Ready Set Breathe (A Steve Rogers Destruction Story)

56 Beginning

No one wanted to tell Steve that it was Bucky in the hospital, having a bullet dug out of his heart, because Steve was supposed to rest and relax and not think anymore about death, but who could keep a secret from him in the first place? Given that walking was painful still and Steve groaned in pain to even sit up, Natasha and Sam made him swear that he’d stay put.

Steve was a whirlwind of questions.

“Is he okay? What even happened? Who was shooting at him? Is it too deep? He’ll heal in a few days, right? Ask him for me, I think he can estimate? He doesn’t like hospitals, get him back soon, make sure he’s not miserable,” Steve was saying and Natasha rolled her eyes to Sam.

“We’re making him as comfortable as possible,” Natasha said.

“Is he alone right now?” Steve asked. “You can’t leave him alone, not in a hospital.” Sam avoided Steve’s eyes then, and then shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

“He’s not alone,” he said. “Sharon’s there.” There was a silence.

“Sharon hates Bucky,” Steve said and Sam shrugged.

“She’s not left his side,” he said. “She refuses.”

“That makes no sense,” Steve replied.

“He took a bullet for her, Steve,” Natasha said and she turned and sat on Steve’s bed next to him. “He saved her.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Sharon sat by Bucky’s bed, leaning over her folded legs and staring at her phone to pass time. Bucky felt dull pain in his chest as he came back into consciousness, and he opened his eyes slowly and frowned to find himself in a hospital.

“Where’s Steve,” Bucky muttered and Sharon looked up and over and pressed her mouth together.

“Just me right now,” she said quietly. “Steve’s still hurt, remember? He can’t get up, but he’d want to be here, Bucky.” Bucky looked her up and down.

“Why are you here?” He asked and Sharon gave him a withering look.

“You saved my life,” she said and then she looked away and her eyes softened a little. “I’m not a complete asshole, Barnes.”

“Well…,” Bucky replied quietly. “Thanks.”

Bucky inspected the damage and found himself again with only a scarred metal socket on his left and a patch of gauze over a spot of intense, concentrated pain in his chest and when he peeled it up, he found red skin and stitches.

“Where’s my arm,” Bucky said and he was grateful that Sharon sat on his right and he didn’t have to see her stare at the disfiguration.

“Your girlfriend has it,” she replied and looked back up at him. “It was pretty torn apart.” Then, “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean,” Bucky said tiredly.

“How did you lose it?” Sharon asked and Bucky looked over at her and sighed.

“The war,” he said. “It got ripped off when I fell into a ravine.”

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said and Bucky just nodded and shrugged his one shoulder.

“It happens in wars,” he said. “I can live with it.”

Hours passed and Sharon came and went and Bucky laid there and stared at the ceiling and hated hospitals until finally once, when Sharon was back, Bucky looked over at her in the silence and gathered up the courage to say something that had been on his mind.

“I’m sorry about Neal, Sharon,” Bucky said and his voice was a whisper. “Truly, I am.” He watched Sharon take a deep breath in and let it out. The tension in the air changed. Sharon folded her arms around her body tightly. Bucky didn’t think she’d expected it to be brought up again. There was another long pause and Bucky waited in it.

“Did you make him suffer?” She asked quietly and Bucky felt the stab of accusation in her words. Part of him wanted to defend himself, remind her that she didn’t understand, tell her how long it took to learn not to blame himself, how he still struggled, how it wasn’t his fault-it was Hydra’s. But he swallowed back the words that would have made him feel better and tried to answer her question.

“It was clean,” he admitted. “Fast. He wouldn’t have felt a thing, didn’t even see it coming.” Sharon swallowed loudly and let out a breath and she stood and then sat back down and turned away from him, staring at the wall. Bucky wished he had more to say, more to tell her, words to make it better.

And it was still hard not to blame himself. Looking at the way Sharon’s shoulders shook, seeing first hand the way the things he was forced to do affected people, it made him ache. It made him hate. He had no other words.

“You may have saved my life, but I think you’re a monster,” Sharon whispered and then she stood and looked down at him, red eyes and arms wrapped around herself tightly, and began to walk towards the door. There wasn’t any anger in her eyes then, or resentment. Only sadness and fear and Bucky felt her words resonate with the same accusations he made against himself in his head and felt ill.

“Wait,” he said quietly and sat forward, reaching out with the only hand he had. “Wait, please.” Sharon stopped and turned and was staring at him expectantly and Bucky tried to breathe.

“Look,” he said. “Look, I… Thought I didn’t owe you anything. And maybe I don’t owe you everything, Natalia says I shouldn’t have to defend myself at every turn, and I don’t want to, but Sharon… I think I owe you at least this. An explanation.” He gestured back towards the chair she had been sitting and he looked at her with desperate eyes. “Would you just let me explain?”

Sharon studied his face, then back to where he was gesturing with open arms back to the chairs, and finally seemed to judge him trustworthy enough. With a suspicious glare, Sharon followed Bucky’s pointing back to her seat, holding back tears, and sat back down. There was a pause and Sharon stared at Bucky and she looked scared.

“What are you going to tell me?” She whispered and Bucky swallowed.

“Is it okay if I start at the beginning?” He asked.