Bee to my Barnes

Part 70

‘There have been extensive damage to the left lateral section of his sagittal plane. The impact of the collision has caused inferior damage to the anterior of his brachium and when we attempted to remove the shrapnel it had shredded the brachial artery. We tried everything we could to save the membrum but we were unsuccessful.’ Dr Stranger’s tone was cold and hard as he tried to explain the extent of James injuries.

Unable to understand all the medical terms just hearing the word unsuccessful your surroundings fall silent as the deafening pulse of your heart rushed through your veins. A sudden coldness spread through your body numbing all of your senses as it took control, Jade’s arms wrapped around you as the conversation became in inaudible hum.

Your voice shaking as you softy spoke. ‘Can I see him?’

With a slight nod the doctor explained how he will be in a medical endused sleep for a while to aid his recovery. ‘It may be quite traumatic to see him at the moment so I must advise you brace yourself and remain calm and quiet as not to cause a disturbance.'

Following Dr Strange down a long white corridors your hand griped tightly onto both Jade and Steve’s.

Pausing just outside the room, the monotonous beeping of the machines rang through the air. ‘Before you see him. I did wasn’t to ask if you would consider an experimental approach to his recovery. There is a new prototype for a bionic limb and if we could get approval from both the medical board and company I feel Mr Barnes would be an ideal candidate and this could restore his quality of life.’ Dr Strange tried to explain the benefits further as time was really of essence if he was to be successful.

Leaving Steve to converse on your behalf you floated towards the frail shell of Bucky lay out across the bed. Your hand began shaking as you reach out to touch him, only to be greeted by the firm mattress where his arm should be. Your voice breaks through your sobs, ‘Buck..Bucky.’

Steve rested his hand across your back. ‘Beatrix, it’s us. It’s our prototype. I'm going to call Tony and have them do whatever they can to help. I just need you say so.’ His eyes glistening under his own threatening tears, unable to muster the words you just nod.

Listening to the hustle and bustle happening around you, doctors and nurses flow in and out the room making notes and adjusting medicine. Your frozen, your eyes fixated on watching the machine push air in and out of James' chest as you remain curled in the chair besides him, too scared to close you eyes the sun rises and falls as the days pass by.

Picking at the edges of the chair you begin to quietly talk, you tell James all about the baby, how you planned on telling him at the party.

Drifting off into your imagination as you gently stroked his right hand tracing over the skin between the many wires, you spoke about how if you had a little boy he could play cowboys and Indians, take him to football matches and have cute matching Armani suits.

If it was a girl she would wear the frilliest dresses and a different bow for every day, you couldn’t wait to take her to ballet classes and she would dance for him as she would be the sweetest daddies girl that ever existed.

‘You just need to wake up Buck, we can have it all. I just can’t do this without you.’

As you sat there, your heart pining for the man lay before you, Dr Strange returns with Happy and Peter in tow. Wiping your face as not to cause distress your tired eyes wander over to them, ‘Happy, Peter.’

Rushing over to you, standing to receive there tight embrace. ‘Miss Miller, I’m so sorry.’

Letting a pathetic smile creep over your face as you brush Peter's floppy hair from his face, ‘Thanks for coming. He is still asleep at the moment.’

Jumping at the loud clank of the brakes on the bed, the nurses enter the room and Dr Strange confirms they have cleared the use of the bionic arm and will be prepping James for surgery.  Stunned at the fast pace of all the movement, you watch as they wheel him out of the room. Unable stop the tears from returning, Peter and Happy hold you close. Pulling his head back with a slight grimace, Peter mutters, ‘Miss Miller. I brought you some clean clothes and food.’

Ruffling his hair you let out a small laugh, ‘smell that bad eh?’

Allowing the hospital shower to flow it's warm ripple over your skin, it gives you the permission you needed to unfold beneath it’s gentle massages. Taking the moment you needed to privately process the immense pain in your heart, you let out a large breath before turning off the faucet.

Dabbing the moisture from your hair on one of the towels, the fresh clothes brush softly against your skin. Settling down on the sofa the heaviness of your eyes is uncontrollable, slipping into a light sleep Happy pulls a blanket over you as you all sit anticipated for any news.