Disclaimer: I own nothing and this is my own head-cannon

James Buchanan Barnes: A Winter Soldier story

Chapter 8 - Rennovation

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Listen to "We Move Lightly" by Dustin O'Halloran


"Could be a while before he wakes up," Banner warned, lingering in the doorway of the small room, as if unsure whether to stay or leave.

Steve nodded passively, resolved to keep his internal promise of staying by Bucky's side. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Bruce's eyes scrunch and his mouth work into a look of encouragement. After nodding to Steve, Banner rubbed his hands together and left the room.

For the first half hour, Rogers was content to watching his sleeping friend's face, full of peace despite his still-haggard features. Steve told himself he wouldn't speculate on the treatment Bucky had received at the hands of Hydra, but it was difficult not to let his imagination wander as he took in the rough scars on Bucky's face.

Ironically, it wasn't until much later when Steve found a book to read and was engrossed in it that Bucky began to stir, head lolling over his pillow as he made swallowing motions with his throat.

"Sergeant Barnes," Bucky whispered. "Three seven two…"

"Buck?" Steve nearly leapt out of his chair, startled by the sudden whisper. Leaning over the waking man's face, he swept Bucky's long bangs away from his forehead.

"Is…is…" Bucky's eyes groggily fixed on Steve, consciousness alternately dimming and lighting up in his pupils. "Steve?"

"Bucky," Steve smiled at him, overwhelmed with relief and joy as Bucky's eyes registered recognition. Roger's eyes were beginning to well up, but the wetness was obscuring his vision and he brushed it away.

"Steve," Bucky swallowed and smiled, eyes drifting shut for one drowsy moment. When they opened again, Bucky's eyes crinkled with confusion. "What happened to you?"

"I joined the Army," Steve laughed, recalling the time they'd said similar words—when he'd saved Bucky from Dr. Zola's laboratory. Another reunion he'd rather not remember…

"Yeah, I remember that. S'not what I meant, doughboy," Barnes grinned, shutting his eyes again.

It was amazing how affected Steve was by the 40's moniker—doughboy meaning 'infantry man'—and it gave him hope that the old Bucky he knew and loved might not be as far gone as he'd originally thought. It was almost too much for his already racing heart, which dropped when Bucky looked at him with concern.

"What happened to your face?" Bucky croaked out with a dry cough, tilting his head to look at the nightstand where a glass of water sat. Rogers was about to reach a hand up to touch the remaining stitches on his cheek—courtesy of the winter soldier during their last meeting— when Bucky started to shift as though to reach out for the water.

"I'll get that," Steve insisted in mild panic, twisting and swiping at the glass before Bucky was able to raise his arm.

"You don't have to baby me, Cap," Bucky growled, pulling his torso up to sit, "It's not—"

Despite Steve's effort to keep Bucky from reaching for the glass, Bucky threw out his left arm to grab it from Steve's hand—and stared at where the elbow ended and the forearm was missing. Rough, scarred ridges ran along the fold where the skin would have stretched over elbow and arm, bandaged in some areas where the metal attachment hadn't fit properly.

"Steve," Bucky's eyes widened with horror. "Oh, God— Steve!" He shuffled back against the headrest as though the absence of arm was a monster he could shrink back from. "What—"

"Bucky," The glass slipped from Steve's hands and crashed to the floor as he reached out to settle the unnerved Barnes. "It's okay, you're safe, we—"

"What happened to my damn hand?" Barnes shouted in dismay, pressing his chin against his neck to look down at the remaining damage to his shoulder and chest—where the remainder of electrical nodes jutted out from his skin, taped down along his bicep. "Oh, God, what happened to me?"

Bucky's eyes rolled upward and his shoulders slumped, just about toppling over the side of the bed in a faint when Steve leapt forward to catch him.

"You're gonna be okay, Buck," Steve managed to choke out, heart aching at the terror he'd seen on Bucky's face and clutching the man to his chest in a trembling embrace. Bucky groaned against him, a dead weight in Steve's hands, but it would take more than that for Steve to drop him.

As he was laid onto his back by strong and sure hands, Bucky's eyes fluttered open and closed. He whimpered and a look of remorse passed over his features. "What have… what have I done?"

Steve wasn't sure how to answer, but held his friend's remaining hand in both of his, hovering over Bucky's face and trying to hold back the anguish in seeing Bucky so stricken with grief.

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bucky coughed, squeezing Steve's hand weakly. Suddenly, he clutched desperately at Steve's shirt, eyes alight with fear and regret as he met Steve's gaze. "Tell her," He coughed again, the last remnants of his energy clearly giving out while his face turned white. "Tell her I'm sorry."

"Who, Bucky?" Steve's hands started to shake, but he kept a grip on Bucky's shoulders. "Who do I tell?"

Slowly sinking back onto the pillow as his heavy eyelids sealed shut, Bucky breathed out, "Tasha…"

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ren`no`va`tion – The act of rebuilding or tearing down to make better

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I wanted so much to keep the entire story in Natasha's perspective, instead of jumping around from person to person, but there just wasn't any way to swing it other than to share with Steve Rogers. I don't mind if you don't ;)

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