Chapter Text
"Ready, Buck?" Steve asks.
Bucky is sitting on the closed toilet lid, shoulders trembling and muscles twitching. His head keeps falling forward, then jerking back up again. He is exhausted. Steve can see how badly he wants to let go and slip into unconsciousness.
He had asked him again when they arrived if he was still sure he wanted to shower first, because he barely looked awake at all, but Bucky insisted. He even got anxious that he would blank out and they would take him straight into surgery without doing this first, so he has been fighting to keep his eyes open ever since.
Rebecca told Steve he couldn't let him have a bath, he would have to use something to pour the water over his body. The water shouldn't be too hot, and he shouldn't scrub him. A loofah can only be used where necessary, and carefully. And he had to keep him talking to him to make sure he stays conscious.
All of these were things Steve knows Bucky would normally want the opposite of, but he heard every instruction and didn't object.
Once they reached his old room at the Tower, Steve quickly changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt while Sam got Bucky some water and stayed with him until Steve came back into the bathroom.
"I'll be outside if you need anything," Sam tells him before stepping outside.
Bucky clears his throat once Sam is out. "Steve," he rasps. "Can you—leave too?"
He knew this was going to happen.
He sighs and gets on his knees in front of him. "I can't, Bucky," he gently says. "You heard what Rebecca said. And you're barely even conscious."
He struggles to keep his half-opened eyes open, as if he wants to prove to Steve that he can do it. "I have my left arm. I can...can do it. I'll call for you...if I need anything."
"We're wasting time. I won't let you—"
"Please," Bucky pleads, and his voice almost breaks. "Just get out. I'll do it."
"Bucky, listen to me," he says, his voice firm, but still gentle. Bucky slowly raises his eyes toward him. "You did your part. You did everything you could possibly do. Now it's time for us to do our part, alright? Let us take care of you. You know you're fighting every nerve in your body to stay conscious, and every part of your body is trembling. It would take you forever to get it done, and we need to get you into surgery. So please, just let me do it." He lets out a heavy breath. "And I'm your best friend, Buck. If I don't do this, then who will?"
It takes Bucky a couple of seconds to finally nod. "Fine," he says, but he still doesn't look comfortable or happy about it.
"Come on." He stands, taking the blanket off him carefully. Bucky rests his left arm on Steve's arm, pushing himself up. A pained breath escapes him almost at every move, but Steve keeps him steady, letting his arm stay around him as he lets him get into the bath.
Everything had already been prepared in the room and the bathroom before they arrived. Clean towels were folded neatly on the counter, new toothbrushes still sealed in their packages, slippers placed by the door, fancy shower products lined up by the bathtub, along with two loofahs. And on the edge of the tub, exactly where Steve would need it, was the plastic jug—the most important item of all. Tony had made sure nothing was missing.
Tony had also told him that once Bucky no longer needed to remain under observation in the Tower's medical wing, he could have a room of his own on one of the residential floors, or move in with Anna in the suite she was currently staying in. Steve currently has no idea which option he would prefer. What he does know, without a doubt, is that Bucky will want to return to his apartment as soon as he possibly can.
He notices Bucky shivering more now, his lips quivering.
"The water will warm you," he says. "Where do you want me to start?"
Bucky swallows. "My...my face," he says. "And hair. But I'll...I'll do my face."
He’s not going to cry.
"Okay," he says, keeping his voice even, not too soft—not pitying, even though his chest feels like it's caving in. "You do it with the soap, or uh—there's shower gel, that would be easier...I guess. I'll handle the water."
He takes one of the loofahs and places it nearby in case he needs it, then fills the plastic jug with warm water from the faucet and pours some of it over Bucky's feet first. Bucky exhales at the heat and shifts slightly, spreading his legs so more of the warmth reaches him.
He pumps a small amount of shower gel into Bucky's left palm, and Bucky slowly works it over his face, dragging it down along his jaw and the side of his neck.
When Bucky lowers his hand, Steve tips the jug, letting the water run gently over his face. He holds the jug steady with one hand, while his other hand moves over Bucky's skin, making sure there isn't any soap left.
"Again?" he asks Bucky.
Bucky nods, so they repeat it once more, quicker this time. When they are done, Bucky's shoulders drop and his body relaxes more. Steve doesn't know if he is relieved of finally getting to wash his face after so long, or if he is just too exhausted to keep holding himself so tight, but either way, he feels better knowing he is more relaxed now.
"There are toothbrushes. Do you want to brush your teeth?"
That makes Bucky blink. "Yes."
Steve goes to the sink, squeezes toothpaste on one of the new toothbrushes, then returns with it, the bottle of water Bucky had been drinking from earlier, and an empty glass.
"There you go," he says, placing the toothbrush into Bucky's left hand.
Bucky starts brushing, moving slowly over every section of his teeth. When Steve feels like he is almost done, he unscrews the bottle and holds it up for Bucky. "Take a sip."
Bucky drinks directly from it, swishes the water around his mouth, then leans forward slightly and spits into the glass Steve is holding for him.
After they are done with that, Steve starts to worry that Bucky might slip into unconsciousness. His eyes don't open again, and his breathing turns slow, as if he is about to drift away.
He remembers Rebecca's instructions and starts to talk to him. "Nat said the only ones still missing are Pierce and John," he says, reaching for the shampoo and gently working it into his hair. He notices that it has gotten a little longer than usual. "I know Pierce doesn't come to the base much...but what about John? Was he there often?"
Bucky opens his eyes just a fraction. "John—" he murmurs. "He was there...before you... came. How?"
His fingers move slowly as he makes sure he gets every part of Bucky's scalp. "I don't know," he replies. "When we got there, Luke said he'd left about an hour earlier."
"So..." Bucky breathes. "He left... right after..."
"Close your eyes," Steve says. He waits until Bucky does before pouring the warm water over his head. "Right after what?"
"N-nothing, it...it doesn't...." Bucky trails off, his voice fading.
"Bucky, hey." Steve leans closer. "Stay with me. You have to stay awake."
Bucky blinks repeatedly, trying to keep his eyes open.
He shampoos his hair a second time, knowing that's what Bucky wants. "So what did John do?" he asks. "Before we came."
"Doesn't... doesn't matter now."
"It does," Steve says, rinsing his hair. "Because they're going to pay for it. Every single thing they did matters."
Bucky doesn't answer, but there's a faint movement beneath his closed eyelids. Steve sets the jug aside and watches him for a moment, his heart clenching.
The first time Steve met Anna, he had told her that he and Bucky used to be opposites in everything, and she had asked him if that was still true now. The question had caught him off guard more than it should have. It had even seemed to catch Bucky off guard too.
There had been too many reasons why the answer wasn't simple anymore. When Bucky first came back, he barely left the apartment and barely even spoke to him. Steve had watched him move through the days like a ghost, and that made him carry a constant worry that never really loosened its grip on him. Even when Bucky started going out more, started talking more, started trying, Steve still carried that same worry and fear, because even when Bucky was getting better, he was never fully okay.
Everything had shifted without them noticing. Steve was the one suggesting new places, new routines, new distractions. He was the one always checking in, the one trying to take care of him—at least as much as Bucky would allow, which was almost nothing.
That change had always hurt more than he liked to admit. He looks at Bucky now and wishes none of it had happened. Wishes he had never taken the serum and wishes Bucky had never gone to war.
He doesn't get sick anymore. He doesn't need Bucky to stand up for him or throw a punch because someone said the wrong thing. It's Bucky who needs him now. And sometimes Steve thinks he would give up every ounce of strength he has just to undo that, to go back to being the one who needed protecting instead.
And now, more than ever, he wishes they had stayed opposites in the way they used to be.
He blinks and inhales deeply, bracing himself for what comes next.
After refilling the jug with warm water, he says, "If it hurts, tell me, okay? I'll try not to—"
"It's fine," Bucky mutters. "Just... do it."
"Alright," he says. "I won't use shower gel. Your—your upper body is..."
Is so damaged, he wants to say, and he is so fucking sorry.
"Okay," Bucky whispers.
Steve starts washing his chest, and it doesn't escape him how hard Bucky is trying not to react. It's subtle, barely unnoticeable, but Steve sees it in the shallow hitch of his breathing and in the way his eyes stay tightly shut.
The lashes across his chest overlap in layers, some of them splitting open again where the same place had been struck repeatedly. Most of the skin is bruised, inflamed, and swollen. Every drop of water that runs over them seems to make Bucky's fingers twitch against the tub.
He moves carefully around the gunshot wound, keeping one hand over it most of the time, covering it from the water. The skin around it is also inflamed, mottled purple and yellow beneath the torn flesh. He tries to take a closer look to see if it looks infected, but it's almost impossible to tell with all the surrounding damage.
Bucky's breathing grows uneven for a moment, so Steve immediately slows down, making his movements more gentle.
"I'm sorry. I know it hurts," he says. "I'll slow down."
"No," Bucky breathes, the sound comes as though his teeth are clenched. "It's fine."
"Tell me about those men we took," he says, trying to distract him from the pain. "Who's the worst of them? I don't remember Darren from S.H.I.E.L.D."
"He wasn't," Bucky replies. "His work was different...I guess."
He moves to the faucet to fill the jug again. "Who's the worst?"
"Uh...I—I don't know," Bucky weakly says. "Pierce called the shots." He pauses, his breath breaking. "Everything was...his plan. And he...he's the one who ordered them to...do it. Every time."
Every time.
How many times did they do it?
Steve swallows. "The...three phases punishment?"
"Yeah."
He moves to Bucky's legs—the part of him that's trembling the most. The moment his hands touch them, Bucky tenses. Steve knows he has to use the shower gel here. He doesn't wait for Bucky to ask.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I''m sorry. The words echo in his head, useless and desperate, begging to be said. But instead, Steve asks. "The twitching...is that from what they used to shock you? The same thing that caused these burns?"
"Think so," Bucky murmurs.
"What did they use?"
"A new kind of...stun baton," he replies, swallowing. "Its voltage was...too high—higher than usual. It wasn't...normal."
The shaking starts getting worse, and Steve knows Bucky is in terrible pain. His left hand is curled into a tight fist and his muscles are tense, but he knows Bucky wants this done properly, even if it hurts, so he keeps going.
He clears his throat. "Who's worse after Pierce, Brock or Darren?"
It takes Bucky a while to reply to that, but Steve knows he is awake. "Darren."
The answer surprises him and also doesn't, in a way, especially after meeting the man today.
Steve gently pushes Bucky's legs a little farther apart, and that's when his breath catches in his throat. His legs are bloodied from the lashes, but the dried blood between his thighs...that looks like it came from somewhere else. Some of it is darker and older, and some of it is lighter and newer.
Before Bucky can sense the pause, the hesitation, and the way his hand has started to shake, he brings the water down quickly over the dried blood, telling himself it must be from the lashes.
I'm sorry for everything, he wants to cry out, I'm sorry I left you there while this was happening.
After getting some of the dried blood removed, he sets the jug aside and reaches for the loofah. He moves gently and slowly, barely brushing the skin, mindful of how much pain Buck is already in. And all through it, he doesn't look too closely. He barely looks at all, out of fear of letting his mind go far.
Because knowing it happened is one thing. That truth alone is unbearable enough and hasn't even settled in yet. But the details are something else, and he knows nothing about them. He doesn't know how bad or violent it actually was, how long it lasted each time, how many of them were involved, or how far they went before they decided to stop.
He bites his mouth so hard he tastes blood, but still forces himself to say anything other than empty apologies. "What...what do you plan to do to them?" he asks, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
Bucky slightly opens his eyes then. He must have felt the shakiness in Steve's voice. After a moment, he speaks. "Steve," he hoarsely says. "I'm sorry."
Steve pauses. "What could you possibly be sorry for, Bucky?"
"I never...never told you anything," he murmurs, breathing heavily because of the effort to speak. "But I—I didn't know it would...happen again. That they'd..." He doesn't finish whatever he wants to say, he looks too exhausted to.
The truth settles in Steve's chest with sick, heavy certainty.
The blood isn't from the lashes.
His throat burns from all the effort he is putting in trying not to cry, but he swallows. Once, and then again. "Buck," he softly says.
"Don't...don't say anything," Bucky says, resting his head back and closing his eyes. "I just...wanted you to know...I'm sorry."
"We'll talk about all of that later," Steve tells him, trying once again to steady his voice as he continues washing him. "Now tell me, what do you want to do to them?"
After a few seconds, Bucky says, "I want them to feel—" He swallows, wincing in pain. "What I felt. Rumlow has to pay...for Anna. And Pierce...obviously."
"The others?" he asks, rinsing the soap away.
"Mostly...for what they did..." Bucky says after a moment. "To me."
Steve knows he will see to it that they suffer too. Right now, he doesn't care about the lines he shouldn't cross, principles, or even about the man he is supposed to be. All of it feels insignificant compared to what has been done to Bucky.
"They'll pay," Steve says, repeating the process of washing Bucky's legs. "We'll make sure of it."
"I just don't...don't know..." he trails off, his head dipping.
"You don't know what?" he asks, but Bucky doesn't open his eyes. "Bucky," he says a little louder this time.
Bucky's eyelids flutter. "Yeah."
Steve pauses, because he will have to turn him onto his side next. "What don't you know?" he asks, hoping Bucky still remembers what he wanted to say.
"If—if it'll be..." His voice breaks into a cough, his left hand coming up to his chest as he winces. "Enough."
"Hey, Steve," Sam's voice comes from behind the door. "Rebecca's asking you to finish quickly. It's been ten minutes."
"Okay," Steve says. "I need to move you to your side now, buddy."
Bucky nods. "I'll...move."
He rests his left arm on the edge of the bath and moves himself. Steve can hear the low, muffled grunts of pain that Bucky's trying so hard not to let escape his mouth.
The sight of his back is horrible. Steve can see the faint red scars, which are probably from the last time they tortured him. They haven't healed completely, and he knows that with what they have done to his back again, it will definitely scar. There are already some faint, light brown scars in some places, but he can hardly see them from all the old and new lashes.
He clears his throat. "I won't use shower gel on your back..." he says, his throat almost catching on those lost words. "I'll use it...below. Don't worry."
He starts pouring the water very slowly over his back. "You're awake, right?"
"Uh-huh." Then, Bucky says, "Did you check...on Nat?"
"Yeah," Steve replies, wincing at how Bucky seems to be in pain. "Everything's under control, don't worry."
"She...she needs to take care, Fury too, and you..."
"I know, Bucky," he says. "Don't worry. Everyone will watch their backs."
"I don't want..." He lets out a pained exhale. "Anyone to get...hurt, or killed...again because of me."
Steve stops moving, his chest constricting. "What happened to Anna and Luke wasn't your fault, pal."
Bucky doesn't reply to that.
He continues washing his feet, using the loofah, but he moves more quickly now, knowing that Bucky seems to be slipping away. When he's done, he pauses, taking a quick look over Bucky's body, to make sure he hasn't missed anything.
"I'm done, Buck. Is there anything else you want me to do?"
Only a faint exhale answers him.
He stands, placing his arm on Bucky's left arm. "Alright, come on. Let's get you up."
Bucky tries to open his eyes, but he fails. He is only half there. Steve steadies him as Bucky weakly lifts his left arm and places it around Steve's neck. He tightens his hold when Bucky's head drops forward, his body suddenly heavier, most of his strength gone.
He grabs the towel and pats him dry as gently and quickly as he can. Bucky barely reacts. He can only feel the tremors running through him, small shudders that don't stop.
"Okay," Steve murmurs. "We're done. You're good."
He wraps the towel around Bucky's torso, and that's when Bucky finally stops trying. His forehead comes to rest against Steve's shoulder, his weight sagging fully into him.
"It's okay," Steve whispers. "You can let go. I've got you. We're getting you to surgery now."
And then Bucky does let go. His body goes slack against Steve’s.
"Sam?" Steve loudly calls out.
The bathroom door opens almost immediately. Sam steps in, hospital gown already in his hands. "Done?"
"Yeah."
Sam gets inside. He moves the towel away just enough to slip the gown over Bucky. Steve keeps him upright the entire time, supporting nearly all of his weight.
"Buck?" Sam asks.
A soft, broken whimper is the only response.
Sam's jaw tightens. "We need to move."
"Yeah," Steve breathes.
"There's a wheelchair outside."
Sam disappears and returns seconds later. They slowly get Bucky into the wheelchair, and his head falls to the side, eyes closed now, barely conscious.
The elevator ride feels longer than it actually is. When the doors finally open onto the Tower's medical wing, Rebecca is already there, waiting in surgical scrubs, Tony beside her.
Tony steps forward first. He takes a quick look at Bucky and swears under his breath. "Shit." His eyes flick up to Steve. "He's out?"
"Mostly," Steve replies.
Rebecca moves and takes the handles of the wheelchair from him. "We've got him." When she sees the worry in his face, she adds, more softly, “He's in safe hands.”
Steve nods, his throat too tight to answer.
When they are out of sight, Steve turns to Tony. “Is Anna awake?"
"She's coming around," Tony replies. "There's a nurse with her, I should probably—"
"I want to see her. Her room is that way?"
Tony hesitates. "Yeah... but why now?"
He starts walking anyway. Sam and Tony follow immediately.
"I'll just speak to her quickly," he says. "There are things I need to understand."
"Steve," Sam says, a warning in his voice.
"What things?" Tony asks.
A nurse steps out of a nearby room. Steve slows down. "She's here?"
"Hey, hold on." Tony moves in front of him, blocking his path. "What's going on?"
"There are things she didn't tell us," Steve says. "And I need to—"
"You can't blame her for that," Sam cuts him off. His voice isn't sharp, just exhausted and heavy.
"I told her to tell us everything when she came back," Steve says, his voice tense. "She knew what they did, Sam. That's why she reacted the way she did when she realized we knew about the three phases punishment."
"I figured that out too," Sam calmly says. "But maybe she had a reason for not saying anything. Did you stop and think about that for a second?"
"Okay, is anyone going to explain what the hell you're talking about?" Tony asks.
"Tony, just step aside," Steve says. "Let me talk to her."
"Not happening," Tony replies immediately. "What did you figure out?"
"I need to speak to her first."
"What did you find out?" Tony presses
Steve's restraint snaps. "I found out that Bucky was being raped there and she never said a damn thing!"
"Steve..." Sam murmurs, grief heavy in his voice.
"Lower your voice," Tony says sharply. "She just woke up."
Steve tries to move past him, but Tony doesn't let him.
"I'm talking to her whether you like it or not."
Before Steve can take another step, Tony's fist connects with his face.
Steve freezes, shock and anger flashing across his expression.
"That felt good," Tony says, flexing his hand. Then his face shifts, the expression on his face changing to something heavier and sadder. "They raped him in front of her."
"What?" Steve breathes, horror breaking through the anger.
"How do you know that?" Sam asks.
Tony sighs. "She had a breakdown the other day. She talked to Luke because she wanted to know what they’d do to Barnes. He told her about that three phases thing. Said they’d do it every day. Then she broke down...sort of went into shock and started talking. That's when she told me what's been happening. And she wanted to tell you, by the way. She wanted you to storm the base immediately, but I stopped her, because if that happened, you were either going to attack the base blindly and get yourselves killed, or tear yourselves apart while waiting."
Steve's knees give out and he drops to the floor. "Every day?" he whispers. "They did it... every day while he was shot?"
"I'm sorry," Tony says, resting his back on the wall. "They did it once while she was there. And there was also another time after that. She knew it was all happening because of her, that he wasn't fighting because of her, that they were using her against him, and she carried all of that alone. It's no wonder why she kept begging me to remove the damn device from her before."
Sam sinks down beside him. "Jesus Christ," he mutters.
He rests his head back on the wall. "That's why Bucky was so horrified when he knew that she heard what Rumlow told me. He said that she's thinking of killing herself. And he was....he was so sure of it."
"I'm pretty sure she's been fighting that thought every day for two months. It's a miracle she held on," Tony says. "And she respected what Barnes would’ve wanted and did it. Do you really think it would've been easy for her to tell you both that they did that to him in front of her? She did the right thing. You know damn well it wouldn't have changed anything if you'd known sooner. You probably would've destroyed yourselves trying to do anything about it."
Steve takes a deep breath, blinking back the tears in his eyes. "They...they tore him apart," he hoarsely says. "There was fucking blood there and he—" His voice breaks. He swallows hard, forcing himself to breathe again.
"It's a good thing he asked for those men," Sam says. "That might be the only thing that could keep him going for now."
They stay in silence for a little while. Tony doesn't say anything, he gives them time to absorb everything he said.
Then Steve finally says, "I want to see her." Before Tony can start arguing, he adds, "I'm not going to blame her for anything. I swear. I just want to make sure she's okay."
Tony studies him for a moment, then sighs. "Okay. Let's go."
Anna is lying on her side when they come inside. She looks sleepy and tired, but not groggy.
"What...what's going on? I heard shouting," she weakly says. "FRIDAY told me Bucky got into surgery."
Steve nods. "Yeah," he replies. He approaches the bed. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," she replies. "That thing is finally not inside me anymore, so I'm fine. Can you tell me what happened? How was Bucky when you found him?"
He swallows. "I'm so sorry, Anna," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. "I—I know what they did."
A wave of shock passes over her face as her eyes fill with tears. Her gaze moves from him to Tony and Sam. "What do you know?"
"I'm sorry they made you watch. I...I'm sorry for everything that happened to you, and to him." He raises his hand to her arm, caressing it lightly.
There are tears falling down her face now. "How—how did you know?"
"Darren. He told us—told us while Bucky was there. I'll tell you everything when you're better."
He still has to tell her about Luke, and he doesn't want to overwhelm her at the moment.
"They did it everyday," she says, breaking into a loud sob. "Everyday. I knew and I didn't say anything. I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"
He grabs her into a hug, trying so hard not to cry himself. "It's okay. We have him now. He's with us."
"I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I didn't know you'd find out like that. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Anna," Sam says. "You did what Bucky would've wanted. You respected his wishes. We just want you both to be okay now. That's all that matters."
She pulls away from Steve, wiping the tears on her face.
"Did he ask to uh...shower first?"
"Yeah," Steve sadly replies.
"How bad is it?"
"Bad," Steve honestly replies. "But Rebecca's taking care of him now."
"Is there a way I can see him? Even from afar?"
"No, you need to rest right now," Tony says. "You can go see him once you're better and he's out of there."
She nods, then turns her gaze to Steve. "You'll tell me everything that happened?"
"Yeah," he replies. "Just give me some time, and you should rest, too. I'll come by in a few hours, alright?"
"Okay," she whispers.
He squeezes her arm gently before he gets up and walks outside with Sam. Tony remains inside.
Once they are out of there, Steve walks to the emptiest corridor he can find and sinks to the floor, his whole body shaking.
Sam sits next to him and places his hand on his back, "Steve," he says. "Let it out, man. It's okay."
And so Steve breaks down, his sobs coming out of him in choking bursts. His shoulders shake as he lets out everything he has been trying to force down since the moment he saw Bucky lying on that floor—bleeding, broken, and barely alive.
He cries for all of it. For what was done to Bucky. For what Bucky endured alone. For everything he didn't know and everything he couldn't stop.
Sam stays beside him, his hand never leaving his back. He can hear the hitch in Sam's breathing and he knows he is crying as well, but neither of them says anything.
It takes a long time before Steve can even try to pull air into his lungs without it turning into another sob. When he is finally able to talk, he asks Sam, "Do you...do you know if Nat will be back tonight? She said she might come back tonight or tomorrow."
"Yeah, I checked in with her. She's coming tonight."
Steve stands, wiping his face. "Alright. I'll change and then go to the warehouse. I'll wait for them there."
"What are you going to do?" Sam asks.
"It's gonna take Bucky a while to heal." He says, starting to walk away. "Until then, I'm not planning on letting them sit around in peace."
—————
Anna
She finally gathers the courage to go to Bucky's room.
FRIDAY told her that he came out of surgery a little while ago, and that he is staying in the room right next to hers. She is starting to wish she could have a version of FRIDAY in her everyday life that could always tell her where Bucky is and whether he is okay or not at all times.
When she sees him in front of her, she almost forgets how to breathe.
The last time she saw him, he had been kissing her goodbye. He had been hurt and tortured, about to be violated in every possible way, and all he cared about was making sure he gave her a proper goodbye.
And now he is here.
More than two months later, Bucky is out.
She walks slowly toward the bed, her hand coming up to her mouth when she gets close enough to really see him, trying to hold back her shaking breaths.
She wants to throw herself around him, hold him tightly and never let go. But she knows that even if he were awake, she still wouldn't be able to do that with the injuries in his body.
Her hands move to his neck, tracing the skin gently. She feels a circular mark there, which she knows must be from the burn left by the collar. But above it, by the side, is another wound that almost looks like a burn as well, but this one is new and fresh, and the sight of it makes her shudder. Her eyes drift lower and she sees the bandages covering his chest beneath the hospital gown. She has no idea what kind of injuries are beneath those bandages. When she finds that his right arm is in a cast, her heart sinks as she realizes that they have broken it once again.
There’s a nasal cannula beneath his nose. His face is faintly bruised and his features are more hollow. She reaches up, brushing her hand along his jaw and into his hair, forcing herself to breathe slowly, to ground herself in the reality of him being beneath her touch. That he is here and that this is real.
She sinks to the floor beside the bed, kneeling close. She takes his left hand in hers and presses her forehead against it.
And then she cries.
"You're here," she whispers between sobs. "You're finally here."
She repeats the words to herself, trying to believe them. She tries to believe that the nightmare is over, that Bucky is no longer with Hydra, and that there is no device inside her forcing him to comply.
It's over.
The realization hits her then, fully, for the first time, causing a loud sob to break out of her. Because there were days when it felt like this might not ever end, that their plan could fail, and that it could be a very long time before they could ever get Bucky out of there.
The pain of everything they had been through was so heavy that imagining it being over one day had felt impossible sometimes.
She turns her head to the sound of the person entering the room, wiping with her shaking hands at her face.
It's Rebecca.
"Anna," she says, her voice soft and a little shaky.
It's the first time Anna has seen her since that day at the base when Rebecca was treating Bucky's back.
She sniffs and tries to steady herself. "Hi, Rebecca."
Rebecca doesn't hesitate as she kneels beside her and pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like she has known her for years. The warmth of it makes Anna break all over again.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Rebecca tells her. She pulls back, her hand going gently over Anna's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Good," Anna replies, her voice shaky. Her eyes drift back to Bucky. "How is he?"
Rebecca's expression softens even further. "I'll tell you. But first, let's get you up." She places her arm around Anna's back. "Come on. Sit down over there."
She helps her into the chair at the back, and then sits on the one beside it. "Bucky's going to be okay," she starts. "But it's going to take time. Even with his accelerated healing, this won't be quick."
She seems to be giving Anna time to take in that information before continuing. "The gunshot wound was the biggest concern, obviously. It didn't hit any organs or large vessels, which is the only reason why we're not dealing with something life threatening. But he was left untreated for too long, and by the time we operated, the tissue around the wound was already infected. It wasn't just on the surface, it had spread deeper. I initially assumed they were giving him antibiotics to prevent that from happening, but from what I saw, they were likely only giving him fluids and doing the bare minimum to keep him alive."
"His ribs are severely fractured. There are multiple breaks on the same side, so breathing is going to be extremely painful for a while. Then there's his arm. It also needed surgery. The bone wasn't just fractured and forced out of place, we had to realign and stabilize it. So it'll be some time before he can move it again." She pauses, letting out a long breath. "The rest of his injuries are technically surface wounds, but there are lots of them. Repeated trauma over skin that never had a chance to heal. And for the first time, it isn't his back that took the worst of it. I... I don't know if you know or not, but most of his body is whipped."
Every time she thinks Rebecca must be finished, it gets even worse. "No," she whispers in horror. "I didn't know."
Rebecca looks at her with an apologetic look on her face. "His chest and abdomen took severe force trauma before or after the whipping, it's hard to determine the exact sequence. It's why his ribs are broken, but the tissue damage overlaps. Some of the lacerations were deep enough to require suturing. His thighs are heavily marked as well with multiple layered injuries. His back is the same, it actually still has old wounds underneath the new ones...from the last time they tortured him."
She sighs heavily. "They didn't leave a part of him untouched, Anna. And there are these burns, they are scattered everywhere on his body. He is covered in them. They're not like the collar burns he used to get. These are spread across his chest, stomach, arm, legs. They probably used something that also delivers electrical shocks...I can't tell what exactly. But aside from the skin damage, electrical injuries travel through muscle and nerve tissue. He'll likely have nerve pain, muscle weakness, and spasms for a while. He was already shaking badly when we found him and couldn't even stand on his own."
She looks at Anna, offering her a small, tired smile. "But he'll heal. He'll be okay. It's just going to take time."
"This..." Anna says, speechless. "This is too much. How was he even awake when you found him?"
"He...wasn't," Rebecca slowly says. "Steve found him. He was barely breathing, if Steve hadn't gotten there in time, it actually might have been too late. They didn't tell you?"
"No," she says, shocked. "Not everything. Steve said he'll tell me what happened later. I just know...I know that Steve and Sam now know about...the three phases punishment, that they've been doing it to him."
"I know, I was there," Rebecca quietly says. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"
"Yes," Anna immediately replies. "Please."
So Rebecca tells her everything. Everything she was never prepared to hear. She tells her the condition they found Bucky in, and how long it took before he was even responsive. She tells her what Darren did, what he said in front of Steve and Sam.
And then Rebecca tells her that Luke has been shot, and before Anna can ask if he is okay, she learns that he has died, and the words hit her with such force that her chest seizes.
Because Luke was the only person in that place who showed her any kindness. The one whom without, none of this would have been possible. She had wanted to see him when this was over, she wanted to thank him for what he did, for risking everything to save her and Bucky.
And then her heart shatters for Bucky, because she knows the guilt he will carry for Luke's death will be overwhelmingly heavy and painful.
After Rebecca finishes speaking, she tries to persuade her to go to her room and lie down and rest, but she can't. She cannot leave Bucky. Not after waiting for him for so long.
So she stays by his side, one hand wrapped around his left arm and the other on his face. And she cries, because her heart aches so terribly for everything that's been done to him. She cries for Steve and Sam, for the guilt and heartbreak they must be feeling. And for Luke, who showed her kindness and paid for it with his life, so that Bucky can be by her side now.
She cries until the exhaustion drags her down next to him, her hand never leaving his, terrified that if she lets go, she will wake up and find that none of it is real, that Bucky is still there, and that she is still waiting for him.