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A drive across town. A motel room paid in cash. Bucky had propped a chair up in front of the door and sat in it, arms folded, and struggling hard to balance his newfound sympathy with an implacable desire to see Pepper cured.
After she'd awoken and the first of the withdrawal symptoms had started to hit in, what started as a good idea had swiftly gone downhill, leaving Bucky quite sure he had made a greivous error. Blacksite rendition he could do; torture someone, he could do that, too.
Watching Pepper thrash and writhe, he's having serious doubts about his ability to help her. He'd sobered folks off of beer, Indonesian herbs, even experimental amphetamines.
What Pepper's dealing with is something else entirely, and her discomfort is starting to weaken his resolve.
*
It's beyond discomfort. The first few hours? She was sick more than once. Now it's to the point that there is simply nothing left in her system to be sick *on*, though keeping down water even seems impossible. She hasn't really stopped shaking or sweating, the ashen color of her skin just getting worse as the day goes on. She goes in and out of consciousness now, the misery just too overwhelming, breath shallow, pulse faint and racing, though it's hitting periods of arrhythmia as well now. Her body is breaking down violently, and violently fast. Her red hair sticks against her skin, plastered to forehead and throat.
Her eyes have been mostly closed for the last little while, but they finally flutter back open, trying to get in enough breath the room can stop spinning. "…Jack… B-Bucky… please… Help me… please… take me home, please…" Home, where she has another dose. Home where she can stop all of this.
*
Not showing the niggling, uncertain sympathy he feels, Bucky shakes his head. "You've got to get sober, Pepper," he tells her, voice unmoved. "Otherwise you'll just start using again. Clean and done in one go, that's the easiest way to do it. Did it to my buddy Marvin when he got hooked on moonshine in '38," he remarks.
Still— she's vomiting. And looking /worse/. And the reedy rasp of her lungs and her glazed eyes gives him concern, particularly as she's having trouble hydrating. "Here. Dry your brow," he offers, handing Pepper her purse and pulling a hankie from it. "I'll get you some more water." He retrieves the glass and moves into the small bathroom, where the tap squeaks.
*
A faint shake of her head at the comment about getting sober and moonshine. Pepper is trying to get him to see how bad this is. She's not acting, it's not some game, she feels like she's *dying*. Hell, she might be, if this gets much worse. She shakes a bit more, rather obviously, as he hands her that kerchief, "…Fuck, Bucky, this… this isn't…moonshine…" No, it's some ridiculously engineered street drug that *gives people mutant powers*. It's some high level of science. It's the sort of drug that has been untested before.
And, clearly, it's after effects are just as bad as the powers it grants are strong. "…no more water… I can't…" Being sick makes everything hurt. She knows she can't keep it down. But as he insists and turns for the bathroom, well… she had a chance. While she was almost lucid. If she could find the little hidden pocket in her purse, where she squirreled away some just in case… Shaking fingertips rip through the interior of that small bag.
*
The sound of running water overrides the the sound of fabric tearing; Bucky doesn't hear Pepper digging for her last, emergency pill. Underestimating her? Not anticipating her? Perhaps it just doesn't occur to him that Pepper is such an intelligent, cautious individual, that she'd hide doses even in the lining of her purse.
Regardless, she's palmed the pill before he gets back, and when he hands her the water, his face is symapthetic and implacable. "I've seen people hooked on all kinds of stuff. The only good way to shake it is to sweat it out," Bucky says, not grasping the severity of the situation. "Here, drink some water. I guarantee you'll feel better once you get this down."
*
It's just in time that she gets that pill free, palming it in her fist, but then her hands have spent much of the day clenched, so that doesn't look too much more strange. Still, the thought of getting water down is enough to almost make her sick alone. "…I haven't kept it down all day… God, Bucky… I can't do this… I know you're trying, but… I can't." Pepper is begging him now, and she's not a woman who begs. She's proud, confident, elegant. She is a woman who stands on her own. But now she's been reduced to pieces and a begging sort of agony. She can only hope this last plea will work. She doesn't want to play with his brain, she doesn't want to be no better than the Russians… but she also doesn't know how much longer she can survive this.
*
Bucky looks away, discomfort finally manifesting on his features. Some uncertainty. She looks more than miserable, she looks sick. Very unwell, to the point of death. He frowns heavily, looking at the closed drapes, then shakes his head. Gotta be resolute. It's for her own good.
"It's for your own good, Pepper," he says, stubbornly. "You've got to sweat this out. You've spent too much time on Wall Street with those millionaires," he says. "You gotta shake it. You can sweat this out, you just— you just need a little time," he says, turning around to the little kitchenette. He clicks on the electric stove and starts opening a can of soup. "Some food will help," he says, back to her.
*
As he denies her again, a faint, desperate whimper escapes Pepper's lips. If she could cry, she would, but she's even cried out at this point. She has no choice, he's given her utterly no choice. "…I'm so sorry…" Pepper rasps out, quiet enough he might not even hear it, especailly as he turns away to go make food, the thought of which also makes her stomach turn horribly. She couldn't take it any more. She had to use the back up supply. He gave her no choice.
So, when she's certain he's fully out of this side of the room, the sound of him using the can opener in the little kitchenette clear, she reaches her clenched fist up to her lips and pops that pill past her mouth. Swallowing now is still hard, but with the promise of relief, her body can manage it. She even manages to scoop up that glass of water, taking a shaking sip to make certain the pill goes down. It just needed to kick in now… ten, twenty minutes at most…
*
Bucky leaves Pepper a few minutes to herself as he cooks the soup. His expression would betray it all— immense, crushing guilt at what he's putting her through to try and help her. Certainty that he /started/ doing the right thing, but at her whimpering agony, unsure that it still is.
So he makes the soup, boiling noodles and stirring the broth, and giving Pepper a few minutes for the water to help settle her stomach. It takes just about ten minutes, and he decants the soup to a sturdy, over-used ceramic bowl and hands it to Pepper, sitting near her knees on the bed and holding soup and spoon out for her.
"Here. Try just a few bites. If you can keep it down, then I think that's a good sign, yeah?"
*
While the full affect of the powers hasn't quite kicked in yet, her body is already hungrily responding to that drug which is levelling out that desperate change in body chemistry. She's still pale, that damp sweat across her brow, but her lips aren't blue gray like before. She seems to be breathing just a bit easier and all of that is a good sign. Pepper drowsily turns her head as he comes back, sinking onto the bed next to her knees. She gives him a weak, faint smile, guilt and shame still clear in her eyes, but at least she can even focus on him now.
"…I…I'm not hungry, Bucky. I just want to go home. Can…can you take me home?" Pepper asks softly. And while her voice isn't at full power yet, it's like there are subtle, hypnotizing tones behind her words that make everything she says sound like a good idea. The right thing to do. It'd be so easy to just listen to her…
*
"Sure thing," Bucky says, almost instantly. "But have a little soup," he says, swayed but not convinced, and settles the bowl in her hands. "Just a little broth, huh?" he offers. He smiles crookedly. "My mom used to make me soup when I was sick," he says. "I don't reemmber much about Brooklyn but I remember her giving me soup when I fell in the canal. Me and Steve, we were— well, I was playing ice hockey, and Steve was trying to keep up, and he went out into the thin ice. I chased him and well, the skinny shit he was, I fell in. Steve helped pull me out, used his hockey stick and some rope to haul me while the other kids were all freaking out. No one else woulda thought to make an anchor for me."
*
Well, at least her stomach has settled somewhat as the drug keeps working through her system. Even if Pepper wasn't hungry, she could probably keep the soup down in the very least. She shifts back onto her arm, pushing herself up just enough against the pillows that she can drink soup without getting it everywhere. She looks like a woman who has been through hell and back, but at least she's come back from the edge. That might be reassuring to Bucky, more than anything. She gives a weak, half laugh to the story, "…I'm glad he did. Steve's… a smart man… good friend." She murmurs softly, but she finally accepts the bowl and brings it up to her lips to take a few sips. SHe's trying.
*
Bucky smiles encouragingly, relief on his face when Pepper starts eating. And the rallying expression gives him even more hope, and he squeezes her calf. "There you go. Nice and slow," he soothes, watching her moving slowly, but gaining more strength with every bite. The power of Campbell's, everyone!
"Steve's…" His face twitches. "Steve and I had some laughs, back in Brooklyn," he remarks. "I… it's hard to remember that, sometimes, after what… after what happened in the war," he says, looking at his left hand, the metal clicking against his palm as fingers curl.
*
Without even thinking about it, Pepper's still rather out of it, she gives a statement that could be easily interpreted as a directive. The powered command behind her voice probably lacing into his head, planting suggestions and needs she doesn't even realize she's doing. "He's…worried about you. You should go back and see him, you know. Talk to him. He just wants to help you, he won't let them hurt you…It's Steve. You know that's true."
With every passing minute, her voice is getting stronger. More irresistable. The pied piper didn't have as alluring and mind-clouding power as Pepper's voice does, as the vigor comes full into it's power. Her face looks almost a normal color now.
*
Bucky blinks, a flickering twitch at his left eyebrow. "He always did worry," Bucky agrees, a bit mechanically. "He always did want to help me." His left arm twitches once and he shakes himself from his reverie, looking at Pepper, and smiles again. "But first, let's get you feeling better," he says, tapping the soup bowl's rim. "Keep eating, okay? Once we get some food in you, you'll feel right as rain, then we can plan our next move."
An expression of distress flits across his dark, broody eyes. "I— I mean, … my next move," he says, more quietly. "I guess… I guess that it's gonna be hard for you to date a wanted fugitive," he says, his voice going low and somber.
*
Another few sips of soup, Pepper actually *did* need the sustinence. It's been a wild ride and she wasn't exactly a plump woman in the first place. So, she takes a good sip of it, trying to organize her thoughts, though as Bucky stammers over a few of his words, her eyes widen. She realizes he's already repeated a few things she's said. The Vigor is truly taking hold. She had to have more of a care with her words than before. She watches him with eyes that suddenly look a bit more guilty — she was so bad at lying to him. But she had to do it.
"…I'll finish this, then… I should go home. Go back to work. Clearly I'm feeling better. It… it's better that way. But… I… I want to get you help, Bucky. I think SHIELD really would help you…" She murmurs softly. THe commentary about going home? That was said clear, confident. That she wanted him to believe and let her do. But the SHIELD stuff, she isn't trying to brain wash him. She just wants to nudge him into thinking about it.
*
"You should go home and go back to work," Bucky agrees, echoing her words, her timing— even her inflections, head nodding. "That'd be best, because you're feeling better."
He shakes his head at the mention of SHIELD, though, fighting the natural tone of persuasion in her Vigor-infused voice. "No— I— Pepper, there are people, and there are Agents," he says, stress in his voice. "I know there are people that want to help me, but the agents, they want to lock me up. Throw me in a black site and lose the key. We're talking— we're talking a windowless cell somewhere in a CIA holding facility, buried so far outside American borders no one will ever find me. They'll cut my brain open trying to learn what I know, then scoop it all out to figure out how I tick. And once they're done with me, they'll take apart my arm and shoulder and leave me to rot in some cage."
*
"…I don't think they are like that, Bucky. Heather wouldn't let it happen. They helped Heather's boyfriend… he's out now. Free. They didn't keep him locked up. I just… you can't run forever. Do you really want to run forever?" Pepper asks softly, her voice and heart aching for him, to her very core. Could she be with a man who was forever on the run? She didn't know. But if he had any doubt about her love, it's bare, raw in her eyes right now. Hurting for the thought of losing him, the thought of him forever being on the run.
*
"You don't /know/, Pepper," Bucky says, fruustration in his voice. "I've been to the black sites. I've seen what happens in a rendition play. I know how the game is played. Hell, SHIELD might even trade me back to the Russians to get some of their people free. You know what a card I'd be? They could get half the spies in Berlin back across the border by handing me over to the KGB— and they won't just kill me, they'll make sure I never break out of the programming again."
"I can't go back, Pepper, I can trust SHIELD to protect me— and I can't trust them to protect you, either, now that I'm out. SOoner or later, someone's going to come after you because of me," he says, miserably refusing to see the logic in her position.
*
The redhead winces a bit, at the frustration in his voice and the insistence that this isn't going to work. Pepper's still exhausted, still ridiculously weak from two days without her fix, so the argument here and now isn't something she really is up for facing. But it breaks her heart too. "Bucky, please…Just think about it. And talk to Steve. For me. See what he says? And think about it. I… I'm begging you." SHe sits up straighter now, finding what small reserves of strength she can to take his hand, squeeze his fingertips, encourage that promise even if she wasn't ordering him back there right now.
*
"I'll talk to Steve, for you," Bucky says, automatically. "I'll think about it."
He rubs his forehead, scowling at himself. Didn't he just get through saying it'd be a bad idea? But Steve's Steve. They go way back. Even if Steve /did/ try to kill him by throwing him into a running river.
"I'll…. I'll figure something out," he mutters, shaking his head.
"Look, just… finish your soup, okay? Then you can rest a bit and I'll drive you home," Bucky tells Pepper. "No one's looking for my van, they won't realize I'm driving you. I— I gotta be careful, Pepper," he admonishes her. "I know Russians are still in town, and SHIELD's looking for me, and… I want to just get on my bike and drive to Ottowa or something," he sighs. "Take you with me. Start a life away from this. But I have to clean house before I go, or they /will/ come after me again."
*
Sadly, Pepper didn't know how long the Vigor's powers really lasted. It was never hours. 30 minutes at most, sometimes less. It meant she didn't have much time to KNOW that she could talk him into letting her go, and she had to move. Pepper nods quietly. "Thank you…just talk to Steve. That's all I ask." SHe reinforces that suggestion, having convinced herself it was for the best, for him. Then she takes in a shaking sort of breath and finishes the last gulp of soup, setting the bowl aside.
"You…don't need to drive me, Bucky. YOu just need to let me go. Give me enough money to get a cab and let me go. I'll be fine. I promise." She states those words clear and firmly, wanting every bit of a directive she gives to ring true and deep in his head. She hated it. Every statement dug the guilt deeper in her heart, but she needed to get out before the drug wore off and he caught on to what happened.
*
"I'll let you go. Here's some money," Bucky says, digging in his pocket. He comes up with a few crumpled bills— a pair of tens and a few dollars, well worn. He digs in his other pocket for change, and presses it into Pepper's palms. "That should get you a cab back uptown," he tells her. He reaches up and strokes her cheek.
"Pepper, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this," he says, shaking his head. "I don't—" he exhales. "I wish I could tell you I wish we'd never met, so I could spare you this, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm sorry for being selfish, but that's the truth."
*
While Pepper knows that she's racing against the clock, she can't just walk out like that. She cares too damn much for him. She takes just the ten, that will be more than enough money to get her where she needs to go, and presses the rest of the money back into his palm. "…I… I don't need that much. Here. Take it. This will be enough. And… I… I can't say that either. I love you, Bucky. I… I hope you believe that. I hope you know that I do, when… you understand." When he realizes that she was somehow ordering him around, that she recovered too damn fast from the withdrawal, that she probably took another hit. Hopefully he won't hate her.
She then leans up, pressing a cool lipped kiss to his mouth. "I do love you. Find Steve. We… we'll see each other again soon." And with that, she turns to go, slipping on her heels which were tumbled down besides the door and grabbing at her jacket. She makes quick work of shrugging into it before she peeks out the door, making certain the parking lot is empty. Then she opens the door to the chilly night.
*
Bucky takes the ten dutifully, sitting on the bed like a lump as Pepper gathers herself to leave. He kisses her back, though, looking up at her. "I love you too, Pepper," he says— though with the Vigor in her system, she might wonder if it's him or the drug talking. He watches her go, eyes sad and conflicted, and when she's gone his fingers curl around the cash in his palm. He gets up and moves to the phone, picking it up, and dials a number from memory.
"Operator, gimme Evan Miller in Brooklyn," Bucky says. A beat as he's connected.
"Evan," he says, dropping his voice into a guttural register, and speaking through a napkin over the phone. "Challenge: thunder. Tell Steve Rogers that a friend needs him. Memorial Park, tomorrow, two PM. It's urgent." And he hangs up before Evan can respond— and looks out the crack in the drapes, doubt on his craggy features.
*