Marjorie's POV
Marjorie slowly drifted awake to an unfamiliar setting and a head that felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
"WhereamI?" she slurred, sitting up with alarm. Or, at least, tried to—she wobbled and fell back down.
"Careful," warned Bucky. "I think you still have the drug in your system; your pupils are still dilated."
"Bucky?" Marjorie reached for his face but missed. He picked up her hand and held it to the side of his face.
The room was slowly coming into focus. "Why are we at my dorm?" she recognized.
"Erik wanted to bring you here, to XSGY," he explained. "You fell asleep on the plane, whatever they gave you really did a number on you. What do you remember?"
Marjorie frowned and tried to sort through blurry memories. She got a flash of a dark room and someone holding a cloth to her face, and a glimpse of a brighter room with four people standing around her wearing lab coats.
"I remember being taken, and a bit of a brighter room... but everything's all fuzzy and I–" her voice broke "–I can't—I don't know—I—"
"Hey, stop," interrupted Bucky in a soothing tone, "it's okay, I'm here. The memories will come back once your brain processes the ordeal and the drugs are out of your system. It's going to be okay, I'm here."
Marjorie relaxed while he kept repeating "I'm here" and "I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Is everyone else here?" she asked, looking around the room like she expected an audience. Vaguely, Marjorie noted that the drug they had given her really did do a number on her, physically and mentally. She had always been a lightweight.
"No, Doll," he said patiently. "Everyone's okay, but the rest of the Avengers are at one of Nat's safe houses. Erik took us here separately."
"Erik?"
"He helped rescue you, remember?"
Marjorie thought back to the brighter room, and slowly recalled Erik kneeling next to her. He had asked her if she was okay... "I remember now. Erik let you stay?"
He tilted his head to the side in a gesture of so-so-ness. "Wade stepped in, and Xavier said I could after reading my mind."
Marjorie wrinkled her brow. "Professor Xavier?"
"Yes, Doll. I'll tell you the whole story when you're sober." Bucky flattened the worry line on her forehead with his thumb and Marjorie relaxed into the gentle touch.
"Bucky?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I have help to sit up?"
"Yes, of course, Doll." He gently guided her into an upright position. "Do you need anything else? What can I do?"
"Do you know what they did to me?"
"No." Marjorie heard the sadness leaking into his voice even in her drugged state. "But Steve didn't mention you ever being away from the group. Though, he was only conscious part of the time."
Marjorie thought about that, and cringed away when her imagination filled with doctors holding scalpels and strapping her down to an operation table. "Bucky?"
"Yes, Doll?"
"I want to take a shower," she requested. She needed to feel clean; she could still smell the sharp chemicals scent of the doctors and their drugs.
He hesitated. "Um, are you sure you want me to help you with that?"
Marjorie didn't understand him; why would anyone else help her? "No one else can. And I would like a shower, so, yeah?"
Bucky fidgeted uncomfortably. "What do you mean by 'no one else can?'"
"I don't trust or have a close enough relationship with anyone else."
He sighed. "You're still drugged. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you and let you agree to something you normally wouldn't."
She was still confused by his line of reasoning. "Then don't take advantage of me? Showering together doesn't always equate to sex."
"'Then don't.'" He laughed sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that?"
"It's fine if you don't want to," she muttered. "Just forget it."
"No, I'm sorry," Bucky said. "I want to help you if you need it."
She nodded, and Bucky picked her up and carried her to her old bathroom. He tested the counter to make sure it would hold her weight before sliding her on top of the surface and cautiously leaning her against the mirror behind her so she wouldn't fall.
After gathering supplies (towels, clothes, etc.) from her still unpacked backpack, Bucky paused uncertainty. "Um, are you sure that you don't mind me helping?"
"I'm sure. If it makes you feel better," she suggested, "I promise to not look."
He rolled his eyes. "Thanks, I think?"
Bucky systematically undressed both of them; trying not to touch her bare skin more than necessary. He kept the task professional and his eyes glued to hers. Marjorie tried very hard not to let her eyes flow down his body. Bucky also took off a bandage Marjorie hadn't noticed before from his wrist, and it took her an embarrassingly long time to figure out it was so it wouldn't get wet.
They were both undressed rather quickly—with a small interruption when Bucky couldn't figure out how to unclasp her bra (he eventually solved it)—and Bucky turned on the water, waiting for it to warm up before half-carrying her in.
He held her up by her waist with her back to him, keeping a few careful inches in between their bodies. The water relaxed her muscles. "Do you want me to wash you hair?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered, hit with a sudden emotion of shyness. Marjorie was surprised by the sudden recognition that her body was in a completely vulnerable and prone position, and further surprised by the realization that she didn't mind and was comforted by it.
His metal arm remained holding her up by the waist, and his right fingers combed soap through her hair. His touch was very delicate and therapeutic.
Marjorie used the safe and warm feeling as a shield while she tried to sort through the blurred memories. It was easier to pretend they were just images and not something that actually happened to her here, safe in his arms.
"Bucky?" she asked after a minute.
He paused. "Yes, Doll?"
"They took my blood." It was difficult to tell if she was crying, or if her cheeks were wet from the shower.
"I know," muttered Bucky, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing way. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to stop them."
"It's not your fault."
He didn't respond with an agreement, and instead announced: "I finished your hair."
"Okay," she said reluctantly. Marjorie wasn't quite ready to leave the safe and warm feeling.
Sensing this, Bucky asked, "Do you want me to wash the rest of you, too?"
She nodded. Bucky turned her around and slid her arms around his shoulders. "Is this okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." Marjorie dropped her head onto his shoulder and let him scrub soap on her, gently massaging her back. She focused on keeping her muscles loose and relaxed, and tried to unclench her stomach.
She made a surprised squeak when he moved on to her right leg and slightly picked it up off the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Bucky rapidly, biting his lip and setting her leg back down. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I was trying to reach your leg better, but I should have asked for permission. I'm sorry, are you okay?"
Marjorie hid her flushing cheeks in his shoulder. "I'm fine, you just startled me. You can have my leg back if you want; I don't mind."
"Oh, are you sure?"
"Yes."
He continued and Marjorie refocused on unclenching her stomach; the way he was holding her made it slightly harder to do. The clenching wasn't a bad feeling, per se, but now wasn't the time or place.
The rest of the shower went with incident. Bucky always asked permission before moving her or touching her, and he gently massaged every muscle in her body (with a few exceptions in more sensitive areas) until she was completely limp and relaxed. He carried her out and wrapped a towel around her shoulders and another around his hips.
"Bucky?" she asked while he dried both of them off.
"Yes?"
"Here was where I... first got my healing power." She wasn't sure why she was even thinking of it, or why she told him.
Bucky froze. "Here?"
She nodded.
"Are you having a flashback? Do you need to leave this room? Should I ask Erik to change your dorm?"
"No," blinked Marjorie, slowly processing his questions. "I don't think I'm having a flashback. We can stay, and I like my dorm. It's near the twins', so we have the same common room. And I don't have a roommate."
"Oh." He calmed down, asking, "Why don't you have a roommate?"
She snuggled into his chest while he traced patterns on her back through the towel. "Cause I'm bi."
"That makes sense."
"Hmm," she agreed.
"Who are the twins?"
"Rei—you met them already, they're the fire elemental with colorful hair—and Riku. She's nice. I'm taller than her," added Marjorie as an afterthought.
"Wow, really? But you're so tiny," he teased. "Are you cold?"
She frowned, she hadn't noticed until now that she was shivering.
"Let's get you dressed," suggested Bucky. He pulled a pajama top over her head, and helped her step into underwear and then pants. Bucky threw on pajama bottoms himself, not bothering to find a shirt.
"What happened to your wrist?" asked Marjorie after they were both dressed.
"I took out the tracker Tony put there."
Marjorie pulled his hand into her lap and examined the small incision across the inside of his right wrist. "Do you want me to heal it?" At his nod she gently touched the cut, ordering her shadow vapor to erase it.
After he was healed, Bucky picked her up bridal-style and carried her back to her bed. "Do you want me to braid your hair? I know you have trouble sleeping with it down."
She nodded, and was able to keep herself upright while he dug in her backpack for her hairbrush. "How does this thing even work?" he growled to himself after pulling out several other random items: two books, a sketchbook, and a dagger.
"Try visualizing it," she suggested.
Bucky pulled out her hairbrush with a triumphant smile and put the wrong items back. "Can I have a lengthier explanation later? Also, are you feeling more sober?"
"Later," agreed Marjorie. "I'm feeling less blurry, but still very tired."
"Alright, you'll go to bed after I finish your hair, then. If that's fine with you, Doll."
"Acceptable," she nodded.
After he finished her hair, he helped her into the covers. Marjorie curled into a ball on her right side, and Bucky pulled her back into his chest and wrapped one of his arms (metal) protectively around her, pillowing her head with the other (flesh).
He kissed her left shoulder. "Goodnight, Doll. I love you."
Marjorie drifted off to sleep before she could say it back.