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Steve looked over at Sam when his boyfriend squeezed his hand, the firm but gentle pressure communicating a novel’s worth of emotions. Steve could see the love and support mixed in with the grief over Clint and the sorrow for their teammates. It didn’t surprise either of them that Natasha had taken the loss as badly as she had, but Tony’s guilt had been a bit of a curveball.
Steve and Sam had both tried to help absolve him of it. Steve had tried to reassure him he had made the right choice, that there would have been more casualties if Iron Man had stayed on that rooftop after delivering Clint to Bucky’s aid instead of returning to the battle. Tony had continued spitballing different ways he could have gotten a paramedic to Bucky sooner, growing more agitated as Sam kept explaining that medics weren’t deployed until the scene was safe.
“I could have made it safe!” Tony had yelled after the third time Sam said it. Tony had left after that, unable to believe that he hadn’t delivered Clint to his death, and unwilling to listen to anyone saying otherwise. Steve hoped he had gone to be with Pepper or Rhodey to mourn or process, but suspected he had sequestered himself in his lab instead. Short of predicting the future, Steve didn’t know how Tony was going to prevent future incidents like this one.
At Sam’s heavy sigh Steve forcefully redirected his attention back to him.
“Don’t let Tony’s might-have-beens get to you too,” Steve admonished lightly. “You saved us from losing two people by heading over there when you did, and if you had gotten there earlier both you and Clint would have been too distracted to notice the guy.”
“How are you coping?” Sam asked instead of responding to Steve’s words.
“Just trying to be grateful Bucky made it out of surgery.”
“You can’t ignore your own emotions, Steve.”
“I know, but mine can wait. I need to be there for Bucky when he wakes up. I’m not sure how he’s going to cope with what happened.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed in a solemn tone. There was a long pause before he continued. “It’s going to be rough.”
Steve suspected Riley was heavy in Sam’s thoughts, but didn’t begrudge him it. He shifted on the uncomfortable hospital chair so he could pull Sam towards him. Holding onto Sam’s neck he guided him to lean forward until their foreheads were pressed together; a communion of understanding passed through the touch.
“I’m serious Steve,” Sam said after several minutes. “Clint was your friend too, and you nearly lost Bucky again. You can’t just be the strong one for everyone else, you’re going to have to feel sometime.”
A wave of irritation, immediately followed by guilt, washed through Steve and he pulled away.
“I know. And I will. Later.”
***
At first Steve was thankful that Bucky hadn’t woken until after he had returned from showering and changing into his civilian clothes; he had failed Bucky so often in life that it was an almost pathological need to be there for him now. He nearly hadn’t let Sam chivy him into cleaning up, but as Bucky had been moved into a private room Sam had insisted the actions would make him feel better. When that hadn’t worked Sam had pointed out that Bucky would appreciate it if Steve didn’t stink of sweat and blood when he woke up. In the end Steve had begrudgingly gone and used an onsite shower and put on the clothes Sam had arranged to courier over with JARVIS while Sam kept watch at Bucky’s bedside.
Sam had left shortly after Steve had settled himself back into the bedside chair. He promised to return within an hour or two with food after he cleaned himself up and checked up on the others, so Steve was alone in the room when Bucky woke up.
Steve heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, followed by an uptick in the heartbeat monitor. As Steve struggled to decide what to say, Bucky’s eyes snapped open and began darting around the room, glazed and clearly not seeing his actual surroundings.
“Buck. Buck, it’s okay,” he tried even as Bucky’s hands started scrabbling around his chest, searching for the wires underneath the hospital gown. His searching became more frantic and his fingers found the IV line in his right arm, yanking it out in a spray of blood.
“Bucky no!” Steve yelled and leapt up to stop the movements. Bucky bucked underneath Steve’s weight, wrenching his body back and forth in an attempt to free himself. He somehow managed to snag some of the wires from where they crossed over the mattress, snapping the ones that didn’t pull free from the monitors as he yanked them towards himself.
“Bucky, stop. You’re safe, stop, you need to calm down,” Steve pleaded as hospital personnel rushed in in response to the alarms that screamed from the machinery. Steve was still pleading with his best friend when Bucky suddenly went limp underneath him. It took Steve a long moment to trust the stillness and pull away, then he noticed the large needle one of the medical providers was taking away for disposal.
Steve’s eyes snapped back up to Bucky’s lax face; they had sedated him. He allowed himself to be directed out of the way so the nurses could fix the wires Bucky mangled and hook him back up to the monitors and fluids. Someone asked Steve if he was okay; the words felt distant — he could feel horror still tugging at him. The way Bucky hadn’t made a single noise had been eerie. He must have made the appropriate answers because it wasn’t long before Steve was left alone in the room to stare at Bucky, still motionless on the bed.
***
Steve was started out of a doze the next time Bucky woke up. He wasn’t quiet this time. This time Bucky was screaming, screaming so thickly it made Steve’s throat hurt in sympathy. He automatically reached out for Bucky’s hand, to offer reassurance and solidarity but Bucky immediately wrenched his hand free.
Still trying to get his bearings Steve watched aghast as Bucky began to claw at his face and neck. As soon as he was able to shake himself from his stunned immobility he lunged for Bucky’s wrists and attempted to pin him and began to yell at Bucky, desperate to be heard over Bucky’s continued screams.
“Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting yourself! There’s nothing there!”
This time Steve noticed when the medical team surged into the room, saw how they worked to immobilize Bucky’s legs where this time he was kicking out violently. He watched as a nurse unloaded a syringe into the IV line that was mercifully still in Bucky’s arm this time.
The medication kicked in quickly, Bucky’s fingers slowing their clawing action against his chest where Steve had finally been able to pin them before he stilled completely. Gentle hands had to tug at Steve’s shoulders to lever him off of Bucky’s inanimate body.
Still reeling, Steve stood to the side, out of the way, and watched as a nurse treated the long scores on Bucky’s face, neck where they disappeared under the neckline of the garment that had saved his chest from the same treatment.
They were still cleaning him up when Sam entered the room. Steve’s anguished eyes locked onto Sam who shoved the takeout containers onto a table by the door and rushed to envelop Steve in a tight embrace.
“What happened?” Sam asked as he held Steve to him. Steve was at a loss for words, he could only silently shake his head where it was pressed into Sam’s neck.
“I believe there was a lot of … organic material on Mr. Barnes when he was brought in. Given what he was yelling I think maybe he thought it was still there and was trying to get it off?” The nurse offered the suggestion tentatively, and flushed when Steve turned his head to stare at her. He hadn’t even realized Bucky had been saying anything — the screaming had devolved into an empty rushing noise in Steve’s ears.
***
“I want a shower.”
The words were hoarse but clear and sudden in the dim room. It was late and Steve startled hard, dropping the tablet he had been reading a book on. He hadn’t been expecting Bucky to wake up so soon after the sedative administration, nor to be so lucid this time after the way he had been the first two times he had woken and he felt off balance.
“Uh,” he hesitated. “Do you know where you are?”
“Yeah, in a hospital bed, feeling goddamn disgusting. Help me up.”
“I, uh. I think they want you to stay on the monitors,” he said weakly, gesturing at the displays. Steve’s mind felt like it was racing while his heart plummeted — did Bucky not remember? Should he say something?
“I don’t care. I need a shower.” Steve had never been successful in gainsaying Bucky when this specific mulish tone came out; he doubted he would be able to start now.
“I’ll get a nurse and we’ll see what they say,” he prevaricated, hands up in a display of surrender — he hoped Bucky would see reason when the nurse told him no.
“Get one quick or I’m getting my damn self up,” Bucky said, jaw set and eyes fixed on Steve unblinking. So, maybe not. Steve hurried out of the room, feeling distinctly unsettled and flagged the nurse down quickly.
“I’m taking a shower,” Bucky greeted her flatly when she stepped in the room.
“Okay, Mr. Barnes. If you’ll give me a few minutes to confer with the night doc and get some discontinue orders in place we’ll get you situated.”
“Be quick or I’ll DC the shit myself,” Bucky warned her and Steve winced at the rudeness, but the nurse just laughed.
“You’ll want my help removing the catheter, I promise you that. Give me thirty minutes.”
True to her word she was back shortly, and Bucky was soon free of the monitoring wires and catheter, and the IV line had been capped off.
Super soldier knock off serum or not, Bucky hadn’t regained his strength and balance after the blood loss and skull fracture. The nurse wanted to transfer him to the shower with a wheelchair but Bucky had gotten antsy and impatient, so Steve volunteered to carry him to the shower chair.
Steve was a little surprised that Bucky didn’t care when the nurse stripped him of the hospital gown; but he supposed it didn't matter. She had literally just had her hands on his junk, seeing him naked probably didn’t compare. The nurse left a clean gown on the sink and left Steve with directions to yank the red cord if he needed anything, but then left Steve to monitor or assist as needed.
“I don’t see why I can’t be in here on my own,” Bucky muttered petulantly. “I’m a grown ass man, been washing myself for a good while now.” Steve flushed and stared at the opposite wall, unsure why he felt so uncomfortable — he and Bucky had never had issues or boundaries around nudity and bathing between them before.
“Well, Buck. They’re probably worried about self harm.”
“What?”
“You’ve still got scabs from the scratches you gave yourself,” Steve said, and he could hear the pain he was unable to mask in his own voice. Bucky frowned but didn’t comment. Steve passed over the washcloth and tried to make himself inconspicuous, feeling every inch of his size in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.
“This shower is pathetic,” Bucky complained, still scrubbing at his skin with the rough cloth. Steve looked over and anguish flooded him, overriding the unease he had been stewing in. He had to take a deep breath so he wouldn’t leap over there and snatch the rag. Instead he moved closer slowly, telegraphing his moves and pulled the rag tenderly from Bucky’s hand.
“You’re rubbing your skin raw.” His voice was barely a whisper, strangled with grief.
“It’s not coming off,” Bucky insisted as he tried to tug the rag back.
“Buck. There’s nothing there. They gave you a bed bath after the surgery.”
“I can, I can still, feel him on me ,” Bucky choked out his first acknowledgement of what had happened before he dissolved into tears. Steve knelt in front of Bucky, not even noticing the shower spray and pulled him into a tight hug, rocking them both back and forth.