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

[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.

[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."

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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."

[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?"

[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.

[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."

[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.

[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.

[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."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky's smile widened when he saw the handkerchief and if he didn't laugh, he wanted to. He took it weakly and pressed it to his eyes. "You're definitely from the forties, Steve."

His mother returned, tucking her phone away. "I'm sorry, Bucky, I have to go handle this. The press is getting out of control, they want some sort of statement on what all happened."

"Alright..." Bucky sniffled. "Just me and Steve, then. We'll be fine, right?" He looked up at Steve, trying to pretend that he wasn't still crying.

"Okay. Get some sleep, Bucky." She smiled and kissed him on the forehead then told Steve, "There's a half-dozen federal agents as well as members of the Secret Service outside, men and women I trust deeply. Let them know if you need anything." She gathered up her jacket from the other chair. "Call me if you need anything." She stepped away, obviously hesitant to leave her son so soon after getting him back. "I'll be back tonight."

[punched_hitler]

Steve wouldn't have cared if Bucky had laughed at his expense - as it was, he laughed a little, for him, shrugging with a helpless smile. "I guess I am. Can't help it, really." He was from the forties, and sometimes he expected things to just be a certain way, only to realize he was pretty far behind the times.

He glanced up as the president said she needed to go, nodding confidently when Bucky spoke. "We'll be fine." He ignored those tears, not mentioning them, but the look in his eyes said he understood why they were there.

"Yes, ma'am. Like your son said - we'll be fine." He could imagine she wanted to do nothing but stay, and he couldn't blame her. But she had to go. "If you need to know anything, you will." But he planned on this being a routine afternoon, because he didn't want any more surprises for Bucky or for his mother. "He'll be here when you get back." He said that as much for Bucky as for his mother.

[make_it_hurt]

She nodded and hesitated for another moment, then closed in again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I love you, Bucky."

"I love you too, Mom." He clung to her for a long few moments then let go, knowing that she had to go. Bucky sagged back into his pillows, drawing his hand up to his throat, the handkerchief still clutched in his fingers.

She left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Bucky watched her go then said, "We argued, the night they... She didn't want me to go to the party. I went anyways." He looked up at Steve, "Can I have more water?" At least the tears were slowing.

[punched_hitler]

Steve watched Bucky lay back, trying to offer a comforting smile. "Kids and parents fight," he said softly - okay, he hadn't had parents for much of his life, but he did remember that much. "It doesn't mean you don't love each other." Although he could imagine how awful he'd feel, if the last words he'd ever said to his mom had been in anger.

"You can't change it now," he said, "But you can learn from it. That's all anyone can do." When Bucky asked for more water, he nodded, pushing himself up and grabbing the cup. "Sure." There was water on the other side of the room, which was good because he wouldn't have left the room to get it. He refilled the cup, bringing it back over, trying to reach down and help Bucky sit up so he could sip it without choking.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky nodded. He let Steve help him sit up but clung to him to drink, still not used to not having his left arm to support himself with or use in general. He gulped down the water then was happy to lay back.

"If I sleep... you'll be here when I wake up, right? You wouldn't be gone?" He was afraid of being alone. He didn't want to be isolated anymore. What he would do if Steve was going leave, he didn't know. He also knew, logically, that Steve wouldn't be able to stay with him forever - he was an Avenger and saved people.

[punched_hitler]

Steve didn't mind acting as a stabilizer; he just stayed still so Bucky could use him to stay up and drink until he was finished. He set the cup aside, taking a seat by the bed again, nodding in answer to the question. "I'll be right here. I'm not leaving your side." After all, that was what a bodyguard did - he stayed with his assignment. He'd figure out how they were going to work out other things, like showering and sleeping, later. Steve was a light sleeper, though, so even if he dozed, nothing would get by him. But for now, he was wide awake, and he wasn't leaving this room. He was here for as long as the president needed him - that duty came first, before any loyalty to the Avengers. He was, after all, still an Army officer.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky nodded. He sighed and asked, "Can I have another blanket?" He blinked tiredly and kept ahold of the handkerchief, reluctant to let it go, even to give it back to Steve.

Just then, though, there was a light tapping on the door. One of the agents came in first, a nurse behind him. "Captain Rogers..."

The nurse stepped forward pushing a cart with her, "It's time to change Mr. Barnes's bandages."

Bucky groaned and sagged back. He looked over at Steve. "Guess I don't get to sleep..."

The nurse started pulling back the sheets, her hands quick and professional as she folded them back. Bucky was in a hospital gown and not much else, right ankle in a cast and left wrapped in a tight bandage. there were more bandages around his thighs, and a big mess of gauze around his chest, no doubt where he had been shot at. There were also the deep lacerations on his back from repeated whippings.

On one hand, he cared almost nothing about strangers looking at his body - he hadn't had privacy at all for eight months - but at the same time, he still didn't want people looking at him like this. He turned his face away from all the damage.

Bucky had had daydreams for years and years about Captain America, and now the man himself was going to see Bucky shredded to pieces by knifes and scalpels. Any chance Bucky might ever have would be gone in just a few more short moments.

[punched_hitler]

"Yeah -" Steve was just getting up to get that blanket when the agent and the nurse arrived. Steve smiled sympathetically at Bucky, shrugging a little helplessly. "Maybe this'll help you sleep better," he offered, taking a step back to let the nurse work. His eyes couldn't help but track down Bucky's body, taking in the evidence of what had been done to him. The arm was the most obvious above the sheets, sure, but once the blankets had been pulled back, there was so much more. His expression didn't change, much, but the image before him made his stomach churn - though not for the reason Bucky thought. After all, none of this was Bucky's fault. In fact, if nothing else, all of those injuries were simply a testament to how much he could endure. That made Steve's opinion of him go up, not down.

Steve didn't have much medical experience, but still, he felt the sudden need to ask, "Can I lend a hand?" There was, after all, only one nurse... and a lot of bandages that might need changing.

[make_it_hurt]

The nurse paused to look at Steve then said, "If Mr. Barnes doesn't mind." She looked to him, pulling on a pair of gloves.

Bucky shook his head after a moment. "No, it's fine."

She smiled. "Pull on some gloves then, Captain."

She started with Bucky's ankle, checking the deep cut just above his achilles tendon and making sure the stitches were still in place before re-wrapping his foot.

Bucky closed his eyes. The feeling of hands on him was foreign and unwelcome, as well as a relief. There was no pain, just a soft, slightly rubbery touch of gloves on skin.

He pulled nervously at the hem of his gown as the nurse pushed it up gently to check his thighs. He swallowed and tipped his head back, eyes closing. Her hands were cool and small and professional, but the cuts along the insides of his thighs were deep and had been left by...

He swallowed again, knuckles going white where they were knotted in the thin fabric.

The nurse looked up and saw the obvious fear and distress on Bucky's face. She said, gently, "Let me know if it hurts, okay?"

He nodded, and let her push his legs further apart, dabbing antiseptic on the scratches, touch light but purposeful. He flinched every few moments but didn't protest. Bucky was glad his mother wasn't in here. No doubt she had a list of all of his injuries and these were included, but she would cry and he would cry and live it all over again.

She cleaned both of his legs then asked, "Is it okay if Captain Rogers supports your lower back while I wrap your legs back up?"

Bucky nodded after a few moments, wishing desperately he had two hands - one to hold to the hem of his hospital gown and one to press the handkerchief to his face, to disguise his tears and expression.

[punched_hitler]

It was hard to stay objective when he could see, clearer and clearer, all the damage that had been done. Steve could analyze every wound and figure out, pretty easily, exactly what had made them. But he knew that making any sort of sound or face would only make Bucky feel worse, and he'd seen plenty of bad wounds on a battlefield. The problem was, these hadn't been made on a battlefield. Maybe that was why they seemed so much worse.

Steve had also seen naked men before, and he was sure the nurse had, too. Though he was equally sure Bucky wasn't enjoying the way his gown was riding up as the nurse tended to those terrible-looking cuts on his thighs, either. He bit the inside of his lip, just watching the pain that passed over Bucky's face, and moved when the nurse gave him indirect instructions, asking if he could support Bucky's lower back. He moved to place his hands as gently as possible against Bucky's back, trying to find some part of it that wasn't damaged or in pain. "She's almost done," he murmured quietly, not watching the nurse working, but watching Bucky's face instead. "Then you can get some sleep and I promise, it's gonna feel pretty good."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky nodded, flinching as the gauze padding touched his skin, then the tighter wrap of the bandages. He gasped into Steve's shoulder as she helped him slide his legs back under the sheets.

"Your chest and arm, and then you're done." She smiled and rubbed Bucky's knee through the blankets. It was enough to help Bucky relax and his hand went from his hospital gown to Steve's shoulder, clinging as the nurse urged him to sit up, tucking the blankets around him so she could push down the top part of the gown to work on Bucky's chest.

Sitting upright was bad and he gasped against Steve, his chest aching hard. It was a mess of scar tissue, still pink and soft and scabby on the right side of his chest, just above his diaphragm. His back was scabbed over heavily with lacerations that were each cleaned out before he could be laid back.

Bucky refused to look at his arm as it was unwrapped and instead said to Steve, "I bet this is tons of fun for you." He tried to smile but instead his lips trembled and he kept his fingers tangled in Steve's shirt, not wanting him to get too far away.

[punched_hitler]

Steve hated that Bucky was clearly in so much pain - he'd been broken, badly, but he was also in good hands. He could tell this nurse was good, although he wasn't surprised, given Bucky's mother and her pull. Then again... if Bucky's mother hadn't been the president, would this have ever happened?

Steve knew better than to say something stupid, like, It's all part of the job or Not as much fun for me as it is for you. He knew Bucky was just looking for something else to concentrate on, and he was feeling less and less like this was a job and more and more like protecting this boy's life - giving him something that made him feel safe - was something he couldn't refuse to do. He leaned closer, giving Bucky something solid to hold onto, his hand moving up to support his back as carefully as he could while his eyes tried to catch Bucky's and hold them. "Look at me," he said, gently but firmly. "Just keep your eyes on me. You've got a good nurse, Bucky, and I'll bet you won't feel a thing."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky couldn't look Steve in the eye. He tried then diverted his gaze, too used to being punished for direct eye contact. Still, he curled his arm around Steve's waist and clung to him desperately tightly.

The nurse was indeed quick with the stump of his arm and she said, "I'm done." and stepped back, shucking her gloves off into the hazardous waste bin on top of a mess of bloody, pus-soaked gauze. "You're healing well. Should be able to get you off the oxygen in the next few days, if your lung holds up well and can manage. We'll get you walking as soon as possible though you'll probably be leaving here in a wheelchair. That cut on your left ankle will keep you from walking too far too fast." She smiled and started to write on Bucky's chart.

"How's your pain level?"

Bucky hummed. "I'm sore all over."

"Any sharp pains?" Bucky shook his head. "Alright. Get some rest, then." She smiled and put the chart back down before leaving the hospital room, pulling her cart along behind her.

Bucky sighed and slowly let go of Steve. "Now I'm really ready to sleep."