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Bucky tightened his grip on the blanket Sam had draped over his shoulders. He was cold, but the blanket didn’t provide much warmth over the thin hospital gown he was wearing. He was so tired. He wanted to close his eyes and curl up and go to sleep but he couldn’t. His body ached from being poked and prodded and … tortured, his mind helpfully supplied. There really wasn’t any other way to describe what he’d been subjected to over the past week while he’d been held in an underground research facility. His eyes were dry and burning from sleep deprivation, but there was no way he was going to let himself rest while sitting in the back of an SUV listening to Sam argue with some suit who wanted to put Bucky into another hospital.
“It’s protocol. He needs to be in a hospital under observation.”
“With all due respect, sir, I disagree. The last thing he needs is to be in a clinical environment. We just need a room, a comfortable bed, and some warm food. Oh, and a stocked first aid kit. Whatever medical care Sgt Barnes needs, I can cover.”
“There are greater concerns. We don’t have a clear indication of his mental state, and we cannot take that risk.”
“He is not a prisoner,” Sam ground out. “He is a victim, and I will not retraumatize him because you’re scared. I know him better than anyone, and hospitalization is not the answer.”
“If he hurts someone….”
“He won’t!” Sam snapped.
Nobody was asking him what he wanted. Sam had asked how he was doing, but he’d only responded that he was fine to walk. He appreciated Sam’s confidence in him, but he wasn’t worried. Now that he wasn’t being pumped full of drugs, he knew he would walk out of any facility they put him in. He was nowhere near full strength, but there was no way in hell he was going to willingly let himself be hospitalized.
His mind drifted as the voices from the front seat became nothing more than a low buzzing. He floated along, blinking back to awareness when Sam opened his door and put his hand on his shoulder.
“Hey Buck, you with me?”
He looked at Sam and waited.
“We’re gonna crash here for the night. Got us a room in temporary lodging. They’re going to send over some food and supplies.”
He could feel everyone watching and waiting for his response. He wanted to get away from all of them, but he knew it wouldn’t happen until he got out of the car and into the room. He eased out of the seat, allowing Sam to take hold of his arm to steady him. He felt so exposed in this damn blanket and bare feet. But he’d been through worse. What a shitty measure of his life. No matter how terrible his experiences are, he could always honestly say, he’d been through worse.
“You good?” Sam whispered.
Bucky blinked and focused on Sam. He was hovering nearby with a slight frown pulling at his lips. Oh yeah, the room. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment and began to shuffle forward. He allowed Sam to lead him up to their room.
It was the standard lodging found on most military bases, similar to a motel room. It was certainly nicer than some places he’d stayed. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He didn’t have any other clothes. He was dirty. He needed to clean up. He needed…. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Easy. It’s just me. I called your name a few times,” Sam told him. “Here, why don’t you sit for a minute?” Sam gestured to the sofa.
Bucky shook his head. “I need to clean up. I don’t have clothes.”
“I know. They’re bringing some over. Do you want to take a shower? The clothes should be here by the time you get out.”
Bucky nodded and then made his way over to the bathroom. Once he’d closed the door, he dropped the blanket and pulled off the hospital gown. He stared at himself in the mirror, the harsh lights accentuating every cut and bruise on his body. Of course, he’d been here before. He wondered when this would stop being his life. He rubbed his hand across his jaw and felt the stubble from his beard that was coming in. He didn’t mind not being clean shaven, if it was his choice.
He could hear Sam talking. Someone was dropping off the food and clothes. As if on autopilot, he started the shower and stepped under the hot spray. He relished the burn against his skin, knowing this type of heat was different from the electricity that had been shot through his body. The cuts and abrasions stung, but it wasn’t enough to wash off the film that still covered his skin. He scrubbed with soap. The smell of that building wouldn’t abate. He stayed in there until the water ran cold and yet he still couldn’t get clean. He could feel the needles pricking into him. Their latex covered hands prodding and touching him. He kept scrubbing.
It was only when the water stopped that he noticed Sam standing next to him.
“Come on, let’s get you into some warm clothes.”
He stared at the towel Sam held out to him. He knew he was supposed to take it, but he was so very tired. He lifted his arm and gripped the towel. He should be embarrassed. He was standing naked in front of Sam, barely able to take care of himself. He dropped his head and made an attempt to cover himself.
“Is it ok if I help?” Sam asked, picking up another towel.
Bucky gave a slow nod. Sam always wanted to help, and he trusted Sam. He didn’t want Sam to see him like this, but it was too late. A few minutes later, Sam was declaring him dry enough and securing a towel around his waist.
“Got a fully stocked first aid kit out there. How about we tend to some of these cuts?”
“Serum,” Bucky mumbled.
“You know how I feel about that,” Sam replied in a soft voice. “I understand if you don’t want to be touched. It’s your choice.”
None of it really hurt. Bucky looked over at the mirror again. His skin was bright pink with dark bruises mingled in. He brought his hand up and ran his finger over a scrape on his side. Oh yeah, he remembered how he got that one.
“Bucky?”
“You can do it.”
Sam reached over and took hold of his hand and gently pulled it away from his side. He gave him a little squeeze before releasing him. “I’ll be right back.”
Sam was efficient. He never took long to patch him up. Bucky never really felt he needed it, but Sam always insisted. He was used to Sam’s hands touching him. Sam never hurt him. He’d never been this exposed around him, though. He felt vulnerable yet still safe.
“This is weird.”
Sam chuckled. “Consider it payback for that time I fell into that bramble bush, and you had to pick those thorns out of my lower back.”
“You weren’t naked, and you were still a baby about it.”
“And I know you could have been gentler about it. See how I’m doing this? Easy hands. And we’re done. Let’s get you into some clothes.”
Bucky stared at the clothes Sam handed him. It was better than what he’d been wearing, and it was better than just being in a towel, but he couldn’t bring himself to take them. It wasn’t a hospital gown, but it was still the drawstring pants and t-shirt given to inpatients.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t think. Hold up.” He put the clothes aside and then began rummaging through his bag. “It’s not much, but I think this will fit comfortably.” He pulled out a pair of basketball shorts, boxer briefs, and a zip hoodie. “You good with wearing my underwear?”
“Fuck.” Bucky let out a soft laugh that ended in a small sob. “It’s fine. Thanks.”
“Get dressed. I got some soup for you.”
He managed to get the clothes on without incident and then joined Sam at the small table. His stomach twisted as he saw the small container of chicken and rice soup.
“When was the last time you ate something?”
Bucky’s mind drifted again. He tried to sort through it all, but he couldn’t remember actually being fed while he’d been held. He didn’t think he would have trusted anything they gave him. He had to have had water, right?
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “Just eat what you can, and then you can get some rest. You look like you’re ready to keel over.”
Bucky took a good look at Sam. He looked tired. There were bags under his eyes and tight lines around his mouth. That was his worried look. How long had Sam been looking for him? He wanted to ask, but his tongue felt heavy, and he didn’t think he could focus on a conversation right now.
His stomach tolerated several sips of soup before it started cramping. His hand shook as he tried to take another bite.
“Don’t force it. You’re exhausted. Rest for a bit, and then if we need to, we’ll get you something else.”
“Toothbrush?”
“Yep.” Sam hopped up and gathered up a toothbrush and toothpaste for him. He started storing away the food as Bucky headed back towards the bathroom.
Once he was finished, Bucky stared at his reflection in the mirror again. He knew if he asked Sam for a razor, he would have one. Sam was good like that. Always prepared. Bucky was as well, in a different way. They complimented each other. That’s what Sarah had said.
“All right, old man. Let’s get you to bed.” Sam didn’t touch or nudge him, just waited for Bucky to make a move.
The comforter and sheets were already turned back. He’d done that once for Sam when he’d been so exhausted after a mission that he could barely stay upright. They were close, closer than most. Bucky didn’t know what that meant. Whenever he thought about it, he could never land on a clear answer. He certainly didn’t know what to make of all this. Sam was a caretaker, and Bucky had been hurt, but he didn’t think Sam would do all this for just anyone. And there was no way Bucky would voluntarily let anyone see him like this. Just Sam. Only Sam.
He crawled under the covers, but it felt wrong. He hadn’t been in a comfortable bed for over a week. His body hadn’t actually been able to rest. He was so tired. His limbs felt weighed down, and his eyes burned with every blink.
“You good?”
Bucky looked up at Sam. Fatigue was weighing him down as well. Bucky could see it. “I’m good,” he replied, hoping Sam would believe him and take some time for himself. It seemed as if he did because he nodded and then took his turn in the bathroom.
He tried. He really did. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back there. Despite the lingering smell of the food, the sound of the shower running, the softness of the bed, and the feel of the clothes on his skin, he couldn’t stop thinking he was there. He tried to think of other things, his apartment, visiting Delacroix, being out on the boat with Sam. But he was too exhausted. His mind kept drifting, and every time he got close to falling asleep, his brain would panic, and he would jerk awake.
“You’re safe.”
Sam. When did he come out of the bathroom? He must have actually dozed off for a bit, just long enough for his body to slip into that fight or flight response. He let out a soft whimper as he wondered how long it would take him to get past this.
“Hey, you’re ok,” Sam murmured.
“I… I can’t,” Bucky mumbled. “I’m still there. Sam, I’m so tired, but I’m still there.”
Sam hesitated a moment, and then Bucky thought he might actually cry when Sam started walking towards the end of the bed. Sam came around to the other side, lifted the covers and slid in next to him.
“Is this all right?”
Tears slid from Bucky’s eyes as he nodded.
“All right, then. Come here.” Sam held out his arms.
They had fallen asleep near each other before, but never in the same bed. And certainly not like this. Bucky scooted over and rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, allowing himself to be pulled into the warm embrace. This was everything that place wasn’t. He felt so raw. That wasn’t anything new, but this was. Having someone here to help soothe all his aches. His tears were a steady stream now, creating a wet spot on Sam’s t-shirt.
“It’s ok,” Sam promised. “You can rest now.”