Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Special Ops to command centre. We're closing in on the collision site. Wilson and Torres flying over." Torres reported into the comms while Sam got his chute ready. 

They were following up on kind of a weird report. Heavy weaponry was being fired in this area. None identified themselves as U.S military or authorized weapon testing, so they got sent to check it out. 

The last thing they heard is that two aircrafts were involved, they collided and both went down. Time to see if anyone's still living down there. Whomever they might be.

The air blasted over him as he stood right at the crest of the open door. Torres called over his shoulder from the pilots chair. "See anything?"

"Two balls of fire." Sam grimaced. From their height, they could see the two smoldering wreckages of some sort of large aircraft and a smaller plane. His job at this point, was to check for survivors and any identification of the aircrafts, if possible. He stood up, tugging on the straps of his chute to tighten them. "Wilson jumping in ten." He spoke into the comms, Joaquín called over his shoulder again.

"Want me to do some laps while you check it out?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. Get yourself out of the airspace in case someone comes looking for these two. Keep your comms on. I'll let you know what I find." With that, he simply let himself get taken by the rushing wind, falling through the air, picking up speed. Below them was a mountain range and pretty thick tree cover. There was a clearing not far from the crash sites, so he'd aim for there. He spun around in the air as he got the affirmative from Torres and watched the plane turn and go back in the direction they came from.

It's for the best. If these people had illegal gun ships or they were foreign agents or something, he didn't want Joaquín flying a U.S airforce plane within shooting distance. 

Reaching back, he pulled the cord and his body was yanked back up. Floating down, he had more time to scan over the area. Though he didn't see anything of note, besides from a skinny river a few hundred yards from the crash, leading off into the distance. He pulled the handles to steer himself away from the plume of smoke so he didn't float right through it.

Landing right in the middle of the clearing, Sam bundled up his parachute and left it by the edge of the clearing. The chutes are usually just discarded in combat but they'll take them back to base if possible.

The smell of burning metal, smoke hanging in the air. Sam pulled his neck gaiter over his nose and mouth, making his way to the crash site through the thick woods. It's the middle of the rainy season so there's no concerns about the fires spreading. The wet wood and damp earth will extinguish the flames. It's just the leaves and fuel from the air crafts that are burning right now.

He came across the smaller plane first, it wasnt too far away from the big one. From the looks of it, the smaller plane crashed into the carrier, causing the large vessel to eventually crash. A big vessel like that was built to take damage and stay airborne long enough to safely land. Didn't seem to turn out that way.

It was a single person flyer. No one on board. The top was open and the ejector had been activated. There was nothing inside. He moved onto the big one that took down a dozen trees with it.

He kept his distance from the larger carrier while he examined it. The fuel reserves and engine have already exploded given the state of the wreckage, so all he had to do was brave some fire to check for anything identifiable. Even as he was looking it over, the flames dulled to a smolder. Upon getting close, he recognized it as an A400m Atlas. Less than half the size of a commercial airplane but still big. It's a transport vehicle, usually carrying smaller vehicles like jeeps or helicopters. Didn't seem to have anything but people on board. The most important piece of information here, is that this aircraft is used primarily by the German air force.

A German air force transport vessel was shot down in American Air space by a currently unknown smaller aircraft. Messy.

The thing had been torn apart. Literally. Some of the damage didn't look like an explosion had caused it. The only way he could describe it was like it had been ripped open. There was one spot in particular, directly on top through the roof, where the metal bent inwards. Like punching your fingers through the foil on a jar of Nutella.

He stepped up experimentally onto the floor platform of the wreckage. The loading bay was open and he could walk right in. There were eight men inside. All deceased but only a few were caught in the fire. A crash like this, of course there were no survivors. But looking around, seeing remnants of blood splatter son the walls of the craft, Sam got a feeling in his gut to look closer.

He picked a random body and gave them a once over. Once he saw the very clear cause of death, Sam was forced to reassess his first impression of what had gone down here. He had been shot under his jaw with a pistol, the bullet coming right out the top of his head. He checked the next man, shot in the left leg and the chest, next man, strangled, next man, neck broken, but bruising around the neck suggests it was inflicted by a person, not the crash. All of them, with the exception of the pilot, had been killed before the crash. 

"What the hell..." Barely whispering to himself, taking a closer look at the dull grey bruising on the corpse. Sam reported what he'd found so far into his comms. None of them had weapons matching the one that did all this damage. His mind dragged back to the strangulation victim. His neck was crushed. But there was clear finger bruising. Someone has one hell of a grip.

As to how this carrier came down. The Atlas is built sturdy. If you're gonna crash, you'd hope it was in something like this. Someone made sure everyone on board died anyway.

He checked for signs that one of these dead men has attacked the others but only a few of them had defensive wounds. The rest were killed by surprise.

Sam's ear picked up the sound of coughing. It sounded muffled. Like someone was trying to cough quietly. Sam followed the noise a little off from the atlas crash. His eyes widened at the sight of movement. A person, writhing on the ground, dragging themselves from the wreckage. It was a man and he was pulling at a mask covering half his face. Even from the distance Sam could see his eyes threatening to roll back, to pass out, but there was a franticness to his movements. The desperation of an injured man.

Sam wasted no time running over. Pulling his mask down back around his neck. "Hey! Hold up man, hold still. Lemme-" as soon as he crouched next to him, the mans eyes laser focused in on his face. Like he no longer had any injuries, with lightning speed, grabbed Sam's wrist in a dead lock grip. 

Sam hissed at the instant pressure making his hand seize but he stayed calm. 

This was normal. Sam was used to this as a pararescue. Soldiers are on high alert at all times. Sometimes it takes them a few minutes to realize someone is helping them and not trying to kill them. Sam held up his other hand in surrender, keeping still but making sure to exude a comforting level of confidence. "Alright, that's cool. No touching. Sorry I spooked ya'." He gave the man another look now he was closer. Besides from the awfully nasty glare he was currently giving Sam, he was trembling. Likely from the several deep wounds on his body. The guy's covered in blood, Sam can clearly see it seeping through his clothes, even though he's in all black. The wet patches are fairly obvious.

The grip did not let up at all. If anything he squeezed tighter. It was then when Sam clocked in on this guy's hand that was holding his wrist. He was wearing some kinda... gauntlet? It made his whole arm look like it was made out of metal.

Looking back to his face, Sam slowly put the palm of his free hand flat to his own chest. The injured man followed his movements like he was trying to predict what Sam might do next.

"I'm Sam Wilson. I'm a PJ Special Ops. I can take a look at you if you let me." He spoke clear and concise, nodded down to the mans injuries.

He wasn't even sure if this guy spoke English but he'd try it anyway. He had a few other languages under his belt. Spanish, Arabic, a little bit of Russian. Probably not enough if that's all this guy speaks. "I just wanna help you. If you let me patch you up, you can go on your way."

Something in the man's glare settled. Okay so he maybe speaks English. Sam's eyes drifted down to the mask over his face. There were pink and red scratches cresting the edge of the mask on his cheeks, neck and the side of his face. Like he'd been trying to tear the mask off his face with no success.

"Want some help with that?" Sam pointed to the mask. The man's eyes stared into him like he wasn't sure what Sam wanted. Regardless, his hand released Sam's wrist and he resisted the urge to wince and rub the now very sore spot. 

He didn't nod but Sam took the release as a yes, nodding slowly as he tried to move behind him to see the back of his head and the metal hand latched right back onto his wrist.

Sam flinched, raising his other hand in surrender again. "Don't want me behind you. Totally valid." He sighed, crouching back down in front of him. Sam wondered if his face was getting sore from all the scowling he's doing or if he was used to it.

Sam slowly reached his hands under his ears, around the back of his head and slowly felt around for a clasp or a buckle, something that was keeping this mask fastened so tightly to this guy's face. Gently grazing his fingertips over the back of his skull, through his hair until he found what felt like it might be a clip fastener. It was small and fiddly. He needed two hands. No wonder this guy couldn't get it off with his big metal glove.

He was in that crash so Sam wasn't gonna judge him for how clearly he was thinking. He's probably still running purely on adrenaline. Even now he was just staring at Sam, scanning over his face while he sat perfectly still, tense under Sam's hands.

With some effort, he got his fingers under the clasp and undid them, slowly pulling the mask off. He pulled gently since it was clear, especially on the sides of his head, that it had been done up tight enough to cut into him. 

Once the mask was off, the man pulled his head back and gasped, coughing now his mouth was unobstructed. He fell back onto the ground and hissed, grabbing his side, still mid coughing fit.

"I gotcha man. C'mere." He gently reached down, helping him roll onto his less injured side. A hand snapped up and grabbed at his arm, holding it tightly in a way that may have been threatening if he wasn't currently gasping for air. Sam glanced at the inside of the mask. It wasn't molded to the shape of his face, it had metal slats inside where his mouth would sit. His heart stopped and a chill ran down his spine.

Sam stared down at the man in the ground. When his heart started beating again, it picked up, faster and faster until it was hammering against his ribcage.

Was this a muzzle?

The mask slid from his hand and dropped into the dirt beside him. The man was still coughing, his body lurching as he gasped for air, only to force it out again. He released Sam again, only to brace himself against the ground as his cough turned to a dry heave, color draining from his face.

Sam took the opportunity to take a look at his condition. There was a deep gash just under his ribs. It wasn't gushing blood but it also wasn't just bleeding a little. He wasn't even sure if that was the worst of it. 

There was blood matting his hair on the back of his head, so Sam might be dealing with a concussion.

Sam took a deep, centering breath. He needed to move quickly. Fix this guy's side up and his several other injuries. Burns from the crash and god knows how much else.

The man caught his breath, chest heaving and tried to push himself upright again. Sam took a risk and set a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

"Okay what we aren't gonna do, is move around too much and make this worse." That got him another glare. "Yeah, yeah buddy, wrap it up."

Sam helped him sit up slowly and the man pushed his hair back off his face. The lower face of his face now the only part of his body clean from ash and blood. Unsure if there was a language barrier or not, Sam pulled his bag off his back and pointed to the medics cross. "See? I'm helping you. You're injured and I'm helping you. We on the same page?" He watched for a reaction and thankfully, he seemed to understand. He stared at the cross before raising his head to meet Sam's eyes, blank expression replacing the previous untrusting glare.

Sam's shoulders dropped as he sighed. "Can I help you up?" They needed to get somewhere clean adjacent to patch him up. He recalled the river he spotted on the way down. That'll have to do. The man was suddenly much more cooperative, allowing Sam to help him stand.

Helping him to his feet and ducking under his arm, Sam wrapped an arm around him. The man leaned on him, stumbling the moment he was on his feet. Sam kept them both steady. "I gotcha. Walk this way." He was walking pretty steadily, so his legs must have avoided injury. However, the blood loss must be at least moderate by this point, so he's probably dizzy, lightheaded, maybe nauseous. Sam kept a tight hold on him.

He looked ahead, watching the trees thin the closer to the river they got, replaced by bushes and plants that thrived on being so close to water. "So!" He adjusted his grip on the man's wrist and waist as they walked. "You got a name?"

In the quiet of the forest, the creaking sounds of the wreckage being a bit behind them now, Sam could hear him take a deep, shaky breath. He shook his head.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "No? You don't wanna tell me, or you don't have a name?"

The man's eyes twitched, shaking his head again. something in his eyes said his mind was far away from him. He stared at nothing. Sam remembered the muzzle and something twisted in his gut.

He let out a small chuckle, smiling in a way he hoped was comforting. "Well that can't be right. You gotta have a name. What am I supposed to call you?" 

The man raised his head and locked eyes with Sam for a moment. It was hard to miss the way his eyes seemed to glaze over, going out of focus.

"...Soldat..." He finally spoke, his voice gruff. Hoarse and unused.

Sam quirked an eyebrow up. "Sol..." He paused. "That's Russian for soldier."

The man didn't say anything.

Sam readjusted his hold on him again, preparing to start walking again. "You want me to call you Soldier?"

The man didn't say anything. He stared off behind Sam. His eyes not focused on anything. 

Sam sighed, deep from his chest. He seemed to understand English. Whether or not he spoke it remained it be seen. Sam gave his waist a firm pat. "Alright then Soldier. Let's get you sorted."

--

MEDICAL PERSONNEL IDENTIFIED--

MEDICAL PERSONNEL IS VITAL TO THE CONTINUED USE OF THE ASSET.

THE ASSET MUST COMPLY WITH THE REQUESTS OF THE MEDICAL PERSONNEL

NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL - PROTECT AT ALL COST.

--

The gentle sound of water trickling down stream hit his ears. It was more of a creek than a river. The rocks clearly visible in the shallow water they could easily walk through if they wanted to. Sam was just here for the flat, soft earth and access to water in case what he had on his person wasn't enough.

Sam stopped beside a thick tree trunk. "Can you lean here for a second? Gonna find some flat-ish ground." Soldier braced himself against the tree while Sam found a good spot. He kicked rocks out of the way and looked out for tree roots poking out of the earth. He tried to ignore the way Soldier watched his every move. Less scrutinizing more... watchful. Keeping an eye on him like a parent with their kid at the pool.

He opened his pack, pulling out one of the shock blankets and laying the thin reflective material down. Not really for comfort. It won't act as much more than a barrier to dirt, but it'll be warm. 

Sam walked back over to him, taking his arm. "Aight. Down ya go bud." With a groan of effort, he laid Soldier down onto the shock blanket. He was breathing heavily again, his face and body tense like he was forcing himself to stay awake.

Sam put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Just relax. Can't sew you up if you're flexing every muscle you have." He wet the cloth with water from his canister and lightly dabbed at a burn on his face, gently washing away the dirt caked onto the raw skin. 

Despite his initially grumpy demeanor, it seemed like once Soldier was certain Sam was helping him, he was totally compliant. Doing whatever Sam said with a nearly scary level of obedience. Sam wished all his patients were so well behaved. Every instruction obeyed immediately. Relax, keep still, lift his arms, take off his shirt--

Sam froze. Now his chest was bare, Sam's eyes zeroed in on Soldier's left shoulder. A massive amount of scarring and the "gauntlet", which as it turns out, was not a gauntlet at all. 

"What the..." Sam gently touched where the metal met his skin. That's his arm. He has a metal arm. Sam caught onto the fact his mouth was hanging open and he snapped it closed, pressing his lips together. He's never seen a prosthetic this advanced. Soldier can move it so naturally that Sam thought it was a real, flesh and blood arm. He recalled how strong the grip was. What's this guy doing with a state-of-the-art prosthetic arm? Sam frowned at the scarring. Signs of repetitive surgeries marred his skin. Sam reached down and experimentally lifted the forearm. It was hefty. Much heavier than a normal arm. His frown deepend.

His mind was brought back to the injuries the men in the carrier had. The hand grip that crushed their necks. He absentmindedly touched his wrist that was already bruising from the grip Soldier had on it earlier. Finger shaped bruises that matched the corpses. Sam's heart started to thunder in his chest. Did Soldier kill all of those men? Sam should call the Command Centre. Report this and Soldier to his higher ups...

Sam's eyes drifted up to meet Soldier's. He was just looking at him. No longer glaring. Like he was waiting. Sam ignored the intrusive thoughts that it was like when a dog was told to sit, waiting for a new order. Sam felt a deep concern rise in his chest so inexplicably despite the fear he was feeling moments before.

Steeling himself, he came to the conclusion he wasn't in any danger. For now. He couldn't explain it.  There was something about Soldier that was so calm and placid in this moment. Sam could convince himself he wasn't capable of hurting anyone. He brushed off his feelings and returned his attention to Soldiers many wounds. One thing at a time Sam. 

He used a cloth to clean the dirt, soot and dried blood from around the wounds as best as he could and opened up his USAF alice pack. Had all the medical supplies necessary to do emergency surgery on the field. He had plenty to fix up one soldier. "Okay. I'm gonna stitch you up. This is gonna take some time. Definitely gonna be uncomfortable." He doesn't know why he expected some kind of response. Some acknowledgment that he was about to start sticking a needle into him over and over. Soldier just lay there.

Sam asked him if he was ok with numbing cream, slightly stronger than what you'd get at a tattoo parlor, or if he'd be more comfortable with something more effective. Soldiers expression shifted just barely. He looked at Sam with a hint of confusion. Like the idea of pain relief was foreign to him. He had been fully prepared for Sam to dive right in.

He didn't want to inject a general anesthesia in case he had an adverse reaction to it. He didn't trust Soldier knew or was going to share his medical records. He took a deep breath and started off slowly, watching for any signs of discomfort.

Soldier just watched him the entire time. Even when the antiseptic came in to play, the stinging of the chemical coming into contact with the open wound. He was completely silent and still. Sam smiled uneasily, prepping the next stitch. "High pain tolerance huh?"

Soldier didn't say anything.

Sam nodded to himself, about two thirds through the stitches, figuring he'd try to get a conversation started again.

"Well someone's clearly trained you well. You get severely injured a lot I take it?" He grinned through his joke and the soldier continued to stare. Sam's smile faded, scissors snipping at the second to last stitch, closing up the gash under his ribs. 

Sam finished up, sealing the skin with one final stitch and unraveled some gauze. "Could you lift yourself up a little? Just gotta get under you." 

Soldier did, pushing his elbows into the ground and arching his back enough for Sam to wrap the gauze around him. One down. He got to work cleaning up the more superficial wounds. The minor burns, the cuts and scrapes. Soldier just lay there silently the whole time. Not once complaining. 

Sam cleared his throat to relieve the awkwardness he felt. He immediately acts on instructions but he doesn't respond to small talk at all. The only regular question that got a different reaction out of him was asking for his name.

Alright. Next. He sat himself by Soldiers head, gently feeling around for the source of the blood. "Could ya' sit up a little?" He maneuvered his backpack for Soldier to lean on, so Sam could clean the blood out of his hair to find the wound. Thankfully, it wasn't a big. Head wounds just bleed a lot. Half a dozen stitches later, he lay Soldier back down.

Sam gave his arm a pat. "Nicely done. The worst of it is over." He smiled warmly and Soldier blinked at him, his expression no different from when Sam was piercing his skin with a needle. Though he was breathing a little slower.

He spent some time cleaning Soldier up, getting the blood and dirt away from his eyes, wiping it away gently with the wet cloth. Sam almost chuckled when the grime had been cleaned away, revealing this mans incredibly pretty face. He wasn't expecting those handsome facial features under all that.

Sam took one final look over him for the sake of verification. He almost didn't give his legs a second glance because of how easily he had walked before, until he noticed a few holes in his pants. Two were just grazes, likely from the crash but one was a clean, round hole that went directly through the front of his leg. Sam frowned and checked the back of his leg. No exit wound. Great.

Sam scratched his forehead with the backs of his knuckles before letting his arm flop back onto his own bent knee. "You were shot." Sam stated plainly.

Soldier didn't say anything, just kept staring stoically. 

Sam shook his head "How in the hell were you walking?" There's a whole-ass bullet lodged in his thigh, right above his knee. The fact that he can put any pressure on it at all is astounding. Sam wouldn't have known it was worse than a sprained ankle if he hadn't checked.

Soldiers voice surprised him. Flat and monotonous. "You told me to." English. Clear, American english. No accent or anything.

Sam didn't know how to respond to that. Sam's fingers twitched at his leg, that uncomfortable feeling creeping up on him again. "What do you mean?"

The response came immediately. Clear and concise. "My directive states I comply completely with medical personnel."

It was the most Soldier had spoken and it only made Sam more confused. He couldn't help the way his face screwed up. "Directive? You need a directive to listen to your doctor?" 

Soldier didn't say anything.

Sam huffed out his nose. "Right. Well..." He unzipped the secondary part of his med pack containing the more intricate, also sharper equipment. "We're gonna need to get that out of you. Sooner rather than later." Usually he'd give the patient a break for their body to relax after one stitch job but if he'd known about the bullet wound, he would have started with that.

Similar to a tattoo session that goes on for too long. The body can start to reject the constant intrusions and swell, rejecting the ink. In this case, the stitches.  So Sam didn't wanna push it because he'd have to take them out, wait and then do it again. Which is traumatic, unnecessary and avoidable.

He sighed, standing up, eyes on him still. Sam needed a break to stretch his legs anyway. It was just gonna have to be a short one. He could take some time to boil some more water. "I'm gonna make a call. Stay put."

Sam got up, grabbed his bag and walked towards the creek. He looked back to where Soldier was. He couldn't see him clearly but Sam just knew he was staring at the sky. Not relaxing, just... stationary. He realized he hadn't updated anyone since finding Soldier. He wasn't even sure how to report it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to just yet. Something in the back of Sam's head was blaring an alarm siren for an emergency he hadn't figured out yet.

He settled for getting into contact with Torres directly on a private line, it's been around an hour, give or take. Joaquín would be expecting an update by now. He clicked on his comms.

"Hey, Torres. You still in the air?"

His reply came immediately. "Nope! Landed a little while west. You need me?"

Sam glanced back over at Soldier. Speaking slowly, unsure of his own answer. "...Maybe."

Chipper as ever, Joaquín popped his lips. "Well that was super suspicious."

Sam groaned, rubbing his face. "I don't even know where to start man." He walked further down the river bank, stretching out his legs. 

"How bout whatever happened after you got to the crash?" Joaquin offered, sounding like he was trying to be helpful more than pry for answers.

Sighing, Sam sat down on one of the larger rocks bordering the creek, watching the water run over the river bed. "I found a guy. He's..." Sam groaned, glancing over his shoulder. "He's not right Torres."

Suddenly Joaquín's voice was laced with concern. "Are you alright? You need backup?"

Sam shook his head despite the lack of a visual element to their conversation. "No, not like that. There's something wrong with him." He paused, inhaling before breaking the more pressing news. "I'm also pretty certain he caused the crash somehow."

Joaquín dragged out his words to emphasize his disbelief. "How can one guy do all that?"

Sam didn't have proof but there was definitely more to this. "Just call it a hunch." He reached into his pack and pulled out his storm kettle, filling it with river water. While they chatted, Sam got a small fire going to boil the water. He'd used all of his supply to clean Soldier. He must be parched. He filtered the water into his canteen then poured it back into the kettle.

Joaquín's voice came in a little more panicked than usual. "Wait. Are you safe with him? I'm coming now."

Sam didn't object to it but he did his best to dissuade the concern. "Weirdly enough? Yeah I think I am. He's just...doing everything I say."

He could hear Torres stop dead in his tracks. "What do you mean?"

Sam rubbed his palm over his thigh, brimming with nervous energy. "I mean exactly that, man. There was a little bit of resistance when I found him but now he's just completely compliant. Then he looks at me like he's waiting for me to tell him to do something else."

The silence dragged on until Torres eventually spoke again. "...okay weird."

"Yeah it's fucking weird." Sam hissed. He's used to the people he patches up talking to him at least a little. Even if it's just to say ouch. "It's not even the weirdest part. He was wearing a damn muzzle. He couldn't get it off on his own." Sam couldn't shake the feeling this guy was in trouble somehow. Yes, the guy who took down an aircraft, is the one who's in danger. He couldn't explain it if he tried. "Then when he did speak, he spoke Russian. Then, he's speaking perfect English telling me about his 'directive'."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Haven't even mentioned the metal arm."

"What!? ...wait a sec..." Torres trailed off and Sam tilted his head like it helped him hear his comms better. 

"What is it?"

Torres took a few seconds to reply. "A buddy of mine works in USSS. He knows I love the crazy shit, so for my birthday he tells me one state secret."

"Can't he go to prison for that?"

"He's a really good friend."

Sam closed his eyes. "Go on."

"Right, anyway. He told me about these insane assassinations on military officials all over the world. Some political figures too. Super efficient. Whoever was doing it never got caught because anyone around the target also got killed. No one ever lived to tell anyone about it." He could hear Torres rummaging around in the cock pit as he spoke. Preparing to take off.

"They thought it must be some kind of super coordinated gang because of the number of casualties. But eventually they discovered it was just one guy. One guy with a metal arm." He hung onto the final words like a reveal Sam would be excited to hear about.

"The weird part is they span over years. At least ten from what they can confirm. One or two of these assassinations, then it won't happen again for a couple years. But they think the same guy is responsible for all of them."

Sam processed that story, then thought about the obedient man laying not far away. "...There's no way."

He could envision Joaquín with his arms thrown out to the side. "How many people have metal arms dude?"

Sam still felt so defensive, perhaps against all common sense. But he did. When he didn't reply, Joaquín spoke up again.

"I'll be there as soon as I find a good place to land. Don't get assassinated."

The comms clicked off and Sam stayed where he was for a few minutes, staring at the creek. He scooped up the kettle, stomping out the fire and cooled the kettle down in the river, before making his way back to their makeshift camp. Just as expected, Soldier hadn't moved an inch. Sam couldn't prove that he didn't blink but he'd bet money it wasn't often, if at all.

Sam clicked his tongue, deciding to use this weird situation for good. "Sit up a little." Sam instructed as he crouched beside him, pouring the contents of the kettle into his canteen. He held an arm out, ready to put it behind Soldier to help him out, since the stitches would make it uncomfortable to sit completely upright. Soldier did. Pushing himself up until Sam told him to stop. Sam held his canteen to Soldiers lips, his other arm around him. "Drink up."

Noticably, Soldier didn't grab the canteen and do it himself. Instead he just opened his mouth. Sam slowly, gently pressed the rim to his lips and tipped. Soldier gulped it down before Sam could ease back to let him breathe. 

Sam kept his inner reaction to himself. He was thirsty he just didn't say anything. Meaning he was likely in pain, he just wasn't saying anything. He could also be feeling any number of negative things but he's Just. Not. Saying. Anything.

But why? Why would he pretend he's fine? Why would he force this complete obedience even though he's suffering?

Soldier lightly gasped as Sam pulled the canteen away, gulping a now, no doubt, far less dry throat. Sam set it down. "Good. Lay back down. Let's get this done." He held up a finger and pointed down rather ungracefully. "Gonna have to take those off so I can actually get to the bullet hole."

Instantly, Soldiers hands were at his belt and the front of his pants, undoing them before Sam could protest. "Hold up man. Let's get the boots off first huh?" Sam moved down his body and undid the laces and the buckles, grabbing the bottom and back and levering them off. He did the same with the other boot and put them at the base of the tree beside them.

He moved back to crouch beside his torso "As long as you don't mind the bonding exercise. It'll be easier on you if I help." Sam had his most professional medical persona firmly in place. Didn't need him popping stitches.

Soldier didn't say anything. But he did lean back, looking up at him expectantly. That was the most permission Sam was ever going to get. 

Hooking his fingers under the waistband, Sam tugged the blood soaked trousers down his legs, being careful around where the blood had dried, sticking the fabric to his skin. He got them over his feet, folded them and put them with the rest of his clothes. 

Sam didn't bother asking this time. He gave Soldier a small dose anesthesia directly to his leg to numb the pain before he went digging around inside it. "Alright. You gotta stay as still as you can, okay? This is gonna suck." He gave his other leg a comforting pat. Soldier said nothing. Big surprise. He strapped a tourniquet from his pack around Soldiers upper thigh, snapped on a new pair of rubber gloves and got to work.

Soldier did as he was told. He stayed perfectly still. The lack of a reaction was worse somehow. It was so deeply unnerving that it was more of a distraction to Sam than if he was flinching and yelping in pain. Soldier didn't move at all. Not a twitch. Not even when Sam's forceps were three inches deep in his thigh. He kept asking if Soldier was alright. If not only to break the haunting silence that made Sam nervous. 

The bullet made a dull, thunk sound on the shock blanket. Sighing, feeling like he was the one who'd just been operated on, Sam hung his head. Thankfully it was all in one piece. Soldier glanced at the bullet for a second before going back to looking at Sam. Sam gave him a nod "Good work." He forced words that weren't as overwhelmed as he felt. 

The whole situation was so unusual, Sam didn't even notice the lack of blood gushing from the wound. There was some, but definitely not as much as he would have expected. Sam's removed his fair share of bullets from just about every body part that a bullet could get lodged in and he's never seen such little blood.

Why complain about a blessing right? He now has a choice to make. Spend the next few hours doing surgery to repair the muscle tissue or just pack it until he can get Soldier to a hospital. He decided on option two. He could always change his mind but a break from kneeling on the ground and leaning over would be nice.

He packed the wound to another unnerving bout of silence and exhaled. "Alright. Why don't you close your eyes for a while and get some rest? I'm gonna clean up."

This was the first thing Soldier didn't immediately comply with. He just looked at Sam like he didn't understand the order. The same look he gave him when Sam offered the pain relief. That same feeling in his gut crept up on him. That maybe he doesn't understand requests of comfort because he's never heard them before.

Sam was trying to not get frustrated. All while feeling conflicted at treating this man like a dog. "Sleep, Soldier. You need the rest."

Blank expression. Sam tiredly grabbed at his pack, snatching up the secondary shock blanket, unrolling it and tossing it over Soldier like he was tucking him in. He then took off his jacket and bundled it up into a vague pillow shape, lifting Soldiers head and tucking it underneath. The man watched him with unblinking eyes. 

Sam crouched down by his head, lightly making a karate chopping motion towards Soldiers chest. "Sleep. Turn off, at ease soldier, deactivate. Is any of this working? I ain't gonna sing you a lullaby." 

He seemed to respond to "at ease." But that didn't compel him to sleep, he just kinda lay there looking aimless and despondent.

A familiar feeling rose in him and from there, the action was automatic. He was brought back to getting his nephews to calm down and how he would put his hand on their heads and pet them until they fell asleep. Sam's hand was already on Soldier's head by the time he caught up with why he did it.

Soldier was scanning his face now, irises picking a new spot on Sam's face to focus on, then switching to another. He took a deep breath as soon as Sam's hand stroked over the top of his head.

Rubbing his thumb over where his hair met his forehead, Sam started a slow rhythm, scratching his fingertips over the top of his head. He kept his voice low and calm. "Close your eyes."

Soldier sighed. A sweet sound of relief. Blinking his eyes closed slowly. Resting a hand on his chest, Sam mirrored his movements on his other hand, running his fingers over the part of Soldiers chest peeking out from above the blanket. Sam sat there, repeating the action, scanning over Soldiers resting face. He couldn't understand this situation. The guy acts like a robot. Sam worried that maybe he was acting against his will with the carrier collision. He just doesn't seem like a violent person. But then again, he's clean shaven, his hair looks like it had been washed at least semi recently, his teeth are white and well cared for. Hell, his chest has been shaved. It all screams a man who knew what he was doing and was well prepared for it. Yet Sam couldn't shake the feeling something was terribly wrong.

His eyes fell to the rest of Soldiers body and he peeled back the shock blanket just a little. He was covered in scars. All of which Sam could identify from the various weapons. Shotgun shells to rifle rounds. This guy jas been through it. Sam was really trying not to jump to conclusions but his chest was tightening the more he allowed himself to ponder what was going on here.

Finally. Sam heard the soft snoring. He could have cheered.  Now, he desperately needed a bath. He wasn't gonna have any luck here but thank god there was water because Sam had strung out nerves that would kill a bird.

He gave Soldier one last glance and figured if he was quick, there would be no problems.

He washed up more thoroughly, splashing cold water over his face, sighing at the relief that flowed down his back. He pressed his wet hands to the back of his neck, savouring the feeling, he took a seat on that same rock and put his elbows on his thighs and breathed. His nerves were still shot to hell. 

Beside the fact that it's been ages since he's had to do any kind of field surgery. Soldier acted like he couldn't even feel it when Sam knows for a fact he could. He had to be able to. Even someone with nerve damage would feel that. What's been done to this man that's made him so obedient, he doesn't react to something as primal as pain?

Sam doesn't know how long he was sitting up there for. He was waiting for his fingers to stop feeling numb from the stress. He thinks he dozed off at one point, awoken when he heard a voice from behind him. 

"Sam? You out here?"

Torres. He could hear his boots trudging through the leaves. He must be close to where Soldier is.

Sam was about to call out when he heard the sound of feet thudding quickly across the ground and Joaquín yelping in shock. 

"Holy sh--" his voice cut off, followed by the sound of tumbling and struggling and a panicked "Sam?!" 

Sam was already darting back, leaping over the rocks and sprinted back to their camp. Soldier was gone, Sam did a quick scan of the area and spotted them a couple dozen yards away. Joaquín on his back in the dirt with Soldier on top of him.

"Soldier stop!" Sam yelled as Soldier had his metal hand around Joaquín's throat, pushing him into the ground. One knee pressed into the middle of his torso. "He's a friend! Don't hurt him!"

Like the channel had been changed. Soldiers attack-dog demeanor switched to that same blank slate from before. He released Joaquín, stood up and turned to face Sam. 

Sam let out a heavy sigh. Soldier was moving like he was uninjured. He'd need to double check all the stitches to make sure none of them popped.

"Oh that's so fucking weird." Joaquín wheezed, coughing, holding his neck and pushing himself up with his other arm. He was side eyeing Soldier in shock when Sam rushed to his side to help him up. 

"Told you." Sam murmured, clasping his hand and pulling him to his feet. "You alright?" He tilted his pilots chin up to check for damage. It might bruise on the sides but nothing looked punctured.

Joaquín murmured a "Been better." Sam could feel Soldiers eyes on him. He turned his head and Soldier was watching the interaction intently, his eyes pinned on where Sam's fingers were gently holding Joaquín's jaw.

Torres had his eyes on Soldier, staring warily. "Dude, why's he staring like that?" He spoke out of the corner of his lips like Soldier wouldn't be able to hear him. 

"Kinda his whole thing." Sam murmured, shrugging. "Maybe he's still cautious of you?" Sam guessed. He wasn't sure though. It definitely seemed like he attacked Joaquín in some attempt to protect himself or maybe Sam, but his behavior now was different. His brow was slightly furrowed like there was a hint of irritation resting on his face. Then, Sam dropped his hands and Soldiers face relaxed, casting his gaze to Sam's eyes.

Torres let his eyes drift down to Soldier's various injuries, landing on the packed gunshot wound on his thigh. "How the hell is he standing up?"

"Like I said earlier. He's not right."

Joaquin spoke out of the side of his mouth again. "Feels like an understatement now I'm seein' it myself." He kept his voice quiet. "But also if you're right, this guy killed like eight people so shouldn't we be more careful?"

Sam knew that was the smart thing to do. Be cautious around this strange, ostensibly dangerous man. But that same creeping feeling urged him to confirm something.

"Soldier, raise your right hand." Sam said suddenly. Soldier did it. Immediately raising his arm above his head. Joaquín's eyes widened near comically. 

Sam rubbed his hand over his face, directing Soldier back to camp. "Okay. Drop it. Go back and lie down. Get off that leg." His voice leaned more heavily into order than request and Soldier instantly walked in the direction of their makeshift camp, not looking back. 

"So fucking weird..." Joaquín whispered as they both watched the man simply walk away after attacking Torres.

"You see anything on the way in or out?" Sam brought the topic back to their original mission. Finding out what was going on with these ships. 

Joaquin rubbed his neck gingerly. "Nothing out of the ordinary. CC got back to me. Still waiting for ID on the atlas." 

"Well Soldier clearly didn't want the atlas flying around either." Sam huffed, hands on his hips. Joaquín gave him a quizzical look and Sam hid a more awkward reaction. "He won't tell me his name..." he said quietly. Joaquín raised his eyebrows, nodding in a mock joy. 

"Oh! Normal!"

"Kid--" he said warningly, immediately giving up. They had walked into the middle of something. What? Sam had absolutely no idea. But whatever or whoever was responsible for Soldier being...the way he is, Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know. "How far out did you land?"

"It's a bit of a walk but it's clear." Joaquín nodded down the path he'd arrived from, the forest filled with yellowing trees, sunlight poking through the branches. "We can go whenever you're ready." He put his eyes on Soldier's back, his expression growing unsure. 

"Are we, uh...taking him with us?" Joaquín's gaze shifted to Sam and his superior had his eyes on the man as well.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Sam shrugged helplessly. "Well we can't leave him here."

Torres made a high pitched noise that trialed into his words. "You sure? We could just put a sign around his neck that says Free Guard Dog and move on with our lives?"

Sam knows he's joking but he gave him a tired stare regardless. "There's something wrong with him Torres. He acts like he doesn't-- have free will. It's unsettling." In the near distance, Soldier reached the camp and lay down obediently.

The pilot shrugged helplessly, struggling to get on the same page. "What? You sayin' he was like-- hypnotized into crashing his plane or something?"

"He sure acts like it." Sam half snapped, sighing and rubbing another hand down his face, stopping at his mouth.

Torres blew out a slow puff of air. "Dunno if that's gonna fly with the Commander. He blew up a carrier, they're gonna wanna take him in. Doubt they'll be as empathetic with him as you're bein'." He nodded his head to either side. "Plus y'know. Unless there's another guy with a metal arm going around assassinating presidents..."

Sam gritted his teeth behind his lips. "Well he barely speaks, so I doubt they're gonna get anything out of him anyway." A thought occured to him. An intrusive thought that would get him demoted if any higher ups found out about it.

Everything going through Sam's head at this moment is absolutely not proper procedure and is so incredibly illegal but his conscious is screaming at him. He can't let Soldier anywhere near their base. 

Torres is right, there's no way in hell any of his superiors will care that Solder seems hypnotized at best, completely brainwashed at worst. They'll just wanna know how it happened, what his presence means for the sanctity of their nation, who they're going to war with because of the unsanctioned military actions. Soldier will get interrogated and thrown in a hole. Or he'll snap and try to fight his way out, getting himself killed. Sam stopped in his tracks, Joaquín doing the same.

After a pause that dragged on, the two of them standing there in the chill. Sam stayed looking at Soldier. "Torres you trust me, right?"

Joaquín sighed so heavily, his shoulders drooped. "...Yeah." He said regretfully. He knew Sam only asked that when he had already made up his mind and would not be swayed to change it.

Sam nodded, more to himself than Joaquín. "I need you to drop us off."

Joaquín held in a groan. "Where?"

Taking a deep, self assuring inhale through his nose, Sam finalized his thoughts. "Haven't decided yet. Just not back at base."

Joaquín's face tensed, slowly shaking his head. "My guy, if you go AWOL--"

"I'm not." Sam said quickly, firmly. "I just-- I need some time to figure out what's going on with him before I take it through the legal channels." If he can get some solid proof that Soldier needs help and not interrogation and imprisonment, then he can let whoever else who wants to get involved, do so.

Torres sucked in his lips and nodded. "Well I'm sure this will be an exciting story to tell a girl on my next leave." He spoke like he was holding his breath. Sam clapped him hand on his back.

"You won't need to do anything else. I'll deal with it on my own." He owed him big time. He knew he could count on Torres but he didn't want to take advantage of his eagerness to help Sam with literally anything he asks.

Joaquín's stare turned indignant. "Well obviously I'm not leaving you alone forever with that guy. I'll be on standby if you need me." He sounded reluctant and yet stubbornly agreeing that he'd already made up his mind. 

They kept walking until they reached the camp, Joaquín giving Soldier a wide birth, sticking to the edge of the tree, looking around the area. "Nice place you got here." He chirped, not expecting a response, just talking for the sake of talking. To fill the silence.

Sam walked up to Soldier, he was lying with his arms at his sides, staring up at the sky like he was in standby mode. Sam swallowed hard looking down at him. He crouched down and Soldier's eyes snapped to him in a second, looking up expectantly. Sam looked over the stitches. Miraculously, it didn't look like any had popped or even pulled. There wasn't a concerning amount of blood coming from the packed gun shot wound either.

Sam tightened his lips, afraid of the answer to the question he hadn't asked yet. But he didn't want Soldier not mentioning his discomfort anymore. "Soldier. Tell me the truth." He paused, staring into those attentive, pliant blue eyes. "Are you in pain?"

"Yes." His response was blunt, flat.

Sam let out a sigh that came from deep in his diaphragm. "Okay. In that case I need you to stay still until it's time for us to move, alright? We need you healthy and preferably not in pain." He gently touched his palm to Solder's shoulder. Soldier took a deep breath as soon as their skin made contact, eyes gazing up at him like Sam held the answer to every question he could ask.

Sam leaned back and sighed at Soldiers dirty, blood stained clothes. They didn't exactly have another option other than walking him around in his underwear. Sam helped him get dressed, not doing the belt up yet and spoke over his shoulder to Torres as he tied his boots. "How long is 'a bit of a walk'?" He quoted Joaquín's words from earlier and his pilot shrugged. 

"Forty minutes? Give or take." 

Sam nodded, moving to his pack and pulling out another dose of painkiller. "Roll onto your side Soldier." 

He did and Sam pulled his waistband down enough to get to the top of his butt, just below his hip. "Gonna feel a lil poke." He said it automatically, his other patients usually appreciate the warning. He injected the painkiller and nodded to himself. "That should make our trek a little more comfortable for you. We're still gonna take it easy. No speed walking." 

Joaquín mused from behind him "Probably closer to an hour then." Sam started to pack up his things, leaving the shock blanket Soldier was laying on for last, giving the meds a chance to do their thing. 

"Alright." He made sure no packaging had blown away into the bushes. When he glanced back, Soldier was still laying there with his pants and belt undone. Sam almost forgot that this guy would stop breathing if Sam told him to. 

"Do yourself up. Time to go." Sam nodded to the path Joaquín pointed out. At the instruction, Soldier fixed up his pants and belt, pushing himself to his feet. Sam took the shock blanket and wiped it down a little, before folding it up and stuffing it into his pack. Sam turned to Joaquín. "Lead the way."

Sam had offered his arm to Soldier to help him walk,  but Soldier was busy watching their surroundings. He stuck close to Sam like a bodyguard, his head snapping to sounds Sam and Joaquín couldn't even hear. 

Joaquín, who was walking a few steps ahead to keep out of Soldiers way while he patrolled, stopped walking for a second to let Sam catch up. "So have you decided where I'm taking you two then? Do you have a secluded cabin in mind?" His eyes stayed on Soldier, who had apparently heard something off to the side, stalking over to check behind a tree.

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Are there any towns nearby? Something small-ish?" His plan was to drop Soldier off at a motel for a night so Sam could go sign off at the base. Also organize his excuse for why he was going to be gone to feed to his commander.

Joaquín thought about his answer. "Yeah. Heavy on the small. Got a population of maybe five hundred."

"Perfect." He exhaled tiredly, biting the inside of his lip. "Look Torres, I'm sorry. I know I'm risking a lot on a hunch--"

Joaquín raised a hand to cut him off. "That's why I love ya' Sam. That big beautiful heart of yours." He swung an arm over Sam's shoulders in a half hug as they walked. "For what it's worth, I agree it's weird. I mean it doesn't take long to notice that guy is--" he was about to gesture to Soldier to make a point and paused. Soldier was staring daggers at Joaquín. If it were possible to sear a hole in his forehead with a glare alone...

Sam followed the gaze and spent a second trying to decipher what was going through Soldiers head. Joaquín was not so subtlety hiding behind Sam.

Sam quirked up an eyebrow at Soldier. "Soldier it's fine." He tried. He compared it to earlier when he made the same face as Sam was holding Joaquín's face to check his neck. 

"Is he being protective or jealous right now?" Joaquín twisted his lips "I hope it's the first one, you're like my dad."

Sam slowly turned back to him. "How old do you think I am?"

He shrugged. "Dad age."

"Not old enough to have a kid your age."

Joaquín rolled his eyes. "Fine, uncle age." 

Funnily, after listening to the conversation, Soldier's stare seemed to relax. Though he was still not a fan of Joaquín touching Sam. The pilot made a show of removing his hands and stepping away, then Soldier went back to what he was doing before.

Joaquín murmured under his breath. "Can't tell if you got yourself a guard dog or a really shitty boyfriend."

"Torres."

"I didn't say anything."

Not long after, Sam could see their plane in the distance. He felt a relief, saddled with an anticipation for a task he hadn't even fully comprehended in him mind. He felt crazy for considering any of this but Soldier was surrounded by red flag, after red flag that Sam couldn't ignore. He looked back to where he thought Soldier was and saw nothing but forest. Furrowing his eyebrows, he fully turned around, flinching with a start when Soldier snapped his hand out to grab his arm.

"Jesus-- What are--"

"We're being followed." Soldier said plainly.

Joaquín shook his head, looking startled "No I-- The area was clear. I wouldn't have landed here if it wasn't."

Soldier kept his voice low, gesturing for Joaquín to do the same. "They aren't trying to close in. They're keeping their distance. The plane is a trap." He spoke so strangely. His sentences didn't flow. He made statements, speaking in short bursts like he was speaking from a list. 

"You sound awfully sure." Sam whispered and a flicker of something flashed over Soldiers blank face when he locked eyes with Sam.

Sighing, feeling his nerves kick up again, Sam looked over to the plane sitting in the middle of the clearing. Dense forest surrounded it but Sam would never know there was anyone around if Soldier didn't sound so certain. "So you're saying they're watching the plane?"

Soldier simply nodded. Joaquín looked guilty and Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault kid. You did everything you were supposed to." 

Joaquín huffed out a sigh, looking over his shoulder at the plane. "Do we make a run for it?" 

"Hold up." He turned to Soldier. "Do you know who they are?"

Soldier stared on stoically. His eyes gazed over to a specific point on the treeline, like he could see something the other two couldn't. "They've come to get me."

Sam held up a hand, closing his eyes for a moment. "Who? Are they your...team? What do you mean?" Whoever they were, are they the ones responsible for him acting the way he does?

Soldier continued to explain matter-of-factly. "I failed to report back, so they're here to collect me." His vague explanation just made Sam huff. He had a lot of questions, but one stood out among the rest.

"...Do you want them to?"

Soldiers eye twitched. He gave Sam that same confused look, slightly tilting his head and Sam just knew wanting wasn't an option he had. If he did want anything. Sam doesn't think it would matter.

Sam locked eyes with him. Trying to speak past this stoic wall to the man underneath. "Soldier. Do you want to go with them?"

Soldiers eyes went out of focus, looking through Sam, his irises trembling. Sam wanted to reach out to him, ask him what was going on, if he was safe, just explain something clearly instead of this vague nonsense. 

Sam was about to try again when Soldier's eyes went steely, locking onto something over Sam's shoulder.

"Of course he does. He is needed for another mission."

A thick Russian accent broke the tension and added a new layer of panic. "He wants what we want."

Sam whipped around, pulling Joaquín back by his arm, stepping forward to stand in front of his young pilot.

"Who are you?" Sam made sure he was in front of Soldier too. It was a group of seven, emerging from the woods around them. Sam's heart skipped a beat. He didn't hear any of them. How didn't he hear even one of them?

The leader dragged his eyes up and down Sam and Joaquín. "Ah. Americans. This does not concern you. Relinquish the asset and be on your way."

"Asset? Wh--" Sam's voice caught in his throat and his eyes snapped to Soldier. He was staring at the ground, eyes wide, sweating. 

The man in front sighed, bored. "Do I not speak clear enough? Return the asset to us and we might not kill you."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You think that's your choice to make huh?"

The Russian mans lip twitched. "The Asset is property of Hydra. You will return him to us." He repeated, looking at Sam like he was a minor inconvenience to him. 

Sam's jaw tightened. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to, but I'm not letting you go anywhere with anyone. So you and Hydra can fuck off."

The man grunted, turning his head sharply to Soldier. He started speaking in Russian. Sam couldn't catch all of it. He heard the words obey, or maybe disobey, return, base, handle... Handler? Whatever he was saying, he was speaking directly to Soldier. When Soldier didn't lift his eyes from the ground or respond, the man groaned loudly, almost a roar. He snapped something in Russian to the men behind him and half of them prepped what looked like dart guns, the other half batons that crackled with electricity. "I told them it had been too long since the last reset." The leader hissed to himself. 

Watching them prep to attack, Sam put a hand behind him on his weapon. Joaquín and Sam both had pistols on them. Rather concealed among the rest of their gear. They were only to unholster them in moments of absolute necessity. This was beginning to seem like one of those moments.

Sam looked to Soldier, face cracking with concern. "Soldier? What did he say to you? Are you alright?" He spoke right as a shot of air fired from one of the dart guns.

--

THE ASSET MUST OBEY THE STRIKE TEAM

The strike team leaders words pierced the assets defenses with a pointed accuracy. Demanding compliance, demanding the asset does as it was made for.

OBEY STRIKE TEAM

--*_--*___*NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL_..__*__-

_*--__**-*-_

DIRECTIVE CONFLICTION.

PRIORITIZE

PRIOR__*---ITIZE 

Warm smile, warm hands, warmer eyes. Gentle, caring...

"Well that can't be right. You gotta have a name. What am I supposed to call you?"

A warmth piercing the cold. Echoes of something beyond the numb abyss.

...--*_____.--*______...--*______...*

NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL.

Chapter Text

Frustration and panic hung in the air as scientists and agents alike hurried around. The asset listened for the sound of Hydra's personnel hissing to one another, rushing in and out. It stayed where it was told to stay, standing to attention, staring ahead.

"It will be fine." The head scientist spoke firmly, teeth gritted. "We can still send him out."

The second voice belonged to another scientist, flanked by a member of the strike team. "The Atlas is on the move now. We don't have time to reset him--"

The head scientist, a much older man than the second, held up a hand, cutting them off. "We do not need to. I have been in charge of the Assets maintenance for decades. He shows no sign of defect--"

The strike team leader stepped forward, pointing a finger. "You don't have to deal with him when he goes fucking crazy and runs away on mission." He threw his hands up, gesturing to the secure lab around them. "He can't go very far when he goes nuts in here, can he? I'm the one that has to chase him across the damn countr-" the other scientist put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back, taking over the argument. Speaking clearly with a forced calm.

"We are simply saying it's too risky. He hasn't been reset since he was last put under. If he gets injured, his synapses could--"

A new voice entered, a voice that the asset locked onto, as the other voices faded into muffled sounds in its mind. "The Atlas is in the air right now. The soldier goes. Do we understand each other?" Gerard Stone, a tall man in his fifties, the leader of this American Hydra base and the Assets current handler. He entered the room flanked by agents, staring pointedly at the two arguing for pause on the operations.

"Sir--" the second scientist tried but was met with a palm raised in their direction. Stone walked past them all, a humourless smile on his face as he approached the Asset.

He walked right up to the Asset. "On your knees." His lazy, flat tone rang like alarm bells in the Assets head, springing it into action. The Asset dropped to it's knees without hesitation. Rough fingers curled under its chin and yanked the Assets head to look up at Stone. His dull grey eyes stared down at the Asset, dragging up and down. The grip firmed and Stone forced a thumb beyond the Assets lips, pressing down on its bottom teeth to open its mouth. The Asset waited for instruction.

He lingered, pushing the thumb in further and hooking it behind the Assets teeth. He then made a show of yanking the Assets head from side to side, up and down.

The Asset stayed pliant.

Stone smirked, wiping his thumb on the Assets cheek and waved his other hand flippantly to the others in the room. "I could slip my cock into his mouth right now and he wouldn't bite. He's good to go."

The strike team leader angrily muttered a string of curse words, storming out of the room. The second scientist gave one final plea.

"Sir, please-- He's fine now, but if he were to be seriously wounded, there's a chance his mind will snap itself into a self preservation--"

"You're dismissed, agent." Stone cut them off harshly, still staring down at the Asset, smirking with amusement at the Assets eyes still being locked onto him. Waiting patiently.

The scientists protests were muffled to the Asset as they were escorted out. The only voice that broke through the haze was Stones. "Stand up." The Asset stood. Stone was slightly shorter than the Asset. Stone tipped his own chin up so he could speak down his nose at the Asset.

Stone spoke the activation words.

The Assets mind funnelled, the haze parting, zeroing in on the speaker. Every other sound drained from existence.

"The Winter Soldier will destroy the Atlas and kill everyone on board. Upon completion, you will return to base. Heil Hydra." 

The assets expression hardened. Mind set on it's new purpose. 

"Heil Hydra."

__*--___*-*_-**__--___*----------------------

Searing, stinging, burning, vision blurring, seeing doubles...

MISSION COMPLETE. THE ASSET MUST RETURN TO BASE

Gasping, choking, smoke stinging it's eyes, suffocating. 

Blood is gushing from its side. The Asset can feel it's heartbeat in the wound.

Head pounding, consciousness fading in and out, it's eyes flicker into focus for a moment.

*--___** ....where_-*--am I?-*_--___ 

Hands tearing at the mask, desperate clawing to no avail, chest aching, throat tightening.

"..I gotcha...c'mere.."

Gentle hands and a calming voice.

"... I'm helping you.."

*

-.

.

*----......

The strike team leaders voice fell short, only one voice breaking through the fog.

"What did he say to you? Are you alright?"

The Assets mind funnelled on its task

PROTECT AT ALL COST

--

Soldier's head snapped up and he swatted the dart out of the air with lightning reflexes, speeding forward, picking a palm sized rock off the ground and pitching it at the man who fired. It collided with the center of his forehead with a crack, the man flopping to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Holy shit-" Joaquín spoke Sam's thoughts as the latter grabbed his pilot and ducked off to the side as more darts started flying. Soldier raised his metal arm in the way of another dart, it pinged off his forearm and he caught it out of the air, throwing it like a skipping stone into the leg of another man. 

Sam put a hand in the middle of Joaquín's back. "Run for the plane. Get the engine going."

"What about you?" He hissed desperately over his shoulder as the men went to swarm Soldier.

Sam was flicking his eyes between Joaquín and Soldier. "They don't care about us, they want Soldier. I have to help him. Go." The two shared a nod and Joaquín made a run for it. As expected, he was ignored, all eyes were on Soldier as he got within arms reach of one of the taser wielding men, deftly dodging his strike, stealing his holstered dart gun and shooting him pointblank in the chest with it. Another man swung at him and he grabbed him by the throat with his metal arm, lifting and choke slamming him into the ground. He was holding his own, but there was still more.

The leader was walking up on Soldier with a trained confidence. Sam stepped up, pointing his pistol right at him. "Stop. Hands up." Sam kept his voice clear but hardened. He is not fucking around.

The leader gritted his teeth, turning around slowly. "This is not your business American." 

Sam trained his gun on his arm. "I'm making it my business. Drop the taser."  

The man scoffed, beginning to lower the taser, before lunging forward and swinging upwards at Sam, going for an uppercut with the baton. Sam fired a single shot to his upper arm. He reeled back, hissing something in Russian and dropping the baton. Soldier whipped his head around to the sound of the gunshot, looking for Sam. Distracting him long enough for another of the men to jab him square in the back with the tip of his taser. 

Soldier screamed, falling to a knee, the man behind him pushing harder, the baton crackling loudly against Soldiers back. It was so much louder than a taser should be. Sam moved his target to him, firing once, hitting his leg. Yelping as he dropped the taser, the man fell to the ground clutching at his thigh. 

Soldier gasped as the pain subsided, whipping around and kicking the man behind him right in the face. Punching another that approached with his metal fist, knocking him out cold.

Sam heard the plane whir to life and called out to Soldier. "C'mon! We're leaving--" Sam had the air knocked out of his lungs as the leader knee'd him square in the stomach, followed by a sharp pain in the back of his head, the butt of his heavy baton cracking down on him. His vision blurred and he fell to his knees. A heavy boot planted on the back of his neck, stepping on him until his face hit the ground. 

More Russian conversations. The man above him was yelling, presumably at Soldier. The conversation ended quickly when Soldier snarled, flying at the man and knocking him to the ground, the sound of fists impacting with flesh rang out as Sam pushed himself up to his knees, his head pounding. He looked to see Soldier punching the man in the face over, and over. Senseless and violent. By the time Sam had sat up, the leader was no longer moving. Sam gathered up his strength to speak. "Soldier stop-- don't kill anyone." He managed to force out even though speaking made the hammering in his skull worse. 

Soldier froze mid punch, hesitating before releasing his hold on the front of the leaders vest, letting him flop against the ground. He stood up and b-lined to Sam, grabbing his pistol on the way. Soldier hoisted Sam to his feet like he weighed nothing, holding him close with one hand, Sam's pistol in the other. 

One of the men he had knocked down got back up and Soldier deftly shot him in the leg before he even had a chance to fully raise his dart gun. Doing the same to one of the men he had simply knocked out, making sure he won't get back up.

"Okay, stop. They're down. Let's get out of here." Sam breathed through the pain, holding a hand to the back of his head, his other arm over Soldiers shoulders. Soldier nodded and helped Sam to the plane, seemingly forgetting all about his own injuries once again.

When they reached the open door, Soldier, with one arm around Sam's waist, grabbed the top of the doorframe, stepped a foot up into the plane and just lifted Sam up along with him effortlessly, stunning Sam into stillness. Soldier slid the door closed and Joaquín wasted no time taking off. 

"You okay Sam?" Joaquín's voice came through the comms so he could be heard from the cockpit. Sam was still mildly shocked, securely wrapped in Soldiers hold, chest to chest with Soldiers arm slung around his waist, his left metal arm holding tightly to the handle on the roof, keeping them upright as they made their ascent. All Sam had to do was lean into Soldier. He was as good as a harness. He clicked the button on his shoulder. 

"I'll live." The dizziness was fading somewhat, just getting replaced with a searing pain, an uncomfortable warmth dripping down the back of his neck.

The comms clicked in his ear again. "Are we gonna talk about how our guy just fucking John Wick'd his way outta that?" 

Sam was still processing that part. He turned his head the tiny bit necessary to be directly face to face with Soldier, he had to lean his head back a little so their faces didn't brush. "That's some... impressive strength you got there Soldier." Sam didn't know what to think. He just scooped Sam up like he was someone half Sam's size. He hasn't been picked up since he was a teenager. Not to mention the way he was throwing those men around.

Soldier said nothing. Sam should know by now that small talk isn't a part of his "directive".

The plane reached the desired altitude and evened out, flying steadily. He gave Soldiers chest a pat and Soldier dropped his arms back to his side. Sam then pointed to the seats "Go sit. Let's take another look at you." There's absolutely no way his stitches survived all that. Soldier did as he was told and sat down on the bench running along the side. Sam eased himself down to crouch in front of him. "Lift up your shirt."

Soldier did and, yep. Fresh blood seeping through the gauze. No doubt hiding plenty of popped stitches underneath. Once again, not as much blood as Sam was expecting so he was counting his blessings.

"Are you in pain?" He wondered if the order to tell Sam the truth from earlier was still in play, or if he had to say it again. Soldier nodded. 

"Yes." He even allowed himself to wince when Sam pulled back the gauze to peek underneath. There's no point looking at it now, he can't do anything to fix it on a plane. 

Sam smiled sympathetically. A part of him was weirdly relieved at the wince of pain. "Can you hold on until we land?"

Soldier nodded and Sam gave his uninjured leg a pat. Remembering to tell him he can put his shirt down after he stood up and sat down across from him. 

The remainder of the short trip was silent, Sam doing his best to ignore Soldiers eyes planted on him. Sam had no idea what to do. He'd had his suspicions that something was wrong confirmed, but now that just left him more unsure of his next move. Does he just let Soldier follow him around? Will more of Hydra show up to grab him again? And the big one being! Who was Soldier before Hydra got their hands on him and turned him into "the Asset"?

Sam leaned forward, arms on his knees, moving slowly from the blunt force trauma he got from that big Russian brute. "Do they have a way of tracking you Soldier? Hydra?" 

"Yes." 

Sam swallowed. "Do you know how?"

"There's a tracker in the back of my neck." Blunt and monotonous as always.

Sam's stomach turned, steeling himself right away. He could be sad for Soldier later, he needed to get that out.

He forced his voice to steady. "Right. Well we can't let that stay there." He wouldn't be able to do it in the plane. It would have to wait until he could lie Soldier down somewhere with more light and access to water. 

"We're coming up on that town Sam. Two minutes." Joaquín warned. Sam gave the affirmative and he thinks his brain finally started coming to terms with the fact that he had made this decision and was following through. Everytime his uncertainty started to creep in, make him question what he was doing. All he had to do was look at Soldier. He's calling him Soldier for fucks sake. The man doesn't know his own name. The only people who know him, refer to him as a thing rather than a person.

He needs to follow through.

Joaquín landed in a bare field about a ten minute walk from the town. Sam did his best to wipe up the visible blood off himself and Soldier before they entered a public space. It was early afternoon and they were going to stick out anyway.

It's a sweet place. Surrounded by farmland. There's a road that cut right through to connect them to the main road nearby, but most of the areas were intended to be walkable. Cobblestone walkways lined with shops and cafes owned by the locals, stretching out to other commercial businesses, a grocer and a school. Sam thought it was perfect, though he could feel Joaquín getting bored beside him. 

"Wow, not even one Wendy's huh?" He had the gall to look sympathetic and Sam ignored him, looking for anything that looked like a motel. He'd settle for a bed and breakfast.

They didn't have to walk long before Sam spotted the Motel. There was a single storey, U-shaped building where the rooms were and a separate building that functions as the front desk. Sam looked to the other two. "Stay here for a sec while I pay for a room." He directed mainly at Soldier, then turned to Joaquín. "Keep an eye on him would'ya?"

Both of them had an adverse reaction to that order, making an eerily similar face of disapproval. Though Soldier directed his at Joaquín.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, planting mildly stern eyes on Joaquín. "Kid. Please." His expression softened when he turned to Soldier. "Just stay with Torres for a minute. I'll be right back." 

He walked into the front office just in time to miss Soldier glare at Joaquín, the pilot giving him an irritated shrug in return.

They'd be fine. Fortunately, Soldier wasn't visibly covered in blood unless you looked really close. Unfortunately, the three of them stood out, so Sam tried to be quick.

He got a room with two beds and figured this would be as good a place as any to stash a really strong, brainwashed, possible...slave? Sam was still theorizing. The woman behind the desk looked about Sam's age, she glanced outside to where Joaquín was pointedly not watching Soldier, and Soldier was peering inside at Sam.

"You boys on a road trip?"

Sam let himself fall back into his small town charm. "Is it the smell?" He plucked at his jacket which almost certainly did reek at least a little.

She waved a hand in front of her face. "I wasn't gonna say anything." She played along with a smile. Turning around to grab a set of keys off the wall.

He slipped his card back into his pocket with a smile. "We're airforce. We're on-- layover from a training mission. Got a free few days so we figured we'd see the sights." Believable enough.

She looked impressed, smiling on the border of coyly. "Well in that case, Welcome. Happy to have you." She handed him a key Sam gave her a wave, heading back to the boys.

Soldier's eyes were on the door the from the moment it closed, to when it finally opened again with Sam returning. Sam sighed. "It's okay, I'm back. Are you happy?"

Soldier didn't speak but he did basically walk on Sam's heels while following Sam to their room, he was so close. Coming up on room five, he opened the door and held it open for the other two. It was actually a really nice room. Looked clean at the very least. Two beds, a bathroom, a microwave, a kettle, a small fridge and a TV. 

"So are we gonna unpack how we almost died?" Joaquín sat himself down on a bed, looking up at Sam as he set his bag down at the side of the bed. Apparently Sam didn't reply fast enough so Joaquín kept going.

"By Russians! Russian-- hitmen?? Is that what they were? It that what he is??" He pointed to Soldier who was standing just beyond the door. Sam nodded him towards the other bed. 

"Take off the dirty shit and go lie down." Sam spoke over his shoulder at Soldier, sorting out his pack. Soldier immediately started stripping, handing Sam his clothes and laying himself down. Not relaxing, just staring at the ceiling.

"I'm just glad my overthinking was warranted..." Sam half muttered as he retrieved everything he needed to fix Soldiers stitches and get that tracker out.

Sam stood and looked to Joaquín. "Do you think you can look into who or what Hydra is when you're back at base?" 

Joaquín clicked his tongue. "Maybe? Depends on what their whole deal is. A super secret organization with broody assassins at their disposal might be hard to get info on."

Looking down at Soldiers still form, eyes following Sam around. Sam turned back to Joaquín. "Can you give it a try?"

"You're the boss." Joaquín snapped his fingers and pointed two finger guns at him, but his heart really wasn't in it. Poor kid was tired. Also, Sam may have just realised that was the first time he's seen real danger. He's such a trooper, it's easy for Sam to forget how young he is.

 Sam exhaled, clapping Joaquín on the shoulder. "You did great kid. You wanna take a nap?" Joaquín put on a chipper smile, stretching his arms above his head.

"Nah, I'm good." He shrugged, his head tilting to see Sam's face again. "What's the plan now?"

Sam glanced from Joaquín, to Soldier, breathing a tired sigh. The day's events are catching up on him. "First up, I've gotta redo his stitches."

Joaquín craned his neck to see the back of Sam's head. "Shouldn't we deal with you first?"

Sam blinked and went touch the back of his head and that's when it started hurting again. He'd forgotten about it even though it was still bleeding. Joaquín have him a short, dry laugh. "This takes you paying more attention to everyone else before yourself to a whole new level." A kept chuckling as Sam's sigh. "Just a minor concussion. No big deal." he mocked Sam's voice and Sam was suddenly too tired to retort. He let the kid have this one.

Joaquín got to work and at some point, Soldier got up without being told and stood behind Joaquín. But he did it so silently, Joaquín didn't notice until he went to check the time on the bedside table.

"Gah!- Jesus Christ." Joaquín managed not to jump and instead just went completely still in his shock.

Joaquín's peripheral was filled with Soldier, either assessing his work on the back of Sam's head or making sure Joaquín wasn't trying to elaborately assassinate Sam. Joaquín rolled his shoulders trying to self soothe his discomfort. "...Sam, could you tell him to stop hovering?"

Sam reached out blindly to pat his arm. "Soldier. He's helping. You gotta chill." At the contact, Soldier took a step back, but didn't take his eyes off Torres. 

"Could at least hold a light." Joaquín muttered, focusing on the next stitch. The wound on Sam's head didn't need that many stitches but Joaquín also didn't have a lot of practice in this, so he needed double the time Sam would.

When Sam got to fixing up Soldier, it was less of a horror show under the gauze than he was expecting. A surprisingly easy fix. Once that was done, Joaquín breathed a sigh of relief. "Nice, nice... We done here then?"

Sam shook his head. "Not quite. He has a tracker in the back of his neck. We need to get it out."

Joaquín's jaw hung open, blinking before he thought of anything to say. "What kinda...James Bond movie are we stuck in right now?" He breathed, watching Sam grab his bag and move it to the side of Soldiers bed. He pulled out his med pack and got all the sharp stuff ready to go. He told Soldier to sit up so he could put the shock blanket underneath him to protect the motel sheets.

"Lie on your stomach." 

Sam put a folded towel under Soldiers forehead, just enough so his nose and mouth weren't squashed into the mattress. Soldier lay down and Sam waved Joaquín over. "I'll need you to clean up the blood so I can see what I'm doing."

He pressed his thumb along the back of Soldiers neck. He could feel it not far under the skin but not exactly close to the surface either. It was similar to the bar contraceptive that gets injected into the arm. Removing it should be the same process. An incision, pull it out, a few more stitches. It'll be easy.

He angled the lamp on the beside table towards them and got to work. "Stay still." Sam paired his words with a comforting pat on the back of his shoulder. 

The small capsule shaped tracker was basically fused into his body. Sam had some guesses as to how long it had been in there for. Slowly removing it with his surgical tweezers, he leaned back and sighed, staring at the tiny thing pinched between the tweezer tips.

 He put it ontop of his pack, not sure what else it do with it right now. "Good work kid. I can do this part on my own." Only a few stitches necessary. Then maybe Soldier can finally have some extended rest time.

As he prepped his equipment, Sam called over to his pilot in the bathroom, washing his hands. "Could you make a run to the nearest store and pick up some food for this guy? Enough for a few meals. Maybe a new shirt and pants if you can find any." Sam pointed him to his jacket on the bed where his card was and Joaquín took it, slipping it into his pocket. 

"Sure thing. Uh-- What are we gonna do about that?" He pointed to the tracker "Stick it on a cargo train? Throw it out a window at five thousand feet?" Sam knew he was going to keep listing options unless he shut it down.

"I'll...figure that out by the time you're back. Probably."

Once he was gone, Sam made quick work of the incision and stuck a bandage over it. "There you go." He cleaned up all his gear and returned the bed to its natural state. "Get under the covers."

Sam picked up the tiny capsule tracker between his thumb and fingers and just stared at it while Soldier slipped under the sheets. He put it in his pants pocket and zipped it up. Didn't want to go losing it in the motel room and totally defeat the purpose of removing it.

Once again, Soldier was laying down because he'd been told to, not because he was relaxing. Sam sat down on the side of the bed. "Can I get you something? Water? Another pillow?"

Soldier's eyes drifted to him. Sam's mind was on the packed bullet hole. He was gonna have to fix that up but he really didn't have the time. It would be fine to leave it for a day. He gently picked up Soldiers hand and pressed his fingers to his wrist, listening to his pulse. Strong, steady heartbeat. That was something hard to ignore. Despite all the physical trauma he'd experienced for the last few hours, he looked completely healthy. He had none of the symptoms Sam would expect from someone who's lost as much blood as Soldier. 

He placed Soldiers arm over his stomach, positioning him into something that looked more comfortable, more for his own peace of mind than Soldier's comfort to be honest. 

"How are you feeling? Is the pain the same? Less? More?" He tried speaking to him in a way that encouraged his direct, one word responses. At least he got replies when he did.

"The same." Soldier replied and Sam got up to get a few more things out of his bag. He checked his blood pressure, his pupil response, anything he could with what Sam had on him. Besides from his pupils only widening when Sam was in his line of sight, everything was solid. Better than average. Incredibly healthy. All he could think of is that he was probably hungry.

"You're a sturdy thing aren'tcha." He said more to himself than Soldier, knowing he wouldn't respond to that.

Sam's hand was resting on Soldier's chest, beside Soldiers. Sam felt the tiniest twitch of movement from one of Soldiers fingers, brushing against Sam's hand. 

Sam looked down at the calloused, overworked fingers and inched his hand closer, curling his fingers under Soldiers. When Soldier didn't move at all, Sam paused, letting his shoulders drop with a deep exhale. 

Sam doesn't know how to comfort him. If he wants to be comforted. What he wants at all. He's great at talking to patients, keeping them distracted, cheering them up. At the very least, he gauges how the patient wants to be treated. He has no idea with Soldier.

He isn't trained to care for someone who can't make choices for themselves. Everything he does to care for Soldier feels just left of okay. Is he not doing the same thing these Hydra people are? Making choices for him? 

 He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to overthink. It's not the same. All he can do is keep offering him options to try and encourage his autonomy. If he doesn't make a decision, as a professional, Sam can decide the best option for him. If Sam just focuses on his rest, recovery and general wellbeing, maybe Soldier will realize he doesn't have to obey anymore. 

Going long enough without a reply, Sam tried again. "Any luck remembering that name?" Sam retracted his hand, putting it back in his own lap. 

Just like before, Soldiers eye twitched, his eyes going out of focus, falling into a thousand yard stare right through Sam. 

He nodded, standing and patting his shoulder once. "It's okay. It'll come back to you." He didn't know if that was true. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

This time when Soldiers eyes snapped to Sam's face, the stoicism had faded. Sam couldn't help but think he looked more curious, maybe intrigued. Just a glimmer of an emotion through the mostly vacant expression.

What Sam wouldn't give to know who he was before.

"Close your eyes Soldier." He did. 

Sam hesitated. He just sat there and scanned over him. Watching for signs that Soldier was just laying there with his eyes closed, not trying to sleep. Slowly shuffling up closer to his chest, Sam leaned over him, reaching his hand up to brush his fingers over the top of Soldiers head. 

Soldier sighed. 

Sam kept it up until his body visibly relaxed, sinking into the mattress. He continued until he was certain he was in an at least a semi deep sleep. Anything is better than him just laying there in waiting mode.

Now for the next problem. He needed an excuse. Something to get him time off for the foreseeable future. Like any job, they only have a certain amount of annual leave in the airforce. Family emergencies however, have much more leeway. Depending on the severity, he could get weeks or months off. Since he doesn't know how much time he needs to help Soldier, this is the best option.

Sam opened and closed the door as quietly as he could and scrolled through his contacts. Landing on Sarah, he checked the time. She should be at home.

The phone rang a few times before she picked up. "What?"

He scoffed at the greeting. "Hello to you too."

"Hello is for brothers who didn't buy his nephew the most annoying toy on earth."

Sam pressed his lips together to stop himself laughing. "It's cute." He absolutely knew it was going to be annoying. Whole reason he bought it.

Her voice grew comically tense. "It repeats everything they say Sam. I can't even find where the batteries go in. I don't think it has any. I think it's powered by the trapped soul of the last mother who suffered it being in her home." He heard her flop onto either her bed or the couch, getting comfy for a call with her brother. As much as he would love to chat, he needs to get this sorted first.

"I wish I could say I was sorry but I also need a favour."

Sarah clicked her tongue "Uh huh. I can show you where to stick your favour." She only half meant it.

He sighed, dreading the mood change. "'fraid it's a serious one Sar. I really need you on this one." 

He heard her sit up, pausing. "...What happened?" He didn't mean to worry her. She gets worried enough whenever Sam is deployed. He tries to call as often as possible but it's not always possible.

"I don't even know where to start." He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He started walking away from the other rooms. "Long story short, I need you to lie to the military for me." 

"Oh finally, something easy. Your requests are usually so elaborate." Anyone who heard her tone might think she was completely genuine. In actuality, she simply operates at a level of sarcasm undetectable to an untrained ear.

"I know, I know. Look, something-- weird has come up, and I need some time away to sort it out." He looked around to make sure there were no witnesses to his odd conversation with no context. Odd with context to be fair. "I just need ya' to call and say you need me home. Make something up."

"Sam what the hell have you gotten yourself into?" She hissed, closing a door. She had most likely closed herself off in her bedroom so the boys couldn't hear her. 

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm helping someone who's in trouble. That's the simplest way I can explain it to you without saying anything confusing or concerning." He resisted the urge to start pacing while he talked. "I just need you to tell them that I'm needed home desperately. At the very least, they'll give me a transfer to the Keesler airforce base. It's a two hour drive from Delacroix. I'll be closer to you and the boys for when I'm done. Win-win." The thought crossed his mind that he has no idea how he would even be 'done' with this. Ideally Soldier gets his memories back and goes back to living his life but Sam doesn't know how long that's gonna take.

The goal right now is to convince the people who could arrest Soldier, that he deserves help. But if he can't do that before his leave is up...He doesn't know what he'd do with Soldier in that case, but he'd figure something out. Probably take him back to Delacroix? At least temporarily. Someone back home would probably be more than happy to house him but Sam wouldn't want to intrude like that. Also if Hydra has some alternative way of finding Soldier, he doesn't want the guy anywhere near his family.

At the end of his spiel, Sarah let out a long, heavy sigh. "Can you imagine how this conversation would go if I didn't love you?"

"I imagine I'd be crying or something."

Her next words were clear and intentional. "Are you safe?"

He smiled, hoping she could feel it. Hear it in his voice. "Don't worry about me. It'll make for a good story over drinks."

She huffed at the way he dodged her question but didn't press. "Alright. I'll come up with a real tear jerker."

"Thank you. I owe you."

"Yeah, just add it to the pile."

They talked for a bit longer and Sam thinks he quelled her concerns at least a little bit by the end of the call. She put Cass and AJ on and he felt a little lighter. They think he's so much cooler than he actually is. By the time they hung up, Sam raised his head to see Joaquín entering his field of vision. 

"Dude this place rules, everything is cheap as hell." Joaquín prepared the two bags like he was getting ready to do a show and tell with everything he bought.

"I'm sure they enjoyed your energy." Sam peered inside. He'd picked up some microwave meals, some snacks and fruit. The other bag had some clothes in it. This should be plenty. Ideally, he won't be by himself for long. 

"Oh they did." He grinned, nodding his head over this shoulder. "Old lady at the grocer gave me a free pineapple. Figured the cyborg could crack it open." Sam didn't even get a chance to voice his disapproval. 

"Dude, if I had a metal arm I would never have another problem. I'd be a human bottle opener. Coconuts? Easy. When two cups are like, suctioned together? Done. My mom's Tupperware that seals so tight it always hurts my fingers when I try to get inside--" Joaquín's list continued until they made it to the door. Sam shushed him and he kept listing at a whisper, unperturbed.

Sam checked the time. Soldier was veering into NASA nap territory. He could let him sleep for a little longer before he had to wake him up. He made sure he had everything he needed to return to base. 

"You sure he's gonna be okay on his own?" Joaquín started emptying the contents of the bag into the little fridge. Sam shook his head.

"No idea. Hypothetically, if I tell him not to go anywhere, or talk to anyone and just hang out here and eat and rest until I get back. Given what I've experienced from him this far, he should do it... Hypothetically." He glanced at Soldiers sleeping form. At the very least he can't be tracked so he should be safe here for a night on his own. Sam felt that discomfort rising in his chest again. He's a grown man, not a puppy. It felt so wrong fussing over him like this. Sam has to keep reminding himself that if he didn't give Soldier explicit instructions, he probably wouldn't move for eighteen hours.

He walked over and gently nudged Soldier awake. Soldier opened his eyes with a start, gasping and shooting upright. Sam put a hand on his chest, hoping to ease the panic. "Hey, hey, just me. You're all good."

Once Soldier saw Sam, he visibly calmed. The stoicism returned.

Sam smiled warmly at him. "I need you to take care of yourself for a bit. Shouldn't be longer than a night. There's food and water, bathroom is right there..." He trailed off when he noticed Soldiers stoic expression showed that same hint of confusion. Sam sucked in his lips and scratched the back of his head.

"Can you take care of yourself?"

Soldier nodded.

Sam sighed. "Okay." It occured to him that he and Soldier probably don't have the same definition of "taking care of yourself". Not wanting to risk any miscommunication, he looked off to the side, reassessing his methods. It was easier to think when he wasn't looking into Soldiers unblinking blue eyes. 

He had a lightbulb moment and started looking through drawers. He found a small note pad and a pen and started writing out a list of instructions. He went to the fridge and listed the specific names of everything he wanted Soldier to use and put time stamps next to every different instruction, including bathroom breaks and when to go to sleep. He gave him a wake up time as well, just so he could make sure he eats breakfast tomorrow morning. When Sam was done, he had a meticulous day plan for the next twenty four hours that would make his commander shed a tear. 

He didn't have anything to write in-between telling him to eat and drink and go to bed. He just kept writing 'rest', figuring Soldier wouldn't do anything anyway.

Sam sat on the bed and held the list up in front of Soldier. "Here. These are your instructions for when I'm gone." He directed Soldiers attention to the clock on the bedside table. "Check the time and do each thing on the list at the right time. Can you do that?"

Soldier nodded dutifully, accepting the list, immediately looking to see what he was supposed to be doing. Sam let a tired smile reach his face. "I'll be back soon to check on your wounds, so don't go making them worse until I get back."

Soldier looked up at him and nodded again, leaning back against the headboard, obeying his scheduled rest time on the list. Sam let out a breath, knowing he's done everything he can to make sure Soldier doesn't sit stationary until he comes back.

Grabbing his bag, he turned towards the door. "Alright. Let's go."

Joaquín waved a hand towards Soldier, making an unsure face. "Should we like...put the TV on for him or something?" 

Sam grabbed his shoulder and basically pushed him out the door. "C'mon Torres."

They got back to the plane and took off back towards the base. Sam played with the tracker in his pocket, he waited an hour, until they were in an innocuous enough location. Then he opened the door and dropped the tracker. Something that tiny would probably survive the fall. Also lead whoever was looking for him in the opposite direction to where Soldier actually is. 

He and Joaquín got their stories straight. Sam has to report his injury and explain his used bullets but there was room for omitting some details. Sam didn't see any harm in mentioning these Hydra people, since it wouldn't be a lie to say they were responsible for the crash. The plan was to tell them they were attacked when Hydra was trying to recover something from the wreckage, what they hoped to recover, they have no idea. Mostly not a lie. 

Sam was interested to hear if anyone knew anything about Hydra.

The reaction was as certainly something. When they got back to make their report, the mere mention of Hydra got them a meeting with the Chief and agents that did not mention their affiliation but Sam had some guesses. The Colonel was very insistent they give as much details as possible. Sam and Joaquín shared their story. Joaquín gave them the exact location of where they were attacked and they remained in questioning for another two hours. Mostly the agents asking for details on the descriptions of the Hydra agents. 

This was a nice confirmation about his decision to hide Soldier. If he was here, those agents would have probably whisked him away to God knows where and Sam would never see him again. They weren't listening to his or Joaquín's opinions on the situation. The agents were just grilling them for details. It might add a hurdle to Joaquín investigating for him if this is how worked up they get.

By the time they were done being borderline interrogated, Sam got called to meet with their Air Commander. He pulled Sam into his office to gently tell him that his sister was in a car accident, is currently bound to a wheelchair and needs Sam home to help her care for her two young children. Sam thinks he gave an appropriately shocked and distressed reaction, thanking his commander for the approved leave, making a mental note to buy Sarah some nice noise cancelling headphones.

They're giving him a month to 'get his affairs in order' then he's to report to the Louisiana base for light duty. He can leave the first thing tomorrow morning, as there was no approved transport heading out for the rest of the day. He can make that work. Soldier would be fine. There was nothing he could do right now anyway.

Sam can convince himself he'll be fine.

--

DIRECTIVE

"4:30 pm: Eat apple"

The Asset waited until it's next instruction. 

.

.

.

"5:00: Drink small glass of water."

.

.

The Asset continued to follow the list.

The Asset waited for the strike team to secure it.

They won't. The medic removed the tracker. The medic has claimed the Asset but he does not use the activation words. 

The Asset must return to base. 

The Asset must report it's mission to it's handlers.

The medic has performed his duties. The Asset has been returned to optimal functionality. The Asset must return to base.

The Asset went to put the list down and walk to the door.

The medic--*--__*-__*- the medic is not...

__.**_...--*_.__._.--*______*__________

Cutting through the fog, a long sleeping thought, rising from the abyss of the tortured mind.

A warmth overtaking the cold

The Asset's mind was flooded with the consequences. Strapped to the chair, searing, burning, cold, cold.... cold.

.

.

The Asset stared forward blankly. Train of thought interrupted. Body relaxing as the causes for stress drifted from it's head. Mind empty of all but the last given instruction. 

The Asset looked at the list. The Asset looked to the time.

"10:00pm Get into bed, close your eyes and sleep"

The Asset performed two of three, laying stationary.

Sleep.

The Asset doesn't sleep. It's put into cryofreeze until it's to be of use again. The medic is not aware of this.

Gentle hands. Thoughtful, handling the Asset with care. Guiding not forcing.

...The Asset cannot sleep without the medic.

An echo of the recent memory played in its mind. "Close your eyes, Soldier"

It did.

Warm hand, threading skilled fingers through his hair, thumb grazing his skin, the warmth spread to his chest.

Breath slowed. Muscles sore and tender, sinking into the bed. The Asset didn't realize how tired it was.

**

-***

_*****

Falling, then nothing.

Waking up restrained. Strapped to a table. Painfully bright light piercing down on him.  _*--__._-* can't feel his arm. Afraid and disoriented. The last thing he remembered was the train. He fell. He's alive. "W--Where am I?"

Eyes straining to stay open, he looked to the side. His arm isn't there. Panic surged in -*__-*--__'s chest. He felt like he was going to throw up. His heart was climbing into his throat. "What are you doing to me!?" His voice cracked, hoarse and strained, like he'd been yelling for hours. He doesn't remember...

__*--.._.*_. felt tears prickling his eyes. Surrounded by scientists ignoring his questions, dismissing his cries. Heart hammering, mind racing, the fingers of his remaining hand, clutching the arm of the chair. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to scream but all he felt was a deep ache of helplessness. "Please stop..."

Uncaring eyes met his, scrutinizing, unimpressed, leaning over him. "The Asset is exhibiting emotional irregularities. Prepare the machine. Another shock will fix it."

"No--"

******************

Gasping, floods of memories filling the Assets mind. It felt panic rising in it's chest. It's not supposed to feel panic. They'll put it in the chair, they'll put it back in cryofreeze if they find out.

Craving direction, something to calm into mind, the Asset checked the list and the time. 

"Sleep 10:00pm to 7:00am."

It leaned forward, it's head falling into its hands. Something prodding at the back of its mind, something trying to break free. To burst through the haze enshrouding it's mind.

The Asset stood up and went to the bathroom, a crash followed him, stumbling into the wall, turning on the faucet and splashing water onto it's face, breathing growing heavier, porcelain basin cracking under its grip.

This wasn't on the list. 

The Asset must only follow orders. The Asset may only make choices that align with directives.

Stop.

This is not a directive

The Asset must only__..*

*--._.--_.._.*_..._*____

Heart hammering in its chest, head spinning, it's vision blacking out. The Asset fell to the tiled floor.

Chapter Text

Sleep didn't come easy. Sam's brain came up with every worse case scenario. That hour and a half they spent inside the motel room with the tracker might have been enough for Hydra to find him. What if a cleaner comes by the room and Soldier attacks them? 

He lay awake in his bunk, rubbing his hands over his face as his body refused to relax long enough to let him sleep. It's fine. A few more hours and he can go and get this started. He hoped Joaquín wouldn't be bothered by those agents while Sam was off base. If they had any more questions for them, he doubted they would let Sam leave, so here's hoping they leave his pilot alone. He has every intention to take the fall for his actions and not allow Joaquín to go down with him if anything about Soldier comes to light. 

Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about it. He needs to keep focused on his immediate goals. If he lets himself spiral down the rabbit hole of everything that could possibly go wrong, he's gonna have to admit himself to an institution. 

Sam was done packing up his belongings long before the sun was up. The bunks got their morning check and Sam spent the hour surrounding breakfast accepting condolences about his sister and well wishes from his comrades. It's a good thing none of them actually know her and she doesn't have to directly lie to anyone else.

Joaquín, bless his heart, convinced the higher ups that Sam needed to get home as quickly as possible, and offered to fly him to the airport instead of the hours of driving in the bus. That made Sam's day a thousand times easier. They weren't going to the airport of course but no one needed to know that part.

When they were off base and up in the air, Sam was mulling over the reaction to Hydra. Seems like the military have their own investigation going on. And also homeland security. "Don't suppose your friend would be willing to give you your birthday present early for some more info on Hydra?"

Joaquín grinned, giving him a one-handed finger gun. "You and me are on the same wavelength my man. We're gonna meet up for lunch at the end of the week. I'll see what I can get outta him."

He knew he could trust Joaquín to show initiative. "Doin' the Lords work Torres." Joaquín gave him a casual salute.

Joaquín landed the plane in the same field. "Call me if you need me yeah? Y'know in case Soldier goes nuts and power slams you through the wall or something." He was making jokes, but Sam knew how Joaquín acted when he was genuinely concerned.

Sam heaved a sigh, giving him a tired stare even though he knew that was a real possibility. "I'll keep you updated. Thanks again man." There's not enough words to describe how lucky he is for this kid. There's a decent amount of people in the barracks that would have reported Sam immediately and no real way to pick them out of the crowd until the moment called for it. So he's monumentally thankful he ran into Soldier with Joaquín in tow.

With that, Joaquín flew off and Sam made his way back to the motel. He didn't want to waste time and b-lined to the room. He was relieved to see the door was still locked but when he opened the door, Soldier wasn't in bed. The clock was on the ground beside the bed and the trash can had been tipped over, it's meager contents still pooled at the bottom. The lights were off, morning light barely poking through the closed blinds. Sam closed the door behind him.

He called out warily. "Soldier? It's me, I'm back--"

Stepping further into the room, Sam's eyes zeroed in on a figure on the ground in the bathroom. Soldier was curled up on the bathroom floor, dried tear trails down his face, lips cracked and dry. He was awake, wide eyes staring forward at nothing. The tap was half on, trickling with water, not fast enough to fill the sink but not a slow drip either.

Sam rushed to his side, turning the tap off and crouching down. The moment his hand came into contact with Soldiers skin, the despondent state ended abruptly. His eyes snapped to Sam, and with frightening speed, grabbed Sam by the wrist and the front of his shirt, slamming him into the floor,  swinging a leg over his hips. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as his back crashed into the tiles. Sam grunted in pain, his wound on the back of his head impacting with the tiles, sending a shock of pain to his system.

Soldier reeled his metal arm back, fist clenched and Sam raised his arms in front of his face.

"Soldier! It's me, stop!"

Soldiers hand gripping the front of Sam's shirt began to shake. His eyes twitched, and Sam saw more emotion in his pale face in this moment than he'd seen all of yesterday.

His lips were trembling, opening before any words came out. 

"I'm sorry--" voice no longer monotonous, taking short shuddering breaths. "I'm sorry..." His eyes were darting from Sam to the floor, he turned his head to look behind him, every movement a flinch.

Sam sat up, slowly reaching out to him. "Hey, hey, it's alright. You're alright...breathe in. Deep breaths Soldier."

Soldier let in a gasping inhale, Sam inched closer. "That's right. Deep breath in, one... two...three...and breath out, one... two...three...do it again..." He counted slowly, instructing Soldier through the breathing exercise. Sam breathed with him, Soldier gradually following along with him, the color returning to his face a little.

Sam got close enough to put his hands on Soldiers arms, just under his shoulders. "Good. You did great..." Sam went to help Soldier up, but instead Soldier basically collapsed forward, his forehead landing on Sam's shoulder. Sam's hand went up to hold him instinctively, stopping him from falling any further. Soldier's exhaustion was evident. He leaned on Sam heavily, Sam arranging himself to accept the weight in the most comfortable way possible.

Sam sat there against the wall of the bathroom, Soldier curled against his chest, breath washing over Sam's neck. He's not sure how long they sat there for. He wasn't sure if Soldier was asleep or just so exhausted he couldn't move. Sam let his mind drift, aimlessly scratching the back of Soldiers head, gently stroking his hair. 

Eventually, Sam felt Soldier still, his body going tense like he'd woken up in a strange place. Sam retracted his hands, craning his head down to see his face. "Are you alright now?"

Soldier sat up, blinked and nodded. Not moving. Sam felt that creeping nausea again. "You can stand up Soldier." He guessed that they were back to the regular routine.

Soldier did. Face returning to that same stoic expression. Whatever had happened, Soldier was back to normal. What Sam knew as his normal anyway.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, his knees and his back aching a little from sitting on the ground for what must have been an hour or two. "Okay. Let's get you back to bed." He noted Soldier had his eyes on the instructions Sam left, the note on the ground, slightly crumpled. 

Sam had written more instructions for today in case he wasn't able to make it back. Sam picked up the list folded it up and tossed it into the small trash can beside the TV after lifted it up. "Disregard the remaining instructions. I'm back now." He gestured to the bed. "Lie down."

Soldier nodded and got onto the bed, laying back against the pillows. Sam tapped his fingers on the tape adhering the bandage to itself. "I'm gonna unwrap this and take a look. Is that okay?"

Soldier had his eyes fixed on him once more. He nodded once and Sam picked the tape off. This time he didn't have to tell Soldier to lift his back off the bed, he did it without being told, arching off the bed so Sam could reach underneath him. Recalling the previous order. 

Sam was going through the motions, slowing his movements right down as it came to the final layer between bandage and raw, wounded flesh. Sam went to gently peel off the bandage and his brain might have actually short-circuted at the sight.

The wound had sealed. The gash under his ribs. It was still pink and tender, but it was at the stage of the healing process where you can be less precious with the stitches. Usually that was after a week. It had barely been a day.

"...How?" His words caught in his throat, shaking his head. The man was an anomaly in a series of ways. Why not add this to the list.

His eyes darted down to the bullet wound he had packed. Same deal, the wound was smaller, hardly bled, no leaking of any kind. Sam thinks the packing was actually causing problems at this point. 

He hesitated, his hand over Soldiers leg, before gently plucking the gauze out of the wound. It looked alarmingly healthy for a hole in his leg. Sam did his best to keep the inevitably startled tremor from his voice. "Soldier. Do you know how this is happening?"

"Yes." He answered obediently, Sam sighed to himself, getting more specific.

"How are you healing so quickly?" He got his bag ready, figuring he may as well get the hole stitched up while they talked. Soldiers reply was immediate.

"Hydra's serum."

Sam found this string of questions and answers with no elaboration deeply tedious but he wasn't expecting Soldier to go into detail unless Sam asked him specifically. "What does the serum do exactly?"

"Made the perfect weapon."

Sam's eyebrow quirked up. Weapon? Is Soldier the weapon?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Explain."

"The serum gives the Asset strength, speed, heightened senses and accelerated healing." He spoke like he was reading the instruction manual of the box he was delivered in.

Does Soldier even view himself as a person?

Thinking on that, Sam made quick work of the gun shot wound. If what Soldier was saying was true, the inside of his leg will sort itself out. It had already started to fuse back together.

Sam packed up his things, setting them aside. The one silver lining to this is hopefully he won't have to do any more stitching for the foreseeable future. He stood up and typed out a quick text to Joaquín to add this 'serum' to his list of things to research and turned his attention back to Soldier.

He was still laying there, eyes on Sam. He tapped his phone against his palm as he considered his options. One thing for sure, he needed to get some real answers. Not right now though. He doubted Soldier got a good night's rest on the bathroom floor. He told Soldier to close his eyes and put his hand gently on Soldiers head. "Take a nap Soldier. I'll wake you up in a couple hours." Sam lightly scratched his fingertips over the top of his scalp, petting him until he started to softly snore.

The tension that had settled in his shoulders since he left yesterday, had finally left him. Now that he was back and could see Soldier was mostly fine, he finally relaxed a little. Not entirely, but a little. 

Sitting there decompressing. It wasn't long before Sam saw a fatal error in his choices. He's incapable of relaxing. Sure, he likes to chill out with a beer and watch TV, but that's with friends. He's still technically doing something. He's socialising. When Sam's on his own, he's usually at home and has stuff to do. Clean, organisation, calling a friend to chat while he does one of his many hobbies. He's an extrovert. He can't help his need to be outside and talk to people.

He brought a couple of books with him that he had for reading during free time in the barracks, but with the amount of free time he's gonna have on his little vacation with Soldier, he'll finish both books in three days. What the hell is he going to do here to keep his brain busy?

He did some quiet exercising, mostly yoga, some sit ups and push ups and then he took a shower. After that, he unpacked the things he'd brought with him from the barracks and made use of the motel drawers and shelves. If he was gonna be here for a while, he didn't want to be living out of a bag.

He double checked that Soldier was fast asleep and ducked out to see the town a little. He could smell chai lattes in the air so he bought two and fought every urge in him to not get wrapped up in a conversation with the woman who made them. He didn't see the harm in chatting a little. Twenty minutes tops. Everyone here is so friendly and chatty. It's Sam's dream. But he can't go making friends without revealing the brainwashed man in his motel room. 

He tore himself away and went back to the motel. Soldier was still asleep though he didn't look particularly peaceful. His brows were pinched together just a bit. Sam put Soldiers drink in the microwave to reheat it a little and gently woke him up. He gasped and twitched, settling once his eyes were on Sam. The microwave beeped and Sam grabbed it, handing it to Soldier. He chugged it before Sam could say anything. 

"You ever heard of savouring?" Sam had his hands on his hips and of course, Soldier did not respond. At least he's not picky? Sam went to the fridge and cut up the remaining fruit Joaquín had bought yesterday, making a small breakfast snack for the two of them. 

Sam handed him a bowl of fruit and told him to eat. Soldier proceeded to eat pieces of fruit in a kind of rhythm. One after the other, put it in his mouth, swallowed, next piece. 

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "Buddy, slow down. You have teeth. Chew." 

After a brief pause, Soldier ate slower but no less mechanically. Sam appreciated the attempt at recalibrating. He left Soldier to just sit for a bit. He didn't want to bombard him. Sam's spending so much time thinking about Soldiers boundaries, he's certain he's just making up things to be cautious of at this point.

Eventually, when Sam had decided an arbitrarily appropriate amount of time had passed. He sat down on the other bed, asking Soldier to sit up and face him. Soldier did and Sam threaded his fingers together, hanging between his own legs. "You okay with me asking you some questions?" Sam spoke with the implication that Soldier could say no, even though Sam knew he wouldn't. It made Sam feel better.

Soldier gave him his full attention. What's new? Sam organised his thoughts. "Why do you follow orders?" He tried to ask things that would get him the most targeted responses. He wanted to gauge how much Soldier was aware of.

There was the slightest of pauses. "It's my purpose."

Sam nodded his head to either side. That lined up with the whole, being brainwashed thing. "Who decided that?" He knew the answer before he asked it but he was using it as a test question more than anything.

"Hydra." Soldier said predictably.

"Why?" Sam followed up and Soldier stared back blankly.

Sam's shoulders heaved with a sigh. More specific Sam. He leaned back, folding his arms. At least Soldier wasn't gonna get impatient while he thought of another question. 

He needs to know what happened to Soldier. Why he is the way he is. "What do you do for Hydra? What types of orders do you usually get given?"

The response was immediate. "Assassination and espionage. Occasionally the training of new recruits."

Sam rolled his tongue over his teeth behind his lips. Just like Joaquín said. So he's some special assassin they send out to do the difficult stuff? Or just the really discreet missions? "Is that all?" Sam asked, not quite sure he wanted to know.

Soldier was clear and concise. "Those are my primary skill sets. Additional directives vary between handlers."

Sam felt like he wasn't getting anywhere. Soldier hypothetically has all the answers but Sam needs to ask the right things to get access to them. Is Soldier an experiment? Was he a volunteer? Was he kidnapped? Surely he didn't choose to be like this. But then again, Sam doesn't know that.

What he did know, was that the word 'handler' made Sam's skin itch. Like Soldier was an attack dog that needed an owner to keep him in check. That actually seems like exactly what the situation is. 

"What's a handler?" Sam wanted to double check.

"The primary individual I report to. The handler holds the activation words for The Winter Soldier."

It was Sam's turn to stare. The Winter Soldier? Activation words?? Sam needed to lie down.

Sam nearly babbled. "Activation words? Like a fuckin' sleeper agent?" Sam kept talking, knowing Soldier wouldn't respond to that. "Wait. So you're 'The Winter Soldier'?" He raised his hands in finger quotes.

"Yes."

Sam's mind was replaying Joaquín's comment about being inside a James Bond movie. "And you're forced to do things using the activation words?"

"Yes."

Sam planted a hand over his mouth like it helped him think. Holy shit. How the hell did Hydra even do this? Sam didn't think this sort of thing was possible outside of movies. He's heard of mild hypnosis for therapy's sake but literally forcing someone to act against their will, by using a few specific words, drilled into their heads? 

Sam felt out of breath all of a sudden, but he needed to cover all his bases. "How did you end up with Hydra?" 

Soldier's eye twitched more violently than the other times. His pupils visibly shrank.

"I--" Soldiers voice shook, his eyes on Sam but his mind somewhere far away. Sam was about to ask another question to elaborate, when his eyes glanced down for a second to see his nails were embedded in his thigh, his metal fingers not breaking the skin but the skin went white against the pressure. 

"Woah- Woah, hey--" Sam rushed forward and scooped under Soldiers hands, his fingers snapping closed like a trap around Sam's, the moment they were free from his own legs. 

"I fell..." Soldier's voice was barely a whisper, hands clinging to Sam's unconsciously.

Sam held his hands in a grip he hoped was comforting. "It's okay, hey. You don't have to listen to Hydra anymore. Hydra isn't here. I'm the only one here and I'm not going to make you so anything you don't want to do." He ran his thumb over Soldiers worn knuckles, the cuts and bruises from the fight yesterday were basically gone, leaving dry healing skin behind.

"It's just you and me here." Sam repeated softly. Soldier was staring at him now. Eyeing Sam with an intensity that made him nervous.

There was blood dripping down the side of Soldiers thigh from the fingernail shaped punctures. Sam carefully levered Soldiers fingers from around his hands and got up to grab a wet cloth from the bathroom. He went to the sink and drenched the hand towel under the flow of water. Heading back to the front room, Sam stopped in his tracks, startled.

Soldier was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Sweat on his brow, eyes fixated on Sam. He hadn't even heard him move.

Folding the hand towel over his fingers, Sam tilted his head. "...Soldier?"

Suddenly, Soldier moved forward, deftly, with purpose. Sam stepped backwards, his back hitting the wall. Soldier got closer until they were half a foot apart. This close, Sam had to look up a little to meet his eyes, the blue eyes that were boring into Sam's.

"Directive." Low and gruff, barely a murmur. Sam pressed himself back against the cold tiled wall. Eyebrows slowly pinched together.

Sam hadn't quite heard him. "What was that?"

Bucky's lips contorted, twitching, twisting like he was fighting with himself for what came out of his mouth. "Do you-...directive. What-... What directive?" His strangled voice was making Sam sad just listening to it. He sounded like he was bursting at the seams just trying to get a sentence out. Fighting with his mind to verbalise his thoughts.

Sam kept his hands at his sides. He didn't want to make any sudden movements. Sam's eyes zeroed in on how his veins were popping out of his arm. He started speaking slowly. "No directive man. You don't need to be doing anything." Sam said as gently as he could.

Soldier grunted at the answer, clearly frustrated and scanned Sam like he was assessing him. Deciphering a code. If Sam wasn't going to give him an order, he was going to figure out what Sam wanted. He stepped closer until they were almost chest to chest, until he was bracketing Sam against the wall. His hands planted on either side of Sam, not to trap Sam but to brace himself as he struggled to speak. Sam's heart picked up even if it was just out of pure confusion. His mind was running a million miles a minute trying to figure out what was up with him. He's acting like a damn malfunctioning robot. Soldier hung his head, hovering over Sam's shoulder.

When Soldier raised his head to look Sam in the eyes again, he looked like he was in distress. The sweat beading on his forehead dripped down his temple. "What-- What do you want me to do?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam spoke carefully. He really didn't like Soldiers energy. "Nothing, Soldier. I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do."

Soldiers eye twitched like that answer didn't make sense to him. His breathing picked up again, iris trembling against the white of his eyes. He really couldn't just exist. He can't relax unless he has a 'purpose' 

"Soldier." Sam gently raised his hands, placing them on his biceps, coaxing him to drop his arms. "I'm not here to give you orders. I'm here to take care of you..." Sam exhaled deeply, not knowing if anything he was saying was even getting through to him. Even though Soldier's eyes were pinned to him, desperate for an order. Soldier's brain just couldn't comprehend anything that wasn't an order.

"I just want..."  He trailed off. He really didn't know how to finish that train of thought. Certainly not how to say it in a simple to understand format. His gaze absentmindedly went to Soldier's chest while he tried to put his words together, hands still on his arms.

Suddenly, something flashed over Soldiers eyes, following Sam's gaze. He leaned ever-so-slightly closer. His hand crept up between their bodies and his fingers curled over the front of Sam's waistband, thumbing at the button, never once breaking eye contact. Sam twitched at the hand on him and Soldier's next words made the air go still.

"Do you want me?" His low, gruff voice sent an unwilling shiver down Sam's spine. Soldier noted the reaction, his eyes widening, happy to finally have a purpose. He spoke close enough their their noses brushed. "You can have me."

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out, completely frozen, struggling to process what was happening. Soldiers entire demeanor was different, like a setting had been changed. The tense aura was gone, replaced with an eagerness as Soldier locked onto Sam's eyes. Sam stared back and there was nothing behind his eyes. They were empty. Two blue voids. Pupils small and emotionless. Completely lacking of any actual desire.

He was no longer waiting for orders, his actions were practised, calculated movements. Sam immediately recognizing it was like how he acts out previously given orders.

A whisper, soft and intentional, breath washing over Sam's lips. "I can do anything you want." When his hand dropped, moving to palm Sam's crotch, Sam's head caught up with him and his hand snapped up in-between them, planting it flat on Soldier's chest.

"Ah-- Nope-- No. No." He sputtered as clear he could manage. Pushing Soldier was more for show since he couldn't actually push the other man back. Soldier identified the motion and stepped backwards. Abandoning what he'd just attempted instantly.

Sam pushed himself off the wall, taking a breath and meeting Soldiers eyes. The look he gave Soldier was deadly serious. "Never do that again." He was firm, on the edge of harsh. He sucked in a frustrated breath, roughly rubbing his palm over the back of his head. Soldier didn't respond to niceties. He didn't understand Sam's comfort, his attempts at softness. He only understands clear instructions. "There's no directive. I have no instruction for you. Just-- stop that."

Soldier stood back and that was it. He just stood there. Except now his face was plagued with this awful regretful expression. Like he was a teenager who'd failed a test and was afraid to tell his parents. Like he was expecting consequences. Within a minute, he was right back to this despondent state. Not knowing how to exist without being ordered to.

Sam put a hand over his eyes, letting it slide down to his mouth. Muttering "Christ..." The thudding in Sam's chest lessened the longer they stood there. Sam really tried to quell how pissed off he is.

Sam isn't mad at Soldier. The man's been abused. In about every possible way. He's very mad at the situation. Sam was already on edge and now he's been abruptly made aware of just another terrible thing he now has to keep track of. He can't complain too much. Sam chose to babysit the brainwashed assassin, didn't he?

He took another deep breath to centre himself. Sam just needs to make sure he never gives Soldier the impression he wants that from him, ever again. He hoped Sam's new order overlapped whatever heinous orders Soldier had been given by his handlers in the past.

Sam hates this. It's truly haunting knowing Sam could tell him to do anything and Soldier would do it. No thought to his own health and well-being at all. No choice. Just obedience. 

He wanted to see everyone responsible for doing this to a human being, get thrown in a hole. What could possibly be the purpose of this? Turning a man into a mindless slave, and for what? To prove that they could?

Glancing back at Soldier made Sam's chest ache. Soldier looked so lost. As startled as he was by what just happened, Sam knows he can't leave Soldier directionless. He needs to give him something. He can dwell on what the "additional directives" Soldier got from his handlers were, later. The only way to stop Soldier from getting nervous and trying to figure out what Sam wants, is to tell him what to do. 

"Actually. There's something you can do for me." Sam took half a step forward, crouching down to mop up the blood that has been trickling down his leg, standing back up and noting that it had already stopped bleeding.

Soldiers eyes lit up, ready to comply. Almost fearful, like he was ready for a chance at redemption. This behaviour was so odd. Before he was emotionless and stoic. Now he just seems confused, grasping at anything to give him a purpose.

"Just...sit down." Sam rubbed his face, gesturing to the bed with his other hand. "Actually put those clothes on first." The clothes Joaquín picked up for Soldier were still in the bag next to the TV. Sam suddenly became hyper aware of him being in his underwear.

Soldier got dressed in the basic grey fitted T-shirt and black sweatpants, then sat down on the bed. Sam sat across from him on the other bed, clasping his hands in front of him between his legs.

"I want you to tell me about your mission. Why were you in that forest to begin with?"

Soldier twitched, his fingers fidgeted in his lap.

"I'm not supposed to speak of my mission until I make my report." His voice sounded more emotive than before. In fact, ever since this morning he's spoken with more personality, even if it was woven with confusion.

Sam picked his words carefully. "You're my patient. My responsibility. It's my duty to make sure you're safe." He didn't break eye contact even though Soldier had started to look uncomfortable. "So if you're gonna do something that leads to you getting hurt again, I'd like to know."

Soldier was clearly conflicted. He was weighing his options in his mind. Deciding which order was more pivotal to follow. His original ones, or the ones he's receiving from Sam.

He's not sure what weighed the variables in Sam's favor, but Soldier agreed to comply. "I was tasked with destroying the Atlas carrier and ensuring there were no survivors."

Sam's heart picked up. "Why?"

"They were a threat to Hydra."

Sam felt like a broken record. "How?"

Soldier didn't respond. He stared at Sam blankly. Sam leaned forward. "Soldier. What made them a threat? Why did Hydra want you to kill them?"

Soldier swallowed hard, his hands shaking, his eyes unfocused, mind somewhere else. "I-- don't know... It was an order–" His brow furrowed like he was angry. Like he knew what he was saying didn't make sense and it frustrated him that he didn't know what else to say.

Sam moved forward without thinking, crouching down between the beds in front of Soldier, grabbing his hand, patting it with his other. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Soldier was shuddering as he breathed. Heavily, in and out, eyes darting from nothing to more nothing, like he was following an invisible bug flying all over the room. 

Sam decided to leave it there. He wasn't going to get anywhere by stressing him out. Whatever was up with Soldier, he couldn't rush his healing. There was no need to. It's a marathon, not a sprint. He had a whole month to work on this. He'd start panicking in a few weeks. 

Sam stood up, leaving Soldiers hand in his lap. "Are you hungry?"

Soldier took a bit longer than usual to respond. His eyes trailing up to Sam. "Yes."

Sam smiled and nodded. He knew that there were some extra food items Joaquín purchased, but Sam decided he could find something more substantial to eat in town. A proper meal for the poor guy. "Okay. You lie down and relax. I'll be back soon with something to eat."

While Soldier settled into the bed, with a noticeable amount of unease, Sam turned the TV on, patting his pockets for the room key. "Just stay put alright?"

Sam walked down to a corner cafe and bought Soldier the biggest, meatiest sandwich on offer and grabbed a few options for drinks from iced teas, to sodas, to chocolate milk. 

When Sam returned, Soldier was sitting on the ground at the foot of the bed, knees at his chest. He wasn't so much hugging his knees, as he was just zoning out with his arms draped by his feet, forehead on his knees. His head snapped up when Sam made himself known, blinking up at him.

"Soldier? Are you okay?" Sam slowly approached, crouching down beside him. Soldier didn't answer for a few seconds.

"No."

Sam settled down beside him with his back against the foot of the bed, putting the bag of food between them. "That's okay. Did you wanna talk about it?"

Soldier blinked, then again, and again. Sam figured that was his answer. Asking Soldier to verbalize his thoughts was a big ask at this point. It was enough of a shock that he replied 'no'. Sam reached into the bag and pulled out the two halves of the giant sub sandwich and decided to run a small test with his next instructions. 

"That's yours. You can eat it all now, or save some for later. Your choice." Sam hoped leaving the choice to Soldier wasn't confusing for him. 

Soldier took the sandwich and stretched his legs out a little, putting one half in his lap and unwrapping the other, taking a massive bite. Sam smiled, some of his nervousness dampening but not going away completely. He gestured to the selection of drinks. "You can have one of these too. You get first pick." He kept his eyes fixated on Soldier while he looked over the options. 

Soldier picked up the bottle of iced tea and set it beside him, then looked at Sam like he was looking for approval. Sam just smiled at him. "Good choice."

Both halves and the iced tea were gone before Sam had even finished one half of his, and he had gotten a smaller sub. To be honest, Sam has been too busy watching him devour the sub and had forgotten to start eating. Sam noticed the same thing with the fruit and the latte from earlier. He ate like it was a directive. A task to be completed. Sam couldn't tell if he was enjoying it. At least he had some good food in his stomach for potentially the first time in a long time. For all Sam knows, Hydra feeds him nutrients through a tube and pump it directly into his stomach.

Soldier stayed sitting beside Sam while he ate. Sam wasn't sure if he was watching the TV or just staring at the screen. The baseball was on. Sam didn't follow the NBL but this is the first thing he's put on the TV that Soldier has sort of paid attention to.

They sat there until the game finished. Advertisements started playing and Sam turned to Soldier, picking up the wrappers and empty bottles, stuffing them into the paper bag. "Did you like that?" Sam nodded to the TV and Soldier looked from Sam to the screen, he blinked, staring blankly at an advertisment for life insurance. He looked back to Sam, vacant as ever.

Sighing, Sam realised he probably missed his window to ask about the baseball. He's not sure how much Soldier processed and remembered moment to moment. It really seemed like Soldier had zero short term memory for anything that wasn't an order. He just slips in and out of a fugue state from Sam's perspective.

Sam needs to keep him present. Focused on the world around him, not just Sam. Not just waiting on orders that haven't come yet. But how does he do that...

Sam made sure to keep asking him questions. About what he wanted, if he was alright. Encouraging him to think for himself. When Soldier seemed to get stressed, not knowing how to respond, Sam would step back, rephrase the question or just let him sit quietly. He didn't know the extent of what had happened to Soldier. All he knew was that he didn't want to keep ordering him around. Though he didn't have much of a choice if they were going to have another mishap like earlier. At the very least, if he was taking orders from Sam, then Sam could encourage him to make choices for himself. 

The stoicism popped in and out. Alternating between blank looks, confusion and discontent that tugged on Sam's soul, before going blank again. It was almost like watching someone with ADD walk into a room and immediately forget why. Except it was every ten seconds. There would be these fleeting moments where Soldier looked frustrated, before it faded in half a second. Sam could see thoughts emerging and disappearing like some part of Soldier was trying to think but then the Winter Soldier programming took over and sent him back to the default.

He kept an eye on him though Sam regrettably kept his distance for the rest of the day. He felt like an idiot but Sam wasn't sure how else to deal with how he was feeling. Now that he's hyper aware of how Soldier views him.

He knows it's not that simple. Nothing about Soldier is simple. Soldier's been programmed to obey any and all orders. It's not so much how he views Sam, but more how he's been trained to behave. He no doubt assumed that's what Sam wanted because it's happened before. He knows it's not Soldiers fault as to what he's had embedded in his mind, but Sam just really didn't want that happening again. God forbid Soldier tried that on someone else. He kept interacting with Soldier, he just made sure not to touch him.

That was until it was time for bed and Soldier lay there, still and sleepless. It was the only order Soldier didn't follow. To go to sleep. Willing yourself to sleep doesn't work for everyone but especially Soldier. 

Sighing, Sam sat beside him on the bed and gently ran his fingers through Soldiers hair to put him to sleep. Sam breathed a bit of relief knowing this was a sure fire way to get thim to relax. He supposed that petting Soldier until he fell asleep was going to become another part of their routine they formed together. Could be worse. He'll take having a way to get him to sleep over dealing with Soldier sitting up all night, staring at Sam like something out of a horror movie or hovering over him like a guard dog.

Once Soldier was asleep, Sam put himself to bed. Despite how his body wanted to melt into the mattress, sleep still didn't come easy. He thought he'd sleep better close to Soldier where he could watch over him, but that was evidently not the case. Sam had only managed to get just less than an hour before being awoken by Soldier thrashing in his sleep. Sam shot up to witness Soldier gasping and grunting, thrashing like he was having a fit. Sam flicked a lamp on and rushed to his side, worried he was going to hurt himself with his own metal arm. 

Sam put a knee beside him on the bed, grabbing his shoulders, meaning to gently shake him awake. However the moment his hands came into contact with Soldiers skin, his eyes snapped open. Sam's breath hitched.

He looked lucid. The difference was night and day. His pupils responded naturally, his eyes were clear rather than glazed over. And he focused that lucid gaze on Sam. 

Within a second, his gaze hardened.

Sam barely had time to react to the foot in middle of his stomach, kicking him backwards. "Don't fucking touch me--" Soldier snapped, basically a growl. He was half awake, an eye twitching while he frantically scanned the room. Sam managed to stay on his feet and put a hand over his stomach, nursing the spot that felt like it was definitely going to bruise. Sam raised his other hand in a placating gesture towards Soldier.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you--" He remained calm, watching Soldier's movements carefully. Soldier scrambled off the bed, eyes darting around, looking down at himself, then taking in his surroundings like it was the first time. His eyes fell on the door, then to Sam, then back to the door. Sam's throat tightened with nerves. He absolutely could not let Soldier leave in this condition. 

Sam swore he heard Soldiers teeth grind he was gritting them so hard. His jaw so tense it shook. "Who are you?" It was a demand. His blue eyes were wild and wide with zero recognition. He looked at Sam like he was a stranger. He took a threatening step forward, Sam stepped back.

"Sam. The medic, remember?" He tried gently, but Soldier didn't react favorably. Murder eyes was an understatement. Sam took the hint and stepped back further, his back to the entrance. Sam wasn't sure what the right move was here. The stakes were high and Sam desperately needed to de-escalate.

Icy blue eyes stared through Sam. "Get out of my way." He growled, metal creaking as he clenched his fist at his side. Sam held a hand up, back nearing the door. 

"I can't do that Soldier." Sam held his ground. Soldier could easily force his way past Sam, but he wasn't doing that. Sam was counting his blessings. He didn't seem intentionally violent. He's acting in self defense. That doesn't mean Soldier definitely won't throw him into a wall but Sam had hope that he could talk him down. 

Anger intensified, rage flashed over his eyes. "Don't fuckin-- call me Soldi--" he grit his teeth harder, fingers digging into his skull as he grabbed his head.

Sam kept his hands up in front of him "I'd love to call you by your name." He put his back on the front door as Soldier stomped forward, shoulders heaving with every furious breath. "Do you remember--" a fist flew into the door, right next to Sam's head. Sam flinched, his eyes shutting instinctively. He slowly opened his eyes to see Soldier, fist still planted on the door, breathing heavily, his head hanging to look at their feet. 

"Where...am I?!" His voice rasped, wheezing as he spoke.

Sam didn't dare move. He gulped, his hands shaking more than he'd like since he wants to display a confident front while Soldier is...having an episode? Sam's mind was racing trying to think of anything useful to do or say but came up blank.

He froze there for as long as he could bear, waiting for Soldier's body to stop tensing and for his chest to stop heaving. Taking a deep breath, he slid his back down the wall a little, tilting his head down to try and see Soldiers face. "Hey..." He started gently. Soldier had his eyes squeezed shut, his brow twitching. "It's alright. You're safe here."

Slowly, Sam put a hand on Soldiers shoulder, cautiously coaxing him to stand up, remove his fist from the wall. Even though it was his flesh arm, it still left a dent in the sturdy wooden door. Soldier gasped softly, his head snapping up to meet Sam's eyes but his mind was far away again. Sam's chest ached. Was that the real man beneath 'Soldier' just now? The angry one with the clear blue eyes?

Sam would be angry too....

Soldier's breathing quickened, sweat beading at his brow. Blinking, he let out a tiny panicked sound with his next breath, stumbling backwards. Sam kept a hand on him, stopping him from tripping or falling backwards.

 His chest rose and fell frantically, eyes glazed over and out of focus. Then, as if his legs just stopped working, he crumpled to the ground like a detonated building. Sam managed to stop his head from hitting the ground, holding Soldier's head over his lap on the ground. Sam craned his head to see his face. Out cold. 

The tension draining from his body didn't make Sam feel better. He just felt like a rubber band that had been stretched too far for too long. Tired and worn. His heart thumping in chest.

Sam took a minute. Or three. He waited until his hands stopped shaking before he made moves to get Soldier back into bed. Slipping his arms under Soldiers, Sam hauled him up with some degree of effort, dragging him to the closest bed. He got his upper body slumped over the mattress then did the same with his legs, rolling him into his back. 

Sam huffed, sitting beside him on the bed. Elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He sat there until the sun poked in through the gaps in the blinds. He thinks he might have dozed off a few times but not enough to relieve his tired, tacky eyes, trying to stick closed whenever he blinked. He didn't want to fall asleep in case Soldier woke up and tried to leave again. 

He didn't. He lay there perfectly still until Sam dragged himself to his feet, heading to the bathroom to wash his face. 

While he was in there, he checked his phone for messages from Joaquín. No updates on Hydra. Just a text to ask how he's doing. Sam slowly, tiredly texted Joaquín to let him know what happened yesterday and last night and less than a minute after clicking send, Joaquín called him.

"Dude."

"Yeah, I know." Sam rubbed a hand over his face. He was going to have to stay on his feet today because there's no way he won't pass out the second he sits down.

Joaquín's voice softened with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. He didn't hurt me. Until he kicked me anyway." Sam leaned against the bathroom wall, tipping his head back. "The fucked up part? How he was last night...that's the most lucid he's looked since I found the guy." Sam let his hand drop to his side. "Like he was fully awake-- I don't even know..." He trailed off, picking at an uneven surface on the wall behind him.

Joaquín took a deep breath, in and out. "Okay, well...maybe this is a good thing? Maybe whatever Hydra did to him is wearing off?"

"He didn't recognise me." Sam was mulling over it. "It's like he's not really conscious at all...his brain certainly isn't using all of its functions... Like only certain parts of his brain are allowed to work at one time." Sam was murmuring more to himself than Joaquín.

Joaquín made an unsure noise down the phone. "You're a saint Sam, don't get me wrong. But I don't think trying to figure him out is gonna do you much good. Probably just gonna make you go nutty." Joaquín said gently. "You're already doin everything you should be. Givin' him a safe, comfortable environment to figure himself out, y'know?"

He stammered to quickly correct himself. "I mean-- make sure he doesn't make any more unsolicited advances but...y'know. I think you should just watch over him rather than try to treat him."

Sam listened attentively. The kid's smart for someone whose frontal lobe hasn't even finished developing. Joaquín's right. Sam was already well aware he was overthinking. He knows he can't fix the brainwashing in a month, or maybe not at all. Honestly, their goal is mainly just keeping Soldier safe until he and Joaquín have enough evidence to warrant Soldier getting help through official channels and not immediately being sent to prison for the several murders he's committed.

"I could do without him kicking me again." Sam sighed and lifted his shirt to look at his stomach, which had bloomed into a decent sized bruise above his belly button.

"Do ya' need me to come up? I could drop by for a few hours in my downtime." The sincerity seeped through the phone. Sam smiled.

"Nah man. I'll let you know if I need ya'. I promise." As much as he loves the kid. His presence might complicate Soldier's situation more. No, he needs to keep Soldiers interactions with others to a minimum.

"Well, while I've gotcha' on the horn..." Joaquín started, the sound of him rummaging was only just picked up by the phone. "I did find something kinda interesting. Depending on your definition of interesting."

Sam waited and Joaquín piped up again. "Hydra isn't supposed to exist anymore." Joaquín paused for effect. "They were a big deal back in world war two, but they've barely been heard of since."

Sam paused on his way out of the bathroom. That wasn't nothing. Might explain why Homeland Security is so invested. Do they want the world to believe Hydra is still gone?

Sam was invested in the new info. "So who are these guys? They work with the Nazis?"

"Some of 'em did."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Some?"

More rummaging, the sound of the phone slipping and bouncing on the ground and Joaquín's muttering after it. His voice came back in loud and clear. "Hydra doesn't seem to be just from one country. There were Hydra agents from all over. But yeah, their goals typically aligned with whatever was the shittiest opinion people could have, at various points in history."

"But you said they don't exist anymore." Sam was clarifying it for his own sake. Joaquín hummed affirmatively.

"Yeah, there was a massive operation to take 'em out before the war ended in 1945. There were probably stragglers who've been in hiding ever since...keep in mind I got most of this from Googling really specific key words, so bear with me."

Sam waited and Joaquín clicked his tongue. "Obviously we don't have to focus on the stuff from like over seventy years ago. But there's loads of journal entries from soldiers and articles of Hydra's bigger attacks." Sam glanced over at Soldier while he listened. "It's kinda weird. Different articles about the same events don't use the word Hydra. Most of them just say terrorist attacks and military misfire." 

So someone was definitely trying to stop the general public from knowing about Hydra. Sam's certainly never heard of them. With the amount of damage they caused, you'd think they'd be in the history books somewhere. Sam tucked his hand under his arm that was holding the phone to his ear. "Any names jumping out at you?" Maybe they could find someone who knows something about Hydra who isn't affiliated with the military anymore. 

The pilot hummed. "Not a lot of people get mentioned by name. If any. But almost anyone we could talk to about Hydra would definitely be dead. Or like super old." 

Sam shrugged. "Could be worth a shot?" What else do they have to go by? Sam will take chatting to a ninety seven year old nurse over making Joaquín go on endless Google searches, sifting through heavily redacted news articles.

"Sure man. I'll find some names and see who's still kickin'." He sounded like he had more to say but at that moment, Soldier shifted in bed, slowly sitting up.

Sam turned his head back into the bathroom. "Soldier's up. I'll call you back later?" He wanted to keep a close eye on him. More so than usual.

"All good man." Joaquín chirped. "Take care of yourself."

With that, they hung up and Sam went to sit by Soldier.

Soldier's eyes were bloodshot. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes. He looked a hundred times more disoriented than usual. Sam tried to get his attention but he just stared forward. 

"... Soldier?"

He sat there, completely unresponsive for most of the morning. Sam tried to coax him into any kind of reaction by giving him specific orders, but it was like he was in shock. He wasn't hearing a word Sam said. Face somehow more blank and emotionless than usual. Sam gently laid him back down, arranging the pillows so he could sit reclined on the headboard.

Soldier didn't move for hours.

Sam put the TV on but didn't really watch. Instead he kept Soldier in his peripherals. It had been a few hours when Soldier finally shifted and rose from the bed, sitting on the side with his back to Sam, looking out the window. He was moving slowly like his body ached. Or like his head was spinning and he could only move slowly to avoid falling over. Lacking all the purpose and precision he'd been moving with since they met.

Not sure of which Soldier persona he'd be interacting with, Sam quickly muted the TV and swung his legs off the bed. "Hey man, how are you feelin'?..." He got up and walked around the bed to sit next to Soldier.

No response. The early morning sun illuminated his face as he stared out into the carpark. Shoulders drooped, head tilted slightly to the side. A nearly dazed look planted on the world outside the window.

"Soldier?" Voice barely louder than a whisper, craning his head to look into his vacant eyes.

He's definitely in shock. The symptoms all line up. He looks relaxed at first glance, but Sam only had to look a little closer to see his whole body is tense. Last night must have really taken a toll on him. But maybe this is progress. Maybe–

He stopped himself in his tracks before he got carried away theorising. He's not gonna get anywhere overthinking.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth from the morning sun on his face. Joaquín's right. He can't treat Soldier. All Sam can do is support him.

Sam doesn't know what's wrong, he doesn't know what had happened to cause this, and he doesn't know how to fix it. There's really nothing he can do. Not right now anyway.

Sam sat back, settled beside him, and waited.

He's here if Soldier needs him.

-

.

.

.....

///////

#

»»»»» »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

**************

***********************

________________----------------------

The cold wind rushed over him, hands shoved in his pockets. He muttered to himself about why St----**----**ev--_____***e made him get up this early. ******----------______________............

"Bu**--___cky?" /////////////_______________ "You comin'?"

The voice trailed away from him, faded from his mind. So familiar yet so far away. The snow fell softly around them.

___--**-----------..........

Mission complete. /////// The asset must return to base.

He grumbled. Its not fair. St---__––**eve's so much faster than he used to be ///____----__-–––·····

A warm laugh, enjoying his misery. "Quit ya mopin' Bu-**--_··········ck-------___________*****************»»»»» we're almost there!"

—-—-—-—-—-—-//////

The same voice called out, cracking with despair. The face faded as well. The face rose into the sky.

Or is he falling?

_____

The s now made it hard to move. He's stuck. He can't feel his arm. 

The sound of the train faded into the distance.

_–––––---------------*******

*_-—______------------

/

Mission

"I'm tellin' ya' Bu **__---····_-_ ck. The view is unreal."

____----__-–––···

Complete

Crying out in agony as the snowstorm whipped around them.

" B ---——···*** UC --____****—— KY!"

---__––**

---__**____----__-–––···

Tired. Warm light on his face. He sat staring out the window.

He sat staring out the window

He sat staring out the window...

**__--–––····»»»

Consciousness fading in and out. Wrists strapped back into the chair, blood still wet on his knuckles.

"The Asset is exhibiting emotional instabilities..."

_**___---*-__-–*––···

" ...without the activation words, the Asset is unstable. Prone to malfunction..."

"..prepare the machine for reset."

///

___--**-----------..........

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

The asset must return to base

Chapter Text

The morning sun rose up higher in the sky, all while Soldier sat there, truly despondent. 

Once it became clear Soldier was not moving, Sam locked in. He couldn't leave Soldier sitting there in shock, he needs water, he needs to use the bathroom, he needs to eat. Strength and speedy healing aside, Sam isn't going to use that as an excuse to neglect him. 

Sam turned to him, putting a hand on his back. "Okay Soldier, I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna talk to ya' anyway."

Soldier's glazed eyes still drifted out the window towards the carpark. "I'm gonna take care of you while you can't do it for yourself. I'll do everything in my power to respect you and your dignity because you deserve that much." He swiped his thumb under his lip to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. Explaining his intentions just in case some part of him was listening. Cognitive of what was going on around him, even if he couldn't answer. "You deserve to have someone care about you. So that's what I'm gonna do." 

He sat and waited like Soldier might respond. Maybe Sam was just giving the idea a few moments to settle in Soldiers static mind.

As the day went on, Soldier was easily lead by the hand to take care of his bodily needs. Joaquín had bought a can of soup that Sam heated up and slowly spoon fed to Soldier. Sam dutifully cared for him and cleaned him up, biding his time until Solder needed him again.

He was still conscious, he just wasn't doing anything for himself. He was still obeying, he just moved sluggish and dazed. His eyes didn't focus on anything and his mind was so far away. 

Sam thought back to last night and what might have happened if Soldier got out onto the street. What he would have done would he have just made a run for it? Would he have hurt someone? Would he have passed out somewhere and wake up like this in the middle of nowhere? Sam looked out the window at the bustling town. 

They can't stay here. They'll have to get moving eventually. Sooner rather than later. It'll be safer that way. It's the only way to stay ahead of Hydra. 

Sam thinks he got rid of the tracker fast enough to keep ahead of Hydra, but his paranoia is playing at him. He's not conceited enough to think he's stopped the evil, secret agency from retrieving their secret, special project.

He's gotten in their way. That's the only thing he knows for certain right now. They'll be back, probably with more gangs of guys with tasers and tranquilizers.

Sam took a breath. His thoughts were far too dark and dour for this idyllic little town. He can smell fresh bread baking through their barely open window. There's a coffee and donut food truck with cats painted on the side. Sam watched the townspeople, peaceful and serene.

The only benefit he was working with right now was that he was relatively certain that Hydra wasn't going to go around publicizing themselves or Soldier. They won't barge in, guns blazing. They've worked this hard at keeping their operations a secret. They wouldn't change that now.

Sam nearly laughed at his own attempts at seeing the bright side. Sure, they probably won't barge in and slaughter the town to get to Soldier because that would bring attention to them. No, they'll be discreet in their methods to kill Sam and take Soldier away.

He lay Soldier back down on his bed, feeling the ache in his own shoulders as he did. The maybe two hours of sleep he had gotten the night before were catching up on him. He nearly fell asleep right there, sitting up on the side of Soldiers bed. Blinking repeatedly, forcing his eyes open, Sam turned to Soldier, hoping to put him to sleep.

However, it didn't work. Sam sat there petting his head, gently brushing his fingers through his hair, but Soldier didn't respond to it at all, his glassy eyes stayed staring up at the ceiling. Sam sighed heavily, his head starting to develop the faintest whisper of what was going to become a throbbing headache. Poking at his skull to warn him of what was coming if he didn't get some sleep. 

"C'mon man. Just close your eyes." Sam nearly begged. Soldier didn't move. His lips moved the tiniest bit. Like he was murmuring something, talking to himself. But he's not making any sounds. Soldier blinked, wetting his dry eyes, they glistened under the dim light of the motel room like he was about to cry.

Sam's hand stilled on the top of his head. He brought his other hand up to hold his face almost instinctively. Soldier's chin was covered in stubble at this point, after days without shaving. Just long enough to be fuzzy instead of spiky against Sam's palm. He still didn't move other than his lips speaking silent whispers into the air. A single tear built at the outer corner of his left eye, gravity threatening to have it roll down the side of his face. Sam wiped it away with his thumb, sliding his hand from Soldiers head, down over his forehead, closing his eyes for him. He kept his hand over his eyes, hoping to will him into a slumber. At the very least give his eyes a break from blinking once every ten minutes for the past eight hours. 

Slowly removing his hand, he watched to see if Soldier would keep his eyes closed. Though he was still silently murmuring, he almost looked relaxed with his eyes closed, his breathing just a little deeper. 

Sam hung his head, his own eyes started to ache with the effort it took to keep them open. He can't sleep. What if Soldier needs him?

He went to stand up and fumbled. He straight up just didn't lift his foot enough and stumbled forward, managing to catch himself on the bedside table between their beds. His sigh came from his soul. He was too tired to even be mad at himself for stumbling around like a toddler who's just learned how to walk. 

Glancing back at Soldier, he caught himself thinking back to how all of this started. Finding him with desperate scratch marks on his muzzle from trying to tear it off his face. That can't have been the stoic version of Soldier. It must have been the real guy doing that. He's been phasing in and out of these different settings in his brain, overlapping but at the same time, completely separate. Like his subconscious is trying to break free but it always gets submerged beneath the programming. A constant cycle of being reset to the default, digging his way out and being sent back to the start again. 

Soldier sucked in a hurried breath and the muttering continued. Sam's eye's blinked closed slowly. He forced them back open.

Sam won't be of any use if he's exhausted to the point of collapse. Just an hour... Less than that. Forty minutes tops. Just to take the edge off. Let his brain rest for a little while. His exhausted brain had an easy time convincing himself that it was the correct action to take.

He tiredly set an alarm for forty minutes, then another for forty five minutes and another for fifty. He checked the time. Just after five in the afternoon. He could take a nap and then work out something for dinner. He has plenty of time.

He eased himself down into the bed, angled to face Soldier on the other bed. 

He was out seconds later.

-

/////////

**_---

............······–-----

A beautiful girl, dark hair, porcelain skin.... Ste--___»»**ve couldn't take his eyes off her.

B***____////··_-y whistled low and provocatively. "Damn St-----/e////____vie, she's a real looker. Ya' sure you can handle all that?"

Earning an elbow jab to his ribs, his b*_est fri-__**nd gave him a half-hearted stern look before meeting the girl halfway. Wanting to talk to her without Bu---___**//»»··y within earshot to make fun of him. 

He sat back with his drink, proud eyes on St-__**--//**-––··eve. The fingers of his left hand tapping on the booth table rhythmically. Feeling the smooth wood underneath his skin-----------------------

///////////////

********______.........

"Curl your left fist Soldier."

His throat tight, his eyes dry and worn. He didn't have the strength left to cry anymore. The leather strap pulled tightly over this mouth stopped him from swearing...or begging... whatever came out of his mouth depended on the day. When they let him speak at all. 

His chest aches. But he did as he was told. 

It felt wrong. The metal creaked and clicked as it curled. He couldn't close his fist the whole way. An older man with thin hair and an unpleasant face clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Hissing at his subordinates in Russian.

"What imbecile measured the hand? The finger length is all wrong. Dismantle it and do it again!" 

He couldn't understand what they were saying. Then he flinched as he felt the arm removed from the metal plated socket installed where his shoulder blade and his armpit should be. Felt wasn't quite the right word. It's not the right word for the sensation that travelled up the metal limb to his brain as he touched something with it or moved it. But he noticed it when it wasn't attached. 

He hadn't seen it but he could 'feel' it. The feeling that overwhelmed all others was the pain on the left side of his chest, his side, where the metal met his body. Metal grinding against bone, intruding where it wasn't supposed to be. His skin burning with infection lead to them removing it and starting again, adjusting their model, treating his wounds they inflicted on him and starting again.

He stopped trying to move. He'd been strapped to this table for what felt like weeks. Hands all over him, injecting something into him some days and taking from him on others. He spent every waking hour hooked up to a number of medical equipment to deal with his bodily functions while they kept him securely dead bolted down on the cold metal surface. As the days...weeks...–months?–-- went on, the methods they used to keep him secured grew more serious...Stronger. From leather to chain, then chain to thick plated metal. He didn't understand why. Were they that afraid of him escaping? He can't remember the last time he even tried to...

His side hurt less. Then not at all. The ache that coursed through the metal limb to his brain wasn't physical, but it settled deep in his heart. Festering, sinking deeper. Sending ripples of that ache through the rest of his body.

The ache became normal for him.

////----**_____________

»»---····__----/////*******...

The Winter Soldier program is a highly confidential operation.

Only authorized personnel may interact with the Asset.

Only authorized personnel may be aware of the existence of the Asset.

If the Asset is perceived or captured by unauthorized people's or persons who are not in collaboration with Hydra, they must be eliminated.

There must be no witnesses

The Winter Solder must eliminate all witnesses.

********_____--------..............

The Asset stood over the sleeping form of the medic.  

There must be no witnesses 

Metal hand curled at its side. The Asset examined the unconscious medic. The medic is in a deep sleep. Easy to kill. It can eliminate the witness without combat or danger to the Asset.

The Asset reached down and closed the metal hand over the medics throat.

"It's alright... You're safe here..."

The Asset stilled. 

The Assets hand absentmindedly went to its ribs, expertly cared for by the medic. Fingers clutching at the soft shirt.

////___--****··—*______--

***_____

//__---

..

The Asset removed it's hand. 

The Asset watched the medic sleep.

The Asset stood in place until the sky began to turn pink, then orange.

The medic would be very easy to kill.

Warmth piercing the cold. Soft words , soft hands. 

"...I'm gonna take care of you..."

The Asset ... does not want the medic to die

Furrowing it's brow, startled by its heart beating faster. The Asset stepped backwards, a hitch in its breath, it's fingers buzzing with nerves. 

The Asset must... return to base.

-

Bleary eyes slowly forcing themselves open as his consciousness returned to him. Sam took a few seconds to ease himself awake when suddenly, panic shot through him like a lightning strike. Brain suddenly wide awake and alert, processing the dark room around him. His hand snapped over to his silent phone, grabbing it and fumbling with the fingerprint scanner. The notification of three missed alarms lit up in the middle of his screen. 

He grunted to himself. He should have known he'd sleep like a rock after the last few days he's had. Scrambling upright and turning the bedside lamp on, the room illuminated instantly. Sam turned his head to see Soldier.

Sam's mouth went dry.

The bed is empty. Soldier's gone.

Panic surged in Sam's chest, shocking him fully awake. His head snapped towards the bathroom. Empty. It was at that moment when his brain processed the slight breeze coming from behind him. Sam turned to the front door that was left half open, the orange sky showing the final light of the day before it was cast into darkness. 

"Fuck–" Sam hissed, shoving his shoes on. Soldier's boots were still where Sam left them in the bathroom, covered in mud and blood. Sam's stomach lurched and he checked his gear, breathing a sigh of relief when everything was accounted for. He hadn't taken off with a scalpel or anything else dangerous. 

Grabbing the room key and darting out the door, closing it behind him. He had maybe an hour of sunlight left before he was searching in the pitch black. 

Why would he leave? What changed? Sam's heart was hammering in his chest as he ran out into the motel carpark, further into the town. People were still walking around, half of them finishing off their days out and the other half out for dinner or an evening walk with their partners or dogs. He frantically scanned every person for Soldier.

He's not sure how long he was wandering around for. He didn't even lay attention to the reactions. From the townspeople right away. He probably looked like a dad that misplaced a child he's so frantic.

Where would he go? Sam couldn't even begin to guess where his head is at. Fists clenched at his sides, he didn't realize his chest was heaving until a voice spoke up from beside him.

"Are you alright son?" An older man walking his dog flagged him down, coming to stand in front of him. Sam turned to the old man, suddenly forcing a smile, abruptly aware he might have to explain himself, though he doubted it was convincing.

"Uh–" Sam was panting, eyes still scanning his surroundings. He couldn't drag anyone else into this. He didn't want anyone offering to help him and coming into contact with a potentially very dangerous man, depending on what state Soldier is in. 

But someone might have seen him.

A hand gently laid on his arm, patting his shoulder. "Take a breath lad. You need a hand with something?" His blonde labrador was sniffing Sam's legs while they stood there. The dog stood up on Sam and the man shooed the dog to get off. "Bagel. Down." The dog sat a d the man returned his attention to Sam. "Anything I can do to help?"

Sam sucked in a breath. He's desperate. Sure this town isn't that big but he has no idea how long Soldier's been gone for. "Did you see a man come from the motel? About six foot, shoulder length brown hair– I don't know how long ago he left–"

"Slow down son." He patted Sam's arm again, twirling his dogs lead to stop him from jumping up on Sam again. The dog wasn't excited. She was just very slowly trying to stand up on Sam, like she was trying to get him to sit down.

The older man continued. "Your friend, he a kinda scary lookin' fella? Big white boy with the tattoos?" He gestured vaguely as he described who was on his mind.

Sam's brows pinched together. "Tattoos?" 

Nodding, the old man held up his left arm. "His whole left arm right? Got a sleeve of some kind? He stands out around here."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, though the feeling of relief didn't come with it. "Uh, yeah– yeah that's him. Did you see him?"

The man pointed further down the street, away from the motel, into the centre of town. "He was trudging through town not too long ago. Looked like he was on a mission. Never said a word either." Sam was ready to start running in the direction he pointed, but he knew he needed more info.

"How long?" Sam's eyes darted between the man and where he said Soldier went and the man shrugged.

"About forty minutes ago maybe? Possibly closer to an hour. You might wanna check the police station. People were definitely making calls about him. He mighta' gotten taken in."

Sam felt bad mentally dismissing this mans attempt at helpful advice. But... yeah, there was no chance of Soldier getting caught. There'll be dead cops before that happens. He doesn't hear any gun shots so he hopes he's in the clear for now. He forced another smile and nodded like he was considering it.

"Thank you–" he went to leave and the man spoke up again.

"You sure you don't need a hand?" He was somewhere between concerned and insistent. Sam held up a hand, a rushed placation.

"No– no, he uh." He said the first lie that came to his head. "He has PTSD. I think he's having an episode. So I really don't want anyone near him "

The man's face softened and firmed in quick succession. "Say no more son, my old man fought in world war two. I know all about it." He pulled out his phone and started tapping his thumb in the screen. "Let me make some calls. I'll keep an eye out for him."

Nerves jumped out of Sam's skin at the thought. "Thank you, I appreciate it but just– keep your distance. I'll handle it." He was thankful he ran into someone with some empathy for the situation, even if it was kind of a lie. 

"You gotta phone? I can let ya' know if someone spots him." 

Sam quickly spoke his phone number to Martin– Sam remembered to ask him for his name before speeding off, thanking him again. There were benefits to this being a small, close knit community. Sam was able to follow the trail of concerned townspeople. There was a group of people talking to a pair of local cops. Sam made himself small enough to hopefully sneak past them so he didn't get flagged down for questioning. He doesn't have the time. The sun is going down and if Sam has to delve into the unlit country highway or the even darker forest cresting the town, his chances of finding Soldier were slim.

He heard the strange siren of a small town police car and snapped his head to the source, it was a street over. Sam ducked down a side street to see where the car was going. It didn't seem to be in chase. It might be patrolling and using the siren to warn the townsfolk that they're looking for someone and to stay off the streets.

Sam leaned against the brick wall of the small, clean alley to think. Judging by what the guy with the dog said, he isn't in the lucid, angry persona since he apparently wasn't talking. So he must still be in classic Soldier mode. Soldier isn't going to go breaking into houses. He's not going to hide. He'd only leave if he felt the need to. Like when he disobeyed the order to lay down because Joaquín arrived at their camp by the crash site. Soldier attacked him to... Protect Sam? In his own weird way. Sam can't imagine how this is protecting him. Maybe his Winter Soldier programming has kicked in again and he's trying to locate Hydra.

Would he be heading back towards the crash? No, there's no way he'd be able to tell which direction it was in. Not to mention, it would be hours away on foot. Maybe he has last resort orders for if he gets lost or captured. If the tracker somehow can't find a signal, maybe he's supposed to report to a specific location. Surely Hydra would have a bunch of backups in place to make sure their secret project comes back to them. 

But that doesn't really help Sam if he doesn't know where that would hypothetically be.

Thunder boomed in the distance. Sam looked out over the expanse of sky over the town and the surrounding fields. Dark clouds were rolling in, bringing heavy rain along with it. The cold wind sent a harsh shiver through Sam's body but he breathed through it.

He had to make a call. He cant stand here and mull over his choices. He needs to make a decision. 

Sam deduced that Soldier probably wasn't in town anymore. There's no reason for him to be. He wouldn't go ransacking places for supplies or anything like that. He would just go. Until someone told him not to probably.

The town didn't just end and turn into a highway. There's farm land surrounding the town. Grape vines and orchards of fruit trees stretch out beyond the buildings. 

Sam just kept moving in the direction he was told Soldier went in and didn't make much in the way of turns. What are the chances Soldier just walked in a straight line and if Sam did the same he'd eventually catch up? He didn't have anything else to go on. 

He stuck close to a wall as the police car swept past him on the street, driving slowly, telling anyone still outside to go home or get into the closest building. He waited until it had disappeared around the corner, driving down the street Sam had just sprinted up. His phone rang and he panicked, scrambling for it like the police car might hear it over the low, wailing siren. 

The number wasn't in his contacts, he answered it and Martin from earlier, spoke without greeting himself. "Hey! Buddy 'o mine spotted your guy! He's lookin' pretty rough accordin' to him. Crazy look in his eyes."

Sam nearly choked on air, he inhaled so quickly. "Ah– great! Where?" He was trying to be polite despite his desperation.

"Saw him stumbling through the vines towards Randall's."

Sam tried not to grit his teeth at the lack of integral information. "Where's that?" Sam's stomach was knotting with nerves. He wanted to start sprinting but he didn't have a direction to sprint in.

"Follow the lemon trees son! The house is at the end of 'em." Sam was moving before he stopped talking.

"I'd hurry kid. I tried callin' him tellin' him not to shoot but he's never been a fan of visitors let alone trespassers."

"Great." Sam muttered, he doubted the phone receiver picked it up through the rush of air as he ran. He spoke louder, his feet hitting the ground hard. "I'm heading there now." He isn't even sure if he hung up or not, he didn't look, he just ran faster.

-

Mind flickering, staggering down the road, head throbbing, flashes of memories leaving an ache in his chest before they vanished, yet the ache remained.

"You deserve to have someone care about you."

Visions flashing before it's eyes. Blood splatters on walls, innocent bodies crumpling to the ground.

--__**-- -All because ///// they tried to help me...--*-__*-*-**

 Hydra eliminates all who dares stand against us.

The medic is going to die

They'll kill him if they find us

They'll kill the medic 

–_·····///**__––* Just like* //*_-_–––*_··· the others ··__––***///

Mind reeling, fingers twitching at its sides, The Asset stalled like a car in the wrong gear as his body tried to move.

The asset must

The asset must return to base

Protect at all cost

Go

Go

Get away from the medic.

Bare feet trudged through the dirt, vision doubled, heart beating rapidly against its ribs.

Need to go...need to go....can't happen again... Not again...

Wet earth caked on the underside of it's feet, between its toes, its breath shuddered. Cold.

--___**__--––··*****

B**___------y would gain and lose consciousness without a care from the people who buzzed around him. Continuing with whatever they'd been tasked to do with him, regardless of whether he was awake or not. He awoke with a feeding tube down his throat again and for the first time, he didn't panic. His body didn't seize and jolt, trying to reject the intrusion. It was a numb resignation. "Oh... this again." He thought to himself. He was used to it.

There used to be a point when B--__***__--y wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Back when he struggled, desperately pulling against the restraints before they made it so he couldn't move at all. Before he stopped racking his brain for a way out, trying to keep himself calm and sane. Hopeful of a miracle rescue. He wasn't sure when that changed. When he knew he didn't have a choice. The acceptance had cemented itself in his bones. His mind was an endless loop of fog, with fleeting, painful spurts of consciousness. Alert and alive before it was drowned out again. 

They stopped letting him sleep at some point. There was always someone standing by him, ready to dump water on his face or tase him to keep him conscious. Eventually his body was too exhausted to react to the sudden cold water or the taser. That was when Zola came back. 

Zola only spoke to him in Russian. That old, unpleasant man would return and kept saying the same words over and over and over. He would say them before allowing him to sleep, then he would wake him up with the same words. No one else spoke to him. He never heard anything else. Only those words, repeated, day after day. The last words he heard before he'd black out and the first words he'd hear after waking. He was never less tired. He doesn't know how long he was allowed to sleep for but he doubted it was more than minutes, maybe an hour. The days bled together. There were no windows in that room. He had no sense of the time that was passing him by. Then one day, the table folded back into a chair and he felt two smooth plates press against his temples. He stopped caring about time passing.

His mind slipped away from him. They put him in the cold. Always so cold.

__---***-––··**____

Someone's yelling at him. What are they saying? 

He...it...raised it's head to see an old man holding a rifle. Pointed at the Asset. 

Danger. 

Eliminate the threat.

The Asset turned to the old man and began walking towards him. The old man continued to yell until he fired, the Asset barely had to move his left arm to defend himself from the shot. As the old man recoiled from the rifle fire, the asset closed the gap, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and pulling it from the old man's hands. 

Tossing the gun to the side, the asset continued his forward movement as the old man retreated back towards his property, tripping over this feet.

Catching up to him easily, The Asset reached out and grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him away from his front porch like catching a kitten by the nape of its neck.

The old man wailed. The Asset reached his metal hand towards his throat.

Eliminate the threat.

"Soldier! Stop–"

-

Sam's lungs burned, gasping in the biting cold air. Adrenaline powering his dead sprint as rain started to lightly sprinkle down over the town. 

A gunshot rang out and Sam ran harder towards where the shot echoed out from. The closer he got, he could hear frantic yelling. Panicked threats that turned to begging. Sam ducked under some low branches that were blocking his line of sight and once he was on the other side, he could see Soldier. Holding an old man Sam guessed is Randall, by the back of his jacket. Moving to grab his neck.

"Soldier! Stop–" His voice hoarse, not yet having the opportunity to stop and relieve his dry throat. Thankfully, Soldier froze, his head turning to the sound of Sam's voice. 

But something's different. Instead of that stoic expression, ready to complete whatever task Sam set out for him, Soldier's eyes went wide. His hand opened, releasing Randall, allowing him to scurry inside and slam the door, but he didn't look happy to see Sam. He didn't look indifferent. He looks scared. 

Breaching the end of the orchard, half a dozen yards from Soldier, Sam came to a stop, panting. Raising a hand, Sam lost track of what he was going to say once he noticed Soldier was trembling. Whether it was from the cold or something else, Soldiers body shook involuntarily as Sam slowly inched forward.

"What are ya' doin' out here man? Don't wanna get rained on, do ya'?" Sam kept his voice light and soft, the thunder rolling over them, louder and closer than before. Soldier started shaking his head, but it wasn't in response to Sam. He squeezed his eyes shut and his hands went to his head, fingers digging into his scalp, face still terrified. But instead of doing what people normally do when they're scared. Bucky just stood there like he had already accepted the outcome. Like he didn't have a choice to do anything but whatever was going to come out of Sam's mouth.

"No...no, no, no, no, no, no, no–...." Soldier gripped his hair, his knees threatening to give way underneath him. 

"Soldier..." Sam closed the gap while Soldier hung his head, quietly repeating 'no' over and over. "Everything's alright man. Let's go back to the mote–"

"No!–" Soldier cut him off, stumbling backwards, chest heaving. "They're coming– I can't– I can't do it..."

Can't do what? He's speaking nonsense again. 

No, wait. Not nonsense. Pieces of fractured thoughts that don't link together. Disjointed and and cast afloat. Speaking some and the rest getting lost in his head.

Sam took another cautious step forward. "Slow down Soldier. Just breathe." If he can help him calm down, maybe he'll have a coherent thought. Maybe he'll be able to speak what's tormenting him.

Soldier looked a corner away from a panic attack. "You can't be here...I can't–" His voice cracked, eyes glazed over, face beginning to pale. "I can't save you–"

Sam could see his breath as he panted in the cold air. He has so much bouncing around in his mind. Decisions and orders from separate contexts linking together in his broken mind, fusing into one panicked explosion of choices that Soldier feels compelled to carry out.

But he's not going through it by himself.

"I don't need saving." Sam took one final step and put his hands on Soldier's arms. He couldn't tell who was colder. Actually definitely Soldiers left arm, Sam started to feel a dull ache in his fingers after coming into contact with the ice cold metal. "We're in this together, right? You and me. We're gonna figure this out Soldier."

Soldier huffed and panted, staring at Sam's chest, fingers curling around his shirt, damp with rain and wear in equal measures. Sam's hold on his firmed and Soldiers eye's came into focus, just for a moment. Sam gazed at those blue eyes like maybe he could see into his soul. To try and get a glimpse of who he really is. 

"...James."

His voice alone startled him, let alone what he said. Sam's eyes zeroed in on him, tilting his head down to see Soldiers face past his hair. "What?"

Soldier swallowed, exhaling softly, an air of clarity in his voice. "...my name." He breathed. "...it's James."

Sam didn't get a chance to voice his shock before Soldier toppled forward. Sam brought his arms up in time to catch him and hold him partially upright. 

"Sol– James? Hey–" Sam eased them both down to their knees and with James's full weight leaning on him, Sam craned his neck to try and see his face. Out cold again. This man passes out more than a princess from a seventies movie. Sam's own little beefcake damsel in distress. His face pressed into Sam's shoulder while he sat there and breathed. 

He didn't have much of an opportunity to relax, as the rain started beating down on them. Sam looked around for shelter but the only house was Randall's and Sam didn't see that happening.

An engine drove through the heavy rain and Sam turned around to see a small blue truck as it honked. Covered in rust and small dents, it pulled up in front of Randall's and a familiar voice called out, followed by a bark.

"C'mon son! Rain ain't gonna let up anytime soon!" The man from earlier called out through the barely cracked window. Sam hauled James up, an arm around his waist and throwing a limp arm over this shoulders, dragging him over to the truck and getting him into the backseat. The Labrador instantly started sniffing James and licking the rain off his face. Sam quickly jumped in the front, the sound of rain dampening once he got the door closed, shutting the window as well. 

Letting out a heave of a sigh, Sam wiped some of the rain off his face with his shirt. "Thanks. Again." He glanced behind him at the dog wagging its tail, licking the same spot on James's head. "You didn't have to do all that."

The old car shook as it drove off the dirt road of Randall's property, back onto flat ground. "Ah, don't mention it. Call it a soft spot for the uniform. I know what serving does to a person." Martin struggled a little with the gear shift, playing it off with a smile in Sam's direction.

He moved the rear view mirror so he could see the backseat. "He alright?"

Sam relaxed back into the chair after another prolonged look at James. Double checking he was there. "Yeah. I think so. I- uh... Don't know what state he'll be in when he wakes up." Trying to subtly prepare this guy for James' special traits in case he suddenly wakes up was just one of the things at the forefront of Sam's mind. 

"Well he won't have to worry about the trigger happy farmer." Martin turned off onto another dirt road. Sam didn't notice at first. He's too exhausted.

In Randall's defense. James didn't look so much disoriented, as much as he looked crazed, or on hard drugs or both before Sam got there. Sam still doesn't agree with wildly shooting at an unknown person but he can understand the fear.

When the car hit a bump, driving onto a dirt road again. Sam clocked onto the fact that they were driving further away from town. Sam didn't know anything about how the roads worked around here so he wasn't going to say anything at first. Until he realised he hadn't asked for a drop off location.

"Could you just drop us off back at the motel? It's where we've been staying..." He couldn't really see out of the window, nor did he know what direction the motel was even in, but he gestured out of it anyway. 

Martin sucked in a short breath through his teeth. "I can if ya' want– but the local PD will be looking for him and then you by correlation." He gave Sam half a glance then put his eyes back on the dark, rainy road. "There aren't that many places to look around here. Better to keep a low profile, at least for a day or two."

Sam left his mouth slightly parted for a few seconds. He didn't know how to argue that. The motel would be the first place they look for two newcomers. 

"Ah... Alright. One night won't hurt." Sam tried to hide his reluctance, smiling thankfully instead.

After a bit longer, they pulled up to Martin's house. It was fully dark, the only light in the country was from the single porch light and the stars and moon. Inside, the house itself is sparse. Minimalist but not as a style choice. Seemed like there were more things for the dog than there were for a person. It's a pretty big house too, so the lack of stuff just makes it look bigger.

The dog was trotting alongside as Sam half carried, half dragged James through the house. He cringed at the trail of mud he was leaving behind. "I'm so sorry, I'll clean this up once I've sorted him out–"

"You take care of your boy. Let me know if you need anything." He shucked off his wet jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. "Bathroom's down that hallway, second on the left." 

Sam nodded a thanks and followed the directions. James is caked in mud from the knees down. He left barefoot and clearly didn't care to watch where he was stepping. The mud is thick enough to hide the spots of blood poking through on a closer look.

Sam eased him down into the tub just to contain the mud and got to work gently cleaning him up. He had a bunch of cuts on his feet, dirt, rocks and tiny sharp sticks that Sam had to gently wash away. Sam wanted to make sure he got all of the debris out of his wounds because they'd probably heal over in an hour or so and he didn't want anything trapped under healed skin. It didn't take too long and he managed to avoid getting Soldiers pants soaked.

With James out cold again, Sam had some freedom to get to know this incredibly helpful man. He'd need to transfer James somewhere else that isn't a bathtub first. Turning around, he saw the dog sitting there politely at the doorway to the bathroom. Sam smiled at her and held a hand out for her to sniff before giving her a pat on the head. "Well hey there. Bagel right?" Her tail started to wag but she didn't follow Sam when he walked to find her owner. She stayed sitting attentively at the bathroom door, looking over at the tub. 

Walking into the kitchen, Sam found Martin again as he placed a kettle on the stove. "Sorry– Do you have any disinfectant? Wipes, cream, doesn't really matter." 

The man seemed almost as lost in the home as Sam is. Sam watched him open one cupboard looking for something before finding it behind a different door. "Uh. I think there's some under the bathroom sink." He didn't sound sure at all.

Sam paused before going back to James. "Everything okay?" The last thing he wanted was to cause this man stress. 

Martin's face quickly shifted to a smile "Yeah, no worries here lad." He waved a hand flippantly. "Still memorizing the place."

"Just moved in?" Sam asked conversationally. It would explain the lack of anything. Though it's not like there are any moving boxes or anything.

"Sorta." He gestured vaguely to his surroundings. "It's my brother's place." He nodded his head to the side. "Was– my brother's place. He passed and left me his house and his dog." He pointed to the Labrador sitting at the doorway to the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Sam went to show sympathy but was met with another flippant hand wave. 

"He was kind of an ass. Hadn't talked to him in years. Not since he moved here to the middle of nowhere." He sighed, looking over the innards of the home.  "Believe it or not, I haven't changed anything. It looked like this when I got here."

Sam was going to stay quiet and let him vent, if that's what he needed. But instead, Martin forced that big smile again, performing a fake air of nonchalance. "Anyway. When you're done cleaning him up, you can move him to the spare room. First on the right." He pointed down a second hallway and Sam gave him another grateful smile. 

"Thank you, again. We'll be out of your hair as soon as possible, I promise." 

He had his back to Sam while he spoke. "I wouldn't kick ya' out. The company is nice. Entertaining too!" Turning around, he held up a mug and wordlessly raised it to ask if Sam would like a hot drink. Sam shook his head. He couldn't think about sitting and relaxing until he'd gotten James settled. Though a hot drink for James wouldn't be a bad idea if he wakes up soon.

"Something funny?" Martin's voice knocked Sam out of his head and he locked back onto Martin. 

"Hm? Sorry?"

"You were smiling. Couldn't tell if you were thinking 'bout something funny or if it was a dopey lovestruck thing." Martin joked and Sam made a mental note to keep his face in check. He hasn't had to worry about anyone else while he's been stuck in that motel room with James.

Sam excused himself to bite back another smile. Sam found himself smiling just a little whenever he said the name, even in his head. His name is James. James. After everything awful, it's crazy however his one thing has reinvigorated Sam's resolve. 

He side stepped passed Bagel again to fish around under the bathroom sink. He found some disinfectant wipes which would do fine. He double checked there was nothing stuck in James' feet before finishing up grabbing a towel and drying him off as best as he could. He did a quick sweep for a hair dryer but there wasn't one, so Sam towel dried James before hauling him up over his shoulders by his arms. He managed to get James up onto his back and carried him to the spare room. Sam could hear the dog trotting behind him. 

Sam smiled, craning his head to see the dog. "Oh hey cutie. You sussing us out?" She stayed just behind him until he had lowered James onto the end of the bed. She sat just inside the doorway and watched.

James' clothes are still damp and a little muddy from getting rained on and Sam's bags are still back at the motel so he didn't have anything for him to change into. He didn't want to encroach on Martin's hospitality more than he already had but he also didn't want to spread muck everywhere.

Before he could even ask, Martin knocked on the doorframe, holding some folded clothes in his other hand. "Here. My brother was a big man. Ya' human wall of beef should fit into these. Might be a little big on you but you're also too big for my clothes, so..." 

Sam took the clothes exuding as much gratefulness as he could. "We'll make it work. Th–"

"Boy you're gonna have to stop saying thank you. At this point I'm just gonna assume you've said it after every sentence."

Sam really didn't want to get used to this help. They definitely couldn't stay here long. But God, is it nice having someone lending a hand. "Careful. If you keep being so nice, I'll never leave." He joked, earning a chuckle from Martin. "Seriously I can't thank you enough."

Martin looked away as he replied "Well, maybe you young strong fellas can help me clear out the garage when he wakes up." 

Sam's instinct was to say Yes. Of course. I would love to be helpful. But he can't go making plans and promises when he has an unpredictable variable to take care of, first and foremost. Sam smiled anyway He has zero intention of being a free loader. "Just say the word man. I owe ya'."

Martin was still looking anywhere but Sam. He was reminded of how Cass and AJ look at their feet or the wall when they lie to their mom. "There's leftover spaghetti on the stove. I always make too much." He pat on the doorframe twice and went to leave before turning back again.

"Oh, and I dunno how close you two are but there's another room down the hall if you don't feel like sharing." He glanced from Sam, to James, then back at Sam. 

Sam wished he could take full advantage of the extra room but he probably wouldn't be sleeping tonight. "Thanks. I'll probably stay in here. I don't want him waking up on his own and not knowing where he is."

Martin shrugged with that same feigned nonchalance and smiled. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna head to bed. See you boys in the morning."

"Goodnight." Sam closed the door just enough so the dog could get out if she wanted. But no, the dog preferred to watch Sam struggle trying to change James' clothes while he lay there, about as easy to move as a slab of concrete. Sam eventually got him into the dry clothes, tucked him into bed and was left to his thoughts.

Martin is insanely trusting. He's just invited them into his home and gone to bed? Sam is from a friendly small community too, so it's not too out of the realm of possibility for him. But his momma never would have let a random man sleep over, no matter how nice he seemed. 

He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He also wasn't going to turn down the spaghetti. Sam looked to Bagel, sitting on the ground at the end of the bed.

"You gonna keep James company for me?" He pet the top of her head and her tail gently wagged, appreciating the attention. She looked at Sam as he stepped away, then lay down facing James.

Sam smiled. So cute. The guard dog gets a guard dog. Sam had a cat like that when he was a kid. Whenever him or Sarah was sick or even just sad, she would hover around to keep an eye on them. Bagel must think James needs her.

He got to the kitchen and boy, Martin was not kidding about the leftovers. There's enough here for a family of six. Sam doesn't know how someone could accidentally make this much. Maybe he's lunch prepping? Sam looked around for a used bowl, plate, something that looked like it had spaghetti on it at one point. He couldn't see anything. There were other dishes in the sink that were unwashed. Martin said leftovers so he must have had some...

The wind whipped trees and debris against the house outside, the rain poured heavier. A well timed flash of lightning, immediately followed by a crash of thunder made Sam flinch as he was neck deep in thought 

Sam found himself hesitating before grabbing a serving. Standing there with the pot lid in one hand, looking down at the deep red meat and tomato sauce. He placed the lid back down over the pot and  walked back to the spare room. He didn't have a word to describe the feeling in the back of his mind. But what's important, is that James is safe. Also his name is James. Sam would prefer it if he didn't need to have a mental break to remember details about himself but hey, progress is being made. 

He walked back into the room and closed the door behind him. James hadn't moved but Bagel shuffled closer. Sam changed into the borrowed clothes, flinching again when thunder boomed right over them. He sighed. He isn't usually this jumpy. Lack of sleep and zero relief from stressors and anxiety does that apparently. Being actively on the run doesn't help either. He closed his eyes to settle his heart rate and heard the gentle tapping of claws before he felt a paw on his leg. Bagel was sitting right at his feet, standing up on her back legs a little to paw at Sam. The smile that spread over his face was automatic. He crouched down to give her some scritches.

"Awh, you're a good girl aren'tcha?" He scratched behind her ears and her tail wagged politely. "You wanna hop up here?" He patted the bed by James' feet and Bagel tilted her head. The bed isn't that big but Sam is more than happy to make room for an adorable dog. He patted the bed again, trying to coax her to jump up but she just shifted her front paws, opening her mouth to make this tiny 'ruff' noise. She seemed to favor sitting on the ground. 

Sam felt a cold shiver and touched the hardwood flooring floor beneath them. It's cold to the touch. Her paws much be chilly. He remembered seeing about three different dog beds scattered around the home. He darted out of the room to grab one. He stepped out into the dark hallway and heard a door close at the same time. Sam looked down the empty hallway. The sound was followed by the rumbles and crashing of the storm outside.

Sam used his phone light to see and grabbed the first dog bed he saw, returning to the room and closing the door. That same feeling rose in the back of his head, but once the door was closed behind him, there was a strange feeling of ease. The closest he could compare it to was like when you're a kid and you're afraid to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Irrational and fleeting. Gone once the lights are on.

Putting the dog bed on the ground right by James, Bagel immediately stepped into it and lay down. Sam gave her another pat, looking over James as he slept. He looked peaceful. His brow relaxed, breathing deeply. These moments are almost nice when Sam doesn't think about how Hydra is trying to track them down. It's around ten at night and while Sam could absolutely fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow, he felt like he needed to stay up just a little longer. He didn't have his phone charger on him so he couldn't use it for too long. Couldn't risk it dying in case Joaquín needs to call him, or vice versa. 

He needs to focus on collecting evidence that'll help James in the long run. Helping him get his memories back won't matter if he immediately gets sent to prison. 

Any plans he could come up with would work a hundred times better with James' full cooperation. Ideally his voluntary cooperation and not the brainwashing. He and Joaquín are looking for someone who knows something about Hydra. Hypothetically, nobody knows more than James. He must have been somewhat conscious during everything they did to him. Maybe soon he'll be able to question him and get actual answers instead of what feels like the automated FAQ's of a big company.

He glanced around the room. There were some cardboard boxes stacked up in the corner and out of curiosity, Sam walked over to take a look. They were filled with books, the one on top in particular, was filled to the brim with self help books. Therapy books about dealing with trauma, stuff about self idealization and self worth, books about meditation and finding inner peace. Every single one has clearly gone unread. Their soft covers without a crease or even a slight bend. The edges of the pages still crisp and untouched. 

The meditation books caught Sam's attention. He's been feeling like he's emotionally tightrope walking for the last few days. Maybe he'll have some luck and find some useful information behind all the garbage that's usually in these types of things.

He picked up a book and flicked through it. Most of these types of "health guidelines" are just the same shit rehashed from a different white woman, but there's a reason they reuse the same information. It's typically pretty solid.

Upon closer examination, the book was about eight years old. Sam would just Google tips but this town has zero internet connection. The old book will have to do. He took a quick look around for anything else on mental exercises and meditation and found another that looked equally as gimmicky but more on the "natural remedies for ailments" side of things. 

Sam has enough critical thinking skills to ignore the horseshit that no doubt exists in both of these books. But they both have solid exercises that could be good for James to practice. Get him used to thinking for himself again and get back in control of his own mind.

He read a bit more. As he expected, a lot of it was diet fads and exercise trends that are spoken like universal health fixes but only actually work on people with fast metabolism and no prior health issues. But the meditation part was pretty standard. A guideline to a simple mind relaxing meditation. Clearing your mind, focusing. Sam let the book flop onto his lap while he thought. Maybe meditation isn't the first step. James will probably be great at sitting there for long periods of time not thinking but Sam isn't sure if that counts as meditation when James does it.

He picked up the other book filled with natural remedies and for the most part, all the information was obvious. How to realign your body, mind and soul. Exercise, eat healthy, get lots of sleep...

Sam paused, his eyes stalling on the word.

Sleep.

Sam's eyes traveled to James, relaxed and at ease. The polar opposite of what he exudes when he's awake. 

Sam tapped on the book as he thought about James, his situation, the whole series of events...

An old torture method for POW's was denying them sleep. The longer they went without sleep, the more malleable their minds were. They could get the prisoners to tell them things they wouldn't have if they were well rested. They could convince the prisoners they were friends, that they had their best interests. It was so easy to simply deny their minds rest so they were too tired to resist the interrogation. Too tired to argue. To fight back.

James doesn't sleep unless Sam helps him to or unless he passes out from mental exhaustion. This must be how Hydra fucked him up so bad. Hydra had to have been keeping his mind from resting to stop him from thinking clearly. It would have made him more susceptible to whatever methods they used to brainwash him. Whatever they did to him would just sink right into that sleep deprived brain with zero resistance.

It made sense to Sam. James had his first little episode after one day of mostly resting. Then, he had another episode after another night of sleep.

Sam almost chuckled, feeling damn near delirious.

 Is it that simple? Does he just need to get James to keep sleeping? Obviously it won't fix everything but maybe he can help dilute some of the dazed, spacey fog-brain that James has been phasing in and out of.

The human mind is capable of truly psychotic things when the sleep deprivation is severe enough. Did Hydra weaponize that too?

As time passed, Sam's back started to ache so he got into bed beside James, sitting against the headboard. His neck started to get sore so he shuffled down a little, then he was uncomfortable so he shuffled down a little more until he was just fully in bed.

So much for trying to stay awake. 

-

"What is your name?"

He asks the same question every time they unfreeze him. The correct answer in the back of his head but __*_--––__'s too afraid to say it. He knows what happens when he says it. It's a cruel kind of torture. Making a person fear saying their own name. Making them associate the name they've had their whole life with pain. *-_-__-** doesn't know how long it took, how many weeks or months it took them to slowly pry him open, but eventually that name retreated back into the deepest parts of his mind where he couldn't fish it back out if he tried. When he remembered wanting to at all.

He didn't speak. Zola's lips curved up into a smile that could curdle milk. Delirious with satisfaction at his secret project finally coming to fruition. But even so, before he had full control over his still frozen joints, they propped him up in the chair. The fear in his eyes was all Zola needed to see to know his work wasn't quite done yet. There was still a hint of the man he used to be. A man who fears for his life, who's afraid of pain. A man who cares about his future, a man who has dreams and goals. Zola knew his project wouldn't work if any of that was left. If there was any semblance of who he was, who he used to be, it needed to be stripped away.

They made him sit there for hours. Maybe it was days. They didn't do anything to him but he was waiting for something to happen. Fidgeting in torturous anxiety, knowing something was coming but not knowing what. Twitching and flinching at every sound. Anticipation for something to happen. They hadn't left him alone for this long in ages. Left to sit with his own thoughts. But the difference this time was that he didn't have any other thoughts. The only person he thought about was Zola. What he was going to do the next time he walked in. What he was going to say. He's waiting on it. 

The first time his eyes snapped to Zola like a dog hearing a bag of treats, his stomach twisted itself into a knot. Some part of him was still alive, trying to claw it's way back to the drivers seat, but that part was swallowed up too easily, slipping away before he could even think to hold onto it.

He just stood in front of him and smiled. Taking in the night and day difference between the man they first brought in and the shell he had before him now. 

He hummed and clicked his tongue, experimentally squeezing his bicep. He didn't move. 

"Flex." He did.

Zola made a disapproving noise. Something in his brain twitched. "I'd hoped the cryofreeze would slow the muscle atrophy more than this..." 

He shrugged, dropped his hand, bringing to to join the other behind his back. "No matter. We will be able to remedy that now. Won't we Soldier? Your training can begin."

*_-––* didn't speak. It didn't even occur to him to respond. He just stared at Zola. The longer he stared, blank and stoic, the more Zola's grin grew.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind. That it had been so long since he'd seen the sun. So long since he'd left this room. 

He can't remember the last time he slept. They freeze him but it's not the same. His body is rested but his mind isn't. More and more of his brain gets peeled away so they can worm their way inside him and the more sleep deprived he is, the less he fights it. The less he recalls the need to fight it. The less he recalls what life was like before this. 

He used to try and hold on to it. But then it started to hurt. It hurt when he tried to think of the faces of the people he loves and came up blank. Trying to remember his life made him ache and pairing it with the physical pain that he experienced daily... It was just too much to bear.

So he stopped.

It was a relief when he finally let go. The stress and anxiety was gone, the emotional ache and the fear. It all drained away.

He's empty now. Numb. No more pain. Just nothing. But after being tortured for so long...he leaned right into it. He craved feeling nothing. It was better than the alternative.

He let the nothingness take him.

-

Sam woke up as the sun poked in through the gaps in the blinds. He nuzzled his face back down into what his half asleep brain assumed was a pillow. With a more conscious mind, it was clear it was too hard for be a pillow. 

He abruptly realised he was laying on James. At some point last night, Sam snuggled right up to James' side and put his head on the space between his shoulder and chest. And his tired ass slept like a rock for the rest of the night.

Sam sat up quickly, putting a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe the warmth of James' chest from his skin. He must have stayed there all night because there was an indent from a crease in James' shirt on the side of Sam's face. Sam wishes he was surprised. He's always been a cuddler. Basically everytime he sleeps next to someone he wakes up hugging them. He just latches onto the closest warm body like a barnacle. And James is a furnace.

James hadn't moved since Sam lay him down. Though his arm was out to the side where Sam was laying. Sam must have moved James' arm when he was half asleep or something. At least he's still sound asleep and Sam didn't wake him up.

He figured he should update Joaquín. Walking out of the room, Bagel came with him to the back door, she went outside with him to do her business. He pulled out his phone and paused. Sure everything's sorted out now but he didn't want Joaquín worrying about him.

Sam decided on sending him a short, 'How's everything going on your end?' with a picture of Bagel. It was probably going to take all morning to send since his phone has barely one bar, but he knows Joaquín would love her. He'll fill him in once they've made it to another town.

Bagel sat at the back door to be let back in. Sam took a couple more deep breaths of the clean, country air before opening the door and stepping back inside the quiet, dark house, barely lit by morning light. Sam watched her trot back into the spare room with James. 

Sam sauntered in after her and upon walking into the room, Sam blinked in surprise. James was sitting up, looking down at Bagel, who was looking up at him, her tail wagging softly, sweeping across the floor.

Sam felt his heart rate pick up, a part of him almost nervous to potentially talk to him. Inhaling, he stepped closer to the bed. "James?" He didn't acknowledge him. Sam stepped closer, leaning down slightly. "James? You alright?" Voice soft but wary.

He didn't move. Upon closer inspection, he wasn't looking at Bagel, just in her general direction, eyes cast down, blank and glazed over. Sam's heart sank into his stomach.

"...Soldier?"

Soldier turned his head, eyes meeting Sam's. Aura changing abruptly, like a sentinel on guard.

Pressing his lips together in a line, Sam forced a tight smile. "Are you alright?"

Soldier nodded. "Gotov podchinit'sya."

Sam shook his head. His Russian isn't good enough to catch it when he's not prepared for it. "I–...could you repeat that?"

"He said ready to obey." Martin appeared behind Sam, looking wearily at Soldier, however the look faded once he saw Sam had whipped his head around to look at him. 

The smile may have been an attempt to not look uneasy. "Ya' didn't mention your boy is a Russki."

"He's not." Sam said quickly and a little defensively, even though he's not sure why. Or if it's the truth. It's only that his English is so clear with no hint of an accent. "He just...gets confused when he's like this."

Soldier was still staring at Sam like Martin wasn't even in the room. "Kakova moya direktiva?"

Sam heard the word directive and can assume the rest. He shook his head, putting his hands on Soldiers arms and gently pushing him back down to lean against the headboard.

"You just relax, okay man? I'll bring ya something to eat." Sam's just glad he's speaking. Doesn't matter if it's only in Russian. Soldier allowed himself to be pushed down, keeping that frightening eye contact locked in on Sam.

Martin jumped in so quickly Sam felt like he needed to whip his head around again to be polite to his host. "Oh don't worry lad, I'll fix ya' something." He instantly started walking towards the kitchen and Sam picked up a light jog to catch up with him.

"Hold up. At least let me help. I physically can't sit here and let you do everything for me." Sam gave a kind smile to Martin, who agreed somewhat reluctantly with another forced smile. Is he awkward? Sam understands if he's a little uncomfortable. Though that kinda contradicts how insistent he's been with the hospitality. Sam really doesn't want to overstay their welcome.

Sam opened the fridge and blinked in shock at how much food was in there. Was Martin planning a party? He was stocked with enough food to feed multiple people for a week.

"You having guests over?" Sam commented on the fridge and Martin spoke over this shoulders from where he stood by the stove, looking at his phone. 

"No one but you two "

Sam hummed and brushed it off. Pushing down that needling feeling again in favor of respecting this kind helpful man. He just wishes he could calm down. The whole "being hunted for helping a brainwashed man escape servitude" is unsurprisingly putting him on edge.

Sam helped out as they cooked up eggs, bacon and enough pancake mix for Soldiers appetite. He also found the biggest cup he could find and filled it up with water, fully planning on ordering Soldier to drink it all. 

He kept up a casual conversation with Martin as they cooked. Asked him a little bit about his brother. He was in the army and got honorably discharged, then disappeared off the face of the earth and moved out here. Martin's been trying to sort out what he wants to do with everything that got left to him, namely the house, everything in it and Bagel. 

Sam couldn't shake the feeling that he was stressed. Or maybe frustrated. Stress makes sense. Estranged brother dies and leaves him a bunch of paperwork and a living thing to take care of. But it almost feels like Martin's in a rush or something. Like he's trying to make something happen quickly. He kept glancing at the food, to Sam, over to his phone on the counter, looking almost nervous before he forced another smile at Sam. All it did was make Sam feel like he was definitely overstaying his welcome and they should get back to the motel as soon as possible. 

Noon sounds good. Let Soldier eat and relax a little, then they'll make their way back into town and find a way out of here. Maybe there's a bus service that runs between towns out here. They might get lucky. Joaquín is there as a last resort but Sam can't keep calling him to act as a taxi service. Even if Joaquín would absolutely risk getting in trouble with their commander to come and help in person again.

Bagel trotted out and sat in front of her food bowl. Martin gave her a double take. "Ah. Right. Hold on girl..." He shook his head, heading over to a cupboard in the hallway by the laundry, presumably where the dog food is. Sam took the opportunity to go get Soldier. He can eat at the table instead of in bed or on the floor for once. He poked his head in the door and Soldiers eyes snapped to him. Sam nodded towards the kitchen. "C'mere. Have some breakfast."

Sam got a head start walking back to the kitchen, knowing it wouldn't be long before he had Soldier walking on his heels. 

Soldier inhaled his breakfast as usual, then he stood up, standing to attention. Sam and Martin were still eating and chatting. Martin let out a short, nervous laugh. "He's uh, attentive isn't he?"

Sam resisted gritting his teeth behind his lips. It was too much to hope that Soldier could tone it down in company. It was Sam's turn to force a smile. "He sure is...almost by design." Sam murmured the last part into his coffee. 

"How'd you two meet then?" 

Sam felt his entire body stall at the question. Martin had gone back to eating, knife and fork scraping on the plate.

"We uh, met at a Vet center." Sam nodded approvingly at his own quick lie. He's automatically truthful out of habit, as he rarely has anything to hide. So he wasn't totally confident in how believable his lies are. "One of those support programs where you join a lil' club." 

Martin nodded more like he was just assessing the information rather than being interested in the response. Sam was waiting for him to ask what was up with Soldier but he seemed more interested in continuing asking Sam pointed questions about their current circumstances. How they ended up here, what they're doing out here. Where they're going. Sam did his best to stumble through vague, yet believable answers. He didn't wanna go into too much detail and trap himself later when he inevitably doesn't remember what he lied about.

Sam could see out of the corner of his eye that Soldier was watching Martin like a hawk. He doesn't look like he's about to lunge at him like he was with Joaquín, so Sam's alright with cautiously allowing him to exist near Martin without throwing orders at him. 

He kept that cautious eye on him as he finished eating, then stood up to clear the table. Martin didn't object this time, just said thank you. Sam turn the tap on to start filling the sink when Martin walked up beside him. 

"Oh, that reminds me lad–" Martin put a hand on Sam's arm. A completely casual gesture that was met with swift movement from behind. 

Soldier slammed his hand down on the counter between Sam and Martin like he was making a loud noise to scare away a wild animal. Martin retracted his arm, jumping back. Soldier glared a hole through Martin, his other arm wrapped around Sam, holding him as close as possible. Sam shifted in his hold, putting his hand over Soldiers hand that's gripping his waist. He spoke calmly despite the situation. "Hey, cool it. I'm not in any danger here." He gently went to shift out of Soldiers hold, but Soldier just tightened his grip protectively. Sam moved his hand to Soldier's chest to try and push away again, only pushing lightly, expecting Soldier to get the hint again and step away, but he didn't. 

Sam didn't feel unsafe, the complete opposite actually. He did feel nervous for Martin though. He tilted his head to try and see Soldiers face. "Hey–" Sam stilled when he saw his eyes.

Soldier's death glare on Martin was significantly more intense than anything Sam had seen thus far. Pupils so small they were barely visible in the piercing blue. When he glared at Joaquín, he almost looked more irritated than angry. This was pure rage. Like Martin was personally responsible for the death of a loved one. Had Soldier noticed something that set off an alarm in his head? The only explanation Sam could think of was that Soldier's misinterpreted something as danger again. 

Sam stopped trying to push out of Soldiers hold and let him act as a human shield against zero attackers. He thought back to last night and that needling feeling in the back of his head that something was off.

Why though? All he's learnt is mostly about Martin's brother. A hermit, a recluse and he owned more things for the dog than things for people.

But why would there be a spare room made up? There's barely furniture in the rest of the house but there's a fully furnished spare bedroom with a queen bed?

Then there's the fridge, last night's dinner, Martin's insistence that they stay here instead of back at the motel and the fact that Sam has clocked every one of his forced and fake smiles...

And probably the biggest thing Sam's taken note of. Martin hasn't reacted to Soldiers arm once. He's definitely seen it. Sam completely forgot to cover it. He'd figured that last night to was too dark to really see anything but this morning it was clear as day. Very obviously not a tattoo. Is he just being polite? Minding his own business?

Sam can't tell the difference between his normal train of thought and what's been brought on by paranoia. Arguing with himself about what's deemed rational and what's not. 

Taking a breath, he mentally slapped himself. What Sam knows as a fact, is that Martin helped him find Soldier and has been kind and hospitable. He can't let himself spiral. 

Sam cupped Soldiers jaw and turned his face towards him, looking him right in his eyes. "Soldier. Stand down."

All at once, his body language shifted. Falling into the stoic bodyguard persona. Face blank and indifferent. Sam sighed, stepping in front of Soldier, between him and Martin who was looking discontent to say the least. "I'm really sorry about him. He's not a bad guy, I promise." Once again, Sam is technically lying but it came out easily. It doesn't feel like a lie to Sam. He just truly wants to believe it himself. 

Martin cleared his throat nervously, faking a smile again. "No worries here lad. I should keep my hands to myself anyway."

Sam tried to carry a comforting, assuring aura. "What were you gonna say?" Calling back to before Soldiers little display.

"Oh right! I uh, was gonna ask if you two needed anything from town. I'm gonna take Bagel for a walk and pick up a few things myself." 

Sam didn't even consider it. "No, we're good. It's about time we leave. Thank you for all of your help but we needa get moving." The sooner they get going, maybe Sam's nerves will finally settle. Give him a break at least.

Martin replied quickly. "Oh? Ya' mean back to the motel or leaving town?" He inquired and Sam waved a hand vaguely. 

"Both. This was just a pit stop."

"You got your own car? Without one you'll have to wait for the bus." 

Sam reached for his phone, pausing when he remembered he wouldn't be able to open any Internet pages. "Ah, right. Could ya' tell me more about that bus?"

Martin almost sounded sympathetic. "You missed the morning bus, but it comes back the other way in the evening. Six-ish I believe."

Sam nodded along, wishing he would get to the point faster. "And it goes to the next town?"

"Yep. It goes back and forth between the two closest big towns. Y'know places with population in the thousands instead of hundreds." The joke was fortunately laced with important information for Sam. A bigger town would actually be easier to blend into. 

Martin also informed Sam there was a bus timetable in the local newspaper. It was more like a pamphlet but it had useful information in it. Sam thanked him and planned their day in his head. "You've been insanely helpful, thanks again my guy. I just wanna get outta your hair."

Martin put both his hands up, his tone growing positively emphatic. "At least let me feed ya' lunch before ya' leave! Can't travel without something hardy in ya' stomachs." He grabbed a leash out of the hallway closet and flipped it onto Bagels collar. "I'll come back with something for lunch, you two relax for a couple hours."

Sam smiled, ignoring that needling feeling returning. Glancing at Soldier, now only looking at Sam, awaiting his next order. He pushed it down.

"Sure."

Chapter Text

The weather outside is still gloomy. It's not raining yet, but the dark clouds steadily coming closer as the hours dragged on, meant they'd be seeing more rain soon. 

Sam aimlessly flicked through the meditation books while he sat on the one, old couch in this near barren home. He'd instructed Soldier to sit beside him. He was waiting for the dryer to get done with with their clothes so they could give Martin his brothers stuff back. 

Soldier had gone from scanning the room, to just sitting quietly and still beside Sam, eyes forward, looking at nothing. Sam doesn't know if he'll ever get used to this. He was getting tired of the constant feeling of discomfort. 

"Soldier?"

He turned to Sam. "Da?"

Sam kept his thumb between the page he had been reading. "Are you alright?"

A single nod. "YA v optimal'nom sostoyanii."

Sam didn't catch any of that. He huffed tiredly. "Still doing the Russian thing I see." That last episode really rattled something loose. Or the one before that more specifically. Sam doubts Soldier fell asleep after the day he spent in shock. He was just so stationary and Sam was so exhausted, that he didn't notice Soldier was still conscious and raring to run out the door. 

"Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

Soldier thought for a few seconds before responding. "Nemnogo."

Sam let out a short, irritated sigh. At himself more than Soldier. His Russian isn't good enough for this.

Nemnogo...? Is that 'a lot' or 'a little'? Wait, menogo is a lot. 

Sam met Soldiers unwavering, stoic eye contact while he got lost in his own thoughts. Maybe he is Russian. He's fluent after all. Learning a language to fluency takes years and what are the odds he learnt the language of the people who abducted him before the abduction happened. 

Abduction being his theory that conflicts with the possibility that Soldier was a willing participant. Sam was leaning further away from that after the way James has shone through over the past couple of days. It helped Sam convince himself that he's not just holding out hope that one day Soldier will appreciate all of this and not immediately go back to Hydra. 

Sam decided a better use of his time was learning more about this bus. He found the 'town newspaper' which is just a small booklet with about ten to fifteen pages, and opened it up. He flicked through to the back where the numbers for local services are all listed and found the bus timetable. Martin was right. It drives through this town at six fifteen, then about an hour or two drive to the next. Sam didn't recognise the names of any of these towns. All he knows is that the crash site is somewhere in the middle of Texas and this was just the nearest town. They'd have to spend a few days travelling to get to Waco or Austin if buses are their only option. It seems like the best choice right now. It'll be easier to blend in if they're in a big city. Then again, there are towns on the way that are at the very least, bigger than this one.

His phone buzzed and Joaquín's name popped up on screen. The messages popped up one after the other on Sam's home screen.

Joaquín: AH

Joaquín: DOG

Joaquín: INCREDIBLE 

Joaquín: Things are back to normal at the base now those agents are gone. Seeing my buddy for lunch/dinner today so I'll let you know if he tells me anything good!

Okay, things are looking up. Fingers crossed Joaquín can get something out of his friend. 

Sam: Her name is Bagel

Due to the connection, Sam had to wait a couple of minutes but he doesn't doubt the response was immediate.

Joaquín: BAGEL 

Joaquín: I LOVE HER

Sam gave him a typical, good luck message and left it at that. He doesn't want to make it obvious to the kid that he's trying to keep his distance. It's for his own good. 

Fetching their clothes from the dryer, Sam instructed Soldier to change, then clarified he meant to go another room and change. Sam hoped this wouldn't be a problem for long enough that he'd get used to it. He's hoping that James will make another appearance soon. Ideally permanently.

Once they were back in their original clothes, Sam set the clothes they slept in on the end of the spare room and tried to find other ways to bide his time. 

Taking a good look at the house, it's the first time he'd noticed all of the assistance rails. Like for the elderly or the handicapped. One in the shower, one next to the toilet. The light switches were all low down, around Sam's waist. Big flat switches that clicked softly. It hadn't occured to Sam to take note of it last night when he was coming down from all that stress. 

This home is strange in a number of ways. There's no family photos, personal items, decorations. He only really had bare essentials and of course the mountain of dog toys. Bagel didn't seem to have any interest in playing with them though. She gave all of her attention to Soldier when she was here.

There's really not one family photo? He supposed Martin did say they weren't exactly close. That annoying needling feeling returned, right as the front door opened. Soldier shot to his feet, immediately on guard. Martin and Bagel stepped inside. Sam watched from across the room. Soldiers eyes on Martin, Bagels on Soldier, Martin avoiding any and all eye contact and Sam flicking between the three. 

Martin seemed a little out of breath. "Whew! Getting windy out there. A storms coming in tonight. You two sure you don't wanna stay another night?" He hung his coat up and took the leash off Bagel. She trotted over to Soldier and watching him almost inquisitively.

A thunderstorm was going to make their bus ride pretty miserable but Sam was firm on his decision to leave. "We'll be alright. We really gotta get moving. If the bus breaks down, we'll come right back, trust me." Sam joked lightly. Martin walked right past him with his bag of groceries, setting them on the kitchen counter. 

"You boys like baked potatoes? I'm thinking that and a side salad on a gloomy day like today." He called over his shoulder. Sam looked back at Soldier like he'd have an opinion, realised what he was doing, then answered for both of them.

"Sounds good. Do you need a han–"

"Nope." Martin rejected his offer for help before it had even fully left Sam's mouth. He has his head in the groceries, setting everything out on the counter to start. He stalled and slightly turned his head, still not giving any amount of eye contact.

"Actually if you're still willing to give me a hand." He pointed out towards the back door. "All those boxes in the spare room and the lounge need to go in the shed, do you think you could save my back the trouble?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, of course!" The bus wasn't coming until six anyway so they had plenty of time. He was planning on letting Soldier stay inside and not rope him into physical labor, but he should probably take him with, rather than leaving him to intimidate Martin with his presence. "Soldier, come with me man."

Martin spoke as Sam opened the back door. "Thanks lad. I'll call ya' when everythings done."

Heading outside, Sam saw the old metal shed with a simple lever lock on the front, one piece of petal that slots behind another to keep it closed. Sam lifted the lever and the old rusty door creaked open.

Martin underselled how much there was to do. The shed was pretty full already. He was gonna have to make room in the shed to store the rest so he wasn't just stacking things in front of the door and making the space unusable. Belongings are already stacked up haphazardly, covered in cobwebs and dust. 

Soldier stood at the entrance to the shed, scanning the space before turning to Sam, waiting for instruction. Sam shrugged at him "Well. I said I'd do it." He's not one to go back on his word. Or maybe it's his stubborn determination he applies to nearly everything. He's also not one to half ass anything. It leads to more work on his end but he'd rather do it right the first time.

Sam picked the most stable spot and started shifting things to the side. He pulled on an old tarp that was flaking bits of blue onto the ground, revealing an even older lawnmower. Sam's pretty sure his grandparents had this one. Everything in this shed is ancient. When Sam moved the lawnmower, the patch of ground beneath the wheels was a completely different shade to the rest of the floor. When did Martin say his brother moved out here? A few years ago?

Soldier moving beside him distracted him from his train of thought. He picked up a crate of what looked like old milk bottles and moved them to the side Sam had been moving things.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Hold up man. I offered my help. You don't need to." He's not about to use Soldier like a free labor machine just because he could. 

Soldier's brow twitched the tiniest bit. Trying to pinch together like he was thinking. Sam watched him with an intrigue. 

"Unless...you want to help?" Sam said slowly, taking another opportunity to give him a choice. Force that brain conditioned to obey, the chance to think for itself. 

Soldier looked back to Sam. "I can help." His eyes were distant but there was a resoluteness in his voice. Sam tamped down the feeling that sparked at his fingertips.

"Alright." He pointed back towards the house. "There's a bunch of boxes in there. Just wanna move 'em in here." He made sure not to voice it like an order. Sam swore he could see the loading symbol in the middle of Soldier forehead before he walked back into the house.

It's crazy how much lighter Sam felt in an instant. Watching Soldier walk away of his own volition and doing it while he's not in some kind of fugue state. He came back with three boxes stacked on top of each other, placing them down with ease. He turned on his heel and went to grab more.

Once he was gone, Sam experimentally went to try and pick up the stack and as expected, it's ridiculously heavy. He can lift it but not without risking pulling something in his back. He scoffed out a laugh and moved the boxes one at a time. They had their little routine down. Soldier brought in load after load and Sam organized it as best as he could. Sam actually enjoyed doing something mundane. It's nice to do something normal with Soldier. 

Soldier had delivered everything from inside and stood there watching Sam open boxes to check the contents, deciding where to place them. After the eighth or so box that appeared to just have blankets in it on first glance, Sam peaked underneath that top layer of fabric. Under every blanket in every box, was other stuff. The stuff you'd expect to find around a home. Sam's not about to start judging packing skills, maybe every box was topped with a blanket to protect what was in them. 

Then again, no wonder the inside of the home looked so barren. Everything is in the boxes. The personality of a homeowner that Sam had been trying to find over the past day. It's been stored away in all of these cubes of cardboard. Photos in the frames, a university degree from the 1950's, boardgames, decorative pieces, some statues of birds. Also war paraphernalia. Old equipment and even war medals in a frame. Medals of honor, tossed into a box along with a candle holder with a half burnt candle, a lamp and a box of dominoes. 

This man's whole life, all of his memories, stashed away. Sam felt queasy all of a sudden. It wasn't his place to dictate how Martin goes about dealing with his brothers belongings but this felt disrespectful. He doesn't want to keep any of this safe in the house?

Also who's degree is that? Someone old enough to graduate college in the fifties would be in their eighties or nineties now. Assuming they went to college right after highschool. Martin is sixty at latest unless he just looks real good for his age. Either that or his brother is twenty years older than him.

And the medals. These are world war two medals. Everything Sam found to do with any kind of war, was world war two. Maybe all of this was their dad's stuff... Martin said that's the war his dad fought in. There's nothing to suggest anyone in this house fought in the Afghanistan war, which would be the one Martin's brother was in. Everything in these boxes and the shed showed the signs of time. Decades to half a century. The newest things were the self help books and things like geriatric braces and other things to aid an older person.

The next box was filled with photo frames. All of them in black and white, as well as some old film tapes. Pulling out one of the photos, Sam saw a line-up of six men looking at the camera, with more men wandering around in the background of the shot. They were all wearing the same uniform. They looked like they'd just finished a training session or something. All of them covered in mud, but smiling, arms over each others shoulders.

The one who stood out the most was a tall, handsome blond man in the middle. He had his elbow curled so hard around the man beside him that the other mans head was slightly blurry, like the blond guy had pulled him closer right as the picture got taken. The man's bright smile was still clear even if the rest of his face wasn't. The rest of the men were in various states of mid laughter or focusing on the camera. 

Sam smiled at the moment in time the image captured. Who wouldn't want to display this? 

Three words were scrawled on the bottom of the photo. "The Howling Commandos..." Sam read the scribbly handwriting aloud. There were more pictures of the same men in that box that Sam was about to take a look at when he heard a sharp inhale over his shoulder. 

Sam stood up, placing the photo back in the box and closed the gap between them. "Soldier? You okay?"

Soldiers eyes are wide, the iris trembling. Not looking at anything, just staring. Sam put two hands on his arms, running them up and down the flesh and metal upper arms. "Just take a second my guy. Deep breath... Count backwards from ten." Soldier followed along with the instructions and his eyes seemed to glaze over again, going blank.

Distracting someone with a basic task is a good, quick trick for stopping panic before it gets too bad. He's not sure what set Solder off though. Could be anything. They've been at this for a while, he should send Soldier to go lie down. It's cold as hell out here and Sam can't imagine it's comfortable for Soldier when that metal arm gets ice cold. It's embedded in his body after all.

"Okay. That's my cue to stop snooping. Let's get back inside before it gets colder." The task was completed. It hadn't taken too long either. They still had plenty of time to thank Martin and head back to the motel before the bus came. 

Like some kind of scripted event, the wind howled, slamming the garage door open, making a loud clang noise as it smacked flat against the wall of the garage. Sam grabbed the door and closed it, pushing the metal lever down to keep it closed. 

Pushing a shiver out, Sam got the back door open and ushered Soldier inside, closing the door behind the two of them.

"Perfect timing! Lunch is ready." Martin chirped as they entered. He set a big plate stacked with loaded baked potatoes in the centre of the table, around three table settings with a bowl of a colourful salad on the side.

"C'mon, sit, sit. All of that didn't give you too much trouble I hope?" Martin waved them over and Sam directed Soldier to a spot to sit. 

Sam wanted to ask him about all the nice stuff out there but it's really not his place. Maybe his brother wasnt the greatest and Martin wants to get all of his stuff out of his sight. He has no way of knowing. Instead, he smiled and sat. Martin immediately started serving them. Sam had to cut in to tell him he had plenty, or Martin might have just kept piling them on his plate.

It's pungent to say the least. Strong smell and strong flavors. How much garlic and onion can go into stuffed potatoes?

Martin was chatting much more than the night before even if he still seemed tense. Almost an overly friendly insistence about it, like a nervous first-time host. Asking Sam if he liked the meal, encouraging him to dig in for more of he was still hungry. His eyes kept darting to Soldier anxiously. Sam's glad he's still willing to exist in the same room as Soldier after this morning.

That was when Sam noticed Soldier was staring at Martin and hadn't touched his plate. Sam forgot to tell him he's allowed to eat. He swallowed and spoke quickly. "Ah– Sorry. Eat up man."

Martin's demeanor relaxed as Sam told Soldier to eat. Soldier had been glaring at him but stopped the moment Sam spoke to him. Just as he follows all orders, Soldier started eating. On his first potato, he abruptly stopped chewing for a moment, that was until he obediently followed the order and swallowed.

Sam looked to Martin, blinking slowly. "I was wondering something. Did your brother keep a lot of your dad's stuff here?"

"Why do you ask?"

Sam paused to yawn. "Just that there's a bunch of world war two stuff in those boxes. You said your old man was a world war two vet, didn't you?"

Martin looked confused for a split second. "Oh– uh...yeah. Yeah I did." Martin cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh... the brother loved all that old junk." He kept his eyes on his plate as he spoke.

Sam's eyelids blinked heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, he sat up straight and focused on Martin. "Did your dad...live here too?" His question broken up by another yawn. Martin stared at him rather than responding, his face falling into a dour expression that looked far more natural for his face, rather than all the forced smiles. 

Soldier stopped eating beside him, his body tensing, eyes darting to Sam as he yawned again. It all happened so quickly, like being put under before surgery. One moment you're awake, then the next...

You're not.

-

*****______//////////

*-___//*****–––

"Hey Bu--*cky? You in there?"

.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.·.·

James felt his mind return to him like a shotgun blast. As the serum worked overtime to get the sedatives out of his system, his panic receptors did the rest. Unfortunately he was very familiar with the feeling. He could probably name the type of sedative based on how quick it worked and how he felt afterwards. Despite the fact that he isn't unconscious, his body still feels heavy. Someone knew what they were doing. 

He shot up from the table on unsteady legs and scanned his surroundings. He's in a kitchen, a home, not the room from before. He didn't waste time trying to think of the last memory he could recall. He's been in this situation before. Time is of the essence. Just take in as much as possible and act on it.

Doing his best to push past the disorientation, the next thing he noticed was the man beside him. He's out cold, passed out leaning over the table, his hand half in a plate of food. James looked down at the food and drinks on the table, they had eaten the same thing. He must have gotten sedated as well. Only it worked better on him that it did James.

So James was sitting at a table with this guy eating a meal with him? That's a new one. He noted a third plate and an empty chair. He's willing to bet that's the chef responsible for this particular meal. Glancing to the side, a dog nudged his leg. She's whimpering lowly like she's stressed, looking from James to the other guy. James went back to scanning the room. No time to focus on the dog.

James leaned down and pulled the guy up off the table, leaning him back on his chair. After looking at his face, something in the back of James' head tweaked. Fragments of memories flashed across his vision. This man's face in varying levels of focus throughout. Something else that was new. James didn't feel angry when he looked at him. Well, he didn't feel any angrier. He doesn't feel the automatic wave of nausea when he recalled a face of a handler or the people who rent him from Hydra. No surge of hatred for the people using him like a puppet.

James ran on pure instinct in these moments. He had to. He isn't capable of thinking any deeper and he can't remember a damn thing from when he's in "ready to obey" mode. 

His instincts tell him this guy isn't a threat. Even if it's just because he doesn't feel that powerful, deep-seated urge to strangle him. In fact, his instincts tell him to keep an eye on him.

James racked his brain. Why is this guy so familiar?. A short growl escaped from James' throat at not being able to recall the simplest of details. 

It doesn't matter. Whoever he is, he's out cold and not gonna be any help. If anything he's a huge damn roadblock in James figuring out what's going on because his brain keeps drifting back to him. Like some part of James' brain can't take his eyes off him. Doesn't want to.

He needs to find out who that third plate belonged to. He stuck his finger into the middle of one of the untouched baked potatoes. It's still retaining a bit of heat. He must have only blacked out for a little while. Whoever drugged him must be close by. 

He honed his hearing to pick up on any movement around the home. It was a little hard to hear through the gale force winds whipping into the walls and the trees around the property, but he did hear something. A consistent noise like pacing, moving from one spot to the next and then back, over and over. It was coming from the pavement outside the backdoor. 

Slinking over to the glass door, James peered from behind the curtains that were mostly drawn over the long glass window, only leaving a gap wide enough to open the door and walk through.

Outside was a man, older, maybe in his sixties, pacing looking nervous speaking hurriedly with his fingers pressed to his ear

 "I did as you asked– come quickly."

I did as you asked...? Is he talking about the sedatives? James filed away every new piece of information as quickly as he could. It's a safe enough bet. 

James hesitated before going out there. He should pick his battles. Obviously this guy has organised for someone to come and get him and with James' luck, it's probably Hydra. He should just make a run for it. 

Who is this guy anyway? Posture doesn't say ex military but he's not a civilian either. He's too well-informed. A reporter or some kind? He's not acting like a spy or a double agent.

That's when something triggered deep memories. Hazy and disjointed. Rare moments when he was ordered not to kill a witness. Only in specific circumstances did someone ever get to live through seeing The Winter Soldier.

A mole. Hydra has plenty scattered across the world. Someone implanted in a military sect, a company, an organisation or even a town. Anything that Hydra wanted access to. Someone who can't be directly linked to Hydra to feed them information and carry out orders, preparing for Hydra's arrival. Taking over from the inside out. Hydra's name may not be on the label but they're all over the contents. The old guy lined up with the type. James might have even met him before. Not that he recalls.

There must have been an operation in the area and Hydra needed someone close by. James was willing to bet the original owner of this house met Hydra before the old guy moved in.

He knew he was wasting time but he couldn't help the anxiety surging in him. He has another chance to get away, he can't fuck it up. The desperation is making his fingers buzz with nerves. He needs to think. Just think.

The dog started pawing at his leg, making low insistent gruff noises. She stood up, putting her paws on his hip, leaning on him. James went to lightly push her to make her stand down, but she just got more insistent.

James groaned. "Fuckin– C'mere..." He grabbed the dog by the collar and dragged her to the spare room, putting her inside and closing the door. He should put the guy in there too.

He started to walk back towards the kitchen when he heard the bedroom door click open. By the time he turned around, the dog was already nuzzling her snout through the gap she'd made in the door.

James grunted. The door to every room in the house has a lever door handle. And just his luck, the dog's smart enough to open them.

The dog trotted back up to him, ruffing almost indignantly. He swiped a hand down his face. "God...damnit." He can't afford to get distracted by a damn dog.

Looking back down at the other man, James had another burst of consciousness. Waking up in a small room with this guy leaning over him. 

 "I'm Sam*-_**_W*il*_son--, the medic..."

He was frazzled in that moment. His memories are classically fuzzy and hard to recall. 

James' eyes widened at the burry, distorted memory of a crash, pulling himself out of the wreckage, clawing at his mask.

And then he was found...

But not by Hydra.

A man flashing the medic's red cross to him calmed his guarded nerves, relaxing his shoulders 

The medic! The damn medic– 

That feeling pushing at his skull whenever he looked at him. That one title that had ingrained itself in James' mind.

The fragments started falling into place. Pieces of a jigsaw placed with no connected pieces, but somehow he knows they're in the right spot. It was nearly as euphoric as it was overwhelming. 

James shook his shoulders to try and wake him but he was out cold. "Hey– medic? Sam?" He smacked him across the face, probably harder than he should have. He forgets to pull back sometimes. At least he used the real hand. 

Nothing. Check if he's breathing.

James held his jaw in one hand and put his fingers to the pulse point on the medic's neck. His heartbeat is slow but it's there. 

As he stood there leaning over the medic, he heard a gasp from outside and a figure darting out of James' line of sight on the other side of the glass. He only caught a glimpse but it was for sure the old guy. Someone was surprised James woke up so early.

James went to run after him but didn't account for how heavy his body still is. He didn't lift his foot high enough and fumbled, falling to a knee, barely catching himself on a dining chair. He heard a squeaky metal noise echo through the howling wind and the closing of a metal door. 

Letting anger and desperation fuel his movements, he pushed himself to his feet and ripped the door open, nearly taking it off it's tracks. The biting cold wind rushed over him, dark clouds hanging overhead. There was a shed with a flimsy metal door, James didn't even bother lifting the lever, he just ripped it open, the old rusty lock coming clean off the wall. A yelp came from inside and James trudged in, the wind only muffling in the sense that it was no longer whipping against his ears.

The man had a small gun pointed at him in shaking hands, though his demeanor said he was trying to act like he wasn't intimidated.

"Stay back." He warned, cocking the handgun. James just stared at him. He's not going to kill him. If James is right and he's working for Hydra, they would be furious.

Ignoring his warning, James stood there blocking the exit, cornering this man in the shed filled with boxes. "So what poor sack owned this house? Someone forgettable enough for Hydra to slip in and disappear?" 

Martin gulped, steeling himself. "He was another casualty of your disobedience. Punishment for your actions." The man sneered. James was testing him and he failed spectacularly. Moles don't usually crack this quickly. He supposed this guy was on his last leg. Pure survival mode. He can relate.

"And he won't be the final causality if you don't stand down." 

The only thing that's going to get anyone killed is involvement with Hydra. James scoffed at him. Dry and humourless. "Yeah, nice plan you got here pal. You actually tryna look after the guy you drugged?" 

The old man tightened his jaw. "He's stupidly trying to rehabilitate you. But stupidity shouldn't be a death sentence."

That gave James pause. He's what? He tried to refocus when the old man kept talking.

"I don't believe every innocent who so much as sees you, needs to die." 

James grit his teeth behind lips that trembled with anger. "Neither do I." He growled, taking a sudden step forward, sending the old man flinching and stumbling backwards into the wall behind him. "I didn't want any of this." 

"You know what you are!" The man cut in, yelling over the howling wind. "If you cared at all, you would wait patiently for Hydra to retrieve you. You don't belong among humans."

He felt a jab in his chest at the words. A sinking that curdled in his stomach that he might be right. Taking in a shuddering inhale, James snarled at the old man. "You think you're helping anyone?" He pointed back towards the house where the medic still is. "Once you've done what they asked, they'll kill you and they'll him too. Hell, they'll kill the fucking dog as well." He didn't care if he convinced this guy to hop down from his moral high horse or not. The old man looked like he was about to argue but James beat him to it, taking another heavy step forward, eyes boring into the mole.

"You know what I am. Don't act like you don't know what they are too." His low snarl dragged a frightened noise out of the man, his eyes still resolute in his mission. 

At that moment, James' keen senses locked onto movement through the grass and gravel surrounding the property. Organised, practised formations, moving with stealth and precision.

"They're here." James said lowly, glancing in the direction he heard he loudest noises. He stood back, looking to the old man who had the audacity to look relieved. "You might wanna consider running. I'm the only one they'll let see tomorrow."

"Heil Hydra monstr." He spat.

James turned his back on the man. "Yeah, fuck you too."

He quietly got back inside, slipping in through the back door. James leaned down and scooped up the medic, throwing him over his shoulder. He made a short, sharp whistle noise to get the dogs attention, nodding his head down the hallway. The dog trotted behind him to the end of the hallway, finding the room at the end. A well-lived in bedroom, pitch black as the blinds and curtains were closed. Secure enough. James stashed the medic behind the bed and locked eyes with the dog. "Stay here." He ordered firmly, meeting her amber eyes.

The dog whimpered, shifting her paws but made no move to disobey.

He left the door partly open. Little psychology trick. They'd be more likely to check a room with the door closed to find someone hiding. 

James stood at the end of the hall, sticking close to the wall. He should have knocked the old man on his ass and taken that gun but as soon as he heard Hydra closing in, all he thought about was getting to the medic. He glanced back at the room. He just wouldn't let anyone down this hallway. If he makes a run for it, they'll definitely favor following him over searching the house.

James waited for another sound but he couldn't hear anything over the wind and the booms of thunder crashing overhead. Rain started to beat down on the roof, adding to James' overloaded senses. 

Other than the weather, It's too quiet. The kind of quiet that's intentional. Held breath and gentle footsteps. 

They're in the house. 

He heard the backdoor open and quick, hurried words from the old man. Someone replied, a voice that James isn't sure he recognised or not. An argument, pleading, begging. James stayed quiet, he didn't intervene. Not even when he heard the gunshot. Not when sound would bring Hydra to the door behind him. His mind created a list of priorities and the contents of that room are at the top.

He ducked to the side, around the short L-shaped hallway where just the laundry room was. He stayed there while a single pair of footsteps neared closer.

James waited with a startling, dead-eyed calm as the man grew closer. Right as he appeared in James' vision, he swung his metal arm around the agents neck and yanked him back, closing his arm around his throat and squeezed. James thought about the taser on the agents belt, the tranquilizers loaded in his gun...

James saw red.

Searing, burning, coursing through his veins. He grit his teeth through the pain, fingers clawing into the cold metal arm rests under this hands. Strapped down so he couldn't move, all he could do was bear it. He tried so hard to bear it.

James kept squeezing, harder and harder. Until he heard a pop.

His chest heaved as the man went limp, he dropped the limp body in time with the thunder that boomed over the house, making the walls shake.

More are coming.

Another came around the corner, before they even had a chance to raise their gun, James was in their face, hand around the barrel of the gun, bending it closed before planted his metal fist square in the middle of their mouth, breaking right through the visor on their helmet hiding their face.

The visor bent and crunched like aluminium foil under the pressure from James' fist. He reeled back and punched again, a string of blood connecting his fist to their mouth as he pulled back to punch him again.

Never again.

The third one came and went under the power of James' metal grip slamming them into the ground, he heard something crack. Onto the next. 

Swiftly dodging a jab with a taser. James grabbed the arm and launched the body over his head, sending them flying into the dining room table, the surface cracked and the legs snapped. James grabbed a broken table leg and plunged it into their stomach as they lay groaning in the pile of broken wood. The strangled cry rang in James' ears, the one beneath him gurgling as blood pooled in their mouth.

Electricity crackled in the air beside him, the hair on the back of his head standing on edge. He grabbed the arm without looking at it, holding the wrist with one hand, jabbing his metal elbow down through the arm, bones crunched and snapped, the owner of the arm screaming in pain. James shut him up. He couldn't hear anything over his heartbeat hammering in his ears. 

One more, one twist of the neck. Precision snap.

He breathed in the silence. No more hiding figures. He's alone.

The haze cleared and James paused, standing there in the middle of the carnage he created. Eyes darting around in a panic, once that buried part of his brain crept through, the part that was broken and devastated.

"You don't belong around humans."

Frustrated tears prickled his eyes, staring down at his bloody hands.

He tore them apart without even thinking. He killed them like a feral animal. He was so desperate to not be caught again...to not have to go back.

He doesn't wanna be this anymore. This isn't who he is...

James' chest heaved, the more he looked down at the blood staining the front of his body, covering his hands, the tighter his throat grew. His vision blurred as he watched the blood seep into the grooves on his metal hand. 

Gentle trotting came down the hallway, entering the room and b-lining straight for James. The dog put her paws up on James' chest, leaning forward. His brows pinched together, he took a step back and she moved her back legs to walk with him, leaning forward more insistently. James' back hit the wall and he slid down it until he was sitting with his knees up by his chest, the dog basically put her entire weight on top of him and stayed there, leaning on his chest. 

He was too disorientated to fight it. He thought back to the medic– Sam. He's probably the only thing in this house that isn't splattered with red. Even the dog was coated now, thanks to the impromptu cuddle. He has no idea if he's alright. He doesn't think he heard anyone sneak in through a window but then again, his memory is spacy at best. 

James got stuck thinking about him. Who the hell even is that guy? Why is he here? It was hard for James to believe he's just a good samaritan after everything he's been through. He could count the amount of good people he's met since getting nabbed by Hydra, on one hand.

Was that old guy telling the truth?

James should make a run for it right now. The medic– Sam, will be safer without James around anyway. Hydra isn't gonna stop. This is one wave of many. They'll just send more next time. James needs to get away from him. From everyone.

Hydra's never going to stop hunting him. He'd actually feel better if they wanted to kill him. But he's too valuable for that. They'll just kill everyone around him and make him watch to really let it sink in. Let James know exactly what happens when he dares to try and just live...

He went to stand up but the dog stubbornly made herself heavier, leaning even more insistently onto his chest. His frantic heartbeat didn't slow down. He needs to leave. Maybe he can find a cabin in the middle of some abandoned field where no one will get hurt just for seeing him. 

He tried again. "Dog– move...damnit–" James muttered at the Labrador. She did not move. In fact she literally put her head down as if to emphasise her lack of intention to budge. James grunted. He could easily push her off... 

His hands found her blonde fur, soft to the touch, darkening as his blood stained fingers curled into her coat. He could hear her steady heartbeat and feel the warm weight pressing onto him. As he sank into the comforting warmth, his head started to spin, his mind going hazy. His breathing settled, mind slowing.

 His eyes glazed over.

....////-------------------

*****

*

*

»»»––···//

The Asset scanned the room. Several deceased Hydra agents lay around the room and the next.

The Medic is not among the bodies.

It looked down.

...

The Asset doesn't know what to do about the dog.

-

The headache woke Sam up. The throbbing pain at the top of his skull like something was repeatedly trying to force it's way up out of his brain. He pushed himself up with a groan, groggy and lethargic. What the hell happened? He's on the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut to try and quell the pain in his head, putting a palm to his forehead to help it along. 

He's in a room he doesn't recognise. Black out curtains layered with blinds.

Struggling to his feet, he stumbled over the the door, catching himself on the wall and peered out the gap in the doorway. He couldn't see anything until he opened the door and stepped out.

He went to breathe through the pain. Take deep breaths to ease the pressure on his head. The first thing he smelt was iron. Blood. Right at the foot of the doorway was a body. They were pale and cold. A chill ran up Sam's spine, his eyes drifting to the next body.

Trembling legs reached the end of the hallways. He didn't even have to turn his head an inch before he saw the pool of blood spreading out from underneath Martin. Getting closer he could see a single execution-style gunshot to the back of his head. Sam averted his eyes, quickly scanning the room he found himself in in case he was wondering aimlessly into danger. He got the distinct feeling he'd missed the show.

His legs shaking underneath him and leaned on the closest wall to help him walk while his head caught up with his body. 

His eyes fell on the dinner Martin had made for them. Sam fell asleep at the table after a couple of bites. He glanced at Soldiers plate, it barely had a few bites taken from it. Soldier didn't shovel his food down like he normally does. He must have noticed something was wrong with it.

Sam put a hand over his eyes and breathed slowly. He knew something was up with Martin. Everything was too perfect. Sam doesn't know if he just didn't want to acknowledge it... didn't want to see it, or if he was just trying to resist the apparently automatic function to be paranoid. Trustworthy out of spite for his mind being constantly on the edge of an anxiety attack ever since he signed up for this extracurricular activity.

Now he's completely in the dark. He just wished he could ask anyone what happened. His breath hitched and he looked through the archway into he next room.

There, slumped, leaning against the wall, was Soldier. Bagel lay on top of him, forcefully snuggling him. He was staring down a the space in front of him, blank and stoic. Sam approached them and Soldier lifted his head to look up at Sam, acting normally like he wasn't covered in blood.

Sam let out an exhale so deep he thinks his lungs shrank. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Sam didn't need to think too hard about it. He knows he made it out of this ordeal without a scratch or a spot of blood on him all because of Soldier. Because for some goddamn reason, he protects him.

Soldier nodded once, one arm laying on top of Bagel, the other at his side, not holding her at all. "It's not my blood." Voice flat and blunt.

At least he's speaking English again. Sam's hands shook. The trembling helped him notice his fingers are numb. 

The fact that Soldier was just sitting there helped Sam feel just slightly at ease. If he's not on guard, he must be certain they're safe. Sam wanted to double check. "Stay there." Sam pointed his palm to the ground and walked to the nearest body. One had his forearm basically snapped clean from his elbow and another has a jagged table leg sticking out of his stomach. Sam winced, trying to get a look at his face. He recognised him as one of the men that cornered them at the plane after the crash. 

They'd been eviscerated. One of the men's heads has been snapped so hard, his head fully twisted around. Another's face was barely recognisable because it had been beaten to a pulp. 

Sam had a knot in his throat the size of a golf ball. 

This is so fucking bad. 

He's standing in the middle of a literal crime scene. Sam can't be involved in a police investigation. One. Because he's supposed to be in Louisiana right now. He doesn't need a second reason. That's the big one right there. That's a goddamn court martial and a short-ass trial. 

He can't just leave either. There are six corpses in this house. One of them Martin. Sam doesn't know if he was directly working with Hydra or if he was just someone they roped into working for them but right now, Martin is only one of many bodies that Sam needs to do something about. 

God, he has to explain to this to Joaquín. There's no way in hell the kid isn't gonna come running the second Sam spills the beans. He didn't need Joaquín lying to their superiors as well. The less the kid knows about this, the better. 

A strained cough came from one of the bodies, gasping and hacking. Sam whipped around, scanning the bloody forms until he found the one moving, barely. Struggling to breath, spluttering blood from a bleeding mouth with missing teeth. 

Sam rushed to his side and assessed the damage. He likely got a metal left hook to the mouth. A few times probably. Sam rolled the man onto his back. The man let out a gruff, angry cry. Wide, yet resolute eyes planted on Sam.

"If you stay still, I can help you." Sam spoke firmly. He needs to get a closer look at him.

The man spat blood that dripped down his chin. "Would rather die–" the man hissed, blood spluttering from his lips with every word.

Narrowing his eyes, tired and drained. Sam didn't have time for prideful horseshit. It's not the first time he's bandaged up someone who's tried to kill him and it won't be the last.

"You're telling me you don't have one thing you wanna live for?" It was supposed to be a trick question. It was supposed to trigger an epiphany and the man would let Sam patch up his wounds and save his life. But Sam underestimated Hydra once again.

Jaw tight, unwavering, uninterrupted eye contact boring into Sam's. He spat. "Heil Hydra."

The Hydra agent bit down on something hard, a crack came from his mouth. Seconds later his mouth started to foam, his eyes going glassy and rolling back into his head. Sam's blood went cold. 

He thought about getting up, about walking away from the body that twitched as the life drained from it. But he couldn't get his legs to work. He sat there and watched almost like he was mesmerised by it. That couldn't be further from true. He couldn't say how long he sat there staring until he ripped his eyes away. 

He forced himself to focus, not letting his mind slip into the daze it wanted to. He wandered back into the room with the two living beings in it.

"Soldier." He leaned a hand on the wall, staring at the ground. He sounded out of breath. "Would Hydra come and clean this up?"

"Yes." Soldier responded dutifully. "Only the agents. They leave the civilians."

Sam nodded slowly as he spoke. Can't have anyone asking questions about these armored hitmen. Especially not the local police. "What about Martin?" Sam almost didn't want to know. 

Soldier glanced over at the body, then back to Sam. He didn't respond. He doesn't know. 

Okay, Hydra's determination to keep themselves in the shadows might be helpful again. Hopefully Sam can work around them. If Martin was placed here by Hydra or just a civilian that they threatened, Sam had no idea.

Sam swallowed his feelings. There's no time for thus. More are coming. They need to get out of here.

Sam walked over and crouched down beside Soldier and Bagel. Sam put a hand on Bagels head. "C'mon girl. Get up." He coaxed gently. When that didn't work, he whistled and snapped his fingers at his feet and her ears perked up. She stood up, and moved to sit politely at Sam's feet again. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "You too Soldier."

Soldier stood up, turning his body to Sam expectantly. 

"What happened?" He tried to keep his eyes on Soldiers face and stop himself from taking in the blood soaked clothes. Droplets literally sliding down his metal arm. 

Soldier, blinked once and his head slowly turned to scan the room.

After a beat, he answered. "There was a fight."

Sam huffed. "Yeah I gleamed that myself, believe it or not." The bitter note of sarcasm didn't affect Soldier at all. "What happened to Martin? Did he or the Hydra agents say anything?"

Soldier's eyes drifted off over Sam's shoulder, looking at nothing. 

Sam clocked onto what was going on. "You don't remember." 

Soldier shook his head.

Sam stretched his thumb and fingers over his face to pinch his temples. Of course he doesn't. Details started to fall into place for him. "Do you remember a couple of nights ago? You woke up and kicked me in the stomach?"

Soldier stared at him blankly, shaking his head again.

That's another strike, one more. "Do you remember telling me your name?"

Soldier paused, blinking, looking off to the side. Shook his head no again.

It's like he has two levels of consciousness. The Winter Soldier and James.

In order to brainwash him so severely, Hydra would have had to dismantle and rebuild his consciousness. They made it so Soldier is the default. When his mind relaxes, The Winter Soldier is what he automatically falls into. His minds new natural state. He thought about Bagel leaning on his chest, snuggled right up to him. She calmed him down, so Soldier came back.

He's only himself when he's panicking. His synapses kicking into overdrive. It takes effort and focus to become James again. Effort that strains his mind and his body. It takes a toll on him. He can only think somewhat clearly when he's at dangerous stress levels. Stress levels that have drastic impacts on his body. James doesn't remember being Soldier and vise versa. The idea that Sam would have to stress Soldier out in order to talk to James, was a concept that nearly made him laugh.

But that also meant that James was the one that did all of this.

Sam felt a sinking in his stomach being fairly certain that James committed all for this violence. He couldn't focus on that now. He can't go making judgements when he was asleep the entire time. Maybe James will make another appearance soon.

"We've gotta get out of here now." His heart skipped a panicked beat when he checked the time. Just after five. They needed to find where this bus stop is and get there immediately.

Soldier stood to attention. His eyes flicked to the front door and he turned to head towards it.

"Hold up man." Sam said quickly and Soldier stopped instantly. Sam sighed and wordlessly gestured at Soldiers bloodstained body. "You can't leave like that. You gotta wash up." It didn't matter how dark and gloomy it was outside, they were going to be on a bus for an hour at minimum. He didn't need the bus driver calling the cops. 

He threw a thumb back to the bathroom and Soldier looked down at himself, then at Sam. Staring blankly. Huffing, Sam nodded towards the shower and spoke the necessary order. "Go take a shower Soldier."

Soldier walked past Sam, into the bathroom and stood in front of the shower. Sam followed to check on him and waited for Soldier to do something but he just stood there. Sam twisted his lips. He desperately wanted to give the man some privacy and let him bathe in peace, but he had his doubts about whether or not Soldier bathed himself or if Hydra did it for him. He imagined a prison style hosing down.

"You can clean yourself, right Soldier?"

Soldier looked as though he was recalibrating. Like he hadn't been prepared for that. But then he nodded.

Okay. Good start. Sam nodded slowly in response. Soldier was just standing there, waiting.

"Alright." Sam held back a tired groan. "Take your clothes off and get in the shower."

Sam looked away while Soldier stripped but looked back when he saw Soldier had his arm held out to hand Sam his clothes. He keeps doing that. Must be what he's used to. Sam's stomach curled but he took them anyway, scrunching up the warm clothes in his hands. That answered his, 'does he shower alone' question.

He supposed it made sense. If Soldier is some kind of dangerous super soldier experiment, he probably wasn't left alone when he wasn't on missions. Probably had someone watching him at all times when he was in this blank, stoic mode. Sam guessed he was only trusted to go anywhere on his own, when the "activation words" were in effect.

Sam peered towards the top of the shower. "There's soap and shampoo on the shelf there. Use 'em both. Get all the blood off." Soldier followed his gaze and seemed to understand. Exhaling, Sam backed up away from the door. "Okay. I'll be out here if you need anything." Sam went to close the door and Soldier blinked. 

"Are you going to watch?" Posing the question like he was confirming the details of his task. Double checking that he's just showering.

Sam's chest went tight. "No." His voice, flat. A bitterness on his tongue. "What I want, is to give you some privacy. Okay?"

Soldiers expression didn't change, nor did he respond. He turned the shower on, standing directly in the flow of water. Sam noted he only turned on the cold dial. Sam waited for him to adjust the temperature, make it at least warm but he was making no moves to do so. 

Sam sighed and leaned on the wall. "Soldier, turn on the hot water too."

Soldier did, to zero physical reaction. He was weirdly fine with ordering Soldier to do things that would make him more comfortable.

Sam left and leaned against the closed bathroom door. He had some friends who worked in elderly care and with people who have brain damage, or other mentally debilitating conditions. Maybe he could ask them for some tips on how not to feel so garbage while caring for their patients with non existent boundaries. People who can't make choices for themselves. Though Soldier's mind hadn't faded with age or because of an accident. Soldier's had his bodily autonomy taken from him. He's been treated like property for so long, now he acts like he believes that too. Everything he does is for someone else's purpose or enjoyment. He views himself as a prop for someone else's use, only to be used when needed.

Sam could dwell on that later. They needed to get going. Also Soldier needs clothes. He doesn't have time to clean the blood off his old ones.  

Bagel was at his feet. Bloody patches on her fur from leaning on Soldier. 

"C'mon girl." He lead her to the laundry where there was a deep sink with one of those detachable nozzles. Sam just grabbed a rag and drenched it so he could wipe the blood off Bagel. She sat there calmly while he did. When he was done she shook off the excess water and went back to following him around.

While looking for spare towels, he opened the cabinet in the hallway. There were dog toys, leashes and harnesses, multiple packets of treats and big bags of food. Sam's eyes zeroed in on the bright yellow dog harness, hanging on a hook on the inside of the door.

He turned his head to read the words. "Don't pet me! I'm working!" written on both sides in big bold letters

Sam's shoulders drooped, a wash of realization. He turned his head to see Bagel, sitting close by. 

She's a guide dog. Of course she is. 

The low light switches are so she can turn them on if her owner is having an episode. She can probably open doors on her own as well since they're all lever handles.

That's why she was latched onto Soldier from the moment she saw him. She must be a psychiatric guide dog. She's clocked onto Soldiers symptoms as someone with PTSD or dissociative disorders. And she's definitely flagged Sam's stress levels as well. When he first ran into her and Martin in front of the motel, she was trying to get him to sit down. 

Sam couldn't help but smile. "You a working lady?" Sam crouched down and ruffled her fur under her ears, around the sides of her head. She wagged her tail politely, looking up at Sam with big amber eyes. "Yeah you are baby girl."

The self help books, being dishonorably discharged, the guide dog for ptsd. Sam was getting a clearer picture at who the former home owner was.

His mind got stuck on that train of thought. Was the homeowner even related to Martin? Sam had his suspicions an innocent old man was killed and his guide dog was stolen so Hydra could try to snatch Soldier again. If they had more time, Sam would go back to the shed and try to figure out more about the guy.

The most pressing issue on his mind is that now, Bagel didn't have anyone to look after her anymore. There had to be a place in town they could drop her off at. He checked the time again. It's barely been ten minutes since the last time he checked. Breathe man. 

He found the towels in a different closet and went back to that room at the end of the hall. The closet was filled with clothes that thankfully all looked Soldier sized. 

The man who lived here owned practically nothing but black and camo green clothes. He picked out a pair of the army green cargo pants, a black shirt and a jacket, getting them ready for Soldier. He'd hoped for something more casual but apparently this guy never really left the military, according to his wardrobe.

By the time Sam found clothes and a towel, he heard the shower turn off. He got back to the bathroom right as the door opened. A light mist of steam drifted up out of the room around a clean, wet, naked Soldier. Sam turned his head away and held out the towel. An annoying flustered feeling flooded over him. Sam's only human and unfortunately, Soldier is gorgeous. Even more so when he's not covered in blood. Skin flushed pink from the hot water, making his blue eyes stand out even more. His brain didn't even process fast enough to speak an instruction. But apparently didn't need to. Soldier took the towel and dried himself off without Sam needing to risk stuttering. 

When he was done, he handed the towel back to Sam and he swapped it for the clothes. Sam checked the bus timetable while Soldier got dressed and ducked into the spare room to collect anything he'd left in there.

The majority of their stuff is back at the motel. Sam has his phone, wallet and the motel room key. He's pretty sure that's all he came here with. Anything that was stuffed into his pockets before he fell asleep in the motel. He double checked anyway, doing a short sweep of the room. Soldier entered the room behind him and watched Sam dart around. 

Alright. According to the town map in this weird little booklet, the bus stop is close by the motel. They just needed to get back there... but Sam doesn't know where this house is on the map. 

He wasn't paying attention. Right then, Soldier's head whipped to the window, his arm shot out, grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt and threw him down onto the ground, getting on top of him, right as a gunshot broke the bedroom window, sending glass shattering to the ground. 

"Fuck–" Sam yelped, bracing himself on the floor under Soldier, short shouts of orders came from outside, followed by the dull thud and rolling noise of something being lobbed through the broken window.

With lightning speed, Soldier commando rolled over to the window, grabbing whatever it was and tossed it back out of the hole in the window. There were some startled voices following the sound of a smoke bomb going off, gas pouring out of it into the open air. It won't be nearly as effective as it would have been in a small room, if at all. But at least it wasn't in here. 

Bagel started barking. Whether she's barking to alert them of the intruders or something else. Sam didn't know how to get her to stop. She had her legs in a wide stance, barking at the window.

"Bagel. Shh. Bagel." He hissed,crawling over to her, using the bed as cover. "Soldier, get down." Sam snapped over his shoulder. Soldier immediately stood back, away from the window, ducking down closer to Sam.

He snapped his fingers to get Soldiers attention, giving him a stern look. "Soldier do not kill anyone." They don't need more bodies piling up behind them.

Soldier nodded once. Moving to keep an eye on the hallway. Sam's mind raced for an escape plan. 

"Soldier, did you see where Martin put the car keys?" It was a big ask but it was the only other option besides from doing a sprint across the town. They weren't gonna make the bus on foot at this rate. Especially since Sam still doesn't have a clue how far away from town this house is.

Soldier stood with his back to the hallway wall. "I heard them on his person when he returned." The gears in Soldiers head are turning. "His coat. I'll go get them."

Sam held up a hand. "No, wait. You keep an eye out. I'll get them." 

Soldier's eye twitched. That was the most visual sign Sam's ever received that Soldier did not like his plan. Well, too bad. They're doing it this way. 

Soldier bent down and picked up a tranq gum, he checked it for ammo and cocked it, giving Sam a nod that he was ready. 

Sam took a breath to try and centre himself. "Can you take 'em out?" He didn't even know how many were out there. Despite that fact, Soldiers eyes hardened. 

"Yes." Soldier's definitive tone almost calmed Sam down. 

Okay. Now or never. Sam favoured speed over quiet as he darted forward, peering around the corner. They aren't inside yet. That was probably going to change soon. Martin's coat is hanging on the coat rack by the front door. Sam couldn't overthink it too much. He had to trust that Soldier would cover him. 

Zeroing in on the coat, Sam ran over, shoving his hand into one empty pocket, before scrambling to find the other one, needing to part the heavy fabric to find it. Even the most simple tasks felt impossible right now. 

His fingers curled around the cold metal, and he let out an exasperated noise. Always the last one you check...

"Got 'em, let's–" a heavy thud nearly ripped the door from it hinges. The next thud basically did. Sam's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Not giving him a moment to recover, behind him, Soldier fired the tranq gum twice, hitting the two men that tried to sneak through the back door. Fantastic. They're surrounded. 

He waved a hand at Soldier. "Back room, down the hall. Get the window open. Quietly." He hissed as he got closer, hoping the rain and the thudding on the front door was enough to conceal his plan. They couldn't risk going out the back door if there were more guys out there. Soldier did as he was told and stalked down the hall, Sam following close behind. 

Soldier parted the curtains and lifted the blinds, opening the window. He looked out to either side before deftly hopping out the window.

"Is the coast clear?" Sam whispered as Soldier landed in the wet grass outside. He turned back and nodded. Sam was about to join him when he noticed that Bagel was still following them. 

Sam's throat tightened. "Bagel, you can't–" 

He stopped. He was about to tell her to stay. That she can't come with them. Of course she shouldn't. She could get hurt with them.

But she could get hurt here too. Martin's dead, her original owner is most likely dead. There's no one to look after her. Would Hydra use the life of a dog against them? Yeah, probably. He doesn't think anything is off the table as far as horrible, inhuman acts go. If Sam can stop this from being a problem, before it becomes one....

"Stay here." He doubled back and grabbed the harness and leash out of the hallway closet, right as the front door flew open. He darted back and put the leash on but not the harness. Guide dogs are typically trained to behave a certain way once the working harness is on and Sam needed her listening to him. 

"Okay c'mere." He picked up Bagel and passed her to Soldier through the window. "Grab her." 

Soldier accepted the armful of dog and set her down as Sam climbed out the window, pulling the curtains closed behind him, then the window. The rain drenching them was providing much needed cover as they snuck around the house, over to the car Martin had been driving. Whether it was his originally, remained to be seen. Sam could hear voices shouting inside and doors slamming open while he unlocked the car. 

They got inside and Sam wasted no time turning the engine on and peeling out of the driveway. He didn't look back. They no doubt heard the car but hopefully they'll be out of sight by the time Hydra can chase them. He checked the time on the dashboard of the car. Almost six o'clock. They have just over fifteen minutes to get to the bus. Sam hoped he could just follow the road and it would lead them back into town. He had no intentions of adding grand theft auto to his list of crimes. The car is staying in this town.

Soldier was nearly fully turned around in his seat, watching out the back window. Not that Sam's certain he could see anything through the downpour. Sam was struggling, and he had windshield wipers and headlights. 

After nearly ten stressful minutes of driving, the dirt road turned to real road and Sam recognised the buildings in the distance from his frantic sprint through town last night.

Lucky for them, the storm was keeping everyone in their homes or businesses and off the streets. Sam could drive like a maniac on the open country roads with his only fear being heavy wind and rain. 

The blinking motel sign flashed through the rainfall and Sam thought the nerves in his hands were going to start snapping from tension. He didn't realise how hard he'd been gripping the steering wheel until he swung into a park and leapt out of the car, leaving it unlocked with the keys in the ignition. Sam desperately scanned his surroundings for the bus stop and swore he almost felt a warm rush of joy when he spotted it a block down from the motel. The bus is already there. That made sense. A bus that only comes twice a day probably hangs around before the leaving time to make sure people have plenty of time to get on.

Sam pointed Soldier to the bus, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, handing it to Soldier, as well as Bagels leash and harness. "Get on the bus, I'll catch up."

Soldier's eye twitched again but he obeyed nonetheless. He headed to the bus while Sam sprinted to their motel room.

He hurried to unlock the door.

It's already unlocked. 

The door flung open and a Hydra agent jabbed forward with the his taser. The crackling sound making Sam's back twitch. Sam lifted a leg and kicked him in the middle of the stomach, though it was rushed and clumsy. The man stumbled back, righting himself and swinging the taser baton like a bat. Sam had to make a split second choice to raise his arm to stop it hitting his face, or try to dodge and risk leaving himself over for a body shot. He raised an arm, hissing as the electricity zapped his forearm, sending a sharp stinging pain up his whole arm. 

He tried to land another kick on him, but the agent was ready for Sam, grabbing his leg to knock him off balance. Sam kicked himself free, but not before the man lunged forward and jabbed him in the side with the taser. The burn spread from his side, to his ribs, rippling across his body like oil catching fire on the surface of water. Sam couldn't even scream, he fell to his knees and a heavy boot kicked him in the face. 

He fell to the floor with a grunt as the man huffed, standing over him while he twitched in the aftermath from the taser. Sam heard a radio click and the agent started to speak in Russian. Sam didn't catch any of it. 

It's not going down like this. Not happening.

Sam took a hurried breath, pushing himself to his knees. His muscles ached as they tried to contract from the shock but he pushed through it.

Rushing to get back to Soldier was going to get him killed. He needs to steady himself and think.

Adrenaline coursed through him. Like his body turned off his pain receptors so he could focus, though his body still stumbled like he was injured.

The man tried to kick him back to the floor but Sam swiftly dodged, getting back on his feet. Sam waited for his opening, dodging and deflecting attacks where he could, finally he found gap in his defense where Sam could disarm him. Grabbing his wrist, twisting his own body so he had his back to him with the agents arm tucked under Sam's arm. He swung back with all his remaining strength and elbowed him in the face, twisting his arm at the same time to break his grip. Turning on his heels, he jabbed the taser right into his chest and held it there, the man wailed as the shocks tore through him and he collapsed on the ground. 

Gasping, holding his side. Sam grabbed his bag and Soldiers boots and stumbled out of the room. Sam thinks he dropped the room key on the front door mat but he didn't look back to check. 

He got to the bus right as the driver honked the horn twice, signalling it was getting ready to leave. Sam dragged his arm up to knock on the door to the bus. It folded open and kind looking, round faced man smiled sympathetically at Sam after one look at him, drenched from head to toe. Sam silently hoped the rain washed away any blood on his face.

"Oh look at ya'. Get in here pal, watch your step." He'd clearly just gotten finished lining the walkway down the middle of the bus with towels before he sat down at the drivers seat. 

Sam managed a polite smile and a thanks, catching his breath on a nearby handrail as the doors closed behind him. He could see Soldier sitting with Bagel a few seats from the front. There were half a dozen other people on the bus in various states of dryness. 

Sam went to pat his pockets for his wallet and remembered Soldier has it. Sam pointed to Soldier. "Ah– My friend has my wallet."

The driver laughed. "Oh is the strange fella with you? He offered me ya' whole wallet." A hearty laugh shook his seat. "Then I had to tell him to sit down....cute dog though!"

Sam forced a chuckle. "Don't mind him..." He took deep, slow breaths to conceal the considerable amount of pain he's in. "He's uh...foreign." 

The friendly driver nodded politely. "That checks out! Hope he's having a nice visit! Anyway, go take a seat, he paid for two. Dogs ride for free." Another joyful chuckle. Sam really wishes he had it in him to match this guy's energy but he's be lucky if he doesn't pass out as soon as he sits down. He waited until Sam had sat down before putting the bus into gear, the engine rumbling on.

"Get cosy. We got a long drive ahead of us." Rain smacked against the sides of the bus as it took off down the road.

Sam placed himself next to Soldier, Bagel sitting on the towels in the walkway. His body melted into the seat, rumbling as the bus picked up speed.

The driver had evidently given Soldier a towel to dry himself or Bagel off, and Soldier simply draped the towel over Bagels back. Sam went to reach down to dry her off but the pain in his side that had dulled slightly from the cold and the rain, rippled through his body again. Sending a new wave of searing pain over him.

Sam gasped, wincing as he leaned back. Soldier basically shot upright. "You're injured." He stated, staring at him. Sam raised a hand to try and shush him.

"It's fine man." He tried to subtly wave him off, speaking quietly since they were surrounded by people. "There was a Hydra guy in the motel. I handled it."

Soldier's face grew intense, leaning closer. Turning his body towards Sam and putting his metal arm over the back of Sam's side of the chair. 

"Where?"

Sam stilled at the closeness, not having the strength to shift away. "What?"

"Where are you injured?" Soldier reiterated, scanning down his body. 

Soldier wasn't going to drop it and Sam didn't want him bring more attention to them than he already is. Sam sighed and flinched as he lifted up his shirt, revealing the seared, raw skin underneath. "It looks worse than it is." He whispered, keeping his tone light.

Soldier's eyes widened the tiniest bit on Sam's side. Sam was about to drop his shirt when Soldier moved his hand towards him, his fingers lightly grazed where unmarried skin met the burn. Sam's abdomen twitched instinctively at the contact. His fingers were cold, but instantly started to warm against Sam's skin. Soldier didn't move his hand, he just stared down at the wound, his brow pinched together.

"I'm sorry." His voice was almost sorrowful. Sam shook his head.

"It's not your fault." The words escaped his lips before he thought about it. Only thinking of being comforting.

Soldier's face only seemed to grow more mournful, regret seeping into his expression. He's blaming himself. 

"Hey–" Sam's voice quiet and soft, he tapped under Soldiers chin to raise his head to look Sam in the eyes. "I'm good." Oozing sincerity looking into those gentle blue eyes.

Soldier stared back but there was none of the intensity he was expecting, nor was it blank and stoic like usual. It was like he's truly looking at Sam. Taking him in.

Sam's heart started to beat faster, picking up the pace the longer Sam could feel Soldiers breath on his face. His hand still gently laid over Sam's stomach.

Sam's eyes slowly trailed down his face...

Swallowing hard, Sam ripped his eyes away, turning his head and pulling his shirt back down, nudging Soldiers hand away. He inhaled until his lungs couldn't take anymore and let it out in a harsh puff.

Not okay Sam.

Not okay at all..