**Potential warning: if the scene in TFA where Bucky was rescued from Zola's lab was triggering for you, exercise caution with this chapter. (It's just references though, not explicit details.)**

He was still in the war. Zola was experimenting on him. It had all been a dream; he was flat on his back, something restricting his movement, an IV in his hand pumping god knew what into him. The terror was overwhelming even though he knew escape was futile. His body was acting on its own, scrambling to get out of the bed and get the IV out of his hand, but almost instantaneously there was someone straddling him, pinning him firmly down.

"BUCKY. Stop fighting. Shhh. Shh. It's me. It's Steve. Calm down. You're safe. Stop trying to move. You're going to hurt yourself. Shhh. Bucky, stop fighting. It's me. You're safe. BRUCE. SEDATIVE. Shh, Bucky! Calm down! You're safe here. Stop struggling, you're going to hurt yourself."

He fought the effects of the sedative for a moment, but it overwhelmed him rapidly and he sank back into the pillows, limbs too heavy to move and racing thoughts slowed. Pillows. Bed. He knew the man holding him down. Yes. That was Steve. He wasn't being experimented on. He was in bed, shirtless, all sorts of bandages and tape and things on his torso and shoulders, an IV in his remaining hand, feeling like he'd been run over by a tank.

"You okay now, Bucky?" Steve asked him. "Can I safely let go of you?"

Bucky drowsily dragged his eyes to Steve's face. "Yeah. 'M okay now." He mumbled, "What 'appened?"

Steve lightly dismounted the bed and sat down on the edge to wipe the sweat from his friend's forehead with a damp cloth. "I found you unconscious in the hall. Called Bruce to come help me- he's a doctor- and we got you stabilized. Are you aware you've got bruising and pulled muscles in your right shoulder, six broken ribs, and significant tearing on the left side of your chest where your flesh attaches to the metal arm?"

"Yeah. 'S just a flesh wound. Metal's anchored to the bone. Got pulled funny at some point."

"I'm guessing a strong shearing force at just the wrong spot at some point when the helicarrier was collapsing around you. That attachment point would be a weak spot. " Bruce contributed, coming over to take his vital signs. JARVIS could have done it remotely, but Bucky probably wasn't ready for the AI just yet. "Nice to meet you Bucky, I'm Bruce. Your chest wound is infected and you seem to also be experiencing withdrawal from whatever drugs Hydra routinely used on you, so I'd imagine you feel pretty rotten right now. I've treated your injuries and infection and we're going to try to manage your withdrawal symptoms as best we can to keep you comfortable, but you're going to be on bed rest and IV medications for a bit and restricted activity for a while after that. You're really lucky that Steve found you when he did and brought you here where you have safe access to medical care. Now, if you're feeling like you can handle it, I'd like to take a look at your chest and make sure you didn't pull out any stitches just now."

"M'kay." The air felt too heavy to resist. He might as well let them do whatever.

Bruce tactfully retreated with a promise to check in again in a few hours once he'd reassured himself that Bucky's stitches were intact. Steve immediately rounded on his friend.

"You want to talk about that?"

"Not really." Steve gave him a hurt look. It worked; Bucky gave in, as he probably always had even if he didn't remember it. "...I thought Zola was experimenting on me." He admitted.

Steve was instantly at his side. "Oh my god." He paused a moment, then kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, easing himself in so that Bucky was halfway in his lap. "Oh Bucky. You're safe now. Nobody is ever going to do that to you again. I'd rip them apart with my bare hands if anyone tried."

Maybe it was how sick he felt, or how tired, or emotionally raw, or how drugged out he was, or how warm Steve was, but Bucky didn't have it in him to complain about being held. He was too weak to do anything but turn his head slightly to bury his face in his friend's shirt. Steve let him.

After a moment Steve spoke. "That's not what I would have preferred you remember, but you are remembering things. Overall, that's a good sign." Idly he began running his fingers through Bucky's long hair.

"Yeah." Bucky mumbled into the soft flannel. "S'pose so."

"How much do you remember now?"

"C'nceptionally I know who we are, an'… you evoke the feelings that I think you're s'posed to evoke in me. Actual memories are pretty foggy 'n' patchy though."

"That's progress. Is it helping when I tell you stories?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to hear more stories now?"

"Wanna sleep." Bucky instinctively nestled in tighter to the warm body holding him, dignity and guilt be damned. He was too out of it to muster a flying fuck to give just now. "Yer warm."

"And you probably are suffering chills." Steve pulled the covers up higher around him. "Do you want a bedtime story so you dream of happy memories not bad ones?"

" 'Kay."

"There was one time when we were about twelve that we skipped school to go to the circus..."

"Come on Bucky!" Steve exclaimed, trying to drag his bigger friend faster. "I think I can see the tent!"

Bucky rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on Steve's jacket sleeve. "Slow down before you give yourself an asthma attack or faint or something. We don't wanna attract attention."

Steve slowed down a little. "Are we gonna get in trouble?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and shot his friend a sly grin. "Don't worry. Nobody's gonna notice you skipped school. You're out sick so much nobody even says anything about it to your ma anymore. She thinks you're at school and Miss Collins will assume you're at home in bed and neither one will ever be the wiser. Now," He looked at the tent critically, "Only adult left to sneak this past is the ticket seller."

Steve eyed it too. "Tent's up against a wall on one side. Do you think we could get over it and under the tent flap?"

"That's a bit tall. But if I give you a boost up to the top at that spot where it's missing a bit, then I should be able to climb that tree over there and get from that branch onto the top of the wall myself..."

"...so the circus actually ended up being really good, and to this day I think that trick pony is still my all-time favorite performer." Steve finished, looking down fondly at his lapful of drugged cuddly sick assassin. Bucky was fast sleep, seemingly peacefully, and Steve was effectively pinned down. There were worse fates.

Waking again triggered another wave of terror, but Bucky fought it. He was groggy, but he knew he was safe. He knew that. He wasn't being experimented on. The IV in his hand was there because he was sick. It was fine. Nothing was going to hurt him here. Right?

Someone was rubbing his remaining arm. "Breathe, Bucky. You're alright. You're safe. Relax. Just breathe. Nice and steady."

A long-forgotten memory stirred. Him kneeling over Steve, tiny little pre-serum Steve, rubbing his back and saying almost the same words as Steve fought an asthma attack.

Steve. Yes. That was Steve talking to him now. He opened his eyes, fully oriented again. "You've stolen my line."

That surprised a laugh out of Steve. "Yes, I suppose I have. You remember?"

"Yeah, I do. A little anyway. Boy were you a pipsqueak."

"Jerk."

"Punk." The retort popped out automatically. Steve's expression told him it had been the right thing to say.

Steve fondly brushed a tendril of hair out of his face, a poorly disguised excuse to feel his forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I only got run over by half a tank."

"That'll be the drugs working. It'll take a while for the antibiotics to actually get rid of the infection, but Bruce said the other stuff in the cocktail he mixed up for you should decrease your symptoms a lot. Keep your blood pressure up and your fever down and counteract unpleasant withdrawal symptoms and stuff."

"So feeling better doesn't mean I can get this stupid needle out of me?" Bucky didn't mean to let a pleading tone creep into his voice, but Steve picked up on it anyway.

"I don't remember you being scared of... Oh. That's what's triggering you, isn't it? The IV. Because of the experimental serums they tested on you."

"Sorry." He felt so stupid. He shouldn't let a little needle have this effect on him. He was a grown man and a soldier for fuck's sake. But it was bothering him. It was bothering him a lot. He couldn't even look at it, and every time he thought about it all he could think about was being strapped to that table, being experimented on. And now he was thinking about it, and he knew it was over and he was safe, but he couldn't not think about it.

Steve clearly picked up on his thought process, because he pulled his friend the rest of the way into his lap and held him as tightly as he safely could. "Nothing to be sorry about. You have every right to be traumatized and scared."

"Just gotta deal with it. Not like I have a choice."

"We can make it easier though." Steve told him. "If you're willing to accept our help, that is. We won't force you to do anything. But if you want, Bruce can get you some anti-anxiety pills to take while you still need the IV to help you feel less scared by it, and my friend Sam is a counselor with the VA and I bet he'd be happy to come work with you on dealing with that fear and all the stuff you've been through." Bucky made a scornful noise. Steve rolled his eyes. He'd seen that one coming. "Won't make you do it, just want you to know that the option is there and nobody will think any less of you if you take it."

I don't like that Bucky looks not quite like his tough self these first few chapters, because I'm definitely in the camp of him not being some emotionally broken wreck. He's a fighter. But on the other hand, we know Hydra drugged him (for instance, in the bank vault scene in TWS, there are two IV bags hung, suggesting that they were giving him more than just fluids in that scene and I'd presume did so routinely) so he most likely would experience withdrawal symptoms after escaping, he got the crap beat out of him on that helicarrier between Steve and the fallen beams, and Sebastian Stan has stated that he studied veterans with PTSD to prepare for the role. So it's a safe bet that despite being one tough cookie Bucky would not be feeling too good shortly after the end of the movie and would have PTSD even if it isn't always visible.

Also yes I know therapists aren't supposed to treat people they know. (I used to work in psych.) But Steve grew up in a time when your doctor was also your neighbor and made house calls at all hours and all that and psych wasn't a field people really ever came in contact with, so Sam occasionally has to remind him.

The official plan is that warnings go in italics at the top of the chapter, surrounded by bold asterisks. That should make them easy to pick out without reading them, so you can decide for yourself whether you are concerned enough about potential triggers to risk vague spoilers or whether you're concerned enough about vague spoilers that you'd rather scroll past and forego warning about things that some people may prefer not to read.

As for crediting my sources of inspiration, since this site doesn't like links, the best way seems to be to create a Pinterest board linked to my public cosplay page to which I add things as I post the chapters in which they get used. You can find that at pinterest ciaranchameleon / refs-for-sch /