Chapter 3: Bumps in the road
Chapter summary: Bucky's road to recovery is a rocky one.
AN: This chapter is a bit short, sorry (deciding where to put chapter breaks is the bane of my existence), but I hope you like it all the same :)
Overall, Jemma considered day one of Bucky's treatment to be a success. The results of his scans and blood tests were all trending in the right direction, and according to both him and Steve, his moods were already a little more stable than they had been previously.
Day two, though, didn't go quite so well. Jemma was working alone in the lab when she heard a wordless shout through the computer speakers. She snapped her head towards the security feed just in time to see Bucky pin Steve against the wall of the cell with his cybernetic arm. Bucky raised his other arm like he was about to punch Steve with it, but it landed so far wide of its target that Jemma could only assume Bucky was already regaining control of himself.
His fist smashed into the near-indestructible hexagonal wall tiles next to Steve's head, and Jemma winced in sympathy as his knuckles came away bloody. The arm across Steve's chest went slack and Bucky's head drooped forward, hair falling over his face.
Jemma gathered up her medical supplies to the sound of Bucky's rasping breaths and Steve's gentle, reassuring words.
"It's okay, Buck, you're okay. You didn't hurt anyone," Steve said over and over as Bucky slowly calmed. Once it looked like everything was under control, Jemma headed to the cell.
She got the all clear from Steve through the intercom first, then went in to patch up her patient. Steve acknowledged her with a nod as she entered, his brow furrowed with weariness more than worry, which reminded her that he'd been dealing with these aggressive outbursts for a good week already.
Bucky was sitting on the side of the bed, shoulders hunched and jaw clenched. His dull glare, partially obscured by a tangled curtain of hair, remained fixed on the opposite wall as she sat down beside him.
"Ouch," she commented lightly as she reached for his right hand. He let her take it but made no response, and her attempt at levity was left hanging awkwardly in the ebbing tension of the room.
She decided it was probably best to skip the small talk and just get on with the job at hand. She felt carefully for broken bones (amazingly there were none), cleaned away the blood and sewed up the split skin over his knuckles.
It certainly made things easier that he never fought her ministrations, that he let himself be 'handled', but it spoke of something darker, of a man who'd had no right to his own body for a long time, a great bear that was long ago tortured into submission and had learned there was no point in fighting back. Jemma tried not to think about it.
He maintained his silence throughout the process, but she liked to think the sullen edge to it was slowly fading. She noticed at one point that their legs were touching where they sat next to each other on the bed, even though she didn't remember moving that close to him or feeling him move closer to her. She was probably being ridiculous, but she fancied he was leaning into her touch, being soothed by it, even. There was a biological precedence for it. The body released endorphins when a person was touched, and Bucky's endorphin count was quite low, so it made sense that he would unconsciously seek out that type of stimuli.
She still thought she might be imagining it, but she slowed down a little in her work, became a bit less clinical in the way she touched him, and left her thigh resting comfortably against his. None of it was overt enough for Steve to notice from where he sat close by in one of the plastic chairs, but maybe it would make some small difference to Bucky.
He still hadn't made eye contact with her, but that morose stare had softened into something tired and sad that made Jemma's chest ache a little bit. She was almost tempted to tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss his cheek in a gesture of support. She settled for a gentle squeeze of his forearm, which finally made him look at her, and she took advantage of the opportunity to give him a small reassuring smile.
She applied some of her yet-to-be-FDA-approved all-round healing ointment, wrapped the whole hand up, and wasn't surprised when he refused the sling she offered.
When she stood up, her leg went cool in the place where Bucky's had been flush against it. "Let me know if there's anything else you need," she said to both men, then made her exit.
Bucky remained fairly subdued the rest of the day, but in a way that felt closed off, not relaxed. Jemma wished there was something she could give him, but his daily injections already contained the maximum dose of mood-stabilising medications.
A quick flick through the security footage the next morning revealed that Bucky had woken in distress several times throughout the night. 'Woke distressed' was the terminology she used in her log, at any rate. 'Woke in abject fear' was possibly more accurate. After the second time Bucky had woken both himself and Steve with his screams, and the way Steve had sat with him and soothed him in a tone suitable for a terrified animal until Bucky's harsh breathing slowed and his fingers stopped twitching, Jemma couldn't bear to watch any more.
When she switched back to the live feed, the hard night behind them was written on both men's faces; Bucky's especially, dark rings evident under heavy lids.
She was hesitant to just swan in with her tray full of needles as usual, so she pressed the button for the intercom first. "Good morning, gentlemen. Alright if I make my morning rounds?"
"Not really in the mood to be poked and prodded, kitten," Bucky drawled, and Jemma was glad to see that despite everything else, some of his personality and wry humour had returned. Also the 'kitten' bit. For some inexplicable reason she really liked it when he called her that.
"Okay, not to worry. Perhaps a bit later then," she said, and took her finger off the button.
Later wasn't really ideal though. It was best that he receive the injections at the same time each day if at all possible. She tapped a fingernail against the counter as she thought for a moment, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
Twenty minutes later she was standing outside the cell holding a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffees and a bag of donuts from the place across the road. She nudged the panel next to the window with her elbow, turning the one-way glass to two-way so they could see her.
Both men looked up in surprise as what must have looked like an opaque wall shimmered into transparency. Jemma bit her lip and smiled hopefully, trying her best to look endearing.
It must have worked because Steve's mouth quirked in amusement and a smile of defeat spread over Bucky's face.
Steve looked at Bucky. "What do you say?"
The next sound out of Bucky's mouth was practically a groan of want. "Let the woman in!"
AN: I'm so stoked to see so many people getting into this pairing. Thank you all so much for all the reviews, favourites and follows :)