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Chapter Text

Dr. Raynor looked sternly at the patient who was glaring at her from across the room. She had been pleasantly surprised a few months ago when James “Bucky” Barnes had resumed his visits with her. After the excitement of taking down the Flag Smashers had worn off, he had found that settling back into everyday life was more difficult than he had anticipated. Dark thoughts have a way of rearing their heads during times of relative calm. Dr. Raynor was grateful that he had the self-awareness to realize that he needed help and that he had reached out to her. Unfortunately, formally documenting his ongoing mental health concerns had triggered reinstatement of the therapy requirement as a condition of his pardon. This was infuriating to her- leave it to government bureaucrats to make things more difficult. She did not understand the rationale for punishing someone for doing the right thing. She was proud of how he was coping though. Although he was disgruntled that therapy was once again being forced upon him- therapy that he had willingly initiated- he had generally been cooperative and willing to follow her care plan. They had been making good progress recently. However, today he seemed to have slipped back into the old sullen glares, petulant silence, and one-word answers that were the norm when he initially began seeing her.

“Come on James, that was an easy question,” she said. “I asked how your week has been going.”

“Fine.”

“That’s all? Fine? Care to elaborate a little?”

“No.”

Dr. Raynor took a deep breath and exaggerated the motion of opening her notebook and uncapping her pen. She knew that Bucky hated her taking notes in front of him, but sometimes a little irritation can motivate a patient to talk. However, this time her ploy was unsuccessful. After several moments of pretending to ignore him, she looked over at the man sitting across the room from her. He was still glaring at her, but his gaze lacked the defiance and intensity that she knew he was capable of. Instead, he just looked exhausted. She then noted his pallid complexion and the dark shadows under his eyes. As she watched, she could see his shoulders rise slightly with the effort of each breath.

“James, are you feeling ok?”

“I’m fi—” His answer was cut off by a painful sounding coughing fit that left him gasping for air.

Dr. Raynor eyed him critically, “You are clearly not fine.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It sure doesn’t sound like nothing. Have you seen a doc—"

“Absolutely not!”

The sudden sharpness in his tone was a change from Bucky’s typical quiet demeanor. Dr. Raynor was initially startled. Then a wave of understanding hit her she realized her patient’s history of torture at the hands of HYDRA doctors. Of course, he would have baggage from that.

“James, you need to understand that things are different now. Doctors are here to help you. You must know that on some level too. Afterall, you come to see me every week.”

“Don’t really have a choice about that,” he grumbled.

Dr. Raynor did her best to hide her smirk at Bucky’s retort. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Look, it’s been quite awhile since I studied human physiology in medical school, but I remember enough to be able to know that that it’s not a good thing that I can hear you wheezing from across the room. I can also see that you are using extra muscles to breathe. People who are ‘just fine’ don’t do that.”

Bucky looked away from her and seemed to have become engrossed with picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket.

Dr. Raynor tried unsuccessfully to hide her exasperation as she spoke, “James Barnes, I have put way too much effort into getting you mentally healthy to allow you to slowly drown yourself in your own snot. You need to take care of yourself, and that includes seeking medical attention when you’re sick.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

Dr. Raynor rose from her chair, walked over to her desk and selected a small card from the letter holder. “Here,” she said, offering it to Bucky, “this Dr. Williams’ business card. Her office is on the fifth floor of this building. She is an excellent physician and one of my good friends. You should consider making an appointment.”

Bucky silently shoved the card into his pocket.

“It is clear that you are in no shape to accomplish anything this morning,” Dr. Raynor continued, “I want you to go home and get some rest. It also would be a good idea to have a friend check in on you; have you spoken to Sam lately?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Don't know… Just don’t want to bother him, I guess.”

The doctor took a deep breath. “James, I thought we had settled this. You need a good support system. Sam has shown his willingness to be there for you, but it’s up to you to accept it.“
Bucky attempted to glare at her before dissolving into another coughing fit.

“So, let’s call it a day,” the doctor continued, “I have an opening Wednesday morning- I’ll put you on the schedule for then. That will give you the rest of today and tomorrow to get well. Schedule an appointment with Dr. Williams if things aren’t improving.”

James nodded and slowly rose to his feet. “See you in a couple days, Doc.”

“And James?” Dr. Raynor stopped him as he reached the door, “you have my number- you can always call me if you need to.” She watched him make his way out of the office and tried to ignore the nagging feeling of concern in her gut.

Chapter Text

Bucky fumbled with the keys to his apartment. His fingers did not want to cooperate, and the effort was proving more strenuous than he had anticipated. He felt his energy slowly but steadily depleting with every movement. Eventually, he managed to shimmy the key into the lock and open the door. He stumbled through the entryway and shouldered the door closed behind him, flinching at the harsh bang as it slammed against the frame. Once safely inside, he allowed himself to succumb to exhaustion, sliding to the ground. He leaned back, resting his pounding head against the door, and closed his eyes. His muscles ached and he could feel the beads of sweat prickling his top lip and forehead…  He really did feel awful. If he was honest, he hadn’t been feeling great for the past week. He had been doing his best to ignore his symptoms and carry on with life, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with the charade.

He must have fallen asleep against the door because the next thing Bucky noticed was his dry throat and the red-orange glow of the evening sun through the window. He dragged himself to his feet, ignoring his screaming muscles and made his way to the kitchen of his small apartment. The few steps from his front door to the kitchen sink felt like ten miles as he paused to catch his breath, gripping the countertop for support. He coughed, gagged, and spat a gob of something vile into the sink. Shuddering, he moved to the refrigerator and peered inside.  The harsh light of the interior of the fridge illuminated the selection within: a couple slices of nearly-fossilized pizza, some leftover sushi from a few days ago, a carton of orange juice, and two bottles of beer. Bucky’s stomach turned. Although he normally wasn’t above eating leftovers of dubious quality, it just didn’t seem like a good idea today. He grabbed the carton of orange juice and took a swig directly from the container. The cool liquid felt good on his throat, but exhaustion was creeping over him again. Navigating the distance to his bedroom seemed like an impossible feat. He was grateful that he had slept of the floor the previous night; the blankets and pillows were still in a disheveled pile by the sofa. He crawled into his makeshift bed, taking comfort in the unwavering support of the hard floor beneath him. Soon, he had drifted to sleep.

***

When Bucky opened his eyes, the room was dark. The unyielding floor had ceased to be soothing and was now creating painful pressure points on his hip and shoulder. As he dragged himself to a seated position, the room spun for a moment before settling into stillness.  It was then that he became aware of the heat.  In fact, he was almost certain that something was on fire inside his chest. He could feel the searing burn with each breath that he took. Groaning, he forced himself to his feet and stripped to his underwear, dully noting that his clothes were damp with sweat.

As he tossed his clothes onto the sofa beside him, a slip of paper fell out of his jacket pocket. It was Dr. Williams’ business card. Perhaps it’s a sign from the universe, Bucky thought to himself. He then decided that the universe didn’t know what it was talking about. Even before HYDRA, visiting the doctor was never a good time. Although he was fairly healthy growing up, he still remembered making a few visits to Dr. Huber’s cramped office above the market. No matter his ailment, it seemed as if those encounters always ended in one of two ways- getting stabbed in the backside with a needle or being given a large amber bottle containing a week’s worth of elixir that tasted like rotten eggs. The later was especially unpleasant, as it generally lead to him spending that next week becoming well-acquainted with the business end of his mother’s wooden spoon for trying to spit out the revolting medicine. Yes, visiting the doctor was a literal pain in the ass, he decided. His super-soldier serum would take care of whatever his current issue was. He tossed Dr. Williams’ card in the trash and proceeded down the hall to his bedroom. He flopped down on the soft mattress and immediately fell back to sleep.

***

The next day was a montage of suffering. Bucky alternated between shivering with chattering teeth under a mound of blankets, and flinging the covers away when he felt as if he might spontaneously combust. Throughout it all, he was plagued by a persistent cough that tore at his lungs and left him fighting for air. After a brief trip to the bathroom left his heart racing painfully in his chest, he felt the tendrils of fear begin to creep in. He was really sick. Maybe he should call Sam… Sam would know what to do. He even got as far as dialing his friend’s number and letting it ring once before quickly hanging up. It was a silly idea to call, he decided. Sam was all the way in DC attending to important hero stuff. It wasn’t fair to waste Captain America’s time whining about a little fever.

A few minutes later, Bucky’s phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, he saw a text message from Sam.

‘Hey, what’s up? Looks like I missed your call.’

Bucky briefly considered telling Sam what was going on, but instead he found himself typing, ‘Pocket dial, sorry.’  He felt a twinge of guilt as he pressed ‘send’ but couldn’t bring himself to disrupt Sam’s life with his own issues. Besides, the serum should be kicking in soon, he told himself. He would probably feel better in the morning...  

***

He did not feel better in the morning. Bucky woke up to a pounding head and queasy stomach. His chest still hurt, and he was momentarily overwhelmed with dizziness when he sat up in bed. He was debating whether to spend the day in bed or on the couch when his phone buzzed from the bedside table. Groaning, he reached to grab it. Looking at the screen, he saw a reminder for his appointment with Dr. Raynor that morning. Cursing under his breath, he heaved himself out of bed and threw on some clothes.

Chapter Text

Bucky was grateful that the Psychiatry and Behavioral Health department was near the entrance to the outpatient wing of the Veterans Affairs Medical Center. He didn’t have the energy to traverse the massive complex of hospital buildings. Even still, the short trip to Dr. Raynor’s office left him dizzy, sweaty, and winded.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Dr. Raynor’s secretary, Melanie, chirped at him. Bucky found her bubbly, excessively enthusiastic demeanor grating under normal circumstances. Today, it was all he could do to hold back the biting retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he just nodded to her and slumped into a chair in the waiting room, trying to catch his breath. He must have looked nearly as awful as he felt because Melanie’s smile faltered as she said, “Dr. Raynor will be with you in just a moment.”

Bucky was still sweaty and out of breath when he was called in for his appointment ten minutes later. Dr. Raynor took one look at him as he stumbled through her office door and gasped, “Sweet Jesus, James! What in the fresh hell?... You look terrible. You were supposed to rest and get better!”

“Good morning to you too.”

“James, I have to say, I’m pretty concerned about you right now. You’re pale, sweaty, and look like utter shit... Did you make an appointment to see Dr. Williams?”

“Didn’t need to,” Bucky said tiredly, sinking onto the couch.

“Why the hell not?!”

“The serum will take care of it. I’ll be fine in a day or so.”

“Something tells me that if this was an issue that the serum could fix, you’d be getting better- not worse.” Dr. Raynor let out a slightly exasperated sigh, “Well it looks like you’ve bought yourself a ticket to the ER. Come on, I’ll walk you down there.”

What little color that was left drained from Bucky’s face. His eyes grew wide and filled with terror, “No! I can’t go there! Don’t make me… I can’t! I—” His breath was coming in quick wheezy gasps and Dr. Raynor noted a concerning blueish tinge forming around his lips.  “Can’t. breathe,” he wheezed.

Bucky attempted to scramble from the couch, but his trembling muscles and a coughing fit had him collapsing back into the cushions. His head lolled between his knees as he continued to pant, wheeze, and cough.

“James! You have to calm down and breathe,” the doctor said. “You’re panicking and your body isn’t getting enough oxygen.” Her voice projected a calm authority as she came to squat down in front of him. “James, I need you to look at me.”  He lifted his chin and regarded her with shining blue eyes. “Breathe with me now,” Dr. Raynor commanded.  “In… Out…”

Bucky attempted to match her breathing and after a few minutes his respiratory rate had settled into something closer to normal. Dr. Raynor noted with relief that blue discoloration around his mouth had faded, and his skin had returned to its previous sickly pallor.

As she coached Bucky through his panic attack, Dr. Raynor began to reconsider the wisdom in sending him to the ER. Whenever she consulted on patients there, she felt like she had been transported to a war zone. The frenetic energy of the place was enough to set her own nerves on edge. There was no way Bucky would tolerate the screaming, shouting chaos that was a normal day in the Emergency Department.  Although he undeniably needed medical attention, treating him would require a more nuanced approach.   

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I will let you avoid the ER on one condition. I am going to call up to the Internal Medicine office and get you on Dr. Williams’ schedule for today. You will cooperate and allow her to help you.”

Bucky's voice was almost a whisper, “Please don’t make me do this.”

“James, I’m not trying to upset you, but it is my job to keep you safe.” She paused a minute, “Do you remember rule number two?”

Bucky slumped back into the couch cushions and rolled his eyes. “Of course. ‘Nobody gets hurt’… what’s your point, Doc?”

“Well, doctors are also required to follow rule number two. It’s even in the oath of our profession.”

“Okay… So what?”

“So, it means that I would be neglecting my duty as a medical professional if I allowed you to hurt yourself by continuing to ignore your illness. It also means that no other doctor here will harm you either. It’s against the rules. The monsters with HYDRA who hurt you were just that- monsters.”

Bucky gave a small nod as tears quietly flowed down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, James, I wouldn’t force the issue if I didn’t think it was important. However, it would be unethical for me to ignore my concerns right now. Please, just humor me and let Dr. Williams take a quick look at you. If she says you’re OK, I’ll drop the subject.”

Bucky sniffed and eyed her warily. After a few moments of silence, he reluctantly agreed.

Dr. Raynor was relieved that she had finally gotten through to him. Immediately she sprang into action, not giving him the opportunity to change his mind. She called over her shoulder as she walked to the door, “Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to make some phone calls. You are going to lie down until I get back.”

The throw pillow on the couch did look like a pretty inviting place to rest his head. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to protest, so he flopped sideways, drawing his feet up to rest on the seat of the couch. He felt a little bit guilty for putting his dirty shoes on the furniture, but Dr. Raynor didn’t seem to mind. She paused in the doorway to ensure that he was actually resting as she had instructed, then made her exit, closing the door quietly behind her.

As soon as the door closed, Bucky could hear the doctor talking to Melanie. He strained to listen in on their muffled conversation, but could only make out bits and pieces.

“Melanie, can you…dial up to…Internal Medicine…doctor…schedule?”

“… Mr. Barnes….going to be alright?”

“…I’m worried about him…”

After a bit of eavesdropping, the effort proved to be too taxing for Bucky to continue.  As his eyelids slipped shut, he was only vaguely aware when the office door opened again. Shortly afterwards, a blanket was being draped over him and a cool hand briefly touched his forehead, followed by the quiet exclamation, ‘Dammit James, you don’t do anything halfway do you?!’.

Chapter Text

Marissa Williams was enjoying a cup of coffee at her desk. She had completed morning rounds on her hospitalized patients and was now enjoying a few moments to herself before starting her office appointments. This was her favorite time of the day, her half hour of solitude to relax and collect her thoughts before the official start of her workday. She sipped the hot beverage as she powered on her computer and pulled up her appointment list— full. It would be a busy day… The ringing of her office phone interrupted her thoughts.

“This is Dr. Williams; how may I help you?”

“Marissa! Could you do me a huge favor?” the voice of her friend, Christina Raynor, came through the line.

“Depends on the favor.”

“I have a patient here in my office who isn’t feeling well; I’m hoping to keep him away from the craziness that is the ER. Do you think you could squeeze him onto your schedule today?”

Dr. Williams was poised to say that she already had a full load of patients for the day, but she felt her heart break a little as her friend went on to describe her patient’s background and his resulting medical anxiety. Although the last thing she wanted was more work to do, she heard herself telling Dr. Raynor that she would come down to the Behavioral Health department in a few minutes to evaluate the patient before starting her appointments for the day.

***

“James?”

Bucky awakened with a start to a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dr. Raynor’s concerned face peered down at him.

“This is Dr. Williams. She was nice enough to come down here to see you,” she continued.

Bucky turned his head slightly and was able to see a tall woman with dark curly hair standing behind Dr. Raynor. Her face was kind, but Bucky still felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. For a moment, his vision blurred and instead of Dr. Williams’ gentle smile, he saw Arnim Zola’s leering grin. His mind clouded with terror; he wanted to run but his body felt frozen in place.   

Dr. Raynor watched as Bucky’s breathing quickened and became erratic. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He was quickly headed towards another full-blown panic attack.

“James, I need you to try and slow your breathing,” Dr. Raynor’s voice drew Bucky’s attention back to the present. “Let’s do the ‘five senses exercise’. We’ve done that one before, remember? You’re going to tell me five things you can see, four that you can feel, three things you can hear, two that you can smell, and one that you can taste. Ok? First, I want you to name five things you can see.”

Bucky looked around the room. “The window.”

“Good. What else?”

“The little holes in the ceiling tiles.”

“Ok.”

“The stupid trees on the wall.”

“That’s three.”

“Why tree wallpaper anyway?”

Dr. Raynor was a bit surprised by this digression. “Well, I suppose whoever designed the office thought it would be soothing.”

“Well, whoever designed the office was an idiot. Do you know how many dangerous things lurk in the forest?”

They had gotten off-track from the exercise, but Bucky looked significantly calmer. “Ok. James, is it alright if Dr. Williams takes a look at you?” 

Bucky sighed and nodded slightly. He then looked up at Dr. Raynor, “Will you be here too?” he asked softly.

“That’s up to you.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but she felt his too-warm hand reach for hers. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze as she sat on the edge of the couch near his head, and then nodded to Dr. Williams.

“Hello, James,” Dr. Williams said as she came closer, resting a large bag at her feet. Her voice was soft and calm. “It’s nice to meet you. I know this is scary, but my only goal is to get you feeling better.” As Bucky regarded her with fever-bright eyes, the doctor continued, “I just want to check your vital signs and listen to your heart and lungs. Nothing is going to hurt, and you have complete control here. I will explain everything and won’t do anything unless you say it’s okay. Is that a deal?”

A small nod.

“Ok. First, can you tell me what kind of symptoms you have been experiencing?”

“Chest hurts, head hurts… just don’t feel good,” Bucky said quietly.

“How long has that been going on?”

“Don’t know… Awhile… Maybe a week or so.” Bucky flinched as he heard Dr. Raynor quietly exclaim, ‘Dammit, James!’ under her breath.

“Alright," Dr. Williams continued, ignoring her friend’s outburst, “Do you think your symptoms are getting better, worse, or about the same?”

“Worse,” Bucky admitted, hanging his head.

“OK. I’m going to do my best to fix that for you.” She reached into the bag at her feet and pulled out a tympanic thermometer. “Let’s get your temperature.” Bucky jumped in surprise when the instrument beeped in his ear a moment later. Immediately afterwards, he felt Dr. Raynor give his hand another reassuring squeeze. He had forgotten that he was still holding her hand. Although he felt a little embarrassed, he did not make any effort to let go.

“103.6. No wonder you’re feeling lousy. Let’s get your blood pressure.”

Dr. Raynor released Bucky’s hand so that Dr. Williams could do her work. At the loss of contact, Bucky felt fear rising in his chest again. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing as the blood pressure cuff tightened around his arm. Just as he was about to lose himself to panic, the band loosened, and he heard the rip of Velcro as Dr. Williams removed the instrument from his arm. He opened his eyes to see Dr. Williams slide what looked like a clothespin on his finger. She must have seen his look of confusion because she explained, “This is a pulse oximeter. It checks the amount of oxygen in your blood.” As she saw Bucky’s eye widen in horror, she quickly added, “It’s completely painless. No actual blood involved.”  The machine beeped for a few seconds and the number 90 flashed on the screen.  Bucky saw Dr. Williams shoot Dr. Raynor a concerned look as she withdrew the device from his finger. The moment was fleeting and soon Dr. Williams was giving Bucky an encouraging smile. “You’re doing great so far. Now I need to listen to your heart and lungs.” She lifted the hem of his shirt, and he felt nip of the air on his bare skin. As the doctor moved the cold metal of her stethoscope against his chest, he shivered involuntarily. “Take a few deep breaths for me,” she instructed. Bucky tried unsuccessfully to read the doctor’s expression as she moved the instrument over his skin. Was that a look of concern, or was she just thinking?

 After a few minutes, Dr. Williams lifted the stethoscope from Bucky’s chest. He felt the warmth return to his body as the doctor slid his shirt back in place. “Thank you for being so cooperative, James. I can see you really aren’t feeling well but I am not certain of the reason just yet. I would like to check a few more things if that’s alright with you.”

Bucky regarded her warily but did not dissent. Dr. Williams took that as a positive sign and excused herself from the room, stating that she needed to make some arrangements.

***

Dr. Raynor followed her friend into the empty lobby. Once the door had closed firmly behind them, Dr. Williams allowed her professional demeanor to drop. “What the actual fuck, Christina! When you told me that you had a patient that you were trying to keep out of the ER, I thought it would be a quick exam and prescription… This guy’s a mess.”

The psychiatrist pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded grimly. “I suspected as much. What are we dealing with?”

“He’s hypotensive and tachycardic- I’m not sure if it’s from dehydration or sepsis- probably both! Then we have the hypoxemia and the fact that his lungs sound like absolute crap.”

Dr. Raynor made a displeased sound under her breath as Dr. Williams continued, “You do realize that this can’t be managed outpatient, right? And from what you’ve told me, I suspect that he’s not going to agree to being admitted to the hospital… You need to think about putting him on an involuntary hold.”

Dr. Raynor frowned. She knew her friend was right, Bucky belonged in the hospital. However, forcing him there against his will would be devastating to his mental health and destroy any sense of trust he had in her. “I’ll convince him to agree to the admission,” Dr. Raynor said with confidence she didn’t have, “but give me to the end of the day.”

“We can’t leave him like that for another eight hours!  He needs IV hydration, labs, imaging—”

“I’m not suggesting that we do nothing. I’ve already gotten him to agree that he will cooperate with treatment in your office. Can you at least get things started there?”

Dr. Williams looked unconvinced, but she nodded, “If this goes to shit, I’m blaming you, Christina!”

Dr. Raynor smiled, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Fine. Get him upstairs to my office.”

Chapter Text

Bucky was rather displeased with the turn of events which found him sitting on an exam table in the Internal Medicine department.  Although he had tried to protest, Dr. Raynor had firmly reminded him that he had agreed to cooperate with Dr. Williams’ plan of care. Apparently, ‘cooperation’ meant that he had to trade the relative comfort of Dr. Raynor’s couch for the cold impersonality of an exam room. The paper on the exam table crinkled annoyingly underneath him as he looked around the windowless chamber. There was a painting on the wall facing him, an abstract piece with a color palette of cream and grey; it did nothing to provide warmth or interest to the room.  Worst of all, he was alone. Dr. Raynor had left him to attend to her other patients. Her promise to come back to check on him during her lunch break was insufficient in soothing Bucky’s frazzled nerves.

As Bucky sat alone feeling very sorry for himself, his mind began to race. Although Dr. Williams had been kind to him thus far, he felt the queasiness of anxiety as he began to imagine what could be in store for him. He tried to calm himself with the exercise Dr. Raynor had suggested earlier. He looked around the room. He took note of the plain white floor— boring. The fluorescent light in the ceiling— not unlike an interrogation room. The cupboards— probably filled with sharp instruments. The door—perhaps he could escape through it. He sat for a moment trying to remember which sense came next in the exercise. After a brief internal debate, he opted to go with hearing. He listened and heard doors opening and closing outside his room, the hushed voices and footsteps of the office personnel, and a telephone ringing— Too many people… he probably wouldn’t get far if he were to run. He felt the racing of his heart, pounding in head, and the anxiety in the pit of his stomach… He decided to give up on the exercise as his breath hitched in his chest, and he began to cough violently. He groaned as his lungs felt like they were being squeezed by an industrial vice grip. After several minutes, the worst of the episode had passed, and he lay back on the exam table, resigned to his fate.

***

Bonnie Powell had been a nurse for over 40 years. Now, well into her 60’s, she had traded the majority of her clinical work for managing Dr. Williams’ office. She was now in charge of inventory, setting schedules, and mentoring the younger nurses. Her sunny disposition and unwavering compassion made her popular among the office staff, who affectionately referred to her as their ‘work mom’.  Plus, she could always be counted on to step in and take care of patients when the office got busy, or if there was a difficult case where her experience would be helpful. She was therefore, not surprised when Dr. Williams asked her to help with an anxious patient with a ‘complicated history’ that morning. She hummed to herself as she gathered her supplies onto a cart and headed to the room.

Bonnie knocked softly on the door and opened it. She regarded the man lying quietly on the table. His left arm, which he held flopped over his eyes, appeared to be a metal prosthesis. It took him a moment to register her presence, then he scampered to a seated position, eyes wide and fearful. She noted the pink flush of fever coloring his cheeks and the labored rise and fall of his chest as he took quick, shallow breaths. She smiled merrily at him, “Hi there, you must be Mr. Barnes.”

 “Bucky,” his voice was so quiet that Bonnie had to strain to hear him, “you can call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” Bonnie replied, “nice to meet you. I’m Bonnie and I’ll be your nurse today. Don’t look so scared; I’m pretty harmless. Dr. Williams asked me to get you settled in and she’ll come to see you in a bit.”

“Sorry, it’s not you. I-it’s just that medical stuff brings up bad memories,” Bucky said, looking at the ground.

“I know it can be a little scary here. But I’m going to take good care of you. You just let me know if you need anything. Now, let’s check you out, huh,” she popped a plastic shield on a thermometer and approached him.

“I’ve already done this,” Bucky griped.

“I know, but I have to record your vitals in your chart; you know, to make everything official.”

 Bucky sighed and allowed Bonnie to do her work. He sat sulkily as she recorded his temperature, scowling when the thermometer beeped in his ear. Next was blood pressure, respiration rate, and pulse. Once she had finished, he watched nervously as she opened a drawer of her cart and began laying items on the top: a thick blue strip of elastic, assorted vials, alcohol wipes…

“W-what’s that for?”

“You’re pretty dehydrated, sweetie. Dr. Williams asked me to get you started on some IV fluids. I’m going to place your IV and I’ll also draw a little blood at the same time.” Bucky swallowed hard and nodded. He felt his heart racing again, but tried to focus on Bonnie’s cheerful voice. She reached behind him and lifted the head of the exam table slightly. “Why don't you lie down for this, we don’t want you getting dizzy. It seems like it’s always you big, strong guys that like to faint on me.” Bucky lay back onto the table, willing himself to stay calm. His heart thudded against his ribcage as Bonnie tied the tourniquet tightly around his right arm. The elastic bit into his skin sparking memories of being strapped to a metal table, a tourniquet blocking the blood flow to what remained of his left arm.  He tried to count the ceiling tiles as he felt something cold and wet swab the inside of his elbow.

“Ok. Big pinch,” Bonnie warned.

 The pain of the needle was fleeting and when Bucky rolled his head to look, he saw that Bonnie was already applying tape to secure the IV to his skin. Then, with deft movements, she began filling tubes with blood. Bucky watched, mildly curious at first. However, after the third tube, he began to feel queasy and restless. Bonnie must have sensed his discomfort because she smiled at him, “I’m not taking it all, I promise. It looks like a lot of blood, but your body will replace it before you know it.”

Bucky tried to respond, but his vision blurred, and nausea overwhelmed him. Before he realized what was happening, he felt bile rising in his throat, and then a warm wetness on the front of his shirt as his stomach rebelled against him. He tried to take a breath, but found himself choking as he inhaled stomach acid. His entire chest felt like it was on fire. He gagged again, vomit forcing its way from his nose. Tears streamed down Bucky’s face.

“You’re ok. Breathe, honey, you’ve got to relax,” Bonnie reassured him as she quickly finished collecting the blood. She helped Bucky sit up and began rubbing large circles on his back as his body fought with itself to breathe, vomit, and cry at the same time. After a few minutes of struggle, he stopped gagging and flopped back against the table, completely spent. Bonnie moved to the sink to wet a washcloth and returned to wipe the residue of vomit and tears from Bucky’s face.

“Well, at least I didn’t faint,” he said wryly, sniffling a little and wiping his eyes.

Bonnie grinned, “You sure didn’t, and boy I am grateful for that. I once had a guy pass out cold and fall right off the table. He ended up needing stiches in his head. That was a real mess!... Now let’s get you into some clean clothes.” She helped him out of his soiled shirt and her breath caught for a moment when she saw the deep scars extending from his left shoulder to his chest. She couldn’t imagine what could have caused those injuries, but it must have been traumatic. No wonder the poor man was so nervous. She quickly composed herself and resumed her good-natured chatter as she helped him into a hospital gown. “The doctor ordered some ibuprofen for your fever, but I’m not sure that’s going to stay down. I’ll see if she’ll order you some Zofran first. That’ll settle your stomach.” Bucky nodded, not really listening.  The air felt thick in his lungs; and his pounding head, burning chest, and rollicking stomach were all competing for attention. He just felt sick. All he wanted right now, was to sleep. Bonnie finished fastening the gown at the back of his neck as he slumped backwards. “Alright now, you just rest. I’m going to get your fluids running and then I’ll go get your meds.”

Bucky watched listlessly as Bonnie busied her herself hanging a bag of saline and hooking it up to the IV in his arm. He felt the chilly flow of the fluid as it traveled up his arm and into his body. The sensation was slightly disconcerting, but seemed to abate after a few minutes. His eyelids drifted shut for a little while and he didn’t notice that Dr. Williams had entered the room until he heard her and Bonnie talking in hushed voices nearby.

“How’s he doing?”

“I just got his fluids running and sent his labs, but he’s been vomiting and he’s pretty wheezy too.”

“You can give him 8 milligrams of Zofran. Let’s try an albuterol neb too, that might help a little with his breathing. I’ll put in the orders into the computer in just a minute.”

Dr. Williams turned and gently touched Bucky’s shoulder. “Hello, James. Thanks for coming to see me- I know my table isn’t as comfy as Dr. Raynor’s couch. Do you mind if I take another listen to you?” Bucky nodded tiredly. The doctor had him sit up as she put her stethoscope to his back. Bucky felt his lungs scream with each deep breath she instructed him to take. After a few agonizing moments, she allowed him to lay back down. “You’re wheezing, James. We’re going to give you some medicine to help with that. I would also like to get an x-ray of your chest to further evaluate your lungs.”

Before Bucky could fully process what the doctor had told him, Bonnie came over and attached a plastic tube to a small spigot on the wall. As she twisted a dial, Bucky was alarmed when something hissed and crackled in Bonnie’s hand. Looking closer, he realized that she was holding a mask. A mask that was spewing a foggy gas.

“Ok, sweetheart, this goes over your nose and mouth. Just breathe normally.” Bucky felt dread in the pit of his stomach as the mask came closer. He wanted to push it away and tell her to stop, but he did not have the energy to fight. He felt defeated as he allowed the mask to be affixed to his face.

Bonnie noticed the change in her patient’s demeanor as soon as she put the mask on him. The sadness and resignation in his eyes gave her pause. She quickly removed the mask.

“What’s the matter, Bucky?”

“The mask… I don’t know… They used to make me wear… It’s just not—” Bucky tried to give a coherent explanation.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to wear the mask if it is upsetting you. The important thing is for you to breathe in the medicine. How about if I just hold it in front of you?”

Bucky tried to stay calm as Bonnie held the steaming mask by his face. After a few minutes, he noticed that the invisible vice around his chest was loosening. Dr. Williams moved to listen to his lungs again and declared that he sounded somewhat better. Bonnie turned off the breathing treatment and placed a pulse oximeter on Bucky’s finger.

“95%. I’m much happier with that,” Dr. Williams said. She turned to Bucky, “I’m going to leave you in the very capable hands of Nurse Bonnie, and I’ll check in with you once we have the results of your labs and x-ray.” She thanked Bonnie for her help and made her exit.

“Ok, sweetheart,” Bonnie said, “we just have to do a few more things, then I’ll let you relax.” Bucky looked over to see that Bonnie was drawing medicine from a small vial into a syringe. “Don’t worry, no more pokes. This is going right into your IV.” Bucky breathed a sigh of relief and Bonnie injected the medicine into the IV line. “There, that should get your stomach feeling better. Now let’s work on your fever.” She handed Bucky two pills and a small cup of water. “Take those and then we’ll be all done for a little bit.” Bucky did as he was told. Bonnie beamed at him, “See, this wasn’t so bad- you’re doing great. Now let’s see if we can make you a little comfier.” She went to the opposite side of the room, reached into the cupboard above the sink and selected a pillow and blanket. Bucky felt some of the tension leave his body as she settled the pillow behind his head and draped him with the warm blanket. The anti-nausea medication was beginning to take effect; Bucky could feel the queasiness in his stomach abating. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dr. Raynor was grateful when she finished with her last appointment for the morning. Guilty feelings about leaving Bucky had been nagging at her all morning, but she knew that she had a responsibility to her other patients as well. She had tried to focus and be present during her sessions with them, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Bucky. Part of her wondered if she should have canceled her other appointments to be there for him. She could tell that he was in a very fragile place right now. It would be all too easy for his mental health to deteriorate from all the stress he was under. She tried to reassure herself that he must not be doing too badly; she hadn’t received any frantic calls from the Internal Medicine office for her to come and deal with an unhinged super-soldier having a breakdown. Still, there was a lot of space on the spectrum between ‘healthy coping’ and ‘complete meltdown’ and she had no idea where Bucky might be on it.

 Once she had seen the last patient out of her office, she quicky gathered her things and headed upstairs to the Internal Medicine department. She took it as a good sign that the office was quiet, and the personnel seemed to be unconcerned as they went about their work. The receptionist pointed her to Bucky’s room at the end of a short hallway. When she entered, she was relieved to find that he was fast asleep on the exam table with an IV in his right arm. She quietly observed him for a few moments as he slept. Although still pale, the feverish flush had receded somewhat from his cheeks and his breathing, though rapid and shallow, seemed less labored than when she had last seen him. However, the furrow in his brow hinted at the immense physical and mental strain he was experiencing. The paper on the bed crinkled as he shifted in his sleep and began to cough, the harsh noise breaking the silence of the room. After a few moments, the coughs subsided, Bucky moaned and squirmed, then settled. He needs his sleep, Dr. Raynor decided, so she elected not to wake him. Instead, she pulled up a chair next to him, took out her laptop and began catching up on some work.

Dr. Raynor hated paperwork. If she had known from the start that her job would require so much bookkeeping, she would have reconsidered her profession. She enjoyed talking to patients and helping them through difficult times in their lives, not arguing with insurance companies to cover the medications she prescribed. However, if that’s what it took for her patients to get the care they needed, she was willing to take on the fight. She soon became so engrossed with her work that at first, she didn’t notice Bucky stirring beside her. However, the rustle of the table paper soon caught her attention and she turned to find Bucky watching her quietly.  Even though she could see the pull of the muscles in his neck working hard to drag air into his body, he seemed calm.

“Hey,” he called out to her quietly, “you came back.”

Dr. Raynor put her computer away and smiled at him, “James, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”  

“Sick.”

“I’m glad you can admit that now.”

Bucky sighed, “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad... I thought it would go away after a while.” He looked down and added quietly, “That’s how it was before.”

“Before? You mean when you were with HYDRA?”

Bucky nodded, “Back then, my only purpose was to complete missions; my health was not something I was allowed to concern myself with. Whenever I became too sick or injured to perform effectively, the put me on ice and corrected the malfunction. When I woke up, everything would be back to normal.”

Dr. Raynor looked pointedly at Bucky, “Do you think that it might be helpful to change the way you think about your well-being?”

“I guess.”

“We’ve been working a lot on getting you to feel better mentally. However, it is just as important for you to feel good physically. Ignoring an illness is unlikely to yield good results.”

“Looks like I’m learning that lesson through experience, Doc,” Bucky said, attempting to adjust his blanket, then grimacing when the movement pulled painfully on his IV. “My ma used to say I was a remedial student at the school of hard knocks.”

“It does appear that way,” Dr. Raynor chuckled as she helped him with his blanket. Her own mother used to warn her about the proverbial ‘school of hard knocks’ when she was being stubborn. “How about we make it our goal for you not to have to repeat this particular lesson?” Her expression then became more serious, “How are you coping with being here?”

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess.”

“Fine? So nothing’s been stressful?”

Bucky laughed mirthlessly, “Just being here is stressful.”

“Ok, why don’t we unpack that a little bit. What is it about being here that you find stressful?”

“Everything… The needles, that damned thermometer that beeps in my ear, the mask—”

“Mask?”

“Yeah, they tried to have me wear a mask… Something about helping me breathe.”

“Ok. Why do you think that you found the mask upsetting?”

Bucky was silent for a moment. “They would sometimes make me wear a mask for missions when I was him.”

“Ok. So back then, wearing a mask resulted in you having to perform unpleasant tasks. How about now? Did anything bad happen as a result of the mask today?”

“No… It actually made me feel a little better.”

“Good,” Dr. Raynor said. “So, when an event brings up negative associations, maybe you could focus on how the current situation is different.”

Bucky nodded but looked unconvinced. Dr. Raynor continued, “Another great way to cope with stressful situations is to lean on your support system. Have you considered calling Sam?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“But?”

“But he’s busy dealing with important stuff.”

“Don’t you think that he would consider you important?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So wouldn’t your being ill qualify as ‘important stuff’?”

“I don’t know… Maybe.”

“Do you consider yourself to be important?”

As soon as the doctor finished the question, she saw tears welling up in Bucky’s eyes. He wiped at them with his metal hand but didn’t answer. “James, it’s ok to make yourself a priority,” Dr. Raynor said gently.

“I just want to go home,” he sniffled miserably.

Chapter Text

Nurse Bonnie was a little bit surprised to find Bucky conversing with another doctor when she went to check on him. She was about to excuse herself to allow them to continue their conversation, but Dr. Raynor waved her into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bonnie said to them.

“Not a problem,” Dr. Raynor replied. “We were just talking. Come on in, I don’t want to delay your work.”

Bonnie turned to Bucky, “Alright, sweetie, I just need to look you over and get a quick set of vital signs to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.”

Bucky huffed and complained, “This has got to be the third time I’ve had to do this today... Why?”

Dr. Raynor quickly reminded him that he had promised to cooperate. He glared at the doctor but offered Bonnie his arm so that she could check his IV and take his pulse. However, when Bonnie reached for the thermometer, Bucky resumed his protests, “Not that thing again. What happened to mercury thermometers? Those were nice and quiet!”

Dr. Raynor smiled to herself. It was often easy to forget that Bucky was over a hundred years old. However, this was one of the rare moments where he sounded exactly like the grumpy old man that he truly was.

“I remember those too, sweetie,” Bonnie said as she took his temperature, “but this is so much faster. See? We’re all done… and your temp is down to 99.”

Bucky was still grumbling about how not all technology is progress as Bonnie completed her assessment.

“Ok, honey, we need to get you down to Radiology for your x-ray,” Bonnie said as she walked towards the door, “it’s quite a hike to get there, so I’m going to grab a wheelchair for you. I’ll be right back.”  

Bucky paled and the pace of his breathing quickened.

“James, look at me,” Dr. Raynor commanded. “I want you to try and take some deep, calming breaths. You’re just going to have your picture taken. That’s all. You can do this.”

Bucky took a shuddering breath and nodded. He looked over and scowled as Bonnie approached with a wheelchair. “I’m not riding in that. I can walk.”

Dr. Raynor was about to give Bucky another lecture on being cooperative, but Bonnie gave her a wink and stepped in.

“Alright, sweetheart, if you say you want to walk, that’s what we’ll do. But I’m going to keep the chair with us, just in case you get tired.”

Bucky made it halfway to the door before his lungs felt like they were going to burst. Admitting defeat, he allowed Bonnie to bundle him into the wheelchair.

“You’re going to be just fine, sweetie,” Bonnie said as she draped a blanket over him, “after you’re all done, we’ll come back up here and get some food into you. You’ll feel a lot better with something in your stomach.”

“It’s going to be ok, James,” Dr. Raynor reassured him once more as Bonnie wheeled him to the door. “...Oh, and James?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to smile for the camera.”

A hint of a smile played over Bucky’s lips as he saluted her with his middle finger.

***

After Bucky had left for his x-ray, Dr. Raynor met Dr. Williams for lunch. Sitting at the small coffee table in Dr. Williams’ private office, their conversation turned to their mutual patient.

“James looked a lot better when I stopped by to see him,” Dr. Raynor said, opening a container of salad.

“That’s good. It’s amazing how much a patient can perk up after a little ibuprofen and IV hydration,” Dr. Williams said through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Has he given you any problems?”

“No, not at all. He seems so sad and scared though.”

Dr. Raynor took a bite of her salad, “Unfortunately, this is likely to be a difficult and scary experience for him no matter what. We just have to do our best to be gentle with him and try to minimize unnecessary stressors.”

Dr. Williams nodded in agreement, “I have my most skilled nurse taking care of him, she’s known to be a bit of a mother hen. She has been doing a great job with him.”

“Oh, I saw Bonnie in action; she’s just what James needs… Do you have a diagnosis for him yet?”

Dr. Williams twisted the cap off of a bottle of water. “Nothing definitive yet, but I have my suspicions. His lungs sound terrible, especially on the left side.”

“Pneumonia?”

“Probably. His lab results came back about an hour ago. The CBC showed an elevated white blood cell count with a left shift- he’s got an infection brewing. I’m going to start him on some broad-spectrum antibiotics… Have you discussed inpatient treatment with him yet?”

Dr. Raynor grimaced; she knew that she would need to have that conversation with Bucky eventually, but she was not looking forward to it. Even if she was able to get him to agree to being admitted to the hospital, she was concerned about how the hospital stay would affect him. As he did not have a primary care doctor, he would be assigned to the hospitalist service to be cared for by the in-house physicians. Although those doctors were very capable, they rotated shifts and would not provide the stability that would be most beneficial for Bucky’s mental health. She sighed and shook her head, “Not yet. I’m working on it,” she said wearily.

Dr. Williams gave her friend an incredulous look, “Well, hurry up! It’s already past noon.”

Dr. Raynor nodded and the conversation drifted to other topics. After some time, Dr. Williams went over to her computer, “I’ll bet that x-ray is up now.”

Dr. Raynor followed her friend to the desk and watched as Dr. Williams pulled up Bucky’s x-ray on her computer screen. As the image came into view, Dr. Raynor inhaled sharply. It had been over thirty years since she was required to read chest x-rays during her medical training, but she could tell that she was seeing something very abnormal. “Wow… That’s not good, is it?”

“No,” Dr. Williams replied grimly, “you see that white area around the left lung? That’s all fluid- probably infection from an untreated pneumonia. You can see how it’s compressing the lung tissue. That thing needs to be drained; there’s no way antibiotics alone will do the trick.”

“Drained?”

“Yeah, he’s going to need a chest tube.”

Dr. Raynor shuddered, “That’s pretty invasive therapy. Are there other options?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

“Shit. It’s going to take a small miracle to get him to agree to this plan,” Dr. Raynor said, drumming her fingers on the desk absentmindedly.

“Probably,” Dr. Williams agreed, “that’s why I’m going to let you handle that part.”

Dr. Raynor rolled her eyes at her friend, “Alright. I’ll discuss the test results and treatment plan with him and try to get him on-board. But I need you to do me a favor.”

“It seems like me doing you a favor is what got us into this mess in the first place… What do you need?”

“You have to admit him as your private patient. There’s no way he will be able to handle being on the hospitalist service with the revolving door of doctors. He needs as much consistency and stability as we can provide him right now. The fewer new faces he encounters here, the better.”

Dr. Williams nodded. “I can do that.”

“And I need you to be the one to place his chest tube,” Dr. Raynor continued.

“But I don’t usually do—”

Dr. Raynor interrupted, “I know this is a bit of an unusual ask, but you need to understand that this procedure is likely going to be extremely traumatic for James. Having it performed by a stranger is a recipe for disaster. Even if you don’t do it every day, I’m sure you are competent at inserting a chest tube, right?”

Dr. Williams nodded slowly, “It’s been a while, but I’ve done the procedure plenty of times. It’s just that I normally send my patients who need chest tubes to Interventional Radiology- they can do it under ultrasound guidance. It’s faster and more accurate that way.”

“I understand, but I’m going to ask you again. Please do this. It will make a big difference for James.”

 Ok,” Dr. Williams said quietly, “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Raynor said, “and James thanks you too.”

“You really owe me though,” Dr. Williams said with mock seriousness, “I’m thinking coffee. For a week!”

“Deal!” Dr. Raynor smiled.

Chapter Text

Bucky had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the x-ray was quick and easy, just as Dr. Raynor had told him it would be. Although Levi, the x-ray tech, looked like he was barely old enough to drive, he was efficient and professional. The worst part had been when he was asked to hold his breath for a few seconds while taking the film- Bucky had found himself coughing and gasping for several minutes after he was allowed to breathe again.

Now resting once more in Dr. Williams’ exam room, he breathed a sigh of relief as he half-heartedly nibbled a popsicle Bonnie had given him. Perhaps this ordeal was almost over, he thought to himself. Dr. Williams hadn’t mentioned any other plans for him, maybe she would come soon to deliver her diagnosis so that he could go home. He could tell that the ibuprofen he had taken earlier was wearing off; he was beginning to feel achy and feverish again. The artificial cherry flavor and excessive sweetness of the popsicle weren’t doing his stomach any favors either. He closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, trying to calm the queasy feeling in his belly. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the popsicle was beginning to dribble a trail of red down his hand. His breath caught painfully in his chest as he tried not to remember all the times blood had left similar stains on his hands.  He attempted to toss the dripping treat into the trash can across the room, but his aim was off. Instead, it landed with a soft thud on the nearby counter, leaving a puddle of red on the previously spotless surface. However, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess he had created. Even though he had been sleeping most of the day, he still felt exhausted. In addition, the pain in his chest was getting worse. Each breath felt like an invisible knife between his ribs was being turned. Right now, all he wanted was to go home, crawl into his own bed, and sleep for week.

His musings were interrupted by Dr. Raynor entering the room.

“Hey, Doc. I thought you would be back in your office by now,” Bucky greeted her.

“I didn’t have any patients scheduled after lunch. I try to set aside Wednesday afternoons for my administrative work. However, today I thought my time would be best spent here. I’ll catch up on my other work later.”

“You don’t need to do that, Doc. I’m fine- just getting ready to get out of here. I’ve done all the tests the doctor wanted; so I figure all that’s left is for her to get this IV out of my arm and let me go home.”

Dr. Raynor felt a bit guilty as she looked at Bucky. The feverish flush was creeping back to his cheeks, and she could see his body fighting for each breath that he took. Despite this, he was the calmest she had seen him all day as he regarded her with fever-bright eyes. She hated that she had to crush his hopes and possibly his spirit along with it. She shook her head sadly, “James, you’re pretty sick right now. Your x-ray shows that you have a collection of fluid around your left lung. It’s likely the result of pneumonia that has been neglected for too long. You will need to stay in the hospital for it to be treated effectively.”

Bucky’s face crumpled and he recoiled as if she had physically struck him. “You’re making me stay here?” he whimpered.

“Nobody’s making you do anything, James. This is completely your choice.”

Bucky sat in silence for several moments. Finally, he looked over at Dr. Raynor, “Ok… So, if this is my choice, I can say ‘no’, right? What happens if I say ‘no’?”

“You absolutely have the right to refuse care. If that is what you want to do, you may leave- nobody will stop you... However, you need to understand the consequences of that choice. If you go home today, you will get worse. Your illness will almost certainly progress to the point where you will be unable to breathe effectively on your own, or your organs will start shutting down… possibly both. Assuming that somebody finds you in time, you can look forward to spending at least a few weeks in the ICU with a breathing tube down your throat… and tubes in other places you don’t want to think about.  If you survive, you will then be discharged for a long stay at a rehabilitation facility to relearn basic skills like walking and using the toilet on your own.” Dr. Raynor watched Bucky’s face take on a look of absolute horror. She wished she didn’t have to be so blunt, but she knew it was the only way to help him quicky understand the reality of his situation.

“What’s going to happen to me if I stay?” Bucky asked quietly, metal fingers tracing the woven pattern of the blanket covering his lap.

“You will need to have a chest tube placed.  The doctor will insert a plastic tube between your ribs and into the space surrounding your lung. The other end of the tube will be attached to a suction device to allow the fluid that is around your lung to be removed. You will also receive antibiotics through your IV.”

Bucky’s eye grew wide, “H-how big is the tube?”

The doctor held her thumb and index finger a half inch apart, “probably about this big around.”

 “How long does it have to stay in?”

“Until all the infection has been drained. Probably a few days, but it could be more.”

Bucky sighed and paused for a moment. “Is it going to hurt?” he asked.

“I don’t know, James,” Dr. Raynor answered truthfully, “However, I imagine they will give you medication to make you as comfortable as possible.”

Bucky nodded and sat quietly for several minutes. “Ok,” he whispered. When he looked over at Dr. Raynor, his eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m really scared though.”

“It’s ok to be afraid. The important thing is that you made the right decision, even if it was difficult. I’m really proud of you.” She moved to give his hand a reassuring pat and noticed that he was trembling. “James, I know that this is probably the last place you want to be right now, but you’re safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you.”

Bucky sniffed miserably and scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his metal hand.

Dealing with people in crisis was not unusual for Dr. Raynor. She was an expert at remaining detached from her patients’ messy emotions. Being a calm, neutral presence while her patients’ lives were falling apart was all in a day’s work for her. However, as she watched Bucky tearfully shivering with fear and fever, she couldn’t block the rush of compassion she felt for him.

“James, would you like a hug?”

He nodded and allowed Dr. Raynor to hold his quaking body in her arms. She was surprised by the intensity of the heat radiating from his cheek as it rested briefly against her neck. “You’re going to be ok,” she whispered to him, “thanks for letting us help you.”

After a moment, Bucky moved away, slightly mortified by the trail of snot and tears he had left on the shoulder of the doctor’s expensive looking jacket. Looking down, he asked hesitantly, “C-can you be there with me? I mean, when they put the tube in?”

“Yes. If that is what you want.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered, melting weakly against the bed. The rush of emotions had taken a lot out of him. Anxiety was making an uncomfortable companion with the nausea in his stomach and the pain in his chest, but he was too tired to fight it.

“It’s going to be ok,” Dr. Raynor reassured him, patting him gently on the shoulder.

He looked up at her with tired eyes, and gave a little nod.

 Seeing that Bucky was calmer, Dr. Raynor took her leave, explaining that she needed to catch up on a bit of work, but promising to come and see him once he was settled into his hospital room.

Chapter Text

Bucky settled onto the pillows of his bed on the inpatient wing of the medical center. Although he was happy to discover that his hospital bed was much more comfortable than the exam table in the clinic, he was sorry to leave Bonnie behind. His new nurse, Anna, was a dour-looking woman who did not engage in any extraneous conversation as she hung a fresh bag of IV fluids and some antibiotics on the metal stand next to the bed. As she prepared to record another set of vital signs, Bucky groused, “why do you guys keep making me do this?”

“It’s protocol,” she said tersely, swiping a thermometer across his forehead. Bucky was grateful that it wasn’t the kind that beeped in his ear; and Anna finished her work in silence. As she typed something into the computer, she spoke to Bucky without taking her eyes off the screen, “your doctor will be by to place your chest tube this evening.” Before he could give any response, she left the room.

 Anna’s brusque manner only exacerbated Bucky’s anxiety. He wished she would have offered some kind words, told him that he would be ok, or at least shown some empathy. Bucky could feel the terror slowly rising from his stomach up to his chest. Breathing was becoming even more laborious than before. He tipped his head back and tried to force air into his lungs, but the effort triggered another coughing fit. Pain ripped through his chest with each expulsion of air, making his eyes water. Eventually the episode subsided, leaving Bucky panting weakly against the pillows. He felt so afraid, incredibly sick, and terribly lonely. In that moment, he resolved that he would call Sam. The possibility of interrupting Sam’s work now seemed like a reasonable risk. Bucky levered himself upright in bed, closing his eyes and swallowing hard as a wave of nausea hit him. Anna had placed all his personal belongings, including his phone, in a small closet on the other side of the room. However, Bucky realized he wouldn’t make it that far as soon as he stood up on unsteady legs; the few feet between the closet and his bed might as well have been a thousand miles. He slumped back into the bed feeling defeated. The hospital phone on his bedside table mocked him cruelly. Although it was within easy reach, it did not have Sam’s number programmed into it. Bucky felt tears stinging his eyes as he realized that he was truly alone.

***

True to her word, Dr. Raynor came to see Bucky that evening. However, Bucky’s heart sank a little to see that she was accompanied by Dr. Williams. That could only mean that it was time for the chest tube. His stomach flipped when Anna wheeled in a cart covered in a blue drape.

Dr. Williams came to stand by Bucky’s bedside, “Good evening, James. Thank you for letting us help you; I know that this was a really difficult decision for you to make. I’m going to do my best to get you healthy and back home as soon as possible.”

“What’s that for?” Bucky asked warily, pointing to the cart.

 “Those are just some supplies we will need for your chest tube.”

“Can I see?”

Dr. Raynor stepped forward. “That probably isn’t a good idea, James. I’m sure Dr. Williams will explain everything to you as she is working. I think that looking at the tools will only make you more anxious.”

Bucky looked at her despondently.

“I know it sounds scary, but I will make sure that you are as comfortable as possible,” Dr. Williams said soothingly as she moved the cart to the left side of Bucky’s bed. “How about we go ahead and get this over with? Once it’s done, you will be a big step closer to getting well again.”

“You can do this, James,” Dr. Raynor said, pulling a chair to the opposite side of the bed.

Dr. Williams had Bucky take both arms out of his gown, allowing it to fall to his waist. He shivered as his skin felt the chill of the air in the room. The doctor then positioned him on his back with his left arm above his head. Bucky looked over to Dr. Raynor and reached for her hand.  She took it, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Anna’s going to help you stay in the right position,” Dr. Williams said as Bucky felt the nurse pressing his metal arm into the mattress. He tried not to think about how ineffective this restraint would be if he were inclined to break free. He focused instead on the comforting feeling of his right hand being held in Dr. Raynor’s steady grasp.

“You’re going to feel some cold soap,” Dr. Williams called out as she began sponging off the left side of Bucky’s chest with antiseptic. Bucky shuddered. It was cold and tickled a bit, but it was not painful. He looked over at Dr. Raynor who gave his hand a squeeze.

“You’re doing a great job, James,” Dr. Raynor said reassuringly. Bucky closed his eyes and took a quaking breath. After a few moments, he realized that Dr. Williams had finished wiping down his skin. He looked over and saw her filling a large syringe. “No, let’s not look over there, look at me,” Dr. Raynor said, slipping her hand between Bucky’s cheek and the pillow and guiding his face back towards her.

“But.. she’s going to—”

“James, it’s ok. Dr. Williams is taking good care of you. How about we just chat a little bit and let her do her job.”

“B-but that’s a really big needle!” Bucky’s breaths were coming in ragged gasps and tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. He jumped when he felt Dr. Williams’ gloved fingers against his chest.

“Ok James,” Dr. Williams said gently, “I’m going to cover you with some sterile towels to keep everything clean. Then, I need to inject some medicine under your skin to numb the area. Do you need a minute, or would you prefer I do it now?”

“Just a minute,” Bucky gasped. Dr. Raynor patted his hand and reminded him to breathe. After a few minutes, Bucky nodded his consent to proceed. Dr. Williams spread several rough, blue cloths over his torso. Then, Bucky felt the sharp sting of the needle between his ribs, followed by a feeling of warmth spreading over his skin.

“You did great, James,” Dr. Williams praised him. “Now we will just wait a few seconds for the medicine to do its job.”  Bucky could hear the rip of plastic packaging being opened and the metallic clink of instruments on the cart. He attempted to see what was going on, but Dr. Raynor’s gentle but firm hand was on his cheek again.

“No. Sorry, James. I need your eyes over here,” Dr. Raynor said.

“Ok James,” Dr. Williams said, “I have to create a space for the tube. First, I will make a small incision on the side of your chest. You may feel some pressure, but nothing should hurt.”

Bucky looked miserably at Dr. Raynor. She gave him a sympathetic smile, “Let’s play a game. Can you name all the states that start with the letter ‘A’?” she asked.

“Alaska… Arizona…” Bucky felt Dr. Williams’ fingers pressing against his ribs. “Um… Alabama…” He could tell that a scalpel was moving against his skin, making its way into the flesh between his ribs. The sensation was unsettling, but not painful.

“There’s one more ‘A’ state,” Dr. Raynor prompted.

“Um… Arkansas.”

Dr. Raynor smiled at him, “Great job!”

Dr. Williams interrupted the game to inform Bucky that she would now be using an instrument to separate the muscles between his ribs. After that, she would slide the tube into place. Dr. Raynor noticed how Bucky’s eyes widened in fear and his grip tightened on her hand.

“Let’s move on to ‘C’ states since there aren’t any that start with ‘B’,” Dr. Raynor said, redirecting his attention.

“California…” Bucky was aware of something probing into the side of his chest. It twisted and forced its way deeper. As the instrument tunneled into his body, he realized that he was able to feel it more and more. “C-Colorado.” Bucky felt a twinge of discomfort as the tool drove its way even deeper. He tried to focus on Dr. Raynor’s game. “Connecticut.”

“Very nice. Let’s do ‘D’,” Dr. Raynor encouraged him.

The instrument moved further still into Bucky’s chest. It was definitely painful now. “Delaware,” he whimpered.

“One more, but it’s a tricky one,” Dr. Raynor said.

Bucky tried to concentrate on the last ‘D’ state, but the pain had gotten intense. Tears rolled down his face as he fought to control his breathing. He wished that Sam was there. Sam would know how to make things better. “Sam, help me!” Bucky moaned, crying out for his absent friend.

“We’re almost done, James,” Dr. Williams called to him. “Just a little more.”

Bucky gasped as he felt a larger object invading his chest wall.

“Almost there,” Dr. Williams murmured.

Bucky felt a blinding flash of pain as the tube slid into place. He was sobbing openly now. Each breath caused the tube to shift slightly inside his chest, exacerbating the agony. Holding his breath was the only thing that gave some semblance of relief. He lay perfectly still and willed himself not to breathe; but his body soon reacted to the lack of oxygen, forcing him to take an involuntary gasping breath. Another searing wave of pain tore through him. He panted for a few excruciating seconds before trying to hold his breath again.

“Deep, slow breaths, James. It’s ok to cry but I need you to remember to breathe,” Dr. Raynor said calmly.

“Let’s give him 5 milligrams of morphine,” Dr. Williams said to Anna, who had been so quiet Bucky had forgotten she was there.

Anna silently left to retrieve the medication and Dr. Williams returned her attention to Bucky, gently patting his thigh. “I’m sorry you’re having pain right now. Sometimes the deeper tissue doesn’t get very numb. We’re going to give you something to make you feel better in a moment. Just hang on a little longer for me.”

“O— k—,” Bucky said, choking out each syllable of the word between hiccupping sobs, tears flowing down his face.

“The last thing I need to do is secure the tube, so that it doesn’t come out before we’re ready,” Dr. Williams continued. “I’m just going to put a stitch around the tube and into your skin. Your skin is numb, so you shouldn’t feel much for this part.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he could feel the stitch or not, he was too preoccupied with the pain from the foreign object inside his chest. He was only vaguely aware of Dr. Raynor moving away from him a few minutes later to allow Anna space to inject the medication into his IV.

“Ok. We’re all done, James,” Dr. Williams said as she removed the towels covering his torso. “I know that was tough, but you did great.” Bucky looked down to see a clear plastic tube snaking from his chest to a container on the floor. Disgust washed over him as he looked at this synthetic appendage now attached to him. He tried not to think about waking up in the HYDRA lab to discover the metal arm grafted to his body. Making matters worse, he could see a thick, blood-tinged, yellowish sludge oozing out of his chest and down the tube. The room suddenly felt unbearably hot, saliva pooled in his mouth, and he gagged. Anna was holding a basin under his chin before his stomach expelled its meager contents. He was impressed- what she lacked in bedside manner, she made up for in efficiency. As he retched and gagged into the basin, he was a bit disturbed to discover that that the popsicle he had eaten earlier tasted very similar coming up as it did going down. He made a note to himself never to eat cherry popsicles again.

“You should rinse out your mouth,” Anna said flatly once he was done vomiting. She held out a cup of water. Bucky did as she suggested. The morphine was starting to take effect and the intense pain had subsided a little. His head felt fuzzy and everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion.  As Anna helped him back into his hospital gown, Bucky looked over at Dr. Raynor.

“What was the last one?” he asked her, his words slurring slightly.

“The last one?”

“Yeah, the ‘D’ state?”

“Oh,” Dr. Raynor chuckled, impressed that he still remembered their little game, “District of Columbia.”

“That’s not a state!” Bucky said somewhat indignantly.

Dr. Raynor smiled, “I suppose that’s true.” She noticed that Bucky was beginning to have difficulty keeping his eyes open. “Why don’t you get some rest, James. You’ve had a rough day.”

He was snoring softly by the time she left the room.

***

Bucky was still in a deep, medication-induced sleep an hour later when his door burst open and Sam rushed into the room, worry written all over his face. Once inside, Sam paused. The room was so quiet, the only sounds were the soft hiss of the IV pump and Bucky’s shallow breaths, occasionally punctuated by a moan. He moved silently to Bucky’s bedside and observed his sleeping friend for a few moments. Sam noted the thick plastic tube snaking from under the covers at Bucky’s left side, the faint hint of bruising on the inside of his right elbow surrounding his IV, and the tension in Bucky’s pale face. It was clear that he had been through a lot. Sam reached over and brushed his hand across Bucky’s forehead, growing even more concerned when he felt the intense heat of Bucky’s skin against his own. However, he noticed that the stress in Bucky’s face seemed to lessen at his touch. He gently ran his thumb over the crease between Bucky’s eyebrows and wondered how Bucky could have gotten so sick so quickly; he had seemed fine the previous week when they last spoke. Sam frowned as he thought about how terrified Bucky must have been all alone in the hospital. He sat in the chair by Bucky’s bedside and waited for Bucky to wake up, refusing to leave even when Anna informed him that visiting hours were over.

Chapter Text

Bucky awoke the next morning still feeling groggy from the medication. He blinked, willing his vision to clear. That was when he sensed that he was not the only person in the room. Instinctively, he reached under his pillow, searching for the knife he kept in his bed at home. Coming up empty, he felt a moment of panic before he heard a familiar voice.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Sam!” Bucky attempted to sit up and turn towards him, but fell back with a yelp of pain as the tube shifted in his chest.

“Whoa, take it easy there, partner.”

“How... why are you here?” Bucky stammered.

“Well, I heard that my dumbass friend ignored his health until he landed himself in the hospital; so I came to make sure he was alright...  What the hell were you thinking, Buck?”

Bucky ignored the question, “But how did you know?”

“My job allows me to keep tabs on you… I know when you’ve been stupid like this, so you’d better shape up!”

“You’re Captain America, not Santa Claus,” Bucky grumbled.

“You’re lucky I’m not, because your ass would be getting nothing but a lump of coal for pulling this stunt...” Sam paused for a moment. “Truthfully, I found out that you were here because your psychiatrist called me- apparently, you have me listed as your emergency contact.”

Bucky had forgotten about putting Sam’s name on the paperwork when he first started seeing Dr. Raynor. He felt a flush of heat rising in his cheeks, “Sorry about that, I just didn’t have anyone else to put on the form,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you choose me. Someone’s got to watch out for you, especially when you do dumb shit like this.” Sam motioned for Bucky to scoot over in the bed, then sat beside him, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “But really, are you ok? It sounds like you’ve been pretty sick.”

Bucky sighed, “Yeah, I guess. Being here brings up bad memories, but I’m working on not letting them get to me.”

Sam nodded. “Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not right now,” he said softly.

“Ok. But the offer’s still good if you change your mind later… Oh, I almost forgot... I got something to keep you busy since it looks like you’re going to be parked here for a while.” Sam pulled a paper bag from the bedside table and handed it to his friend. Bucky reached inside and found a boxed set of The Lord of the Rings novels. “I figured you didn’t get a chance to read the rest of the series,” Sam said.

“I didn’t. I was busy with… other things when they came out,” Bucky said softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Buck… hey, are you crying?”

Sam looked over at his friend and was concerned to see tears silently flowing down Bucky’s cheeks. He pulled Bucky into a gentle embrace. As Bucky felt the comfort of Sam’s arms around him, the tears came harder. He wept for the pain, fear, and loneliness he had felt in the recent days, as well as for all the time he had lost under HYDRA’s control. The tears were initially cathartic, but soon his gasping sobs began to irritate the tube in his chest and painfully stress his tortured lungs. “Shhh, it’s ok, you’re safe, nobody’s going to hurt you,” Sam whispered repeatedly into Bucky’s ear as he held him in his arms, rubbing gentle circles on his back. When Bucky finally began to settle, Sam released his hold and carefully propped Bucky against the pillows before snaking his arm around Bucky’s shoulders once more.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, wiping his nose on his hand, “It’s just been a rough couple of days.”

“I can believe it,” Sam said quietly, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You didn’t want to bother me?” Sam said incredulously, “You do know that I would have come for you the second you called, no matter what I was doing, right? The only thing that bothers me is that I wasn’t able to be there for you! I mean, shit Bucky, they shoved a damn garden hose into your chest- that must have been horrible.”

“It was really scary, and it hurt like hell,” Bucky whispered. He coughed and attempted to adjust himself against the pillows, wincing as the tube moved in his chest again. “It still does.”

“Dammit Bucky, you’re in pain now? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam reached over and pressed the nurse call button on the bed railing.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Bucky said tiredly.

Sam used his thumb to wipe away the remaining tears from Bucky’s cheeks. “Yes, I did. You’re sitting here hurting when you don’t need to. I’m sure your doctor ordered you some pain medicine- you just have to ask for it, buddy.”

Bucky sighed as Anna entered the room. She stared for a long moment at the two men in the bed before inquiring how she could be of service.

“I uh—" Bucky began, looking down and studying the blanket in his lap.

“He’s having some pain; can we get him something for that?” Sam interrupted.

Anna nodded, “on a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?” she asked Bucky.

“Six… maybe seven,” Bucky said quietly without looking up. Anna looked intently at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and left the room without a word.

“Wow… she’s a real ray of sunshine,” Sam said sarcastically as she left.

Bucky chuckled, then inhaled sharply as the movement exacerbated the pain in his chest. He punched Sam on the shoulder. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“What? It’s true!” Sam said, feigning innocence.

Anna returned shortly afterwards with pills and water for Bucky. She observed sternly as he took them, then retreated from the room, instructing him to call if he needed anything else.

Sam gave Bucky’s shoulder a little squeeze. “See, you just have to let us know what’s going on. Everybody here wants to help you- even Nurse Stares-A-Lot. Life doesn’t always have to hurt.” Bucky nodded, then rested his head on Sam’s shoulder.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Bucky picked up the pack of books and examined the details of the box. After thoroughly inspecting each side he spoke, “Sam, I hope you realize that this doesn’t change my assertion that there are no such things as wizards,” he said as his lips pulled into a little smile.

Sam huffed, “Wizards are totally a thing! Maybe one day you’ll get your head on straight.”

They fell into an easy silence while Bucky slid the novels from the box and thumbed through the pages of The Fellowship of the Ring.

“Maybe I should go back and read The Hobbit again. I don’t really remember all the details after 85 years,” he mused.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam agreed. “Hopefully all that reading will keep you from going too stir-crazy while you’re stuck in bed… Oh, and just so you know, once they let you out of here, you’re coming to stay with me until you’re better.”

Bucky looked at him, surprised. He opened his mouth to protest, but Sam interrupted, “Not up for discussion. You clearly can’t be trusted to keep yourself alive on your own. I’m going to keep an eye on you to make sure that you get healthy again. You know, we could even take a trip down to Delacroix; the warm air would be good for your lungs— but you’d better not flirt with my sister again!”

Bucky smirked, “I can’t help it if ladies find me charming.”

“My sister is off limits! How about you work your charm with that weird nurse of yours? You guys can bond over your mutual love of staring… but you leave Sarah alone! I will kick your sorry ass,” Sam threatened with mock seriousness.

Bucky smiled and chuckled lightly; it felt good to have Sam with him. Even though each breath still reverberated painfully in his chest, he felt the tension of the past days melt from his body. Sam leaned away from him briefly to grab the tv remote off the bedside table, then returned to his previous position. Bucky snuggled a little bit closer and allowed his head to rest on Sam’s chest. The slow, regular cadence of Sam’s heartbeat in Bucky’s ear was comforting and allowed him to relax further.  His eyelids grew heavy, and he was only vaguely aware of the sounds of the TV as Sam flipped through the channels. Soon, Bucky drifted into a peaceful sleep.