make_it_hurt | Closed RP with [Punched-Hitler]

He woke up slowly. It was an unusual feeling, to wake to nothing more than his body's own sleep cycle, instead of being woken up by harsh hands and pain. He honestly hadn't been expecting to wake up, sure that he was dead, sure that the bullet they had put in his chest should have killed him.

Instead, Bucky Barnes woke up in a hospital bed, oxygen line hooked over his ears, the steady beeping and whirring of machinery all around him. Everything hurt - his broken ankle, the bruises on his legs from beatings, the lash marks over his back. It is nearly torture to breathe, his chest wrapped tightly in bandages. This wasn't the dark, dank cellar he had spent (as close as he could figure ) six or seven months in. He looked around, head tilting from side to side listlessly, looking for family or a nurse or something.

His attention was caught by his left arm - or, rather, what was left of it, which wasn't much.

Days into his capture they'd started cutting off his fingers, one at a time, and sending him to his mother - to the President - in an attempt to get her to give in to their demands.

Then they'd started working their way up his arm, more as punishment than anything, before infection had set in and they had kept cutting back and back and back in an attempt to keep their bargaining chip from dying.

The stump of his left arm was wrapped in neat cotton bandages and Bucky swallowed hard, lifting his other hand to his lips, feeling them quiver against his fingers.

He finally asked, voice trembling, "Mom?"

She had to be here. She had been there for him his entire life growing up, there every time he got sick, even when she was on the election trail. If she couldn't get to him, they would talk over the internet for as long as it took until he fell asleep.

Bucky looked around, digging his ragged nails into his lower lip. "Mom?" He shifted, trying to sit up, and was instantly caught by the mess of wires and tubing around him. He laid back, blinking back tears.

She came almost at a run, heels clacking, the door swinging shut behind her. "Bucky!" She nearly collapsed onto Bucky's bed, grabbing his hand in both of her own. "You're awake, thank god." She reached forward and ran her fingers through his hair and he was suddenly aware that it was long enough to touch his chin.

He smiled up at her, feeling the knot in his chest ease. Bucky sagged back against his pillows and sighed slightly, letting her rub her thumb over the back of his hand. "I missed you, Mom."

"I missed you, too. Here, are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow?" She let go of his hand and started to fuss with his blankets and pillows, adjusting them around him nervously.

"I'm fine. Tired, but fine." He closed his eyes for a long moment then asked, opening them again, "I'm really here, right?"

She nodded. "You're really here, Bucky." She folded her hand over his. "Get some rest, I'll be right here, okay?" She smiled and watched Bucky drift off again, body falling limp. But it wasn't the same sort of boneless as before, the unconsciousness after being brought in, after all the surgeries. It was the unconsciousness of somebody asleep of their own volition.

She looked up once she was sure Bucky was asleep and stood back up, placing his hand on his stomach. President Barnes crossed back over to the door and pulled it open. "I'm sorry, Captain. Maybe you should come in and we can continue our discussion?" She stepped back.

Bucky drifted awake for just a moment, long enough to see his mother across the room talking to somebody that looked vaguely familiar. Before Bucky could place the face, he was asleep again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

punched_hitler

Captain Steve Rogers had waited outside while the entire exchange took place. He didn't know the details of that particular episode, no, but he had been filled in on everything he needed to know that pertained to the mission. When Director Fury had approached him, saying the President of the United States wanted a personal favor from Captain America… how could he refuse? He'd never met the president - not Roosevelt, and not Barnes. But he'd jumped at the chance to be of use to the woman who was in charge of the country he was sworn to protect. That should be, if nothing else, a very heavily implied part of his duties.

The favor, it had turned out, was guarding the president's son, who - from what he'd been told - clearly needed something above and beyond Secret Servicemen to take care of the job. Now that the door was open and he could see inside, he had to admit… Bucky was probably lucky to be alive. Oh, of course, the story was all over the news, but there weren't a lot of details being released and, given the look of that arm, Steve suddenly thought he might know why. Honestly, it just made him all the more determined to succeed. No one was going to get through him. Even if he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get along with the president's son. All he really knew was what the news reported, and even if that was skewed, some of it had to be truth, didn't it?

Either way, he wasn't backing down from this mission. "Yes, ma'am. It's not a problem, ma'am." He offered a small smile - the president didn't seem like the type he had to keep a serious face around all the time, though he certainly wasn't going to drop protocol - and stepped inside, making sure the door closed behind him. His eyes immediately went to every corner of the room, but it seemed clear. If he was going to be on guard duty, he'd better get in the habit of guarding, 24/7.

This was going to be an interesting assignment.

By the time Steve was inside, the president's son was already out again. He probably needed the rest. Despite the fact that he knew next to nothing about him, Steve felt a protective urge pooling deep in the pit of his stomach. He would make sure that whatever had happened to Bucky, it wouldn't happen again.

From:

make_it_hurt

President Barnes sat on the edge of the bed, taking Bucky's hand again. "Thanks." She stroked her fingers over his hand. "He's eighteen, now. They took him from a friend's party. His Secret Serviceman lost him in the crowd and he was gone in the space of ten minutes."

She looked up at Steve. "I don't want that to happen again, Captain. He's my only child and they took him just like that. They did this to him..." She looked down at him. "They thought, if they tortured him and sent me back his fingers that I would give them what they wanted."

"They're not gone, either. Intel told us that there were ten or so of them, but we only caught four. So you'll need to be on guard for them trying to grab him again."

She brought Bucky's hand up to her lips and kissed his fingers - they were scarred, the knuckles on several swollen like they had been broken and probably had.

Bucky started to stir at that. He blinked and opened his eyes, watching his mother on the bed. He hadn't slept deeply at all, either in too much pain to drift off fully or too aware of what was going on around him, bracing himself for one of them to come in again and beat him either as some way of trying to get compliance (and he had always obeyed their demands) or just because it was fun to them.

"They sent me pictures regularly. I was helpless to get him back, all we could do was wait and find some way to find him. It took eight months. That was eight months too long for me. I don't want him or I to go through that again. Understand, Captain? Whatever you have to do to keep him safe, do it."

Bucky was too tired to talk and just watched, fingers twitching against his mom's hand. He couldn't see who she was talking to, and "Captain" meant nothing but the person she was talking to, apparently his new guard, was military.

From:

punched_hitler

Steve watched the president dote on her son, a faint smile touching her lips. She might be one of the most powerful women in the Free World, but she clearly cared about her family. She reminded him a little of his own mother; he remembered plenty of times - more often than not, really - when she'd tended to him while he was sick or hurt or weakened by a bad asthma attack. To see the president doing the same for her son made him feel even more protective of them both. That kid had been through a hell of a lot, and none of it should have happened. Eight months was long enough to break a hardened soldier, let alone an eighteen year-old boy who probably, he suspected, just wanted to be a boy.

That boy opened his eyes a moment later, but he was focused on his mother, and not Steve standing off to the side of her. That was just as well. He looked like a scared animal, one that was used to beatings, and by the look of it… that was exactly what he was. That wasn't right.

"I understand," he said, eyes flicking between the president and the boy in the bed. "And I won't let it happen again. I'll request what intel we have, maybe I can help find the rest of them." He'd need that information, either way, and if he couldn't get it from the White House, he could get it from Fury. "But your son is my first priority, and he'll stay that way. They won't get through me, I promise you that."

Maybe it wasn't a promise he should make, but how could he not, looking at them like this? "I'm yours starting this second, if you want."

From:

make_it_hurt

She nodded. "I'll make sure you get whatever we have, as soon as we get it. But I want Bucky to be your first concern. I don't want him left alone at all."

Bucky squeezed his hand and coughed a little, trying to get his mother's attention. His throat hurt, the cold stream of oxygen drying out his mouth and throat. "Mom? Drink?"

She turned. "Of course." She smiled down at her son. "Give me just a moment. She stood and President Barnes rested his hand on his stomach. "Captain Rogers here is going to be your new bodyguard. He's going to be going with you everywhere from now own, alright?"

Bucky nodded, his mother's body still blocking the face of the man whose voice sounded so familiar. "Mom, is Corey..." He looked around, hoping to catch sight of his boyfriend.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, he's not. We'll talk about him later, alright? Let me get you something to drink." She started to walk away and Bucky turned his attention to his new guard.

And stopped, staring. He said, weakly, "You're Captain America." He laid back, fingers clenching in the sheets. "Fuck, my childhood hero... seeing me like this..." He looked over at his left arm and shifted, wanting to pull the sheets up over his head and hide though he was too weak and in too much pain.

Edited Date: 2014-06-04 05:12 pm (UTC)

From:

punched_hitler

Steve just let the president care for her son - oh, of course, he'd help the instant he was asked, but he didn't want to disrupt anything between the two of them, either. He just stood to the side, though as President Barnes started to walk away, to get her son something to drink, Bucky's attention turned to him.

Steve had seen that stare many, many times before. He didn't particularly like it - he hated it when he intimidated other people (at least, the ones he didn't want to intimidate) even if he knew it couldn't be helped. He was Captain America, after all. "Yeah," he said, as gently as he could, giving the boy a genuine smile. Though the smile faded a moment later, when Bucky clearly felt bad about something that couldn't be helped. Steve took a step forward, crouching down a little, trying to put himself more on the other's level. "Hey, it's not a big deal. You've been through a lot. I'm sure I'll see you up and around in no time." He put a hand - carefully, very carefully - on the boy's left shoulder - what was left of it. He wanted to show that none of those injuries, not even the worst of them, bothered him for any reason other than they shouldn't have been inflicted. "I've been on your side of things." Maybe not for that reason, but he'd spent plenty of time bedridden. "And I'm here to make sure it won't happen again."

He paused, then tried to smile again. "Since we're going to be working together," he liked putting it that way, like a partnership, maybe that would help, "you can call me Steve." Okay, not really protocol, but he didn't think this boy needed to stand on protocol. Not now.

From:

make_it_hurt

The gentle touch to his left shoulder was unexpected. They hadn't ever touched him except to hurt him and he flinched, body ready for pain, for fingers digging into the stump, forcing on antibiotic ointment and picking at the scabs.

But no pain came, just the touch and Captain America's - Steve's - smiling face looking down at him. Bucky put his right hand on Steve's, curling his fingers around Steve's. He nodded after a few moments. "I'm Bucky..." He felt anxious and desperate with a male hand on him and those broad shoulders, but he was also heavily doped up on painkillers. "I don't... want to be touched, I'm sorry..." The comfort of a hand around his was undeniable, though. The warmth of human touch was welcome. "Maybe later, though," he said with a smile, pushing his thumb into Steve's palm.

Then he stopped. He was flirting. After all that had been done to him, all they had forced on him. He looked away and closed his eyes, dropping Steve's hand. "I'm sorry, I..." He trembled, half-braced for punishment.

From:

punched_hitler

Steve felt bad the instant the boy flinched - of course he'd be expecting something other than comfort, after eight months of what had happened to him. He was about to pull his hand back when Bucky touched it; that made him relax a little, and hope that maybe Bucky could get over what had happened to him, maybe he could put it all behind him, because the last thing Steve wanted for this boy was for him to feel afraid of people for the rest of his life, given what had happened. He had learned a lot about PTSD, since he'd woken up in the 21st century, and although he still didn't understand a lot of it, he knew it could happen to anyone, not just soldiers - and what Bucky had been through was nothing short of traumatic.

"It's nice to meet you, Bucky," he said, glad to see the other man smiling, though maybe it was just the painkillers shining through. It actually took him a minute to realize that Bucky was flirting with him - he had exactly zero experience with males flirting, though plenty of females had tried it. He just... wasn't expecting it, but he could (and probably would) write it off as those same painkillers - especially given the Corey that Bucky had just been asking for. "No, it's - okay," he said, a little haltingly; he did pull his hand back, probably feeling far more embarrassed than Bucky, a slight hint of a blush tinging the bridge of his nose, but he fought it with everything he was worth, because that was absolutely not professional. "Look, you've been through a lot. You're pretty much allowed to say anything you want," he said, trying to offer a smile, though he was still feeling pretty unbalanced. "At least, until you're off those painkillers. Which I hope is soon." But it might not be for some time. "But you have to know, no one is going to hurt you here. You're safe."

From:

make_it_hurt

Bucky nodded and kept his face turned away. His jaw was clenched, unable to keep the fine tremble out of his body.

He was only too happy when his mother returned holding a paper cup with a straw.

"Here." She perched on the edge of the bed and offered the cup. It was warm water and Bucky was only too glad to suck the cup dry, sighing in relief. "I see you two got introduced."

"Mom, where's Corey?"

She sighed. "There's been... evidence that he might have been at least partially responsible for your abduction, either on purpose or accidentally."

Bucky shook his head. "No... No, mom, it's not possible... He wouldn't..."

"Bucky, darling, I wouldn't be telling you, if we weren't sure." She sighed and turned, passing the cup to Steve and placing her hands on either side of Bucky's face.

"I want to see him." Bucky was blinking away tears. "Please, Mom, I need to."

"I'm sorry, I can't let him." There was a beeping noise and she sighed. "They can't leave me alone for twenty minutes, they know you're awake."

She sat back and reached for her phone. "I'm sorry, Bucky, I have to take this."

Bucky nodded, "Okay." He looked away, fingers pushing at his blankets. He looked over at Steve, then closed his eyes. He wanted to have his hand held, have his face touched. He blinked and watched his mom walk to the other side of the room. Fighting back tears, his fingers curled into a fist.

Was he safe? Was it safe here? He thought he had been safe, before. Then they had taken him. He bit his bottom lip. "How do I know I'm safe? What am I going to do if they take me again? What they did to me, Steve..." He refused to open his eyes. "What if they do that to me again? What am I gonna do?"

Edited Date: 2014-06-04 07:03 pm (UTC)

From:

punched_hitler

Steve backed up at little when the president returned, letting her give Bucky the water he needed. He followed the conversation, trying not to let any emotions cross his face, but he was worried. If one of Bucky's friends - close friends, in more ways than one, he was guessing - could have been a part of this... that could be bad. And the fact that Bucky didn't really want to take no for an answer could also be bad, if he tried to contact this Corey. Of course, he wasn't likely to do much just at the moment, but when he recovered...

As the president walked to the other corner of the room, Steve saw the way Bucky's face looked. He glanced around, pulling up a chair to the bedside and sitting down, so at least they could talk a little easier. "You're safe because I'm going to keep you that way," he said, quietly but firmly, trying to catch Bucky's eyes, though they closed a minute later, so he didn't really get the chance. He put a hand on the bed, but he wasn't about to touch Bucky again - only because the boy had said he didn't really want it. "But no one's perfect. Not even me. So... we can teach you how to keep yourself safe. How to handle things until someone can get to you. If you want," he said, haltingly - but it really would be the best way. "That way... nothing like that will happen again. But if it does..." He paused. "Then you're going to do what you did this time. You're going to make it through, because you're strong enough not to let this beat you." Maybe he didn't know that, for a fact, but he suspected it. He wanted to make it true.

From:

make_it_hurt

Bucky nodded. He opened his eyes and looked at Steve through a blur of tears. He reached out, hesitantly touching Steve's hand with his fingertips. Then he flinched away, fingers curling up nervously.

He remembered trying to escape, in those first few days. Remembered slipping his handcuffs, yelling and screaming for help. That had been the first time they had beaten him - a wide belt whipping at his back and his legs, and a few days after that they had taken one of his fingers.

"I don't know if I can do that again." They'd deprived him of light, of noise, of human contact except to hurt him. They'd beaten him and starved him, made him crawl on his hands and knees like an animal. "I think I would rather die."

From:

punched_hitler

Steve had been about to take Bucky's hand when he pulled it away again, making Steve frown, faintly. He could tell Bucky was reliving this thing, over and over in his head, and he wasn't surprised. He had seen so many men wounded, tortured, and worse during the war, and a lot of them had said the same thing. It made his heart ache in a way he just couldn't really put into words.

"The idea is that you won't have to do it again," Steve said gently. "And I know you think you couldn't do it if you had to, but I think you could. But," he said, leaning back a little, to give Bucky some space, "what's important right now is you getting better. I want you to focus on that, okay? Don't think about this happening again. We'll deal with that later. I'm here so that all you have to worry about is getting well, and the rest will follow." Whatever the rest was. "I made your mom a promise, and I'm making it to you. The only way anyone is getting to you through me is if they kill me first - and I'd like to think I'm pretty hard to kill," he said, trying for a lopsided smile. "A lot of people have tried. And I'm still here."

Not that he didn't have his own demons to wrestle with, but that wasn't important right now.

From:

make_it_hurt

That managed to get a tiny smile out of Bucky and he asked, trying to change the subject, "Can I meet Iron Man if I hang out around you long enough?"

He wanted to be distracted, wanted to try and forget about what he had been through. His childhood hero - and, indeed, childhood crush - was sitting in front of him telling Bucky he would die to keep him safe.

Bucky blinked, tears streaking his cheeks, dripping over and off his nose.

From:

punched_hitler

That smile, albeit small, was refreshing. Bucky had a nice smile, Steve thought, even when it was tinged with fear. "You can if you want, but you might regret it," he warned, a teasing tone in his voice. He could get ahold of Stark if he had to, he was sure, and if it would cheer Bucky up, Steve just might call in that favor, offering anything Stark needed in return (which was dangerous in and of itself). But he saw it as his duty not only to keep Bucky safe, but to help him recover from this in any way possible. That would be a small price to pay.

Though it was hard to laugh when Bucky was still crying - oh, not that it was shameful, but Steve had a hard time just watching and not trying to do anything about it. He reached into his belt and pulled out a handkerchief - yep, he was from the 1940s, he still carried a handkerchief and he'd probably never stop - and offered it over to Bucky, almost a little shyly. He didn't want to draw attention to those tears, after all, even if he wanted to help stop them. "Here."