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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 months

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The Twin Flame - Chapter 39: "Bigger Than The Whole Sky"

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky, you were more than just a short time. And I've got a lot to pine about, I've got a lot to live without, I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"Bucky!" Sam bellows down the hall, running as fast as he can down the hall. He skids around the corner of the hospital corridor, desperate for any update on you.

He halts the second he sees Bucky.

Sam's blood immediately runs cold. He isn't quite sure what it is about the scene that does it, but he assumes the worst. It hits him like a truck. The familiar ache of dread. The silence right before the storm breaks over the horizon, before it consumes every ounce of sunshine in its path, before it consumes him.

No words appear before him in the aftermath. There's nothing to say. Nothing to do.

He watches from all the way down the hall. The nurse bows her head at Bucky, murmuring something that Sam can't quite make out from his distance. He can't bring himself to take another step forward.

It's over.

And he's not ready for that. He's not ready to turn to the last page. He knows what awaits them there. He's certain Bucky will understand and agree. They're not ready for a story that doesn't have you in it.

He'll stand in the hallway forever if it means that it's not over. He'll stay here forever if it means he doesn't have to say goodbye.

Bucky hangs his head, holding it in his hands. It's as close to the fetal position as a grown man in a hospital waiting room can get. Sam is positive that he's never seen Bucky doubled over like he's going to be sick.

The worst hangs over his head. This is it. The worst. There would never be another goodbye as hard as this one.

His lips refuse to form the words. Goodbye. It was so simple. A fleeting word with an everlasting impact. Goodbye. It tastes bitter in his mouth. It poisons all his thoughts. His mouth falls open. All that can be heard is a breath that sounds as hollow as Sam feels. Goodbye.

How do you say goodbye to something, to someone, that was bigger than the whole sky? How do you say goodbye to someone that would forever reside in your heart?

He can't help it. He can't bring himself to have hope.

After the events of tonight, with the memory of finding you lying in a pool of your own blood fresh in his mind, hope is sparse. Hope was left in the pool of blood he found you in. Hope was left in the tears, the ragged sobs Karli shed for you. Hope, was something he simply didn't have in this moment.

He can't bring himself to say words he doesn't believe.

His leadened feet start leading him to the where Bucky remains hunched over, hugging himself like his arms are the only thing holding him together.

Sam's body tenses itself on instinct, bracing himself for the most painful loss he'll ever face.

A few feet away from Bucky, Sam's hoarse voice weakly calls out, "Bucky?"

"Sam..." Bucky's head snaps up, immediately sitting up straight. He immediately sighs in relief, "Thank God, you're here."

"Is she-"

Bucky's frantic voice steamrolls over Sam's dreaded question, "They won't tell me anything, Sam. I've asked everybody in this entire fucking building and no one will tell me anything. I've yelled, begged, pleaded, threatened, and nothing. I almost put a fucking hole in the wall. I tried lying and telling them - you know, it doesn't matter what I said, they just keep tellin' me immediate family only."

"Okay. Okay," The knot in Sam's throat loosens ever so slightly. He places his hand on Bucky's shoulder, mostly to keep Bucky from angrily bounding out of his seat. "We'll figure it out."

"That's her doctor, right there," Bucky points out the doctor he watched dart in and out of the hospital waiting room all night.

"Excuse me," Sam frantically calls after the doctor.

The doctor stops in his tracks, sighing something under his break. He turns around with an expression that borders on irritation. Sam can only imagine the amount of times Bucky demanded an update. The doctor tucks his clipboard against his chest. He turns on his heels, and Sam's not sure what it is, but the doctor's expression morphs from irritation to almost apologetic at the sight of the distress on Sam's face, "As I've told your friend, sir, I can only disclose information to immediately family."

"Me," Sam insists. "I'm her immediate family, she's my sister... And I'm also her legal guardian."

The doctor quirks an eyebrow at Sam, "She's in her late twenties."

Sam frowns, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly, "Are you going to tell me how she is or not?"

The doctor's eyes flicker between Sam and Bucky for a moment. He sighs in concession, "The last update I received was about an hour ago, it was touch and go. She lost an extraordinary amount of blood. To be quite frank, I'm shocked she held on as long as she did. Take solace in the fact that your sister is a fighter."

Sam nods, the frown melting off his face back to a concerned, pained expression, "Thank you."

"As soon as I know anything, I'll come find you," the doctor assures before scurrying away.

Sam trails back to the seat beside Bucky. He slumps down beside Bucky, knowing there was nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

"I didn't think I'd be here again," Sam confesses after a long while.

They're not sure how much time has passed in silence, all they know is that hope is getting harder to hold onto with the clocking ticking over their heads. Every doctor that passes them is another that reminds them of the doctors working to save your life. They wait with bated breath for anyone to tell them anything.

"Neither did I."

"She didn't want this life." Sam isn't even sure why he's telling Bucky this. He doesn't know what point he's trying to make. He just knows that right now, there was an immense weight on him that he couldn't carry alone. "Everyone knew it. I knew it. Steve knew it. Tony knew it. Nick Fury knew it. We all knew it. And not one of us ever put a stop to it. And now, now, she just - she doesn't know a life without the next fight around the corner."

"If anyone's been there for her, it's you. Every step of the way. Good, bad, and ugly."

"I was- " Sam's breath wavers, just barely noticeable to even Bucky's super soldier hearing, "I was so concerned with fixing everything, fixing her, that I didn't even stop to ask if she was okay."

Bucky remains silent, pensively staring at his clenched hands.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Sam urges.

"I don't want to say the wrong thing," Bucky softly mutters.

"I don't think there's a right or wrong thing to say."

"I feel like a dick," Bucky exhales.

Sam chortles at the brashness of Bucky's words. It was, without a doubt, the wrong thing to say, but there was something oddly comforting about it anyway. "That's definitely not the right thing to say."

"Told you." Bucky allows a beat of silence. He's not sure Sam knows all the ways he screwed up. He's not sure he wants Sam to know how he'd broken your heart. "I just - I keep fucking up, Sam. I messed up. A lot."

"I know," Sam agrees. It surprises Bucky that Sam knows how badly he messed up. There's a part of him that still wonders if Sam really knows everything or if you left out some of Bucky's worst transgressions. He can't imagine that Sam wouldn't have at least tried to kick his ass if he knew about the things he said to you after Tony's funeral. "And I won’t lie, a part of me wants to kick your ass for leaving her like that… But an even bigger part knows it was the right thing. For both of you."

"Both of us?" Bucky questions, finally picking his gaze up off the floor.

"If you hadn’t noticed, she needed to figure out some things for herself. You both did. I know life doesn't give us a lot of guarantees, but you two-"

"Gentleman," a new, different doctor approaches, cutting off Sam. "I was your friend's surgeon tonight."

Sam and Bucky immediately jump to their feet, waiting for their next cue. Would they finally breath that long awaited sigh of relief? Would they dissipate into a puddle of tears like a crumpled up piece of paper? Sam urges with desperation thick in his voice, "And?"

"And she made it through surgery," the surgeon replies. "It was touch and go for a while. To be quite frank, there were times where we thought we lost her. She lost a tremendous amount of blood tonight. There were extensive internal injuries, but by some stroke of luck, the knife narrowly missed anything that could've done much more permanent damage."

"Can you please just skip to the part where you tell us if she's okay?" Bucky asks through gritted teeth.

The surgeon withers slightly underneath Bucky's intense glare, he nods, "She's in recovery right now. She suffered quite substantial injuries of all different kinds. Frankly, most people wouldn't have made it onto an ambulance. In any other case, I would be very weary about making any promises or guarantees for recovery, but if I were a gambling man, I'd bet on your friend."

Hope swells in Sam's chest for the first time in a very long time. He breathes a sigh of relief, raising his hands on the top of his head as he takes a long, deep breath, "So she's okay?"

"She's very lucky," the surgeon repeats. "Once she's out of recovery, we'll move her to the ICU. You can see her then."

"Thank you."

The doctor takes one singular step before stopping. He softly exhales, and turns around to face Sam and Bucky once more, "And gentlemen? A word of advice?" Sam nods, remaining silent to allow the doctor to continue. "Whatever your friend was doing tonight-"

"I told you, it was a mugging," Bucky interrupts.

The doctor nods, not believing a word of the Bucky's off the cuff cover story. It wasn't a very good cover up, even Bucky could admit that, but his concern upon arrival wasn't creating an elaborate story. No, he'd been far too rattled for that. His one and only concern was you.

"There is no scientific reason that your friend should've survived," the surgeon matter of factly states. "Whatever your friend was doing, it will get her killed. Not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but one day. Luck only lasts so long."

A heaviness tugs at Sam's heart as any trace of a smile melts off of his face as the doctor's words sink down to the very pit of Sam's stomach. He nods once more, "Thank you, Doctor."

While they wait, all Bucky and Sam can do is think about what the doctor said. They hated how right the doctor was. They hated how you were never given a choice.

Most of all, they hate the idea that one day you may not get up.

One day, you may not be so lucky.

One day, there would be a goodbye, one final goodbye, a real one. A goodbye that couldn't be taken back.

They weren't ready for that. They wouldn't ever be ready for that.

Sam can't stop thinking about what the doctor said. Not even for one second to rejoice in the fact that you survived. Yes, you survived tonight, but how long before your luck ran out? How long before your own humanity caught up with you?

You defied all scientific reason. There was no explanation. No rhyme. No reason. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, two of the greatest scientists to have walked the Earth, found nothing to explain the phenomena of you. There was no reason. Did a bird flap its wings over in Asia? Did some force will you into existence? There was no answer.

There were others, in the place from before, there were others that didn't survive. You were the lone survivor and no one could figure out how or why. There was no logical reason behind the way you always got back up. Every time, without fail. There was no reason that you lasted as long as you had. The way you got up after every fight, every battle, every loss, defied all expectation, defied everything known and then some.

But more than any of that, you were a person.

And there would be no other you. That much was clear - both to Bucky and Sam. There would never be a person that could do what you did. No person with the spirit, the heart, the goodness within them.

You weren't a scientific anomaly. Not some experiment. Not a weapon or a political pawn. Just a person.

Through it all, Sam never lost sight of that. He knew down to the depths of his bones that you never wanted this. You held your head high, fought with honor and dignity. None of it changed that this was not the life you wanted. You loved your found family. You loved Nick Fury. Steve Rogers. Tony Stark. Natasha Romanoff. The list went on and on of the reasons why you stayed.

And still, given the choice, he knows you'd give it up for a quiet life. For a life spent by the garden, soaking up the sun, life without constantly looking over your shoulder. For a life of peace.

Not that anyone asked you what you wanted. It was never a choice placed in your hands. You both were acutely aware of that.

Your future hadn't been yours in quite some time. Your dreams. Your hopes. Your aspirations. Over the years, they'd been lost, scattered and abandoned on the path to becoming a hero.

No, no one asked you what you wanted. But the worst part by far, the part that left Sam reeling and wondering, was when, or even why, he stopped asking you that too? His jaw tenses, his teeth painfully grinding together as he combs through his memory trying to remember the point that he gave up on your future too.

He couldn't remember the last time he asked you what you wanted, what you envisioned your life to be like.

"Gentlemen?" Their heads snap up. A nurse stands before the two of them, she warmly smiles at Sam and Bucky, "Your friend is out of recovery. She isn't awake quite yet, but if you'd like to see her, I can take you."

"Yes, please," Bucky hoarsely whispers, his voice breaking with despair.

The nurse moves quickly, guiding and aiming them through the labyrinth of hospital corridors. Flashes of the night come to Sam with each and every turn in the winding corridors. Before Sam can get sucked into his own memory, a familiar voice echoes through the halls, sending chills down Sam's spine.

He stands taller, moving faster as the nurse's pace quickens to find the source of the altercation. Sam's face blanches, a fresh wave of dread washing over him. He looks over to Bucky who wears a similar stunned expression. It truly was the night that wouldn't end for either of them.

"This is a hospital," a receptionist insists, standing beside a security guard who looks entirely out of his element as SWORD agents rummage through the receptionist's desk. "You can't just-"

"Would you like to be charged with obstruction of justice tonight?" the familiar voice threatens.

The receptionist doesn't shrink under the intense scrutiny nor the SWORD agents tearing up her desk for information, "This is an intensive care unit. You cannot-"

"Sam..." Bucky warns the moment that he sees the source of the familiar voice.

"We've got the room number, General," a SWORD agent announces.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sam hisses under his breath, biting back the string of curses that bubble from his mouth.

"How much trouble do you think I'd get in for killing him?" Bucky questions, his tone so clear and sharp that Sam can't be sure Bucky isn't actively planning a murder in his head.

"A lot," Sam easily replies.

Bucky's eyes flicker between the three corridors that all lead into this main room. All perfect for an escape if he did end up killing General Ross tonight. "It'd be worth it."

"Yes, it would," Sam blankly mutters, staring at the man that sent your life spiraling all those years ago. General Ross. In the flesh. Standing before the receptionist's desk, with SWORD agents flanking his sides. Sam briskly strides over, wedging himself in between General Ross and the corridor to your room, "General Ross, something tells me you're not here to drop off flowers."

General Ross deeply inhales, his face as stoic and unimpressed as ever, "Step aside, Wilson."

"Do you wanna do this here?" Sam wonders, gesturing to the room filled with nurses, receptionists, and dozens of other civilians walking through the recovery wing. "Awful lot of witnesses for SWORD to take care of."

"We are well within our jurisdiction."

"Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division," Sam states, tilting his head slightly. "Last I checked, she wasn't a sentient weapon, General."

The General quirks a challenging eyebrow. "Check again."

"You wanna say that again?" Bucky sharply threatens, taking a long step forward, stepping right in the General's face.

"You know the rules, Wilson," Ross states, ignoring Bucky all together. "Your flagrant violation of them only proves what I knew six months ago, the Asset is a danger to herself and to the general public. We'll be taking over from here."

"She has a name," Bucky seethes, Sam's extended arm the only thing holding him back from lunging at General Ross. There's an anger that simmers beneath his skin. You weren't even awake, not even conscious yet, and you were once again fighting for your life without even knowing it. He remembers that night in Latvia. The night he stitched you up. You begged him - no doctors, no hospitals. You were right. You were so entirely right. Not even at your most vulnerable, in your least threatening state, would they ever let you have peace. Even on the brink of death, they didn't care. They would do what it took.

General Ross' eyes flicker between Sam and Bucky, "I warned you both that this would happen. She can't help herself, can she?"

"She just saved New York and stopped the Flag Smashers," Bucky speaks firmly, his voice harsh and unwavering. "Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"I'd watch your mouth, Sergeant." General Ross' eyes snap over to Bucky, "You're lucky I'm not throwing you both in cuffs too."

"For what?" Sam demands.

"Aiding and abetting."

"We aren't fugitives," Sam counters.

"Karli Morgenthau certainly is," General Ross shoots back.

"I don't know where Karli Morgenthau is."

General Ross scoffs in disbelief, "You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth," Sam emphasizes. He throws his hands up in frustration, "Do you honestly think I would help Karli Morgenthau in any way, shape, or form after almost killing her? Do you think I want anything to do with her or any of the Flag Smashers?"

"The rest are dead, Wilson," General Ross states, dropping the bombshell like he's telling them that the sky is blue.

Sam inhales in shock, "What?"

"The Flag Smashers. Every enhanced individual - except the Asset and Karli Morgenthau."

Sam's spine stiffens, standing up taller as the weight of the revelation settles over him. Yes, they were misguided, but they were people. People that you believed could be more than what they were told they were. "How?"

"En route to the Raft," the General answers. "A detonator controlled from a remote location."

"And let me guess, you can't find the remote location?" Bucky guesses, quirking a knowing eyebrow at the General, his arms still crossed across his chest.

General Ross looks to Sam with an imploring look, the sharpness in his tone drops, "Can you really keep her safe? Both of them safe?"

Sam's eyes flicker up, rage lighting up his entire expression, "You want to talk about safety when they died in your custody?"

"Where is she, Sam? Before you get the both of them killed," General Ross sharply orders. "You can't keep them safe. You can't keep her safe."

"You don't know anything," Sam remarks, emphasizing each and every syllable. "About any of us."

"If you could, if you could truly protect her, she wouldn't be lying there half dead."

Sam sucks in a breath like he's been punched in the gut. The words hit him hard. It's only Bucky's rooted stance that keeps them from steamrolling over the two of them.

"Excuse me? If I may-" an unfamiliar voice interrupts, both Sam and Bucky too enthralled in their argument with General Ross to have noticed the man insert himself in their heated discussion.

"Hold on," Sam curtly interrupts, cutting the man in the red tinted glasses off. Neither Sam nor Bucky spare a second glance to the man in the suit and tie, holding a briefcase tight in his hand. "Let's not pretend that you're suddenly concerned about the health and well being of anyone other than yourself, General. You want control. You want power."

"I want order," General Ross retorts. "Something you and The Asset have no interest in keeping. Tell me where Morgenthau is. Now."

"General Ross, is it?" the unknown man pivots, turning to face General Ross. "I think my client has made it abundantly clear that he's unaware of Karli Morgenthau's whereabouts. Perhaps sending your henchman to actually search for her would be a more fruitful use of your time."

"Your client?" Sam repeats, his head snapping over to look at the lawyer.

"Client?" General Ross guffaws, his eyes snap back over to Sam, glaring at him, "A lawyer, Wilson? Do you think there's a lawyer good enough to get the three of you out of this mess? There's not a lawyer in the world that could get that criminal off the hook after what she did tonight."

"And do you think there's a jury in the world that would convict that hero in there after she single-handedly saved New York? After she stopped the Flag Smashers?" the lawyer counters, pointing in the direction of your room. He turns to Sam with an expectant look, "How many truck fulls of GRC members did my client single-handedly save tonight?"

"3," Sam chokes out, sharing an uneasy look with Bucky.

"3 trucks filled with people whose lives were save by the person you're so desperately trying to imprison. 3 trucks filled with people that I can guarantee are feeling especially gracious right now."

"She broke the law," General Ross fumes, lowering his tone to something more cold and calculating. "She knew that the second she stepped foot back in New York."

"There's not a jury in New York that would convict that woman in there," the lawyer matter of factly remarks. "You have the Accords - and that's all you have, General."

"You think I need a jury?" General Ross questions.

"Careful, General," the lawyer warns, his voice eerily calm and composed. "You're treading some very dangerous waters there."

General Ross takes a singular step toward the lawyer, this time, speaking only to him, "You do not want to make an enemy of me."

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing," the lawyer cooly retorts. "Unless you have a warrant, or my client is actually being charged with something, we're done here, General."

"Is this how you want to play this, Sam?" General Ross asks, turning back to Sam. There's a look in the General's face that tells Sam everything he needs to know, this wasn't going to end without a fight. A fight Sam had fought before and lost. Sam's eyes flicker between Ross and the unknown lawyer, a person whose name he didn't even know. Did he want to put your future into the hands of a stranger? Was General Ross right, was there even a person on this earth that could change your story's ending? What other choice did Sam have? To give up on your life without so much as a fight? Seeing the conflict warring in Sam's eyes, General Ross seizes the opportunity to tip the scale in his favor, to pour another helping of salt on Sam's fresh wounds, "I can guarantee you won't like the outcome, Wilson. You haven't in the past."

In that moment, Sam decides. You hadn't let him down. Not once. Not even when you were off fighting your own internal battles. You've always had his back. Now, it's his turn to do the same. He decides to bet on you one more time, "Have a good night, General."

A look of burning rage flashes across General Ross' face before it steels into something much more sinister. His shoulders roll back. He stands tall, looming over the three men.

And with one final verbal jab, General Ross turns on his heels, and leaves them in the wake of a first battle won, but a war just beginning, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"What just happened?" Sam exhales with a long breath.

"The court of public opinion," the lawyer cryptically responds. He turns toward Sam and Bucky, "It wouldn't be a good look to arrest someone who was critically injured while saving the city, but this won't end here. We won the battle, but the war isn't going to be as easy. General Ross is tenacious, I'll give him that. He knows what he wants and he's not going to stop until he's got his prized possession back under his thumb. You're going to need a really good lawyer."

"Well, um, not to ruin this whole moment, but who the hell are you?"

"A really good lawyer." The lawyer extends a hand out to Sam, then to Bucky, "My name is Matt, Matt Murdock, a friend thought you might need some help."

Sam quirks an eyebrow, his mouth twisting with unease, "A friend?"

"A friend," Matt repeats, his way of politely telling them that he wasn't going to divulge anything about the mysterious mutual friend that sent him.

Sam turns back to his seat, plopping down onto the hard plastic as he tenderly rubs his temples, "I just want this night to be over."

"And it will be soon," Matt promises, folding up his white mobility cane and taking the seat beside Sam. He speaks softly, but with a firmness that tells Sam how dire the situation is. "But this is only going to get worse. It's going to get ugly before it gets any better."

"I don't think it can get any worse," Sam remarks.

"It can," Matt retorts. "General Ross isn't going to go search for Karli, that's not his concern right now. Right now, he's going to use the chaos of tonight to figure out how to win. I wouldn't underestimate how far he'll take this. He's a force to be reckoned with, but so are you."

"We've fought this fight before. We lost the last time."

"You didn't have me last time."

Sam turns to face Matt, "Do you really think you can win?"

"Yes, I do," Matt insists. "At some point, General Ross lost control of the most powerful tool at his disposal. There's no regaining that control - not after tonight."

"What do you mean?" Bucky wonders, still not quite trusting the man seated before him.

"Your friend made quite the splash tonight," Matt explains. "There's videos circulating everywhere. She's the hero the city was waiting for."

"No, she's not," Sam immediately denies.

"Mr. Wilson-"

"Sam," Sam corrects.

"Sam-"

"She's not the hero the city was waiting for," Sam forcefully continues. He didn't expect Matt Murdock to understand why his offense to the statement. You weren't the hero. You spent years being the hero and he wasn't about to sign you up for yet another fight. Not this time. "She's a person. A person that is tired of fighting. She's tired. We almost lost her tonight. I'm not signing her up for another fight."

"I can understand that - so ask her."

Sam falters at Matt's suggestion. He was the first person, aside from Sam and Bucky, in a very, very long time to suggest that you should get to choose what should become of your life. "You - you want me to ask her?"

"It is her life, after all. If she says yes, I'll do everything I can help you win."

"And if she says no?"

"Then I'll do everything in my power to make sure she gets off Ross' radar."

And perhaps, Karli was right about him. Perhaps Sam was an optimistic fool. But those words tell Sam everything that he needs to know. He knows that he can trust Matt Murdock with his life. He can trust him with you. "Okay."

"So why don't we start at the beginning? From the moment General Ross lost control."

Sam sighs, rewinding back to the moment that General Ross lost you for good. The airport. It wasn't the first time you'd stepped out of line, but it was the first time you'd ever gone against direct orders. It was the first time you'd ever told him no. The ripples of that day were still felt to this very day. "It'll always come back to that day at the airport, won't it?"

"The airport?" Matt asks.

"It's a long story," Sam answers, but before he delves back into your long history, he turns to Bucky who'd stood before them staring at your door with anxiety and longing practically rolling off of him with a soft smile, "Hey, Bucky? Why don't you go in? One of us should be there when she wakes up."

Bucky nods, giving Sam a slight smile of gratitude, "Thanks."

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