Bucky began to wake up and regain his senses. There were aggravated beeping noises in Bucky's right ear, a chemical disinfectant smell hanging around him. His eyes were closed, and he was not entirely sure where he was. He could just barely make out Steve's voice somewhere to his left saying "Is he gonna be alright?" He blinked his eyes open, squinting in the angry fluorescent lights. He hurt all over.
"What happened..." He mumbled to know one in particular. Was he in a... hospital? Steve turned immediately and, seeing Bucky's eyes open, he rushed over to the side of Bucky's bed in under a second.
"Bucky!" He said, breathless, the area surrounding his eyes a deep blackish purple color. There was a healing cut on his cheek. From what? His eyes were beet red. He looked dreadful.
"Steve..." Bucky said, so tired. "Steve, what happened?" He asked. Why was he lying in a hospital bed? The last he could remember he'd been kissing Steve in a park at night. This was a far cry from that.
"Bucky. Oh my god, you're okay. I was so worried." Steve was pushing Bucky's hair back out of his face, full of emotion. Bucky had no idea what was going on.
"Really, Steve, what happened? Why are we in a hospital?" Bucky was disoriented, the cot beneath him stiff as a rock. It hurt to move, to talk, but he needed to know what was going on.
"Don't you remember?" Steve asked, blinking back tears. Bucky shook his head, ever so slightly. "Oh, Buck..." Steve tried to say what had happened. It was hard for him to form the words. "We were... we were in a park. Uh, and, we, uh... well, we were attacked." Steve winced at the words. They sounded bad. They were bad. It had been bad. Four men yelling slurs in the dead of night. "You- you got pushed into the street, then hit by a car. I-" Steve stopped for a minute, a single tear breaking past his fortress, "I couldn't get to you in time."
"Steve..." Bucky said, trying to reach out to comfort him. But he couldn't reach Steve. He couldn't reach out his arm. He had no arm. He had no arm. WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS ARM? Steve saw Bucky's eyes widen at the realization. There wasn't even a stub on his shoulder. It was just... gone. "Steve...?" Bucky sounded scared. Steve knew Bucky well, and he knew that Bucky was barely containing his terror. He was beginning to lose it. He looked like a wounded puppy, and Steve couldn't stand it. Bucky shouldn't have that look in his eyes. It felt wrong to Steve that this could have happened. He'd let it happen.
"Hey, hey. Bucky. Look at me: you're awake now. You're alive. I was worried you wouldn't be. I'm right here. I promise, swear on everything I have, that you're gonna be alright. Okay?" Steve tried to reassure his boyfriend. He stroked Bucky's forehead with his thumb.
"Steve. My arm is not there." It was clear in Bucky's voice that he did not think everything was going to be alright in the slightest.
"You got run over by a truck, Bucky. I'm just glad you're alive right now." Steve said, cradling Bucky's head with his hand. "I love you. You know that, right?" Bucky nodded. They both had tears running down their faces as the doctors suddenly swarmed the room. Neither had any idea what was going to happen next. Both were more terrified than they'd ever been before.