Bucky lay on his bed in the dark, the window open and the overhead fan spinning so fast he couldn't see the blades in the dim light of the early, early morning.
It was warm and muggy and the drone of locusts in the trees was settling down as night was almost over. July in Louisiana was like a slow, warm exhalation. Where better to leave behind the Winter Soldier than in a place where summer was a palpable force?
He'd thrown his sheets off long before and just lay in the breeze of the fan.
The ceiling was bumpy, a popcorn ceiling they called it, and the walls were covered in a floral wallpaper that looked like it had seen better days. Didn't help that Bucky had opened the door too hard and popped a hole in the drywall with the doorknob.
He needed to fix that. But Nate didn't mind. He'd offered to rent Bucky the room, and as he lived only three blocks from Sam and Sarah and the boys, Bucky had thanked him and moved in. The house didn't have AC and smelled like smoke and bacon and whatever tropical-looking flower was blooming outside his window. He liked it.
Not that Bucky wouldn't have rather stayed with Sam and Sarah, but the couch was really all they could spare and he didn't want to be in Sarah's way all the time. There was, of course, the queen bed in her room, but... Bucky shook his head.
Sam was not cool with even the idea of Sarah and Bucky. He hadn't warned him off flirting with her since that first time, but sometimes when he introduced Bucky to friends, he'd say, "He's like a brother to Sarah and me." Which was, of course, not true. He and Sam fought half the time, and he and Sarah...
Still it was a nice thing for Sam to say and ensured a warm welcome for Bucky. Bucky could almost assume it was an innocent comment, except for the times Sam rubbed it in. Like when Bucky and Sam had come back last week after being gone for nearly ten days. He and Sam drove up to the dock and Sarah was walking out toward them. She started smiling when she saw they were both in the truck and almost ran for a half step before pulling herself in and walking the remaining distance.
Bucky had sighed deeply, happily. He didn't mean to annoy Sam (not right that second, anyway) but this place and Sarah were contentment for him. He breathed in her happy face and breathed out everything else.
"Think sister," Sam had hissed while getting out of the truck. He'd said that before.
Bucky had rolled his eyes. Sarah wasn't his sister and he certainly didn't think of her that way. Still, she'd hugged Sam straight out, relieved to see him, and then done a weird side hug with him. Bucky would've let his arm linger there, she fit really well next to him, but Sam's glare sort of ruined the moment.
But today was 4th of July, and it was going to be different. Bucky was going to make it different.
The fireworks had started yesterday. Most people were saving their own fireworks for the evening of the 4th, but there'd been enough sporadic pops and booms last night to keep him on the bleeding edge of tense. He'd gotten a few hours of sleep, maybe. Now he was just waiting until a more acceptable time of the morning to get up and head to the store to buy food and fireworks. Sarah'd already gotten some fireworks for the boys, but he and Sam were planning to get some bigger ones to shoot off from the boat. Bucky was charged with buying them and getting them on the boat this morning without her or the boys finding out about the surprise.
Then he'd head over to the house with food and hang out with them while Sam spent the day in Houston for a Captain America event. Sam'd left yesterday, but promised to be back by dinner so they could eat and go out on the boat.
It was a lot easier to deal with a bad night when he had a great day to look forward to. His body had reacted to the pops with adrenaline and heightened awareness, but his mind had been at peace. He'd traced the floral patterns with his eyes and let his mind wander backwards and forwards to his and Sam's latest jobs, the last time he'd talked to Sarah, the plans for the 4th, the next time he'd talk to Sarah...
Yeah, she was a decent portion of his equanimity.
He glanced at the old-fashioned digital clock on the night table. It was nearly 6am now. Plenty late enough.
Bucky rose, shaved, and hit the shower, keeping the water cool since the air was already warming up. Then he got some of Nate's Bisquik out of the fridge and made pancakes for the both of them. The older man usually woke up around six, couldn't sleep in if he wanted to, he'd told Bucky. But sometimes he was slow to rise or just chose to read in bed. When Bucky didn't see him, he put Nate's pancakes on a plate and left them in the microwave so no flies could get to them.
He grabbed his phone and wallet and carefully closed the screen door after himself so it wouldn't slam.
He'd bought a truck for himself. He might have gotten a motorcycle, but you couldn't carry much in a motorcycle. No room for tools, groceries, kids, Sarah...
It was a green Ford from the '90s, an old truck, apparently, but not old enough for him, since he still couldn't always figure out how to fix it. And not new enough for Sam, who'd groaned, "You can run faster than this thing, Bucky."
Bucky slid behind the wheel and headed for the illegal firework place south of town. He'd glanced at the map on Sam's phone yesterday and memorized where it was. The boys kept trying to get him used to Google Maps, but Bucky had already learned the general area pretty well. A few minutes studying the location of a new place was enough to lock it in. And he didn't even have to kill anyone when he got there.
He wished he could tell his therapist he was edging into assassin-related humor.
But before he made it, his phone buzzed. It was Sarah.
Bucky grabbed it. "Sarah. Everything okay?"
"No, it's Cass." The boy was breathless. "They took mom. Two guys in brown jumpsuits, but not military, I don't think. They just... She went out to the mailbox. A van screeched up and these two guys dragged her in and pulled away. It was so fast! I only saw 'cause I was trying to open the bathroom window and it got stuck—"
Bucky spun his truck on the empty three lane road. The tires skidded for a second, but he turned into it and the tires bit when he wanted them to. He hit the gas going the opposite direction, back toward Delacroix. "Cass, the van: what color? What'd it look like?"
"Um... tan, kinda boxy. I didn't see the plate or anything. I'm so stupid! I should've—"
"It's okay, Cass. I'm so glad you saw anything. Tinted windows? Bumper sticker? Anything else?"
"No windows in the back, just the front. Had some words and a stripe painted on the side. Some kind of logo with an M."
"Good boy. Which direction did they go?"
"Took a right at the end of our street, but past that I couldn't see. I should've run after them, but I couldn't think..."
"You did think. You got her phone and called me. How long ago you think this happened. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Did it take you a while to find the phone?"
"No, she left it by the kitchen sink. Maybe five minutes?"
"Did you try Sam first?"
"N-no." He sounded a little surprised as he said it. Maybe apologetic.
Bucky felt a tightening in his chest; he'd been the first call Cass made. "That was a good idea, since I'm closer. But now, you call Sam, and I'll call the police."
"Okay. AJ is here."
"Good. Hold him close and call Sam. I'll call you back after I get the police."
Bucky continued flying down the road, his old truck rattling unhappily around him as he dialed 911 and told the local police of the abduction. He didn't immediately identify himself, but he did say that it was Captain America's sister and they transferred him to the police chief.
Little Delacroix didn't have a police chopper or anything like that, more's the pity, but the chief—a guy Bucky and Sam had spoken with several times about security—immediately ordered officers to the Delacroix freeway that led to New Orleans, looking for the van Cass described. He sent others to crisscross the town.
The police chief was already sending extra patrols down Sarah's road whenever Sam was out of town, which Sarah didn't know. He was a good guy, though both he and Sam somehow couldn't picture violence reaching into their little town for one of their citizens. Even Sam, despite Karli Morgenthau's threats about Sarah last year, didn't really picture her being at risk.
Bucky could see it. The longer he'd spent with Sarah, the more he'd wanted to make sure she was safe. He'd changed her locks. He'd replaced the upper window that couldn't be locked, even though she'd said it didn't really matter.
But now it had happened anyway. Bucky cursed his own complacency, that he'd chosen to rent Nate's room instead of staying on her couch. So what if it was a little awkward? If he'd been there...
Bucky stopped that train of thought. Not productive.
He sped through the town, running red lights when he could get away with it. It helped that it was barely seven in the morning and most people were sleeping in for the holiday.
It was only half a mile on the north side of town that he saw the van. It was a dirty khaki color and said Mike's Extermination on the side. It sat off to the side, back hanging open.
Bucky skidded to a stop on the gravel shoulder of the highway and threw himself out of the truck at a run.