Death Where is Your Sting? - B. Barnes

Chapter 21

The next few days were busy. Sam, Bucky, and Torres spent their nights discussing plans and searching for information on the Power Broker, and they spent their days trying to keep Ray busy and distracted. Bucky took her out on the boat, Torres taught her new dance moves and introduced her to some new music, and Sam kept challenged her to cooking competitions. While she tried to hide her symptoms, Sam had noticed an occasional limp, blinding headaches that would stop her in her tracks, the twitching fingers that had her hiding her hands most of the time. They all tried to respect the fact that Ray felt like a burden, avoiding the topic and letting her manage on her own within reason, but it didn't stop them from planning how to help once she'd retired for the night.

Ray had been enjoying her time with the guys. She and Sam traded jabs all day, their humor complimenting one another, while he tried to boss her around like a typical big brother. She fussed over Torres, telling him to eat more, to get out and find a girl; one night at dinner, he'd told her he didn't need another overbearing abuela, he already had one, and she'd shoved him off his chair, telling him to respect his elders. And Bucky...well, Bucky was her rock, her stability, a giant pain in her ass who was overprotective and worried too much. And Bucky was more to her...more than just a friend but she didn't know if...She'd never known love. Was this it? Did she love him? Them? 

She was enjoying having this - love, friendship, family - things she didn't remember ever having before, but she hated the burning, ever-growing pit of worry in her stomach that came with it. What if they changed their mind about her? How could they care for such a monster? What if they got hurt or killed? Or worse...what if she hurt them?

This morning, the four of them had enjoyed coffee on the porch and trained together, sparring - without incident. After lunch, Bucky had gone to make some calls and do some boat repairs to keep busy, worry tearing at him. Torres had headed upstairs to focus on more research in solitude. Sam had stayed with Ray, chatting with her and telling her about his sister and nephews, their childhood and family business. She'd laughed at his stories, and despite the ache that seemed to have settled in her bones in the last few days, she was feeling good.

She and Sam got up to start cooking some dinner, arguing over who was the better cook, but as Ray reached the counter, everything went sideways. The room spun, the edges of her vision darkened, and her hearing went fuzzy, a persistent ringing keeping her from hearing properly. She grasped the edge of the counter to steady herself. She knew Sam was talking - sensed it - but she couldn't hear his words, couldn't respond. She saw him turn, smiling, his lips moving, so she smiled back, nodding her head. It'll clear; you'll be fine. I just need a few minutes...

"Gonna grab a sweater," she heard herself saying. She felt her body moving toward the living room, toward the stairs. But then her legs crumpled. She tried to catch herself, grabbed at the closest item - she couldn't see it and missed. Her shoulder hit the floor, and she heard something shatter. Sam was yelling from - where was he? And then her eyes rolled back and everything went black.

~<>~

"You cold?" Sam had called to Ray when she said she was going to get a sweater. She was already wearing one of Bucky's Henleys despite the Louisiana heat and the thought of her feeling cold concerned him. Not realizing she'd already started to leave, he continued chopping carrots for the jambalaya until he heard a crash. Sam spun toward the source of the sound.

Sam dropped his knife at the sight of Ray, floor lamp shattered beside her, as her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to shake. "Torres!" Sam yelled up the stairs as he ran to Ray, turning her on her side. She was burning up. He heard Torres's feet on the stairs and glanced up. "She's seizing. I need to cool her down."