"Hey, you're out and about for once. I feel special," Howard Stark quipped, glancing up briefly from his makeshift workstation. In short order he had commandeered a spare storage room on the base. The dark circles under his eyes told a different story than his boisterous tone.
"Dum Dum and Morita kicked me out. Even Bucky's insisted I stretch my legs every once in a while, when he's awake. Find a halfway decent bed, that sort of thing," replied Steve.
"Smart man, might be worthwhile advice. How's he doing?"
"Not well enough. The gangrene isn't improving, and his fever spikes are getting worrisome. Even if he was more stable, they had to hold off the evac thanks to the increase in bombing runs."
Stark faced him in earnest. "Yeah, I knew about the no-flight part, they wouldn't even let me help with that. Something about not wanting competing flight plans or unnecessary targets for German fighters. I'm sorry to hear about the rest."
"Me too." Steve wandered half-heartedly around the corner of the table, which was littered with all manner of papers, many notated in something other than English. "You packed all of this for a surprise trip to a combat base?"
"Figured I'd bring something to keep busy. Zola had a bunch of personal research with him when he was caught. I've been sorting through it to see if any interesting clues turn up. Whatever powers those blue energy weapons of his, it comes from something even crazier. Like, mythical gods crazy, if I'm understanding this stuff right. My German is a little rough. Take this, for example though." He pulled out a couple sheets from the haphazard organization of stacks.
"Fascinating study into prosthetic capabilities. The engineering is off the charts. I started making some notes of my own once I heard about Barnes'—" Stark's ramblings abruptly cut off when met with Steve's gobsmacked expression.
"You think you could pull off something like this, a working prosthetic replacement?"
"In theory, miniaturized servos could function similar to individual muscles, all somehow directed by biological nerve impulses, under a skin of metal plates shaped to resemble a human limb. You'd need a small enough, sustainable power source to actually run the hardware though, and a metal that could withstand a good amount of force without deforming and getting in the way of the inner workings, probably some kind of vibranium alloy. I've been trying to track down more since you started using that shield."
"But it's possible, right?" Steve wheedled, his tone at once skeptical and curious.
"There's quite a bit worked out at least on paper, along with my own research into similar concepts for armor-like applications. That's assuming a person could withstand long-term exposure to such a power source."
"Zola was experimenting on prisoners when I broke into that base. Peggy and the Colonel confirmed he was trying to recreate Dr. Erskine's serum. That's what kept Bucky alive. Howard, if you get this to work, I think it could help him. He's been trying to put on a happy-to-be-alive front, but I know it's eating at him what he's supposed to be able to do with only one arm."
The quirky engineer stared at Steve, then down at the sheets of paper in his hand, and back up. "For you, as a friend, I'll see what I can do when Phillips doesn't have me on priority projects. The only reason I have a break here is because my plane's currently grounded." To his credit, he tried to keep his expression neutral. Behind his eyes Stark was already running whatever wild processes through which he saw the world. "But for the sake of understanding, I can't promise it'll turn out all sunshine and daisies."
"I get it, the war comes first and all."
"Not just that…I can't promise I'll come up with something workable. It would have to be integrated into healthy enough bones, tissue, everything. That's not something you can really try multiple times. We would have to know exactly what we're doing, and it would need to go off without a hitch. Basically, we'd have to get as lucky as we did with you, let's be honest. Plus there's hoping he doesn't take a turn for the worse in the meantime."
"Just do what you can. I trust you," said Steve, suddenly distracted. An idea was quickly brewing in his mind. His gaze skimmed over the copious notes, then back toward the door. "And you may have already provided more solutions than you realized…"
"I'll dig through everything again. No way was Zola entertaining this level of detail without some real lead on how to make it happen—wait, what? Where're you going?" Stark called after him, but Steve was already out of sight.
Steve caught up with the doctor between wards. The older man's expression immediately turned to exasperation.
"Look, I don't have any more information for you than I did the last time you asked—"
"I know, that's fine. The main thing is that we know Zola didn't have the serum completely figured out. But mine worked, at least Dr. Erskine knew what it did. It's in my blood, right? What if we gave Bucky some?"
"First of all, the decision ultimately rests with Sergeant Barnes, not you," the doctor rebutted testily. "Second, the SSR has made just as little headway as to how the complete formula operates. I read the report on you. It was a complicated procedure that involved a lot more than just injecting something."
"Howard Stark worked on the machinery side of the project. He's here, on base—"
"It's not a panacea, Captain. Even yours won't magically cure everything, if the deterioration progresses faster than your regenerative capabilities."
Steve gripped the door handle to Bucky's ward, effectively blocking the doctor. "You mean the gangrene. Forget the serum question for a moment, then. In a normal case, what would we have to do head this off?"
"To be safe? Aside from the risk of other secondary infections, and given the damage sustained from whatever traumatic force caused the amputation in the first place, we're likely dealing with most of the remaining limb. A significant handicap."
"If we have to, we have to, to save his life."
"I know this is a subject of great personal import to you, really I do, but as a physician I am charged to do no harm—"
"So we let him suffer indefinitely? How is that any less harmful? If there's a chance this could work, a chance is better than doing nothing!"
"I'm not sure he would survive the procedure. In his current condition, surgery is an incredibly risky gamble compared to the relative stability he has now. I'm not comfortable making that sort of compromise. We simply do not have the means to handle it, I'm sorry. I wish it had been possible to reach him sooner. On the chance that command gives us an evac window, he will be on the first transport out of here. Otherwise, we have to work with what we can."
The doctor pushed past Steve, who had no choice but to follow. Dum Dum and Morita both startled at the abrupt arrivals, confused. The four of them met roughly halfway between the door and Bucky.
"Any news? The nurse said he's just about at the maximum allowance of morphine for the day, he finally drifted off again," Dum Dum quietly announced. "There's gotta be something else we can do."
"Please, Doc, so the worst that could happen is my idea doesn't work, and we'll be in the same position we are now. If it does work, you could get that window for more treatment options until we get him out of here!" Steve barreled on desperately.
"Say what now?" asked Morita.
"The serum, the stuff that makes me, well, this—it amplifies everything. Physical abilities, endurance, speeds up healing time, you name it. We don't have the machine they used, but the formula itself is still part of me. I think it could possibly help Bucky."
"What, like doing a blood transfusion or something?"
"We don't even know that we could get a meaningful concentration to yield any sort of benefit. It'll be dispersed throughout your system," the doctor cut back in.
The ward door BANGED open once more, heralding Stark's arrival, fluttering blueprint papers and all. "Wow, you run fast when you want to get somewhere. So did I miss something? What exactly did I solve without realizing it?"
"Howard, even if we can't outright pull the serum from my blood to make more of it, could we draw enough for it to have some effect on another person?" Steve kept going without missing a beat. He grabbed the engineer's sleeve to keep Stark's momentum from crashing into the group.
"I-I, well, possibly. The dose you were given has already interacted with a catalyst—the Vita-Rays, I mean, so that might help. I doubt it's going to be the same impact as, as generating the reaction within the subject, but—"
"We don't need the whole result, just enough to boost healing, give him a leg up. Maybe we can get lucky one more time, just a little."
Realization finally dawned on Stark's face. He turned the blueprints in his arms face down on the nearest table, fumbled for a pen he apparently no longer had, and grabbed one out of the doctor's pocket instead. Dum Dum and Morita kept trying to look over his shoulder at the calculations he was scribbling down, only to be pushed away for blocking the light.
"May I remind you, Mr. Stark, that this is a medical ward," hissed the exasperated physician. "I'm about ready to restrain and gag all of you, if that's what it takes to let me work!"
"What the hell is going on…?" Bucky's voice croaked groggily from a couple beds away. Steve pushed through the huddle to reach him. His best friend didn't even try to fight the leather straps he still wore due to incoherent, volatile nightmares. The scrapes and bruises were more or less gone by now, but the dark, gaunt hollows of his face had deepened. The sight put Steve at a loss.
"We're just discussing a couple options. Keep resting, we can take the conversation outside if we need to."
"That confident, huh?"
"You're going to get through this, you'll see."
"Look at me, Steve. I've been shot at, experimented on, blown out of a train, and nearly froze to death. Maybe I've run out my miles."
"Don't say that, Buck."
"This is war. We both knew going in that there was a chance we wouldn't come out on the other side." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to let talking wear him out. "What kind of options is the doc thinking?"
"Actually, it was kind of my idea…since we know you can handle the partial serum, maybe we could find a way to give you some of mine."
"Steve…"
"Doesn't have to be a complete fix, just enough to help you out. Then they can take care of the rest with surgery when we get you back to England."
"You sound a little crazy right now, you know that, right?"
"Stark thinks we could make it work. And you know what else? He's got an idea for a prosthetic arm that would work almost like a real one. Pretty much good as new, only metal, what do you think of that?"
Bucky let out a hoarse cough that might have been a laugh. "Definitely crazy. But I appreciate the optimism." He tried to smile as Steve faltered with the rebuff.
"Yeah, I guess it is. I'm not giving up on it just yet, though," Steve said heavily. Quiet fell in the ward, an uncomfortable lack of sound.
"Can't be worse than where I'm headed already…might as well try, I guess."
"What?" blurted Steve. The doctor and others had steadily crept closer, practically breathing down his neck. Stark emphatically gestured at his impromptu notes. Steve waved him off for the moment.
"I mean I'll do it," Bucky's voice barely made it above a whisper. "Not much left to lose, right? As long as you do me one favor. If it looks like I'm not going to make it…just let me go. When it's my time, it's my time, 'kay?"
"You'll make it, I know you will…"
"Go do whatever you need to do. I'll be hanging out here…" As if to emphasize the matter, Bucky seemed to be falling asleep as he talked. Steve let him.
"Sure thing, pal."