thecapitol | Wash the poison from off my skin [Closed]

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Wash the poison from off my skin [Closed]

Who| MCU!Bucky Barnes and Bruce Banner
What| Bucky had his doctors appointment with Justine, he's not doing so good after. Luckily Bruce is a bro
Where| the commons and ten District 3
When| Backdated to a couple days ago
Warnings/Notes| All of Bucky's issues, specifically to do with consent, medical related trauma, experimentation etc.

He can't feel anything but a distant sensation of horror.

At first he'd done alright. Questions, Bucky could handle questions, he could answer them with all the limited knowledge he possessed. That was fine but it wasn't enough for the doctor, no, there had to be more. There had to be examination, touch insisted on, protests and refusals ignored. The peacekeepers in their white suits looming with stun batons at the ready when he'd snarled and been ready to lunge.

He'd wanted to snap her neck, bolt out and leave the room but he wasn't allowed. Bucky had to sit, good and obedient as her hands slithered over him, cold and impassive like he nothing by a weapon all over again. Her smile and kind words didn't matter, he saw through them as the front they were designed to keep him calm and good and obedient. Just like them, they'd pretended to be kind when it suited them as well but it was always a lie, just a means to control him better.

After that it was like he'd switched off. Bucky had done this in the peacekeeper cells too; it was easier to be away when they worked on him and so he'd done the same with her. She'd touched him and opened up the arm to pry at its innards, then she ushered him back out into the hallways and left him to his own devices again.

No ice. No wipe.

When this happened it was hard to come back from it, not without orders. Bucky could always obey but he had nothing now as he wandered into the common area in a daze, skin crawling and throat locked against all the rage and fear, the humiliation of it all he'd buried deep down inside him. He didn't meet anyone's eyes, moving like a man who was sleepwalking through the day.

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Bruce was just reading near the entrance of the commons, using the position to gauge the behavior and patterns of the peacekeepers. From what he was seeing, they meant business, but he wouldn't give them a reason to think he was watching. Better to think he was just reading in a moderately social setting.

He glances up over his glasses when the door opens again. Bucky wanders in. That in and of itself isn't weird, but the hollow look in his eyes immediately rings alarm bells in his head.

"Hey, Bucky." His concern isn't immediately obvious, but he slowly marks his page and closes his book. He casually glances around the commons, looking for Steve since he seems to be the only one Bucky always responds to, but he's not around. "How's it going?"

If the look in his eyes isn't enough then the clear delay it takes for Bruce's words to get through to Bucky should.

He stops, blinks and looks at him like there's thick fog between them, trying to process the words. "I..." Mission report. No, wrong place, wrong time. Still, he expects the slap, the sharp pain to get him back on course. It doesn't come.

"Bruce Banner." identify the speaker, good.

This isn't good.

"That's me. But like I said, you can call me Bruce."

Bruce stares at Bucky steadily, not letting onto the deep unease in his gut. He's seen that look before, wandering around warzones and impoverished streets and pawing at his clothes for help, any help for any price. "Where did you just come from? You don't usually go out, as far as I'm aware."

Edited 2014-10-06 20:59 (UTC)

Bucky here's the question, he can focus on that.

"I was required to submit to a physical examination, conducted by the Tribute physician, Justine Florbelle." he had been late. No, he had been avoiding it. Bucky had willingly disobeyed the Capitol order to report to the doctor to the point that Peacekeepers had been sent to escort him there.

"I see."

He knew that Capitol doctor couldn't be trusted. He stands up, gesturing Bucky towards the elevator. "Why don't you come have lunch with me? It's about that time anyway. I'll cook."

He doesn't know much of anything about Bucky and his history, but he does know that a traumatized man has no place in a restaurant full of potential enemies, and he'd rather figure out what feats of malpractice had been committed in an area where the peacekeepers weren't just waiting for a chance to use their batons.

Like a lost puppy Bucky turns and will follow at Bruce's heels the way he once walked behind his handlers. It's hard to do much else but commit to following present directives and also a relief that someone else is here, someone he can remember he is supposed to be able to trust.

"Understood." he responds like it's a mission being handed down to him, falling back on the Asset's focused will that required nothing more than obeying orders.

It will be a quiet elevator ride. Bucky moves immediately into one corner, body tense and eyes staying on the doors the entire time.

Bruce would really like Steve to show up right about now. He hadn't seen any reason to pry into why Bucky was so strange before, but it's starting to look like there is pertinent information he has missed out on.

"Have you ever had Egyptian? I'm feeling lentils today." He waits until he has ushered Bucky into the D3 kitchen before gesturing for the man to sit. "So. What did the doctor do? I'm guessing she might have... deviated from routine."

"I don't know." he answers honestly, looking around the district common room until he's certain there are no threats lurking out of sight. Were lentils a common food available before 1945? Did he ever eat them as the Winter Soldier? Perhaps he went to Egypt on a mission, he can't tell.

He doesn't sit, instead stays standing hands grasping his elbows and pressing his back to the wall, feeling the solid surface support him and negate the risk of attack from behind as he watches Bruce. Bucky's jaw is clenched, his breathing unsteady. "I didn't want her to touch me. I... didn't want to go."

"Then I'll make some for you and see if you like it." He lets his eyes linger on Bucky for a moment. Defensive posture. Unsteady breathing. Possibly either coming down from a panic attack or working up to one. "I think I'll make some tea, too. You can have some if you want." Bruce would be giving him tea regardless of whether or not he asked for it.

He turns away and puts on a kettle and starts opening up the cupboards to gather ingredients. "I'm guessing she didn't ask nicely?" Of course she just barged in there. Of course. It'd be too much to ask for a doctor who could be a little sensitive to a man struggling with trauma.

He only acknowledges that with a nod. Bucky is trying so hard to calm himself down, he knows what a panic attack feels like now, it happened in the arena and he doesn't want it to happen again. Right now he feels vulnerable and that vulnerability puts him on edge, it makes him dangerous in a place where he needs to be in control.

"She asked. But she didn't ask. Like them." he tries to explain, stutters the words out. "She said... it was a necessity to look." Bucky's eyes go to his metal arm. "In case it broke down, so she could help."

He didn't know how, why, or who, but someone completely ruined this man. A group of people, it sounded like. Somehow, it didn't seem like an appropriate time to ask questions about it.

(It made sense, in a purely medical way, that she would need to examine the arm while it was functional so that she could fix it if it broke. (How the hell does a medical doctor know about bioengineering?) But she had no right to force her treatment on people. No one had that right.)

"So she made you let her open it up."

Didn't she see how that could be disturbing? Didn't she see how upsetting it would be for someone to watch her open them up, like they were just cadavers in a medical school?

Bruce chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn't know Bucky well, didn't know where the trauma came from, and didn't know if he was qualified to handle this. He could try, at least. "Bucky. Look at me for a second."

Don't be silly, it will only take a moment. he remembered the smile she'd worn, the dismissive tone like she was talking to a difficult child, the unspoken threat (as he'd perceived it) if he continued to refuse. It took him back to different rooms with different chairs, different doctors opening him up like any other machine that needed working on.

His human fingers brushed metal plating, feeling how it had been fitted perfectly back in place as if it had never been opened. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd done something to it when his mind checked out, he wasn't even sure how long he'd been there.

Then, Look at me. an order, he shouldn't contradict an order. He wasn't supposed to have handlers and superiors anymore, Steve had said but there was too much programming and years of ingrained behaviour to change so easily. Compare seventy years (even if most of that he spent frozen) of conditioning and wiping to five months now free of HYDRA's control.

Bucky looks up at Bruce.

Edited 2014-10-09 09:57 (UTC)

Bruce waits patiently for Bucky to look up. Then he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, not once breaking eye contact.

"I don't have a medical degree. I do have about eight years of experience giving people medical treatment. If you get hurt or sick, you can come to me if you don't want to go back to Florbelle. I'll see what I can do." He gestured to the shining metal arm. "Same with your arm. You can ask Tony or me to fix it if it ever is damaged. It would be easier to do if we could see inside of it while it's working, but you don't have to let us look if you don't want us to. It's your arm and that's your decision. You won't have to go back to her if we have any say in it."

He didn't know what had happened to Bucky, but whatever it was, the Capitol doctor had triggered some kind of episode or regression. Knowing the Capitol, she probably wouldn't care about doing it all over again. Even if they weren't friends, Bruce would do his very best to avoid that from happening.

"I don't want to go back to Florbelle." he repeats, catching on those words immediately before allowing himself to absorb the rest of what Bruce is saying to him.

An alternative.

Tony he knows. He let Tony fix it in the arena, even after the first disastrous attempt that the man had made to touch it. Bruce, before at the beginning, had helped fix up the brand wound on his face so that it didn't become infected. This is a choice, offered to him with no expectation of obligation to follow through if he accepts.

That knowledge calms him some and allows his breathing to start to slow down and steady itself. "Only if I want to?" he has to be sure.

"Only if you want to," Bruce repeats patiently. "You don't have to accept our help if you don't want it."

He has no idea why the man needs to hear that, but he can sympathize with the need for control over one's own life. He jerks his head towards the saucepan before the silence can stretch, attempting to distract Bucky from any insecurity he may still have. "Do you want to learn how to make lentils? They're easy and they're good for you."

The look on Bucky's face is almost startlingly grateful.

It's not just the promise to help him avoid seeing the Captiol doctor again and to give his and Tony's assistance should it be needed instead, though that is beyond anything he expects from anyone, no, it's the other thing as well. Because through the confusion, the disassociation, the fear and uncertainty, the aimless lack of focus Bruce has offered him a task.

Acting instead of thinking, obeying directions, that was preferable, needed. He nods, then manages a hoarse, "Yes."

"Okay, then come over here and I'll show you."

Bruce starts pulling everything out of the cupboard. Vegetables. Rice. Lentils. Spices.

"We're making Kusherie right now, but lentils goes with nearly anything. They're good for protein and filling you up. Just toss them around with some salt, oil and onions and you could probably just take them around and eat them."

The water in the saucepan is boiling. Bruce tosses in the lentils and lowers the heat. "You just need to let them simmer for twenty to thirty minutes. In the meantime, we can cook the rice, too. Here--"

He puts a chopping board in front of Bucky with a knife and a green pepper. "Do you mind chopping that for me while I put on the rice?"

It doesn't happen immediately. For another thirty seconds Bucky remains pressed against the wall, cradling the cybernetic with his flesh arm and breathing deeply through the last threatening moments of panic.

Move. There was something to accomplish. He has to move.

Silently he slips up to stand to Bruce's left and slightly behind his shoulder. He's taller than the other man and so uses it to see what he is doing, giving his utmost attention to the instructions and memorising them at once. "No."

A little surprised at being handed a knife when combat wasn't imminent he took it up and stared down at the pepper. How did he... something seems to take over his hands, muscle memory maybe, he started by removing the end with the stem on it, it seems to make sense. "These need to be removed."

It's half-murmured to himself on seeing the seeds inside the pepper as he moves his hands to continue.

Bruce had expected Bucky to know how to cut peppers, but apparently, he needs a little reminding. (What had happened to this man?)

"Yeah. Just get rid of the stem, cut it in half, and cut out the seeds. Then cut it into vertical strips and cut the strips into squares." He says it casually, like it's something anyone may need instruction on. In his head, he's wondering how someone could go through life without knowing how to cut peppers.

"How well do you know how to cook?"

He puts the dry rice in a jug and starts rinsing it out, patiently draining out the cloudy white water until it was clear.

Cooking hadn't been high on information worth retaining in the Asset's mind but as Bucky does it he feels familiarity seeping in, a kind of comfortable deja vu. He nods to Bruce's confirmation of his own gut feeling and continues, cutting up the peppers with the sort of skill and precision a professional chef would envy.

"I think I used to cook before." he says after a moment, laying the knife back down (resisting the urge to tuck it away somewhere on his person) after he's finished cutting the peppers. In his scattered state the words are slipping out without due consideration.

He thinks of warm, thick stew, potatos, swede and carrots, what meat they could afford thrown in, always eaten with cheap bread. A pot that lasted them two days.

"I haven't really here." since escaping HYDRA he had scavenged or stolen, bought fast food with the money he lifted from others pockets. Then here in Panem it came prepared, either by the Capitol itself or by others he knew. Bucky himself hadn't made anything much more complicated than toast.

Well, clearly, Bucky knows his way around a knife. That doesn't surprise Bruce at all.

What confuses him is this I think and before. How can you think you once cooked? Before what?

He doesn't let his confusion show on his face. It's more and more clear that something happened and he doesn't have all the details. And he most certainly isn't going to ask Bucky about it, at least not when he's in such a fragile state of mind. That's the kind of thing he doesn't have a right to pry into unless it becomes a problem for everyone else.

"It's easier to keep track of what happens to your food if you make it yourself. I don't trust anything they make for us."

There's a saucepan that he's already put tomato sauce and paste in. He sweeps Bucky's peppers in with it before putting celery leaves in front of him. "You can chop those, too. Just cut them into vertical strips, then slice those."

He pours the rice into a pot full of water, adding a little salt and covering it up. He looks completely at ease in the kitchen, mostly because he is--it's one of the few things he could keep throughout all his travels. Even his skill in science had been something to hide, because a physicist is too memorable. A good cook? Anyone could be a good cook, and it's one of the few skills that grow and keep pieces of all the people and places he left behind.

"If you want, I can try teaching you how to cook." Because it's something everyone should probably know.

He looks up at Bruce when he mentions the issue of trust with the Capitol. Thinking back Bucky doesn't know all of what HYDRA pumped into him or slipped into his food, he only know there was always something laced into it -- the nightmarish few days of living after the Pontomac had proven that. He hadn't clearly understood what was happening at the time as his body burned through the drugs in his system, clamoured for more and then adjusted itself in the wake of the withdrawal. The realisation had come since then but...

Bucky tries not to think of anything the Capitol might be putting into their systems or his mood could plummet rapidly back down. Bruce is right, they should not trust food they don't prepare with their own hands. "Steve cooks sometimes." he says, starting to cut the celery leaves dutifully. They turn out just as perfect as the peppers did.

Nothing less than perfection is acceptable.

Bruce's relaxation filters through to the soldier as the minutes pass, picking up on and following the example he watches and listens. "That would be... beneficial. Yes."

Bucky clearly has potential. He's very meticulous about the cutting, at least. Maybe a little too meticulous, but it doesn't seem to affect his speed too much, so that's not a problem.

"Then I'll teach you. Just come by during any mealtime you feel like."

He sweeps Bucky's celery into the sauce as well before moving around him to take an onion out of the freezer. "And we can start by telling you how to cut onions without tearing up. Here's a hint: everyone does it wrong."

He puts it the onion in front of Bucky. "The reason onions make us cry is that when cells in it are crushed, it releases certain enzymes that reacts with the rest of the onion to turn into sulfuric compounds. Those react with water to make sulfuric acid. That includes the water in our eyes. When our eyes suddenly start swimming in sulfuric acid, we make tears to wash it out."

He gestures towards the freezer as he goes back to tend to the rice and lentils. "Chilling it for a while before you start cutting will slow down the reaction. Putting it in a fridge for about a half an hour before cutting is usually enough, but I prefer putting it in the freezer if I know I'll be using it soon. Using a sharp knife helps too, since a dull knife will crush the cells in the onion instead of cutting them, which makes them react more. And everyone always cuts the ends off first--don't do that. Cut them off last, and point them away from you. They have the highest concentration of reactive cells."

He talks slowly, keeping an eye on Bucky's expression for signs of confusion as he starts sprinkling spices into the sauce. It's the professor in him coming out again, checking if his student understands, if he needs to try explaining it in a different way.

"If all that isn't enough, putting a little vinegar on the cutting board can help denature the enzymes and avoid the reaction in the first place."

"Thank you." he says it quietly after a moment, his head fixed on Bruce as he moves to get the onion and watching intently as it's placed down in front of him. No one should really be putting this much focus on cooking, but then most people didn't start cooking after barely escaping going into a panic attack after seeing the doctor.

He picks up his knife and starts to cut again, heeding the information that is provided to him. "I didn't know that." he concedes and with that advice saves cutting off the ends for last, even though his first instinct is to cut them first, like he's done it a hundred times before. "How do you know that?"

Questioning wasn't something he was supposed to do, he accepted, he learned and he implemented the information, he wasn't supposed to ask where it came from. He's Bucky know though, not the Winter Soldier, he's Bucky and just thinking that, reminding himself of it makes him feel more comfortable in his skin.

"Don't mention it." While Bruce isn't thinking about it in these terms, it'll do him good too to have someone to teach again. As much as he denies it, he misses teaching. (Though he could do without all the tedious grading.)

And as a teacher, he doesn't think anything of being questioned. He goes back to checking the rice and lentils, to checking the sauce, to getting another saucepan sizzling. "I'm a physicist, but I have a working knowledge of chemistry." And by 'working knowledge', he means 'I could probably get another PhD and become a biochemist by now.' He brushed up a lot on it when he was trying to figure out a cure for the Hulk. "The chemical reactions in onions are a common example to use in biochemistry classes or college labs." The corner of his mouth twitches slightly into a brief, tiny smile. "A colleague of mine actually talked me into helping some of those labs, back when I was a professor. I was basically just there to keep freshmen from killing themselves with onions. Or stabbing themselves with titration equipment." Another thing he does not miss: students with no sense of lab safety finding new and exciting ways to either die or cause thousands of dollars of damage. You'd think the lab assistants could help with that, but no, Betty always wanted him to come help with the biochem labs because she thought it was good for him to get out of the physics lab.

Scientists are perhaps almost as much a thing to be wary of as doctors, interchangeable in his experience, leading back always to men with needles and scalpels and a lack of concern for his consent in the matter. Luckily with Bruce already having gone over the respect for Bucky's choices, and a feeling physics might not cross over much into what was done to him, it doesn't raise any alarm with him.

"You were a teacher." he finds himself curious about that. "How did you come to know Steve?"

"Yeah. A physics professor. But that was a long time ago. Ten years, maybe?"

He normally doesn't talk much about himself, but considering Bucky is still coming down from a potentially traumatizing experience, he'll make an exception.

"The short of it is that the world landed in trouble and SHIELD decided that Steve, Tony, and I were the ones who were going to save it, whether we liked it or not." Or. Well. It was whether Bruce liked it or not, really. Steve and Tony might have been able to say no, but Bruce was almost dragged kicking and screaming.

And yes, Bucky. Yes, the frumpy old man was one third of the fighting force that was supposed to save the world.

"And then Thor showed up and he, Natasha, and Barton decided to come for the ride." He pauses in his cooking, frowning thoughtfully. "I still don't really know when Agent Barton joined in. I think I was falling when that happened. Anyway, we ended up finding out that Thor's brother, Loki, was trying to take over the world with aliens and we got to fight an invasion together. And we broke midtown New York in the process, but better than letting the world get ruled by a melodramatic alien, I guess."

He's heard some of this story before but never in its entirety. He recognises every name spoken though, Bartong the man Loki talked him into killing in his first arena, back before he knew better... and Loki... "Loki is here. He's an enemy."

Despite the way his jaw clenches at the mention of SHIELD ~~HYDRA~~ he listens and nods though looks like he's trying to figure out about Bruce. How did a former-physics professor with medical knowledge fit in amongst a super-soldier, an alien, a man who built himself a suit of powered armour and two highly trained spies? "You fight, then?"

Bruce just doesn't look the part, not at all from what Bucky has seen from him. He's clever though, perhaps he factored in in a different way than outright combat.

"A version of him we don't know, but yes. He is."

At the question, Bruce pauses in his cooking, glancing over at Bucky with a furrowed brow. "Steve didn't tell you?"

But of course, as soon as he said it, he realizes that perhaps he should have expected that. 'Only word I care about.' Steve has a healthy respect for the Hulk, but he's not as alarmist about it as most people are. "I guess he was trying to respect my privacy." Because that seemed like the kind of thing that should have been brought up at some point, that Bruce could turn into an unstoppable force of destruction whenever he lost his temper. But perhaps not as much here, though, where the Capitol decides whether he has a life-changing condition or not.

He looks back down at the cooking, at the bubbling sauce and steam coming from the rice and lentils. "How are you with the onions?"

So. How to explain this. "I can fight in a manner of speaking. Under normal circumstances, I'm just good enough to take down regular street fighters. Nothing impressive. I'm better at finding a way to disappear when the fight starts."

And he's really good at not being found again, but that's not what Bucky asked. He decides to give Bucky the shortened story unless he's asked for more details. "But I have a... condition. When I lose my temper or am in a lot of pain, I turn into something very big, green, and strong. SHIELD said they just wanted my expertise in gamma rays, but they ended getting the other guy to fight the invasion too."

"Oh." he understands but Bucky doesn't hear Bruce say anything to dissuade his statement that Loki is an enemy so that fact will stand.

"No. They're done." he pushes the board with the cut onions over to Bruce, whose words of wisdom had proven true with not one inkling of irritation in Bucky's eyes during the process of cutting them. He'll remember that, should he ever actually make an attempt to cook alone.

When Bruce talks Bucky listens. It's clear during the explanation that if someone said the word 'Hulk' to Bucky he'd have no idea what it was referring to, as most anyone from their world would hear 'big, green and strong' and connect the dots, this man, however, doesn't. He also doesn't look alarmed to hear it, just curious and like he's calculating the advantages of the ability Bruce speaks of.

"The Capitol must have taken it away from you." The same as they took everyone else's true strength. If Bruce had been left this condition then the last arena would have been a very different story.

"If they hadn't taken it away, there wouldn't be a Capitol anymore."

There was a sudden dark edge to his voice that hadn't been there a moment ago, a deadly seriousness that thrummed in his blood and growled in his head. He would have lost control of himself a long time ago. It wouldn't matter who was a Capitolite, who was a Tribute, who was an adult or a child--whatever had been in his path would be gone.

But that's not what he should talk about with a man coming down from a panic attack. He sweeps the onions into the oil, adding spices and letting them brown. "You mind grabbing a bowl and a colander for me?" His voice is normal again. Light, casual, soft. "The rice and lentils should be done by now. That means we can start mixing them together.

It catches Bucky's attention clearly and his eyes are intent, perhaps even fascinated by the sudden change in Bruce's tone that hints at a side to the man he hadn't seen before. This thing he could turn into, this being, he's curious at how someone who seemed so harmless could turn so dangerous as to level an entire city.

Which, in Bucky's eyes, would be no bad thing. So long as he can get those few people he has come to care about, to be loyal to, out he could watch the Capitol be torn apart without issue, the same way he had wished to do to HYDRA. It needed to be burned down to the ground so no more heads could grow, it was the only way.

The Capitol and HYDRA, they intermingle in his mind more often than he would like.

Bucky shakes off what are turning to bloodthirsty thoughts as Bruce speaks to him again, focusing on that and not his internal dialogue. He shouldn't think like the Asset anymore, at least not when he doesn't need to, especially not when he's trying to calm down. "Okay."

He moves to the cupboards, searching until he finds the requested items.

The issue was that the Hulk is not controlled. The Hulk would not stop. The Hulk would not discriminate. It is impossible to defeat, to intimidate, or reason with. There is no guarantee the Hulk would stop at the Capitol, or allow anyone to escape. In that light, Bruce figures that perhaps it's for the best that the Hulk has been suppressed.

"Thanks." Bruce takes the colander and strains the water out of the lentils and rice before pouring them both into the bowl, tossing them together before adding the browned onions and then the sauce. "Can you go grab some plates and silverware? We're ready to eat."

"It's no problem." There's a thank you somewhere in Bucky's tone. A thank you for helping to calm him down, for reassuring him, for offering help and a distraction. This has been good for him, certainly far better than what might have happened if he hadn't run into Bruce in the lobby.

He lays the table for two and waits for Bruce to set out the food and choose his seat first.

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Wash the poison from off my skin [Closed]

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Reached a good stopping point here, you think?