Steve nodded and went into Gemma's room again, plopping a straw into the glass and holding it so she could drink.

"Just take a little for now, don't make yourself sick," he told her.

Gemma sipped at the water, sputtering a bit when she drank a little too fast. It was wonderfully cold, and it helped soothe the odd heat inside her, at least momentarily.

"Better?" Steve asked, setting the water down once she was done. "How do you feel?" He pressed his palm against her forehead. At least her temperature was down a bit.

"Crowded," Gemma replied after a moment. "Constricted." She squirmed a bit, although it was more of a weak flop.

Steve frowned at that. "Want to move up to the living room?" he offered. "More room there, bigger windows."

"No, that's--" Gemma made a small, frustrated sound. "I don't fit right anymore."

Steve went still at that, because Bucky used language like that sometimes.

"Because of what happened?" he guessed, watching her carefully.

"I don't know," Gemma replied, still frustrated. "Maybe. Probably." She didn't even exactly know what happened, yet, and that frustrated her too.

"Easy," Steve told her. "We'll figure things out, I promise. For now, though, try and relax if you can. You're still recovering."

Gemma sighed and closed her eyes, nodding a little. Rest sounded good. It didn't take her long to drift off to sleep again.

Steve was a little more relaxed now that she'd woken up, but now he had a whole new reason to worry. He moved back into the living room to let her sleep.

Bucky was still in the living room.

"How is she?" he asked, watching Steve. He could see the worry in every line of the man's body.

"Resting again," Steve said with a little sigh. "She already said she feels different." He rolled his shoulders to try to dispel some tension.

"I'm not surprised," Bucky muttered, settling back in on the couch.

Steve didn't reply to that, instead starting to pace the living room again. Not that he hadn't been for the past three days while she was out.

Bucky watched him pace. Steve was definitely upset, and Bucky had no idea how to help.

"Does it bother you that she's different?" he finally asked.

"No," Steve said immediately. "God, no, Buck. It doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that I don't know how to help her."

"You might not be able to," Bucky pointed out quietly. "It's hard, changing like that."

"I know." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "I know that things will be different, but..." He sighed. "I just want her to have an easier time."

"An easier time than me, you mean?" Bucky prodded, raising an eyebrow. He snorted softly. "She's lucky. She's got you from the start."

Steve sighed, dropping down next to him. "You know I woulda been there for you the whole time," he muttered. "If I'd known when you fell..."

"It's done, Stevie," Bucky replied. "Can't change it." He glanced at Steve. "But it means I might know a thing or two about this, yeah?"

Steve was hesitant about that. "I dunno, Buck, you don't even talk to Sam about that," he said. "Sure you're ready to?"

"No," Bucky replied bluntly. Hey, he was being honest, that was something Sam always praised him for. "It's hard, Stevie. Harder than anything." He was quiet for a moment. "But, if it helps any, who'm I to refuse?"

Steve sighed. He really couldn't argue with that, because he'd pulled that line himself several times. "Just don't overdo it," he said. "Won't help either if you if you make yourself worse."