didn’t trust him, he couldnt.. not yet at least. .
Sam, though—Sam was already thinking about the next step. How to help. How to fix this.
As they approached the little place with the tent, the quiet stretched between them. Walker hesitated for a moment like he wasn’t sure he should be there.
Sam motioned toward a spot near the fireplace. “Sit down, man. Get warm.”
Walker exhaled shakily before finally stepping forward.