Drive. ~James Buchanan Barnes

Chapter 4

He won't let me near him.

I tried to explain that I needed to check his bandages, but even that didn't convince him.

I also tried to explain that I'm the one who cleaned him up in the first place, but he still won't let me within five feet.

So now I'm sat here on my bed, watching him as he's curled over to see what he's doing, which is hurting him even more than the actual cleaning part is. I try to remember that he's probably overwhelmed, confused, and disoriented. Not to mention the fact that he is a soldier in more ways than one.

We haven't really spoken since our last conversation, other than him asking a few questions about if anyone saw him.

But now he's looking at me again, will he...? He will!

"We need to leave immediately." He says

I shake my head, "You need to rest."

"We can't stay in one place for long."

"We aren't staying long. Just long enough to stop the bleeding." I counter.

His gaze darkens, "Don't forget what I could do to you."

I meet his eyes, and harden my own, "I know exactly what you could do. But until I'm sure you aren't going to bleed out in the car... We. Are. Staying."

For a while, neither of us breaks eye contact, and I feel like I'm going to break first until he winces again.

"This isn't a good idea." He mutters. I'm sure he could continue arguing, but I'm betting he's too tired, and in too much pain to do so.

I soften my voice a little, "I only booked the room for two nights. I know we can't risk staying longer."

He doesn't look at me, but I can see the confusion cross his face. "You could have run."

"But I didn't." I mutter.

"Regret it?"

"We'll see."

I continue to watch him fumbling with his dressing until I can't stand it anymore.

Last try. "Okay... look. I'm not gonna attack you or stab you with a needle or anything. It would just be a lot easier and less painful if you'd let me do that."

He says nothing, getting increasingly frustrated with the bandages.

"Soldier..." I begin, failing to catch his attention.  Then an idea comes to mind, and it could go well, or it could get me killed. 

"...Bucky." I say more firmly.

He freezes.

"Let me help you."

When he stays still in his position, I slowly walk around to his bed and sit on the edge. 

I gently put my hand on his chest, and I'm startled when his metal hand engulfs my wrist.  His head snaps up and I meet his eyes. 

I do not blink.

Neither does he.

I begin to push slightly, my hand on his chest, his hand on mine, our eyes on each-other.  Slowly, I feel him reclining.  His face contorts slightly at the movement, but I grab a pillow with my freehand and place it under his lower back for support as his shoulders meet the headboard. 

I pull my hand back and he lets me, releasing it from his grasp.  He's still watching me though.  He's wary.  I suppose I would be too.

I examine his work.  It certainly isn't great.

I shift the gauze and clean up the smeared blood that surrounds it, then I grab the cloth bandages.

"Sit up a little." I say quietly, and he does.

When I finish wrapping the bandages I take another risk and tug on the end of his shirt.  He pushes my hand away and removes it himself.  I didn't see a laundry, so the sink will have to do.

Some of his blood got on my top as well, so I grab a tank top I was going to bring to my parents' house and bring it with me to the bathroom to change into. 

I start running warm water and retrieve the bottle of peroxide from the first-aid kit. 

The blood comes out fairly easily from my blouse, since it's fresher, but I'm still scrubbing his shirt when I notice movement in the mirror.

I turn to look at him as he stands behind me, supporting himself on the doorframe.

"I can wash shirts by myself, you know."

He shrugs, saying nothing.

I roll my eyes and return to my task, "You shouldn't be up."

He's silent for a moment, "You shouldn't call me that."

"Bucky?" I question.

"Yes."

"Alright," I say, "So what do I call you."

I wait for an answer.

And wait some more.

But as I raise my head and watch his reflection in the mirror I know.

He doesn't have an answer.