Chapter 8: Fix You
Bucky came to a halt in the doorway. Natasha had been telling the truth. It was Steve. He was here, and... Bucky's heart plummeted. What the hell had turned his Steve into the broken shell of a man before him? What had happened to him in that horrible place where Bucky couldn't protect him like he should have? How could a man so full of light and strength look that hollow and broken?
Bucky walked slowly across the lab, kneeling next to Steve. Oh God, he looked even worse up close. A lump rose up in Bucky's throat and he felt tears well up in his eyes, but he couldn't let himself cry. He had to stay strong. For Steve.
"Hey Stevie. I'm here," he whispered. It was all he could manage.
Steve looked at him and there was a little flicker of something besides fear and pain in his eyes. It was almost happiness, but there was still too much hurt for that.
"Bucky," Steve gasped, as though his name was the only word that mattered.
Bucky almost broke when he heard how raw Steve's voice was. He was all too familiar with the sound of a voice raw from screaming.
"Yeah, it's me, baby. I'm gonna take care of you, and I ain't ever gonna leave you again." It was all he could do not to let the tears take over. "Let's go get you cleaned up, okay?"
Steve nodded and Bucky took his arm, gently pulling him to his feet. He paid no mind to the others as he shepherded Steve out of the lab, into the elevator, and to their room. It was their room again. Closing the door behind them, Bucky led Steve to the bed and sat him down on the edge of it. He took the shield, which was still miraculously strapped to his back, and set it in the corner before fetching the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink. He sat next to Steve on the bed and carefully began swabbing away the dried blood that coated the side of his face, probing for the source. Finally he found it, a jagged cut near his hairline that was mostly scabbed over.
"Does that hurt?" he asked.
"Not anymore," Steve replied.
Well, that was more syllables than he'd spoken so far.
"Let's get you out of these clothes and clean you up, okay?" Bucky said.
Steve nodded. Bucky took the first aid kit back to the bathroom and set it on the counter before turning on the bathtub and letting it start to fill. He went back into the bedroom and crouched down in front of Steve, pulling off his boots and his socks. He stood back up and started helping Steve out of his uniform. The more layers he removed, the more Bucky's heart ached as the extent of Steve's injuries was revealed. His entire body was covered in cuts, bruises, and burns. Criss-crossing over his muscled back were several long, angry cuts that were unmistakably from the lash of a whip. Bucky swallowed back the bile that threatened to burn his throat; Steve had been tortured.
When Steve was completely stripped, Bucky led him into the bathroom and turned off the faucet before ushering him into the steaming water. Steve flinched slightly at the heat but sunk into it, soon relaxing slightly as the warmth started to sap some of the tension from his muscles. Bucky sat on the toilet seat and cupped his hands to scoop up some water and wet Steve's hair. He picked up the shampoo bottle and squeezed some out, then massaged it gently over Steve's scalp, washing away the dirt and dried blood that had matted down his soft blond hair. Then he scooped up more handfuls of water to rinse it out, careful not to get any suds in Steve's eyes. When his hair was clean, Bucky picked up the bar of soap and a washcloth and began washing Steve's body, being extra careful around his various cuts and burns. Steve barely reacted to his administrations, letting Bucky move his limbs without resistance. Finally, Bucky set aside the soap and ran a hand through Steve's wet hair.
"Come on, up you get," he said, taking Steve's arm again and helping him out of the tub.
He unplugged the drain, grabbed a towel, and set to work on drying Steve off. He was crouched down, drying Steve's legs, when Steve spoke again.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Bucky paused and looked up, having to gaze up the entirety of Steve's naked body to see his face.
"Of course I am. I've got you back, don't I?" he replied, going back to drying Steve's legs and hoping he wouldn't realize just how much of a lie that was.
"You don't look okay."
Bucky sighed. Steve always was the best at knowing when he was hurting, and he wasn't exactly doing a very good job of hiding it right now. Bucky stood up and wrapped the towel around Steve's waist, tucking in the corner to secure it. He looked at Steve. Now that he wasn't covered in blood and grime, he looked almost normal again. Almost. He couldn't wash away the dark shadows or the haunted look swimming behind tired, bloodshot eyes.
"The last two weeks have been... difficult," Bucky murmured. "I mean, they can't possibly hold a candle to what you've been through, but... I thought you were gone forever, Steve, and it was my fault. It's my fault you're beat up and looking at me with those terrified eyes. I shoulda let go of that railing the second your hand left mine. Then at least you wouldn't have been alone."
The tears were coming now and there was no stopping them. He'd told himself to be strong for Steve, but he couldn't, not when he was the reason all this had happened. Not when he was standing this close to Steve and could see every single mark, down to the tiniest scratch, that the Vortex had left on him. He had done this to Steve and he couldn't hold it in anymore.
"This is my fault. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, Steve, I'm so sorry."
He was sobbing now, uncontrollable tremors wracking his body as all the grief and guilt of what he'd let Steve go through hit him with the force of a freight train. It wasn't fair of him to lose control like this, he knew it wasn't, not when Steve was barely hanging on by a thread and couldn't possibly have the strength to comfort him or tell him that no, it wasn't his fault, even though it so completely was. Suddenly, Steve's tentative but still strong arms were around him and Bucky clung to him as though the slightest breeze would separate them again. He tried to get a handle on his sobs to no avail, so he buried his face his Steve's bare, bruised chest, crying and gasping "I'm sorry" over and over until he was too exhausted to stand.
Steve was lying stomach-down on the bed while Bucky sat beside him, caring for the lash-marks on his back. Neither of them had spoken a word since Bucky's meltdown in the bathroom. The sky outside had grown dark but neither of them could bring themselves to suggest going to sleep, even though they were exhausted. Secretly, they were both too scared of the nightmares that they knew would come. Finally Bucky finished bandaging Steve's wounds and cleared his throat.
"Sorry for earlier."
Steve tilted his head so he could look up at him.
"It's fine," he said.
"No, it's not," said Bucky. "It was selfish. You've been beaten and tortured and God knows what else, and there I was crying all over the place because I feel guilty. If anybody's got the right to break down like that right now, it's you. Not me."
Steve carefully pushed himself up so he was sitting facing Bucky. He was still naked, but rather than feeling exposed and vulnerable like he had back... no, he couldn't think about that... at home, with Bucky, he knew he was safe and his nakedness wasn't as terrifying as he had expected it to be.
"It's not your fault," he began.
"I knew you'd say that..." Bucky muttered.
"I'm not finished yet," Steve said. "It is not your fault. It was an accident. Do I wish it hadn't happened? Absolutely. If I had known that I would... but we did what we had to. If Hydra had kept that thing, they'd have used it and it would've been a lot worse than just me being... Please don't blame yourself, Bucky. And don't call yourself selfish for breaking down."
Steve exhaled heavily. He hadn't said that many words at one time since before the Vortex. Unless you counted constant pleading. He shuddered. Just the thought of how much he'd pleaded filled him with fear and a hint of shame. He wasn't the begging type. Bucky was gazing at him, a guilty look still hiding behind his eyes, but mostly he just looked sad.
"You don't have to tell me any of what happened in there," he said. "But if you need to, I'll listen and do whatever I can to help you through it."
"Thanks, Buck." Steve tried to smile at him but the muscles didn't seem to work properly anymore. "Actually, there is something..."
"What is it?"
Steve looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly, and he wondered if they'd ever be as steady as they used to be.
"How do you deal with the nightmares?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Bucky took both of Steve's shaking hands in his own steady ones.
"I've got you," he said gently. "And now you've got me. I'll be right here next to you to chase them away."
