Steve spent most of the rest of the week in the medical tent. For the first few days, Bucky slept a lot, and Steve didn't want to leave him alone. Especially not with the nightmares. They'd been decreasing in frequency, but hadn't disappeared entirely. Bucky had told him as much as he could remember about what the little scientist—Zola—had done to him in the lab, and by the time he was done, Steve couldn't believe that he only woke up screaming some of the time.
He was meeting more with Phillips, now that Bucky seemed to be on the mend, though the Colonel didn't often deign to hold their meetings in the medical tent. He'd been going over the intel Steve had given him, Howard had been experimenting with the tech he'd brought back, and they were starting to come up with a plan. Steve's information combined with reports from the former prisoners about what was being produced in the factories meant that Hydra was becoming more of an immediate threat than they had realized. Phillips had also, still somewhat begrudgingly, decided that Steve had proved himself to be the best man to lead the offense. Steve got the feeling Peggy had played a key role in convincing him of that, and he was equal parts grateful and terrified. They were going to be shipping back to London at the end of the week to convene at SSR headquarters before deciding anything final. Most of the men who'd been rescued from the factory were being sent away from camp for some R&R before returning to active duty, and a lot of them were going to London. Steve hadn't needed to pull too many strings to make sure that's where Bucky was headed once he was cleared to leave.
Bucky's condition was improving rapidly. The rest and the antibiotics were kicking the pneumonia, and at the end of the day after Bucky had first woken up, Eddie came by with more good news.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Eddie said, pulling aside the curtain.
"Hey, Eddie," Bucky said. He pulled his arm out from under the blanket and extended it. "Am I gonna have any blood left by the time you're done?"
"What? Oh, no, I'm not here for that," Eddie said. "Well, actually, no, I do need another sample before I go, but that's not why I came."
"Did you guys figure something out?" Steve asked. Bucky looked over at him and then up at Eddie nervously.
"I've got good news," Eddie said with a smile. "We're seeing a significant breakdown of the compound in your blood, and, even better, the components are being absorbed into the bloodstream and working their way out of your system."
"Really?" Steve asked.
"I'm going take some more samples to make sure, and once you get to London you'll need to go in for a full physical, but at the rate it's going, your body should be clear of everything Hydra put into it by the end of the week," Eddie informed him.
A disbelieving smile was growing on Bucky's face. "It's really going away?" Eddie nodded. "I'm gonna be okay?"
"You're going to be fine, Sergeant," Eddie said with a smile.
A relieved laugh bubbled up out of Bucky's throat, and he turned to grin at Steve. "I'm gonna be okay! Thank you," he said, turning back to Eddie. "Thank you so much."
"Well, I've actually done very little," Eddie said. "But you're welcome."
He nodded and moved to leave. "Wait," Bucky called. He held out his arm again. "You said you needed more?"
"Oh, right," Eddie said, coming back in. He pulled a clean syringe from his pocket and took a sample. "Thank you."
"What'd I tell you?" Steve said with a grin as Eddie left.
"Yeah, yeah, you just know everything, don't you, punk?" Bucky said, still smiling. He'd tried not to talk about it, but Steve knew he'd been worried. Hell, Steve had been worried too—Eddie's initial report had not been encouraging, and Steve's stomach had been twisting itself into knots for the past two days as he tried to figure out what to do.
Bucky blinked and shook his head a little bit and didn't fight Steve as he pushed him back to lie down again. "Dizzy?" he asked.
"A little light-headed," Bucky said. He sighed. "I hate being sick. I don't know how you did it all the time."
"Practice makes perfect," Steve said with a smile. "You're probably light-headed 'cause you haven't eaten." Bucky was on the road to recovery—he sounded better, felt better and stayed awake longer—but he still looked pretty rough. He hadn't gained back the weight he'd lost in captivity, and even though he'd been sleeping almost twenty hours a day, he still hadn't slept enough to get rid of the dark circles around his eyes.
"I really don't feel like eating," Bucky sighed.
"Well, you should still try it," Steve said, pulling over a tray. "You'll get better faster." Bucky shook his head. "I'll sit on you and make you eat this," Steve said.
"You wouldn't dare," Bucky growled. He had often used that threat on Steve when he'd been little and sick.
"Eat the sandwich and I won't have to," Steve said, smiling inwardly. He hated Bucky being sick, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't longed for the day that he could turn Bucky's threat back on him.
"You're a terrible person, Steven Rogers," Bucky grumbled, grabbing the sandwich. It took a long time, but he got it down and managed to keep it down.
"See? That wasn't so bad," Steve said.
"Shut up," Bucky told him sleepily. He yawned. "I'm gonna thump you when I get better."
"Looking forward to it," Steve said with a smile. "Because you are gonna get better."
"Yeah," Bucky smiled, his eyes sliding shut. "Thanks, Stevie."
Five hours later he woke up with a strangled gasp, sitting up abruptly in bed, wild eyes staring sightlessly at the wall. Steve reached out and wrapped his hands around his arms—by now he'd learned that physical contact calmed Bucky down much faster when he woke up and didn't know where he was. "Buck? It's okay, Bucky, you're okay," Steve said.
His breath hitched in his throat a few times as he tried to remember how to breathe. "Steve?" His eyes darted around the tent and he started breathing slower. He pulled his arms out of Steve's grip and scrubbed his hands down his face. "Sorry," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."
"Buck, it's okay," Steve told him. Color rose in Bucky's cheeks as he leaned back against his pillow.
"I just wish I could get a handle on this," Bucky sighed.
"It's been three days," Steve reminded him gently. "No one's expecting you to just be okay all of a sudden. I'm not." Bucky didn't meet his eyes, and Steve continued. "Hell, I've had nightmares about what you told me they did to you, and I wasn't even there." That got Bucky to look at him. "It's okay," Steve finished, willing Bucky to believe him.
Bucky sighed and didn't say anything, but some of the embarrassment faded from his cheeks. He shifted against the pillow, sitting up a little more. He would be awake for a while now, Steve knew. "Hey, Steve?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know if…I should've asked this earlier, but all this stuff with Hydra and my blood and everything put it clean outta my head…Do my folks know I'm okay?"
"I don't think they knew you were missing yet," Steve told him, thinking back a few days to his conversation with Phillips before the rescue mission. "Phillips was writing condolence letters the other day, which is when I found out you were missing, but I don't think they got sent anywhere before we came back."
Bucky nodded. "That's good. That's good, I wouldn't want them to think I was…" He shook his head. "Would you, I mean…Would you mind checking? Just in case it did get sent. I need to write them anyway, but if a letter telling them I'm dead is going to get there before mine…"
"Sure," Steve nodded. He turned and pulled a notebook from the bag by his chair. "Here. I'll go and check with Phillips, and you can get started on the letter if you want."
Bucky smiled. "Thanks, Steve."
Phillips was a little hard to track down—Steve supposed coordinating the return of all the POW's had put a lot on his plate—but he finally found him in the make-shift science lab with Howard. Howard was incredibly excited about something he'd just discovered in whatever it was that Steve had brought back and was explaining it at great speed to the Colonel, whose eyes were glazing over. It would seem Steve was a welcome distraction.
"No," Phillips told him. "They never got sent. I hadn't finished with them, and then I was otherwise occupied when you ran off." He gave Steve a look and Steve had the grace to look embarrassed. "So, no. No one thinks anyone's dead yet."
"Thank you, Sir," Steve said.
"Agent Carter and I have been looking into people for your team," Phillips continued. "If you have input, have it ready by the time we get to London," he finished, turning back to Stark.
"Yes, Sir," Steve said, nodding and exiting the tent. He hadn't thought about a team yet. It did make sense that no one wanted him storming Hydra bases alone. Steve certainly didn't want that, even though it had worked once. Bucky would probably have an aneurysm.
He didn't necessarily know anyone around here well enough to put together his own team…Although, some of the guys who'd helped after the escape were pretty impressive. He knew some of them were from Bucky's unit. He'd ask Bucky about it. And, of course, he wanted Bucky on the team. That much was a given.
Back in the med tent, Bucky was still awake, sitting up in bed and working on his letter, absently eating a sandwich as he wrote. Steve grinned. He must be feeling better if he was eating voluntarily. "How's the letter coming?" he asked.
"Just about done," Bucky said, swallowing the last of his sandwich. "I didn't really go into detail about the labor camp. Do I need to add any sort of explanation, or…?"
"Phillips never sent the letters," Steve replied. "So, no one thinks you're dead. Just…maybe not so good at writing letters."
"Very funny," Bucky said, folding up the letter. He sighed. "They haven't heard from me in a month. They may not have been told I'm dead, but they're probably starting to worry."
Steve sat down on the end of the bed. "You're in a war. They'd worry even if you sent a letter every day."
Bucky tilted his head in agreement. "Were they alright when you left?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I didn't see them after…all this," he said, gesturing at his chest. "But they were all okay. I saw them a few times a week. Your ma kept having me over for dinner and then complaining that I didn't eat as much as you did." Even though he'd signed up with Erskine the same night Bucky left, it had been a little while before he went anywhere.
Bucky chuckled. "That sounds like her. If she could see you eat now, though…" He shook his head. "Hey, so, yesterday…or this morning, or whenever it was Eddie was in here, he said something about London?"
"Yeah," Steve replied. Bucky looked at him like he was waiting for him to elaborate, so he did. "We're going to London at the end of the week."
"Why?"
"Phillips is meeting with the S.S.R. brass there. They're working out something for a strike team against Hydra." He'd gone over this so much with Phillips that he couldn't remember if he'd talked about it with Bucky yet. Apparently he hadn't.
Bucky nodded. "So, that's why you're going to London. Why am I going?"
"They're sending everyone from the camp out for R&R. Since I'm headed for London anyway, it seemed easier if that's where you went too. I'd have to get you there eventually," he explained, confused as to why Bucky needed it explained.
Bucky sighed deeply, looking down. "You don't have to do that, Steve," he said softly.
"Do what?"
"I'm getting better. I can do my R&R wherever, and then I'm good to go back to the front. You don't have to drag me around and babysit me."
"Babysit you? No, Bucky that's not—"
Bucky looked back up and smiled, but not with his eyes. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me, Steve. You've got your whole thing going now, and you're gonna do great. I don't wanna be in the way. I've got my unit—I can go back there, and I'll be fine."
"You wouldn't be in the way, Bucky," Steve said. He couldn't figure out where this was coming from. He couldn't interpret the look in Bucky's eyes, either. He didn't look angry, or upset. He looked…sad, but Steve couldn't figure out why. "And you're not coming to London because I feel sorry for you. I want you to come because I, I need you there." It hadn't occurred to him that maybe Bucky wouldn't want to join his team. Although…he didn't think that's what this was.
Bucky huffed a humorless laugh. "No, you don't," he said quietly.
"I don't what?"
"You don't need me," Bucky said. "You've got this, Stevie."
"I don't—Bucky, of course I need you," Steve insisted.
"For what?" Bucky asked softly. "This is your show now, man, you don't need me holding you back. You can take care of yourself." He kind of smiled—what was probably supposed to be an encouraging smile, but just sort of looked resigned—then looked down at his hands.
Steve blinked, dumbfounded. He got it now. He didn't believe it, but he got it. Bucky actually thought…"Bucky," he began, shaking his head. "I don't…" He sighed. "Four days ago, I stormed a Nazi weapons factory alone in the middle of the night with a prop shield and a handgun. What the hell do you think I did that for?"
"I'm guessing the four hundred prisoners of war had something to do with it."
Steve bit his lip and shook his head. "I didn't do it for them." Bucky looked up at him in surprise. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad I was able to get them out and they're okay, but I went in there for one person." Red rose in Bucky's cheeks and he looked down again. "I don't need you because you take care of me when I'm sick or fight off bullies in back alleys. I need you because you're my best friend. Hell," Steve huffed. "Forget friends, you're my brother. Yeah, maybe I can fight my own fights now, but…" He shifted closer and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm always gonna need you, Buck."
For a long moment, Bucky didn't say anything. Steve knew this whole change was weird for him. He'd known it was going to change some things. But not for one second had he thought that his newfound strength would make Bucky feel like he was worth any less to Steve now.
Bucky looked up at him, studying his face intently for any hint that Steve had said any of that out of pity. Steve had meant every word. He hoped he looked like it.
Bucky finally nodded. He smiled—just a little one, but it reached his eyes. "Okay," he said quietly. He shook his head, huffing an embarrassed laugh. Red still colored his cheeks. "You must think I'm an idiot."
Steve squeezed his shoulder warmly. "No," he said simply.
Bucky shook his head, running his hands back through his hair. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't've…" He sighed. "Apparently, wrapping my head around this is more work than I thought it would be."
Steve smiled encouragingly. "It's fine. And, you know, I know it's weird. It took me like a week to stop running into things." He grinned as he saw that get a smile out of Bucky. "It still catches me off guard some of the time. So, however long it takes you to process it, it's fine. Just know that the only thing that's different is that I'm taller now. That's it. You and me? Nothing's changed." A thought occurred to him and he grinned. "Well," he amended with a smirk. "That's not entirely true." He waited until Bucky was looking at him. "I don't think you can toss me over your shoulder and carry me to the clinic anymore."
A surprised laugh bubbled out of Bucky's throat, accompanied by a genuine smile. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "You didn't talk to me for, what, a week after that?"
"I was twenty-four years old and you carried me down the street like a sack of potatoes."
"If you had just gone to the clinic on your own…"
"I was fine."
"You couldn't make it through a single word without hacking up enough mucus to fill a coffee cup."
Steve grimaced. "That is disgusting."
"You were disgusting," Bucky countered, still chuckling.
Steve smiled, his mission accomplished. There was a spark back in Bucky's eyes he hadn't seen since they'd parted ways in New York. They were gonna be alright.
"So," Steve started. "You wanna know where the name 'Captain America' came from?"
Hello, gentle readers! Slight interruption from the author here. As we all know, the experimenting that Zola did on Bucky was what allowed him to survive the fall from the train. However, for the two years that the Howlies were running their missions, nobody seemed to find anything strange about Bucky and how fast he healed. Steve puts the pieces together in The Winter Soldier, but he seemed to have no idea beforehand that that would have been the case. (And who would know Bucky better than him?) Therefore, my theory is this: At the time, Bucky was just another lab rat—not anyone special to Hydra—and whatever they put in him was experimental and not fully functional. It broke down enough for no one to notice it was there—because of course they're going to run medical tests on the guy who was experimented on by Nazis—with just a tiny little bit of it left bonded to his cells or whatever that they missed. Not enough to give him super-healing on the regular, but just enough to kick in when his body is threatened with death. It keeps him alive and Zola gives him a more amped up version while turning him into the Asset. So, there you go. Enjoy the rest of the story. Author out.
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