Reach For Me - Meeting - 1
Universe: AU- post Captain America The Winter Soldier, except we skip Civil War, Bucky comes to live in the tower to help the Avengers as much as he can. He has not gone to Wakanada.
Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n
Synopsis: You are starting a new job, courtesy of one Tony Stark. Tasked with becoming the head of medical and research for the Avengers and their companions. What you don't expect is to get under the skin of one ex assassin turned good guy, James Barnes.
Author notes: Hi đ I've never written MCU... so umm here we go...Nothing I write is short, this will be multi-chapter. Slow slow slow burn, they may not even like each other that much to start. Any characters from the MCU may appear. I will not note them cause there are too many, k. I will also not tag spoilers... be warned. This will be graphic, sad, and tragic... but there will be sparks I promise.
MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT.
Rating/Warning: Missing limbs, prosthetic, wounds, ptsd, long silences, brooding, Bucky (you know why), mentions of past torture, physical and mental.
All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.
You sit in your Corolla looking up at the massive building a block away. There was parking under the building for you, had your name on it and everything. Least thatâs what Stark told you, Tony Goddamn Stark. Heâd rolled into your lab one day and tossed your whole world upside down. Youâd had no idea he had been funding the university's research into neurolink prosthetics, or that he was the one that had backed your grant to get you through medical school. Now he wants you to be the head of medical at his infamous Stark Tower, keep an eye on the health of the Avengers.
Well it was more complicated than that. He wanted you specifically because you were a jack of all trades, youâd served in the military as a medic, done several years in New York's largest ER, before youâd decided to go back to your roots in neuro-science specifically to do with prosthetics bio-connections. Thatâs what he needed. Also someone who wasnât scared to stare super-soldiers down and not flinch.
The last part youâd assumed to be a joke, but now sitting here you werenât as sure. Drumming your fingers over the steering wheel you debated whether you should go in or not. How had you even ended up here? A doctor to the Avengers? It sounded comical just thinking about it.
How was it possible that you were more nervous than when you were jumping out of the back of a plane? Maybe youâd get to do that here too.
âFuck it,â You murmur, shifting the car into drive you head to your new job.
It was a whirl of paperwork, most of it you didnât understand, really should have brought it to a lawyer. The non-disclosure agreements were lengthy and in depth, but Pepper had summed them up as âWhat happens in the tower stays in the towerâ. It felt vaguely threatening, but the paperwork was almost soothing at this point. The tower is massive, it has full medical facilities, dozens of labs, lawyers on payroll, and then there was the Avengerâs end of things. You have been given a special pass to work up there. You have a small team of medical professionals you would be working with. Along with the team of assistance and crew of speciality staff that kept everyone from fighting with each other.
The first day is just that, paperwork, here is your clinic, this is the labs, please file things here and here. This is how the emergency system works, if you see an alien no you didnât.
You rubbed at your face as you sat in the small âclinic roomâ.White walls, that mix with metal paneling, behind you was a large glass window that looks out over the city. Beside you is your home monitor, the back would be facing the patient. Beside you were four others that you could use to pull up any images or information you needed to show the patient. Youâd already decide that you need at least one or two plants here, yes it was a clinical setting but it wasnât a jail cell either.
To your right was a door that leads into a small medical bay. It has a patient bed, and enough supplies for a full operation if needed. It was overkill really. You were dealing with gods, super soldiers, a green hulk, and the occasional super spy. Besides, there is already an operating theatre on this level that could be staffed within minutes; but it wasnât your money to burn.
Closing out your computer you grab the tablet that had all your new patients information. Most of it was standard, blood test, x-rays, ct-scan, injury lists and more. All neatly packaged inside a metal and glass case, with an encrypt password and fingerprint scan. You want to go over all the notes in detail, make sure there was nothing that was a miss.
Keys, and bag in hand you close up the clinic door and head towards the elevator. The place was quiet for such a large building, you would occasionally see agents, assistance, and others but for the most part it was empty. You were sure when the world was being threatened by alien invaders it was a hot spot, but right now it just felt cold.
The doors to the elevator open up and you come face to face with Captain America himself and The Winter Soldier. Your heart pounds for a moment, but you quickly push that down, the mask of professionalism slipping on as you walk in. They stood in running gear, Captain in all blue, and Soldier in all black.
âHi, I am Steven Rogers,â Captain America, Steve, said with a grin holding out his hand. âHi,â You reply, giving him your title and shaking his hand firmly, before turning to The Winter Soldier. Steve gestures with his thumb. âThatâs James Barnes, we are just heading out for a run,â Steve smiles, Bucky nodding at you but keeping his hands firmly folded across his chest.
âNice to meet you,â You nod at James, who stays silent, just staring back at you. Shuffling over you stand by the far side of the door, you remember the headlines about what happened to him. HYDRA, youâd heard enough about them to wonder how James was still standing upright.
You mentally note to go over his file in detail this evening. The elevator shifts into a mostly comfortable silence, you donât force conservation, and both men seem more than okay with that. You canât help that your heart is hammering. Would be difficult for anyone to stand in a small box with two Super Soldiers at their back. Least thatâs what you tell yourself. A chime at the main floor and the two men go to get off.
âNice to meet you,â Steve says, with his signature smile. âWeâll see you around.â
âHave a good evening,â You reply, resisting the urge to slam the close door button. James looks over his shoulder once, his eyes connecting with yours before turning back to Steve. You tell yourself that it was just a silent acknowledgement, but it doesnât feel like that. It feels like he is making sure you know that youâre being watched.
The room was small white, with the smell of metal and disinfectant hanging everywhere. One wall has four monitors, a small 3D model of him spun on one, another had his health stats, some just blank. He was interested in the one that showed what was left of his left arm and the one of his socket that attached the metal arm. He squints trying to read the little text boxes that hover over each point as they spin. Some highlight damages, others things that could be upgraded. The Doc had done her homework.
Looking at the images made him feel itchy, his hand going up to rub along where the metal seamed to his flesh. He mentally braces for pain to shoot through his neck, surprised when nothing happens, he'd gotten so used to them stopping him from touching it. The amount of times he'd tried to peel it off, ripe it out of his flesh, had led them to add tech that made it even more painful to try and remove.
He wasnât pleased to be there, why did he need some doctor to tell him what he already knew? The arm had been acting up yes, but he was sure Stark with all his money and tech could fix it.
Yet here he was sitting in a chair with no exit strategy, beside jumping out the window. Fingers tapping along the arm rest of the chair, hoping that things could be over soon.
A quiet knock on the door has him sitting up straight. He adjusts his shirt, hoping the wrinkles didn't show where he'd been rubbing.
âHi, James,â You say, slowly opening the door and walking in. Giving him a small smile as you walk over to the chair in front of the monitors. âDo you like James? Or would you prefer a different name?â
âUh- James, James is fine,â He mumbles, just loud enough to be heard. Unsure how to feel now that you are standing in front of him.
He'd seen you a few times since the first meeting in the elevator. You mostly kept to yourself, saying âhiâ to anyone that crossed your path, making polite conversation, and generally fitting in. He'd also spotted you hanging with Tony going over tech, and helping him modify different gear. You always smile at him and say hello, even if he barely replies. Never treating him any differently than anyone else. It was refreshing.
Steve had said you had a good air about you. Natasha hadn't scoffed, even called you pleasant. So after nearly a month of you requesting him to come by he had caved and come down.
âAlright, so Mr. Stark has asked me to take a look at the arm you've had installed.â You chatter away, you wear casual clothes, a button-up purple shirt, and black slacks. No white coat or name tag. âHe noted that it was uncomfortable, and wasnât operating as smoothly. Do you want to tell me about that?â
Swallowing, he held his breath as you looked at him. There was no intention behind your eyes, you weren't mining for intel or assessing if he was going to explode, just a simple question. Yet he could barely find words to say.
âIt's not bad, just needs some maintenance.â Bucky said flatly, his jaw clicking as he kept himself stiff. He wasn't going to go into detail to some stranger, despite how calm and cordial you were.
Or tell you that the pain kept him up at night, how it aches like it was frozen, or the nightmares. Shifting, he pushes those thoughts down, bringing him back to the present.
You nod, typing a few things into the computer. Not pressing him to answer or bombarding him with more questions.
âJames, I know this is all still really new. You're still settling in and learning about us, and well probably whether you can trust us.â You take a breath, his eyes watching you look at the screen. A small wrinkle appears between your brows as you focus. It shouldnât make his skin tingle when you look like that. âPlus I am new here, so itâs all new.â
You hesitate, lip worrying between your teeth, Bucky was definitely not filing all the little quirks you had, cause there was no reason for that. âI don't work for anyone, but you. Technically Stark pays me, but he doesn't meddle with what I do, there is no overreach. If you're not comfortable with the prosthetic I want to know.â
Bucky sits there, his eyes moving to yours, his body still as rigid as ever. âIt's fine.â
It wasn't fine, but he had dealt with it long enough and didn't need anyone's help.
âOkay,â You reply, he can see you holding back a sigh. Disappointment flickering under the uncertainty. Why the hell did you care so much?
âCould I take a look at your arm? Please, tell me no if you're uncomfortable.â
Bucky shifts a little, his face scrunching at the words, he wasnât used to someone giving him space. No one had pressed him to do anything he didn't want in the tower, but there were expectations of him. With you though, that didn't seem to be the case.
He shifts to the side, moving his right hand over to his left arm, the metal reacting to his touch. Gripping the metal he shifts and twists it so that it pops off the joint. Taking the arm he lays it out gently on the glass table with a clunk.
You roll over on your chair, not looking at the prosthetic, instead coming to look at the compression sleeve.
âAre you okay if I manipulate your arm?âHe nods, but winces when you touch over the residual limb. The skin is sensitive, sore, and has deep bruises, he forces himself to stay still and not move away.
You carefully look over the shoulder joint. The sleeve on it was worn, and he knew you could feel the swelling happening underneath it. âI am going to remove the sleeve, take a closer look at the skin.â
You talk to him, despite his limited replies. He watches as you carefully pull the cuff down. The joint is swollen, covered with crude scarring, there are several pressure sores that ache.
You grab gloves and carefully feeling the joint and bone, fingers feeling the rigid metal that has been used to reinforce the bone.
Bucky shifts a little as your hand pushes against one of the sores. He can feel the line of his shoulders tightening up, as you continue to palpate it.
âI would like to do a scan of the joint,â You say, as you lift and move the arm. Carefully watching how it rotates and moves. As if you hadnât just dropped a bomb on him.
âThe socket shouldn't leave these pressure sores. Especially with the advanced healing you have, I have a feeling the bone and metal are causing the discomfort."
âI canât do scans,â He swallows, his right hand shaking without his consent. The sound of the magnets flying around his head start to echo around him. Stomach twisting and tightening as he tries to suppress the urge to run.
You blink, sliding back just a little, giving him some space. âOkay.â
He watches the way you shift, how you carefully take off your gloves and toss them into the bin. âYou are not going to want to talk about it, which is fine. I am going to talk through some steps we could take so we could get scans.â
His right hand clenches into a fist, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Using everything in his power to stay seated. Youâre speaking but the worlds are not sinking in. He shakes his head, he wants to say something but all the words have been trapped somewhere in his throat. The panic is rising up the back of his neck like fire, he feels encased, stuck, breath and heart rate elevating.
âJames,â You say quietly, moving so that you were directly in front of him. âWe donât need to do anything right now. Or even in a week.â
He looks right at you, trying to see past any mask you might be hiding behind. âI can get you a new sleeve, we donât need scans for that.â
Trying to relax, he nods his head, hoping that you will keep to your word. His eyes move away staring at the floor, the pattern of the swirling speckled vinyl. His mind is a mess of images and sounds, the thumping of the magnets, the pulse of the electrical surge. The feeling of it buzzing through his head, the pain surging passed his skin and up his neck, how his molars ground against the mouth guard.
You move away rolling over to the prosthetic, looking down into where his arm latches. Examining internal workings, you go to pick it up and struggle. For some reason it snaps him out of his daze.
âI wasnât expecting it to be that heavy,â You squint at it, rolling it over the glass surface with a clunk. Bucky picks it up and holds it out for you to look closer at.
You look surprised for a moment but then take the moment to place your hand inside where his nub goes in.
âOh, yeah there are latches in here.â You move over to where he is sitting, you donât touch him just exam, lining up where his pressure sores are and the latches.
âThat should actually be a relatively easy fix. Would you mind coming to the lab-â You roll back to the computer, humming as you look at it. âLetâs do next Tuesday, Lab C, itâs on level seventy-eight.â
âSure,â Buck says, his voice a gruff whisper. He takes his arm and clicks it back into place, rotating it and twisting it.
The door clicks and you slump into the chair, rubbing your hand over your face. That had gone as well as could be expected, the man was a ball of trauma wrapped in stone, and dipped in concrete.
Steve had warned you that Bucky was leery of new people, and took a long time to warm up. At least he hadnât gone running the moment you asked a question.
Taking a breath you go back to your notes, you put in to have an assistant with you next Tuesday to adjust Buckyâs arm. It should be relatively easy, something that should have been caught weeks ago. Though, judging by the lack of notes from any previous Doctors, on James Barnes, they hadnât spent much time with him.
You plug away sipping on coffee, you need to reread the notes that had been gathered about James. Well, if they could even be called notes.
You had seen the few videos that had been found. Had taken a good chunk of first week to sit and force yourself to watch them. To see what had been done to him. Stark had warned you, everyone had, but you wanted to know. To understand why James was the way he was, this was something you took pride in. Knowing who your patients were, what they had been through, and how it affected their day to day life mattered.
The videos ended up being the worst thing youâd ever seen, they had purposefully kept him partially aware of what was happening. They had used the pain to help brainwash him, making his body be in a constant state of fight, while not being able to fight at all. As they peeled open his body, shoving metal and wires into him over and over.
Then without any recovery time theyâd freeze him, putting him under for an undetermined length of time.
Didnât even cover the neuro trauma that had happened, the machine that used a combination of electric pulse and sound waves to affect memory. No wonder he didnât want anything to do with CT scans, you shouldnât have even brought it up. Groaning, you try not to beat yourself up over the misstep.
The machine they used wasnât even completely understood, Hydra had of course destroyed it before anyone could get their hands on it. Maybe if you had it you could have worked at undoing the damage. Instead you were left with half ass notes, and grainy videos.
Pushing away from the computer, you decide it was time to go home. It had been a long day already, and you wanted to be in your own space. The drive back should be uneventful, meaning you could get to the lengthy amount of notes to spill over in your mind. Hopefully it would give you enough info to help James.
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