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mintyys-blog · 19 days ago

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GROUNDED— sam wilson

WARNINGS: injury, blood, gunfire.

The sky was a blur of smoke and fire, the roar of engines and gunfire fading into the distance as you crashed through the trees. Branches snapped against your body, your wings useless, pain flaring in your back where they’d taken the hit. The impact with the ground knocked the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, all you could do was lie there, staring up at the shifting canopy, trying to make sense of the world.

Then—Sam.

Panic surged through you as you pushed up onto your elbows, ignoring the sharp sting in your ribs. You turned your head just in time to see him slam into the earth a few yards away, his jetpack sparking violently before sputtering out completely. He groaned, rolling onto his side, one hand clutching his shoulder.

“Sam!” You forced yourself to your feet, stumbling toward him. Every step sent another bolt of pain through you, but none of it mattered. “Are you—?”

“I’m good,” he gritted out, even as he winced. “Jetpack’s fried, though.” His gaze flickered to your back, to the awkward angle of your wings. “And you?”

You swallowed hard. “Not flying out of here anytime soon.”

Sam sighed, dragging a hand down his face before pushing himself up. His sharp eyes scanned the dense forest around you, muscles tense with the same realization settling in your gut. You were deep in enemy territory, grounded, and alone.

The mission had gone sideways fast. A simple recon op had turned into an ambush, and the last thing you remembered before crashing was shouting Sam’s name over comms as you took fire. Now, the silence of the forest was almost unnerving, broken only by the occasional distant rumble of enemy aircraft. If they were searching for survivors, you didn’t have much time before they found you.

You met Sam’s gaze, both of you thinking the same thing. Get moving. Find cover. Survive.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

You rolled your shoulders, testing your limbs, biting back a grimace at the sharp protest from your wings. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for an argument, just reached out and curled his fingers around your wrist, tugging you into motion. His grip was steady, grounding. You let him lead the way, both of you disappearing into the trees, step by painful step.

The mission was a disaster. Your bodies were battered, your escape routes gone.

But at least you weren’t alone.

You and Sam moved through the trees with quiet urgency, both of you running on adrenaline and the sharp edge of survival instinct. Every crunch of leaves beneath your boots felt too loud, every breath too harsh in the eerie stillness of the forest. The enemy wasn’t far behind—you could feel it.

Sam’s grip on your wrist loosened as he glanced back at you. “You good?”

You nodded, even though “good” wasn’t exactly the word you’d use. Pain radiated through your back where your wings hung useless, the muscles strained and battered from the crash. Every step sent a fresh wave of fire through your ribs, but you weren’t about to complain. Sam wasn’t in much better shape—his jetpack was totaled, and you’d seen the way he favored his shoulder, probably wrenched from impact.

“We need to find somewhere to hole up,” he muttered, scanning the landscape. “If they’re looking for us, we can’t keep moving in the open.”

You followed his gaze. The forest was dense, but not enough to hide in forever. You needed shelter—something solid, defensible.

“There,” you said, pointing to a rocky outcrop in the distance. The jagged stones jutted from the earth like a broken spine, and if you were lucky, there might be a cave or crevice you could squeeze into.

Sam nodded. “Let’s check it out.”

The two of you pushed forward, keeping low, each step careful but quick. The weight of exhaustion started pressing on you, but you ignored it. Surviving came first.

By the time you reached the outcrop, your breath was coming fast, and Sam wasn’t looking much better. Up close, the rocks loomed even larger, weathered and uneven, but the real prize was the narrow opening tucked between two massive slabs.

Sam crouched to peer inside. “Looks deep enough. Not exactly five-star accommodations, but it’ll do.”

“At this point, I’d settle for a broom closet,” you muttered.

Sam huffed out a tired chuckle and stepped aside, gesturing for you to go first. You squeezed through the gap, wincing as your injured wings scraped against the rough stone. Inside, the cave was just big enough for the two of you to sit without being seen from the entrance. It smelled like damp earth and moss, but it was dry and, more importantly, hidden.

Sam collapsed onto the ground beside you with a groan, leaning his head back against the stone. “Okay,” he breathed. “That sucked.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Yeah. And it’s only gonna get worse if we don’t figure out a way out of here.”

His eyes flicked to you, sharp but warm. “We’ll figure it out.”

The certainty in his voice sent something steadying through you, anchoring you to the moment. No matter how bad things got, you weren’t alone.

Silence settled between you and Sam, broken only by your breathing and the distant hum of aircraft overhead. The enemy was still searching. You knew that if they found you now, in this state, neither of you would make it out alive.

Sam exhaled sharply, tilting his head toward you. “How bad is it?”

You followed his gaze to your wings, trying to shift them experimentally. Pain flared white-hot down your spine, forcing you to suck in a breath. Not good. They weren’t broken, but they were battered enough to be useless.

“Won’t be flying anytime soon,” you admitted. “Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Sam frowned, his dark eyes scanning your face, like he didn’t quite believe you. “Lemme see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

His voice was firm but not unkind, and under different circumstances, you might’ve argued. But you were too damn tired, and if anyone understood what it felt like to have your wings taken from you, it was Sam.

You sighed and turned slightly, letting him get a better look. His fingers were gentle as they brushed over the injured joints, careful not to press too hard. Even so, you had to grit your teeth against the pain.

“Bruised pretty bad,” he muttered. “Some cuts, but nothing deep. You’ll heal.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Guess I won’t be showing off anytime soon.”

Sam huffed a quiet laugh, but there was something in his expression—something heavy. “I know how it feels,” he said, voice lower now. “Being grounded.”

You met his gaze, and for a second, neither of you spoke. Sam had lost his wings before. He knew the helplessness, the frustration, the way it clawed at you. And now, with his jetpack destroyed and your wings out of commission, you were both stuck.

“It won’t be forever,” he added, softer this time.

You weren’t sure if he was talking about your injuries or the situation as a whole, but you nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

A burst of static crackled over your comms, and both of you tensed. The signal had been dead since the crash—interference, maybe, or just bad luck—but now, through the static, a voice broke through.

“—anyone—copy? Repeat—”

Sam sat up straighter, tapping the device in his ear. “This is Wilson. Who’s there?”

More static. Then: “—been compromised—fallback point—”

The signal cut out again. You and Sam exchanged a look. Whoever that was, they were in trouble. And if they were using emergency channels, that meant they were nearby.

Sam clenched his jaw. “We need to find them.”

You shifted, testing your strength. Your wings were useless, but your legs still worked, and right now, that was enough. “Then let’s move.”

Sam gave you a small, tired grin. “Knew you were gonna say that.”

With that, you both pushed to your feet, shaking off exhaustion and pain. There was no time to rest—not yet. The mission wasn’t over. And neither of you were leaving the other behind.

The cold settled into your bones as you and Sam slipped out of the cave, moving as quickly as your battered bodies would allow. Your wings ached, Sam’s arm hung stiff at his side, but neither of you complained. There was someone out there, someone in trouble, and you weren’t about to sit and wait while they got picked off.

The forest was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of wildlife drowned out by the occasional distant whine of enemy aircraft. You and Sam kept low, weaving between trees, avoiding open ground. The comms had gone silent again, but that only made the urgency in Sam’s movements sharper.

“How far do you think they are?” you whispered, eyes scanning the dense foliage ahead.

Sam shook his head. “Hard to say. Could be a mile, could be five. If their signal came through at all, they’re close enough that interference isn’t fully blocking them.” He glanced at you. “You up for this?”

You shot him a tired smirk. “Too late to ask that now, Wilson.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Just checking.”

The two of you pressed forward, step by painful step. The terrain was rough, uneven, and every so often you had to bite down a grimace as your wings shifted wrong. Sam wasn’t faring much better—his breathing was getting heavier, and you knew his shoulder was worse than he let on.

After nearly half an hour of pushing through the underbrush, you both froze at the same time.

Voices.

Low, tense, not far ahead.

Sam motioned for you to drop low, and you crouched beside him behind a fallen log, listening.

“…No response. They’re either dead or they’re not picking up.”

A second voice, gruffer, impatient. “Orders are to sweep the area. If we find them, we take them out.”

Your stomach turned. Enemy patrol.

Sam met your gaze, his jaw tight. There were at least two of them, maybe more. They were close, but not close enough to see you—yet. And worst of all, if they were talking about the same signal you and Sam had picked up, that meant they were looking for whoever had sent it, too.

And they wouldn’t be offering help.

Sam’s hand brushed yours, just for a second, grounding you. Then he nodded toward the trees, silently asking: Move or fight?

You exhaled slowly, weighing your options. You were injured, exhausted, outnumbered. But if you let these guys get ahead of you, whoever had sent that distress signal wouldn’t stand a chance.

You curled your fingers into a fist and met Sam’s eyes. We take them down.

A flicker of something—approval, determination—passed over his face. Then, in perfect sync, the two of you moved.

You circled left, Sam right, moving through the shadows like ghosts. The patrol had no idea what was coming. Time to even the odds.

You moved like a whisper through the trees, each step deliberate and silent, your heart pounding with the anticipation of what was coming. The patrol was still ahead, close enough to hear their voices but not close enough to spot you. You could feel the tension between you and Sam—this was no longer just survival, it was a choice to act, to fight back.

The first guard was easy enough to pick off. His back was to you, focused on scanning the ground for any sign of movement. You crept up behind him, ducking low as you covered the distance between you. When you were within reach, you took a breath and in one swift motion, your hand clamped over his mouth, pulling him into a chokehold. His struggles were brief—he didn’t even get the chance to make a sound before he slumped, unconscious.

You set him down carefully, easing him to the ground. A quick glance confirmed that Sam had taken care of the second one—an efficient, near-silent takedown just like yours.

But the rest? They were still out there. And you didn’t have much time before the rest of the patrol came looking for their missing comrades.

Sam was already on his feet, signaling for you to follow. He moved quickly, and despite the ache in your body, you stayed right on his tail. The next part would be the tricky one: you couldn’t afford to let anyone alert the others. You had to move fast, neutralize the threat before it escalated.

You rounded the next cluster of trees and found the remaining two soldiers, chatting casually as they scouted the area. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

You glanced at Sam—this was it.

In an unspoken agreement, the two of you moved in tandem. You slid to the left, aiming for the soldier on the far side. You didn’t hesitate. With a swift, fluid movement, you grabbed a large branch and swung it in one smooth arc, knocking the soldier out cold.

Sam was already ahead of you, using the distraction to his advantage. He took down the other soldier with a quick, precise punch to the temple, sending him crumpling to the ground without a sound.

For a moment, you both stood there, catching your breath. The forest felt oddly still, like the world was holding its breath.

“Nice work,” Sam said, his voice low but satisfied.

You gave him a tight-lipped grin. “Takes one to know one.”

Sam smirked, but the moment didn’t last. There was no time for it. You had to keep moving.

You checked the soldiers’ gear quickly—nothing useful, except for a few grenades and an emergency beacon. You tucked the beacon into your pocket, knowing it might come in handy later.

Sam gestured toward the deeper part of the forest. “Let’s keep moving. Whoever sent that signal can’t be far.”

You nodded, your body still buzzing with adrenaline. You weren’t out of the woods yet—there were more patrols, more danger ahead—but you had bought yourself some time. You and Sam had done what you needed to do, and now you just had to finish the job.

You moved forward, your determination growing stronger with every step. This wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about making sure that whoever was out there didn’t get left behind.

And for some reason, with Sam by your side, you felt like you might actually make it out of this alive.

The forest felt like it was closing in on you as the hours stretched on. Your body was screaming in protest with every step you took, your wings aching with every shift of your posture. Sam wasn’t faring any better—his breath came in sharp, shallow bursts, and the arm he was favoring had begun to stiffen painfully.

But neither of you said anything. There was no time to acknowledge the exhaustion gnawing at you both. Not while you were still on enemy turf, and not while that distress signal was still out there, unanswered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of moving in the shadows, you came upon a clearing. It was small but open, perfect for spotting any threats. And there, just beyond the tree line, you saw them.

The source of the signal.

A soldier, badly wounded, lying on the ground, barely conscious, clutching their side as though the blood seeping from the wound could be stopped with sheer willpower.

You sucked in a breath, about to move toward them, but Sam’s hand shot out, gripping your arm tightly. He pulled you back, his gaze scanning the area warily.

“Stay low,” he whispered urgently. “There’s movement. We’re not alone.”

You didn’t need him to say more. You could hear the rustling of leaves, the crunch of boots on the forest floor. Someone was nearby. And if they saw you or the soldier, you’d be dead in an instant.

You flattened yourself against a nearby tree, and Sam did the same, moving swiftly, quietly. But it was too late.

A shout rang out from the trees, a call you couldn’t understand—but it didn’t matter. They’d found you.

In a blur, a soldier emerged from the shadows, his gun raised, eyes locking onto you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you knew, instinctively, you couldn’t run. Not now. You wouldn’t make it far with your wings out of commission and Sam hurt.

But Sam was faster.

In a single motion, he pushed you behind him, shielding you from the soldier’s view. “Stay down!” he barked, his voice hard with authority.

The soldier took a step forward, and that’s when it happened. Another figure emerged from the trees—this one quicker than you expected. Without warning, they grabbed for your injured wing.

Pain exploded through you as someone yanked, pulling at the delicate joints. You cried out, unable to stop it, the agony sharp and intense. It felt like your whole body was being torn apart.

But Sam was there, faster than you could process. His arm shot out, and in an instant, he was in front of you, knocking the soldier away with a vicious force. He spun, placing himself between you and the threat, his eyes blazing with protectiveness.

“Don’t touch her!” Sam’s voice was a growl, the protective instinct flooding him as he shielded you from the soldier’s approach. He didn’t even hesitate before lunging, landing a hit that sent the soldier stumbling backward, off balance.

You were trembling, barely able to focus on the struggle in front of you. The pain in your wings felt unbearable, but Sam’s presence kept you grounded. He wasn’t letting you go. Not now, not ever.

The second soldier moved to attack, but Sam was on him like a shadow, faster, relentless. He threw a punch that knocked the soldier to the ground, disarming him in a heartbeat. You watched, your breath caught in your throat, as Sam moved with precision, never letting anyone get close to you.

It was a blur of motion, and then, finally, silence.

Sam stood over the fallen soldiers, his chest heaving with the weight of exertion. His gaze flickered back to you, his eyes softening, despite the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice cutting through the noise in your head.

You nodded, though every part of you wanted to collapse. “I’m fine. Just—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could speak, his hand was on your arm, helping you to your feet. “Let’s go. We’re getting out of here.”

His strength was unwavering as he guided you toward the injured soldier, pulling them along with the same careful attention he’d given you. The moment you took a step, though, the sound of helicopters in the distance reached your ears—louder, closer.

Sam froze, looking up. His jaw tightened as he scanned the sky. “This is it,” he murmured. “We’ve got backup.”

Relief surged through you in a tidal wave, so sudden and overwhelming that your knees nearly gave out. But Sam’s steady hand on your back kept you upright.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t take another step, a blacked-out chopper broke through the canopy, its engines roaring.

“Sam!” a voice crackled over the comms. “We’re here!”

Sam’s shoulders slumped slightly, as if he could finally let go of the tension. But his eyes never left you.

“I told you we’d make it,” he said, his voice soft but filled with conviction.

You let yourself lean into him for a brief moment, your hand still pressed against your side, trying to steady your breathing. He was right. You had made it. Together.

The chopper hovered overhead, lowering a ladder for you to climb up. Sam helped you into the air, his hand never leaving your back, guiding you, supporting you, even now.

As you finally made it to the safety of the helicopter, you glanced back one last time at the wreckage of the forest below.

You had made it. You had survived. And you knew, somehow, that no matter what came next, you weren’t doing it alone. Sam had your back. Always.

The helicopter ride back was a blur of motion, the wind whipping around you, the sound of blades cutting through the air. You sat next to Sam, both of you silent as the exhaustion from the past few days settled heavily in your bones. The initial surge of adrenaline had faded, leaving only the dull throb of your injuries and the weight of what you’d survived.

You leaned back against the cool interior of the helicopter, eyes closing for just a moment, and let the hum of the engines lull you into a state of semi-consciousness. You could feel the bruises along your wings, the cuts and scrapes from the jungle’s unforgiving terrain, but none of it mattered now. You were alive.

Sam’s hand found yours, a quiet reassurance, grounding you in the present. You looked at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since the chaos had ended.

“Still here?” he asked, voice rough but warm.

You squeezed his hand in return, letting the steady pressure calm your racing thoughts. “Yeah. Still here.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. There were things unsaid between you, things you both understood but hadn’t fully processed. You both had been to the brink, and the bond you’d formed in those few days went deeper than words could reach.

“You were—” You started, but the words caught in your throat. The intensity of everything, the near-death moments, the way he’d put himself in harm’s way to protect you… it was too much to say all at once.

Sam nodded, like he understood. “I couldn’t just let you go.”

The words were simple, but the weight of them hit you hard. He hadn’t hesitated, not once. In a world where survival was often a solo game, Sam had made it clear—he was with you. And you were with him.

The helicopter banked, and the distant lights of a military base began to come into view, a sight that filled you with both relief and sadness. Relief because you knew the danger was behind you, sadness because it meant the mission was over, and the connection you’d forged over those harrowing days would become just another memory.

The chopper touched down, and the door slid open. Soldiers, medics, and officers rushed forward, but Sam’s hand tightened around yours for a brief moment before he let go.

“I’ve got to report in,” he said, his tone soft but matter-of-fact. “Get checked out. We’ll talk later.”

You nodded, even though the “later” felt a bit more uncertain than you wanted to admit. There was so much left to say, but for now, the quiet understanding between you was enough.

You were ushered into the medical area, where the medics immediately began to tend to your injuries—your wings, the bruises, the cuts. But all you could think about was Sam, standing on the other side of the room, watching you with that same quiet intensity that had gotten you through the worst of it.

When the medics were done, and the initial treatment was over, you stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The base was alive with the usual bustle of military life—people moving with purpose, preparing for the next mission, the next step. But you weren’t ready to move on just yet.

You found Sam near the edge of the landing pad, looking out over the vast expanse of land.

“Hey,” you said, your voice soft.

He turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, but then his expression softened as he saw you standing there.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice low.

You walked toward him, your steps tentative at first, then more confident. When you reached him, you stopped, just a few inches apart, both of you wrapped in the quiet hum of the night.

“I guess… this is it?” You didn’t know what else to say. The mission was over, the danger was past.

But Sam didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached out, his hand finding yours again, a gentle but firm grasp.

“No,” he said simply, his voice steady. “This isn’t the end. Not for us.”

You felt a small, unexpected warmth spread through your chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the connection between you wouldn’t end here. That whatever this was—whatever you had found in the jungle, in the fight, in each other—it wasn’t something you’d be leaving behind.

Sam’s gaze softened, and for the first time in days, you both exhaled, the tension easing from your bodies. You didn’t need to say anything more. The truth was there, unspoken, in the way your fingers intertwined and the quiet understanding that settled between you.

The world outside the base might have been chaos, but for now, with Sam by your side, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Together.