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Sam gazed up at the three moons that hung above the Wilson Family Rodeo and Trick Show, each one smaller than the other. They reflected different colors depending on the season, but since it was the longest season, they reflected crimson down upon the people of Hades. Sam had read once that Hades was given its name partially because of that. That and the immensity of its desert, which covered most of the livable land. It was supposedly some joke by the scientists of whatever ancient society found and began haphazardly terraforming with minor success the planet Sam was born on. But most of that data was lost to time, lost before Hades had broken its connection to that mythical, distant homeworld during the Great Collapse a thousand years before Sam’s time.
Sam didn’t tend to think too much about where those unusable spacecrafts came from long ago. There wasn’t much use in thinking about that. Because Hades was his home. The Wilson Family Rodeo and Trick Show was his home. And Sam, like most people on this hot, dry world, had more pressing things to worry about.
Like Sam’s show.
“Ready?” asked Sarah, leaning on the wall of the tunnel that led out to the arena before him.
Sam glanced over to Bucky.
Bucky didn’t talk much, really. Not before a show. Not near crowds. Sam liked that. He liked that he and Bucky had developed a shorthand of glances and subtle gestures over the years that allowed them to communicate without words. It felt special, in a way. And it was indispensable in a tough spot.
Bucky pulled his hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes.
He gave a shrug as if to say “I’m ready when you are”.
“Yeah,” said Sam, clapping Sarah’s shoulder before he adjusted his hat, “We’re ready.”
Sam knew that there was a speaker somewhere booming his name as he and Bucky walked out onto the arena, but all Sam could hear was the cheering of the crowd. Sam smiled at them, waving to the stands of people. Sam felt alive in front of thousands of people, doing tricks that had been passed down for generations.
The arena stretched, the stands moving as the space became a gun range, Bucky far in the distance as he casually reached into his pocket, pulling out an ace of hearts. On the screen focused on Bucky, Sam could see the man he loved wink at him.
In an instant, Sam pulled out his rifle, slicing the card in half with one bullet. The crowd cheered as Sam gave a little tip of a hat to them all.
It felt like a dance. Because, in a way, it was. There was a rhythm to what they did; a slow beat that built as Bucky provided more items to hit from afar with flourish and more complex things for Sam to keep in mind as he did the math of just where he should be angling his gun.
Bucky held out a joint between his fingers; Sam shot in half. Bucky juggled cardboard discs with one inch of lead on the edge high into the air; Sam hit bullseye on every disk. Bucky threw a tin can into the air; Sam pulled out his revolver and spun himself around, stopping in the perfect position every time to shoot at the tin can, only making one clean hole in and out of the can with six bullets. Bucky tossed a coin in the air, an old dime from times long forgotten; Sam turned around bent down, shot it between his legs. As various metal pots and pans moved up into different random places, Bucky took his hat off and placed an apple on his head. Bucky started walking. Sam used the angles of the moving pots and pans to bounce a bullet, the bullet ricocheting until it hit the center of the apple.
Because Sam was amazing at what he did.
Sam bowed to the crowd, smiling and waving at them as he ended his show. Sam didn’t need the crowds to cheer him on, but at the same time, it felt validating. To know that people liked what he did. Thought he was good at it.
But there was a sense Sam had. That someone was watching him. Not just for his show, but for something else. He had these senses sometimes. It was explained to Sam when he was younger that it was left over from their ancestors before the Great Collapse. That a lot of people used to have enhanced capabilities before the apocalypse came and went, and that some were still passed down from generation to generation.
Sam held onto that sense as he and Bucky walked back to the tunnel that led them backstage.
“Someone here for us?” asked Bucky.
Bucky didn’t have what Sam had. He didn’t have a sense like that. But after years together, he knew Sam’s tells.
“We’ll see,” said Sam, always cautious to predict anything just from that prickly feeling at the back of his neck.
Bucky snorted, as if to tell Sam, “Like you’ve ever been wrong before.”
Sam felt Bucky’s hand grip his shoulder, massaging out any tension. Sam leaned into the touch. He felt the drop in adrenaline after a good show.
“Are you sure you’re up for any avenging?” whispered Bucky.
Sam knew if he said no, Bucky would put a stop to it. He’d make sure that Sam had the time and space to properly rest before helping others. Sam liked that about Bucky. Sam took a moment to really think about it. Because Sam did deserve to take care of himself, even if Bucky had to remind him to do so sometimes.
“I’m… good,” said Sam as he nodded, “I’ll be fine.”
Bucky’s arm moved, holding Sam close.
“Okay,” said Bucky, turning them towards the backstage exit.
*****
Sam’s home was pretty modest by most standards. It was a small home, only a story tall. Just enough room for himself and Bucky for now, though, Sam wasn’t opposed to expanding it for whatever the future might hold for him and Bucky. For now, Sam was happy with his wooden home and its stable for Redwing and its cat door for Alpine and Figaro.
Sam loved his life here. It had been a few years since they settled here, right outside of Delacroix. For years, he and Bucky had made their home in the guest bedroom of Sarah’s home, and while Sam and Bucky had both loved being so close to Sarah and the boys, having their own space?
It was priceless.
No longer would a nephew point out Sam gazing at Bucky from afar. Sarah wouldn’t laugh at Bucky over drooling as he lost himself in watching Sam train. There wouldn’t be awkward moments where Sam wanted to do more, but there were children. There wouldn’t be made scrambling to put on clothes and cover up boners as they heard Sarah walk back into the house early. There would always be things Sam missed about living with them. Family dinners every night, helping AJ and Cass with their homework, having family card nights. But Sam was happy he and Bucky decided to carve their own space into Hades. To have a place of their own.
Sam could barely believe there was a time he hadn’t known his one-armed love. It was strange to think that ten years ago, Sam was just an exhibition sharpshooter who went out on his own to save towns. Sam liked being able to lean on someone. To lean on Bucky. Tall, strong, kind Bucky who always made him laugh. Who sucked at poker and knew how to get all the cricks out of Sam’s neck. Who he was building a life with along with their two cats and Sam’s falcon.
Sam glanced over to Bucky once they got to their porch. Bucky nodded, turning instantly to point his revolver at the man that had followed them all the way home.
Sam might be the trick shooter in the show, but that didn’t mean Bucky was a slouch. In fact, he and Bucky were almost neck and neck in terms of sharpshooting.
“If you’re here to cause trouble, I suggest you push a barrow,” yelled Sam out to the darkness.
He knew someone was there. He had the sense, after all. A connection to all things natural that rarely let Sam down. And a particularly thick Joshua tree in the distance was telling Sam there was a man next to him watching Sam and his man.
Sam grabbed a lantern from their porch, lighting it with a match as he cast light onto the distant desert expanse. There, behind that Joshua tree, stood a young man raising his hands in surrender.
“I heard I could come to you,” called the young man, stepping out into plain sight, “When you need someone to fight like Kilkenny cats on your behalf. When you need to get shed of a group of high binders squeezing your town out of everything they’re worth. When a bad egg is causing the ruination of your home. You come to the Captain and his Winter Soldier. Acreocracy dies at the hands of the bettermost sharpshooter in all of Hades and his assistant. Big bugs quake in their boots when they hear of you coming to their town. When someone needs avenging, Sam Wilson and his strange one-armed partner’s the people who you find.”
Bucky grimaced at that as he lowered his gun.
“Bosh. I’m not strange. I’m just not from this time,” grumbled Bucky.
Sam had found him.
In one of those ancient space ships from that far-off planet that felt like a fable. That was how Sam at least knew the tales were true about some distant homeworld. But it wasn’t like Bucky had memories of that place. No, he was from here too. He was supposed to travel from here to that distant homeworld. That was, until his ship fell back down onto Hades in a crash landing, from what Sam could tell. A lot of ships that day had fallen out of the sky, from what everyone could tell. With everyone else on board dead, there had been no one to wake Bucky up from his cryosleep. That was, until Sam.
That had been a decade ago, though. Bucky, for the most part, was pretty well-adjusted to what Hades was now.
Joaquín, like most people, didn’t look like he believed Bucky’s words. Hell, Sam probably wouldn’t if he hadn’t been there to help the man out of that cryochamber. Sam rubbed Bucky’s back, hoping that would make his man feel better. Bucky felt a little less annoyed, but still… not that happy.
“What’s your name?” asked Sam as he just felt Bucky grimace harder, “What did you want to ask us?”
“Name’s Joaquín. Joaquín Torres,” said the young man, “And I come from the town of River Styx. We’re being strangled. Hydra moved into our town a few months back. Burned all the plants that maintain breathability. They’re forcing us to pay for these plants that wither after a month.”
Sam bristled at the thought. The long-lasting impact of forcing people to live in a barely breathable town, but what crops manipulated by genetic use restricted technology did to the soil in that town, the environment.
Bucky placed a hand on the back of Sam’s neck. Sam… relaxed. Being calm was betting in these situations. Sam glanced at Bucky. Bucky nodded. They both exchanged a little smile. Sam knew he probably shouldn’t, it wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t help it – he stole a quick kiss from Bucky. Bucky looked absolutely enraptured with Sam. Sam’s smile grew.
“Um… my town?” Joaquín said, reminding Sam of his existence.
Well. Time to go to work.
“Do you know how to use a gun, Jay?” asked Sam.
Joaquín blinked.
“Yeah,” said Joaquín.
“Then we’ll travel together,” said Sam as Bucky set off a flare, signaling all the way to the town of Delacroix where Sam’s sister lived that the exhibition shooting show would be put on hold.
“I came by stagecoach,” said Joaquín as he followed Sam to his stable, “I don’t know if I can keep up with you. I wasn’t even sure if you’d agree to my request. The town has no money.”
“We don’t do what we do for money,” said Bucky as he began to open the stable.
“And we should be able to take you there with us just fine,” said Sam as Redwing, a peregrine falcon half the size of Sam’s home, stepped outside of his stable.
*****
Sam loved taking flight.
The wind on his face. The feeling of absolute freedom. The way he could see beyond the horizon, feel every plant under him. He felt more connected to Hades above ground than on. Sometimes, he felt as if he could lose himself up there. That if he wasn’t careful, he would just fly off into the horizon and never ground himself again. Just Sam and Redwing, bonded by the sense Sam inherited, flying free in the sky.
Then, he thought of Sarah and her boys. He thought of Bucky and what family they might have someday. He thought of his cats. He thought of all the people who watched his exhibition shooting shows. He thought of all the people who would benefit from his abilities. Sam grounded himself with humanity.
“It should be coming up on the right!” Joaquín yelled from behind Bucky.
They had been flying all night, the belt of Venus slowly superseding the starry night sky, a vibrant lighting of the sky that wasn’t quite sunrise yet. If Sam wasn’t in a hurry to help anyone, he would have stayed up there until the dusky sunrise crept past the distant horizon.
But Sam had a job to do.
Sam steered Redwing down to the ground, a little ways away from the town of River Styx. Sam could sense that there was once a river here. Long, long ago. But it had long since dried up, and its only remnant was the town that was named after it.
Sam could feel it. Even this far away from the town. Even with the flora surrounding them. He could feel how thin the oxygen was. He could feel the people of River Styx barely wheezing enough air in to survive.
“Shouldn’t we get closer?” asked Joaquín.
“Let him do his thing,” Bucky answered.
This hadn’t been Sam’s first go fighting Hydra. His first had been when Sam had first met Bucky. He had heard rumors of them, knew the nefarious gang was encroaching into territories near Delacroix, but he hadn’t spotted anyone who worked for them until Sam found the fully functioning cryochamber that had held Bucky Barnes. Opening it had caused an emergency beacon to activate. It brought every sinister organization hellbent on finding still working tech from the old world came to Sam’s territory, Hydra being the worst of them all.
He knew the heartbeats of Batroc the Leaper, Brock Rumlow, Armin Zola, the Red Skull; Sam knew how they felt. They squirmed in Sam’s senses like poison. They made Sam taste metal, smell rotting fruit on the tree.
“There’s maybe ten of them, tops. They’ve commandeered the mayor’s residence,” Sam said as he stood up, “The only big player here is the Leaper.”
Bucky nodded.
“You hang back and make sure none of them escape with Redwing,” Bucky told Joaquín as he tossed the young man an equalizer.
“You two are taking on ten highly trained gunslingers?” asked Joaquín, “All on your own?”
Sam shrugged.
“It’s what we do,” said Sam as he and Bucky started their trek towards the town.
The two walked to town down the long, desert path. Of prickly pears and brittlebushes and agave.
Sam could sense the terror. The fear that gripped the town by the Hydra grunts keeping them hostage and bullying them out of all that they owned. It was overwhelming. It always was. Feeling so much loss and terror.
Bucky bumped into Sam’s hip.
“Remember when we almost got the Red Skull over in Damnation?” mused Bucky, “What was that? Thirty men?”
Sam grinned softly. He could tell what Bucky was doing. Maybe it should be annoying, but it wasn’t. No, Sam reached out for him, and Bucky held his hand. Sometimes, Sam wished that was all the world was. Just Sam and Bucky holding hands.
But it wasn’t just that.
“Forty-two. And he only got away because they took hostages and it was a little more complicated to get take out the other forty-one,” said Sam, “We’ll get him next time. You really don’t have to pump me up here. I’ll be fine.”
“I know,” mumbled Bucky as he leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder, “But I want to. You deserve to be reminded that you can do things. Especially when you look like it’s all too much.”
Sam felt Bucky kiss Sam on the cheek.
“We’ll take a break after this one,” announced Bucky.
Sam snorted.
“A break?” asked Sam, tired, “I don’t know if I’m allowed to take a break. Not a lot of people do what I can do.”
“That’s exactly why you need one,” explained Bucky, “You can’t save everyone. Especially if you run yourself into the ground.”
Sam turned to Bucky and saw all the love in the world. Saw Bucky bring up their interlaced hands and give the back of Sam’s hand a kiss.
It was nice. To have someone who cared like this. If it was just Sam, he’d be pushing himself to the limit. But maybe Bucky had a point. This was the fourth town this month they dropped everything to help. Sam was becoming a little spread thin between helping the family business and saving towns.
“Okay,” said Sam, a little stunned he was agreeing to this, “We’ll take a break after this one. A tiny break.”
“A staycation back home. Just you and me,” said Bucky.
Some time together. Alone at home. Just him and Bucky. Sam hummed in approval.
“I’d like that,” whispered Sam into the desert morning, wanting nothing more but to spend an entire week alone with Bucky after this was over.
*****
Two strangers walked into River Styx, ready for a fight. That was how it went most times when Sam and Bucky found themselves in a new place asking for their help. There was a thickness to the air, as if people could tell what he and Bucky were there for. A change in the tides imminent. None of that, came from the mayor’s residence. No, the batch of Hydra grunts didn’t seem to see Sam and Bucky coming at all.
Sam and Bucky’s trick shooting skills weren’t just for show.
They were for fights.
Sam could see the Hydra men through the window. He could see where half of them were. Sloppy. That was just sloppy. Not that Hydra was that smart to begin with. They just knew how to take advantage of other people.
Bucky patted Sam’s arm before sneaking over to a high vantage point. Sam angled his revolver and began his onslaught.
Five.
Most were Sam ricocheting. Off windowsills, off door knobs, off the belts of already dead grunts. And each shot was perfect.
Sam took out five of the grunts before Hydra knew what hit them. Three made the mistake of rushing outside to get a good shot at Sam. Bucky was swift as he sniped every single one of those three. One at least had the creativity to try to sneak out of a window – that was right in Bucky’s line of sight, Bucky swiftly taking that last grunt out. Leaving only the Leaper, who was…
“Not inside,” whispered Sam before he turned to Bucky, yelling, “He’s not inside – !”
Sam’s instincts kicked in before he realized he was ducking, swiftly avoiding a knived boot to the face, but still getting kicked by Batroc’s heel. Sam stumbled a few steps as he got his bearings. Batroc had enhancements from some long distant ancestor as well. There was a reason he was called the Leaper.
“Sam!” yelled Bucky from far off, but Sam couldn’t think about that, all he could do was dodge.
Sam narrowly escaped the Leaper’s plunge back down to the dirt before he jumped diagonal and began to ping-pong from building to building in a constant state of movement. Sam needed to get the upper hand again, but he kept getting bombarded by panicked instincts telling Sam to dodge, dodge, duck, slide, dodge, barely escaping each blow from the Leaper.
If Sam was younger, he would have panicked. He did the first time he saw Batroc and his ability. But Sam had experience now. He knew how to center himself. Focus.
Sam trusted his instincts.
He pointed.
He shot.
Sam heard pings, the bullet ricocheting off of a million things before he heard a loud cry, a crash, a thump.
“Sam!” said Bucky, startling Sam as he grabbed Sam’s arms, “Sorry, I just – I need to make sure – ”
Sam could see Bucky scanning Sam, checking him for any big cuts.
“I’m fine,” said Sam, a little shaken from his burst of adrenaline, “I’m good. Go check to see if I got him.”
Bucky nodded. He kissed Sam passionately, making Sam forget what they were even there for.
“I’ll be right back,” said Bucky, sealing the promise with another mind melting kiss.
Sam dazedly watched Bucky rush over to the gaping hole in the mayor’s residence to check on the Leaper. Batroc had to be dead… right? Sam’s aim hadn’t failed him yet.
Sam let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. Sam saw the townsfolk trickle out onto the streets. They were tired, anxious folk. That was understandable, given the circumstances.
“Did Joaquín really bring the Captain and his Winter Soldier?” asked a little girl, gazing up at Sam and Bucky in awe.
Sam tipped his hat.
“He sure did. I left Jay over near the claret cup cacti. He’s near my falcon, Redwing. Would you mind going over there and bringing him back in town? If that’s okay with whoever’s in charge of you,” said Sam, bending down to the little girl’s height.
The little girl glanced behind her to her moms. They nodded. She grinned, hugging Sam before she sprinted away.
“But what about the plants,” said an older man in the crowd, “Without them providing those new plants, our town won’t survive.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” said Sam as he placed his hands on the ground, “I’ll fix that.”
Sam searched for them. The roots. Even if Hydra burned all the flora above, there would still be some remnant of them below.
And Sam found them.
What remained.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Sam to work his magic. He focused on those roots and whatever stubs of plant were left under the surface. He encouraged what was down there to grow, grow, grow, grow –
He could hear the gasps from the townsfolk as their old plants that provided their breathable air regrew, good as new. Sam felt a little tired by the act, but it was the good kind of exhaustion. The type that made him know he did a job well done. That he helped these people. And instantly, he could tell the difference. He could feel the oxygen flood the air around them.
“You really did it,” said Joaquín.
Sam turned to see the little girl dragging Joaquín over to Sam and Bucky, Redwing walking right behind the two.
Sam grinned.
“I’m good at what I do,” said Sam simply.
“Stay,” said Joaquín, “Let’s celebrate. We need to thank you for what you’ve done.”
Sam shook his head.
“No. You all should focus on recovery right now. I’ll come back in a year. We’ll celebrate then,” said Sam.
The whole town seemed relieved by that.
“We’ll be ready,” said the little girl, “In a year – we’ll through the biggest festival! You’ll see.”
“We know you will,” said Bucky, wrapping his arm around Sam.
They smiled at each other. Happy they could rid another town of Hydra.
Sam yawned, feeling the lack of sleep and the amount of energy he used to regrow those plants hitting him.
“We need to go,” said Bucky as he helped Sam onto Redwing, “But we will return in a year.”
Sam heard the agreement from the townsfolk. Heard clapping and cheering. But all he could focus on was how comfy Redwing was and how Bucky was keeping Sam firmly on his falcon as Redwing began to fly.
“We saved another town from Hydra,” said Sam, his eyes beginning to droop, “What is that? Town fifty-three?”
“Town fifty-five. And yes. We did,” Bucky whispered softly, “Now, get some shut eye. I’ll fly us the back home to our staycation.”
Sam smiled at that. Sam was okay with that.
“Staycation sounds good to me,” mumbled Sam, feeling safe in Bucky’s care as he drifted to sleep.