You Will Remember Me

Tony the Mechanic

BB

For the rest of the quinjet ride home, Bucky remained in the same spot, resting his eyes. The others left him alone; Clint and Steve occasionally traded spots in the pilot's seat while Tony kept Bruce calm by chatting with him. It didn't seem like too much time had passed before they arrived back at the Tower.

"Give me an hour or so to get stuff ready and we can start working on your arm." Tony promised as he and Bucky stepped off the jet.

"An hour? Don't you wanna relax a little?" Steve asked behind him.

"All I wanna do is get back to my toy room and play, Capsicle." Tony replied without looking back.

"How long were you in captivity, anyway?" Steve wondered. They all began filing into the elevator, sans Clint who was taking the jet down to the storage unit.

"Right after Tony called you, they hijacked the plane." Bruce answered. It was the first time Bucky had actually heard him talk.

"Don't worry about me, Spangles." Tony said, patting Steve on the shoulder when they got to his and Bucky's floor. "I'll have Terminator here fixed up by dinner."

"I can live without it for a while. You don't have to fix it right away." Bucky said honestly. Stark wasn't looking too good: his hair was a mess, his suit dirty, eyes sunken in with dark circles beneath them. Bucky was all too familiar with that same look, except he mostly saw it when he looked in the mirror.

"Like I said; don't worry about it." Tony insisted, fitting in a wink before the elevator doors closed.

Bucky slowly turned and tried to unbuckle his armor with one hand, but found it hard to do with his limp metal one in the way.

"Here," Steve said after removing the shield from his back and sitting it against the couch. He helped Bucky unbuckle the outer shell and slide it off, leaving the black undershirt.

"Thanks." Bucky replied. Steve grinned in response.

"I think I'm gonna go get cleaned up." The brunet said, noticing his sweat-stained shirt and the dirt on the exposed flesh of his arm.

"I'll get you some other clothes." Steve said. Bucky tossed his armor on his bed while Steve got him his new clothes.

"I'm putting them on the counter in the bathroom." Steve called from the hall.

Bucky paused in front of his mirror, looking at the damaged metal arm. A good portion a little smaller than a softball was blackened and eroded, exposing the damaged inner workings.

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky said, still examining the arm.

"Yeah?"

"You have something to cover my arm with?" Bucky asked. "At least the damaged part?"

"Yeah, let me get the plastic wrap." Steve replied. Bucky removed his shirt so he wouldn't have to struggle with getting it off over the plastic wrap. He also removed the dog tags he had forgotten he was wearing and carefully sat them on the drawer.

He met Steve in the kitchen where Steve pulled a long rectangular box out of a drawer. He opened the lid and pulled out a sheet of clear plastic. Bucky lifted his metal arm onto the kitchen counter and pulled his body away so Steve could better get beneath it to wrap it.

Once there was a sufficient layer of cellophane over the damaged part of his arm, Bucky thanked Steve again and headed to the bathroom where he stripped and showered, careful to avoid getting water on his cybernetic prosthetic. When he looked at himself in the mirror, this time he saw a little more of the old Bucky. He smiled, a genuine, toothy smile. He was a little less broken than yesterday, now that he had his best friend to put the pieces back together. However, there was still the small amount of deadness in his ice-blue eyes, though that would probably always be there. A constant reminder of what he had been through. Of course, there was also a pretty big reminder as well; his entire left arm.