Phantom ▷ b. barnes [1] ✔️

xxvii. mission no.3

"Don't burn out, don't burn out on me." -- Burn Out, Imagine Dragons

~ ~ ~

The end of May finally rolled around and their mission to Czechoslovakia was on the horizon. Bucky met her outside her apartment with a smile on his face and a peck on the forehead. Sam laughed happily, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked to SSR headquarters.

Despite her smile, though, she was nervous.

For reasons she couldn't let him know.

They followed the hall toward the briefing room, when she saw Howard come up the stairs from his lab. His eyes widened as he caught her gaze and he jerked his head back. She came to a stop.

"Smalls?" Bucky tilted a brow. "Everything good?"

"Yeah," she forced a smile, trying to smother any other tells she might be showing. Bucky seemed to be able to read better than she could herself, concern flickering in his eyes. "I'll catch up with you, yeah? I need to do something, first."

He bit his lip. "Smalls?"

"I'm alright," she smiled softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. His face softened and he nodded, backing up with a salute.

"Just don't be too late. Phillips will have your head."

"He can try."

"Well, he'd have to get through me first."

Her heart did a little flip and Sam grinned, watching him until he turned the corner. Her stomach clenched, then. She hoped more than anything that Howard and Meg had figured out a solution. But she couldn't help to think that wasn't the case.

Glancing around, she hurried down the stairs, into the lab that had become all too familiar. She'd sworn to herself she would become a test subject again. But she'd given so much blood in the last few days, she might as well give an arm and a leg too. Maybe a kidney.

"Stark." She nodded her head in greeting, smiling widely at Meg. The girl's dancing blue eyes smiled back. She'd seemed so much happier, lately.

It was a nice sight to see.

"Clarence," Howard grinned charmingly. Moving over to where she'd sat, he fell on the chair beside her, setting a small box on the table. The smirk faded off his lips and he eyed her. "We've got what you requested."

"What is it?"

Carefully, he pulled the lid off, revealing a circular capsule, much like the watch she'd been wearing, except with no band. She blinked, looking back at him.

"I don't understand."

"Well, a simple band isn't going to be able to do the job. What you're wearing now can track your statistics, keep your numbers. But if we're going to change that data," he hesitated. "It's got to be something skin-deep."

Sam's brows raised. "You mean...?"

Meg came over, the comfort in her eyes soothing. Sam hated needles; but she hated blades, razors, and anything that went and stayed in her skin ever more. This... this took her back to her time in capture. When Zola would stick things in her and leave them to see what happened, what kind of readings would come back.

"I don't know if I can do that," she whispered. She hated herself for being too weak. But the idea of sinking this circular capsule in her arm...

"You don't have to, Sammy," Meg said softly. "This is dangerous. If your body speeds up without the solution being definite, it can... it will cut down your time left. And if we still can't find a perfect cure by then..."