Chapter Thirty-Four: House of Cards (Part Two)
Bucky's thumbs flew across his phone screen, each
swipe revealing another devastating headline. His chest constricted as he
scanned article after article, the words blurring together. When he finally
looked up, exhaustion etched in every line of his face, his eyes met Steve's
searching gaze. He held it for a mere heartbeat before returning to the glare
of his screen.
Tony paced back and forth like a caged animal,
fingers raking through his dishevelled hair. And from her seat, Nat watched
with uncharacteristic anxiety. What had been easy conversation minutes ago had
dissolved into a suffocating silence.
Bucky's thumb hovered over his phone screen, a
slight tremor betraying his inner turmoil as he wrestled with his choices. The
cheerful grin he’d worn earlier had crumbled in the face of Sarah's medical
crisis and his own overwhelming remorse. He scrolled through the article one
last time, clinging to the faint hope that he'd overlooked something, that
there might be an update declaring it all to be ‘fake news.’ Weren’t people
always announcing the deaths of well-loved celebrities? Clickbait, he
remembered Sarah call it.
The air grew heavier with each passing second, charged
with preconceived notions. Bucky felt crushed beneath the weight of his
teammates' expectant faces, their silent demands for explanations he couldn't bring
himself to provide. His carefully constructed house of cards, built from
selective truths and strategic silences, was collapsing around him, threatening
to reveal all he'd fought to keep hidden.
Finally, Steve's voice sliced through the silence,
sharp as a knife and twice as dangerous. "How could you have kept this
from us?"
Bucky sighed deeply, knowing he had to give them something.
His words came out in a rush, like water bursting through a dam.
"Honestly, Steve, I... I had no idea," his
voice cracked, his usual confidence crumbling. "We haven't exactly been in
close contact lately."
The admission hung in the air, adding another layer
of complexity to the already tense situation. Steve's jaw clenched, his eyes,
usually warm with brotherhood, narrowed to icy slits.
"What do you mean, 'not in close
contact'?"
Bucky's gaze darted around the room, seeking an
escape that wasn't there. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, and when he
spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, as if saying the words any louder
might shatter the world around them.
"Look, I didn't want to say anything… I was
kinda waiting for her to make the first move…" He swallowed hard, his
Adam's apple bobbing. "Sarah and I broke up a while ago. Shortly before
your wedding."
The words landed like a heavyweight's punch to the
gut.
"Wha– what the hell do you mean, 'you guys
broke up'?" Steve's voice rose as he stood to his feet and surged forward,
closing the distance between them in two quick strides. "I swear, if you
hurt her…"
The threat hung unfinished, but clearly understood.
"See, that right there is why I didn't say
anything. You've got her on such a high pedestal… The only person I can really
talk to is Sam!"
Steve spun around. "Wait, you knew about
this and didn't say anything to me either?"
Sam's eyes widened, raising his hands as if to ward
off the accusation. "Hey, don't drag me into this," he
protested. "I'm sick of all your guys' secrets. Always in the
middle!"
Suddenly, the room went deathly quiet.
Bucky's posture changed, his earlier defensiveness
giving way to cold suspicion. "Secrets, plural?" he asked, his voice
unnervingly calm. His eyes, previously avoiding Steve's gaze, now locked onto
Sam with laser-like intensity.
Realising his slip, Sam swallowed hard. "Come
on, man, that's... that's not what I meant," he backpedalled, but the
words rang hollow in the charged atmosphere.
Bucky took a step towards Sam, the movement
deliberately predatory. "No, no, no. If you're so heavily burdened, why don't
you lighten your load? Right here, right now..."
Nat and Tony sat frozen.
Suddenly, the words exploded from Sam’s lips like
shrapnel. "You know what? Screw it!" he spat. "Steve's marriage
is fake..."
"Fake? How can– What do you–"
But Sam was already barrelling on, words tumbling
out in a frenzied rush. He spun to face the others. "...And Bucky has a
new, secret girlfriend. He's been pining for that cop like a lovesick teenager
ever since the night on the subway."
For the third time in under an hour, a deafening
silence fell over the room. It was as if all the air had been sucked out,
leaving everyone struggling to breathe in the wake of Sam's revelations.
Bucky stumbled backwards, his legs giving out as he
collapsed into a nearby chair. His face was a mask of shock, mouth opening and
closing wordlessly as he tried to process the dual bombshells that had just
detonated in his world.
Steve stood frozen, his earlier anger evaporating in
the face of this new reality. Nat's eyebrows shot up, her gaze darting between
Steve and Bucky, recalculating a thousand interactions in light of this new
information. And Tony, for once, seemed at a loss for words.
Bucky's eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing as
he grappled with Steve's apparent deception. At the same time, his cheeks
flushed with embarrassment, Sam's words about Detective Chandler echoing in his
ears.
After a moment, Tony assumed the role of mediator.
"Okay, let's all just take a breather," he said, his hands raised in
a placating gesture. "No use attacking each other when we should remain
level-headed. Doesn't help Sarah in any way, now does it?"
The mention of Sarah's name seemed to jolt everyone
back to reality.
Nat seized the moment, her voice cool and collected
as she stepped forward. "Hey, how about we grab the Bus and fly to London?
It's technically family responsibility, right? She's your sister-in-law now and..."
Tony's head whipped around, gaping at Nat as she
trailed off. The elephant in the room—Steve's apparent sham of a marriage—addressed
with all the casualness of discussing the weather.
Nat met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm just
saying this is Fury's god-daughter..." she continued, her tone nonchalant.
"What's he gonna say? No? The girl needs support. God knows the Carters
would only be interested in milking this for the premiere."
She turned to Steve, her green eyes piercing as they
locked onto his face. "You know as well as I do that she's going to wish
one of you were there. And since Barnes called it quits... that leaves
you."
The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a
reaction. Bucky's posture stiffened at the mention of his breakup, but he
remained silent, his gaze fixed on his feet.
Tony cleared his throat, breaking the loaded
silence. "So," he said, clapping his hands together with forced
enthusiasm, "who's up for a trip across the pond?"
Sharon opened the door to find two unknown agents, their
stiff postures and dark suits unmistakable. "Agent Carter," the
taller one nodded, both flashing their S.H.I.E.L.D. badges in perfect synchronisation.
"Gentlemen," Sharon acknowledged, her
voice detached yet professional. "To what do I owe this visit?"
The agents exchanged a glance before the shorter one
stepped forward. "Agent, we have some bad news concerning your
sister..."
At the mention of Sarah, Sharon's demeanour changed.
The tension in her shoulders visibly eased, and she let out a small,
exasperated sigh. A wry smile played at the corners of her mouth as she shook
her head.
"Look, I appreciate you guys coming over, but whatever
trouble my sister's in…”
The agents blinked, clearly thrown by her reaction.
Sharon leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Let me guess,
she's in the hospital again? Probably called the paparazzi herself."
"Agent, I don't think you understand the
severity of the situation. She’s suffered cluster seizures.”
“…and subsequently rushed to hospital early hours of
this morning."
Sharon waved a hand dismissively. "Trust me, I
understand perfectly. Sarah's always had a flair for the dramatic. Ever since
we were kids, she's loved being the centre of attention."
A flash of something—perhaps guilt, perhaps
annoyance—crossed Sharon's face before she schooled her features back into a
mask of mild amusement. "So, what's the story this time? Exhaustion?
Dehydration from too much partying?"
The taller agent shifted uncomfortably. "Agent
Carter, perhaps we should step inside to discuss this further."
Sharon's eyebrow arched. For a moment, doubt crept
into her expression, but she quickly shook it off. "Again, I appreciate the
agency’s concern, but I’m more than familiar with my sister's antics."
The agents exchanged another look, their grave
expressions at odds with Sharon's dismissive attitude. Steve had gathered a
couple of S.T.R.I.K.E. agents and coordinated with British intelligence
services for additional support and to navigate local jurisdictions, given
Sarah’s celebrity status. Why wasn’t her own flesh and blood as hands-on?
As the sun dipped below the skyline, two very
different scenes unfolded across the metropolitan area of upstate New York…
In the Rogers-Carter picture-perfect home, Sharon
paced the living room, phone pressed to her ear. "This is just Sarah being
Sarah," she insisted, exasperation colouring her voice. "Remember the
'appendicitis' incident last year? Pure theatrics. So no, I won't be flying out
tonight. It's unnecessary, and frankly, it'll only encourage her behaviour.
I'll call the hospital in the morning, get the real story."
She paused by the mantle, absentmindedly
straightening a photo of her and Sarah at her Medal of Honour ceremony, their
smiles brittle and forced. "And I appreciate S.H.I.E.L.D.'s concern, I do,
but there's no need to make this an international incident. My sister thrives
on attention… always has."
Across town, S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ bustled with activity.
Steve strode through the corridors, barking out his orders, not giving a damn
about the feud that existed between the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and the Avengers.
"I want the Bus prepped and ready in fifteen. And someone get me an update
on the security situation at the hospital."
Junior agents scurried around him, a flurry of
movement. Screens flickered with satellite imagery of London, red dots marking
key locations. The air thrummed with urgency, as if they were preparing for a
major operation rather than a hospital visit.
Steve paused at the armoury door, his hand hovering
over the keypad.
A gentle touch on his bicep broke through his
tactical planning. Natasha stood beside him, her expression one of
understanding. "Maybe forego the weaponry, huh?" she said gently, a
hint of amusement in her eyes. "This isn't a mission; you're just visiting
a friend in hospital."
Steve's shoulders sagged slightly, the tension not
quite leaving but shifting. He nodded, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.
"Force of habit, I guess."
Around them, the bustle continued. Fury approached,
tablet in hand. "We've liaised with SIS. They're aware of the situation
and are providing discreet support on the ground."
“SIS? A touch extreme, isn’t it? How’d you swing
that?”
“What’s the point in having contacts if you don’t occasionally
use ‘em for famous god-daughters? My baby’s sick; I want her safe.”
“Hm. Touché.”
Fury lingered, watching Steve with an expression
that softened his stern demeanour. Despite everything S.H.I.E.L.D. and the
Council had done to Steve, despite their fractured relationship, Steve's
immediate response to Sarah's condition had confirmed what Fury had always
known. Some bonds ran deeper than politics or protocols.
There'd been no hesitation, no careful weighing of
international restrictions or legal ramifications. Just Steve, ready to cross
an ocean at a moment's notice for the god-daughter Fury loved like his own. It
shouldn't have surprised him. Steve had never been one to let bureaucracy stand
in the way of doing what he believed was right, and Sarah had been family long
before any NDAs and legal contracts had complicated their lives.
As a show of gratitude, Fury would ensure the right
people looked the other way. It was the least he could do. After all, Steve had
taught him something about choosing people over politics, about the kinds of
loyalty that couldn't be legislated or controlled.
Steve pulled his hoodie lower, obscuring his face as
he strode down the corridor. Around him, S.T.R.I.K.E. team members melted into
the background… a nurse checking charts, an orderly mopping the floor, a
visitor slumped in a waiting room chair.
Steve slowed as he approached Sarah's room, his hand
hovering over the door handle. Through the small window, he caught a glimpse of
her—pale against the slate blue hospital sheets, an IV snaking from her arm.
His breath caught, memories washing over him.
"I'm always going to love you. You know
that, right?" The words he'd spoken on his wedding day echoed in his
mind, a bittersweet reminder of promises made.
Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed the door open,
slipping inside. Sarah's head turned toward the sound, her eyes widening as
they landed on Steve. A myriad of emotions played across her face—surprise, relief,
immeasurable joy.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
Steve leaned forward in his chair, his elbows
resting on his knees, as he gazed down at her.
"Of course I'm here," he said instantly,
his voice low and intense. "I came as soon as I heard. I'd have hijacked
the Bus if Nick didn't give me the go-ahead."
Sarah's lips quirked in a weak smile, a ghost of her
usual spark. She hesitated, her fingers twisting the edge of her blanket.
"Can I tell you something... private?"
Steve nodded, his expression open and attentive.
"Yeah, of course."
Sarah took a deep breath. "This isn't the first
time this has happened. Back when I first left... it got real bad, real
fast."
Steve's jaw clenched, a flicker of pain crossing his
face as the warmth of Sarah’s skin seeped into his palm. His mind drifted back
to those first days after Sarah had vanished from New York... He could almost
smell the delicate sweet fragrance of the cherry blossoms at the reception hall,
hear the concierge inform him of Sarah’s departure, and feel the rough texture
of the brick wall he'd punched in frustration.
The empty hotel room… The unanswered calls…
His free hand clenched involuntarily as he
remembered the sleepless nights spent staring at his phone, willing it to ring.
The way his stomach had lurched every time he'd seen a blonde head in a crowd,
hope rising and falling in cruel cycles.
Sarah's words echoed in his mind. The image of her,
alone and seizing in unfamiliar surroundings, flashed before his eyes. His
breath caught in his throat. Who had been there to hold her hand? To call for
help? To whisper that everything would be okay?
Steve's gaze drifted to the IV line snaking from
Sarah's arm, tracing its path to the softly whirring machine nearby. How many
times had she been hooked up to machines like this without him knowing? Without
anyone telling him?
A parade of faces flickered through his mind—Sharon,
Fury, Lily, Althea… They had to have known. And yet, they kept this from him?
The thought stoked the fiery rage in his chest.
Steve's thumb traced small circles on the back of
Sarah's hand, a gentle, unconscious movement. His eyes, usually clear and
focused, were distant, lost in the maze of what-ifs and whys that had plagued
him for years.
The silence stretched between them for a moment
before Steve spoke.
"Sarah, I may not know why you left the way you
did... But even now... No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us,
you'll always come first. I promise I'll always be here for you. Anytime,
anywhere. If you need me, I'll drop everything."
A mix of emotions played across Sarah’s face before settling
on woeful acceptance. She shook her head slightly, angling her face away from
Steve. "Please don't make promises you can't keep. I've just about made
peace with you and my sister."
Outside in the corridor, Natasha's eyes narrowed as
she overheard Steve's words. Her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tight as she
spun on her heel and stormed away from the door.
Steve, hearing Nat's quick footsteps retreating down
the corridor, glanced over his shoulder. He squeezed Sarah's hand once more
before standing. "I'll be right back," he murmured, stepping out into
the hallway.
"Natasha!" he called, his voice sharp.
"What the hell is your problem?"
Nat whirled to face him, her green eyes flashing.
"You're building castles in the sky for that poor girl," she hissed.
"You said she needed my support.”
Before Natasha could respond, Rumlow appeared at the
end of the corridor. "Yo, Cap, we gotta go.”
Steve hesitated, glancing back towards Sarah's room.
"Give me a second.”
"Nah, we gotta head back right now. New intel
just came in. Playtime’s over."
Steve's shoulders sagged, silently cursing his responsibilities.
"Yeah, sure."
As he turned back to face Natasha, the
disappointment in her eyes cut deep, clashing with the earnest concern he felt
for Sarah. "Case in point. You can’t be making promises like this. I
thought you were better than this, Rogers."
Steve stood frozen in the sterile hospital corridor.
His eyes darted back to Sarah's room, where she lay vulnerable and alone. Every
fibre of his being screamed to stay, to keep his promise and be there until he
knew she was truly okay. But the weight of his shield, even while absent, bore
down on his shoulders.
With a deep breath, Steve strode back to Sarah's
room, pushing the door open gently.
Sarah looked up, her eyes questioning. He moved to
her bedside, taking her hand once more. "I have to go," he said
softly, regret colouring his voice. "But I promise I'll be back before
you're discharged. You won't leave this hospital alone."
Sarah nodded, a small, understanding smile on her
lips. "Duty calls, huh? Go save the world, Cap."
Steve squeezed her hand, his blue eyes intense.
"I meant what I said earlier. If you need me, I’ll come running."
As he turned to leave, Sarah's voice stopped him at
the door. "Steve? Thank you for coming."
He looked back, a wistful smile on his face.
"Always."
Thank you so much for reading! 🙏 Your support means the world to me, so if you enjoyed this chapter, please show some love by liking the video and leaving a comment with your thoughts… It really helps the story reach more people! 🎥💖
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