Monster

Twelve

Bucky returned a few days later as promised. He'd left quickly the last time, but luckily he actually followed through. This time, I walked into the kitchen after walking Steve out and found him already seated at the kitchen table. His jacket was off, and he was picking at the stitches on his arm. The brace was still on his wrist, and his long legs were stretched out comfortably. He looked almost relaxed yet positioned in a way that would allow him to spring upright if he needed to. His dirty hair was stuffed under the cap, but it looked like he'd at least tried to brush it out with his fingers.

"Jesus, you scared me," I said, clutching my pounding heart. He looked up and didn't answer for a moment. Then something seemed to click, and he realized he was supposed to respond.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to hear him kiss you." He turned back to his stitches and stuck his arm out. "I think they're infected."

"According to Steve, that's impossible." I pulled a chair to his side and took his hand into my lap. "Steve told me you can't get infections. It's probably just irritated from never being cleaned. When was the last time you took a shower?" I looked up and never got a response. That explained a lot. I went back to the stitches.

"I'll go ahead and cut them out, and then you can shower. I have something I can put on it to keep the dirt out. It should help with the irritation too. When was the last time you ate something real?" He didn't have an answer for that either. I let out a slow breath. "I'll make you something to eat while you shower. How does that sound?"

He still gave no answer, but I didn't think he'd been offered any of those things in a while. Hydra probably only fed him and bathed him out of necessity. From what Steve told me, it was like they didn't even view Bucky as human. So he probably hadn't eaten anything beyond basic nutritional needs.

I went to find supplies and returned to the seat beside him.

"They might pull a bit, but it won't hurt as bad as they did going in, okay?" I warned him. He nodded and watched me get to work. Within a few minutes, the sutures were out, and I ran my fingers over the scarring, scabbed skin. "I think this will heal nicely. It might leave a scar for a time, but—Steve said they heal quickly too. How did it happen exactly? You only ever gave me vague answers." He seemed to have grown more comfortable since the last time I saw him. He was already watching me with narrowed eyes.

"They cornered me in an alley and demanded money. I didn't have any. They had a knife," he explained.

"But you didn't kill them?"

"No."

"You didn't mess them up too bad, did you?" He studied my mouth, curved up just slightly at the start of an easy smile.

"They'll live to rob someone else."

"How's your wrist?"

"Better."

"Any swelling or bruising?"

"No."

"Keep the brace on for at least the next few weeks. I know you heal quickly, but since I couldn't get an x-ray, I want to be sure it heals right. Four weeks is the usual time recommended."

"Okay."

"Alright, follow me, and I'll show you to the bathroom."

He followed me up the stairs, and I didn't look back until I reached the hall closet. I wanted him to believe I felt safe with him, and part of me wondered if he'd slip away when I had my back turned. I got a few things from the closet and showed him into the bathroom.

"I'll try to find you something to wear while you're busy," I said. "They'll have to do until I can wash these for you. And I have a spare bedroom—in case you ever need a place to sleep." I glanced at him, but he still didn't respond. So I walked him through how to use the shower and where to find what he'd need. I set everything down on the counter and turned back to him. He'd silently watched me through my walk-through and hadn't said a single word. He looked ridiculously out of place in the tiny bathroom.

"You'll probably want to shave too. Steve leaves his razor in the downstairs bathroom if you want to use it. I don't think he'll mind. So I'll go see if I can find you some clothes and I'll set them on the counter for you. Then I'll be downstairs if you need anything." I turned to go but paused. "Also, take the brace off but be careful with your wrist."

Then I left. He watched me go through the mirror and finally spoke when I reached back to shut the door for him.

"Thank you," he murmured. He'd said it once before, but it didn't sound genuine. The words seemed unfamiliar on his lips. Like he wasn't accustomed to conventional politeness. So I took it as an attempt at normality. It made me smile to see him try.

"You're welcome, Bucky," I said. Then I shut the door and left him alone.