Lapped myself again! It's Steggy Week on Tumblr and this is the third year I've posted a chapter. Sorry for the length of time between chapters. A few days after I posted the last chapter one of my moms died and it's been a bit rough. Combined with being short a person at work there hasn't been much time or energy for writing. Here's an extra-long chapter to try and make up for it.
August 17th, 1946
Five gunshots filled the air.
Instinctively, Bucky moved up the flight of stairs. Barely heard and promptly ignored was a faint cry of "Bucky, wait!"
"Sergeant Barnes!"
The front door of the upstairs apartment slammed open, and the familiar metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils. Bucky felt his stomach roil in response. I'm in New York, he told himself.
"No, NO!"
At the sound of the scream, Bucky braced himself for impact or the sound of a beating. It didn't come and he sank to his knees beside Steve. Was this Steve? Was he in a Hydra base? The sight of gunshot wounds in Steve's torso nearly made him vomit. I'm in New York, he told himself again-as if he said it enough times, then he wouldn't forget. My name is James Bucky Barnes and I survived Hydra.
"Buck . . . " He almost didn't recognize Steve, but the voice was the same. Wasn't it?
Walls closed in on Bucky; he could hear the screams of the soldiers to his right and left.
"I'll be okay Buck..." Steve's voice reassured as it faded out.
Blond hair and a British accent stepped up. The new man strolled in front of Bucky and the other soldiers. He said something, but Bucky tuned him out. As Bucky lifted his head, an RAF insignia jumped out at him. In complete defiance, Bucky spat at the man as he walked by. How dare this man betray King and Country to help the Nazis! He smiled ruefully to himself. He sounded like Carter and Falsworth.
The blond RAF man stepped up closer, getting into Bucky's face. Bucky responded with a smile and a shrug. And then he saw stars.
With defiance fueled by bravado, Bucky spat a second time. His mouth filled with blood. He bit his tongue when he was punched again. A third punch, this time to the gut. Bucky felt the air whoosh out of his lungs and his knees go weak. He looked up at the ceiling. Was that a bluebird flying over his head?
"You have the serum." Bucky realized as he felt the man's full strength. Bucky stared at the man in his memory. 'You're in Steve's living room,' he told himself.
Another punch. Bucky roared and fought against the restraints. Two Hydra agents ran up, dragging the blond RAF man away before they turned back to Bucky. The last thing Bucky knew, he was locking eyes with the blond RAF man before he was dragged out of the room.
"Bucky!" Another male voice, American this time, broke through. Dum Dum. Bucky was standing, holding Carter against the wall with his only arm. Both Dum Dum and Pinky were fighting to separate the two.
He felt himself be pulled off of Carter.
"We need to get him to a hospital."
"We need to get Bucky calmed down." It sounded like Dum Dum again.
Bucky could hear the landlady saying something, but through his heart pounding in his ears, he couldn't make out the words. Steve tried to get up, and Phillips and Carter moved to get under Steve's arms.
They were gonna hurt him! With another roar, Bucky tried to get to Steve, but Pinky got between Bucky and Steve. "Get him down!"
Bucky could feel Pinky and Dum Dum fighting against him. "Buck!" Dum Dum and Pinky managed to get Bucky onto the couch. "Buck, they need to get him to a hospital. Cap needs medical care. Carter and Phillips won't hurt our Cap."
"Bucky, don't hurt anyone," Steve was begging, "please."
The world tilted and Bucky got so dizzy he had to close his eyes. When he began remembering again, Dum Dum and Pinky were taking him downstairs and into the downstairs apartment. The Landlady closed the door to the flat and told them, "The police will be here in a few minutes. I won't say anything about Mr. Carter."
Bucky collapsed on the couch, retched on the floor, and promptly passed out.
Dr. Charles Johnson slowly walked down the hall of Brooklyn Naval Hospital. He had a few hours to fill before Sergeant Barnes came back from his first supervised outing, and he was hoping he could convince Nurse Cole to take a long lunch so he and Nurse Stewart could have lunch together. The elevator doors opened, and he could hear a commotion by the front desk.
"We need a medic! STAT!"
He had already turned around when he heard Nurse Stewart calling, "Doctor Johnson!"
Dr. Johnson turned the corner to see Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter holding up a tall man. The new man held a jacket but let it drop to the floor as they stood by the front desk. The bloodstains told of three gunshot wounds. But why had they risked bringing him upstairs and not to the emergency department?
"Please!" Agent Carter begged. "We'll explain everything, but the bullets . . . . "
Doctor Johnson grabbed a gurney. "Get him on this!" He turned to Nurse Stewart. "Stewart, medic bag in my office; Cole, bandages and Thorazine."
As the nurses double-timed down the passageway, the stranger tried to lift himself onto the gurney, although Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter assisted in completing the action. Doctor Johnson reached over and ripped the man's shirt open. One bullet had entered his left clavicle; another, his right shoulder—the third concerned Doctor Johnson the most as it was in the lower right abdomen.
"All three bullets are still in," the man gasped in pain. He jerked his head towards the shoulder wound. "They're deep . . . ."
Dr. Johnson pushed the gurney into the room Sergeant Barnes had initially been assigned to several months earlier. The windows there were larger and let in more natural light, so it would be easier to see for the impromptu surgery.
"Out!" Doctor Johnson barked at the two. "Nurses only." Colonel Phillips nearly had to drag Agent Carter out, but they left the room.
Nurse Stewart came rushing in, field bag in her hands. After grabbing something from the depths, he barked one word: "Assist!" He bent over this strange but vaguely familiar man and got to work.
It didn't take long to figure out the man was right; these bullets were in deep. But with enough determination, the bullets were out, and he, Nurse Stewart, and Nurse Cole were sewing their patient up. Although the bullets hadn't hit any arteries, he'd had to remove the spleen. Another groan from the man, and Doctor Johnson looked at his face. The pallor of the skin enhanced striking blue eyes and a dark beard.
"Shoulder is sewn up and bandaged," Nurse Cole said from her spot beside Doctor Johnson.
"Good work," Doctor Johnson complimented. "And Stewart?"
"Just about done. There. Finished." Nurse Stewart clipped the stitch as close to the skin as possible to allow movement but keep the wound from reopening.
A full dose of Thorazine had barely touched this man's pain. "Cole, give him another 5mL of Thorazine." Cole left the room, and Johnson took the chance to stare at the man. Why had Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips risked bringing this man upstairs? Why hadn't they called for an ambulance? The emergency department was more equipped to handle life-threatening wounds than a make-shift psychiatric ward.
The only possible reason that made sense was that Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter didn't want a record of this man receiving medical care. But why wouldn't they? And why did he metabolize medication as quickly as Sergeant Barnes did? Had the Nazis experimented on him as well?
But there were no other injuries, and even though he was in excruciating pain, this new man didn't have the same tortured look Sergeant Barnes had. And if the Nazis had experimented on him, why hadn't he been brought here at the same time Sergeant Barnes was?
Doctor Johnson bent over the bed and looked at the barely conscious man. "Do you think another dose of Thorazine would help? Or are you just going to have to breathe through the pain as you recover?"
"Can't hurt to try," the man replied through gritted teeth.
Doctor Johnson gave the second dose of Thorazine and looked at the man, wheels turning in his head. Faintly, it registered that Agent Carter had been wearing a ring on her left ring finger. Had she been wearing that this morning when she'd picked up Sergeant Barnes?
He looked at Cole. "Update the group outside." Both nurses sent him confused looks, but Cole followed the order, closing the door behind her.
Once the door clicked shut, Doctor Johnson turned to Nurse Stewart. "Mary, you have the freedom to say no." They locked eyes. "But I need a unit of plasma. No need to sign it out." The unspoken implication to appropriate without a requisition hung in the air.
The words hung in the air as Nurse Stewart glanced between Doctor Johnson and the man on the bed. Then she nodded, turned, and fled the room.
Doctor Johnson turned to the man on the bed. "I don't like how grey you are. Even though I'm sure you'll heal quite well, I'd still like to err on the side of caution."
The man gave a curt nod of understanding as he tried not to groan in pain.
Doctor Johnson waited for the minutes to tick by. He could tell when the Thorazine finally hit, but it was also clear that the man was wary.
"Thank you, doctor," the man rasped once he could talk without crying out in pain.
Still no tortured look, so Doctor Johnson didn't think he'd been experimented on by Nazis. That meant whatever healing powers this man had, he was either born with them or he'd agreed to the procedure. But who would have agreed to it? Unless . . . "How are you feeling?"
"Like I just had three bullets dug out of me on not enough Thorazine," the man waved a hand before wincing in pain. "I've been injured worse."
Doctor Johnson hadn't seen any scars, which confirmed his theory that the man healed as quickly as Barnes did. "Let me take a shot in the dark: you were in a plane crash."
The man gave him a long look. "Yes."
"A little over a year ago?"
The man tried to nod but gave up. "Yes," he finally admitted.
"And the Nazis don't know you're still alive." It wasn't a question.
"And I cannot begin to describe to you how much I'd prefer it if they didn't learn that piece of information."
"I won't ask any questions. The less I know, the less I can give up under pressure, Captain," Doctor Johnson promised with a wink.
"I thought there was 'doctor/patient confidentiality."
"True," Doctor Johnson agreed. "However, the fewer people who know, the better. But we'll have to tell Cole and Stewart," Doctor Johnson cautioned.
"I assumed so after they helped get the bullets out."
"And they . . . ." Doctor Johnson waved a hand to the hall where he knew the rest of the group was. ". . . . all know, I presume?"
"Yes, the first people I told I was back were Carter and Phillips," Steve confessed. "We were just telling Bucky today..."
"Once I get some plasma in you, I'll let them come in and visit," Doctor Johnson promised, making a note to ask the Colonel where Sargeant Barnes was.
Steve smiled weakly, his eyes fluttered closed. "Thank you."
"I'll need you to rest for a few weeks. Even if you heal quickly, three gunshot wounds and an emergency spleen removal are nothing to play around with."
"Not going to be a problem," Steve quipped. "I'm pretty sure we have a few months off anyway."
Doctor Johnson patted Steve's shoulder reassuringly. "Well, you concentrate on getting better. I'm sure everything else can wait."
Steve nodded. He could feel himself growing tired, the strength quickly left his body. Despite everything that had happened, Steve knew he could trust the doctor. "Make sure Bucky is okay," he said before slipping into a sweet welcoming reverie.
Doctor Johnson looked at his sleeping patient. He gave a small salute. "Will do, Captain."
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