Bucky didn't ask me about it; we just moved past it and continued with the day as if I hadn't been crying on him for an hour. I think he knew why already though.
We headed out for the lab right after.
"Good morning!" Shuri greeted, ready to start the final tests.
A few other doctors and lab techs were present, off to the side a few trays with varying needles and tubes, a few different IV kits, and other medical equipment.
I felt Bucky's hand tighten around mine, a tremor pulsing through his arm. I looked over to see his eyes locked onto the trays, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Fear? Not just fear. Terror.
He was petrified, frozen in place. His breathing had become shallow and rapid. His pupils dilated. It was like his body knew what was coming before his mind could process it.
He wasn't standing in Shuri's lab anymore. He was somewhere else, cold, sterile, and horrible. Somewhere in Hydra's grasp.
I squeezed his hand in a pulsing rhythm to ground him. "Shuri, how about I help you with these tests? I know I don't have formal medical training, but I've helped you a lot in the lab. Maybe just you, me, and your assistant can handle this?"
Shuri looked confused, her eyes darting to Bucky, realizing where his gaze had frozen.
"Yes, that would probably be best." She nodded, gesturing for everyone else to leave. Then she moved swiftly, covering the trays with a nearby cloth.
Finally, he took a deep breath, and his eyes shifted back to me.
"I'm here. I won't let anyone do anything," I assured him, still pulsing my grip on his hand.
He nodded, barely.
We got him to the exam table. Shuri asked him to remove his shirt so she could check him. He hesitated, glancing at me.
I had never seen him shirtless. When he changed, I gave him privacy. This man who had known every inch of my body, who had left love marks trailing down my thighs, my collarbone, the curve of my spine, I had never seen any of his.
He undid the knot on his clothes slowly, with trembling hands. Each layer came off like it weighed a hundred pounds. When the last fabric of his top dropped to the floor, I forgot how to breathe.
He didn't look at me. He stared ahead, jaw locked tight, bracing.
His torso was a battlefield.
Raised scars snaked across his chest like a battle field map drawn in pain. Bullet wounds, four that I could count. Thick surgical scars that looked like they'd been closed crudely with staples, burns, and brute force. No care. No kindness.
Around his shoulder, where Shuri had removed the old mechanics, were red, angry marks, surgical, sure, but surrounded by claw marks. Jagged and raw, as if he'd fought and tried to tear the arm off himself.
I felt bile rise in my throat.
On his chest and stomach, more cuts. Odd punctures as well, two small holes just a few inches apart, scattered across his skin.
Shuri voiced the question I couldn't form.
"What are these from? These aren't injection marks."
He swallowed hard. "Electric shock sticks."
His voice broke on the last word. He still wouldn't look at us.
Shuri didn't push. She quietly checked his scars to ensure they were healed and took his vitals.
"Can you turn around for me?" she asked. "I need to see your back."
He did.
It was worse.
More scars, more claw marks. His skin stretched and torn, like he'd pulled at it until it bled. Deep slashing gashes everywhere. Lastly a large scar followed the line of his spine.
"I broke parts of my spine in the fall," he said, glancing at me.
I kept a slight distance so Shuri could work, but I was close enough to reach for him. Close enough to catch him if he crumbled.
I covered my mouth with my hand. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it seemed enough. "I'm sorry" wouldn't do justice.
Then it came time to draw blood.
His body tensed. Shuri prepared the needle.
I took his hand in one of mine and placed the other gently on his forearm. His skin was cold, trembling.
"Don't let go," he whispered to me.
"Look at me, not the needle," I said softly.
He turned his head away, eyes locked on mine. When the needle entered, he flinched hard. His whole body jerked.
But he didn't cry out. He just held onto me like I was the only real thing in the world.
Finally, it was over.
Then came the brain scans. A precaution. I helped him into the seat, and he clung to me silently.
By the end, he looked drained. Haunted. Terrified.
Shuri slipped out to run the tests.
He stayed on the exam table, staring blankly at the ceiling. I climbed up next to him, gently placing my hand on his chest. His heartbeat still thudded under my palm.
His hand found my thigh, squeezing lightly.
"This is when they would wipe me," he said. "I remember."
My throat tightened. I turned to him, placing a hand on his cheek.
"No one is going to do that here. Or ever again. I'll kill them if they try."
He leaned into my touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
When Shuri returned, she gave us the all-clear to go.
I figured it was best not to let him sit and stew at home. After he dressed, I took him out to the city, showing him the sights.
But I could tell it overwhelmed him. His instincts kicked in: he still ducked into alleyways, avoided crowds, scanned every rooftop.
I held his hand, and let him move through the shadows if he needed to. This man had been in the darkness for so long. The light probably felt like a threat.
I understood. I had lived in shadows, too. I still reached for my hood sometimes, still looked over my shoulder when I walked.
When we got home, I collapsed on the bed. Bucky followed, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his head on my stomach.
"You okay?" I asked. As if I knew he wasn't but still I wanted him to tell me more.
I wanted to hear it, I knew it would be hard for both of us, but I wanted to know everything.
Was it my own selfish curiosity or did I just truly want to help him get the horrors out of his head in hope that they would leave if he spoke them out loud.
He hesitated.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe someday I will be."
I ran my fingers through his hair. It had gotten so long, curling over his ears and across my chest.
"Bucky, when you're ready, I'm here."
He murmured, "Thank you." Then, quieter still: "They broke me into pieces. Now I have to put them all back together."
"I'll help you, every step of the way."
I just held him like this for a while; I never planned to let go if he would allow me.