Chapter 4
The following day, after a particularly restless night, Bucky Barnes woke up to the soft glow of dawn filtering through his apartment window. He lay still for a moment, feeling the weight of exhaustion that seemed to cling to him even in sleep. As he turned his head slightly, he caught sight of Sam Wilson sitting by the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in his hand as he scrolled on his phone.
"Morning," Sam greeted softly as Bucky slowly sat up, rubbing his face tiredly.
"Morning," Bucky replied hoarsely, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. He glanced around the room, the events of the previous couple of days coming back in fragmented flashes – the flag smashers, the seizure, and the unsettling realization that something was very wrong with him.
Sam set down his coffee and moved closer, concern etched deeply in his eyes. "Buck, I called Dr. Raynor. We have an appointment later this morning."
Bucky nodded, feeling the weight of Sam's words sinking in. Dr. Raynor had assisted him in navigating the complexities of his past and present. She continued to support him despite his stubbornness, and they had finally begun addressing certain issues. However, this time felt different. He wasn't certain if even she could help.
"What did you tell her?" Bucky asked quietly, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.
"I told her we need her help. I told her… about everything," Sam replied carefully, his voice filled with determination and worry. "We need to find someone who understands what's happening to you."
Bucky swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing. He knew he couldn't avoid this conversation any longer. He needed to find out about the cause of the headaches that seemed to split his skull, about the moments of disorientation that left him gasping for breath, about the fear that clenched his heart every time he felt his body betraying him.
"I… I don't know how to explain it," Bucky began, his voice wavering slightly. "It's like… something's wrong. Like… I can't control it."
Sam reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You don't have to have all the answers right now, Buck. Just tell her what you're feeling. She'll help us figure it out."
Bucky nodded slowly, the weight on his chest easing just a fraction. He knew Sam was right. Dr. Raynor had always been helpful, a steady presence in the craziness of his mind. But this time, the stakes felt higher, the unknown looming larger.
---------------------------
As they made their way to Dr. Raynor's office later that morning, Bucky felt a mix of fear and relief. He was afraid of what they might find out but was relieved that he didn't have to face it alone. Sam was there beside him, steady as always.
Dr. Raynor greeted them with her usual seriousness. She listened intently as Bucky recounted his symptoms, his anxiety evident in the small office.
After a long moment of silence, Dr. Raynor spoke, her voice steady and reassuring. "James, what you're describing… it's concerning. It could be many things, but we need to rule out the possibilities."
Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowed with worry. "Is it… related to the super soldier serum?"
Dr. Raynor nodded slowly. "It's possible. We'll need to consult with specialists who understand the serum's effects and neurological conditions. But first, I want to try something."
Dr. Raynor cleared her throat, breaking Bucky’s train of bad memories. “Now, I haven't performed a neurological exam since medical school, but let’s see how you do with some basic neurological tests. These will help me assess your cognitive and motor functions," Dr. Raynor explained, her voice calm and steady. "They might help us understand what's causing your symptoms."
Bucky nodded, steeling himself as he sat on the couch, Sam sitting by his side like a silent sentinel.
Dr. Raynor began with the physical examination, first testing Bucky's reflexes. She tapped his knees and elbow with a small rubber hammer, expecting quick and automatic responses. However, Bucky's reactions were slower than typical. His leg twitched with a delayed reflex, and his arm took longer than usual to react.
Next, Dr. Raynor moved on to assess Bucky's coordination. She asked him to touch his index finger to his nose, then to her extended finger, alternating between the two. Normally, it was a straightforward task, but Bucky's movements were slightly unsteady and imprecise, and his tremor was obvious in his flesh hand. His finger wavered off course before finally finding its mark.
For the cognitive tests, Dr. Raynor evaluated Bucky's memory and processing speed. She asked him to repeat a sequence of numbers backward. Usually proficient at such tasks, Bucky struggled visibly, his brow furrowing in concentration as he stumbled over the sequence, needing multiple attempts to complete it correctly.
Then, Dr. Raynor presented a list of words for Bucky to remember. After a brief distraction, she asked him to recall as many words as he could. Bucky hesitated, frustration evident on his face as he managed to remember only a partial list of the words.
Throughout the tests, Bucky's abnormal reactions were subtle but significant. His reflexes were slower than expected, and his coordination showed minor impairments in precision and accuracy. His cognitive performance, while not severely impaired, displayed signs of decreased processing speed and working memory.
After completing the tests, Dr. Raynor carefully noted her observations, her expression thoughtful yet concerned. She set aside her clipboard and turned to face Bucky and Sam, her demeanor professional yet compassionate.
"James, based on these initial tests, there are some concerning findings," Dr. Raynor began gently. "Your reflexes are slower than expected, and there are indications of mild cognitive and motor impairments."
Bucky's heart sank, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. He glanced at Sam, who met his gaze with unwavering support and concern.
"What does that mean?" Bucky asked quietly, his voice tinged with apprehension.
Dr. Raynor took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "It means we need to proceed with more specialized tests to get a clearer picture of what's happening. We'll schedule an MRI to examine your brain in more detail, and I'll consult with specialists, maybe Dr. Strange, who has experience with super soldiers and their unique physiology."
As Dr. Raynor outlined the plan for more specialized tests, Bucky felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Tests. The word hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of his time as the Winter Soldier. Test after test had been performed on him, experiments conducted without his consent, turning him into a weapon of destruction.
Bucky nodded slowly, his mind racing. The thought of more invasive procedures brought back a flood of memories he had buried deep within himself. The cool, clinical air of Dr. Raynor's office seemed to press in on him, triggering an intense of a short man with round glasses to flash across his vision.
Bucky clenched his fists, trying to push back the rising tide of fear. His breathing picked up as he began to panic. His hands gripped the edge of the couch cushion tightly, knuckles turning white. The room seemed to transform into a cold, dimly lit lab from his darkest memories. Dr. Raynor's voice explaining the need for more tests echoed hollowly in his ears, triggering a surge of panic that gripped his chest like a vice.
Sam watched him closely, concern etching lines on his face. "Buck, you okay?" Sam's voice was gentle but urgent, trying to break through the fog descending upon Bucky.
Bucky tried to respond, but his words caught in his throat. His breathing grew shallow and rapid, his chest rising and falling in sync with his escalating panic. His vision blurred at the edges, and the room spun around him.
Dr. Raynor stepped closer, her expression filled with concern as she assessed Bucky's deteriorating state. "James, I need you to focus on your breathing," she instructed calmly, her voice a lifeline in the chaos.
But Bucky couldn't seem to catch his breath. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to burst free. The memories of past tests, and the invasive procedures, surged to the forefront of his mind, overwhelming him.
Sam moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady him. "Breathe, Buck. You're safe," Sam urged, his voice steady and reassuring.
With effort, Bucky managed to draw in a ragged breath, but it wasn't enough. The room felt oppressively hot now, suffocating him as if the walls were closing in. His head spun, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
And then, without warning, Bucky's body betrayed him. The world tilted dangerously, and his grip on consciousness slipped away. His muscles went slack, and he slumped backward against Sam's supporting arm.
Sam caught him just in time, lowering him gently to the floor as Dr. Raynor swiftly moved to his side. The sounds around him became distant echoes as Bucky drifted into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Sam's worried face hovering above him.
--------------------
Time seemed to blur as Bucky gradually regained consciousness. Awareness returned in fragments—voices murmuring, and hand on his shoulder, the soft touch of a cool cloth on his forehead.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh brightness of the overhead lights. Dr. Raynor stood nearby, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. Sam sat beside him, his presence a reassuring anchor.
"You passed out, Buck," Sam explained quietly, his voice laced with worry. "But you're okay now."
Bucky struggled to sit up, his head pounding and limbs heavy. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and embarrassment.
Dr. Raynor shook her head gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need to apologize, James. Panic attacks can be overwhelming, especially given your history."
Bucky nodded weakly, still feeling disoriented and vulnerable. He glanced around the room, the familiar office no longer felt dangerous.
"We need to monitor you for a bit longer," Dr. Raynor continued, her tone gentle yet authoritative. "You're stable now, but passing out was a clear sign of distress."
Bucky nodded again, too drained to argue. He leaned back against the side of the couch, closing his eyes briefly against the lingering dizziness. His headache was starting to get bad again.
"Buck, you don't have to do this alone," Sam said firmly, his tone unwavering. "We're here with you. Dr. Raynor is here to help."
Bucky met Sam's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and determination reflected there. He took a deep breath, forcing away the last tendrils of panic.
Dr. Raynor spoke again, her voice calm and reassuring. "James, I understand your concerns. We will proceed at your pace, with your consent. You have control over what happens next."
He nodded slowly. Although the past couldn’t be erased, and he couldn't undo the horrors he had endured, he could decide his future. He could face the challenges ahead with courage and determination.
"I'll contact Dr. Strange today and discuss your case with him," Dr. Raynor said gently, her voice cutting through the tense silence of the room. I'll get back to you tomorrow with his insights and recommendations."
Bucky nodded slowly, his mind racing with questions and uncertainties. The thought of another doctor, especially as renowned—and perhaps as enigmatic—as Dr. Strange, entering his life brought a fresh wave of anxiety. Yet, he knew he needed answers, needed someone who understood the complexities of his history as the Winter Soldier and the potential implications for his current health.
"Thank you, Dr. Raynor," Bucky managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"We appreciate everything you're doing," Sam added sincerely. "It means a lot to both of us."
Dr. Raynor nodded graciously. "It's my job to advocate for my patients," she replied, her tone warm yet professional. "James’ health and well-being are my top priority."
Dr. Raynor smiled warmly at him, a gesture of encouragement and understanding. "We'll take it one step at a time. You're not alone in this."
As they left Dr. Raynor's office, the weight of the day's revelations was heavy on their shoulders. But as they walked side by side through the bustling streets of New York, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope – hope that with Sam by his side, he might find the strength to face whatever lay ahead.