Up on the top floor of the Avengers tower, as it was affectionately named, they were all gathered and cleaning wounds and checking over one another. Bruce was fine, Clint was bruised, Natasha definitely had the makings of wounds that needed stitches, Tony was making a drink and totally fine except for a bruised cheek bone, Thor was in Asgard, and Steve had several small lacerations on his right arm and a broken collar bone.
Bucky, one of the two newest members to the Avengers, sat gruffly on the couch and stared out the window in his normal way. Morgan, the other newest member, rose from her spot on the stone floor overlooking the city and padded on bare feet over to Bucky's couch. Steve noted with interest that he didn't tense or move away like he did around anyone else except him. He kept an eye on them as he accepted his drink from Tony.
Bucky flicked his dark gaze in her direction and started a bit when she held out a hand.
"What?" He sounded defensive, and like he was getting ready to bolt. Her quiet voice responded with no anger or harshness, just gentle reassurance.
"Your hand is wounded. Will you let me help?" Her hand remained steady and welcoming, offering the help he needed. Bucky stared at it as if he expected the answers to all the questions in the universe. After several seconds of staring, he looked up and met her open, bright eyes, and settled his flesh hand into her palm.
The fingers of her other hand came up to gently inspect the wounds, and she knows Bucky is watching her every move.
"You have glass in this wound." She is referring to the four-inch long gash along the top of his hand, barely missing the tendon that connects to his middle finger. "I can see it right now, and I'm going to pull it out. Hold still, and this will not hurt." Bucky stills, and her delicate fingers gently pull the inch of glass out of his hand smoothly. She sets it on the lamp table nearby, and inspects the wound again.
"I'll clean this, bandage it, and you're done." She says, giving him a soft smile before setting to the task before her. Steve watches as he sips his beverage, sees as Bucky's confused gaze takes in her long hair in a braid over her shoulder, the scars along her arms and exposed shoulders, the sweats and tank top, but the wings that are folded behind her really capture his attention. The massive, black feathered wings are two feet above her head when folded, and they are slightly shifted to the side to lay over the side of the couch as she tends to his hand.
"There! You're done!" Morgan says with a smile, giving his now bandaged hand a gentle, get-well pat. Bucky blinks, but nods his gratitude. "Do you have any more wounds?"
Steve watches as the man hesitates, wondering if he can trust this girl enough to see the scars of what they did to him, and then seems to reach a decision upon looking at her scars again.
"Yes. It's on my back." He turns, and shucks the vest that he is wearing, revealing the mass of scars, skin and muscles that make up his back, and she makes no sound of shock, nothing. Instead, Morgan's gentle hands press a wet cloth to clean the wound on his hip, and Steve watches as her other hand comes up to touch to a scar nearby the wound.
Bucky jerks, but doesn't move away, and her delicate fingers trace along one scar onto another, but curiously, she doesn't go near the metal arm. The man's shoulder twitches as her fingers trace along a scar near his neck, but his blue eyes remain focused out the window, watching a helicopter fly by.
Morgan removes the cloth from the wound, inspecting it more closely, as she had now gotten rid of the excess dried blood and dirt. She hisses at the sight, and sighs when Bucky stiffens in a jerking motion.
"What is it?" His voice is tense and low, and he is ready to bolt at any second. Morgan realizes that she made an error and has alarmed Bucky, and she gently settles a hand between his shoulder blades.
"It's nothing bad, don't worry. This just needs some more attention than I can do with the supplies I have on hand. I'll be right back." She says, and the man settles back into his perch on the couch. Morgan pads off on her bare feet, hovering on slightly unfolded wings to reach the top cabinet for the medical kit. She returns seconds later, and starts tending to the wound as the rest of the gang start heading for their beds. Steve walks off after settling hand on Bucky's shoulder and patting her head.
After a few minutes of completely cleansing out the jagged and deep cut on his hip, Morgan looks up in surprise as Bucky speaks.
"Why do I trust you so much?" His deep voice holds nothing but raw confusion, and Morgan smiles sadly, reminding herself that this man is still learning how to be human again after the brainwashing.
"Because that is what people do Bucky. Sometimes, we just trust each other, even if we don't know why."
He waits before asking another question, more hesitantly than before.
"You trust me?" Her hands stop mid movement, a butterfly bandage half applied before she smiles and finishes up.
"Of course. I trust you very much Bucky." The man doesn't say anything, and she tapes the gauze over the wound and scooches back, packing up the med kit.
"I finished. You can put your shirt back on." She gives him a smile, before hovering over to put the kit away. Bucky puts his vest back on.
"Why didn't you touch my metal arm? I did nothing to stop you." She gives him a look.
"You didn't do anything to stop me, but I could tell that you didn't want me to." She takes a few steps toward him, her dark blue eyes open and bright. Trusting. "I know you trust me, you just don't trust yourself. When you feel that you trust yourself, you'll let me touch the metal hand, and I'll take that hand. And I accept that part of you, as I've accepted all of you. So, whenever that day comes, I'll be here."
Bucky blinks at her, and doesn't respond for several seconds, but slowly, a slight smile touches his lip.
"Thank you Morgan." She nods, and gives him a smile.
"You're welcome Bucky."