One Shots

Where Am I? (hurt/comfort ending)

Disclaimer: I am not trying to romanticize mental health issues, and I feel qualified to write about them because I suffer from similar issues as are portrayed in this one shot.

TW: Panic Attack, Blood

Steve's POV

As Tony opened the cell, I immediately ran to Bucky.

"Bucky!" I said excitedly as I reached for Bucky's wrists, which were now scratched raw.

Bucky pulled away, still looking disorientated and stressed. He mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," I said.

"Did I hurt anyone?" Bucky said as he looked up at me. I could clearly see that he was holding back tears.

I looked over at Peter, who was being bandaged up by Natasha. Then over at Bruce and Wanda, who both donned white bandages that were tinged with red. Then I looked at my own upper right arm, which had a bandage on it.

Bucky took the hint. He shuddered, "I-I did all that?" He started shaking and his breathing picked up.

"Buck, you're ok, that wasn't you that did that," I said, trying to calm him down.

"But I lost control, and the Wint- he hurt people I love," Bucky said, now crying.

"But you're back now, and everyone's going to be fine," I said.

"But what if they're not fine next time?" Bucky asked, distressed, "What if next time, I really hurt someone?"

I could see that he was anxiously spiraling now, and dangerously close to a panic attack. "Bucky, I need you to calm down," I said calmly but firmly.

    Bucky continued to hyperventilate and look around wildly.

He clearly wasn't calming down. "Could you all please leave and give us some space?" I asked.

Everyone obliged, understanding at least vaguely what was going on, and left the room.

Bucky's POV

After Steve asked everyone to leave, he helped me to a sitting position on the floor, which was nice, as I felt like I was about to pass out. I was still extremely anxious and on edge, but I knew Steve was trying to help, so I allowed him to touch my arm.

"Bucky," Steve said, "you're having a panic attack."

"No shit," I said, sarcasm creeping into my voice.

Steve smirked at my sarcastic remark and kneeled in front of me, his eye level just above mine. "Name five things you can see," he said, mirroring what my therapist had told me to do when I was feeling anxious.

"I see you, the first aid kit, Clint's bow, your helmet and a water bottle," I replied.

"Name four things you can feel," he continued.

"I can feel my metal arm, the floor, the wall, and your hand," I said, touching each thing as I named it.

"Good," Steve congratulated and continued, "name three things you can hear."

"Your voice, my voice, and the a/c."

"Two things you can smell?"

"Traces of sweat and," I struggled to find a second thing, "that air freshener that you insisted be put in here."

Steve lightly chuckled, "Now, one thing you can taste."

"Blood," I responded, as the Winter Soldier had bitten our tongue while he was thrashing about in the cell.

Steve looked slightly worried, then said, "Are you feeling better now?"

I was still anxious, and short of breath, but it was getting better. "Some"

Steve's POV

Bucky was clearly still anxious. "Would you like my jacket?" I asked, knowing that usually helped calm him down.

Bucky blushed, "Yes".

I gave him my jacket and he quickly pulled it on. I noticed that his breathing seemed to even out, and he seemed a little less on edge. I stood up, and then helped Bucky up. "Should we go out and check on the others?" I suggested.

"Sure," Bucky agreed.

    And then we walked, hand in hand, to where the others were. I smiled lightly as I thought about how happy I was to have my Bucky back.