Chapter 9
Bucky couldn't handle the news anymore. He needed space, air—anything to escape the overwhelming weight of Dr. Strange’s words. He rushed out of the office, ignoring the strange looks from people, and dashed into the single-occupant restroom at the end of the hall. His hands shook as he fumbled with the lock, finally securing himself in the small, stark room with beige-tiled walls that seemed to close in on him.
Collapsing onto the cold floor beneath the sink, Bucky clasped his hands together, his flesh and vibranium pressed tightly against his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he fought to slow his breathing. In Hydra, tears were a weakness that would have resulted in punishment. Was this diagnosis some twisted punishment for his past sins as the Winter Soldier?
He rocked back and forth, each movement punctuated by a choked sob. Panic gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe as the weight of the news settled in. The fight against Hydra had been brutal, but facing cancer was a battle he hadn't prepared for.
"Why?" he muttered through clenched teeth, frustration, and despair intertwining in his voice. The memories of Hydra's brutality and manipulation surged back, mixing with the overwhelming reality of his present situation.
His whole body trembled with grief. "Why me?" he pleaded quietly, his voice muffled behind the tight press of his hands. The question echoed in his mind, a desperate plea for answers that seemed to hang unanswered in the stark silence of the restroom.
"Why now? Why like this?" he muttered hoarsely, the words choked with emotion. He felt a deep sense of injustice, disbelief that after everything he had endured, fate had dealt him this blow.
A knock on the door startled him. "Bucky, it's Sam," came a muffled voice. "Can we come in?"
There was a tense silence before Bucky responded, "Yeah."
Sam glanced at Dr. Raynor, who nodded reassuringly at him as they heard the door unlock. They entered the small bathroom together, finding Bucky huddled against the wall. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.
"Buck," Sam said softly, crouching down beside him. "I'm here, man."
Bucky’s breath hitched as he struggled to articulate the emotions crashing over him. His heart pounded against his chest, his breaths coming in gasps now. He struggled to grasp any semblance of control over himself as panic overwhelmed him.
"Bucky, it's okay," Dr. Raynor's calm voice broke through the haze as she kneeled beside him. “Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow."
Bucky tried to follow her guidance, but his thoughts raced uncontrollably. Images flashed through his mind—of battles fought, friends lost, a life shaped by war and now threatened by something he couldn't fight with a vibranium arm or enhanced strength.
"We're here to help," Dr. Raynor said gently as she patiently repeated the breathing exercises with him.
"I... I don't know what to do," Bucky gasped once he could breathe.
"We'll figure it out together," Sam said firmly, placing a grounding hand on Bucky's shoulder, silently offering support as Bucky allowed himself to confront the total weight of his despair.
Bucky looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. "It's not fair," he cried, his voice thick with anguish. "I've been fighting my whole damn life. And just when I thought... I thought maybe I could finally have some peace..."
Sam nodded empathetically, his eyes reflecting the gravity of Bucky's words. "You've been through so much, Buck," he said softly, "More than anyone should ever have to endure."
Dr. Raynor nodded in agreement, "You've faced challenges that would break most people," she said, her tone filled with empathy. "And now, you'll have to summon that same strength to face this."
"I... I don't want to lose myself," Bucky confessed, his voice cracking with emotion. "For so long, I've battled the darkness inside me... The Winter Soldier. And just when I thought... I thought maybe I could finally have a life," he admitted, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Not just survive, but actually live, this happens."
Sam squeezed Bucky's shoulder reassuringly. "We're not giving up, Buck," he said firmly. "We'll find a way through this, no matter what." His determination was a beacon of hope.
Bucky nodded slowly, "I appreciate you both being here," he said, his voice steadier now. "I just... I don't know what comes next."
"We'll take it one step at a time," Dr. Raynor said gently. "First, we'll go back and hear the rest of what Dr. Strange has to say. Then, we'll explore our options and make a plan."
Bucky nodded again, feeling a flicker of hope. "Okay," he said quietly, "Steve... he helped me find a way back," he continued, his voice tinged with sorrow."After everything... he believed in me. And now..."
Dr. Raynor nodded understandingly, her gaze filled with compassion. "We believe in you too, Bucky," she said softly. "You're not alone in this; the progress you've made and the strength you've shown are still a part of you. This diagnosis doesn't define who you are."
Minutes passed, though they felt like an eternity amid Bucky's anguish. Gradually, the intensity of his sobs began to subside, replaced by quiet sniffles and ragged breaths. He lifted his head slowly, eyes red-rimmed and raw with emotion. Slowly, he allowed Sam and Dr. Raynor to help him up from the floor.
Sam stood by Bucky's side, offering a steady presence as he collected himself. "You're stronger than you think, Buck," Sam said quietly, his voice filled with compassion.
"I... I'm sorry," Bucky managed, his voice hoarse and filled with vulnerability.
Dr. Raynor shook her head gently, grabbing a tissue and handing it to Bucky."There's nothing to apologize for," she assured him softly. "You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling right now."
Bucky took another steadying breath and splashed water from the sink on his face.
"Take a moment," she gently encouraged. When you're ready, we can talk to Dr. Strange about what comes next."
"You okay to go back?" Sam asked softly.
Bucky nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes. "Yeah," he replied hoarsely, his throat still tight with emotion. "Let's get this over with."
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Dr. Strange looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of concern and compassion. "Bucky, Sam, please have a seat," he said calmly, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.
Bucky sank into the chair heavily, his mind racing with questions and fears. Sam sat beside him, offering silent solidarity. Dr. Raynor positioned herself nearby, a reassuring presence in the face of uncertainty.
"Now that you've had a moment," Dr. Strange began, his tone measured yet compassionate, "let's discuss what we know and our next steps."
Dr. Strange motioned for Bucky and Sam to look at the large monitor displaying the CT scan. "Here," Dr. Strange said, pointing to the screen where the image of Bucky's brain was displayed. "This is your brain, Bucky."
Bucky stared at the monitor, the image of his own anatomy both surreal and daunting. He listened intently as Dr. Strange explained the details of the scan.
"You can see here," Dr. Strange continued, tracing a line on the screen, "the tumor is located in your frontal lobe. It's been causing the headaches, the seizures, and the other symptoms you've been experiencing."
Bucky's stomach twisted with each word, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper. He glanced at Sam, who stood beside him, his expression a mix of concern and determination.
"Is it... is it treatable?" Bucky finally managed to ask, his voice betraying a hint of desperation.
Dr. Strange paused, his gaze sympathetic yet direct. "We're in uncharted territory here, Bucky," he admitted. "Your enhanced physiology makes this case unique. But we'll do everything possible to find the best course of action."
"We'll explore all options," Dr. Raynor reassured him, calm yet firm. "We'll consult with specialists, consider custom treatments, and make a plan tailored to you."
Bucky took a deep breath, finding a sliver of resolve amidst the turmoil. "Okay," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the CT scan.
Dr. Strange outlined the initial steps: consultations with neuro-oncologists specializing in rare cases like Bucky's, further imaging to assess the tumor's precise characteristics, and discussions about potential treatment options, most likely to consist of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. As they sat in the office, the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, yet there was also a determination to face it head-on.
"We'll need to move quickly," Dr. Strange emphasized, his voice steady. "Time is of the essence with glioblastoma."
Sam nodded, his jaw set with determination. "Whatever it takes," he affirmed, his eyes unwavering as he looked at Bucky.
Bucky nodded back, a mixture of fear and determination on his face. "I'm ready," he said quietly, his voice carrying a resolve that surprised even himself.
Dr. Raynor gently touched Bucky's shoulder, "We're all here to support you."
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As they left Dr. Strange's office, the weight of the diagnosis still heavy on their minds, Bucky and Sam found a quiet corner outside the building. They stood silently for a moment, processing everything they had just heard.
"I didn't expect this," Bucky admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "After everything..."
Sam placed a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "But we're going to fight this, Buck. Together."
Bucky nodded, grateful for Sam's unwavering support. "Thanks, Sam," he said sincerely. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"We're in this together," Sam replied, his voice filled with determination. "And we'll find a way through it."
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