Closed RP with [Punched-Hitler]

[make_it_hurt]

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.

Comments

[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.