*** MCU ***
After receiving instructions from T'Challa, Steve half-carried Bucky onto the quinjet.
"Okay, buddy. I'm just going to set you down here for a moment."
Bucky barely nodded. Steve frowned at the lack of response.
Once he was sure his friend wouldn't fall over, Steve rushed to set up the small medical area. He pulled out the table that could double as a bed and spread out a couple of blankets. He then removed the small pillow that was stashed in one of the hidden compartments. He also readied some alcohol wipes and bandages.
He raced back over to Bucky's side and gingerly helped him over to and up onto the table. He had never been in this position before. Back in the day, he was always the one receiving care and being tended to ... by Bucky.
"Oh, how the tables have turned, huh, Buck?" Steve quietly asked his unconscious friend as he grabbed a couple of alcohol wipes.
When he turned to tend to Bucky, he froze.
It was like he was really seeing his friend for the first time in 70 years. Steve couldn't take his eyes off the left shoulder. Looking at the burned edges and twisted wires, all the damage to what remained of the metal arm, his heart sank.
Bucky had lost his arm. His friend was disabled. He almost wanted to laugh at the idea that this was just now dawning on him, but seeing all that really made it hit home. It reminded him of the WWI veterans he had encountered back in Brooklyn all those years ago. A few made it out of the grand war fully intact, but some had lost an arm or leg. There was even one neighbor who had lost an eye. Some would talk about their experiences, but most wouldn't.
"I'm so sorry, Bucky."
He swiped away the few tears that leaked out. He had to be strong.
As he went through the process of cleaning the cuts and bruises, his mind wandered back to his first encounter with the Winter Soldier. It was hard to ignore the metal arm. The bright, shiny silver with the red star on the shoulder was in stark contrast to the black of the uniform the soldier wore.
His speed and proficiency with all types of weapons, let alone the power of the metal arm, made him a challenging foe. He was the first opponent to really equal Captain America and came closest to beating him. There were times Steve had been scared that he might lose.
Then to find out it was his long-lost friend? The shock was almost unbearable.
Steve shook his head in an attempt to stop dwelling on the past and refocus on the present. Now, he seemed to have his friend back ... mostly.
For Bucky to finally be free of what Hydra did to him, there was still the challenge of removing the trigger words. Then again, could he really ever be free of them? The arm would always be a reminder of Bucky's suffering.
Steve didn't want to think about that too much. He knew he would be there for Bucky through whatever was to come; whatever would be necessary to regain some semblance of a normal life, if there was ever such a thing in this day and age.
Steve had confidence that his friend would get there. It would just take time. He hoped it wouldn't take too long, but now, with leaving the shield behind, he had all the time in the world.
"Remember, Buck ... to the end of the line. And we aren't there yet."
*** THE END ***