Wanda flew the jet faster than she should have. They arrived back at the compound at 17:50. Steve carried his catatonic friend to the medbay and gave his report to Helen and Bruce after they’d dressed Bucky in medical scrubs and strapped him into a hospital bed. Steve gave the full report, including everything that had been happening over the last five months. It took all of his resolve to look them in the eyes as he did.
“You should have told us,” Bruce said kindly when Steve had finished. “But I know you already know that. Let’s see what we can do for him.”
Helen was already bringing the cranial scanner over Bucky’s head. Bucky pulled weakly against his restraints as a soft cry escaped his lips. He babbled weakly, sounds instead of words. Like an infant.
“Wait.”
Steve retrieved Bucky’s bear, the other Steve, from the metal table with Bucky’s clothes and other belongings. He tucked it underneath Bucky’s right arm. Bucky quieted.
“Can I stay?” Steve asked the doctors.
“Please do,” Helen nodded. “You seem to make him calmer.”
Steve thought that had more to do with bear-Steve than himself, but he pulled a chair from the corner and sat at Bucky’s right side. He squeezed Bucky’s hand softly, intertwining their fingers.
“You’re doing so good, Buck,” he murmured. “So good.”
Bucky’s breathing slowed as the hum of the scanner kicked up. Bright lights shone into Bucky’s wide eyes as Helen and Bruce studied the readouts it was giving.
“There it is,” Helen said after about twenty minutes, pointing at the screen for Bruce’s benefit. “See?”
“That sneaky little bastard,” Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Look how it’s hiding in that scarring to the left of the amygdala. No wonder I missed it.”
“We missed it,” Helen corrected. “Now, let’s get rid of it.”
“Wait,” Steve said again. “Shouldn’t- ? Don’t you need his consent?”
Helen and Bruce looked at each other for a moment.
“Normally yes,” Bruce answered gently. “If the patient is of sound mind. But as long as this programming is in there, he’s not gonna be of sound mind, and it’s getting worse as we speak.”
Helen was nodding.
“We have to get it out before it does permanent damage to James’s brain,” she paused. “If it hasn’t already. Whatever reset Rumlow used, with the rest of his conditioning already eradicated, it really did a number on him.”
Steve looked at Bucky’s slack face. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t, but then he realized that he didn’t have to make this decision. The doctors were making it for him, and for Bucky, and as weak as it meant he was, he was overwhelmed by relief. It was out of his hands, and because of that, Bucky might be okay.
“You will have to leave for this part,” Bruce told him, snapping on a pair of latex gloves a second after Helen. “We’ll let you know when he’s out of the woods, okay Steve?”
Steve nodded as he gave Bucky’s hand a last squeeze.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he told Bucky, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Not that Bucky seemed able to hear or comprehend. “I’ll see you soon.”
Bruce ushered him out of the medbay. Steve stared at the door for a long time. Then he started pacing an agitated vigil in the hallway.
Fill: Berceuse (6/?)
“You should have told us,” Bruce said kindly when Steve had finished. “But I know you already know that. Let’s see what we can do for him.”
Helen was already bringing the cranial scanner over Bucky’s head. Bucky pulled weakly against his restraints as a soft cry escaped his lips. He babbled weakly, sounds instead of words. Like an infant.
“Wait.”
Steve retrieved Bucky’s bear, the other Steve, from the metal table with Bucky’s clothes and other belongings. He tucked it underneath Bucky’s right arm. Bucky quieted.
“Can I stay?” Steve asked the doctors.
“Please do,” Helen nodded. “You seem to make him calmer.”
Steve thought that had more to do with bear-Steve than himself, but he pulled a chair from the corner and sat at Bucky’s right side. He squeezed Bucky’s hand softly, intertwining their fingers.
“You’re doing so good, Buck,” he murmured. “So good.”
Bucky’s breathing slowed as the hum of the scanner kicked up. Bright lights shone into Bucky’s wide eyes as Helen and Bruce studied the readouts it was giving.
“There it is,” Helen said after about twenty minutes, pointing at the screen for Bruce’s benefit. “See?”
“That sneaky little bastard,” Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Look how it’s hiding in that scarring to the left of the amygdala. No wonder I missed it.”
“We missed it,” Helen corrected. “Now, let’s get rid of it.”
“Wait,” Steve said again. “Shouldn’t- ? Don’t you need his consent?”
Helen and Bruce looked at each other for a moment.
“Normally yes,” Bruce answered gently. “If the patient is of sound mind. But as long as this programming is in there, he’s not gonna be of sound mind, and it’s getting worse as we speak.”
Helen was nodding.
“We have to get it out before it does permanent damage to James’s brain,” she paused. “If it hasn’t already. Whatever reset Rumlow used, with the rest of his conditioning already eradicated, it really did a number on him.”
Steve looked at Bucky’s slack face. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t, but then he realized that he didn’t have to make this decision. The doctors were making it for him, and for Bucky, and as weak as it meant he was, he was overwhelmed by relief. It was out of his hands, and because of that, Bucky might be okay.
“You will have to leave for this part,” Bruce told him, snapping on a pair of latex gloves a second after Helen. “We’ll let you know when he’s out of the woods, okay Steve?”
Steve nodded as he gave Bucky’s hand a last squeeze.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he told Bucky, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Not that Bucky seemed able to hear or comprehend. “I’ll see you soon.”
Bruce ushered him out of the medbay. Steve stared at the door for a long time. Then he started pacing an agitated vigil in the hallway.