"Fury just called. They're taking off right now- he won't be able to update us after that." Sam barely even acknowledges Steve's update, downing the rest of his glass. "Sam? Are you alright?"

Sam exhales roughly as he pours himself another glass. "I'm really not in the mood for stupid questions, Steve."

"Alright," Steve nods sympathetically. "You know, regardless of how things turned out, you made a real difference in her life, Sam."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Sam bitterly scoffs. "Now, I'm just another person that just abandoned her. We're all just more people that abandoned her."

"No one abandoned her- she knows that."

"Really? Because she stood right in front of me, begging me not to let them take her away. I failed- that's why she was taken, because I failed. I think that's the very definition of abandonment."

"Sam-"

"I really just want to be left alone right now, Steve," Sam grimaces, cutting whatever pep talk Steve prepared off.

"Okay, I'll be here if you want to talk," Steve mumbles, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder as he walks away.

And for Bucky, even though it's only been a few short hours, he can feel your absence everywhere.

He took off after Fury escorted you out of the building. There were no other words exchanged, he could barely breathe as Steve tightly gripped his shoulder to keep him from going after you. There was no point. Fury was right, you could run, and maybe the two of you would be okay for a little while, but he was outmatched against the resources and SHIELD's never ending reach.

So he got on his bike and drove away. He didn't think about where he was going, just that he couldn't stand to be in the place you were just ousted from.

He ended up in front of your old apartment with Sam, his jaw clenched so tightly that he had to turn away from the building. He drove away the second the tears started forming in his eyes. And like the universe was trying to tear him up a little bit more, he sees the dive bar he took you to that night. It almost breaks him- thinking about the morning after when you'd danced with him.

It was like some twisted, masochistic trip down memory lane.

For a while he got off his bike and just walked the city streets, but even that reminded him of you. The taxi cabs and busy streets, he kept watching them as if this were one of the many romantic comedies you'd forced him to watch and you'd suddenly step out of car stopped in the middle of traffic and tell him that you'd never leave him. But this wasn't a movie, and you weren't coming back.

Even on his way back inside the building, he walked right by your little garden where you'd spent so many beautiful days with him and his eyes burned with unshed tears- it already looked like it was dying without you.

He just keeps waiting, waiting for you to walk around the corner, for you to sneak up on him, for you to just be there- even though he knows you won't.

He's not sure what's worse, the fact that your presence is there even though he knows you won't be, or it all being gone like you never were there. The latter is worse, he decides. It would be worse to pretend like you were never there. It's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, he remembers hearing from somewhere.

Walking down the Compound corridors, the large windows that line the walkway bring in no light. It's almost like when his Sunshine disappeared, so did the world's.

It was the only part of today that made any sense to him, the dreary, dull world reflecting his own now that the person he loved most was gone.

And, fuck, if it isn't even harder to walk into his room. He can still smell your flowery perfume lingering in the air. He half expects you to be there, laying in his bed, mumbling incoherent phrases as you sleep next to him. He wonders if he'll ever be able to sleep in that bed again.

He can barely stand to be here as it is, you've only been gone a few short hours, and it's like you're haunting him. Everywhere he looks: the windowsill you liked to sit at, his plant that you helped him keep alive, the flowers on the nightstand that came from you.

You're everywhere- and absolutely nowhere.

What sets him off is the journal that just lies there on his dresser. You were so protective of it, and you'd just left it lying there in his room. It was yours, entirely you, your bucket list, your runaway thoughts, everything- and you didn't even get to keep it.

He knows in that very moment that he can't do this. He can't be here without you, he can't have all these memories and feelings to face alone. You have to come back. You have to be here. He looks at your journal one last time. And he does what you would do, he takes another momentary pity party, another moment to feel sorry for himself, then nods determinedly.

He's going to get you back.

He walks through the halls looking for Sam, he'd know what to do. Hell, he's probably working on a way to get you back already. He finds Sam in your room, all your belongings still in the exact same place you left them. It looks like all the life has been sucked out of the room, and he finds Sam sitting there in almost complete darkness. "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."

"What do you want?" Sam grunts.

"I want to know the plan."

"What plan?" Sam exhales in annoyance.

Bucky's taken aback for a moment, but recovers just as quickly, reminding himself that right now he has to be the strong one for you. "How we're going to get her back, Sam. We're not just going to let her take them to God knows where, with God knows who. She belongs with us."

"Yes, we are," Sam replies unexpectedly.

"What?" Bucky falters, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "What are you even talking about?"

"We're not going to do anything. We're not going to interfere anymore."

Bucky shakes his head- he's clearly not hearing Sam right. This is not the Sam that you nor him know- that Sam would fight for you with everything he had. "I don't understand the words you're saying to me right now."

"I'm saying that the asset is safer away from New York. Away from the Avengers."

"She's safer with us. With the people that know and love her."

"The asset-"

"If you call her an asset one more time, I'm going to put your head through the wall," he snaps. He realizes that isn't what you would say or do, but he brushes off that minor detail- it just sounds so wrong. Like you're not a real person, he can expect that from SHIELD, just not from Sam.

"She's better off," Sam grunts, standing up off your desk chair and walking out of your room into the hallway. Bucky steps in front of him, keeping Sam from walking away. "We were just going to get her killed," Sam sneers, doubling down on the sentiment.

"That's not true," Bucky fumes, pushing Sam into the wall.

"Really? Because she almost died a month ago. She almost died taking a bullet- for you," Sam accuses, pushing Bucky back.

Bucky's eyebrows furrow at Sam, slowly putting the pieces together. And when the realization hits him, his wide, brokenhearted eyes snap up at Sam.

And it all suddenly makes so much sense.

The last month, how you said you thought Sam was pulling away from you.

How you thought he was acting strange all the time.

How, even before Fury told them the news, Sam wouldn't look at you.

Bucky sucks in a breath, "You knew." Sam remains completely silent, keeping his eyes down and away from Bucky's intense glare. He takes Sam's long silence as his answer. "How long- How long did you know?"

"What?"

"How long did you know?" Bucky repeats, malice dripping from his voice.

Sam takes a long, deep breath before speaking. "Nick warned me about the evaluation after she got shot. Seems like that was the last straw. They decided 2 weeks ago," Sam mutters, eyes staring down at the floor.

Bucky shakily exhales, stumbling back in shock, feeling Sam's words like a fresh slap in the face, like salt was being poured over his shattered heart. "You let them take her from me. You knew- you knew and you said nothing!"

"There was nothing I could do! They'd already made up their mind."

"We could've figured it out together," Bucky shouts.

"There was nothing to figure out!"

"You lied right to my face- right to her face! What happened to honesty? Telling each other the truth, huh? You looked her right in the eye and told her everything was okay. How is any of this okay?"

"She'll be alive. Safe."

"Why?" Bucky whispers, the pain of the heartbreak and betrayal constricting his airway.

"She'll be alive- that's what matters," Sam glowers.

"But why did you let me think that we had a chance!" Bucky thunders, his shaky hands running through his hair. "Do you know how fucking stupid I feel right now?"

"Bucky..."

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you knew and you let me think we were going to..."

"I'm sorry. I-"

Bucky raises his hand to cut him off. "I know I, uh, I don't really have a leg to stand on with disappointment and- and letting people down, but I have never, ever, been so disappointed in you."

"Bucky, I'm-"

Bucky exhales in disbelief one last time, staring at his best friend who just lied to him for the last month. He shakes his head, blindsided by this new revelation, "I'm going to get her back- with or without your help."

Sam doesn't have anything to say, he doesn't try to stop Bucky as he storms away from him, he just walks back into your room, slumping back down on your desk chair.

He's not sure how long he sits there, keeping himself from playing it all back, trying not to think about the moment he'd turned his back on you. 

His heart just keeps breaking, over and over.