The Soldier and the Wolf

Chapter 35

         "There, all cleaned." I threw a red-stained cotton ball into the pile with the other cloths, gauzes, and cotton balls I used to clean up Bucky's face. I found a first aid kit stored in the side of Quinjet not long before Steve took off from the prison, so I spent the last half an hour or so cleaning off Bucky's face. I went through two water bottles, the entire supply of cottons pads and several gauzes until Bucky's face was blood-free. He sat very still the entire time and watched me as I cleaned his face. He watched as I soaked each pad with water and he closed his eyes as I gently rubbed off the dried blood, and soon enough I could see what damage was. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. The nosebleed must've been the main cause of all the blood, but a gash just above the bridge of his nose as well as a bigger cut that ran from the top of his cheekbone to the bottom of it contributed to the large amount of blood as well.

        The wound on his nose was already scabbed over, but for his cheek, I used some hydrogen peroxide and a needle and thread I found in the first aid kit to stitch up the flesh wound on his cheek just to be safe. Underneath his left eye was also a bit bruised, but besides that, he went from looking like he got destroyed in a boxing match to looking like he got involved in a small fight in an alleyway in no time.

        I was cleaning up the mess, and I'm my peripheral vision, I could see Bucky watching me. I gathered up the bloody cotton balls and packed up the first aid kit. I disposed of the trash and stored the first aid kit back where I found it. I paused for a moment, keeping my back towards Bucky. I closed my eyes and recollected my thoughts. Bucky isn't talking to me. This little reunion wasn't what I imagined at all. I didn't even get to apologize for the way I acted the other day, and now he probably hates me for trying to tell him who he that wasn't place. It seemed like a good thing to do in the moment, telling him something he needed to hear, but maybe it was too much at once. I took hands off the first aid kit, which I was still holding onto for some reason, and I turned around. As soon as I did, Bucky looked down and away from me. Great, he won't even look at me. I rubbed my elbow and walked up to him. He continued to keep his gaze on the floor of the Quinjet.

      "Bucky." I started, but I lost my words. What do I say. "I'm..." I stuttered. "I'm sorry about how I acted earlier...at the airport, and well...not too long ago as well. At the airport, I thought you didn't trust me or think I was ready when really you were trying to protect me from....well from this." I pointed at the thick, metal shock collar that was still on my neck. "And that whole rant...I shouldn't have brought that up. I just thought that you needed to hear that everything can be forgiven at some point and time, and I thought telling you my experience with you for the past two years would help you realize...well I don't know, actually. I just hoped it would make you realize anything that would be somewhat positive. But it wasn't my place, and you've been through enough shit already, you don't need me to tell you something obvious." I could tell that Bucky was listening to me, but he showed no sign of accepting my weak apology or just acknowledging I was there. I nodded, accepting my fate. "Alright, then. Just get some rest." I left Bucky in the back of the Quinjet and joined Steve in the pilot chairs. I sat down and rested my elbow on the arm rest and used my palm as a headrest. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing down, hoping it would calm me down.

       "Hey, you okay?" Steve's voice caught me by surprise, and I looked up to see that he was looking at me while having both hands on the wheel or controls or whatever.

        "What?" I said tiredly. It took a moment for me to comprehend what he said, but when it finally went through, so nodded. "Oh...yeah...I'm fine." It was quiet for a few seconds.

         "Where did you learn to stitch up a wound?" Steve asked me.

         "Oh, ummm, I was training to become a surgeon. Stitching up small wounds like that was one of the basics." I answered, keeping my eyes forward. We were no longer the ocean, and vast fields of grain and dead grass passed underneath us.