Chapter Text
Steve carefully lay Bucky’s limp body on the bench, cringing at the brilliant bruises he saw. The injuries were ten time worse in person.
He turned to the Howlies, who all stood wide eyed at the door.
“Is there some sort of medical kit here? We need to treat some of these injuries before getting back to base.” He asked, relieved when Jones grabbed a small medical kit and held it out to him.
“We found it in the back of the truck, it looks plenty stocked. What should we do first?” Jones asked, stepping forwards after setting his jaw. Jones was the closes thing they had to a doctor on their team, so Steve was not surprised that he stepped forwards to help.
“I suggest we treat all the minor injuries and burns first, we can get the bar out after that’s all done.” Steve suggested, looking over for Jones opinion. The man looked over Bucky’s injuries, ghosting his hand along his abdomen.
His attention was then focused at the bar, looking at it carefully before swearing.
“What? What’s wrong?” Steve demanded, not liking the paleness of Jones face.
“Somehow it seems like his body has started to heal over the bar.” Jones said softly pointing to where the bar entered the skin. “You can see that the muscles and skin have started to heal around the actual bar. We don’t have the supplies to deal with it. Morita!” He called out to the soldier who was currently behind the wheel, trying to work the radio. “Where’s the closest base that has medical support?”
“Its around three hours away from here, we were suppose to report there after taking down the base. Should we head down there now?” Morita responded, looking back at them.
Steve nodded. “Yes, head there now as fast as we can.” He then turned to the others. “Is the base taken care off?”
Dernier nodded, speaking rapid fire French that Steve just assumed meant that they blew that thing to hell.
Steve turned back to his friend, smoothing out the sweaty hair on his forehead, watching as Jones quickly cleaned the worse of the wounds, looking critically at the long cuts and scars that littered his best friends body.
“What happened in there, Cap?” Dum Dum said softly, taking a seat. Steve looked up at him and then the other expectant looks. They wanted to know what Bucky went through.
Steve wasn’t sure it was his story to share, but he remembered that Bucky wouldn’t share otherwise, but these men deserved to know. They needed to know so that they could take care of Bucky and watch his back. Steve decided eh would rather risk Bucky being pissed off at him than him being dead.
“They were trying to replicate the super soldier serum. I don’t know why or how or exactly what they did to him, but it was bad. Electrocution, pain tolerance, probably things we can’t even imagine.” Steve said softly, trying to block out the images of Bucky spasming on the table, his eyes vacant as they stared at Steve.
“They were in the middle of it when he suddenly just ripped out of his restraints, I didn’t see much because I was taking out the soldiers holding me, but he killed both the doctors. Slit their throats as you saw. He didn’t recognize me, couldn’t speak but he moved like the wind. He moved like he never felt pain in his life, I don’t know if it was the painkillers they pumped into him or if it was something else. He acted like he couldn’t hear or understand us and then you guys came in and you know about as much as me what happened next.”
Then men were all silent, fear for their comrade written in the folds on their skin. Jones finished wrapping the last burn in gauze and looked up at Steve.
“Any reason for how he can move? His spinal chord was injured and now hes moving like it was never hurt at all.”
Steve simply shrugged, not trusting his voice as he remembered what his friend went through.
“Let’s focus on getting back to base.” Falsworth said, clearly trying in vain to calm everyone down like the good brit he was. Steve nodded, but didn’t move from Bucky’s side. None of the men protested.
The ride took way too long in Steve’s opinion. They arrived in under three hours, which was good, but it seemed to take days. Bucky’s breathing was soft and lines of pain were etched in his forehead. Steve wanted to take a finger and smooth them out, release the pain that his best friend must have been going through.
When the truck stopped Steve quickly gathered Bucky’s limp body in his arms, trying his best not to jostle the bar in his shoulder. Morita had ran ahead, screaming for a medic. A stretched was running their way, two grim faced doctors manning it. Steve was reluctant to let his friend go, but knowing it was the only way to get Bucky help he let go.
He watched the doctors run off, and Falsworth restrained Steve from following. “Give them some time to work. You can go bug them tomorrow morning.” He ordered with more authority than Steve thought capable in the British man.
Steve reluctantly nodded, knowing it would b best for Bucky. He hated it more than anything, but Bucky didn’t need little Steve from Brooklyn, he needed Captain America. The man who knew what was best for his teammates. Except this was Bucky, not some random soldier.
Steve let some other soldiers lead him to a bench to deal with a small scrape on his head. The injury wasn’t important, it would heal soon and he didn’t feel it. He just wanted to sleep, but he felt too jumpy to do that. The adrenalin from the fight was still racing through him, and normally the only thing that calmed him down after battles was Bucky talking to him. But he didn’t have that now so he would be pacing for hours before he dropped now.
So that’s what he did. He told the boys he was going to scout and left. He paced the Forrest for hours upon hours until the memory of Bucky screaming was faint in his mind.
The next morning Steve stormed into the Medical tent, demanding to see his friend. The nurse who worked up front was too terrified to respond, although warned him that Bucky was still in rough shape. Steve had prepared himself, spent hours telling himself it was going to loo bad, but it didn’t help. Bucky’s normally tanned skin was pale and bloodless, completely motionless and limp.
They had an IV attached to his arm pumping low grade sedative into him. They had used all the painkillers to cut the damn metal bar out of his shoulder. Steve didn’t want to know how; the mental images were enough.
Steve pulled up a chair and sat next to Bucky, trying hard not to think of the hundreds of time Bucky had taken the seat next to Steve’s sick bed. The role reversal was terrible.
Steve sat by Bucky’s side for hours, the Commandos occasionally joining him, talking softy about the SSR coming to pick them up in around a week. Steve half listened, sometimes joining in the conversation.
He fell asleep around midnight, his head leaning down onto Bucky’s bed. He stayed there for two more days before a strangled whimper woke him up from the darkness, causing him to dart up.
“Bucky?” He whispered, straining his eyes in the darkness to see his friend.
“Stevie?” Bucky whispered back, his voice rough from overuse. “Where a I Stevie? Is this fucking heaven or something? I shouldn’t be in heaven but there’s no way its hell if you’re here.” Bucky said, hi voice soft and confused.
“No Buck. You’re alive. We’re at a camp. The medics saved you, don’t know how your awake so soon. Are you in pain?” He asked, Steve hovering his hands over his friends’ arms.
“I’m a tiny bit sore, my shoulder hurts. Not that bad though.” His friend said, his words already slurring.
“Okay, that’s good. Go to sleep now. You need the energy.” Steve whispered, placing his hand on Bucky’s forehead and smoothing the hair down.
“Don’t wanna sleep ‘teve.” Bucky said, but was soon after breathing heavily again.
Steve leaned back down finally resting his hand ontop of Bucky’s arm. He fell into a fruitless sleep, waking up every few hours to check n his friend.
Morning came and Bucky woke up with it, blinking his eyes against the harsh light.
“Why the fuck is the light so bright.” Bucky muttered, bringing his uninjured arm up to block his face. Steve held back a smile.
“That’s the sun Buck.” HE replied, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair, stretching out sore muscles.
“Screw the sun.” Bucky muttered. “Tell someone to turn it off.”
“Not how it works.” Steve said with a laugh, unable to hold off the smile this time. Grumpy morning Bucky was back. Bucky was back.
“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, waiting for Bucky to look at him.
“Actually pretty fine, shoulder’s a bit sore but otherwise I feel good. When are we moving?” Bucky asked, sitting up. Steve watched him carefully, ready to help if he needed it. But Bucky looked fine, his eyes were bright, he didn’t seem tired, and he looked about as healthy as ever.
“They’re picking us up in two days. You want to go for a walk?” Steve asked, thinking that the cold air would do the man some good.
“God yes, my legs are just begging to be stretched.” Bucky said, carefully getting out of bed. Steve grabbed a hold of his arm, helping him walk towards the door. The nurse started to object, but a glare from Steve quickly shut her up. He didn’t have time to feel bad about it.
Bucky squinted at the morning light as they walked outside. Steve tried to keep him close but after only a minute Bucky was pulling away, walking without help. Steve was baffled at how much better Bucky seemed after only five days. His color was back, he was walking fine, and he didn’t even seem to be in pain.
They wandered down into the forest, not far enough that they couldn’t get back easily, but far enough that they had some privacy. They stood together staring off into the distance for a second.
“How are you really Buck?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at his friend. Bucky’s jaw clenched, but the man didn’t look back at him.
“Fine Steve. No lasting damage.” He said, his eyes hard.
“There is plenty of lasting damage Bucky.” Steve said softly, like he was talking to a wounded and cornered animal because that’s the stance Bucky took. “No one can just recover from torture, especially not what they put you through.”
Bucky turned his head to the side, looking Steve in the eye.
“I don’t remember much. They had me drugged. I am fine. Nothing worse than what happened last time.” Steve had to swallow as Bucky spoke. He was right, Bucky had gone through this all before and emerged strong. Maybe he should just trust him, if he didn’t want to talk he didn’t want to talk.
“Okay Buck. But if you need to talk, we are all here for you.” Steve said softly, not breaking the intense eye contact. Bucky simply nodded and looked away.
Bucky left to go back to the medic tent a few minutes afterwards. He couldn’t stand Steve’s pitying and worried look. The way he stood a little too close, like Bucky was going to break any second.
Bucky decided last minute to head back into the forest, away from Steve and everyone else.
He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t fine. There was a constant edge of panic in his mind, pushing against his walls and threatening to pour over. To send him into a whirlwind of fear and panic. His heart was beating a thousand miles per hour and everything felt wrong. His sin seemed stretched too tightly over his frame, his mind is in a different place and he just needed a little bit of space.
He found a nice little clearing with a fallen log. He quickly checked it over for ants and other bugs, he hates bugs with a passion, before sitting on it.
He took a deep breath, rubbing his slightly sore shoulder, he knew what they did to him. He wasn’t drugged up the whole time like he said to Steve. He was well aware of the steel bar that was in his shoulder a few days ago, but now when he looked it was nothing but a small scar. He shouldn’t have been able to heal that quickly. But he knew why he did.
He knew that the serum was running through his veins, not as good as the one they gave Steve, but still functional. He could feel it rushing throughout him, causing his blood to boil and heart to pound. He wasn’t okay. He was far from okay. He didn’t know what this thing would do, and if it made his mind blank like it had before? Then everyone was in danger, no one would be safe. Not his friends in the commandos, the soldiers that were giving them a pace to stay, not even Steve.
He was a liability now, but he couldn’t force himself to leave. To never share a drink with the boys, to never spend late nights talking to Steve, to leave behind everything he wanted and loved. He couldn’t do it. He should, but he couldn’t.
Bucky barely noticed when Monty sat beside him. He had heard the man coming up, he could hear a lot of things, but still the presence came as a shock.
“Nice to see you up and about.” The Man said with an easy smile. “Missed you over the past few days Sarge. Dum Dum is actually winning at cards and it’s getting to his head.”
Bucky snorted. “Heavens forbid, I’ll have to fix that up pretty soon.” He replied, but his voice was hoarse and lacked his normal energy. If Falsworth noticed he was kind enough to ignore it.
“I won’t ask you how your feeling.” Monty asked after a minute of tense silence. Bucky felt himself tense up, prepared for the lecture about opening up and being truthful. He didn’t want to talk, why couldn’t people understand that. “I know it’s pointless because you’ll lie. And that’s fine You don’t need to talk to anyone if you don’t need to, no matter what Steve says. The only thing you need to do is come back up and play a round of cards with us, have a drink or two and have fun. Okay?”
Bucky looked up at him, trying to judge how true he was being. Monty had somehow managed to say everything he needed to hear. It was funny how the man always knew what to say. Bucky needed normal, and Monty was offering his normal. He wasn’t acting weird like Steve was, but was offering him an out.
Bucky had never loved the man more. “Sure, lets go kick Dum Dum’s ass.” Bucky said with a smile, standing up and offering a hand to pull Monty up.
Steve watched Bucky from a distance, aware that he was mother Henning and Bucky didn’t like it. He couldn’t help it though, he didn’t know how to handle Bucky being the sick one, the breakable one. Steve had long ago accepted the fact that he was going to die, he used to be sick and frail. He wasn’t going to live past 24. Now he was strong, healthy and everything in-between. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that maybe Bucky could die before him.
Bucky had prepared himself for a life without Steve, knew that he would die and would leave Bucky alone. Bucky had been aware and accepted that fact. But Steve hadn’t, Steve didn’t know how to live without Bucky. And this whole thing made Bucky seem so much more human, so much more breakable. Steve didn’t like it.
So he gave Bucky his space, let him stay with the Commandos and fool around with them. Let him heal on his own. Steve patrolled the perimeter all day, making sure no one came close to camp and walking off his frustrations.
When he closed his eyes he could see Bucky tied, up could hear his screams. He relived the horror every night until he couldn’t take it anymore and took a walk. He worked hard everyday to tire himself out enough so he could pass out and endure a dreamless night of sleep. It worked, it wasn’t healthy but it was all he could do to keep the horrors away.
The day before their scheduled evacuation Bucky cornered him down in the forest.
“You’re avoiding me.” Bucky said as a greeting, his arms crossed and face unreadable.
“You needed space.” Steve replied, trying to be nonchalant about it.
“No, I needed my best friend.” Bucky said, causing Steve to stop. It never occurred to him that Bucky would want him around when he was like this. He was going to reply, but Bucky apparently wasn’t done yet. “You know I always want you to be by my side. So what changed?”
Steve was at a loss for words. Bucky had never been this forward towards him.
“I didn’t want to crowd you.” He tried, causing Bucky to roll his eyes. “Okay fine, it was a bad decision. I promise it won’t happen again.” He put on his best puppy dog eyes, hoping Bucky would melt like always.
“I’ll accept your apology if you help me convince the ladies at the medical tent to let me have a drink, cards isn’t fun without it.” Bucky said with an easy smile. Steve knew what he meant, it was Bucky’s way of giving a chance to change. To stop his bullshit and make everything okay again.
So Steve smiled and went to try and convince the medics to let Bucky have some whiskey.
Nothing was okay, far from it. Bucky was still hurting, Steve was still worried, and Hydra was still out there wrecking havoc. But for now a truce was made, what Steve saw would never be spoken about again, and they would be fine. As fine as they could be as two broken men searching for happiness in each other. They were fine.
At least they would until the order to capture Zola came in and they went out into the swirling snow, and well, you know what happens next.