•{Condemned}• 2

{17}•Waiting Game•

                          [17] •Waiting Game•

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BUCKY SITS on the edge of the bench, his head placed in his hands, his expression engraved with anxiety.

Steve stands leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, his concerned blue eyes staring blankly at the floor.

Both guilt ridden.

Neither express it, but mutually understand it. They had become distracted. They had played into his hands. They had allowed him to hurt her. They had allowed her to be traumatised.

"She'll be OK," Steve murmurs monotonously.

Bucky's head raises from his hands, his eyes troubled, his face pale with worry. "Physically, maybe."

His voice is quiet, like speech is a strain. Steve knows he's right. But the words don't hurt any less. Bucky closes his eyes. "This is my fault. I should have been looking out for her."

"So should I."

He blinks, holding his best friend's gaze for a moment. "It's our fault," he compromises.

Steve inclines his head, breathing a small sigh before he ambles over to the window, his gaze dancing over the Wakandan city beneath them. A few moments pass by before he catches sight of his friend standing, leaning his hands on the table in the reflection.

"I shouldn't have left her."

"You did what you thought was best for her, Buck. You gave her a shot at a normal life," he rubs a gloved hand over his chin. "She was happy. For a while at least."

Bucky doesn't have a response, his mind whirring too loudly with thoughts and possible outcomes. He wouldn't survive another death on his hands, especially not her. "She helped me, Steve. When we were there. She told me my name. She told me about you."

Steve steps over to him, standing beside him and resting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Both their heads snap up when Shuri enters. She offers them a small smile of reassurance.

"I've given her a sedative and medication, should take away the pain for now. She will still be sore when she wakes up, but it will be manageable. She's severely malnourished and dehydrated, a few wounds left untreated here and there, but she should be fine," she explains.

Bucky releases a heavy exhale of relief, his body visibly relaxing. However, when his gaze returns to Shuri's solemn expression he pauses. "What else?"

The princess chews at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "The human brain was not meant to withstand that trauma, it should have killed her. I don't think she will be left unaffected."

"What do you mean?" Steve cuts across Bucky's question.

"I mean," the princess tilts her head. "She suffered a major brain trauma. Although, I do think her powers, even through the restraint did their best to shield her body, as I said she is human. Meaning, she may have the same symptoms as anyone else who suffered TBI. Both physical and physiological symptoms."

"Long term effects?" Bucky asks hoarsely after a pause.

"Possibly. Though, as I said, her powers did attempt to protect her as best they could, so they could go onto heal her where a regular human would not."

"What kind of symptoms?" Steve wonders quietly.

"Severe fatigue, dizziness, loss of consciousness, severe confusion or mood swings, repeated vomiting, sleep irregularity, persistent head aches, loss of consciousness, loss of coordination, slurred speech, sensory problems or seizures. Most of those are worst case scenarios."

Bucky collapses onto the bench behind him, his eyes wide and dazed. Steve ignores his friend's state, "You can fix her?"

Shuri's forehead creases. "I can do my best to help, but I am not a brain specialist. Most of these symptoms have to disappear themselves if they are to go at all. There's not a lot anyone can do. But," she adds pointedly, "She may wake up without any."

"She was fine on the jet," Bucky mentions, taking his fingers through his hair.

"They may not set in until she wakes, or even a few days later."

Shuri stands awkwardly before the two men, shock and grief plastered across their expressions. She presses her lips in a line, dropping her head slightly before she makes her way out again. "I'll let you know when she's awake."

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For four hours the pair sat in complete silence, unsure of what there was to say. Elena hadn't woken up and Shuri hadn't returned. T'Challa had arrived, offering them food and a drink, which they thanked him for, but couldn't stomach.

"How is she?"

Steve looks up to see Sam and Natasha. He shakes his head. "Hasn't woken up yet," he murmurs quietly.

Bucky glances up from the ground as something nudges his clasped hands. A large dog sits patiently in front of him, staring at him intently. "This is JB," he raises an eyebrow.

Natasha returns his statement with a small nod, lowering herself down across from him. Her stomach is twisted unnaturally with nerves. She isn't used to being in a vulnerable position. "She's crazy about that dog," she smiles slightly.

Slowly, Bucky runs a hand over JB's head, scratching him lightly behind his ear. Nat watches him carefully, feeling for him. "She found him the day after you left in an alley," she continues.

Bucky's head inclines slightly, the only response that he can actually hear her. Still, the distraction from the current situation is welcomed. "So she called him after you," she finishes softly.

He risks a glance up to meet Natasha's soft gaze. He blinks, looking back to the dog.

JB

James Buchanan Barnes.

His jaw clenches slightly. The dog groans, sliding into a lying position at his feet. Bucky leans back against the wall, his brows pulling together in concern and guilt.

And fear.

That maybe his Elena wouldn't be OK.

And maybe this wouldn't have happened if he had looked out for her during the fight.

Maybe this wouldn't have happened if the Winter Soldier didn't kill Stark's parents.

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