InsaneJournal

Who: Christine, Bucky, Peter Q
What: check up at the clinic and Peter barges in.
When: recently
Rating/Warnings: green, Peter Quill being...Peter Quill.

“...and that’s it.” Christine placed a cotton ball in the crook of Bucky’s arm, putting pressure on it as she placed the last tube of blood back into the case. “Hold down on that for a while, okay, while I get this all organized.”

Once she could move her hand, she stepped back and looked down at the checklist at hand. Working with Dr. Banner -- Bruce -- had been fun. He was professional, understanding and more importantly, he was rational. She could discuss things with him without any posturing or ego coming into place. Together, they’d built up the clinic and created various procedures for those that were entering. Basic administrative tasks such as first visit steps, and what to do for follow-ups. She’d even thought about getting her anesthesia specialization, something she’d always wanted to do. It would come in handy here.

Looking through her list, she gave a perfunctory nod. “Right. I think that was it.” Other than the safe sex talk, but she’d get there. Sitting back down on her stool, she tilted her head and looked at Bucky. “The last thing is the wellness check. How are you doing? You only just got here, right?”

Bucky was holding the cotton ball down like she told him to, but managed to shrug a shoulder in response to that line of questioning. He wasn't the Bucky Barnes of Brooklyn anymore, that smirking charmer who was talking dames into dates with him and his best friend. He was the Bucky in the aftermath of having some brainwashing triggers scrubbed out of his mind. He was more stoic and reserved, weighed down by everything he remembered and all the things he had done.

"Yeah, I just got here," he said, as though his words were slowly measured out before he spoke. To answer that other question, he added, "I'm doing."

Christine has no frame of reference for Bucky prior to this moment. From what she can tell from the physical, he’s been hurt. Badly. And probably over and over again. The missing arm was the first clue, but the rest is in his demeanor. This was a man who had never relaxed, and the tension was everywhere.

She was surprised he hadn’t had an aneurysm yet.

“Doing is good. It’s better than not doing.” She crosses her legs and leans forward. “But why do I get the sense that you’re only doing the bare minimum? Are you sleeping?”

"I sleep," was Bucky's response.

As to when and how well? That was a different story. One that he wasn't really willing to divulge, since he usually woke up after dreaming of someone he killed, or missions he was sent out on, or training. Instead of elaborating, he left it as a simple statement from someone who was like a book that could be cracked open but many of the pages were stuck together.

Christine's expression didn't change, even if she slightly arched a well maintained eyebrow.

"Uh huh."

Introverts were so tricky. Put her against a talker, and she'd wear them down, easy. But a person who barely spoke? Yikes.

"Your address on the paperwork lists a motel." In a not so good part of town, she thought to herself. "Have you thought of moving to 30 Warren? It's a very nice building. Modern. Screams Tony Stark, but the beds seem nice." Not that she would know at all, considering she'd only been to Bruce's place.

Bucky didn't need to know that.

He learned from the best: Russian HYDRA operatives were notoriously tight lipped, and they didn't like subjects talking back to them. It was safest to keep quiet and stick to facts during debriefings.

As she spoke, something behind Bucky's eyes seemed to flicker. It was all quickly covered up before he answered. Not that there was any facial expression to go along with it.

There was half a minute where he stared at her as she looked at him. Thirty seconds that felt like they stretched into an eternity.

"I like having my own place," he quietly replied. She wasn't the only one that wasn't volunteering information. He left out that it was easier to move around in a city, rather than stay in one place.

"That's fair," she responded, sitting back a bit on her stool. Unfortunately, she miscalculated and wobbled, barely catching herself in time.

"Woops!" Christine gave a little laugh. "It's funny -- in the operating room, I'm on fire. Razor sharp reflexes, precision skills like a boss. Outside?" She shook her head. "Clumsy. Anyways, where were we?"

The only change in his expression was a small smile in response. It could be noted that when she wobbled, his hands twitched, both of them, including the metal one, as though he was going to start moving to catch her. When she righted herself, they relaxed and continued holding onto the edge of the exam table with a loose grip. He wasn't uncomfortable at all. He was simply present. That was the general gist of everything about him. He was there.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder a little and said in a low voice, "You were asking questions as part of the exam."

Succinct, isn't he?

Christine smiled widely. Good, he was listening. “Yeah, I’m always asking questions. Part of the charm that is me.” She looked at him and noted that yes, he was present. He was watching her at least, and even if he spoke quietly (and rarely), he seemed to be of sound mind. She could go through the Beck’s Depression Inventory, or other mental health checks, if she needed to. Maybe she’d just convince him to come back regularly.

“You’re welcome here anytime, alright?”

"Thanks," Bucky said, taking it as his cue to leave. The sooner he got out of Stark's place, the better. He was already sliding off where he was sitting on the table and thinking that he didn't have very many reasons to come back, not that he knew of. And at least now he could put his shirt back on.

It would be a while before he'd be cracking jokes with anyone like he did with Steve. And he didn't mind Christine. She seemed nice enough. Medical stuff though?

It was safe to say that he had seen enough of that before, that he wasn't keen on seeing that much more of it in the here and now.

"Got anymore questions before I go?" he asked, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

Christine shook her head and stood up. “No, I think that’s about it, unless you have any questions for me. It’s not fair that I’m always -- “

The front door of the clinic flew open and a disheveled looking Peter Quill stormed through the doors. Christine had had very little involvement with Tony’s assistant, other than maybe signing a paper or two for deliveries. From the way he looked right now though, she instantly was worried.

“Are you alright?”

Peter was dying.

Legit, completely and utterly dying. He’d had way too much to drink the night before and coffee just wasn’t doing it for him.

Considering he’d heard through the grapevine that Dr. Banner and Tony solved cancer, there had to be a cure for a hangover by now.

“Oh man,” he said, shaking his head. “Doc. You gotta help me. I -- oh hey, look at you, big guy!” Peter had absolutely no idea who Bucky was, had never even heard the name before. Had he been on the network before? Probably, but Peter was touch and go on that thing. There were days when he refreshed obsessively, and other days where he ignored it until he needed something out of it.

Peter gave a low whistle. “Damn. You got some abs! I bet you could grate cheese on that! Can we test it? I’ve always wanted to try!”

There was a long, long, long, long, incredibly long moment where time seemed to stretch out into infinity and beyond, before Bucky opened his mouth and answered that question.

"No," he said, and then Bucky eyed Christine as though wondering if she was going to be ok with a patient that seemed jacked up and haggard at the same time.

Clearing her throat, Christine put her hands on her hips and tilted her head at Peter. This wasn’t the first time she had to deal with someone that was an idiot, even if now she was laughing at the idea of grating cheese on someone. “That would smell so bad,” she responded. “Now, can I help you, Mr. Quill? You’re interrupting.”

“Huh?” Peter looked around and realized that yeah, he probably was. “Okay, but this is an emergency doc. I know you gotta have something for hangovers. I met a bottle named Tequila last night -- okay, several and I don’t know how it happened but I fell into an orgy and everything is sore.”

He looked at her solemnly.

“Everything.”

"Sounds like you did it to yourself," Bucky interjected, not even nodding or jabbing a thumb over at Christine, although his next statement indicated her. "And now you expect her to fix it."

Bucky looked at Peter solemnly. As though his soul was a deep dark abyss that someone could stare into, and that abyss would stare back until the other person flinched first.

If there was one thing Peter was a pro at, it was ignoring things that he felt had nothing to do with him. Like this staring contest thing, although he was surprised to see how full of nothing the other man’s eyes were.

“I mean, technically some girl named Patience did it to me, which is fine. There was lube.”

Apparently, the stare of intense nothingness acted as a confessional of sorts. Bucky looked over at Christine and began to speak in a low voice, under his breath.

"Whatever Patience tried to stuff him full of," and that was when Bucky paused like maybe his own thoughts stumbled for a second or two, "I don't think it worked. Pain in the ass busted right on in here."

Literally. Not figuratively. Bucky didn't even need to put those two and two's together. And yet there they were, and a brief glimmer of sarcasm was shining through.

It was gone in an instant when he flatly announced, "I'd better go now."

It was clear that there was going to be some uncomfortable questions and answers between the doc and her new patient.

On the outside, Christine stayed rather stoic. Inside, she was dying and wished badly that patient-doctor confidentiality wasn’t so ingrained in her. This was gold. Maybe she’d talk to Stephen later about it. It didn’t count if he knew everything before it happened, right?

When Bucky spoke, she looked over at him. “If you’re done, sure. Otherwise, I’ll kick this one out, since he doesn’t look like he’s dying of a perforated bowel, or any inner hematomas and remind him that while this is a walk-in clinic, that doesn’t mean his needs are more important than anyone else’s.”

A pause.

“Unless he’s practically decapitated or gushing blood. Those would be acceptable excuses.”

Peter had the decency to look slightly chagrined. But not much. After all, buddy was about to leave anyways ...but the doctor looked like she could hurt him, and he realized that since he’d just admitted to an orgy and crazy sexual things, she might demand he take an STD test.

He really wasn’t into sounding and in no rush for that to happen.

“Fiiiiine.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll wait outside.” He stomped loudly to the door and flung it open, before closing it behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Christine said. “I’ll have a conversation with that guy later. He’s a real character … although, can I be honest? I’m trying to picture what Patience looks like, and I’m imagining some kind of Swedish bodybuilder…”

Bucky seemed to be mulling that over. He wasn't looking at her while he did that either.

"...if she's six foot two and has shoulders wider than mine," he replied with a fleeting smile. It didn't last long and it seemed they were done when Bucky nodded and grabbed his jacket. "Thanks again, doc."

Was that a genuine smile? Christine was shocked into laughter. The guy looked like he could loosen up a little bit. She could see the trauma in his eyes though and knew it wasn’t as simple as that. This one would need a bit more, but thankfully, it looked like there was a solid team out there to help him out. If he would let them.

“Christine,” she said. “You can call me Christine. That yahoo out there gets to call me Dr. Palmer while I shove a q-tip up his dick. He’s probably teeming with diseases. Gotta keep the public healthy, right?” She gave a sweet smile. “Have a great day, Bucky, and let Peter know he can come in on your way out, okay?”

Oh yeah. Peter was getting ALL the tests.

"I'll have a great day now," Bucky said, walking out of the room and stopping in front of Peter.

"Dr. Palmer'll see you now," he told him. He managed to keep a straight face even though he knew what was coming. Better someone else than him, and he didn't want to tip that guy off and send him running the other way. "Don't worry. She's gentle."

He gave a sarcastically snappy salute with one hand and started walking toward the elevator.