Aftermath

A Vacation in a foreign Land,

Uncle Sam does the Best he can.

Now you remember what the Draftsman said,

Nothing to do all Day but stay in Bed.

 
Somehow they made it back to the tents that had been set up to accommodate the freed soldiers upon their return. It was a painfully slow progress. Even though the Serum enhanced his strength and stamina, it wasn’t quite the simplest of tasks to drag a grown adult along. Bucky’s movements were uncoordinated at best and he kept stumbling over his own two feet. Most of his weight rested on Steve and his face was buried somewhere in the fabric of his Uniform. Steve wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to be annoyed with his stupidity or relieved that Bucky still trusted him enough to let his guard down. Something he’d only ever done in front of his own family and his best friend.

“Still freaking irresponsible to get drunk as a sailor”, the blond grumbled and finally shoved Bucky into his tent. The brunet only muttered something illegible in response while he tugged the tarpaulin closed with one hand to keep the cool night outside. When Bucky actually tried to free himself from the tight grasp around his waist, he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “You’ll end up meeting the ground face-first, Stupid.” Instead of waiting for more protests, he pushed him towards one of the folding cots.

Once he’d coaxed his shitfaced friend into taking a seat, he knelt down and unlaced his heavy boots before pulling them off his feet. Then he moved to unbuttoning his Uniform which probably wouldn’t have been a challenge if the brunet hadn’t decided to help with the task. It took him almost fifteen minutes and several times of swatting at his interfering hands to manhandle Bucky and his uncoordinated limbs out of his jacket.

“Sleep it off, Stupid”, he muttered and tugged the blanket over the brunet after unceremoniously pushing him into a lying position. “And don’t you dare complain about the headache tomorrow”, he added for good measure while he kept watching Bucky to make sure he didn’t turn onto his back and ended up suffocating by accident. Only when his breathing started evening out and his body lost its tension, Steve got back to his feet and changed out of his clothes to get settled in his own bed.

For once he was grateful for his rank and that they’d provided him with his own quarters. That way he could at least shield Bucky from the other soldiers until he’d sobered up. Even though he barely even bat an eyelid at most insults and didn’t hesitate to stand his ground, he wouldn’t have heard the end of the story if the soldiers had caught their Sergeant spilling his guts because he couldn’t hold his liquor.

It actually wasn’t quite like Bucky to get this drunk, too. Even when they’d snuck out in the past and grabbed some drinks from shady places, he’d always been the responsible one. He had always made sure to stop before he reached his limits to guide Steve back home and make sure he got into bed safely. There had only been a few occasions when Steve had seen him drunk enough to stumble over his own feet.

The last time had been roughly five years ago after his Dad had been killed in a parachute accident. All of a sudden, Bucky had been the only man in the house. The widow’s pension the army provided and the few Pennies his mother earned were barely enough to provide food for his sisters. To support his own family and Steve at the same time, Bucky had started working double shifts on a daily basis – and when that failed to quieten the sorrow lodged inside his heart, he’d drowned it in a bottle of cheap Whiskey.

It had been well past midnight when Steve had found him on the cold stone steps of the church. He’d tried to talk some sense into him first, unaware what had caused his responsible best friend to elope with a bottle of booze. But in the end he’d just taken a seat beside him, trying to comfort him through the helpless sobs that shook his body once his brave facade had started crumbling.

When exhaustion had taken over, he’d convinced him to come home. Dragging the brunet through the silent streets of Brooklyn had been nearly impossible, but they’d somehow made it to the shabby apartment and collapsed on the creaking couch shortly before the city stirred back to life.  

Steve frowned at the memories and studied the sleeping brunet for a long moment. The shadows beneath his eyes looked worse in the dim light the single lantern provided. The vicious black colour of the bruises along his jawline had faded to a blueish-green by now, but they looked just as bad as in broad daylight. And in that very moment, Steve couldn’t help wondering if Bucky had felt the need to drown his sorrows tonight too. If the things he’d seen at the frontlines and during his imprisonment had messed with him to that extent. If the memories were bad enough to make him feel like he couldn’t even talk to his best friend and that he had to find another way to put his troubled mind at ease.

A sting of conscience replaced his initial itritation with Bucky. Ever since they’d gotten back to Base, he’d barely paid attention to the brunet. First it had been the reports that had kept him busy, then discussing the necessary steps to track down Hydra. Even at the mess, he’d spent more time with his newfound comrades than with his best friend. With the one person who’d had his back long before he’d turned into a Supersoldier and the acclaimed Hero of the Nation.

He should have realised that Bucky’s mind had been occupied with other things than celebrations when he’d hesitated to join him for drinks. If he’d gotten him to talk about the issues or just stayed around for more than a few minutes, he might not have turned to the Whiskey to help him out with what must have been overwhelming emotions.

Then again, Bucky had never been someone to talk about his feelings and to put them out in the open. He’d always preferred to hide them from the world and to deal with his troubles in silence. Steve had accepted it without questions and up to this point, it hadn’t been any cause of concern. Sometimes Bucky came around and told Steve what bothered him. Sometimes he resolved the issues without saying a word while Steve just sat with him in comfortable silence as if his presence was enough to solve a problem already.

Either way, Steve decided they would have to talk in the morning. He’d finally make time for Bucky and shut the world out to make sure he wouldn’t feel the need to turn to booze again. Maybe they could even get away from the base for a few hours to catch their breath. His responsibilities and getting back to the frontlines couldn’t outweigh the needs of his best friend.

He turned the lamp down until the flame went out, dipping the inside of the tent in soft darkness. Then he settled under his own blankets and listened to the soft breathing of the brunet until the exhaustion claimed him as well and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

It wasn’t the sun or the bustling that usually disturbed the slumbering camp when the guards changed shift just before dawn that dragged his weary mind from the comfortable darkness. It were soft whimpers and breathless cries, imbued with almost feral freight. He didn’t know what to make of the sounds first and was tempted to pull the pillow over his head to block them out.

Until he recalled he’d dragged his shitfaced best friend back to his tent mere hours ago. He hauled himself from his cot within seconds, not even bothering to put his boots on or lighting the lantern. Instead he stumbled through the darkness, stubbing his toes and tangling the strap of a duffle bag around his ankle in the progress. He huffed in annoyance and freed his throbbing toes with one hand.

“Buck?”, Steve questioned when he finally reached the other side of the tent, squinting to get a good look at the brunet despite the darkness. He’d curled up beneath the roughspun banket, barely taking up more than half of the folding cot anymore. Even in the dark, Steve could see the violent shivers running down his spine. Something was most definitely wrong and he needed to figure the reason out. “Bucky...?”, he tried again, softening his voice this time and lightly tugging at the blanket. There was another quiet whine, but no response.

Worry clawed at his insides while he knelt down on the hard ground, not quite caring about the cold dampness that seeped through his trousers. “Wake up, Buck”, he murmured and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing but a dream. You’re safe and sound with me, okay?” Even though his movements stilled for a few seconds, touch didn’t seem to get through to the brunet. A low groan remained his only reaction.

“Please, Buck. Wake up for a few minutes at least”, he kept pleading in vain and reached up to press his palm against the side of his face. He recoiled as soon as their skin connected. Bucky was radiating more heat than the blistering tarmac of Brooklyn’s streets in the midst of summer. His cheeks were damp with sweat and what might have been tears of distress. Despite his good manners and his fondness of proper language, Steve couldn’t help but curse under his breath.

„Okay. We’ll deal with this in a second. Stay right there“, he muttered even though Bucky probably wouldn’t go anywhere within the next hours. He lightly squeezed his shoulder again before scrambling back to his feet to light the lantern. In his hurry to ease his friend’s suffering, he dropped the box of matches twice and broke three of the sticks in half before one caught fire and he managed to ignite the wick. He turned the lamp up until the shadows retreated through the corners of the tent and started rummaging through his few belongings.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with his findings, but the items would have to bridge the time until he could leave his friend for a few minutes to look for more supplies. For the .oment he returned to Bucky though, wetting the handkerchief with water from his battered canteen. Then he gently pressed the cloth against his pale cheeks. At first Bucky squirmed and tried to escape the sudden chill by turning his head away from Steve, but soon enough he started to relax and his frantic movements stilled. Steve breathed a sigh of relieve while he kept running the cloth over his flushed face and down his neck.

“Come on, Buck. Wake up for a second there”, he finally tried coaxing him back to the conscious world once more. “I want to make sure you’re alright, Pal.” His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t quite come around to wakefulness. Therefore the few words he murmured made his skin crawl all the more: “It hurts, Stevie.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with terrors that Steve couldn’t even comprehend. It wasn’t the voice of his best friend who’d dragged him to the Future to meet some girls the night before he was shipped to the frontlines like the prospect of a War was nothing to be worried about in the slightest.

Steve’s frown deepened. “What exactly, Buck?”, he inquired even though it felt like a futile attempt to ask while his temperature was spiking and he was barely coherent enough to form a full sentence. To his surprise, Bucky forced his eyes open this time and caught his gaze. The radiant colour of his irises seemed dull despite their feverish glaze and his voice wavered, but his thoughts seemed to be lucid in that very moment. “Not the sickbay, promise.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the request and if he’d actually be able to keep such a promise. In the progress of caring for him when he’d frequently been plagued by illnesses his Mom had taught him some basic knowledge. He knew that peppermint could ease headaches and nausea, knew that lukewarm baths often sufficed to bring fevers down and that fluids were important to avoid the complications of dehydration. But that wouldn’t be enough to help Bucky in case his condition worsened.

“Please, Steve...”, the rough voice dragged his attention back to the brunet. “Please don’t make me go through that again. I want to stay here. Please.” He almost came undone when Bucky actually started begging for his word. His breathing came in small gasps now and Steve was quite sure he’d work himself into a full-blown panic if he didn’t calm down soon. It actually chilled him to the bone. James Buchanan Barnes had never begged for anything in his entire life. Even when Steve’s bullies had brought him to his knees and cracked one of his ribs, he’d done nothing but gritting his teeth and pledging revenge.

“I won’t take you to the sickbay, I promise”, he reassured the brunet in hopes of calming him down before his ragged breathing caused more harm. “For now, at least”, he added quietly when Bucky breathed a small sigh of relieve and allowed his eyes to close once more. Apparently the short conversation had been enough for the exhaustion to creep up on him and claim his body.

“Don’t fall back asleep just yet though”, Steve warned and did his best to imitate the soft firmness of his mother’s voice when she’d tended to him, lightly stroking along his jawline in the progress to keep his attention. “What hurts, Buck? I need to know to make sure you’ll be alright”, Steve tried to coax him into answering his questions. He couldn’t allow him to fall back asleep without any clue about the reason for his deteriorating health. To his dismay, Bucky still remained silent for several minutes and only groaned in what might have been annoyance when he gave his shoulders a firm nudge.

“It’s m’ hands”, he finally slurred when Steve was ready to give up on talking to his best friend and drag him to the sickbay instead. He stilled in his movements to rise from the folding cot and wrinkled his forehead in confusion. Except for the obvious bruises and some minor burns, Bucky hadn’t complained about any injuries after they’d fled from the collapsing building and started the long track back to the camp.

“I’ll have a look, alright?”, he returned and carefully tugged the blanket aside to get a hold of his wrist to examine his hands without touching the sore area. As soon as his fingers came into contact with the cuffs of his shirt, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and barely suppressed a horrifying wail that eerily echoed through the otherwise perfectly silent tent. Steve let go of his wrist like he’d been bitten by a monstrosity lingering in the shadows. “Sorry, sorry”, he muttered and refrained from touching the brunet again. Instead he carefully started rolling his sleeves up to get a better look.

It wasn’t quite as easy as he’d anticipated. The rough fabric stuck to his skin and he had to peel it away in a painfully slow progress. What he discovered once he’d finally pulled the sleeves back twisted his stomach into tight knots and made his skin crawl with dread. The usually pale skin of his wrists had assumed an angry red colour and where what must have been shackles had chafed it down to flesh, it was glistening with the moisture of fresh blood and purulence.

“Crap, Buck”, Steve sucked in a sharp breath and gently rested his hands back on the blanket. “Why didn’t you say something right away?” He must have been in pain since before they’d even come to rescue the soldiers from the weaponry and still he’d carried on without uttering a word while keeping a firm grasp of his rifle. Imagining the pain that firing a shot and holding the rifle steady despite the recoil must have inflicted made Steve wince in sympathy – and yet he had remained oblivious throughout all those days.

His heart clenched at the thought, but he didn’t have any time to dwell on the feeling of regret right now. First he had to make sure that Bucky would be alright. “Keep still, okay? I’ll get some supplies and take care of those wounds.” He was back on his feet and rummaging through his luggage within seconds. It still took him a good while to find the meagre medical supplies he kept around for emergencies occurring in the field. “Well, this got to do for the time being”, he determined once he’d gathered some towels to clean the wounds and fresh bandages. “Just got to boil the water and towels now, then we’ll be good to go”, he kept talking to himself while he set a small kerosene stove and a battered pot up.

While he waited for the water to boil and cool down afterwards, he returned to perching on the edge of the folding cot besides Bucky. Even though his breathing remained laboured, he seemed a little more relaxed and on the verge of going back to sleep. Steve only heaved a slow sigh, wetting the abandoned cloth once more and placing it on his forehead before pressing the canteen to his chapped lips to coax him into drinking a few sips. He didn’t quite succeed and most of the water just trickled down from the corner of his mouth.

“I guess we’ll try that again later”, he muttered not quite satisfied and even pondered about moving Bucky to the sickbay right away. In the end his guilty conscience kept him from breaking the latest promise to his friend and he decided to at least give the wet cloth a chance to prove its worth. Maybe it would be enough to get his spiking temperature down and spare Bucky the attention after all the struggles he’d faced.

“Guess it wasn’t the booze that made you sick in the first place, huh?”, he mused and cupped his chin in his hand. He should have realised that, too. Bucky had declined the food they’d been offered upon their return and had probably been running a temperature all day. But with his mind already occupied by the next mission and setting up a commando, he had been to distracted to take notice of his odd behaviour.

“I’ve really failed you this time”, he shook his head and adjusted the blanket, making sure he didn’t jostle his hands in the progress. He already dreaded cleaning the infected wounds since that would most definitely disturb the rest he needed to make a swift recovery again. “But there won’t be any missions until you’re back on your feet. Promise.” He stroked some stray strands of hair from his forehead, allowing his fingertips to brush against his overheated skin for a split decond. He’d already lost Bucky once and the grief had been overwhelming even though it had been a temporary experience. He wouldn’t leave his side again. “Just like you never left mine.”

He kept his word and remained by his bedside for the rest of the night. Once the boiled water had cooled down enough, he carefully picked one of the soaked towels up and started cleaning his wounds. Except for some pitiful whimpers that slipped past his lips, Bucky suffered in silence and remained on the verge of unconsciousness. This time, Steve was fairly grateful about it. Even if it was for his best, he hated adding to his pain and seeing Bucky in such distress.

“There you go. You can rest at ease now”, he whispered and tied the last of the pristine bandages before he tucked him back under the blanket. He only got up twice throughout the next hours to get more water to wet the cloth and to force some down his throat when the brunet woke up for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the success was of short duration. Within mere seconds, Bucky was leaning over the edge of the cot and heaved the few sips of water back up.

Otherwise he only stirred a few times, but didn’t quite wake up again. He’d never seen Bucky in such a bad shape before and even though he was Captain America and the Hero of a Nation now, Steve felt utterly helpless while he kept an eye on his friend. During the few times he’d been down with the flu after working in the freezing cold, he at least had been awake and coherent once in a while. Now it felt more like he tried to break through the surface of consciousness, but never quite managed to get a hold of his surroundings before he slipped back into the lingering darkness.

By dawn, Steve couldn’t sit still anymore and paced through the tent. Apparently he couldn’t really help Bucky since all of his attempts to bring his temperature down had failed. But breaking his word and taking him to the sickbay felt like betrayal. In the end, his worry won anyways. He checked up on Bucky one last time and tried to wake him up. But all he got in response was a weak groan that quickly turned into a rattling breath.

“Okay, Buck”, he huffed and scurried to the other side of the tent. He stepped into his boots and simultaneously put his jacket on without bothering to make sure his Uniform looked decent. “I promised to refrain from doing this, but we’re going to get you help.” His limp body was just as hard to handle as his unsteady stumbling last night, but he somehow managed to drag the brunet into a sitting position. Then he wrapped one arm around his waist and squeezed the other one beneath his knees to pick him up bridal style, somehow tugging the blanket tightly around his shivering form in the progress. He was still amazed that he managed to pick Bucky up without straining his muscles too much – and worried that the brunet didn’t even attempt to struggle in his arms. His head fell against his shoulder, its feverish heat seeping through the fabrics of his Uniform. “Let’s go”, Steve muttered and hurried outside without bothering to close the tarpaulin behind himself, heading straight towards the sickbay that occupied one of the few actual buildings in the area.