little-guy-from-brooklyn

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Happy birthday to me, huh?

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Steve spent a good hour wandering throughout the rows of books, periodically picking up one and glancing at the back covers to get a sense of the plot, and picking out the ones he thought Bucky might actually enjoy. Natasha offered a few recommendations and by the time he returned to the hospital, he had a good sized pile of books to hopefully keep Bucky entertained over the next two days.

He spoke with one of the directors of the unit before leaving, discussing his concerns with the fact that the staff had forcibly sedated Bucky the previous evening, and felt confident when he left that the staff would know better than to do that another time. He was a bit disappointed that even the name Captain America hadn't been enough to earn him a second visit with Bucky but he accepted the news without much argument, given the assurance that he would be able to visit with Bucky the next day.

His evening with Natasha was fairly quiet, with her briefing Steve on any and all updates regarding the situation with the White House and discussing what methods had already been taken to resolve the situation. With difficulty, he managed to convince himself to wait on action until all of the other situations had been resolved.

The news had come back from Stark that Steve's blood was clean, with no trace of the serum present in his body any longer, but Stark had recommended continued monitoring of Steve's vitals and blood to be certain there weren't any concerns. Natasha had taken that job quite seriously, checking his vitals almost as often as she had been when he was declining, and Steve was comforted to note that thus far everything had been normal. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that Stark had mentioned there could be lingering effects - headaches, weakness, maybe even the occasional heart arrhythmia - given that he hadn't experienced any of those yet.

Natasha forced him to get some rest and he didn't protest too much, knowing that his body was still recovering, and he was somewhat surprised to awaken in the morning and realize he'd slept quietly throughout the night.

Natasha was awake and watching the news when he came out and he took a moment to listen for any hints that there had been significant updates in the White House situation, which of course there hadn't been. She convinced him to go out to breakfast with her at a local diner and he tried not to think too hard about all of the times he'd sat with Bucky in similar diners or the reason that Bucky wasn't with him now. She noted his mood but didn't press him to talk about it, for which Steve was grateful.

Upon the return to the hospital, he met with the director once again, this time to discuss the possibility of Bucky being released early on account of good behavior and lack of suicidal ideation. The directed hedged and didn't give Steve a precise answer either way and Steve hoped that wasn't an indication that she was already feeling pressure from the government to release Bucky into custody after the 72 hours. As they escorted him to Bucky's room, he made a mental note to discuss that possibility with Natasha and figure out any methods possible to avoid that from happening.

Upon entering the room, he offered Bucky a slightly stronger grin than the one he'd managed the previous day and said, "Hey, Buck. How're you liking those books? They enough to keep you out of trouble?"

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

———-

Bucky stretched, careful not to pull the IV out.

"That’s okay," he said. "Not a lot to talk about anyway that they won’t reprimand you for, I imagine."

He looked over at the nurse and back at Steve.

"That’s the worst part about being here, I think," he said idly. "Besides the crushing boredom, I mean. Nobody will talk to me. The first nurse that watched me exchanged pleasantries with me, but even she barely talked. The other ones? They don’t say shit unless it’s to call in another staff member. Makes it harder to distract myself from the aforementioned boredom."

The nurse checked her watch and put her book down.

"Five minutes," she said. "Don’t argue. I don’t make the rules."

Bucky was simultaneously saddened and relieved. He didn’t want Steve to go, but they really couldn’t talk about much with the nurse present. Certainly nothing they needed to talk about. So while Steve’s departure would mean he would have to go back to reading and hoping that the books would be enough to keep him from reliving the events of the past day, it would also mean he wouldn’t have to worry about saying too much in front of the nurse.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

If anyone seemed about to argue, it was Steve. His mouth opened, a fully formed protest ready to go, and then he stopped himself. Bucky was right, it wasn't as though they could talk openly here, and based on the difficulty he'd been having maintaining and focusing on the conversation, some distance might be helpful.

Truth be told, he would have been happy to take a seat in the corner of the room and sit in silence with Bucky for the next 48 hours. Mind numbingly boring, yes, but at least he would have been able to keep an eye on his friend. To look at him and know that he was still there and that he was alive, which would be reassuring after almost losing him again, not that he'd known until after the fact.

He offered Bucky a faint smile and said, "It seems it's time for me to go. I'll bring back some books as soon as I can and I'll be back to visit as soon as they let me."

Even now, he had to check himself and fight back the urge to cover Bucky's hand with his own or gently squeeze his shoulder, just to offer that physical contact, but he was more than aware at this point that the gesture would cause more harm than good and it would be for his own benefit rather than Bucky's. With all of their history and now the confusion between interacting with Bucky versus interacting with Yasha, he was back to having those difficulties remembering boundaries that he'd worked so hard on.

"Take care of yourself, Buck," he said softly as he stood up. "Try not to let the boredom get to you. You've only got to make it two more days."

He reluctantly stepped out of the room, throwing a last, fleeting glance at Bucky before stepping out, and allowed himself to be led out of the ward. When he returned with the books, he'd make certain to discuss his concerns - and anger - with them sedating Bucky due to a miscommunication rather than because he was an active danger to himself or others.

Natasha was waiting for him at the front door of the hospital, apparently convinced that he could at least make it that far on his own without getting into significant trouble or danger, and his first - and only initial - words to her were, "We need to find a bookstore."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

-—

Bucky thought about it. The list of things he wasn’t allowed to have was so long, it was difficult to think of anything not on it. And what little he was allowed to have wasn’t particularly mentally-stimulating, so more of the same wouldn’t exactly be of any help. Except for books, but it was kind of a long shot.

"I’m not allowed electronics," he said, "or anything else I could hurt myself with. About all I’m allowed is books and playing cards."

He paused.

"More books would be nice, though," he said. "I’ve already read all the ones they let me have. I, uh, read pretty fast. And the person who decides what books I’m allowed to have isn’t here today, so I haven’t been able to get any more. I’ve been rereading the ones I have, but they’re less and less able to distract me from the crushing boredom the more I read them."

He looked at the nurse, who was passively reading her own book.

"And between you and me, I could use some books that aren’t for kids," he said. "Treasure Island is good and all, but I’d appreciate something different. No crime novels, though—not that they’d let me have them.”

Bucky shifted again on the mattress, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"I think I’ll survive regardless," he said. "It’s only a day or two more."

He would survive hospitalization, sure, but what would happen after? Would they release him into Steve’s custody like they had the last time, or would they give him to the authorities? He honestly didn’t know which it would be, and that unnerved him, though he was too sedated to feel outright panicked about it.

"Do you think they’ll just let me go?" he asked quietly. "Or will they hand me over to the feds?"

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"Books I can do," Steve promised. He was already reviewing a list in his head of some particularly lengthy books that would hopefully hold Bucky's interest for the next two days. "I'll grab them after I leave and drop them off as soon as possible."

In response to Bucky's half-joking comment about not breaking him out, Steve said, "Well, there's been a limit of excitement in my life lately so a jail break sounds like exactly what I need to liven things up again."

He wasn't going to let anyone hurt Bucky again, that much was certain. Too much of the damage done to Bucky had been his own fault and given that he hadn't been able to protect Bucky from HYDRA, he'd be damned if he were going to let his own government harm Bucky in any way.

"Yeah, the name Captain America tends to get you pretty far," Steve agreed. "Throw that together with mine and Natasha's combined charm and you've got a recipe for success. You'll be out of here and back home in no time."

He hoped that would be enough. Especially with the ongoing situation with the missing president, Steve was uncertain of what barriers might be thrown into his way. He had no doubt that HYDRA had been responsible for the situation at the White House and for damn near killing him - or actually killing him, if he were to be honest with himself - with those drugs. With the vice president, who'd just so happened not to be present when the rest of the White House staff had been taken, current in charge, Steve knew he wasn't the only wondering if HYDRA had made their move and they were currently in checkmate and just didn't know it yet.

With his own condition declining and then Bucky's suicide attempt and hospitalization, Steve had been keeping the situation with the White House in the back of his mind but he knew he'd need to act eventually. He'd mentioned his concerns briefly to Natasha and she'd told him to shut up and that they'd talk about the situation once Steve had been healed up for a few days and she could guarantee he wasn't going to relapse again. That had, admittedly, frustrated him but he knew she was right. He'd gone in the last time without a plan and gotten Bucky shot, not to mention damaged himself all the more.

He realized he'd become lost in his thoughts and not been focused on what Bucky had been saying. Forcing himself back to reality, he offered a slight smile and said, "Sorry, Buck. I guess I spaced out there for a moment."

He hoped Bucky wouldn't view that as a concern given Steve's recent brush with death. Even moreso, he hoped his lack of attention and focus was not indicative of any lingering problems from his near brush with death.

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

-—

Bucky thought about it. The list of things he wasn’t allowed to have was so long, it was difficult to think of anything not on it. And what little he was allowed to have wasn’t particularly mentally-stimulating, so more of the same wouldn’t exactly be of any help. Except for books, but it was kind of a long shot.

"I’m not allowed electronics," he said, "or anything else I could hurt myself with. About all I’m allowed is books and playing cards."

He paused.

"More books would be nice, though," he said. "I’ve already read all the ones they let me have. I, uh, read pretty fast. And the person who decides what books I’m allowed to have isn’t here today, so I haven’t been able to get any more. I’ve been rereading the ones I have, but they’re less and less able to distract me from the crushing boredom the more I read them."

He looked at the nurse, who was passively reading her own book.

"And between you and me, I could use some books that aren’t for kids," he said. "Treasure Island is good and all, but I’d appreciate something different. No crime novels, though—not that they’d let me have them.”

Bucky shifted again on the mattress, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"I think I’ll survive regardless," he said. "It’s only a day or two more."

He would survive hospitalization, sure, but what would happen after? Would they release him into Steve’s custody like they had the last time, or would they give him to the authorities? He honestly didn’t know which it would be, and that unnerved him, though he was too sedated to feel outright panicked about it.

"Do you think they’ll just let me go?" he asked quietly. "Or will they hand me over to the feds?"

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"I'll bring you some books," he promised. "I'll try to find some long ones that might at least take you awhile longer to read them. If you think of anything else that's on the approved list, I can try to get that to you as well."

Bucky's last question was harder for him to respond to, given that he'd been thinking about that all day and brainstorming possible ways of handling that situation with Natasha.

"I don't know," he said after a moment, settling on honesty for the time being. "Natasha's been keeping tabs on any information that could give us an idea of what they're planning. That said, regardless of what they're planning, you're coming home with me. I'm not accepting any other option."

If he had to break Bucky out of the psychiatric ward early to prevent that from happening, he would, and if they tried to move Bucky before then, he would break him out of wherever they were keeping him.

"You've been through enough," he said quietly. "I'm not going to stand back and watch if they try to lock you up, I'm going to do something about it. They're not taking you into custody."

He could only imagine what the government would do if they got ahold of Bucky. He liked to think the worst case scenario would be putting him on trial but there was a part of him that wondered if certain branches of the government were corrupt enough - or deeply infiltrated by Hydra - to the point where they might try to use Bucky as a weapon again.

He shook his head to remove those thoughts and gently said, "But don't worry about that now. Me and Natasha are handling it and you'll be out of here soon enough."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

"The sedatives are…a lot right now," said Bucky after some thought, "but the regular dose isn’t bad. They’re just taking precautions, you know, because I’m a, uh, special case."

He shifted on the bed, unable to get comfortable. By all means, the drugs should have made him pleasantly content with his situation, but they only seemed to make him mildly uncomfortable and unable to think straight without real effort.

"It wouldn’t kill me to be in here the full three days," he admitted. "It’s painfully boring, just sitting around reading, but at least they’re not trying to pick my brain apart."

He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stand up to intense scrutiny, so it was a relief that they weren’t bothering to make him talk to any mental health professionals. He was mostly certain that they would make him talk to one before he left, but so long as it was just a quick check to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself or anyone else, he figured he’d be able to handle it. It was the multiple sustained sessions with therapists that he was afraid of.

"Did they tell you I had an incident last night?" he asked. "Nothing bad, I promise. Just an example of miscommunication and jumping to conclusions. They assumed I was fighting them when I was just asking to be allowed to stay up longer, and they forcibly sedated me."

He paused.

"For the record, I didn’t have any nightmares while I was out, but it wasn’t a pleasant way to sleep regardless."

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"Yeah?" he inquired. "Maybe you could help catch me up with some of the things I've missed. It's been a slow process and every time I think I've caught up, I find out about something else I missed."

He noted her comment about the relationship between herself and the wrecking of the status quo and while he was quickly developing a hypothesis about her, he determined that filign that information away for future research would be a better option than asking questions. Although he'd recognized her name and the pantheon she belonged with, he was still mentally reviewing the list of gods and goddesses in his head to remind himself what she was the goddess of.

In response to the continued discussion about signing contracts for his soul, he offered a slight grin and said, "That's a relief. I'll keep that in mind, though, if I ever run into any angels or demons."

When she mentioned her relationship with her family, the pieces started falling together in his head. That was right, she was the goddess of discord and strife. He reviewed the hierarchical family structure in his head, trying to identify the different relationships among the Greek gods and goddesses.

"Yes, now that you mention it, I do remember that," he said after a moment. "And what kind of trouble have you found here on earth?"

"I am curious about how a goddess would even know about me," he acknowledged. "I would have thought you had better things to do than keep up with earth’s heroes." It felt a bit awkward to refer to himself as such, not proper or humble, but he hadn’t come up with another method of getting the meaning across.

"Well, I’m glad to hear you won’t be going for my soul," he said with the trace of a grin. "I’m rather attached to that." He neglected to question whether, in those dark ages, she’d ever had someone sign a contract for their soul.

"What brings a goddess to wander the earth?" he inquired after a moment. He hoped that fell under appropriate questions to ask, as he was curious. Thor, for instance, only came down from Asgard when that was necessary. He wondered what would make another god or goddess choose to spend their time among mortals.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"That's something at least," Steve murmured, making a mental note to speak with the staff before he left and remind them to refrain from any attempts at therapy with Bucky. The last thing he wanted was for a hot shot psychiatrist or psychologist to think they could make some sort of breakthrough with the Winter Soldier and end up causing irrevocable harm.

He felt frustrated with his inability to make an immediate change for Bucky. Even though he could understand the need for the sedatives, he hated seeing his friend drugged and trapped in a room with nothing but a mattress on the floor, a few books, and a nurse keeping watch.

His frustration was heightened by the fact that he was fairly certain Bucky was no longer a danger to himself - after all, Bucky's latest attempt on his life only occurred because he believed Steve was dead - and he couldn't view the hospitalization as help for Bucky. If anything, the hospitalization was likely to cause more harm than good because Steve couldn't imagine that this room and the constant administration of sedatives were doing anything good for Bucky's mental state.

At the mention of an incident, he frowned and made another mental note to talk to them about not forcibly sedating Bucky unless he presented an immediate risk of harm to himself or another person. 

"They didn't mention that to me," he said carefully, "and while I'm glad you didn't have any nightmares, I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen again."

At a bit of a loss for what to do to help his friend, given the overall situation at hand and the restrictions placed on both of them, he finally simply asked, "Is there anything you need that I could get you or do for you? What's going to help you get through the next 24 to 48 hours?"

He was only half-joking as he added, "I could always see if they'll toss down another mattress and let me stay here with you."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

Bucky spent the hours until Steve was allowed in reading, quickly burning through the books he’d been provided. He asked for more, but whoever was in charge of deciding what books were appropriate for him to read was off for the day, so they told him to just reread the ones he had. Which he did, though it was more difficult to concentrate this time.

Honestly, being locked up in the psych ward was more boring than stressful. Bucky knew he had to appear normal for them to release him at the end of his 72 hours, so there was some pressure to keep himself calm and polite, but he was confident that he could maintain his composure. The most difficult part of this so far was the waiting.

After the first nurse left, the others didn’t talk to him unless he asked them a direct question, and even then, they only answered if it was necessary. Which wasn’t often, so Bucky felt more like he talking to a brick wall than a person.

He was glad that they hadn’t put him in with the general population, though, as boring as being in isolation was. His arm was instantly recognizable to anyone who hadn’t been in the psych ward since before things went down with HYDRA, and while some of the patients were probably obviously delusional and/or paranoid enough that no one would believe them if they told anyone they’d seen the Winter Soldier during their stay, a good number of them would probably be viewed as reliable enough to be believed. And that was a headache he really, really did not want to deal with, because the people that had seen him walk into the hospital when Steve had—he stopped himself and, with difficulty, switched trains of thought.

Bucky went back to his book, which was much less interesting the second time around but still readable. He tried not to wonder how long it would be before he could see Steve, because doing so would just make him anxious. He ate the lunch provided to him with the same mechanical idleness he’d eaten breakfast, and he immediately picked up another book when he was done.

It was only when they changed the IV bag that he realized they must be letting Steve in soon. The new bag had sedatives in it that were stronger than the ones he’d been administered since he was admitted, and they made him feel sluggish and unsettlingly numb. But they were going to let Steve in, and that made the effects bearable.

When he finally heard a nurse say “Right this way, Mr. Rogers,” he put down his book and tried to look like he wasn’t completely drugged out of his mind. Which he wasn’t, exactly, but he was drugged enough that it would take some effort to appear normal.

"They gave me a lot of sedatives," he warned Steve even before greeting him, "so I’m sorry if I sound strange."

He paused.

"But, uh, yes. You definitely look better than I do," he said with what passed for a smile. "The nurse isn’t leaving, by the way, so I’m sure you won’t want to say anything too embarrassing while you’re here."

He gestured to the nurse, who didn’t react.

"I’m glad they let you in," he said quietly. "It’s boring as shit here."

He thought for a moment.

"But not terrible. At least I don’t have to interact with the other patients. Pretty sure the staff are too worried someone will recognize me and there’ll be a riot. So there is a silver lining here, I guess."

Bucky picked at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

"So are they keeping me the full 72 hours, or are you gonna bust me out of here early?" he asked.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Steve frowned the slightest bit when he took in the condition that Bucky was in and knelt down beside him, politely declining the offer of the nurse who'd accompanied him to bring in a chair.

"Are they treating you alright?" he asked softly. "Are the drugs they're giving you too much?"

He'd already determined that he'd stay as long as the doctors and nurses let him, and he said as much. "Since you need some entertainment, I'll fight to stay here for as long as they'll let me."

Granted, he wasn't certain how he would manage to maintain a conversation with Bucky for that long, given that their conversations lately had been limited since he'd either been with Yasha rather than Bucky, or Bucky had been furious with him for what he'd done with Yasha.

In response to Bucky's question about the time frame, he said, "Well, you've been in here for about 24 hours already. Me and Natasha have been working on trying to get you out early but I'm guessing that it'll still take another 24 hours, if it even works."

He neglected to mention that there was a part of him that was seriously contemplating grabbing Bucky and running out of the ward with him. On the one hand, he wasn't sure he was physically up for doing that yet, but furthermore he didn't want to accidentally harm anyone who tried to stop him, especially since as far as he could tell, Bucky wasn't being mistreated in any way. Finally, he also didn't want to hurt Bucky by touching him, given Bucky's aversion to contact, and there was no way he'd be able to get a sedated Bucky off the ward without physical contact occurring.

All in all, a jail break definitely wasn't in the cards for the moment.

"It definitely won't be any longer than 72 hours, I can promise you that, and I'll be visiting you tomorrow regardless."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

Bucky watched them go, sadness and apprehension and a hint of pure panic turning his mind into a whirlwind of what ifs. He was irrationally afraid that Steve would suddenly relapse and die while Bucky was locked up in the psych ward,

The first thing they did was search him. He obviously had nothing on him, but it was standard procedure. When they were satisfied that he hadn’t brought anything in with him, they gave him scrubs to wear instead of his hospital gown, which he gratefully accepted. Not that he actually minded the hospital gown, but it was more comfortable to be wearing proper clothing.

He was instructed to remove the laces from his shoes if he wanted to take them in with him, but he decided to just give them his shoes and go barefoot because taking the laces out of his boots was too much of a hassle. The nurses put his boots, the only thing they’d let him keep when he was brought in because his jeans were covered in blood, away in a back room, promising that he would get them back when he was released, and handed him over to another nurse.

They led him into a private room that was literally just a room with a mattress on the floor. No decorations, no windows, and the walls were painted a drab grey. The nurse told him he was prohibited from closing the door, which prompted Bucky to ask why there was a door at all. She smiled at him and completely avoided his question, telling him that he would have to ask a staff member if he needed to use the bathroom and that someone would accompany him if he did.

A nurse pulled a chair into the room and handed him a small stack of books. She had her own stack of books, slim westerns. The books she gave him were all children’s books, like Treasure Island and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but Bucky didn’t mind. They would pass the time, at least, and if he ran out of books to read, he could probably ask if they had more in their undoubtedly sparse library.

Unexpectedly, another nurse brought in an IV stand and told him to sit on the mattress so she could insert the needle. When he asked why, she told him that they were keeping him sedated for safety reasons. Bucky didn’t know whose safety they were looking out for, but he knew he couldn’t argue or they’d inject him with one or more of the giant syringes of incredibly powerful sedatives that everyone who had dealt with him in the hospital thus far had had on them. Better to let them keep him on a lower dose of a less-debilitating sedative than fight them and be reduced to a drooling lump on the mattress.

The first nurse stayed with him for six hours, minus bathroom breaks where she called an aide in to stay with him for a minute. Having a nurse right there made it easier to ask when he had to use the bathroom, though she always called for a male staff member to take him to the nearby bathroom—probably to make him less embarrassed, but he wouldn’t have really cared either way. The short walks to the bathroom, dragging the IV stand along with him, were the only exercise he would get while in the psych ward, it seemed.

When Bucky finished one of the books he’d been given, he asked the nurse if he could borrow one of hers. She told him that she wasn’t technically allowed to let him read anything that hadn’t been pre-approved for him, but she handed him the shortest one anyway and told him to make sure he finished it before her shift ended. It was interesting, though not particularly well-written, and he finished it and had it back to her shortly before she had to leave.

At lights out (which was really a misnomer in his room, as they kept the lights on), Bucky wanted to keep reading, but the staff told him he had to sleep. When he told them he didn’t want to, they took it as a sign of belligerence and, while he protested and tried to tell them that he wasn’t trying to fight them, injected him with a syringe of the heavy-duty sedatives and left zonked out with the new nurse assigned to watch him.

He woke up six hours later, confused and terrified that he’d lost time to the Winter Soldier until he remembered his little conflict with the staff. Bucky remained awake after that, but he didn’t bother to get up. They probably would have made him go back to bed anyway. 

Finally, though, it was time for breakfast and therefore time to get up, and Bucky ate mechanically just to keep the staff from getting suspicious of him. He also didn’t so much as wince when they changed his bandages and remarked on his quick healing. Bucky wanted to be on his best behavior, because one of the nurses let slip when they brought him his food that if he was good, he might be allowed a visitor later.

Idly, Bucky wondered whether Steve would be able to talk the hospital out of releasing him to the authorities when his involuntary psychiatric hold was over. If he could convince them to let him see Bucky, maybe he might be able to swing it, but Bucky wasn’t entirely convinced. His natural charm might have worked once, but it was less than a week later and he was back in the hospital. Whether he could talk them into letting him go again was entirely up in the air at this point.

But there was really no sense in worrying about it now. Bucky settled back down on the mattress, picked up a book, and began to read.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Natasha remained in Steve's room throughout the majority of that day, settling down in the chair beside the bed and tucking her legs under her while she read. Steve slept quietly thanks to the sedatives and when he finally woke up, it was already evening. He was still tired and groggy at that point, which worried Natasha the slightest bit since his metabolism should have easily burned off the drugs by that point, but she ignored that for the time being.

This time, the round of tests were a bit more intensive, with an EKG and MRI included, to rule out any further concerns about his heart and any potential brain damage. With all tests coming up negative, Natasha's level of concern decreased, and eventually Steve was told to get some sleep - he pointed out he'd already slept through most of the day but his protests were ignored - and that there would be a final round of tests in the morning, including a stress test on his heart. If the final tests turned out negative, the doctors promised him that he'd be released. Confident that would be the case, Natasha made a few calls to obtain clean clothes for him and to make other arrangements for when he left the hospital.

Since Steve wasn't exactly tired, Natasha had stayed up to talk with him well into the early hours of the night. She'd done what she could to help him process everything that had happened recently, particularly his feelings of guilt surrounding Bucky's most recent suicide attempt, and she'd studiously averted her gaze when she noted his obviously discomfort with the tears coating his cheeks and waited to meet his eyes until he'd had the chance to compose himself.

All in all, he was doing better than she'd anticipated and she hoped that once Bucky was released, he'd be closer to stability. After he finally fell asleep, she caught a few hours of sleep herself and awakened well before he did in the morning. She waited until he did wake up and took the opportunity to assess his condition before the doctors came in. She quickly noted that his eyes were brighter and more focused and his muscle coordination, which had been variable and lacking the previous day, seemed as good as usual.  

She offered him a pair of track pants and a t-shirt shirt before he was taken off for his final round of tests and watched from the doorway as he completed the stress test. Given that his biggest difficulty seemed to be matching his pace to the slow one required for the test, she felt fairly confident that he'd be released. His heart rate remained within normal limits, as did his pulse and respiration, and it was no surprise to anyone that he was allowed to sign out of the hospital and released.

Immediately, he asked to see Bucky and his request was denied, although he was told he'd be able to visit later. Natasha, who'd assumed as much, just lightly tugged on his arm and said, "We'll be back then. Come on, Rogers, let's get you cleaned up and presentable."

He followed her out to the car and it wasn't until they were driving that he asked, "Where are we going?" and she informed him, "My apartment." Surprised, he questioned, "You're bringing me to your apartment?" and she offered him a half-smile and said, "One of them."

Once in her apartment, she barely let him get a good look around before she shoved him towards the shower, with the words, "You still look somewhat like shit. Shower. Take care of yourself. Shave that monstrosity of a beard off your face."

He accepted the orders and quickly determined that her suggestion was well taken. Simply going through the motions of washing his hair and shaving was comforting and made him feel like he was back in a daily routine where everything was normal and not as fucked up as it had been over the past several days.

He found another clean t-shirt, pair of jeans, and boxers sitting outside the bathroom door and changed into them, feeling almost back to his usual self for the first time in days as he wandered into the living room. Natasha tried to entertain him over the next several hours, throwing on her favorite movies for background noise, making sure he ate something, and ignoring the hole he was wearing in her wood floors due to his constant pacing.

When the time finally came to return to the hospital to see Bucky, Steve was standing by the door before Natasha had even grabbed her keys. On the way to the hospital, he tried not to think too hard about what condition Bucky might be in when he saw him. He doubted the psychiatric ward had done anything for Bucky's mental state and he only hoped the hours spent their hadn't pushed him even further over the edge.

The length of time required to gain access to the psychiatric ward frustrated him, as did the fact that the hospital was only allowing one visitor, which meant Natasha would have to wait while Steve saw Bucky. Dropping his name and rank likely sped up the process substantially and shortly afterwards he found himself standing at the locked entrance to the psychiatric ward, escorted by a nurse. Once buzzed through the main doors, she led him to the private room that Bucky was kept in.

Steve took the moment before he stepped through the door to take a deep breath and center himself. The last thing Bucky needed was to see any sign of distress on Steve's face when he came inside. He stepped through the doorway and immediately registered the lack of decoration and lack of a proper bed before his eyes fell onto Bucky and he attempted a small smile.

"Hey, Buck," he murmured. "See? I'm actually standing this time. The doctors say I'm back to normal. Even released me this morning."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

Bucky attempted and failed to smile at Steve’s words.

"You worry about yourself," he said. "I can handle being locked up in here for a few days. Not very easily, but I can handle it."

He glanced at Natasha when she spoke.

"It better," he said. "I’m tired of being thrown from one crisis to another."

There was a short silence, and Bucky sighed.

"You should probably get some rest," he told Steve reluctantly. "You’ve been through a lot. You need to focus on regaining your strength."

He paused. He’d been through a lot, too, of course, and he probably also needed to sleep. His body was definitely not up to snuff, sedatives aside, and it might not be for awhile. He shifted on the hospital bed into a cross-legged position, unable to quite get comfortable.

A nurse entered the room and told them gently that Steve and Natasha had to leave. They had to run more tests on Steve, and Bucky was supposed to be moved to the psych ward now that he was stable and awake, because they needed to free up his bed for the next recovering patient. Bucky nodded and gestured to the door.

"I’ll see you when they let me have visitors," he said calmly.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Steve wanted to argue when nurse told him that he and Natasha needed to leave but he remained silent. For one, he wasn't certain how well this conversation would progress if it continued; the entire time he'd had the feeling that it was teetering on potential disaster, and for two, he knew he needed rest and had the suspicion that Bucky likely needed rest as well.

"I'll see you soon," he promised Bucky. "Take care of yourself." 

He was silent while Natasha wheeled him back to his room and continued not to speak while the nurses drew his blood, tested his reflexes, and triple-checked all of his vitals. The general consensus, from the limited information they were giving him at the conclusion of each test, was that everything seemed to be working appropriately. His reflexes were the slightest bit off but no one could determine whether that was due to the sedatives in his system, the fact that he'd technically been dead only a few hours before, an enduring effect of the drugs in his system, or some combination thereof.

Natasha remained close to Steve, only stepping away when she received a call from Tony, which she took outside the room. When she came back, she informed Steve, "Your blood looks good. Normal. No trace of the drug still bonded to you. We're going to have to keep monitoring your blood over the next few days to see if anything changes but right now it looks like you're going to recover completely."

He nodded, looking visibly relieved, and then asked, "Do the doctors think there's going to be any complications from my heart stopping?"

"It's too soon to tell. They want to keep you overnight at the least, maybe longer depending on how you're looking. When I talked to Stark, he seemed pretty certain that your body would be back to normal, which means your fast healing should be taking care of any potential complications."

Steve hoped that was the case. Not being able to trust his body over the past several days had been crippling for him after getting used to being able to do anything and recover from any injuries.

Natasha offered him a faint smile and said, "For now, you need to rest. I'll be nearby, we're working on getting additional guards to keep an eye on you, but with both you and James hospitalized here, I don't want to go too far."

She didn't bother to note that her reluctance to leave was more related to the fact that neither Steve nor Bucky were potentially stable at this point and while Bucky was theoretically being treated for the mental health side of those concerns, Steve wasn't being taken care of in that way.

She'd already requested another dosage of sedatives for him in the hopes that would lead to a few hours of rest. The doctor had looked at her strangely because Steve hadn't appeared particularly out of control or in need of sedation but she assured him t was necessary. Just because he was able to maintain control of himself behaviorally and emotionally speaking didn't mean he wasn't on the verge of breaking down internally.

"Drugging me again?" he inquired when another nurse stepped into the room with a syringe.

"I figured you could use some sleep," she said softly. "You're a mess right now, Rogers. You've been through a lot over the past few days and that's nothing compared to what you've gone through over the past few months."

When Steve started to argue, she cut him off immediately. "Look, it's quite evident that you're not exactly good at taking care of yourself, so I'm going to make sure you do. James will be fine and there's nothing you can do for him right now anyways. Sleep, recover, and when you wake up we can figure out what to do next."

Steve offered no further protests as the nurse injected him and waited silently for the drugs to kick in. It wasn't until his eyelids were growing heavy and he was having a progressively harder time keeping his eyes open that he murmured, "Thank you, Natasha" and fell asleep before he could hear her response of, "Don't mention it, Rogers."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

"It if had not been this, it would have been something else," said Yasha with a shrug. "You put yourself in danger distressingly often. And at least we all survived this time."

He carefully withdrew his hand and gave Steve what passed for a smile.

"The last thing your friend needs is the hospital knowing I’m here, too," he said. "I doubt the guard over there will say anything; they undoubtedly do not pay him enough to rat on patients. But if the doctors were to see me, they would likely try to commit us for longer. I am, after all, technically HYDRA’s lapdog. Or was, rather, but they can’t be certain of where my allegiances lie."

He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his bent legs, careful not to pull the IV out.

"I do not want to cause more problems for him," Yasha said. "So while I may be lurking just under the surface, you won’t see me again until he gets out of here."

Yasha paused.

"I think our body is calm enough now," he said. "I can feel him clawing his way back to the surface. So for now, goodbye. I admit I am conflicted over whether I wish to see you again, because while I care for you a great deal, if I make another appearance, it will be because something has gone wrong."

Yasha closed his eyes and let the rush of static, which had been slowly building as his body stopped dumping stress hormones into his system, overtake him. A moment later, Bucky opened his eyes and, after looking at the clock on the wall to see how long he’d been out, went over the conversation he hadn’t been present for.

"At least you didn’t kiss him this time," he said before he could stop himself. "Shit, sorry. I’m—just forget I said that."

He ran his metal hand through his hair and sighed.

"This is just a fucking mess," he said. "But he’s right; at least we all survived it. I just hope that the doctors let me go at the end of their little 72-hour psychiatric hold, if not sooner."

To Natasha, he said “Thank you for getting Steve here so fast. If you’d been even five minutes slower, we might not all be talking, here.”

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"Goodbye, Yasha," Steve said very quietly, his eyes flickering towards the guard and trying to gauge if he would need to keep the man silent in some way, shape, or form. A glance over his shoulder at Natasha gave him all the information he needed to know, in that she would be handling the situation if there were any situation.

He registered the change in Bucky's body language as he came back and did his best to regain his composure and control his facial expressions. Of course, all of that work fell apart in response to Bucky's words as he flinched and recoiled as though he'd been slapped. This time it took him a good minute to pull his expression back under control and he studiously kept his gaze lowered, unable to meet Bucky's eyes.

It helped that Bucky addressed Natasha at that point, taking the pressure off of him to come up with a response. She glanced down at Steve before speaking and lightly rested her hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"You're welcome but you don't need to thank me for that. I wasn't about to let Steve die on us. I probably should have made the executive decision to bring him to the hospital sooner."

"I'm going to get you out of here as soon as I can, Buck," Steve promised when he finally found his voice again. He still couldn't quite meet Bucky's eyes though.

"We're also going to need to see when you're ready to leave here, Rogers," Natasha pointed out. "The doctors aren't finished running their tests yet. They may want to keep you under supervision for a few days."

Steve scowled at that, though he didn't argue. He'd realized already that his body wasn't even close to being back at 100% and he'd had yet to entertain the notion that there could have been lasting, permanent damage.

"I've got a blood sample to Stark," she said, more for Bucky's benefit than Steve's. "I'll let you know when he gets back to me but he was pretty confident his antidote would work." She didn't bother to mention that Tony had been unable to guarantee that there was not going to be additional damage caused as a result of the drugs Steve had been injected with.

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

Bucky spent the intervening time torn between believing Natasha and being convinced that she was about to take him into protective custody. It honestly could go either way; she was damned good at lying, and while he wanted to think that she wouldn’t lie about something this big, he’d watched Steve flatline. While it was possible to come back from that, it also wasn’t very likely 

When she returned and he didn’t immediately see Steve, he felt a strange sense of peace. She’d been lying, and she was going to hand him over to either the authorities or SHIELD. Probably SHIELD, because Natasha disliked the authorities as much as he did. They would take him, and they would sedate him heavily, and they would do their best to walk him through his grief until they decided he was no longer a danger to himself or others.

Of course, immediately after that, he would go looking for a gun, but they didn’t need to know that.

Bucky had quietly resigned himself to months or years in protective custody when the door opened and he realized that the reason he hadn’t seen Steve immediately was because he was in a wheelchair. Immediately, relief washed over him, along with the fear that Steve might never fully recover from his ordeal. His body was strong, but how much damage had the drugs done to him before they could eradicate them?

"I’m glad you’re not dead," he said to Steve, and to Natasha, he said "You told me he was doing better than I am. I could walk out of here once the sedatives wear off.”

There was a short, awkward silence, and Bucky looked down at his hands, unable to meet Steve’s gaze.

"I, uh, fucked up again, didn’t I?" he said quietly.

He ran his metal hand through his hair because he didn’t want to risk pulling out the IV and shook his head slowly.

"I didn’t give them enough time," he said. "I saw the machine flatline, and I saw you lying there, and I just couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry. I should have waited longer."

Even with the sedatives, panic rose in his chest as he thought back to the scene in the ER: Steve, motionless and rapidly turning blue, doctors in a flurry of activity around him that only further emphasized how grotesquely still Steve was, the machine announcing in its high-pitched drone that Steve’s heart had stopped. He closed his eyes, trying to banish it, but there was suddenly a rush of static in his head that obliterated all thought for a precious few moments.

Yasha opened his eyes and felt at the bandages on his throat.

"What the fuck did he do to himself this time?" he said with a sigh, then paused "Ah. Yes."

He blinked and looked up at Steve.

"The memories took a moment," he explained, "even though I was near the surface for most of them."

He stretched his legs out on the bed and tried to arrange his features into a sympathetic expression, which was somewhat more difficult than it would normally be, thanks to the sedatives.

"I know you wanted to talk to your friend," he said gently, "But I think the sedatives make it harder for him to stay in control. He panicked, and here I am. Just give it a minute. Once our body calms down, he’ll probably fight his way back into control."

He absently felt the bandages again.

"I am sorry I could not keep your friend from hurting himself again," Yasha said. "I tried, but he was too calm. I was unable to gain enough of a foothold to take over."

He offered what passed for a smile and reached out toward Steve, even though he was plainly too far away to touch.

"I think I am happy that he did not manage to kill us," he said. "It’s not how I would have wanted things to end."

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"I am curious about how a goddess would even know about me," he acknowledged. "I would have thought you had better things to do than keep up with earth's heroes." It felt a bit awkward to refer to himself as such, not proper or humble, but he hadn't come up with another method of getting the meaning across.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you won't be going for my soul," he said with the trace of a grin. "I'm rather attached to that." He neglected to question whether, in those dark ages, she'd ever had someone sign a contract for their soul.

"What brings a goddess to wander the earth?" he inquired after a moment. He hoped that fell under appropriate questions to ask, as he was curious. Thor, for instance, only came down from Asgard when that was necessary. He wondered what would make another god or goddess choose to spend their time among mortals.

"I’ve always been a big reader," came his response to her surprised response, and he had been. He’d learned the basics of Greek mythology from The Odyssey and The Iliad as a kid and then done a much more extensive search of the gods and goddesses after meeting a living, breathing Norse god. He figured it paid to be familiar with the names, especially the rarer ones, on the off-chance he encountered more mythological figures in the future, as it appeared he had today.

With her identity confirmed, he wasn’t quite certain how to answer her question. She intrigued him - after all, this was the first goddess he’d had the opportunity to meet - but he wasn’t certain of the reciprocal nature of asking for anything from a god or goddess, even something as simple as conversation. He might have been getting his mythological facts tied together with religious doctrine about angels and demons but somehow he felt that when interacting with a god or goddess, one needed to make certain they didn’t enter into any deals or ask for anything they might later regret.

"I don’t know," he said after a moment. "To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how one talks to a goddess. I would not want to offer any disrespect."

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"And I'm sure he'll be able to walk out of here soon enough," Natasha said smoothly. She hadn't determined yet whether mentioning that Steve was sedated as well would be beneficial; on the one hand, he might not worry as much about Steve's condition but on the other hand his guilt might increase.

Steve didn't speak until he was certain that wouldn't push him over the edge into tears. "You don't have to apologize," he said quietly.

This wasn't Bucky's fault, after all, this was Steve's fault. He'd been careless and allowed the first attack to happen and then run into harms way and made everything worse. The fact that he'd broken Bucky again was on him.

When he noted the shift in body language and the slight change in intonation of voice, Steve's precious control of himself broke. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that he didn't even know how to respond to Yasha or because with Yasha he didn't have to take the same level of care he did with Bucky. His shoulders slumped and his body posture went from strong to defeated.

"Why are you both apologizing to me?" he asked. "This is my fault. I did this. I let this happen. I should've taken better care of myself and I should never have walked straight into danger. If I'd just stayed at the safe house, maybe this wouldn't have happened. That second dosage must have pushed me over the edge."

When Yasha reached out to him, he knew what he should have done. He should have stayed where he was, at a safe distance. He shouldn't have rolled the wheelchair closer until he could reach out and grasp Yasha's hand. After all, Yasha had just told him that Bucky would be back soon and the last thing he needed was for Bucky to come back and find Steve touching him.

Still, none of that stopped him from grasping Yasha's hand tightly and softly saying, "I'm glad you're both still alive and... and I'm glad to see you again." He felt guilty as he added, "He's going to need you, you know, when he's hospitalized."

He didn't like the thought of Bucky being kept on a locked ward, constantly under scrutiny and surveillance, but as Natasha had said to him, there wasn't a choice in the matter. The only thing Steve could do was fight to get Bucky out as soon as possible.

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——

"I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt," said Bucky. "If Steve is alive, the last thing I want to do is hurt him more than I already have."

He paused.

"And if Steve is alive, I have no doubt that he’d get me out of here safely. Captain-goddamned-America is not someone to argue with, after all,” Bucky said, trying to ignore the soreness of his throat and the way his voice rasped when he spoke more than a word at a time. “And I haven’t killed anyone since they released me into his custody last time—”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, I mean I haven’t killed anyone since then,” he amended, “and the men…he killed were obviously not innocents. I’m pretty clearly no longer a danger to the public, and that would be the first thing Steve would point out.”

Bucky looked down at his hands.

"I’m obviously a mess," he admitted, "but if there’s a chance Steve is alive and you really are going to bring him in here, I won’t try to leave. Or do anything else that would cause that mean-looking sonovagun over there to stick me with that syringe."

He looked over at the IV stand and back at Natasha.

"I fucking hate sedatives," he said, fully aware that his attempts at humor were likely barely masking hysteria.

He cleared his throat.

"Actually," he said, "I could probably use some more of them."

He hit the buzzer for the nurse and requested that they up his dose, because his body was fighting the current dose off to quickly. She obliged and gave him a higher concentration of sedatives, and that calmed him right the hell down again. He thanked her and looked back at Natasha when the nurse exited the room.

"Okay," he said. "Now I know I won’t do anything stupid. Pretty sure I couldn’t get very far with all this shit in my system anyway."

The dose the nurse had given him was probably a little strong, but as far as Bucky was concerned, that was a good thing. It meant that if Natasha was lying and she brought in a team to take him into custody, he wouldn���t be able to hurt anyone while they secured him for transport. He wasn’t in any danger of dying, either, so he didn’t feel the need to let any of the staff or Natasha know that he’d been given too much.

"You can go. I promise I’ll still be here when you get back," he told her calmly, and as an afterthought, added "And alive."

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"I've always been a big reader," came his response to her surprised response, and he had been. He'd learned the basics of Greek mythology from The Odyssey and The Iliad as a kid and then done a much more extensive search of the gods and goddesses after meeting a living, breathing Norse god. He figured it paid to be familiar with the names, especially the rarer ones, on the off-chance he encountered more mythological figures in the future, as it appeared he had today.

With her identity confirmed, he wasn't quite certain how to answer her question. She intrigued him - after all, this was the first goddess he'd had the opportunity to meet - but he wasn't certain of the reciprocal nature of asking for anything from a god or goddess, even something as simple as conversation. He might have been getting his mythological facts tied together with religious doctrine about angels and demons but somehow he felt that when interacting with a god or goddess, one needed to make certain they didn't enter into any deals or ask for anything they might later regret.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how one talks to a goddess. I would not want to offer any disrespect."

"A pleasure to meet you as well," came his response.

He should not have been surprised that she automatically recognized his name, as that had become increasingly common in his daily interactions with people. The fact that it did surprise him must have been related from that odd sense he had about her, that there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

"Eris," he repeated, noting that she had offered no last name. "That’s an unusual name." One that he knew he’d heard before. "From Greek mythology, am I right?"

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

Natasha kept her eyes on Bucky the entire time, noting every shift in his body language and weighing the pros and cons of leaving him alone for a few minutes. He seemed sedated enough to not cause any problems and she hoped that his hope, however small it was, that Steve was still alive would prevent him from doing anything stupid in the 15 minutes she'd be gone.

"I'm going to hold you to that," was her response. "I'll be right back."

She spent the walk to Steve's room deciding how she would inform him of the situation, assuming he was even awake and functional enough to be told. A part of her hoped he wouldn't be, although she figured that Bucky would assume she was lying if she didn't bring Steve back with her, which left her caught inbetween two difficult situations.

As it were, she needn't have worried. Steve was awake when she glanced into his room, his vitals were holding steady, and all of the nurses reported he'd been calm and coherent since he woke up. She sincerely hoped she wasn't about to destroy all of that in one moment.

Given that she wasn't certain exactly how Steve would react, she discussed the news she was planning on delivering to him with the nurses, as well as the doctor, and the overall consensus was that they would administer sedatives first and if he handled the news appropriately, they would consider letting him see Bucky.

"Hey, Steve," she said. She watched as he cautiously studied her face and did her best to make her expression as much of a mask as possible. "How are you feeling?"

"What are they giving me?" he asked, as the nurse came over to inject the sedatives.

"Painkillers," she lied easily and was suitability impressed by Steve's incredulous look as he responded, "I'm pretty sure you're lying to me."

When the drugs kicked in and he registered what he'd been given, his expression darkened and he asked, "Where's Bucky?"

"That's what I'm here to talk about." Now his expression was the one that looked like a mask, closed off and guarded. "Steve, there's no easy way to say this..." and she trailed off because she could see the blind panic starting in his eyes. "No, breathe, he's alive."

"Then... what?" he asked, and the fear was evident in his voice.

"James didn't handle seeing you flatline very well," she said cautiously. "He assumed you were dead and from what I can see, decided he couldn't live without you." Given that Steve was looking progressively more like a deer caught in the headlights, she switched to a more blunt tactic. "He tried to kill himself. Sliced open his throat, to be precise."

Steve's expression utterly crumpled and she noted that his eyes filled with tears. However, she only allowed herself to focus on that through her peripheral vision, much more concerned with the rapid beating on the heart monitor. When no obvious arrhythmia started and no alarms went off, she determined she probably hadn't caused a relapse with her words and turned her full attention back to him. By that time, his eyes were dry and his expression had turned into as much of a mask as her own, with his emotions tightly locked down, except that he wasn't quite as good at hiding it. One look at his eyes and she could easily read everything he was feeling. Not surprising. He'd had a lot less practice at it than she had and he was also drugged.

The emotions were varied. Sorrow. Guilt. Horror. Rage. All appropriate responses to finding out that your best friend tried to kill himself after you almost died.

"I want to see him," he started and she said, "I know. I figured. He wants to see you too. Didn't exactly believe me when I told him you were alive."

He immediately started attempting to pull off electrodes and disconnect himself from the machines surrounding him and she quickly reached for his hand to stop him. "Easy. They're going to let you see him but let them unhook you. The last thing I need is for you to trigger a code blue and send the hospital into a panic."

Steve sat quietly while one of the nurses detached him from the machines and helped him into a wheelchair. The fact that he didn't argue concerned her the slightest bit, even after his near death experience in the Potomac, he'd insisted on walking around on his own shortly after regaining consciousness. Of course, the fact that he didn't argue also made it easier on her since she didn't have to force him into the wheelchair since between the fact that he'd technically died a few hours ago and the drugs in his system, she wasn't letting him walk anywhere.

As she wheeled him to Bucky's room, he quietly asked, "How bad is it?" and she told him the truth, "Pretty bad. He's bandaged up but looks pretty rough." Then, because he might as well know, she added, "They're sending him to the psych ward for at least the next 72 hours for a suicide watch." When Steve started protesting, she cut him off. "There's nothing you can do until then. They don't have a choice, they need to hospitalize him after what he did to himself."

She stopped the wheelchair in front of the door to the Bucky's room, grateful that it appeared Bucky had been telling the truth since the door was closed, she could see the guard still posted inside, and she could see Bucky in there as well. For a moment she rested a hand on Steve's shoulder to offer him what comfort she could.

She had no doubt that Steve could hold it together as long as they were in the room - that was the good thing about soldiers, they knew how to contain their emotions when in a state of crisis - but she was also pretty sure she was going to have to spend hours picking up the pieces after they got Steve back to his room. For as a strong as he was, the events of the last few days would have been enough to break anyone.

"It's going to be okay," she said gently. "I mean it, Steve. It's not right now but it will be."

With that, she wheeled him inside the room. His eyes went straight to Bucky, his jaw tightening when he saw the paleness of Bucky's skin from the blood loss, and he swallowed hard when he caught side of the bandages around Bucky's throat. Despite the fact that he wanted to collapse into himself, he kept his shoulders straightened and his head high.

He was proud that his voice only shook the slightest bit as he said, "Hey, Buck. It's good to see you again."

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——-

Bucky sighed.

"If he’s alive, which is a pretty damn big if,” he said.

He was still mostly convinced she was lying to him. Anything to keep him stable until she could get him into SHIELD custody again. If they even had the resources to take him in again. Maybe Tony would kick some money towards his room and board, though. He was kind of an asshole, but he’d watched Bucky struggle in therapy the first time. He might take pity on him now, after the whole clusterfuck that was the past few days.

Idly, Bucky wondered when he would be able to to get his stitches out. Maybe in a few days, given how quickly his body healed thanks to the bastardized serum. Longer than the stitches in his arm had taken to come out, but probably not terribly long.

Bucky noted that he should be feeling more upset, but all he could muster was a vague sense of irritation at the fact that he hadn’t managed to die this time, either. Which may have been partially the fault of the sedatives he knew they were administering to him through his IV, but it was probably mostly shock.

"They won’t hold me more than 72 hours," he stated as though it were just plain fact. "I’m calm, I’m rational, and if Steve is alive, I’ll be too afraid of hurting him to try anything stupid."

Of course, if Steve wasn’t alive, that would be a different story, but he was confident that he could still act normal enough to be released from the hospital after a few days. Bucky struggled into a sitting position and looked at the guard next to the door.

"You won’t have to use that on me, big boy," he rasped with what passed for a smirk. "I’m not gonna cause any trouble, don’t you worry."

He wondered whether the change in tone would amuse or worry Natasha, but at the moment, he didn’t really care. Humor was far better than falling back into the numb grief that had brought him here. He sat cross-legged on the bed and looked back at Natasha.

"So how are we gonna keep them from handing me over to the authorities this time?" he asked.

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

"I get it, James. To be honest, I'd be skeptical too if I were in your shoes. But I wouldn't lie about something as serious as this. I'm not going to trick you into thinking that he's alive just so you can go through the pain of losing him again, especially when it's clear you're nowhere near stable."

She tensed the slightest bit when he sat up and tried to gauge the change in tone. Given the situation, it struck her as wrong and she couldn't tell whether the attempt at humor was a good sign or whether she should be all the more concerned.

"I don't know," she said honestly in response to his last question. "Obviously it's going to be much harder but I can guarantee Steve's going to fight that every inch of the way if that's what it comes down to."

She studied him for a moment before asking, "Since you're not believing me that Steve's alive, if I go to check on him and see if he's up for coming to see you, will you promise me that you won't do anything stupid while I'm gone? The last thing I need is to bring him to your empty room. I don't think that's going to do anything good to his physical or mental state."

She had no doubt that even in his weakened state he could probably still take down the guard and the last thing she wanted to do was chase after him for the second time in one day.

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

——

Read More

[little-guy-from-brooklyn]

She looked unsurprised by the fact that he didn't believe her. Truth be told, she wouldn't have believed herself if she were in his position.

"I figured of much but I thought you still you should know. If you insist on seeing him before they move you, I'll bring him over if he's up for it, since they're not about to let you go anywhere."

She tried not to think too much about how Steve was going to respond to the news that Bucky had tried to kill himself again. Balancing both of their needs was difficult - she didn't want to cause a relapse for Steve because his heart couldn't handle the news and seeing the aftermath of Bucky's actions but at the same time she doubted he would respond a whole lot better to finding out that he'd missed the chance to see Bucky before he was taken to the psychiatric ward - but ultimately she was fairly certain that bringing Steve to see Bucky would be in both of their best interests.

In response to his question, she said, "Technically, they can only hold you for 72 hours. Two psychiatrists will have to definitively say that you're a significant harm to yourself and require continued hospitalization in order to involuntarily commit you for any longer than that. Personally, I'm hoping that it won't come to that."

Her expression softened the slightest bit. "I don't want to see you locked up in there but I don't think there's anything I can do to stop it given the state you're in. They should allow visitors though, which isn't much, but at least Steve could come see you. I don't know if that's a comfort to you or not."

She wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of keeping an eye on a recovering Steve and a hospitalized Bucky while simultaneously monitoring the continued situation with the missing White House staff and conspicuously present vice president but there were few options at this point. Given the mess that Steve had gotten himself into over the past few days, she didn't trust him alone, and Bucky was far from being a model of stability himself.

"Anyways, you know Steve's going to do what he can and pull whatever strings he can pull to get you out of there as soon as possible."

She didn't know if her continued references to Steve were making Bucky more or less suspicious but given that she couldn't prove to him that Steve was alive quite yet, this was all she could offer to him.

If this is what you want, then fire at will...

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