The arm was still a painful topic for Bucky, both literally and figuratively. When Hydra decided to enhance their super soldier even further with a state-of-the-art metal arm, they obviously ranked function above comfort.
It was a weapon, not a limb.
And Bucky knew that, and he was made aware of that fact. Every. Single. Day.
When he got up in the morning, his arm ached. The area that connected metal to flesh was persistently red and uncomfortable. When he sat still at the breakfast table, his arm hurt. When he went out for a walk, his arm burned.’
Sometimes he forgot about the pain, but he was always quickly reminded when he made a move too sudden or his arm made a noise of his arm decided to move on its own. Like it had its own mind.
Bucky felt out of control.
This wasn’t his body; the arm didn’t belong to him.
It just didn’t feel right.
-
So, when Tony offered to make him a new one, Bucky almost cried.
He would get his life back, his sense of self, he would be Bucky again.
And yes, he knew he would never be the old him, the witty, quick to comment, ladies-man, but he would be a step further away from being the Soldier, the machine that they made him.
-
Maybe he could sleep next to Steve again. Their relationship had been rekindled not long after they had been reunited, but Bucky had insisted on getting separate bedrooms.
He had only just gotten his best guy back, he could not lose him again, certainly not because he could not control his own arm.
He knew that he – ‘the Winter Soldier, not him’- had killed many, many, innocent, people. He tried to push the helpless faces, the agonizing screams, and the images of limp lifeless bodies from his mind.
He could not.
The S in PTSD suddenly made a lot of sense.
-
Getting a new arm was a good thing, Bucky reminded himself. Although it did bring back many memories of the horrors he had endured with it, getting a new arm was a new start.
-
He doesn’t know what the worst part is, the resurfacing memories he is unable to shake, or the fact that Steve couldn’t come with him to keep him calm.
Maybe the combination of both is the worst.
Steve has always been able to keep Bucky calm, ground him, bring him back to reality. How Bucky was able to live without him, he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he can ever do it again either.
But for now, he’s going to have to.
(‘Don’t be so dramatic James, they guy isn’t dead.’ his mother would have said.)
-
The room’s temperature was pleasant enough, but the atmosphere was chilly. Stark was waiting for him surrounded by all kinds of tools that didn’t look all too welcoming to Bucky.
They had agreed that the procedure would not take place in a chair that could be tilted back, it would remind Bucky too much of his time with Hydra. Instead, Bucky would be seated on a comfortable armchair, which coincidentally meant that he would have to stay awake the whole time.
(which suited Bucky just fine because he did not fully trust Stark, he was way too unpredictable)
His mind was clear enough that it reminded him to exchange a polite greeting with Tony. He slid into the chair, shifting uneasy until he found a position that worked. Somewhat.
The nerves were still dominating his mind.
“Ready to be transformed back into a human Soldier?” Tony remarked smirking.
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.” Bucky mumbled while slowly unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands.
He couldn’t help but think about all those times Hydra technicians had repaired or upgraded his arm, always without consent and aesthetic and always with pain. Being back in a similar environment pulled him back into the aggressive and defensive state of mind he had had at the time.
He tried to keep calm by making himself think of happy things (yeah yeah, he knows it’s cliché, but it helps, okay)
Steve, concentrating on his newest sketch, with his adorable concentrated face; Steve cooking, dancing around the kitchen to his favourite 40’s music; Steve watching a movie, curled up next to Bucky like he’s still the 5’’4 little shit he was before the war; Steve on his motorbike, Steve doing groceries; Steve, Steve, Steve-
Basically, everything Steve calmed Bucky down.
Which made it even harder that he couldn’t be here.
Tony’s face turned serious, which actually made Bucky more nervous because when was Stark ever serious?
“I know this is scary, well I don’t know, because I wasn’t captured and tortured for several decades, but I can imagine this is hard, well I can never fully imagine, but you get what I mean.” Tony stumbled.
“How about we just start of slowly, I will talk you through everything I do yeah? Can you take the old one off yourself?”
Bucky grumbled a bit but complied, unclicking the arm from the metal base embedded in his shoulder, handing the arm to Stark.
It still felt weird taking the arm of. From time to time the sensation of the arm and the memories connected to it get so much that Bucky has to take the arm of, but the novelty never wears of. He feels unbalanced and naked and broken without the arm, despite Steve’s insurances that he is still beautiful.
What he did to deserve Steve he still does not know.
“This shouldn’t take long, I just need to attach it and run some calibrations.” Tony was obviously trying (but not succeeding) to reassure Bucky.
It felt like his mind was split in two. Bucky knew that he shouldn’t make this a big deal, Tony knew what he was doing, and like he said, it would be over soon. But is was so hard to shake all the old experiences and feelings and thoughts and he was losing himself in a downward spiral again and honestly it all just felt a little much.
He shouldn’t take it out on Tony though, so he manages a tight smile and a small nod.
-
Turns out Tony was wrong.
It did take long.
Longer than Bucky could take.
He was exhausted, his mind could only think about those horrible memories and it was getting harder and harder to stay in the now, to keep his mind clear and to focus.
When Tony took the arm away for what felt like the hundredth time because “the calibrations are still not right, I thought I would have been able to fix it by now.” Bucky could cry.
-
God, or fate or whatever was up there, chose that exact moment to send Steve into the lab.
“Hey Buck, the meeting finished early so I thought I’d keep you compa- hey what’s wrong? Buck, are you okay?” His facial expression quickly turning worried.
Steve hurried to Bucky’s side, pulled up a chair to be as close to his husband as possible.
“Calm down Bucky, it’ll be okay, I’m here now. Can I touch you?” If Bucky had retreated into the Hydra mindset completely, he would probably lash out if anyone touched him, so Steve made sure to ask.
Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look at Steve, but he nodded slightly, trying not to let the tears fall from his eyes. Steve rested his hand on the back of Bucky’s flesh hand and squeezed softly, as if to make sure Bucky felt him and knew he was there for him.
“Where are you Buck, come back to me. You’re not with them anymore, love, you are here now.” The soothing voice of his best guy spoke to him.
The warm hand touching his rubbed consoling circles, grounding him and bringing him back to reality.
The images of Hydra agents, helpless faces and cryochambers slowly faded from his view.
Steve was here
“Stevie..”
-
They decided to continue the appointment some other time. Tony had asked if Bucky wanted the old arm back temporarily, but he declined.
With Steve by his side, he could overcome everything.
-
The new arm was amazing, Bucky made sure to tell Tony so.
He no longer felt like a weapon.
He was human again.