The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Seventy One: I Will Drown Out The Voices In Your Head

If there was one thing that Mara knew how to do, it was plan. She could plan her day, her patients' treatments, her conversations, hell, she'd had a plan for her life from the time she was seven. And when the plan failed, as plans always did, she had a backup ready to go. Because she planned for failures. That's how good she was at planning.

But she had absolutely no plan for how to help Bucky. Everything she had prepared for- from the difficult conversation about his triggers to how she'd ground him after a flashback- it had all screeched to a halt the moment he tried to throw her off of him. The moment he looked at her with so much hatred and fear that she literally felt her heart stop. There was no pre-made plan for a night like tonight. And to top it all off, her ability to improvise had vanished when her head hit the ground.

So now instead of planning she was triaging. Functioning based on immediate need and not future goals. First tier priority was to get Bucky somewhere safe. Which meant away from the roof with its ledge far too close for comfort, past the neighbors who had heard every scream, through the living room where something had made him snap, and into the kitchen. He went along with it, but his eyes were vacant and she could see him closing himself off from the world. However there was nothing she could do about that at the moment, and he wasn't going to die in the next five minutes from dissociation. Internal bleeding was a far more likely issue, and so the second tier priority was to get him to sit down and let her make sure he wasn't hurt. By some miracle she had the presence of mind to ask him if she could check his injuries before trying to get him to remove his shirt. He merely nodded his consent.

Maybe if she had been thinking clearly she would have at least coaxed him out of his mind as she examined his bloody palm and bruised torso. But thinking clearly was for people who weren't trying to hide concussion symptoms. And based on the ringing in her ears and the sensation of her bone marrow being replaced with lead, Mara was not one of those people.

"Is it okay if I- I treat your injuries?" she asked softly, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. He hummed his agreement, but did not look up at her. Instead his eyes were locked on his metal palm. She turned to get the red toolbox and caught herself on the countertop. Too fast. She had moved too fast. She glanced back to see if Bucky had noticed her stumble, but his eyes were unseeing. He was shutting down but at the moment all she could manage was dealing with his physical trauma, and so she took a steady breath and continued towards the toolbox.

"Okay," she exhaled, sitting down before him and setting the box on the table. "I don't think your other injuries are serious, but I have no clue what people leave on that roof. May I treat your cuts?"

He nodded, but when she took his hand he flinched.

"I'm sorry," she said as she let go. "I didn't mean to-"

He placed his hand palm up on the table and rested his head on his outstretched arm, watching her panic in front of him. Calm down. She had to calm down. If he saw how upset he was she'd never get him to stay.

"Just get it over with," he said flatly. She nodded and opened the toolbox, carefully pulling out everything she needed. She closed the box and almost set it on the ground before remembering the tweezers and grabbing them as well.

"Okay, this is definitely going to sting," she said, holding one of the alcohol swabs.

"I've had worse," he said in a tone she couldn't place.

"I know," she said solemnly. She patted at his skin, removing most of the blood and clearing her field. She could feel his eyes on her, feel him waiting for her to do something. To say something. To drag the truth out of him like a dead body from the woods. But she would not succumb. He would tell her when he was ready, just like he always had. And she would wait until that time came.