[Bucky Barnes; R] The Righteous Side Of Hell: Chapter 12 Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: R Notes: Coming out from under a drug fog is hell. Title: The Righteous Side Of Hell - Chapter 12: Haunted By Their Faces Author:yuuo Word Count: 6729 Summary:Tony wanted to grab them right away as they left radiology.
i've seen the anger and i've seen all the dreams and I've watched an existence torn apart by the seams and though i may seem helpless i will do all that i can do i've seen a part of people that I never really wanted to share i've seen a part of people that I never knew was there -Sarah McLachlan
Tony wanted to grab them right away as they left radiology. Bucky told him to go home an annoy Pepper, he and Steve were both tired, and hadn't gotten much sleep. The girls took the hint and herded a protesting Tony away.
Bucky's stress levels had gotten high enough that he took two of his Ativan, knowing that the full milligram between them would actually let him sleep awhile. Before he drifted off, he shot a look to Steve, who looked close to the same. Figuring that they'd both get the needed sleep, he let himself drop into a medicated and heavy sleep.
He had no idea how long it was before he woke up, but his head hurt from it. He stretched and quietly got up, not wanting to wake Steve. Steve, however, wasn't asleep. In fact, he was awake, laying down facing Bucky, and looking utterly dejected. Bucky walked over to him. "Didn't sleep well?"
Steve shook his head. "Didn't sleep at all." He heaved a deep sighed. "Tried drawing what I remember, but I ran out of things in my head." He looked up at Bucky. "So what happens if Bruce finds something off in that scan?"
Bucky wanted to hug him, hold him like he did when Steve got nightmares when they were kids, or when Steve had one of his migraines, but Steve's position and the broken safety rail made it hard, so he put his metal hand on the non-broken parts of the rail and reached out to pet Steve's hair back. "It just means that we're right about a drug doing that. That's all. It doesn't mean that whatever bad it is won't go away. It will. We just need to get your metabolism up to kick that drug out and you'll be fine."
Steve didn't look convinced, flitted his gaze over to the pile of sketchbooks on his table. "Has Bruce ever done a scan on you to be sure?"
Damn. That was a question he couldn't answer truthfully without making Steve worry more. But, he wasn't going to be dishonest with his own best friend over something so important. "No," he admitted. "By the time we got here where Bruce could do them, the feeling you have now was long gone and I still didn't trust doctors. What you're seeing here with me in the hospital and subjecting myself to blood draws is a damn miracle." He leaned over the rail and pressed his cheek against Steve's. "Hey, trust your big brother on this, yeah? You'll be fine."
Steve pressed back against Bucky's cheek, a familiar gesture from long ago. "You'd better not be lying to me about this, Bucky. I remember enough that I can guilt you for it."
Bucky couldn't help a smile as he straightened. "I know you can. You can do it without trying. Would it help if I asked Bruce to give me a PET scan? See what's up so we can compare yours against mine?"
Steve looked to be seriously considering that. "Depends on what he finds," he finally settled on.
"Then I'll ask him when he gets here."
"Ask who what?" Speak of the devil.
Bucky looked at the doorway to see Bruce with his computer in hand again. "Depending on what you find there, we want a PET done on me. Just for comparison. Make Steve feel a bit better."
Bruce blinked a few times as if he hadn't ever considered giving Bucky a scan of any sort, although Bucky knew that wasn't true; it was more likely surprise that Bucky would consent, followed by a head shake that cleared away the disbelief as his expression changed from one of surprise to one of a complete lack of it. "Well, I can, if it'd make Steve feel better." He looked at Steve."Did you get any sleep?"
Steve shook his head.
"Then you'll eat before we do anything to Bucky. But first, why don't we go over your own scans?"
Steve sat up in his bed, curling his legs underneath him, something he didn't do before, that being something that Bucky did that actually usually annoyed Steve. Bucky wondered if Steve was trying to emulate him, and if he was, would that go away once he'd detoxed. Either way, it was odd.
Bruce tapped at his screen a few times, then turned it to show the other two. "Everything's normal except this extra activity here in the prefrontal cortex," he said, motioning to a section of Steve's brain that was lit up brighter where the rest wasn't. "That's one of several parts of the brain that targets long term memory, and the formation of short term memory. One of the things that separates it from the other memory sections is that the long term memory targeted is not task based. Thus why Bucky never had to retrain after his doses and the mindwipes."
Steve looked at Bucky, and it took Bucky a second to figure out why. "He's right. The only 'retraining' I ever got was just getting caught up on new technology. All my skills they'd taught me stayed in place." He looked at Bruce. "So safe conclusion is that I was right about that drug?"
"I agree, yes," Bruce said. He looked between them. "I can take those scans on Bucky, if you want, but I want you to eat first, Steve."
Steve slumped in his seat a bit. "My stomach doesn't really feel good."
"I know," Bruce said. "Worry does that. But some of that might be that you haven't eaten anything since possibly two days ago. I want you to eat food. You've had your medicine, you've had time to let it get into your system, it's time for you to eat." He looked at Bucky. "If I'm scanning you, you get nothing."
Bucky made a face. "You'll make me sit there and watch him eat while I'm starving?"
"Yes." Bruce displayed no hesitation in how fast that statement came out.
"You can go on ahead," Steve said. "I can eat, then catch up. You won't be able to talk to me or do anything for an hour anyway. It's boring, by the way. Just to warn you."
"I know," Bucky said. "I sat there and waited on you. But you eat, I'll go do the whole sitting still thing for awhile. He looked back at Bruce. "What kind of meal are you going to give him so I can warn him how bad it might be?"
Bruce shook his head slightly. "Not much. I don't want to reintroduce food into his system too fast. I'll have Jo bring in some milk and some broth and some crackers. All easy on the stomach." Bruce peered at him over the tops of his glasses. "If I were any other doctor in any other place, I'd be demanding you present medical power of attorney to be making these calls for him."
"I know," Bucky said. "But I won't let any other doctor see to us anyway."
"I take that as a compliment," Bruce said. "I guess if we're scanning you, come on."
Bucky pointed at Steve before following Bruce out. "You eat. I mean it."
"I will," Steve promised.
Bruce stopped at the nurse's desk long enough to have Jo send for the food, then led Bucky back down to radiology. "How's you chase off Tony and the others?" Bruce asked on their way past the radiology waiting area.
"Told them how tired we were and how cranky that made me," Bucky said. "A cranky Bucky Barnes is a mean thing to deal with."
"And are you still cranky?"
"No, just worried about Steve. I got some sleep."
"With Ativan?"
Bucky looked at him. "How else? I took that third one I turned down earlier."
"Which means you're out for the day," Bruce said, leading him into the room where Bucky would be spending the next hour bored out of his mind. "Consult with me before you take any more."
"Yes, Doctor."
The tracer process was slightly terrifying, as it involved a needle and Bucky couldn't take that 'consult with Bruce' fourth Ativan, but then it was a lot of boredom. Bucky had to struggle to keep from fidgeting. In an act of desperation, he pulled the Soldier back out and let him envelope him in his stillness, his ability to sit like a statue while waiting for his target to move into position.
He had to quickly shove the Soldier away for the actual scan, though. He'd been handy for fighting the boredom and the need to move, but the scan itself probably wouldn't sit well with him. It barely sat well with Bucky.
Praise and hallelujah, Bruce let him have food as soon as he got back to his room and all that was left to do was wait for the results. It was hospital food, and his standards for food were not met, but it was food and Bucky was very hungry, so he set aside his snobbery and devoured his meal.
He offered a bit to Steve, but Steve turned him down, said he'd gotten enough earlier, and that it was obvious that Bucky needed it more anyway.
Bruce returned some time later, again with his charting computer. "It should comfort you both to know that Bucky's scans came back clean," he said, showing them both the scan image. "I believe that once the drug is gone, that activity in your brain will cease, Steve. So it's safe to say there's nothing permanently wrong with you."
That put more relief on Steve's face than Bucky had seen since he woke up from the sedative. "Or with Bucky."
"Or with Bucky," Bruce agreed.
Bucky studied Steve. That had been said with more awareness than anything else since finding him. The levothyroixin hadn't been in his system that long, he couldn't possibly be that close to detox, could he?
Fortunately, Bucky had slept earlier, so if detox was coming yet that day, he'd be awake to help Steve through all of it.
Detox, however, did not start that day, so it was a slow day of frustration and impatient waiting. They were given another meal, this time with more food for Steve. Steve's blood was drawn again and sent off to pathology. They sat on Steve's bed, sometimes looking through the older sketchbook at the pictures they hadn't gotten to the night before, sometimes just playing cards because what else could they do? They were waiting for something that no longer seemed like it was coming any time soon.
They had another meal, a bit more time awake, Bucky talking Steve through the slow process of reestablishing some more recent memories. It wasn't taking, not with the drug still in him, but it gave them something to do before they both gave up and went to sleep.
The next day was different. They had just finished breakfast- Steve with a generous portion that made Bucky decide to start watching Steve like a hawk for signs of withdrawal, since his metabolism was obviously rising -when Sam knocked on their door frame and stepped in.
"Hey, how're my two favorite Wonder Twins?" he asked, trying to sound like nothing was wrong, but Bucky could hear an off tone.
Steve looked at Bucky. "But we're not twins."
"We'd better be your favorites," Bucky snapped at Sam, leaving Steve's statement for the moment. "We're better than those lame comic superheroes." Then he looked at Steve. "It's a joke. The Wonder Twins are a pair of superheroes in a bad comic book world. Sam just thinks he's funny."
"I'm always funny," Sam retorted. "But no, really, how are you guys?"
"Waiting for detox," Bucky said, nodding his head in Steve's direction. "Then working on memory retrieval."
"Long process," Sam said. "Took you awhile."
Bucky covered his face with his hands. "How many times do I have to point out to people that I had a lot more years to work through?"
Sam raised his hands in surrender, leaning against the foot of Bucky's bed. "Fair enough." He looked at Steve. "How you doin,' man?"
Steve stared at him. "You're Sam Wilson, right?"
"Yeah, brother," Sam said. "One of your good friends. Took out Hydra with you, had fun knocking down a few helicarriers with you, take you and your Avenger friends on tours around the Mall. We met because you run stupidly fast."
Steve nodded in a distracted manner. "I've been told. I'm sorry, I don't remember."
Sam looked like he wanted to have Bucky take over, and Bucky almost did, but Sam managed to keep moving. "That's fine. You will. You got a whole set of Avengers to help out. And you dragged me into this group, I hope you know. But it got me a new set of wings, so I suppose I can forgive you."
Steve slowly looked at Bucky for help translating that. Bucky gave Sam a tired look. "You made yourself an Avenger by helping three of them take on Hydra. Don't blame him."
"Except now I'm an official Avenger," Sam protested. "I gotta help take care of things that apparently you two dropped in our laps."
"That's my fault," Bucky said. "I recommended Tony recruit you and just build you new wings. I knew you were up for the job."
"Thanks," Sam said, his usual wit gone. He sounded sincere. "You've come a helluva long way from when I first saw you after you came home."
Bucky almost said something, but Steve's voice saying his name in a weak fashion drew his attention quickly away from Sam. Steve was starting to look pale and was shaking a bit, a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
Fuck. Detox. Just in time.
Bucky flew off his bed and across the room to Steve. "Sam, go get Bruce."
Sam followed him over. "What's going on? What should I tell him?"
"The withdrawal's started," Bucky said, reaching for Steve's hand. "Go get him. Go!"
Sam practically disappeared in a puff of smoke for how fast he moved.
Bucky ripped off the safety rail from Steve's bed- he'd have to apologize to Bruce later -and reached out for Steve. "Come on, Steve, lay down, let's lay down, you'll feel better." Steve had to be guided down from sitting up, rolled onto his side to face Bucky. Sweat was already dripping down his face and he was pale and shaking, like he was suffering heat stroke. It was a cold sweat, though; his skin was cool to the touch when Bucky put his flesh hand on Steve's forehead. The fever hadn't started yet.
The shaking quickly turned to rocking, and Bucky was half bent over, trying to help Steve stay still. The lack of the safety rail posed a problem in that regard, but Bucky wasn't going to leave that thing up for Steve to start hitting his head against if it got that far.
"Bucky."
"I'm right here, Steve," Bucky answered, even though Steve's tone suggested that his brain was far away and nowhere near where Bucky actually was. "I've got you, it's okay."
Steve started to yell his name, flailing and trying to get away from Bucky's grip when Bucky grabbed his arms. "Lemme go, I gotta catch him!"
Aw shit. Bucky was hoping that since it'd been such a relatively small dose that Steve had been given, he'd skip the hallucinations, but apparently not.
Bucky wrapped his arms completely around Steve, keeping him from thrashing too much as Steve continued to yell his name, babbling about catching him, about not looking at him like that because he knew him and there wasn't really anything Bucky could do about that. He tried anyway, continued to assure him it was okay, he was right there.
Bruce came running in seconds later. "How bad is it?" he demanded, stepping up next to Bucky.
"He's hallucinating," Bucky said. "Mostly, he thinks he still has to catch-" he winced as Steve yanked on Bucky's grip and almost pulled free. "He's remembering me falling, and he's remembering us meeting when I didn't know who he was."
Steve switched his movement from side to side to pulling back away completely, right out of Bucky's arms and against the far safety rail, curling up. "Get away, get away!"
Bucky wasn't sure what was going through his head now, but Steve was terrified. "Bruce, you might want to stand back. I don't know if he'll try to hit anyone. I killed an old street bum because my hallucinations made me panic."
"I hope Steve won't go that far," Bruce said in worried understatement. "I didn't think he'd be hallucinating at all."
"Neither did I," Bucky said, crouching down to be at face-level with Steve. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly to him. "Nobody's going to hurt you."
Steve was shaking like a leaf, hands over his ears, eyes shut tight, legs curled up against his chest and rocking. "No, no, leave me alone. Get away."
Bruce gently reached towards Steve. "Steve, it's okay, you're at the Tower," he said.
Steve shot his elbow up to smack away Bruce's hand before curling back up. "Get away," he said again, almost a desperate whisper. "Bucky doesn't know me, what did you do to him?"
Bruce dropped his hand and looked at Bucky. "I don't think I need to know where his mind is right now."
Bucky's lips pursed into a thin line to keep him from yelling some obscenity, and it was only with a huge amount of willpower that he didn't hit something. "Hydra. They got in."
"Deep, it looks like," Bruce said as Steve continued to rock in a little ball. "I suppose this really does mean we'll be pulled from the fight."
Bucky didn't reply to that, focusing in on Steve, gently reaching out his left hand. "I'm right here, Steve," he said, not pushing contact. Steve was hallucinating, it was hard to say how he'd react to either hand Bucky offered, but he hoped that the metal hand would get a better welcome as something distinctly his, and not the flesh hand that could be any living person's.
Steve almost fell off the bed trying to scoot farther back, only partly stopped by the safety rail on the far side of the bed. Still not answering Bruce, Bucky carefully crawled up onto Steve's bed, as much as he could with such little room that Steve left him, and reached down, hauling Steve's back end up farther on the bed. Steve struggled, but Bucky held him tight with his slightly stronger metal arm. He was amazed the bed hadn't gotten decimated beyond the damage Bucky did yet.
"Yeah," he finally answered Bruce, trying to get Steve to rest against him so he could keep him still, keep him from falling or hurting himself. "We're out of the fight. Hydra's in too far."
If he weren't too busy keeping Steve still, those words would've reignited the fire from the lab, but Steve came first. Steve came first in all things. Hydra could pay another day; the other Avengers might even get it done before Bucky and Steve could safely rejoin the team. But for now, Bucky focused on keeping Steve from hurting himself.
"I'll bring in a chair," Bruce said. "I want to stay and observe and help how I can."
Steve wasn't struggling at the moment, just shaking in Bucky's tight grip. Bucky decided he could spare Bruce a glance. "Just don't let the other guy decide Steve needs to be held down with more strength than I have."
Bruce shook his head. "Not a chance," he said, then disappeared.
"Let me go," Steve whispered, his entire body trembling and Bucky heard tears in his voice. "Please, I have to save Bucky."
Bucky closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to cry, Steve's words hurting deep, hitting fear and frustration that he was forcibly not showing. "Easy, Steve," he said, voice no louder. "I'm right here. I promise, I'm right here."
He knew the words would mean little; Steve's head was lost in Hydra somewhere, but he wasn't struggling, at least, just curled up and crying and begging Bucky to let him go find him, as if it were a stranger holding him then.
Bruce returned with a chair from the nurses' desk, a rolling desk chair that didn't look comfortable enough for long term use, but would hopefully last until the hallucinations had passed into what would be a long and fevered sleep.
Steve continued to hallucinate, sometimes simply shaking and mumbling over and over again about wanting someone to get away, other times outright fighting Bucky as if he were personally responsible for whatever Hydra had done.
At one point, Steve managed to push Bucky off the bed and tried to leave. Bruce rolled his chair quickly into Steve's way. "Bucky, get up. Hurry. Please," he said in a panicked staccato, watching Steve hesitate.
Bucky was on his feet in seconds, grabbing Steve from behind and pulling him back away from potentially setting off the other guy. Bruce took a huge risk there that Bucky didn't think he should've. They could argue about it later.
"Steve! Easy!"
Steve howled with anger, pulling with all his strength against Bucky's hold on him. Bucky was forced to kick the back of Steve's knees, sending him to the ground. He wrapped his mechanical arm around Steve's neck. It was slightly stronger than Steve was, it stood a chance of keeping Steve from running off.
Bucky had never dealt with someone else hallucinating, and nobody had been there to help him through his turn at it, so he had no idea if trying to talk Steve down would work, but he tried anyway. "Steve, easy, it's okay, it's me. It's Bucky. I'm all right, I promise. We're together again, Hydra can't get to us here."
Steve started shaking again, the tension in his muscles easing a bit. "I need to save him," he said in a cracked voice. "Let me go, I have to save him. Hydra has him, let me go."
Bucky relaxed his grip a bit. Steve didn't try to run. "It's okay, Steve, Hydra doesn't have me anymore."
His words weren't really reaching Steve, not that Bucky believed, but at least his mind had wandered off to something that didn't require fighting or running.
"Any idea how long this will last?" Bruce asked, standing up. "And should I call in back up for you to hold him when he gets like this?"
"No idea, and no," Bucky said, carefully getting Steve back on his feet. "Come on, Steve, sit down. Bucky will be here soon, I promise." He just assumed that Steve- even if the hallucination faded -wouldn't recognize him with the long hair and metal arm. So he played along with the fantasy Steve's mind was trapped in just enough to keep him calm.
Steve was starting to sway as Bucky guided him back to his bed. "Bucky's coming back?"
"It's not the end of the line," Bucky said, helping him get settled up on the bed and laying on his side. "He'll be here."
Bruce wheeled the chair into the room and over to Bucky. "Here, you'll need this more than me. When it looks like he's sleeping, I'll go sit with Jo. I'll be in easy reach."
Bucky nodded and took the chair, settling on it and wheeling himself up against Steve's bed.
The hallucinating lasted a few more hours, mostly expressed in the form of Steve curled up against the far edge of the bed, staring around the room fearfully and occasionally whispering Bucky's name, or a 'keep away' that sounded surrendered to whatever he thought would happen.
Bucky was hoarse by the time Steve actually settled off into a light sleep from trying to talk him through what was scaring him so much. Bruce checked his vitals with great care, not wanting to wake him up. His temperature had spiked to one-oh-one point three. Bruce ordered a softly wrapped ice pack for his face and not letting him get bundled under a lot of blankets. Steve's IV catheter was still in, though he wasn't connected to an IV line, so Bruce had Marybelle- starting her shift and relieving Jo of hers -reconnect a saline flush and a mild NSAID down the IV line to try to bring down the fever and help Steve's body finish expelling the drug.
That done, Bruce and Marybelle retired to the nurse's station, nothing more they could do but wait. The hallucinations had stopped, the fever had set in, which meant- at least Bucky hoped -that it was just a matter of waiting it out.
Bucky didn't move from Steve's side, sitting forward in the uncomfortable desk chair. He watched Steve closely for a half hour or so, petting his hair, until he was sure that Steve was truly asleep. He sat back in relief once he was, and took a few minutes to just breathe. He needed to breathe, needed a chance to roll his chair away a bit and rest his head on Steve's bed table.
He sat like that for several minutes before he lifted his head and stared at the sketchbooks piled there. The newest one was on top, and one of Steve's pencils was out of the package and broken on the floor, the victim of one of Steve's more violent hallucinations. Bucky picked it up, looking at it for a moment, before turning his gaze to the sketchbook. He remembered Steve telling him he was drawing out his memories. Curiosity compelled him to want to look.
Bucky knew that Steve hated it when his unfinished sketches were seen, and he had no way to know if anything Steve might've drawn was done, but maybe seeing what Steve had been drawing might help Bucky know how to help Steve the best once the fever passed and he woke up.
The broken halves of the pencil were tucked into their package and the sketchbook opened.
There were several pages of their apartment in DC near the beginning, but the sketchbook was just old enough that those images might not've been from yesterday. Bucky couldn't help but lift one corner of his lips in a smile. He missed that place, and Steve apparently had a touch of affection for it, to have been drawing it. Steve was rarely so nice to pictures of places and things and people he didn't like.
The bedroom was drawn with great care, and Bucky drew in a deep breath. He missed the closeness of sharing a room with Steve, but both had observed that their new beds wouldn't fit in the same room anymore and that it was time they both tried to cut the stitches keeping them surgically attached at the hip. And while at the time, Bucky hadn't known Maria would become part of his life as she had, he had a feeling Sharon might move into that capacity and Steve would need his own room to share with her. It'd just been time.
With Hydra haunting Steve's head, that closeness might have to become reality again. He'd talk to someone about switching the queens out for twins and moving the beds into one of the rooms again. They could do something with the spare room this time, maybe a place for Steve to dedicate to art, or split the room with Bucky's tools and designs.
That was for later, though. Steve might yet come through the detox with Hydra gone.
He flipped pages, finding a few pictures of Sharon, though it was easy to see that the details of her face were lost to Steve's missing memories, at least for the moment. There was a picture of Maria, hair down in curls and in her dress she'd worn to the Christmas ball. Bucky wasn't sure why that memory had stuck, but he hadn't understood what had come up in his own brain when he was going through this, either.
The sketches got increasingly shaky as he went. There was a picture of Mario in there, and it made Bucky smile. He may not remember Sharon directly, but her thwarting him in a video game that was they played as a couple had stuck. Good. That meant he had a decent chance at remembering her faster than without that memory trigger.
There was a picture of Bucky on the next page, one he couldn't place when it'd happened. He was in uniform, but his mask was gone, and he was scruffier than he usually let himself be. He might ask Steve about when that picture was from, if it wasn't just a random sketch.
The second to last picture made Bucky freeze up, his own face staring up at him in terror, a deep cavern below him, Steve's hand reaching for him. The fall. The terrifying distance from the ground, the feeling of gravity pulling him down into death's jaws. He closed his eyes, flipping to the next page before he decided he needed another Ativan. That was a memory he hadn't expected to see in a sketch, had hoped that Steve wouldn't remember that vividly until after he felt himself again.
The last picture, the pages behind it blank, made Bucky have to squeeze his eyes tight to push away tears. The doctors, spattered in blood and gathered around him, shadowed heavily by an overhead light, the lines unsteady with a slight wobble telling of how much fear was in that memory. Bucky could only guess that the blood was mixed into the memory of the doctors by Bucky's murder of them, the two closely woven events blurred into one image.
He put the sketchbook back in its place, folded his arms on Steve's bed next to him, and laid his head down on them to rest.
Steve making a noise that sounded vaguely like words woke Bucky up and he sat up, blinking away a sleep he hadn't meant to have fallen into, and stared at Steve.
Steve had pulled his covers over him tightly, had put aside his ice pack that was probably no longer cold. "I'm cold, Bucky."
Bucky's breath caught in his throat. He heard Steve in that, heard a recognition that hadn't been there before, and he was crying before he knew it, pulling Steve into a tight hug. "You have a fever," he said quietly against Steve's neck. Steve didn't return the hug beyond reaching his hands out from under the blanket to grip Bucky's shirt. "You're at the Tower. Hydra drugged you."
"I know," Steve whispered, and gripped Bucky's shirt tighter. "They made me forget you. I never wanted to forget you." Bucky could hear the same tears in Steve's voice that was in his own.
"It wasn't your fault," Bucky assured him. "It's Hydra. It was their fault, not yours." He sat back just a little, against Steve's protest, against a whine and a tightening of Bucky's shirt in Steve's fists. Bucky pressed his right wrist to Steve's forehead. "You still have a fever. I'll call in Bruce."
Steve looked up at him with an almost pathetic look on his face, one that broke Bucky's black little heart. "Don't go. I don't want to see a stranger when you come back."
Bucky swallowed tightly, pulling him back into a hug. "You won't," he promised. "The drug's out, you just need to get over the fever. You're not going to forget again. You'll recognize Bruce this time, too. You just need a bit more care, okay?"
Steve let go of Bucky's shirt with one hand, groping around where the broken safety rail was, pulling up a remote still attached by a thick cord. He hit the red button on it. "Call button."
Bucky stared at the control. "Even when you're sick, you're better at this than I am."
That got a small smile out of Steve, then his free hand rejoined his other, balled into Bucky's shirt. "Don't you go anywhere this time."
Bucky rested his head on Steve's. "Not even to my own bed so I can sleep?"
"Not yet?"
"All right."
Bruce came in seconds later, announcing his presence at the doorway with a loud clearing of his throat to avoid spooking anyone. Steve looked out from his spot against Bucky, head pressed into Bucky's chest. "I don't want more medicine," he said, sounding firm on that issue. Bucky didn't blame him.
Bruce took Steve's tone- he might've heard what Bucky had -as a sign to walk closer. "Not even Advil? Might help bring the fever down faster."
Steve ducked back down into the bed, still holding onto Bucky's shirt.
Bucky reached down and took hold of Steve's hands. "Steve you're still sick. Let Bruce take care of you. He's a fellow Avenger, he helped get us out of that lab. He's not going to hurt you."
He wasn't sure what part of what he'd said that works, but Steve let go of Bucky to straighten out his hand with the IV catheter in it. "Just Advil?"
Bruce nodded. "Just Advil," he promised. "I'd prefer something more powerful, but I'm not going to do anything you don't approve of." He grabbed Steve's empty water glass and stepped back over to the door. "Marybelle, would you refill this and bring some Advil, please?"
"Should we tell anyone he's awake?" Bucky asked after Marybelle had taken the glass and Bruce had rejoined him at Steve's bedside.
"That's up to him," Bruce said, then looked at Steve. "Would you like us to let the others know you're awake? I can tell them you're not up for visitors, but your friends might want to know you're okay. Everyone's been worried."
Steve frowned. "Who all is here? I remember the girls, and Tony and Sam, but I can't remember if I've seen anyone else here."
"Thor showed up," Bruce said. "I don't know how much he's been told about your condition. I haven't left the medical center. I slept in the bed in the room next door when I was tired earlier."
"Tell the girls?" Steve said, uncertainty in his tone. "They were with us at the lab. And I think Sharon would want to know I kinda remember her again. A lot of details are gone, but she's back in my head too."
Bucky smiled and rested his head against the side of Steve's. "That's going to make her happy, you know," he said.
Steve heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I hadn't meant to forget anyone."
"We know, Steve," Bruce said. "It wasn't your fault." He glanced up, something everyone but Tony seemed to do a lot when contacting JARVIS. "JARVIS, will you call Maria and Sharon?" he said. "Let them know that Steve's awake and feeling better, just coming down off the fever."
"Of course, Doctor," JARVIS said. "Should I inform Mister Stark? He has been asking for regular updates."
Bruce looked at Steve, who shrugged, looking vaguely exasperated; a good sign, it meant that Tony was familiar to Steve enough to know the proper way to react to him. Bruce glanced back up. "Yes, please. Tell them no visitors, he's still sick, but he's awake and reacting to stimuli properly."
"I will do so," JARVIS said.
"Thank you." He repeated his thank you to Marybelle when she returned with a full glass of ice water and a bottle of Advil. He walked back over to Steve and handed him the glass. "Here, ice water. That'll help cool your core, bring down your fever." Then he handed over the Advil. "Same with this, this'll bring down the fever."
Steve sat up enough to take both, only taking two Advil at Bruce's advice, then set the water and bottle of medicine aside and pulled himself down under the blankets again.
"You should both sleep," Bruce said. "Steve, you're still sick, and Bucky, you need better rest than sleeping in a chair."
Bucky didn't disagree. He merely looked at Steve. "I'm sleeping in here, if you need me, just say something. I'll hear you."
Steve didn't look like he wanted Bucky that far away from him, but he agreed that Bucky needed proper sleep, saying he'd be okay. He was tired and cold and wanted to go back to sleep. Bucky wasn't sure if he actually wanted to or not; Hydra was still semi-in there, he could tell, but they might have been flushed out enough that he could sleep somewhat easily. So Bucky agreed and bid him goodnight, pulling off his boots and hopping up onto his bed to sleep.
Morning came at an astronomical rate, if how tired Bucky was was anything to go by. He yawned and stretched, looking over at Steve before getting up. Steve didn't look as pale, nor as restless in his sleep. In fact, he looked healthy. Although he clearly needed a shower. So did Bucky. And he wanted a change of clothes. But he couldn't go do that until Steve had woken and let him go. Bucky wasn't going to leave his side unless he was sure Steve would be fine with it.
So he got up and grabbed his note book and pencil and started working, or trying to. He more looked over notes he'd taken off and on the last couple days and wondered what the hell he'd written down. It was all nonsense.
Well, that page was getting torn out.
"Bucky?"
Bucky looked up to see Steve waking up. "Hey, Steve. Feeling better?"
Steve pushed himself up into a sitting position, quiet as he evaluated his answer. "Yeah. But I think I want a shower." He nose scruched up. "And new bed sheets. Man, my sweat stinks."
Bucky snorted and laughed, nearly dropping his notebook. "God, I love you. I missed your dumb ass."
Steve turned somber. "I spent that whole time missing you," he said. He took a deep breath. "Is that what it was like for you? Not understanding who you were?"
Bucky set aside his notebook. "Yeah. For a month. But you only lasted a couple days. Probably would've been less if not for the slowed metabolism. You don't have anything to worry about, stuff will probably come back quicker for you. Now go shower, I'll have Jo get you clean scrubs and fresh bed sheets." When Steve looked reluctant, Bucky gave him a weary look. "Steve, I need to shower and change clothes too. I haven't since we got here. We both need showers and clean clothes. Go on, I'll be right back down."
Steve turned on the bed to get down. He eyed the safety rail on the floor. "Was that you or me?"
"Me."
"Bucky."
"I had to get to you!" Bucky protested. "Now go shower." He paused. "Do you want me to have the girls come down after we're both cleaned up? I think the girlfriends would like to see us both okay."
Steve didn't answer for such a long moment that Bucky thought he wasn't going to at all. "Yeah," he finally said. "As long as it's after we're cleaned."
"You'll probably take less time than me," Bucky said. "I have more hair to wash. Although we both could stand a shave. You actually are starting to get stubbly."
Steve rubbed his chin. "Yeah. I'll ask Jo for a razor before I shower." He looked at Bucky. "You'd better get back down here as soon as you can."
"I will," Bucky promised, then pulled on his boots and headed out. He paused long enough to let Jo know that Steve wanted a shower and clean bed sheets, then headed up to the apartment.
It was suddenly strange, being separated at all from Steve. He could already foresee the mutual codependence coming back between them and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand, his worry and anger over Steve and what had been done to him made him very glad to become Steve's personal shadow again, but he knew it wasn't healthy, and was more because of Steve's state of mind than Bucky's own.