"What kind of message does it give if we give into terroristic threats?”
“That you understand the threat level,” Lemar offered and received a scathing look from the politician for daring to voice what they all knew was the answer.
“You don’t have to like it, but he’s right, sir. The Flag Smashers have proven to be resourceful and have likely been planning this for a while now.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we have Captain America handling our security.”
Steady Part Two (a Falcon and the Winter Soldier fic)
Read on AO3
Story Summary:
John is badly injured in Latvia when Lemar doesn’t make it in time.
Chapter Summary:
John remembers pieces of what happened with the Flag Smashers while Olivia yells at a set of visitors loud enough to disrupt the whole hospital.
-----
It had only been a couple of hours after he’d finally made a decision to take the serum that a lead on the Flag Smashers had come through. Only a couple of hours after he’d been curled up on the bathroom floor of a hotel room in Latvia, screaming into a towel to dampen the sound. John had always thought he had a better than average pain tolerance, but it had felt like someone had tried to set him on fire from the inside out. Every vein, every muscle, every inch of him burning.
And then it had stopped, leaving him panting and curled into himself until the phone call had come through. They had a lead on the Flag Smashers. It was time to get to work.
What came next had been a furious blur of action, not unlike many of their operations. But the capture operation quickly turned into a hostage rescue and John didn’t have time to linger on the new strength that showed itself in the way a throw he’d performed dozens of times now buried the shield in the wall or that he could lift a Flag Smasher and throw him down the stairs with ease. Or the fact that Sam Wilson somehow just so happened to stumble into the fight in time to see him do it. John didn’t have time for any of it. That should have come after Lemar was safely out of their hands, and it would have if the Flag Smasher hadn’t caught him by surprise, wrenched his arms behind him, and opened him wide to Morgenthau attack. That’s why there’d been so many knives.
He didn’t remember much else. Just snippets… the sudden pressure against his chest like a man twice his size had balled his fists up and slammed them down, Lemar yelling his name somewhere in the distance, and a coppery taste on his tongue that was never a good sign. He didn’t remember falling and he didn’t know what happened after. Yelling. There’d been yelling. He wasn’t sure who.
And Lemar had demanded that he open his eyes.
It wasn’t the ceiling of the old building in Latvia or even the floor, but instead the bright white fluorescent that - when combined with the obnoxiously sanitized smell - could only belong in a hospital. John blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, and turned his head to look sluggishly around the room. There was a chair on either side of the bed - one with what looked like an old cup of coffee next to it and the other scooted closer to his bed with a blanket draped over the back - and Captain America’s shield in its protective casing leaned up against the far wall. That’s right. He’d survived the knife to the chest. Looked like the cat was out of the bag when it came to the serum earlier than he had anticipated.
John grimaced as he reached a hand up, fingers gently touching the hospital gown over where he could feel the deep wound still healing. He was moving to tug it back to see if he could get a better look when the sound of shouting - more importantly, Olivia shouting - stole his attention. He shoved himself up on his elbows before he’d really thought it through, but his wife’s irate voice from outside the closed hospital door steeled his determination. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as he quickly and efficiently unhooked himself from the monitors, IV, and tugged the tube that had been pushing oxygen into his nose away so that he could swing his bare feet over the side of the bed.
The floor shifted underneath him, or at least that’s what it felt like. John tried to broaden his stance to find more stability, but stumbled back against the bed instead, the jolt to his still-healing body ripping the breath from his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to will himself under control.
“Thirty-six hours,” Lemar’s oddly irritated voice cut through the pain and what must have been the alarms he’d set off when he disconnected all of the monitors. John felt his best friend’s hands on his shoulders to steady him and he managed to pry his eyes open. Oh. He really was upset. That was rare. “You couldn’t even give us forty-eight before you went and did something insane. Dumbest smart man I know,” he groused and it felt like he was trying to guide John back into the hospital bed.
“Liv,” the injured man managed and the frustration instantly drained from Lemar’s face.
“She’s fine. Trying to get arrested by the MPs, but she’s okay.”
Then, suddenly, she was at his side and John breathed a sigh of relief as he caught a whiff of her cinnamon and some-number-of-spices shampoo she used. Her palm pressed against his face and he reached up for her hand, holding on and turning to press a kiss into it. “What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she answered, her voice strained and he looked past her to the door.
Sam Wilson hesitated there, looking very much like he wasn’t sure if she’d throw something at his head if he took a step into the room. She probably would, but why, John wasn’t sure. Probably something he should know about.
“I’ll be damned,” Bucky said from behind him, surprise and anger fighting to dominate his expression. “You did take it.”
“If you’re looking for an apology for being alive, you’re not getting one,” John growled at him, hating how raw his throat still felt. He wondered just how the serum worked when it came to healing. Maybe it was taking care of the more life-threatening situations first, leaving the scratchiness from the tube shoved down his throat for last. That didn’t make sense. Maybe it was something else.
A nurse attempted to push past Sam and Bucky as John was trying to ease back into the bed with Lemar’s help. He waved her off. “Give us a minute?”
“Sir --”
John shot Lemar a look and thought for a second he was going to get an argument from him, but his friend set his jaw, swallowed whatever he wanted to say down, and moved towards the nurse, kicking on all the charm required as he scooted her out of the room. Olivia came to stand where he’d been as John carefully eased his legs back onto the bed. Damn. That hurt.
Lemar closed the door and turned glare on the two heroes they’d been trying to get to work with them. John loosed a breath. “Okay. Clearly I missed something while --”
“Bleeding out on the floor?” Lemar offered, but the words were clearly directed at Sam who gave a small frown at them.
The sigh was more pronounced this time. “Listen, I don’t have the energy to play guessing games right now. Someone fill me in on what I missed when I was unconscious.”
“She should probably go,” Bucky said, nodding towards Olivia.
“Like hell,” she snapped, taking a step closer to John’s bedside. Great. Even his civilian wife seemed to know more about what had happened on his own mission than he did. Fantastic.
“Let’s just take it easy here,” Sam offered, looking between both Bucky and Lemar like he thought the two were going to get into a brawl right there in the middle of the medical facilities on Ramstein Air Base. That’s when John started really looking. He saw the cut along Sam’s cheekbone like someone had taken a swing at him and the bandage peeking out from under Lemar’s uniform cuff. Both could have been injuries dealt by the Flag Smashers during the scuffle, but he had the strangest feeling that there was another explanation between the three of them after he’d gone down. It was like a memory that had been washed away, only the last scattered droplets of it remaining.
“John? You good, man?”
Blue eyes blinked hard, the room coming back into focus to find Lemar staring at him and Olivia reaching out for his hand. He drew in a painful breath. “Someone needs to start talking,” he said roughly and turned a sharp look on Bucky. “Let’s start with you.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Walker.”
“Just makes me think you’re the one that started whatever shit went down.”
Bucky nodded towards Lemar. “Ask your buddy there what he did.”
“Lemar’s not exactly known for starting the fight.” He looked at Sam. “You find out the hard way he can finish them?”
“I didn’t touch Hoskins,” Sam growled and John finally turned back to the only person that had been there that he trusted to tell him the truth.
Lemar, the man that had always been willing to try another way right up until the punches started flying, looked ready to get back into it. “If you hadn’t gotten in my way, this would have been done.”
Sam bristled at that. “She was unarmed at that point."
“Bullshit,” Lemar growled, squaring his shoulders. “She’s a super soldier, and she didn’t have her knife because she’d just put it into John’s chest. He’d be dead if he hadn’t taken that stuff.”
“Which is something we need to talk about,” Sam pressed.
“Stop. Stop,” John cut in, wincing as he repositioned himself on the bed and wishing he’d found a conscious moment to put on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt at minimum. It was bad enough that he couldn’t stay on his feet for more than two seconds, but to be sitting there in his boxers and a hospital gown was humiliating.
Surprisingly, they gave him a moment to catch his breath. When he had it again he looked over at his best friend. “Talk to me.”
The rage that looked so foreign on him finally eased a little at the words. “You were down. I grabbed your gun and was about to take Morgenthau out, but Sam over there wanted to play referee.”
John nodded at his bandaged wrist. “How’d that happen?”
“I took a swing at Sam and Bucky sent me skidding across the floor,” Lemar said tightly, his lips twitching downward. “She got away, they pursued, and medical showed up a few minutes later.” There was a haunted look in his dark eyes as they remained unfocused, his mind likely back where they’d been in that moment.
John ran a hand over his face and finally fell back against the pillows stacked behind him, his energy beyond spent. This was not how he’d anticipated his first official op as Captain America panning out. “So why are you here? Because if you tell me you talked her down, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.”
“No,” Sam answered softly. “She went to ground.”
“Shocking.” He was being an asshole about it. Part of him knew that no matter the different tactics, they had the same end goal. Problem was that Sam’s tactics and Bucky’s willingness to go along with them had paved the way for her escape. She and her people were in the wind and there was no telling if they’d find her again through good intelligence or another explosion that cost innocent civilians their lives.
John felt a shudder run up his spine and he sucked in a painful breath. “I really wanted to work together.”
“No one’s gonna fault you for it,” Sam said. “We’ll finish this.”
“No you won’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have a headache, per se, but it felt like he should have a headache. Like the stress should have locked everything up so tight that his head had no other choice but to ache.
“We’re free agents,” Bucky said. “Shield or no shield, you don’t have the authority to take us off this.”
“You’re right.” John let his eyes slip back open and met the former Howling Commando’s skeptical gaze. “But how’ve you guys been getting around? My guess is the same way that you got into the base: Sam’s Air Force connections.”
He could see the realization dawn on his face. “This is bullshit and you know it,” Sam growled and John knew this needed to get wrapped up sooner rather than later. He was exhausted, and he needed to rest so that he would be ready to hit the ground running as soon as they caught wind of where the Flag Smashers had gone to next. The only thing working in their favour right then was that they likely thought he was dead. That would buy them a couple of days at least.
“I’ll put you on a plane and send you home,” he promised. “What you do from there is up to you as long as you stay out of our way.”
There was a long moment that John thought they were going to keep pushing back, but Sam - to his credit - turned towards the door. Bucky didn’t move to immediately follow, but instead tilted his head as he studied John with that strange, unblinking stare of his. “Watch yourself, Walker. That serum you took doesn’t have a great track record.”
“So I hear.”
The door closed behind them and John waited a beat before finally relaxing against the pillows, his head tipping back and he winced at the pull on the wound in his chest. Olivia gave his hand a squeeze and he tried for a reassuring smile that he was pretty sure was a grimace at best.
“If you have to go back in, can’t you have them removed entirely?” she asked carefully.
“They’re not under us,” Lemar answered for him, dragging his chair so that it was in John’s line of vision without making him strain.
“Yeah, but they got in the way of you doing your job. They protected the woman who…”
John pulled her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “They’re wrong and kind of assholes, but they’re heroes too. Sam helped take down Hydra and they both fought Thanos. They don’t deserve to have their reputations dragged through the mud. It’ll be fine.”
She glanced over to Lemar who offered a small shrug. “We’ve got some time and they won’t have the kind of resources we do. It should be okay.”
“Are you saying that because he’s saying that or because it’s true?” Olivia asked pointedly and John shot her an incredulous look.
“Aren’t you the one always telling me what a bad liar I am?”
“Unless you convince yourself of it. The Falcon and Steve Roger’s best friend Bucky Barnes.” His wife scrunched her nose a little at their names. “You forget I’ve known you since we were twelve. I saw the Howling Commando comics you two dorks used to read.”
John’s lips twitched up as he glanced at Lemar who wore a similar expression.
Olivia loosed a soft breath, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “Okay. I get it. This is what you boys do. All I’m asking is that you —“ she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss that felt like an unwarranted tease —- “give yourself whatever time you need to heal up. And you —“ she looked over at Lemar who gave her a cheeky grin in return — “have his back in every way you always have.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lemar answered with a mock salute.
Olivia turned back towards him and he reached up, motioning for her to lean in closer and she did, a skeptical look etched into her pretty features. When she was close enough he sat up just enough to pull her in, stealing the kiss he would have preferred a moment before. She laughed against him, leaning down so that he could sink back against the pillows, and didn’t break away until Lemar gave a snort of a laugh. “You two need a minute?”
“You mind grabbing that nurse to re-hook all of his machines before I throw them out the window?”
“Sure,” he chuckled.
Olivia turned back from where she was half-seated on the hospital bed and John felt himself relax just a little more as she leaned forward again to rest her forehead against his. “I know you.”
“Really, ‘cause —“
“Shut up. This is serious. I know you. I know how much your work means to you - especially this work - but at the end of the day your job is to come home to me. Got it?”
John let his eyes slip closed, reaching his hand up to tangle a long finger in her hair before the nurse could come in to tether him back down again. His thumb brushed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “Got it,” he promised.
“Good.” She pressed another kiss to his lips that ended far too soon with a nurse who was very upset that she’d been kicked out earlier. John let her do her job without a fight, all the wires and IVs back where they were supposed to be. He tried to turn down the oxygen, but she insisted, and finally she left the three of them alone.
Finally. He was exhausted.
John was already drifting as he heard Lemar repositioning his chair and Olivia carefully climbed into the hospital bed with him, carefully wrapping an arm over his midsection and pressing her cheek into his shoulder. There was plenty of work to be done, but if he knew Lemar, he’d already gotten the ball rolling on things like securing Sam and Bucky a ride home if they would take it. How all that shook out would be a problem for tomorrow. Right then, despite the accelerated healing, he wasn’t anywhere near fighting ready. If he wanted to be ready to finish this - to protect the people that relied on him - he had to make good on his promise to the woman he loved. And sleep always came so much easier with her by his side.
----
Notes:
When I originally wrote this to fill a perfect Whumptover prompt, it was just supposed to be a oneshot, but then my brain does what it does and kept going to figure out how Sam and Bucky would have reacted to Karli stabbing (and nearly killing) John. Now that it's written, though, I feel like I kind of owe it to Sam and Bucky to let them have the little mini redemption arc that John got at the end of the show in canon. I just don't know how that will play out. I do know that I'd love to fill in the last remaining gaps in the stabbing/immediate aftermath from Lemar's POV and that would happen in a third installment, sooooooo...
If I can pin down a good path forward for Bucky and Sam, there'll be a third part. I just really need someone to talk me out of the additional plot bunnies nipping at my ankles that continue on past this story since it opens up all sorts of possibilities with John continuing as Cap and the Custer's Grove Trio all alive and well and as strong as ever. One particular plot bunny has to do with John and Lemar stumbling into having to investigate Val and getting tangled up with the Thunderbolts crew. Seriously. Someone talk me out of this :')
“Thirty-six hours,” Lemar’s oddly irritated voice cut through the pain and what must have been the alarms he’d set off when he disconnected all of the monitors. John felt his best friend’s hands on his shoulders to steady him and he managed to pry his eyes open. Oh. He really was upset. That was rare. “You couldn’t even give us forty-eight before you went and did something insane. Dumbest smart man I know,” he groused and it felt like he was trying to guide John back into the hospital bed.
“Liv,” the injured man managed and the frustration instantly drained from Lemar’s face.
“She’s fine. Trying to get arrested by the MPs, but she’s okay.”
Then, suddenly, she was at his side and John breathed a sigh of relief as he caught a whiff of her cinnamon and some-number-of-spices shampoo she used. Her palm pressed against his face and he reached up for it, holding on and turning to press a kiss to it. “What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she answered, her voice strained and he looked past her to the door.
John is badly injured in Latvia when Lemar doesn’t make it in time.
Chapter Summary:
Everything comes to a head with Karli and her Flag Smashers.
----
He’d beaten John upstairs, which meant he’d found trouble along the way. The fact that any attempt to reach him via comms only returned with static confirmed that, leaving Lemar to help coordinate the evacuation of very nervous politicians and buy them time when Nico Kovaczsik made his appearance. They fought, John showed, and so did another Flag Smasher. That’s about the time that the hard hits Lemar had taken really started to catch up with him.
It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t been set when he’d taken the shots and had twinged his already injured knee, sending him off balance. Kovaczsik had slammed into him hard enough to throw him back, but the thick glass hadn’t stopped him.
That’s when everything seemed to slow down. Somewhere in his mind, he knew it hadn’t, but he felt the impact, the glass ripping at his Kevlar suit and exposed skin. And he was falling. This was it. This was how it ended.
The sound of thrusters broke through the rushing wind and he jolted to a stop midair, something having snagged the back of his bulletproof vest he wore. Pain laced through him as his body tried to catch up with the sudden pause and he craned his head back to see Sam Wilson. “Looked like you needed a hand.”
Lemar tried to pull in a breath, his mind raging between the flurry of emotions the last twenty seconds had thrust upon him. He’d been thrown out of a thirty-story window and he wasn’t dead. Because of Sam Wilson. Damn.
“You really gonna fight me on helping?” Sam called out over the flight noise.
“Not from this position,” Lemar yelled back.
Overhead, a helicopter sped off in the wrong direction and Sam frowned. “I gotta get you down. Sounds like they’ve taken the chopper.”
That was going to take too long with hostages. “I can fly it if your suit can get us both up there.”
The Falcon snorted, his lips curling up at the side in a smirk. “If my suit can get us up there,” it sounded like he chuckled. “Hold on.”
To what was the question since Lemar was relying entirely on Sam’s grip on his vest not to continue the downward fall Kovaczsik had sent him on. The man had just saved his life. Maybe that earned some trust back.
The helicopter pilot must have seen them because he banked hard to the right like he was trying to use the blades as weapons. To his credit, Sam didn’t feel like he was struggling to hold onto Lemar’s dead weight, but the position was going to put them both in danger sooner rather than later.
“Can you get me to the landing skids?” Lemar called out.
“Yeah, if you’ll be ready when I take the pilot out.”
“That’s the plan.”
Sam barked a laugh and swung around, cutting under so that Lemar could get a grip on the landing skids beneath the helicopter. They had to pull back at the last second, the aircraft slamming down hard, but they got in closer with the second attempt. Lemar got a grip and swung his legs up to hold on. He glanced over to see Sam barrel rolling away and he got ready for whatever way the other man chose to oust the pilot that had kidnapped a handful of GRC politicians.
There was a loud sound and suddenly the pilot was being flung out of the open door of the helicopter, Sam following after him. Lemar didn’t have time to think on the logistics as the aircraft jolted without someone at the stick. He shifted his grip to the door, leveraging his foot against the skid, and hauled himself up with his battered ribs in full protest. That was going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline crash came. That was a problem for later, though, because if he didn’t get the helicopter under control, there wasn’t going to be a later.
He heard the shouting behind him of the terrified former captives as he focused on leveling them out. As they did, he loosed a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Everybody good?” he called out behind him as he reached for the headset the man had lost on his way out. “This is Sergeant Majors Hoskins,” he radioed out. “We’ve regained control of the hijacked helicopter and I have four hostages. Where’s a secure location to drop them?”
The response came through and Lemar signaled to Sam who had their terrorist by the ankle. Time to drop the civilians off and find the rest of them.
—-
They were closing the doors to two large, armored vans when John made it down to the garage, three Flag Smashers on motorcycles to act as protection. One led them out as John picked up pace, the vans starting towards the exit. The gates were still open. If he didn’t get to them fast, he was going to lose them.
John pushed forward, blocking gunfire from one of the Flag Smashers so that the bullet ricocheted off his shield before taking a running leap that leveraged him a little higher than he’d anticipated and he landed on top of the second van as it hit the ramp up to the exit. He fell back, flattening himself just in time to keep from getting his head taken off by the exit.
There was a sharp lurch to the left as they hit the street above ground, slamming John so hard that he skidded to the side. Bullets pinged at his legs as he rolled fully back up onto the van’s roof, positioning himself to return fire before he realized he’d tossed his weapon to Lemar.
The painful reminder of what had happened cut through his focus on the job at hand and John loosed a frustrated growl as he brought himself to a crouch and then fully to balance on the speeding van. It gave him a better view, both of the van ahead of him and the motorcycle coming back up next to him. Where was the other one?
Shots rang out again, but instead of striking near him, he saw the Flag Smasher on the motorcycle go down. The missing one roared up behind it, but instead of a terrorist he found himself looking at Bucky Barnes.
The van beneath him jerked hard to the right, trying to get away from the incoming former Winter Soldier, and as they steadied back out and it became clear that they weren’t going to shake him, John spotted the muzzle of a gun protruding out of the window. He growled a low curse. This needed to end now.
A shot went off and Bucky swerved to miss it while John took a quick intake of the surroundings. They were in a rare open space in Manhattan, leaving relatively little for the van to careen into at full speed if this went poorly.
John pulled himself to his feet, adjusting his stance on instinct as he grabbed for the shield he’d latched onto the holster on his back. He leveraged himself up into the air, giving the throw the downward momentum it would need to break through the armament. Anything less than a super soldier wielding a vibranium shield likely wouldn’t have been able to break through, but the two combined worked in his favour. The shield slammed into the hood of the van, denting it deeply right above the engine and sending smoke pouring out from the edges as the vehicle sputtered to a stop, John finding his footing towards the back of the van's roof.
Bucky sped past and, for just a moment, John thought he was just going to keep going. Instead, he spun hard in the middle of the street, tires squealing, and barreled back at the now immobile van. He took one shot at the bullet proof glass, then another, sending the Flag Smashers scurrying out of both sides as the glass started to splinter with the third direct shot.
John was on the move as soon as he heard the doors unlock. He landed a hard kick on the driver on his way down, sending him slamming into the ground and knocking him out cold. There was a howl of pain from the other side of the van as Bucky put a bullet through her leg. He was still playing gentle with them.
“You gonna fight us on this?” Bucky called out over the sound of the bike’s engine and John pulled his shield from the van’s hood.
“Not if you’re here to help and not to get in the way,” the blond answered honestly.
The other man frowned a little, though that may have just been the natural state of his face. “Sam’s got eyes on the other van and your ride’s incoming.”
How he’d orchestrated that was a question for another time. “If he tries to talk her down he’s going to get himself killed.”
“I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Bucky nodded upward. “There’s your ride.”
A helicopter was descending carefully as sirens sounded from several streets away, backup incoming. Bucky was on his way to the next fight as John circled around back, getting his first good look at the lock they’d latched onto the backdoor. Inside, the politicians shouted nervous questions.
“I’ll have you out in just a minute,” he called back. He didn’t think he could punch his way through that kind of lock, but if they put it on, they had to have a way to take it off. He motioned at the small windows that he’d be right back as he went to search the downed driver.
NYPD cars and a van similar to the one they’d just stopped rolled up as the helicopter touched down and John found the key he was looking for. Over the sound of the sirens and the rotor blades, he thought he heard a familiar voice. It had him popping back to his feet even if he knew it was impossible. No one could have survived that fall. He didn’t think he could have survived that fall. But as John rounded the stolen van, he saw a face he was sure he’d only see again when he had to identify him in the morgue.
“Captain Walker!” Senator Bailey’s voice cut through the shock as Lemar coordinated with the NYPD and John realized he’d been staring. He turned, key in hand, and the lock retracted on itself, allowing him to open the door.
John didn’t wait for Bailey to make his way out and likely start in on him for the events John had warned him were not just possible, but probable. Instead, he made a beeline for Lemar, motioning to a couple of officers with ESU badges as the only sign he could take that they’d been sent directly from a trusted source. “Let’s get the hostages out of the line of fire.” He received a crisp yessir from the two officers before turning to Lemar. “You look awful good for a man dropped thirty stories.”
Lemar snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Hate to admit it, but Sam Wilson is the only reason I didn’t hit the street.”
“Bucky just helped with that can of hostages.”
“And we’ve got another one,” Lemar acknowledged as he pulled out his phone. “Got the coordinates. You ready to put this one to rest?”
“Beyond ready.”
They moved in sync with each other, years of practice leaving it to second nature. Into the helicopter, headsets on, and they were in the air.
“John?” his name rang over the aviation intercom and he startled out of the daze he hadn’t even realized he was in. Lemar’s gaze was darting between the buildings around them and him. “You good?”
The lie was rising in his throat when a shudder ran through him, choking it back down. He could see Lemar’s expression grow a little tighter and he forced his nerves under control with a deep breath before looking at him. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Lemar snorted a laugh, relief replacing concern.
“I’m serious. I can’t do this without you.”
Whatever banter his best friend was ready to hand out seemed to die before it made its way off his lips. Instead he gave John a small smile. “Right back atcha, man.”
They broke the skyline and were moving, the city below them and John giving directions from the tracking details that they’d been provided with.
“Looks like they were prepping at one spot,” Lemar said. “Might actually get the drop on them.”
“That’s the plan,” John answered. “Get me in close enough and I can jump.”
His best friend shot him a skeptical look, but started down anyway. John peeled off the headset, did a quick check of his gear, and positioned himself, watching the gauge that was reading out their altitude from ground level.
“Well look at that. Sam says he’s waiting for our lead.”
“I’ll take it,” John answered and swung himself out of the side door. He dropped, snapping his shield to his gauntlet as his boots hit the pavement and he rolled, barely avoiding a kick swiping out at him.
Everything happened at once as if they’d actually been coordinating. Bucky’s stolen motorcycle roared as he revved it towards the barriers they’d put into place, slamming on the brakes last second to propel himself over and into a Flag Smasher who had a gun trained on him. The shot didn’t go off as the former Winter Soldier body slammed her to the ground and John was fairly sure he heard him tell her to stay down as he got up. Sam came flying in, slamming boots first into one of the Flag Smashers before swinging around with his wings still extended, catching another. The man went down and didn’t get back up.
“They’re not all super soldiers,” John called over the mayhem, scanning the chaos for their ginger ringleader.
“How’re we supposed to tell the difference?” Bucky shouted back as he blocked a hit with his vibranium arm.
They couldn’t. That was the hard truth that John hoped Sam could accept. They couldn’t know which was enhanced, so they had to fight them like they were. That was the position they’d been put in.
Bullets pinged off the helicopter and John spun to see Lemar landing in the center of the three that had been trying to get a lucky shot in, sending them scattering. John caught the two closest to him with a double ricochet of his shield and Lemar took the third out with a shot.
“Light it up,” a voice cut through the fight and John whipped around to see the source further away than he’d been expecting. Karli Morgenthau’s small stature and red curls stood out amongst the masked terrorists and John started towards her. It was time to finish this.
John dodged one of her protectors and picked up the pace as he saw them dumping lighter fluid on a van full of screaming hostages. Morgenthau spotted him and she squared up. “You,” she spit out, barely dodging as John sent the shield spinning at her. Bucky flew past, aimed at the burning van with Sam and his drone overhead, while John pivoted out of the way of Morgenthau’s kick and spun to catch the shield, swinging it around to slam it into her without pulling the punch.
Morgenthau went flying a few feet through the air before landing hard on the unforgiving pavement, rolling and stumbling to her feet. She’d lost her mask and stood staring at him. “So that’s how you’re alive.”
“You’ve got one more chance to give this up.”
“You think you’re doing something so noble. Like carrying that shield makes you the good guy, is that it?”
“My choices make me who I am. So do yours. You think you’re the first person on the planet to get a shit deal?”
She let loose a frustrated scream as she rushed him, her kick landing hard against the shield and a punch around. The next blow came at his ankles and it landed hard enough to send him off balance. He caught himself and kicked out, the sole of his boot catching her in the ribs and she skidded backwards, looking like she would rush him again.
A crack echoed through the New York street, the sound bouncing off the buildings. It was followed almost instantly by a second and several Flag Smashers dove for cover. The shot hadn’t come from the ground.
John’s gaze snapped back to Morgenthau from where he’d instinctively looked for the unexpected sniper and saw her standing still as if she weren’t in a full blown fist fight with Captain America. Instead she loosed a shaky breath, her hand coming up to her chest and she stared at the blood on her fingers. Then, gravity claimed her and she crumbled to the ground.
Sirens sounded all around and the fight had come to a stop with their leader downed in the middle of the street. John’s blue gaze swept the perimeter, taking note of where Lemar had moved to help get the hostages out of the burning van without getting killed by the Flag Smashers and where Sam touched down next to Morgenthau’s prone body, kneeling to check her pulse. There was something haunted in his expression that John had seen before in other service members that had found themselves fighting for their lives against those far too young who’d been radicalized by desperation. This ending might have been inevitable, but Sam certainly wasn’t the first to hope it didn’t have to be.
“She’s gone,” he said roughly. “I thought…”
“I know,” John said lowly, not sure if there even was a right thing to say. Finding it certainly wasn’t his talent, even if there was.
“Did you —?”
“I’m guessing it was an NYPD sniper. Not sure, though.”
Something caught the Falcon's attention and he reached forward, pulling a cell phone from her cargo pants pocket. His eyes narrowed from behind his goggles. “Maybe not.”
John took the offered cell phone and saw the message displayed from a private number. Time’s up. The timestamp was only a couple of minutes before. They hadn’t been the only ones hunting down Karli Morgenthau.
“NYPD is grabbing the ones that skipped out,” Lemar announced as he and Bucky approached, Lemar still favouring the leg he’d hurt before the crash through the window.
“We should get you a medic.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Lemar answered with a smirk and John rolled his eyes before turning back to Sam.
“I hear you caught him.”
“Good timing.”
“And a hell of a catch. Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
There should be more. He felt like there should be more. These men had been personal heroes to them and, unless Bailey decided to heap the blame on John and strip him of the shield to hand it to someone else, they were likely to cross paths with them again. They were fully in the hero game now.
“We should get going,” Sam mumbled after a stretch of silence and turned.
Bucky lingered a fraction of a second longer, his eyes fixed on the shield strapped to John’s arm. His dark brows pulled together and his jaw clenched like he was struggling through something. Finally, he pushed a breath out through his nose and met John’s gaze. “It’s not just a shield, you know.”
“I know.”
“Just… take care of it.”
John gave a sharp nod and Steve Roger’s oldest best friend turned, leaving out with the other man that had had his back, leaving the new Captain America and Battlestar standing in the middle of a battle-torn street with red and blue lights, and unknown sniper in the wind, and likely a very angry senator that would force them to smile for the cameras, shake his hand, and chew them out once he’d had his moment.
“Let’s get you that medical help. Does Hernandez still like to dance?”
“I think I’ve got a good excuse.”
“She’ll tell you to walk it off.”
“Probably. You coming with me?”
“On your date? No. I’m going home to my wife. You’re on your own for this one, buddy.”
“Where’s the loyalty?” Lemar laughed and the first real smile started to pull at John’s lips as he slung an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. The battle was over and they’d won. Not just in saving the people who needed to be saved and not just in getting the bad guys, but in proving they could. He might not be Steve Rogers, but he’d proven that he could be Captain America. And as long as he had the people that kept him steady at his side, he could do this.
His phone buzzed as he handed Lemar off to the waiting medics and he saw Olivia’s smile on the lock screen. “Hey, babe,” he greeted softly. “Good timing.”
“I know. Don’t freak out, but you’re on national news.”
John glanced back among the flashing police lights to see that the news cameras had joined. “Oh great.”
Olivia laughed at him from the other end of the line. “Coming home soon?”
He turned away from them, focusing on her voice. “Soon as I can.”
“Good. Love you.”
“You too.” There was a calm that stayed with him, even as the call ended and he heard Bailey calling his name from behind. He glanced over at Lemar who gave him a thumbs up from his place sitting on the bumper of an ambulance. Okay. It was time to get to work.
---
Notes:
And so ends the four-part-one-shot. You know, the one that's turned into an entire series :P
The goal moving forward is to write a few one shots (really one shots!) covering John and Lemar in the field as Captain America and Battlestar as they really settle into their roles, building up to a multi chapter to bring the Thunderbolts in. I've been taking whump requests and one has already been added to this series and I just got another request for the series as well, so if you have a request, give me a shout. It may fit :D
i just read the newest chapter of your lemar lives au & it reminded me of this this post:
[one single bloodcurdling agonized scream] ok time to lock in
mans really thought lemar was dead, booted nico out the window, saw lemar was alive, then went “aight time to team up and kick ass” <3
anyway, just wanted to scream more over ch4 so AHHHHHHHHH ‼️‼️ 💕💕💕
Poor John, that’s such an accurate post for his emotional state here. He’s just trying to stay on target, but he needs Lemar to know that he is not, under any circumstances, allowed to die on him 🥲
We all know what happens to him when Lemar dies 😬
Thank you for screaming 😆😆😆😆
I’m pretty pleased with the way this fic turned out, even if it ended up a four part one shot lol
John pulled himself to his feet, adjusting his balance on instinct as he grabbed for the shield he’d latched onto the holster on his back. He leveraged himself up into the air, giving the throw the downward momentum it would need to break through the armament. Anything less than a super soldier wielding a vibranium shield likely wouldn’t have been able to break through, but the two combined worked in his favour. The shield slammed into the hood of the van, denting it deeply in right above the engine and sending smoke pouring out from the edges as the vehicle sputtered to a stop as John found his footing towards the back of the van's roof.
Bucky sped past and, for just a moment, John thought he was just going to keep going. Instead, he spun hard in the middle of the street, tires squealing, and barreled back at the now immobile van. He took one shot at the bullet proof glass, then another, sending the Flag Smashers scurrying out of both sides as the glass started to splinter with the third direct shot.
John was on the move as soon as he heard the doors unlock. He landed a hard kick on the driver on his way down, sending him slamming into the ground and knocking him out cold. There was a howl of pain from the other side of the van as Bucky put a bullet through her leg. He was still playing gentle with them.
“You gonna fight us on this?” Bucky called out over the sound of the bike’s engine and John pulled his shield from the van’s hood.
“Not if you’re here to help and not to get in the way,” the blond answered honestly.
The other man frowned a little, though that may have just been the natural state of his face. “Sam’s got eyes on the other van and your ride’s incoming.”
How he’d orchestrated that was a question for another time. “If he tries to talk her down he’s going to get himself killed.”
“Rumours greatly exaggerated and all that,” John answered, the half quote seemingly lost on his opponent who seemed more interested in breaking every bone in his body.
They exchanged blows in the tight space. A punch, a kick, and John saw stars when the terrorist head butted him. He felt himself stumble back, the railing pressed against the small of his back and he started to widen his stance to get back into the fight.
He didn’t have time. The next blow sent him flipping backward and he barely snagged the railing the next flight down, leaving him dangling over a twenty-floor drop.
“Okay,” he breathed, forcing himself to think through the pressure that was mounting. Hernandez had their backup inbound, Lemar would handle things if he was delayed, and he just had to think. Not overthink.
The terrorist leaned over the railing to see how far he had dropped and John used his new strength to propel himself up, grabbing the shield from his back, found his footing against the rail he’d just been holding onto, and spun midair to launch it. The red, white, and blue shield ricocheted against the far wall at an angle, slamming into the Flag Smasher hard enough to throw him fully off his feet with a crash that resounded through the stairwell.
