Sam took a careful step forward, into Steve's dimly lit room, and got his first good look at Bucky. The supersoldier was half hidden under a mound of Steve's blankets, but Sam could see enough to realize that Bucky was likely even worse than he'd thought. Whatever was going on with the man, it looked like far more than just an injury. Sam thought that Bucky was trying to stay still and tense, but he was shivering under the blankets, and his face was flushed with fever. Long strands of his hair had fallen out of a tangled bun, sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He looked extremely ill, and extremely miserable. Sam hadn't even seen the injury yet, but if it was causing this, then he wasn't sure he wanted to. At this point, he didn't think there would be much he could do. There was really only one option left.

"Okay. Let's get you to a hospital," Sam said.

Bucky suddenly jerked backwards, the covers slipping from around his bare shoulders as he struggled to get away. Sam raised his hands in a placating gesture, instinctively moving forward.

"Stay away from me," Bucky snarled, collapsing heavily on the bed as his arms gave out. His breath started to come in short, sharp gasps, and his eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out.

"Okay, okay," Sam said, backing up again, keeping his hands raised for Bucky to see. "I'm staying right here. Just, breathe, okay?"

Bucky eyed him distrustfully, but didn't try to get up again. His breath hissed out with a small whimper, but the next breath seemed to come easier.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything." Sam knew it was a bold thing to say, because if it ended up not being true, Bucky would probably never forgive him. But he didn't know how else to calm Bucky down. "But look, this...I don't know how to deal with whatever's wrong. You need…."

"No hospitals," Bucky hissed.

"You won't get arrested," Sam said, mind quickly flitting between different options as to why Bucky could be so anti-hospital. "I know it's...hard to go out in public again, after...everything. But Steve won't let anything happen to you, and you know that. He'd much rather bail you out of a hospital then find you dead in his apartment."

Bucky didn't say anything, just stared at Sam with sunken eyes. Sam realized he was perhaps being a little harsh.

"Also, you're a hero now," Sam finished lamely. "So they, uh, they wouldn't arrest you anyways."

"No hospitals," Bucky ground out.

"But-"

"It's like-" Bucky's head gave a sudden, violent twitch. His metal hand twined in the blanket, and Sam was a little afraid he was going to accidentally rip it. "It's like-"
Sam waited, his heart thudding hard and fast in his throat. This was clearly almost impossible for Bucky to get out.

"Like Hydra," he finally finished softly. Then he glared at Sam, daring him to either laugh or leave. Sam could see his chest heaving up and down beneath the blankets, even from all the way across the room.

Sam swallowed hard. Of course Bucky wouldn't be fond of hospitals - they strayed awfully close to the horrible medical experiments he'd been subjected to while he was with Hydra. Sam didn't exactly know how stable the Super Soldier was after...whatever Shuri had done to his brain, but it wasn't something he wanted to put to the test. If he went to a hospital, it would be a serious setback for his mental state. Not to mention the fact that there was a very real chance he would end up hurting someone.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Sam said. "No hospitals."

"No hospitals."

"I'm going to need to take a look," Sam said.

"No."

Sam sighed. "Come on," he said. "You can't refuse to go to a hospital, and also refuse to get help from me. I'll let you stay here, but in exchange you have to let me help you."

There was a long, pregnant silence, and then Bucky nodded, very gingerly. If Sam hadn't been watching carefully, almost afraid to blink, he would have missed it.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. As long as you keep letting me help you, we're good. Right?"

Bucky nodded again, a little more certain-looking this time. Sam didn't want to think about what would happen if Bucky got bad enough that Sam couldn't help him anymore, but it seemed like Bucky either hadn't thought about that or he didn't want to. Sam would just have to cross that bridge if they came to it.

"I'm gonna turn on the lights, okay?" Sam said, hand hovering over the light switch. Bucky had the overhead lights turned off, and the only light was a bedside lamp that would do absolutely nothing to help Sam treat a wound.

Bucky glared at him unhappily. Sam sighed. "Bucky-"

"Fine," Bucky growled, taking a quick turn from dangerous to petulant. If Sam hadn't known better, he'd have said it looked like the ex-assassin was pouting.

Sam flipped on the lights, and apart from Bucky squinting in distress, there was no sudden reaction from the Super Soldier. Sam considered this a good sign.

Sam took a cautious step forward, and Bucky let him approach. Sam stopped about halfway to the bed, giving Bucky some space if he needed it.

"So...where are you hurt?" Sam asked. Bucky was still covered by the blankets, and aside from the fever he was clearly running, Sam couldn't tell what his injury actually was.

In response, Bucky twitched the blankets off, careful not to move his upper body. The bedclothes slid to the floor in a heap, revealing Bucky's bare chest. His right side was covered in a series of sloppy-looking bandages, blood showing through the wrappings in some spots. The clumsy gauze stretched from the bottom of his ribcage down, disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

"Oh," Sam said lamely. He probably should have expected something this bad, considering that Bucky was a Super Soldier. He'd seen Steve take hits that would probably have killed Sam, shake them off, and walk away. If something had put Bucky down, it had to be serious. Still, when he was actually faced with it, even not having seen the actual wounds yet, he was amazed that Bucky had even been able to walk to the bathroom.

"Oh," Bucky agreed softly, and Sam once again saw a faint glimmer of the sense of humor Steve had described in his childhood friend. It was gone in an instant as Bucky narrowed his eyes at Sam, as if daring him to uphold his end of the bargain.

"Can I come closer?" Sam asked. He didn't want to freak Bucky out, and he also very much didn't want to be hit. He figured that if he wasn't sure if one of those two things would happen, then it was probably best to ask.

Bucky hesitated, and then nodded again.

Sam approached the bed, and Bucky eyed him warily. Now that he was closer, Sam could see fine trembles running through his chest and arms.

"I'm going to need to take a look," Sam said.

Bucky took an unsteady breath. "I know."

Sam took that as a tacit agreement. He reached out a hand, slowly enough that Bucky could pull back or say something if he needed to. He peeled the bloody bandages off his chest, wincing when he could feel the tacky blood trying to paste them to Bucky's skin.

Three parallel red wounds started halfway up Bucky's chest. and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. They looked like they had been...bad, even initially - Sam coudn't tell how long they were, but he could see at least ten inches of torn skin, and the edges of the wound looked jagged and painful.

But much worse was the obvious infection. The scratches were fiery red and swollen nearly shut, weeping a nauseating mixture of blood and pus. Even without actually making contact with Bucky's skin, Sam could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"How did this even happen?" Sam asked, his mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what he could possibly do to help.

"Those weird alien things," Bucky said softly. "They had...claws, or somethin'."

"And they just kept getting worse and worse? These are obviously infected, Bucky."

"I know. I wasn't...wasn't sure what to do."

"How far down do these go?" Sam asked. Bucky's knee could be shredded too, for all Sam knew.

Bucky pointed weakly to his mid-thigh. "There about," he said.

Sam closed his eyes softly, a sudden heat blooming in his chest. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm...going to have to take your pants off."

"No."

"I can't help if I can't see them, Bucky."

His mouth twisted, and a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "Fine."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath - this wasn't how he expected the conversation to go, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. "Just...let me know if you need me to stop," he said.

Bucky nodded.

Easing Bucky's pants over his hip bones wasn't easy, especially when one was so swollen, and Sam was trying desperately not to cause him any additional pain. The fever seemed to have sapped all the strength from Bucky's limbs, and he was so weak he could hardly lift himself up.

"Here we go," Sam said. He figured he should be filling the silence with something. "See? This...this isn't so bad. Just need to see the wounds, and then I'll be able to...yeah, not exactly sure, but anyways, sorry if this hurts, I know…."

All of a sudden, Bucky's hand was fumbling at Sam's. Sam looked up at him, and saw that he was gasping for breath, eyes wild.

"I need...sorry...stop," he gasped. Sam winced as he rolled onto his wounded side in an attempt to get away. "Sorry, need...space…," his breath was still coming in harsh pants, and the shaking was worse now, "need a second…."

Sam let go of Bucky instantly, raising his hands and backing away, until Bucky could see the distance between him.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said. "You got nothing to be sorry for. It's okay."

Bucky managed a nod, and then the shaking got worse and he squeezed his eyes shut. They snapped back open only a second later, and they darted wildly around the room before fixing on Sam. Sam made sure to stay where he was. As hard as it was to watch Bucky struggle through a panic attack, there was no doubt in his mind that he would make it unimaginably worse by approaching him.

"You're okay," Sam said softly, as Bucky's eyes seemed to actually focus on him for the first time since his breathing had slipped out of control. "Just breathe."

Slowly, Bucky's ragged gasps got slower and more even, and the tremors wracking his body faded into the shivers they'd been before. A few minutes later, Bucky nodded.

"Okay. Sorry. I...you can try again. Sorry."

"Told you, you don't have to say sorry," Sam said gently, more than a little heartbroken that Bucky thought he might need to apologize for having a (very reasonable) panic attack. Bucky responded with a wry twist of his lips, caught somewhere in the middle between a smile and a frown, and painfully maneuvered his injured side back into an accessible position for Sam.

Sam retraced his steps towards the bed, once again making sure to go slowly in case Bucky needed to change his mind. But Bucky seemed alright, at least for the time being - his breathing stayed even, if a little fast.

Sam paused when he reached Bucky's side, contemplating the problem of the pants. Aside from how uncomfortable he felt, he was clearly hurting Bucky every time he touched him. If he kept trying the same thing, he thought there would be a good chance Bucky would just end up in the midst of another panic attack.

"I think I may have to cut your pants off," Sam said, instantly wishing he could die on the spot for the second time in under ten minutes. "It might...might be easier."

Bucky sighed softly. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Umm, okay. I just - I gotta get scissors, or something. I'm not leaving," Sam hurried to reiterate. "I'll be back as soon as I can find something."

A sheepish look crossed Bucky's face, and he reached his right hand under his pillow, pulling out a large, sharp-looking knife. He spun it around, handle pointing towards Sam, and offered it to him.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle - this whole situation was just so unbearably ridiculous. Here he was, in the bedroom of Captain America, cutting the pants off of a Super Soldier/ex-assassin with a knife he kept under his pillow.

"Um, thanks, I guess," Sam said, taking the knife. He began to slowly work his way down the side of Bucky's leg, trying to keep his movements as gentle as possible.

"This reminds me of…." Sam frowned. "Nope, nevermind. I'm not even gonna pretend I've got a fun story that's applicable to a situation like this one."

There was a small huff of breath from Bucky, but Sam couldn't tell if he was laughing or gasping in pain.

"I guess I could talk about something else. Did I ever tell you how-"

"You could try...not talking," Bucky suggested. Once again, it was impossible to tell whether he was joking or bitching from just his tone of voice, but when Sam looked up at him, there was a very small smile on his face.

"Fine, fine," Sam said, although he couldn't imagine wanting to just sit in total silence while someone was cutting his pants off.

Still, allowing himself to fully concentrate did help, and he was able to cut Bucky's pants down to the knee without too much trouble. Before long, he had a pretty good view of the whole length of Bucky's wounds. Thankfully, the injuries on his thigh didn't seem to be hugely worse than the ones on his chest, just more of the same. He peeled the sticky bandages off, ignoring Bucky when he whimpered in pain.

"What have you done to these so far?" Sam asked. He didn't know much about first-aid, but he was pretty sure he knew more than Bucky, based on the state of the wounds. Still, he didn't want to retread the same ground, trying things that Bucky had already failed at.

"Steve has antibiotic cream in the medicine cabinet," Bucky said. "And I took Advil the first few days. Haven't...haven't been able to get up to get it in a while."

"I'll get you Advil," Sam murmured distractedly. "Do you know your temperature?"

"I think I have a fever," Bucky said sadly.

"I think you have a fever too," Sam said, a little more sharply than he'd intended. "What gave it away?

Sam was feeling enormously out of his depth. He knew a little field first-aid - enough to get by, in a crisis. But this was fully different. He didn't have access to antibiotics, or an IV, or anything like that. He could bandage wounds, but he couldn't help Bucky fight off an infection. But he did not want to have to choose between letting Bucky die, and forcing him to a hospital against his will. He...he wouldn't. He would just have to...figure something out.

"Okay, I'm gonna get some Advil, and I'm gonna grab a thermometer to take your temperature," Sam informed Bucky. "And some water."

Bucky nodded softly, and Sam made a beeline for Steve's bathroom, which he'd been amused to see contained a first aid kit. He was fairly sure that nothing in it would have ever been useful for Steve, since he seemed to completely ignore minor injuries and, unlike Bucky, had no issue with hospitals. Still, it was certainly coming in handy now.

Sam collected the surprisingly well-stocked first aid kit and filled a glass of water in the kitchen. He was guessing that Bucky might be a little nauseous, after his earlier refusal of food, but he figured even Super Soldiers probably shouldn't dry swallow pills. Water would be better than nothing.

Bucky hadn't moved when Sam made it back to the bedroom, although his eyes had drifted halfway closed. Sam paused at the doorway and knocked on the frame, just in case Bucky had managed to fall asleep.

"I'm back," he said, a little uselessly.

"Really," Bucky muttered, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Steve didn't say you were so sarcastic," Sam grumbled, setting the first aid kit on the bedside table. He took out the Advil, shaking two tablets into his hand. Then, he remembered that Bucky was a Super Soldier, and shook out a few more. He handed them to Bucky, who immediately put them in his mouth and swallowed.

"What- I got you water," Sam protested, gesturing to the glass beside the first aid kit. "That'll...eat up your stomach lining, or something."

"Don't want water," Bucky said flatly.

Sam resisted the urge to scream in frustration, instead opting for producing the thermometer from the first aid kit.

"Fine. I'm gonna take your temperature, okay?"

Bucky's nostrils flared, and he narrowed his eyes at the very basic aural thermometer Sam was holding.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a thermometer. It goes in your ear."

"I don't want it to go in my ear."

"C'mon," Sam pleaded. "It doesn't hurt or anything, I promise. It doesn't even go deep. You just stay still, and…. Look." Sam put the thermometer in his own ear, and after a few seconds, it beeped. Bucky flinched slightly, and Sam took it out of his ear and showed it to Bucky.

"See? It says I'm not running a fever. Unlike someone I could mention."

Bucky frowned. "It's been in your ear. Now I really don't want it in my ear."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, then took an antiseptic wipe out of the first aid kit and cleaned the thermometer. "Happy?"

"No," Bucky grumbled, then sighed. "Fine."

Bucky lifted his head and pulled his hair to one side. Sam started to insert the thermometer, and Bucky instantly flinched so wildly Sam wouldn't be surprised if he gave himself whiplash. A hand flew up to guard his head.

Immediately, Bucky looked both ashamed and alarmed by his own reaction. "I-"

"It's okay, that...that was my fault," Sam said, taking a shaky breath. "Let me try that again."

Bucky nodded slowly. Sam put a hand on the back of Bucky's skull, and swallowed hard. "Alright," he said. "This isn't going to go in very far, but you'll feel it. It might be a little cold. This kind of thermometer is really fast, so it'll only be in your ear for a couple of seconds. Okay?"

Bucky nodded again, very slightly.

"I'm putting it in now," Sam said calmly, and inserted the thermometer. Sam felt Bucky tense, but this time he didn't move. A few seconds later, Sam was removing the thermometer, and he felt Bucky relax again.

"102," Sam said. "Not great, but it could be worse. Do you happen to know for sure if your base temperature is 98.6?"

Bucky shrugged a little. "Think so."

"Alright then," Sam said. "We'll keep an eye on this, but the Advil should help. How do you feel now?"

"Tired," Bucky said, and Sam looked up, surprised by the unguarded answer. "A little sick."

"You gonna puke?"

Bucky shook his head. "'M not gonna puke."

"You have to warn me if you're going to puke."

"I said I'm not gonna puke."

"You shouldn't take Advil on an empty stomach. Especially if you're dry-swallowing."

"You shouldn't be so bossy," Bucky murmured.

"It's only with you," Sam said. "No one else needs it. Now let me get a better look at those cuts."

Bucky did not look like he liked that much at all, but he didn't move as Sam took the disinfectant out of the first aid kit and turned back towards him, putting a little disinfectant on a washcloth.

"You good?" Sam asked, pausing before he began, just to make sure. Bucky was wide-eyed and tight-lipped, and Sam could tell that this was unimaginably difficult for him.

A tight nod was all the answer he got, but Sam would take it. Sam started at the highest wound, the one right under Bucky's ribcage, and started to clean it as gently as he could.

Bucky went rigid as soon as Sam touched him, but he didn't move away, didn't ask Sam to stop. After a brief internal struggle, Sam decided that if Bucky wasn't asking Sam to back away, then it was probably best for Bucky if Sam worked quickly and carefully, and didn't draw this out too much.

Sam went as quickly as he felt he could go without hurting Bucky. He knew this had to be excruciating, but Bucky had yet to flinch, or cry out, or have much of any reaction at all. The wounds were deep, and as Sam wiped away the blood and pus surrounding them, the jagged slashes almost looked worse rather than better. Now, Sam could see how much damage the alien creatures had really done, and he was impressed all over again that Bucky had even survived, much less managed to get off the battlefield without anyone noticing.

Sam reached the scratches at Bucky's hip and paused, wondering if he should give Bucky a break. He looked back at Bucky's face, looking to see if he was in pain, but Bucky didn't really react to him. His eyes were flat and far away, and he didn't seem to be focussing on anything.

Sam winced. He recognized the signs of dissociation well enough after his run as a trauma counselor for the VA, and he wasn't exactly surprised that Bucky had found a way to go somewhere else in his mind after all he'd been through. Right now, the best thing Sam could probably do for Bucky was finish cleaning the wounds that were killing him as quickly as possible, then back off and let Bucky come back to himself.

Sam started again. Bucky flinched as Sam reached an especially nasty wound on his leg, but he didn't say anything, and Sam continued after a pause. He worked his way down through the last cut, a jagged slash ending around Bucky's mid-thigh, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, worst part's over," he said, pitching his voice low and calm. "Just gonna put some cream on them, then I'll put on new bandages."

He had half been talking to himself, but after a pause, Bucky nodded tensely. His unfocused eyes were still staring into nothing, but at least Sam had gotten a reaction.

"Are you...alright?" Sam asked.

Bucky nodded again, still not looking at Sam.

"It doesn't feel like your fever's going down yet," Sam said. Bucky's skin was still hot to the touch, not just over the infected wounds but everywhere else as well. Bucky didn't respond to that at all, not even to nod, which Sam found somewhat worrying.

"Can you drink a little water?"

Bucky's eyes shifted dully over to Sam, but he neither nodded or shook his head, just stared at Sam for a minute, and then turned his head away.