Chapter Text
It’s on an early morning run the first time Clint sees him. Him being the squad leader calling cadence for the herd of Rangers running towards him. Clint gives him a nod as they pass, taking in the snug fit of the white tee shirt across his chest.
After his run, and a shower, he makes his way across Ft. Lewis towards Madigan Medical Center and another fun-filled visit with Dr. Banner. “How’s the arm feeling?” Clint shrugs, his left shoulder rising while the right stays stationary.
“About the same, some tingling in my fingers, an occasional shot up my arm, but that’s about it.” He tugs at the sling; at least when he runs he can wear a sweatshirt over it and the pull the hood up to cover his face.
“Have you been following your PT?” Dr. Banner gives him a look like he knows Clint’s been slacking. “All of your post-surgical PT?”
Clint gives him an easy smile, “Stark is a sadist.”
“That he might be, doesn’t mean it doesn’t help.” He makes a notation on the chart he’s holding. “And the hearing?”
“Huh?” Clint smirks, “there’s still a bunch of noise, but nothing that sounds like anything.” His hand crosses his chest to pull out the cotton stuffing “There’s this pressure like after you go swimming, like if it would just pop it’d be ok.”
“Let’s take a look.” Dr. Banner dons a pair of light blue nitrile gloves while Clint removes the beanie that covers his right ear and a small portion of that side of his face. “The shirt too Sergeant.” Clint rolls his eyes, but removes the sling and wrapping before pulling his shirt off and cradling his right arm with his left.
Dr. Banner’s touch is gentle as he manipulates the mostly healed scarred flesh that stretches from Clint’s right hip to just above his right ear, it stops abruptly where his helmet and helmet liner were worn. “The eye still tearing up?” He shines a penlight and makes Clint blink.
“The eye is good, the reduction on the eyelid helped a lot.” Clint winces when the Doctor tilts his head to the left, the movement forcing the scars on his neck to stretch.
“The PT would help with that.” Banner slides a headlamp over his head and begins the ear exam. Clint can feel an occasional pull as Banner manipulates the ear, but can only hear the constant hum of tinnitus. Banner works his way from the ear to the scars on his face making a dissatisfied noise at the keloid forming near his mouth before moving down to his neck and asking Clint to move his head in every direction. He tisks the keloids forming there as well. “Vertical movement is good, the perpendicular I’m concerned about.” His fingers trail from the neck to his shoulders and Clint hisses. “That hurts?”
“Just sensitive, some spots I don’t feel anything, some are really touchy.”
Banner reaches out to a tray and grabs the Wartenberg Wheel, to Clint it looks like a tiny spur at the end of a stick, but he knows it’s to check his sensation. “Let me know where the dead spots are and anything that’s painful.” He goes over the bumpy and pitted flesh, careful to avoid anything that isn’t completely healed. He makes multiple passes until he’s mapped every inch from neck to wrist. “I think we’re going to have to do a reduction for your hand I’m afraid.”
Clint lets out a shaky breath as Dr. Banner pulls Clint’s curled fingers straight. Clint knows the pain in his fingers, the sensitivity n his arms is a good thing. A sign that his nerves weren’t completely destroyed by a flaming hummer, even still pain is pain. “Any point in fixing ‘em if they’re not going to work?”
Dr. Banner pushes back from the exam bed, his wheeled stool stopping as he makes eye contact with Clint. “It’s going to take some time, some more healing, and a lot. . .I mean a LOT of Physical Therapy, but it’ll happen.”
Clint nods as Banner scoots closer again to finish the exam, checking the painter, pinker scars along his ribs, his back, and his front before turning a critical eye to the burns that still haven’t healed completely. “Are you keeping these covered? Dry? Applying the Silvadene as prescribed?” Clint nods.
“Give this to Stark, it’s important for you to do this.” Banner hands him a sheet for Physical Therapy. “I also want you to see audiology again and come back for a pre-op visit about your hand.” HE begins rewrapping Clint’s arm with the sterile mesh sleeve and sterile wrapping. “Keep using the Silvadene on the wounds, but I want you to start using something on the scars too.” He writes a prescription as Clint tugs on his shirt one-handedly and pulls the black sling over his head before grabbing his right arm and threading it in the pouch.
It’s difficult to put the beanie back on, but Clint makes sure to have it in the place. The right side pulled down to cover as much as he can and his right ear. He wonders if he can still call it that now that all it really is is a hole on the side of his head, the shell melting away to smooth lumps, the scars blending in the with the others around it. He knows better that to ask Dr. Banner, just takes the paperwork and gives him a smile to schedule to the pre-op visit soon.