Notes:
TW: injuries, blood.
I'm going to present Bucky's amputation a little differently than it is seen in film, so for reference, he still has the full shoulder and a short section of residual limb (lovingly called a nubbin or stump by some amputees) A compression sleeve wraps over the residual limb and has a metal port to allow the prosthetic to click on and suction to his shoulder snuggly. As far as neurological connection, we are going to assume fancy Wakandan Tech can transmit through healed skin.
Hopefully this helps make sense of the amputation/prosthetic situation.
"What are you doing here?" Bucky could have slapped himself for the first words out of his mouth. His correction wasn't exactly much better. "I mean, why are you… here."
"You haven't been by the gym." Stone answered somewhat flatly. Her hands were clenched and Bucky wondered if she was as uncomfortable with the current situation as he was.
"No."
"I guess… I just wanted to see if you were alright." She said shifting from one foot to the other.
Bucky was suddenly aware of his current state of undress and his ears flushed red. Thankfully all his injuries were above the waist and the nurse had allowed him to keep his pants, still he was exposed. Medical tape and specialized boning created a surface level splint for the five ribs he'd cracked but it didn't cover the rest of his chest or the raised ridge of scar tissue that circled his shoulder where Hydra's arm had once been directly grafted on.
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Are you alright?" Stone asked.
"I'll heal."
She was looking him over disbelievingly and he chanced a glance at his reflection in the glass wall of the med suite. The wounds had been attended to, cleaned and treated as necessary, but there were still trails of dried blood from his nose and mouth that had dripped and then smeared across his chest.
"It looks worse than it is." He said quietly, flexing his hand unconsciously. The meds were wearing off. "I heal fast."
"Do you want your prosthetic on?" Stone asked, stepping fully inside the room for the first time when Bucky moved to reach for it and winced as the brace tightened on his torso. "I could help, if… If that's okay?"
Bucky shook his head frustrated to be seen like this, angry that she saw his pain. Remembered Steve. "Fine."
Stone's uncertain body language was immediately replaced with detached confidence as she approached his side. "The pylon on your sleeve isn't clean, I'm not familiar with this style, is there a particular solution you use?"
"Yeah." Bucky answered in a half whisper, trying not to shrink away from her inspection. "I, uh, in my room. It's not… there's nothing here for it." Stone looked at him sharply, confusion in her eyes and perhaps something like anger. "It's Wakandan tech. And I, uh, prefer to handle it myself."
"Oh." Her face softened at the last admission.
It was an admission. He didn't like people messing with his arm, especially while it was still attached to him. It reminded him too much of Hydra's brutal manipulation.
They seemed to be at an impasse now, neither exactly sure of what to do or say next, until the silent standoff was interrupted by the appearance of the head nurse, a matronly woman, who bustled in and looked over Bucky's bandages and asked if his pain was being managed. Fine, he lied.
"Well in that case, you are cleared to go Mister Barnes; just promise me you won't take the rib splints off for at least three hours. And no fighting for twenty-four hours, you hear me?" She smiled at him and then at Stone. "Are you a friend?"
Stone shrugged and smiled for the nurse's benefit but Bucky though he saw a wince.
"Great, you can help him back to his room, three hours, then he can shower and take the tape off." She signed something on her clipboard, showed it to Bucky who also initialed it and then she bustled out of the room faster than she'd appeared.
After a moment had passed Stone stepped back and said, "you don't really need my help, I should go."
Steve. Steve needed to know when to ask for help. Steve would say the same for him. Maybe it was true.
Stone was halfway to the door when he spoke up. "Can you carry my arm up for me?"
"What?" she turned back, noticing his gesture at the prosthetic and nodded. "Oh, okay, yes of course."
Bucky rose to his feet, swallowing a groan and began to walk, not looking back to see if she followed, stepping lightly to avoid jarring his chest. Steady steps chased him and he resisted the urge to go faster as he approached the elevator and pressed the button. It chimed almost immediately and he stalked inside and pressed a security sequence for the private quarters. Finally looking up to acknowledge Stone he saw that she carried his prosthetic arm in a football hold across her stomach with one arm and grasped the wrist gently to prevent it from flopping back on itself. As though it was somehow human and breakable. The humorous thought of Shuri's reaction to such a display was quickly subsumed in the idea that perhaps Stone had done something like this before. Perhaps handled much more delicate circumstances than the one they were now in.
"What?" Stone asked, seeing his stormily changing expression.
"I… I just… I wondered." Bucky gestured at the arm. "If you've had to… do that, before."
"Carry a prosthetic?" Stone asked and he shook his head. "Oh... A few, yeah."
There was nothing he could say to that and so they stood in silence until the elevator doors opened again into a foyer-like room with mirrored glass doors on the far side. Bucky walked to the door and placed his palm on the biometric lock and an electronic voice spoke from a speaker in the ceiling.
"Bucky Barnes verified. Welcome home."
"Thank you, Friday; uh, this is Stone, she's with me."
"Very good." Friday answered back and the door opened for them.
A lounge adjoined a dining area that could serve two dozen people with ease. A small kitchen cornered the room and Stone merely glanced over the empty space as Bucky led the way down a long hallway to the right. They met no one initially and Bucky was just starting to let down his guard when Clint exited one of the guest rooms.
"You okay?" Clint asked, looking Bucky over with concern. "You never go to medical, what happened? Is everybody-"
"Just me. And I'm fine, Tony insisted I go, Nurse Betty let me out."
"Tony?" Clint said, his brows reaching for his hairline at the familiar use of his first name, but then he looked at Stone and asked about her instead. "Who's this?"
Bucky didn't move to introduce them and Stone stepped forward, adjusting her left arm under the prosthetic so she could clasp Clint's hand without dropping the mechanical one.
"Stone, I'm a friend of Sam's." She said evenly.
"Ah, climbing wall, I saw you the other day, man you're wicked quick." Clint smiled.
"I… didn't know I was being watched, but when Sam Wilson makes a bet, I just couldn't let myself lose."
"I'll make note of that for next time." Clint winked jovially and walked away so quietly that Stone could have imagined him to float over the floor.
Bucky placed his hand on the knob of his door and waited for the thumbprint to unlock it before turning the doorknob and stalking into the dark room. He flicked the light switch on as an afterthought when he realized Stone wasn't on his six anymore.
"Stuffs in here." He said, entering the bathroom and pulling out the kit Shuri had given him. Labels on every bottle proclaimed the use of each and a laminated sheet gave clear concise instructions on how to maintain his prosthetic arm. Stone followed him in and set the arm down on the clean marble counter.
Stone moved again into confident action, reading through the care guide and noting the labels before selecting two bottles and a soft cloth. "Would you rather clean your shoulder up yourself?"
Bucky pulled a stool from the oversized shower and sat on it with his head down, a silent permission. He felt relief as she began to work at cleaning the metal coupling for the arm. There were no sensors for this area and he couldn't feel it but it still made him feel detached. There was shame in the relief that it was out of his hands for the moment. Like being a child again and letting someone else handle the mess. Like being a machine.
As the asset he'd never had to make a decision for himself. Problem solving during a mission sure, but no real independent thought. When he was finally freed, he'd taken every step towards liberty that he could, even when it meant he was bone tired and still had to drag himself up out of the mud. He'd fought against Thanos's alien horde until his skin was stained with their blood and when it was over, he didn't ask for help, just dragged himself back to his old hut, collapsed on the floor when his legs gave up their strength and forced himself to carefully remove the arm and clean it properly before falling asleep where he lay.
Steve was supposed to let Bucky help him, and he was trying to understand what that meant as a woman who was in some ways a complete stranger cleaned his shoulder up, taking off the coupling sleeve and with a washcloth gently washing and drying the skin.
"Better?"
"Yeah." Bucky grunted. It was. It was humiliatingly liberating not to have to do it himself.
"You still want the arm back on?"
Bucky tilted his head, looking over at it and then shook his head no.
"Alright, well that's done then," she said, looking at him. "Unless, is there anything more I can do… Maybe get some of this blood cleaned up?"
Bucky shrugged again and she nodded.
The sink was filled with warm sudsy water and Stone went to work in sections. First, she laid a damp cloth over an area of dried blood and when it had sat for a minute, she'd lift it away and dab the area clean.
The unusual intimacy of her actions made him fidget and he tried not to watch her eyes as they inspected his skin. Grey rimmed with deep green and short fine eyelashes.
"Why'd you come?" He finally asked to distract himself from the feeling of her hands on his chest.
"Why'd you stop?" She asked in turn, still focused on dabbing away a particularly stubborn spot. "Come to the gym every night for months and then you show up with Sam once and nothing."
"You waited for me?"
She nodded once and he could have counted the freckles on the skin just under her eyes. "At first, I was just going to thank you. Sam's been cool and I've enjoyed climbing with him, getting back into it, I forgot how much I used to love it. And I… didn't have anyone else to talk to about it, but then you didn't show and I started getting angry. Thought- well, I realized you just felt sorry for me. So, I guess I just came to say thank you and apologize for spilling so much of my mess over on you, it won't happen again."
"No, you- didn't. no." Bucky stuttered as she worked across his collar bone, her face less than a foot from his.
"You don't have to explain Bucky, I just feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner." She said softly, her fingers trembled for a moment and he looked in the mirror to see the aging green bruise where Steve had punched him in the throat. "What happened to you?"
"Accident." Bucky said stonily. He knew she didn't believe him from the set of her shoulders and the way her jaw clenched. Life around the Avengers was dangerous. Stone was, well, not fragile exactly, but already wounded. Let Sam be her friend, Bucky had already done all that he'd intended. Mission accomplished. New mission: help Steve.
She worked on in silence and he let himself stare at her as she worked on his face, concentrating on not moving his mouth as she cleaned the blood from his lips and nostrils. Hating how the tender act made his skin tingle and steeled his jaw to stop himself from leaning into her palm. Fascinatingly contradictory; Stone had a tan but faint lines showed evidence of eyewear on her temples. Hard lines of her nose and pointed chin contrasted against the soft curve of her cheek and the comet streaks of green and silver in her irises. Bucky hadn't been this close to a woman, or really anyone in a very long time and he'd forgotten what the texture of skin looked like, pores and scars and the barely-there hairs that gave a halo to her sun-bronzed skin. Darker hair escaped from her hairline in tiny perfect tidal waves and there were several piercings he hadn't noticed before. Miniscule stars making new constellations on her ears.
"Done." She said, standing back quickly when she noticed his eyes on her. Bucky wondered if he had imagined the blush creeping up her neck; it was gone before she'd turned away and wrung out the cloths.
"Ok."
"I'll… I'll see myself out then." She paused at the door and seeing he had nothing more to say, nodded her farewell. "Take care of yourself Sarge."
Bucky slumped onto his bed with a dissatisfied sigh. It was over. His newfound purpose had been tied up in the mission of getting Stone help. Now it was done and despite Steve's even greater need, he felt somehow bereft.
His nightmares were riddled with her face: through the scope of his rifle. On the floor with Steve and Tony all three locked in a death grip. Cold in an open coffin as he presented a folded flag to a faceless family.
2:17am Bucky pressed the sequence to open the gym's back door, seeing the small light blink green with disbelief. There were no lights on and he checked the back office, disappointed and relieved to find it empty.
There was a note on the fridge.
-Stay hydrated, and no fighting for 24 hours. SM
A whole shelf of the little fridge was filled with the grape electrolytes he preferred. Bucky took one and settled on the couch, falling asleep after a few minutes and waking just before dawn to sneak away before anyone saw him there.
Notes:
Bucky's come so far, but healing is cyclical. So -in a sense- is this story. Bucky is back to the beginning, realizing he knows nothing about her and deciding its better this way. Just strangers, leaving sticky notes.
But nothing really stays the same, does it?