Bucky hobbled to the wheelchair and almost collapsed into it. He grinned up at his mother, dragged his oxygen tank into his lap and said, "Let's go."
He let himself be pushed out of the room and down the hall. There was security all around him, his mother at his side, but Bucky didn't feel safe in the open air of the main hospital.
The outside beyond the lobby wasn't packed with journalists, but the ones brave enough to not be shooed away by federal agents or the hospital security were hanging around, ready with microphones and cameras.
President Barnes sighed. "Let me go see if I can't get them to go away."
"Don't. Everybody wants to make sure I'm actually alive, it's fine." Bucky swallowed hard, though, at just the thought of going out there. He touched his oxygen line.
He looked up at Steve then fisted his hand in his pants. He trusted Steve to keep him safe. "Let's go."
As soon as they were outside, though, even with security keeping back the press, Bucky suddenly couldn't breathe. He fixed a smile on his face and tried to wave to the cameras, but it was hard, almost impossible.
He was only too glad, when they reached the armored car, that one of his other guards basically threw him into the back, never mind that the man had grabbed him by the hips tightly, in a way that only brought up memories Bucky was working hard to forget.
Panting, Bucky waited until the door was closed to collapse against the seat, breathing hard. He was having trouble getting oxygen in even with the line, his chest an anxious knot of panic. He clinged to his mother, glad all over again for the tinted, reflective windows, resting his head on her chest.
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He let himself be pushed out of the room and down the hall. There was security all around him, his mother at his side, but Bucky didn't feel safe in the open air of the main hospital.
The outside beyond the lobby wasn't packed with journalists, but the ones brave enough to not be shooed away by federal agents or the hospital security were hanging around, ready with microphones and cameras.
President Barnes sighed. "Let me go see if I can't get them to go away."
"Don't. Everybody wants to make sure I'm actually alive, it's fine." Bucky swallowed hard, though, at just the thought of going out there. He touched his oxygen line.
He looked up at Steve then fisted his hand in his pants. He trusted Steve to keep him safe. "Let's go."
As soon as they were outside, though, even with security keeping back the press, Bucky suddenly couldn't breathe. He fixed a smile on his face and tried to wave to the cameras, but it was hard, almost impossible.
He was only too glad, when they reached the armored car, that one of his other guards basically threw him into the back, never mind that the man had grabbed him by the hips tightly, in a way that only brought up memories Bucky was working hard to forget.
Panting, Bucky waited until the door was closed to collapse against the seat, breathing hard. He was having trouble getting oxygen in even with the line, his chest an anxious knot of panic. He clinged to his mother, glad all over again for the tinted, reflective windows, resting his head on her chest.