Chapter 24: Back to the Grave
Gravesen scheduled the dedication ceremony for Sunday July third. Bucky didn't know if they planned it to be so close to Steve's birthday or if it was a coincidence. All the Avengers had already planned to visit Bucky that weekend for Steve's birthday, and they were more than happy to go to Gravesen instead to celebrate something so remarkable. Nick asked him if he still wanted to have a party, but Bucky didn't think he'd be able to handle both a birthday party and the dedication. These days, he tired of social interaction much faster than he ever used to. As long as they still got to see each other, Bucky was okay skipping a year of all their other traditions. Hopefully, everyone else was too. If anybody wasn't, they certainly wouldn't tell him about it.
Dr. Lee had asked if Bucky wanted to speak, but he'd confidently declined. Public speaking had never been Bucky's strong suit. His Espy speech had terrified the crap out of him. Keeping his eye on Steve in the audience had been the only thing stopping him from shaking out of his shoes. Besides, he had no idea what to say about this. They'd heard his wedding vows; everyone already knew how he felt about Steve.
Bucky expected the ceremony to be on the small side; Gravesen was a busy hospital after all, they couldn't possibly gather too many people in one place without disrupting their daily operation. However, he was shocked to walk into the enormous conference room to find it positively swarming with people. Most of his friends beat him here. His chest warmed seeing all the people here to remember Steve.
Dr. Lee was the first to see him. "Mr. Barnes! So glad you could make it." He shook Bucky's hand with the warmest smile on his face.
"Of course. Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me…to Steve."
"It's well deserved."
Bucky's brain misfired repeatedly as he took in everything happening right now. Every time he blinked, he half-thought he'd wake up back in his house alone. But this was really happening. Dr. Lee was only the first of many people that approached him to say something nice or tell a little anecdote about Steve.
Dr. Erskine: "I'm not technically supposed to have a favorite patient, but he was definitely one of them."
Jim, with Timmy nodding along to his every word: "I hated every time he had to come here. I missed him, you know? And I was always so worried. But this is the first time I've ever truly understood what this place meant to him, that this was more than just a hospital."
Happy: "The ward missed him whenever he wasn't here. I'm glad some part of him will always be here. I'm actually supposed to be working right now, but I got Sharon to cover me for a few minutes so I could pop in."
Monica: "Carol would be so proud of him. Nobody deserves this more than he does."
Mr. Rogers: "It feels kinda weird, to know that a name I chose will be up on a sign here." He shuddered, and almost started crying right then and there before composing himself. "Before I knew…about the CF and everything, I used to wonder if he'd name his son after me."
Peggy: "I've never met a greater man than Steve."
Bob Lang: "You know, after Scott, I never wanted to set foot in this place ever again. But of course I'd make an exception for Steve. I will never run out of gratitude for all the things he did for him. He didn't even know the kid, and still treated him like a brother. It takes a special person to do that."
Dr. Wilson: "I know just how crucial positive role models are for the kids that come through here. Steve's the best role model of them all."
Mom: "I'm so proud of you both." Then, a crushing hug. "My boys." Sniffle. "Making their mark."
Nick: "I never thought I'd come back to the Grave for a good reason, but man if this isn't the best reason ever."
Bucky fluttered back and forth between near tears and unending joy. It was one thing to be told they were dedicating the ward to Steve, another entirely to see the ramifications of that dedication splayed out before him. All these people thought that Steve, his Steve, deserved this kind of immortalization. Bucky just wished Steve were here to see it. But of course, if he were, there would be no dedication in the first place.
Dr. Lee stood on a small pedestal at the front of the room and tapped the microphone. The conversation immediately fell to a hush. "Thank you all for coming. I know for most of you this past year has been unimaginably difficult. We lost a dear friend, son, and husband. What we are doing today cannot alleviate that grief, only honor his memory. Steve was not just a patient of this hospital, but an advisor and a guide to all that set foot here. Even now, his impact is felt by every child in the ward we now award his name, by the videos he crafted, the Gauntlet he created with another friend to Gravesen, Carol Danvers, and the book he wrote and illustrated with his husband, Bucky Barnes, who is here with us today.
"It is with great pride, but also with heavy heart, that I officially bestow upon the west wing of the sixth floor the name 'Steven Grant Rogers Pediatric Residential Ward.'"
He pulled a sheet off a stand beside him, revealing the sign which would hang in the center of the ward. It bore the name Dr. Lee just read in bold gold font, beneath it a brief biography of Steve, and to the left a photograph. Bucky had approved it; it was the same one used in the "About the Authors" section at the end of their book. He smiled, remembering the "professional" headshots they had to sit through before the book was published. It could hardly be considered professional because they were laughing at each other the whole time.
Bucky missed laughing with Steve most of all.
~0~
Being at Gravesen reminded him that he hadn't been to the doctor in two years. For the average person, that wasn't so bad. What was one missed check-up, after all? But for Bucky, it was…decidedly not good. He and Steve always coordinated their appointments, and last year, well, that wasn't possible. Steve had laid a plan for all his physicians to be informed of his death when it happened, so at least Bucky hadn't had to deal with calls from any of them wondering why Steve hadn't scheduled his clinic visit yet. Without Steve to remind him, Bucky simply forgot.
The hospital hadn't let him off that easy. They called him to remind him, but they happened to catch him at a time when his grief teeter-totter was balanced somewhere between anger and depression, so he straight-up told them he wasn't coming in. Bucky didn't have the energy to go through with making the appointment, and he didn't trust himself not to snap at them in the process. What was even the point anyway? They just needed to make sure he didn't have secondary leukemia or bladder cancer. Bucky almost wished he would get one of those so he'd have something else to worry about besides his own stupid emotions.
But that was last year. Now, it had been over a year since Steve died. Bucky's common sense had gradually been returning over the last months, and he knew he couldn't miss two years in a row. He called Gravesen to make an appointment for Thursday afternoon and told Lamberg that he'd have to leave practice early. That was the easy part. Bucky was terrified to go to this appointment alone. He had a sinking suspicion that the hospital environment and the needles would send him into a panic attack, and he didn't want to go through that alone. At the same time, he didn't want to admit to any of his friends that he needed company for a simple doctor's appointment.
Logically, he knew nobody would judge him for it. Most of his friends had their own medical trauma anyway and would completely understand. It was still hard to convince himself to pick up the phone and ask. He didn't want to make anybody miss work just to help him out, so that ruled out Josiah. Bucky texted Natasha to ask if she was free Thursday afternoon, without revealing any details as to why, but she had a shift. He considered asking Parker, but knew that he'd be looking after Carol May and Lanyon. Bucky didn't want them to go anywhere near Gravesen unless they needed to. That left Tony.
"Are you busy Thursday afternoon?" he asked.
Tony replied almost immediately. "That entirely depends on the rest of the information you're about to give me."
Okay. So Tony probably had something going on, but it was something he'd be willing—and maybe even eager—to get out of with a good enough excuse. Bucky scratched Alpine behind the ears for a confidence boost and explained the situation. "I have an onco appt and I'm kinda nervous to go alone."
"I'm there. What time?"
Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. This was the best possible outcome. No additional questions, no judgement, no patronizing, just a yes. He told Tony the time.
"Do you need a ride?"
Bucky didn't expect him to drive two hours here and then another two back to Gravesen, so he said no. The drive down for the ceremony had been fine; this one probably would be too. Everything he feared awaited only inside the hospital. "No," he told Tony.
"Okay. Anything else you need me to do?"
"Just be there. Thank you."
"Any time."
Bucky leaned over to kiss Alpine on the head. "We are so lucky to have such good friends." The cat meowed his agreement.
~0~
Thursday arrived much too quickly for Bucky's liking. He left soccer at their lunch break, and was struck with the same fear that hit him when he had his last day before neuroma surgery. What if he never came back? With all the physical symptoms of his grief, it was quite possible that cancer symptoms went completely unnoticed. On the drive down to Gravesen, he blasted forties big band music in the hopes of drowning out his thoughts. His favorite parking spot was open, though, which at least offered him a little boost of comfort. Tony met him in the lobby.
"Hey Bucky, how are you?"
"I'm okay. Thank you so much for coming. I know it's silly, but I haven't done this without Steve in…a very long time."
"It's not silly," Tony assured. "Everyone hates doctor's appointments. Whatever you need, just tell me what to do."
"Okay."
They journeyed up to the oncology floor and Bucky checked in with the familiar receptionist. When he told her his name, she perked up instantly. "Mr. Barnes! I barely even recognized you." He forced a smile and accepted the sign-in tablet she handed him. Of course she didn't recognize him. It had been two years, he'd let his beard grow in fully, and his hair was far longer than most people had ever seen it. Bucky handed back the tablet and sat down beside Tony.
"This is much nicer than the cardio floor," he stated.
"We'll have to stop there too. I'm getting an echo."
"Oooh, fun."
They shared a dry laugh over the obviously sarcastic statement. As soon as they fell back to silence, Bucky's anxiety began clawing its way up his throat. He usually spent his waiting room time texting Steve and worrying about how his appointment was going. That wasn't an option anymore. Just as he thought his hand might start to tremble, Tony struck up a conversation about the giant stuffed giraffe he dropped off at Parker's apartment.
"Was it a belated birthday present for Carol May?"
"No. Natasha's hosting a baby shower for Wanda and I'm not invited. But I still wanted to contribute something. It was actually Shuri's idea."
"Yeah?"
"She called me while I was in the store trying to figure out what to get."
"If you gave me a giant stuffed animal, Alpine would try to use it as a scratching post."
"Hence why I did not purchase a giant stuffed animal for you."
"Okay."
A pause. "So what normally happens at these things?"
Bucky listed off the regimen he knew so well. "Urine sample, blood draw, echo. They stopped doing bone scans once I hit ten years in remission, thankfully."
"Wow."
"How often do you have to get your device checked?"
"Every month."
Bucky whistled.
"That's down from the every two weeks it used to be. Hopefully we'll drop to every three months sometime soon. Since I'm the first one, they want really clear data. I have a daily monitoring binder the likes of Steve's."
"How's everything looking so far?"
"Perfect," Tony said, a hint of pride in his voice.
"That's amazing, man."
"Thanks."
Bucky's name was called and the lump of nervousness immediately regenerated in his throat. "You want me to come back with you?" Tony asked.
"No thanks. This part should be pretty quick." That was if they got a needle in him on the first try.
"Okay." Tony sat back down and picked up a magazine about sports cars.
A medical assistant handed Bucky the familiar sample cup and pointed him towards the bathroom. As simple as this part was, Bucky still hated it. Since he needed his hand to hold the cup, he had to sit down. It wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it was one of the only tasks he ever undertook that actually made him resent his disability. Getting the lid twisted back on was also an exercise in caution. In all the years he'd been monitored like this, he'd only spilled it once, and he had no desire to repeat that humiliating experience.
He successfully sealed the cup, washed his hand, and handed it over. They sent him to the lab for bloodwork. Bucky recognized the people working there, and his hard-to-access veins were referenced in his paperwork, but his stomach still coiled in dread at the thought of having to endure even one needlestick. The nurse sat him down and felt around the crook of his elbow and the back of his hand, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. "Historically, we've had better luck with your hand, so I'm going to get a warm water basin for you to soak it. It also looks like you're pretty dehydrated, so I'll grab a bottle of water for you to drink too."
Bucky always made sure to drink his entire water bottle twice at practice. He usually finished off the first one over lunch break, refilled it, and drank the other over the second half of the day. But, because he left lunch early, he never finished the first one. And he'd been running around in the July heat all morning. No wonder he was dehydrated.
The nurse came back with the filled water basin and placed it on the small table attached to the chair. Bile rose up the back of his throat at the mere sight of it. His palm began to sweat. "Let's give it fifteen minutes and see how that works," she suggested. Bucky plunged his hand into the water and took a deep breath to steady himself. She held out the bottle of water. He stared at it, then glared at her. It took her a bit to realize the problem. "Oh! Sorry. Here, let me." She unscrewed the lid and held it out to him again, fully prepared to tip it to his lips for him.
"Absolutely not," Bucky snapped. He refused to be fed like a child. "You don't have a straw or something?"
"I can check."
She left in a hurry. Bucky threw his head back against the head rest and sighed through his nose. The warmth of the water wasn't even remotely soothing. For Bucky, soaking his hand had never meant anything but needles and temporary handlessness. His fucking nose always chose blood draw prep to itch like crazy. He wanted out of the water so he could scratch it, but scratching with wet nails was never satisfying enough. When they eventually took his hand out and dried it off, that would mean needle time. Bucky thought about the multiple times they always failed, the blossoming bruises over his pale flesh and the ache in his teeth as he clenched his jaw against the repeated pain.
He didn't even realize he was having a panic attack until the nurse came back and started talking to him in that overly-steady tone that people used with frightened animals and children. Bucky reached for the grounding techniques that Dr. Raynor taught him, but he was too far gone to even think straight. "Tony," was the only word that managed to escape his mouth alongside rapid, heaving breaths. He yanked his hand out of the water and wrapped it around his knees, no regard for getting his pants wet.
That's where Tony found him when he was brought back. He crouched down to Bucky's eye level and called his name. "Look at me, Bucky."
Forcefully, he raised his head from where it had rested on his kneecaps.
"Count with me. In for five, four, three, two, one, and out for five, four, three, two, one." He repeated the instructions and Bucky strived to follow. Just listening wasn't enough, though. Bucky wanted to feel his steady heartrate, so he fumbled for Tony's wrist and attempted to find his pulse point. Tony used his other hand—unfair—and stopped Bucky's frantic search. "Bucky, I don't have a pulse, remember?"
No pulse? The notion was so preposterous that it stopped Bucky's spiraling thoughts in their tracks. Of course Tony didn't have a pulse. His heart didn't beat; the device implanted in it pumped blood continuously. "That's right," Tony encouraged. "My VAD circulates for me. That's what this bracelet says." He guided Bucky's hand to the medic alert bracelet that sat below his device's controller watch. Bucky ran his fingers over the engraving and felt his breaths start to slow.
"There you go. Deep, slow, breaths."
Bucky shuddered with relief and exhaustion and the shaking of his body seemingly shook the tears loose. Tony reached forward and wrapped him up in a hug. How long he cried into Tony's shoulder, Bucky didn't know, but he was definitely more dehydrated by the time he eventually stopped. "Do you need to go home now?" Tony asked.
"Don't wanna reschedule," Bucky mumbled.
"You sure?"
Bucky nodded. "Do you have a straw?"
"What?"
"Gotta drink water and soak m' hand."
"I always carry a reusable straw. You can borrow it."
"That's weird."
"It's environmentally friendly."
Bucky sat back in the chair and told the nurse he was ready to go again. "Are you sure?" she asked. "That was quite the panic attack."
"Can Tony stay?" Bucky thought as long as the other man was here, he could stop Bucky from slipping back.
"Of course."
She replaced the water, Tony offered Bucky the straw, and he spent the next twenty minutes leaning awkwardly over to sip from the straw—but at least doing it himself—and talking to Tony about other animals they'd want to see giant stuffed versions of. When time was up, the nurse dried off his hand and started palpating it for veins again. Bucky started to look towards her, but his breath hitched and Tony gently redirected his attention back at him.
"You know what would be horrifying? A naked mole rat giant stuffed animal."
"Yeah, that would be pretty nasty. They're cancer, resistant though." Bucky learned that in a documentary.
"Really?"
"Yep. And they have no internal clock mechanism because they live underground and day/night cycles are meaningless to them."
"Fascinating."
Bucky felt the needle slide in, and heard the nurse happily exclaim. She must've succeeded on the first try. That never happened. He resisted the urge to look, knowing the sight of his own blood would only make him squeamish.
"I wouldn't mind a life size stuffed ostrich."
"You could ride it."
"You could."
"What about a giant ant? Like an ant the size of dog," Bucky proposed.
"Cute."
"Cute?"
"Yeah. Parker made me watch this Phineas and Ferb episode where they join an ant colony. Their sister became the queen and her demands basically forced the ants to evolve through an Industrial Revolution, an Information Age, and then ascend to reach Nirvana."
"Are the creators of that show on drugs?"
"Probably."
"All done," the nurse announced. The tension leaving Bucky's body felt like releasing a dangerously stretched out rubber band. They continued their discussion of giant stuffed animals through the echo, and Bucky remained panic attack free for the rest of the appointment.
"Thank you so much, Tony," he said. "I couldn't have made it through this without you."
"You're welcome. It was either this or have a meeting with my childhood not-friend's father's company. This sounded way more fun."
"Yeah, it was a blast."
"You're incredible, Bucky. Remember that."
Bucky found himself blushing at the unwarranted praise. "Thanks. I'll try."
That night, he found the ant episode of Phineas and Ferb and watched it with Alpine. The creators were definitely on drugs.