The Soldier
Of all the people Steve expected to find on Sam's doorstep a month after the Project Insight Incident, he did not expect the Winter Soldier: Dressed in a dark hoodie, baseball cap tugged low, hiding his hawkish nose and sunken cheekbones -- it made the casual observer glide over his face without really registering. At first Steve didn't recognize him -- the only two times they'd really been face to face had involved a lot of blood and punching. But then he'd looked up and Steve caught those piercing gray eyes.
"Um… hi.” Steve self-consciously wiped his hands on the pants -- he was helping Sam cook dinner. Steve ran a quick threat assessment – the Winter Soldier carried a nondescript backpack, and several lumps on his body were probably weapons of different sorts. But the fact that the man had opened with a “Hello Captain Rogers” and not by throwing Steve into a nearby wall was a pretty good sign. The length of his beard and and general lack of tactical gear and heavy weaponry seem to indicate that he hadn’t reported back to HYDRA since the helicarriers went down. But still, their last exchange didn’t exactly merit a house call. What do you say to someone whose arm you broke in 3 places and who’d shot you 4 times? "Um… I guess I should thank you for pulling me out of the Potomac. That was you, wasn’t it?“
The Soldier nodded in affirmation.
That was definitely a surreal moment for Steve -- as he was tumbling down toward the water amidst the wreckage of the Triskellion, he'd thought it was his chance to join Bucky. When Bucky fell Steve'd screamed but this time ... well, he didn’t have much to lose. So it'd really made no sense when the man who’d been trying to kill him jumped in and pulled him out. He had the Winter Soldier to thank for saving his life, but at the time, Steve wasn’t even sure if he wanted it.
And now the man with the gray eyes and the unremarkable face and the utterly inscrutable intentions was standing in Sam’s doorway, asking in a tentative voice, "Permission to enter, Captain?”
A part of Steve wanted to laugh – it was just like the vampire stories that Mrs. Bobiensky liked to tell when he was a kid – vampires and ghouls standing in the doorway, asking for permission to cross the threshold. If Steve said no, would the Winter Soldier disappear or burn up in the sunlight?
And Steve *wanted* to say no – he was trying to keep a low profile between all the media and government upheaval from the SHIELD/HYDRA filedump. HYDRA agents were surfacing in every agency, while Fury and Natasha were nowhere to be found. Inviting the Winter Soldier in just seemed like bad news. Plus he’d *just* moved in with Sam two weeks ago, and Sam shouldn’t have to deal with an unknown assassin in his house…
“Hey Steve, what are your feelings about couscous?” Sam chose at that moment to turn into the foyer, and Steve could feel the momentary tension as Sam processed what was happening. But by the time Sam made it to the doorway, he was all calm and smiles. "Hey there. Winter Soldier, right?“ Sam leaned past Steve to open the screen door. "No use standing on the steps, you’re letting all the air conditioning out.” He nudged Steve to step aside. "Why don’t you come in? We’ll be starting dinner soon – and I think I made too much couscous.“
The Winter Soldier looked back at Steve for confirmation, and Steve could only shrug. "Sam’s house, Sam’s call.”
Sam led the Winter Soldier into his living room, deliberately ignoring all of Steve's looks and not-so-subtle hints as he settled the soldier in front of the TV with a nature documentary. Only then did he let Steve pull him into the kitchen for a whispered debriefing.
"Sam, he tried to kill me. And you. We don’t know if he’s gone back to HYDRA. Who knows what he’s been up to?”
Sam shrugged, unperturbed. "It looks like he’s been getting by on the streets.“ He frowned. "I hope he’s been getting enough to eat." Sam started rustling around the fridge. "Maybe I should make some garlic bread. And I think I’ve still got some clean sheets in the closet…”
Steve felt like he was missing something. Either that or everyone's gone crazy. "You want him to *stay*? What’s to stop him from stabbing you in the middle of the night? He's clearly packing at least three knives." He leaned back against the counter. "Sam, we should really turn him in to someone who's better equipped to handle this. The Avengers or…“ Steve faltered – did he trust any other group, what with the way HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD?
Sam turned back with triumphant garlic bread from the freezer, and shot Steve a quizzical look. "Hey man, didn’t you read any of the stuff about him from the filedump?”
“No…?” When he woke up in the hospital, Steve knew that he only wanted two things: one was to make a go of it with Sam, and two was to eradicate HYDRA like he should have done 70 years ago. Zola’s smug look from the screen haunted him. If he'd done his job properly that night in the factory, then Bucky wouldn’t have died the following year…
Sam thrust his laptop under Steve’s nose. "Look through some of his files, man. It’s a doozy.“ Sam turned to preheat the oven, but kept talking. "I don’t know how this guy has managed to stay alive, Steve – every time he disobeys the slightest they zap his brain. They put him on ice and pull him out whenever they needed someone killed.” Steve paged through a succession of horrific yet sterile medical reports and photos. “Who knows how long they’ve been doing this? Bastards completely broke a man into a killing machine.” Steve snapped the laptop shut. Like all the other files that Natasha dumped on the internet, these files only went back to the 80s with the digital revolution.
“But Sam, if he’s been a killing machine for at least the last 3 decades, what’s to say that he’s not still a pure weapon? The risks…” What happened to the Winter Soldier was tragic, but protecting Sam was more important.
“You said it yourself – he pulled you out of the Potomac when he had no reason to. That meant there’s something in him that’s the original guy." Sam looked up from the oven, suddenly serious. "Steve, I think that makes him the kind of guy you try to help, and not the kind you turn over to the authorities.”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about all the shadowy authorities and institutions that make of this world. That was the problem, really. HYDRA was horrible, but he can hardly blame the actions of the institution on its product. He sighed. "Yes, you’re right, Sam. He deserves dinner at the very least, and honestly, there’s no one I’d trust to turn him over to.“
"Steve, you okay?” Sam set down the spoonful of sauce that he was tasting and gave Steve a worried look.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve didn’t want to bring up how hard he found it to trust *anyone* these days. When he got out from the hospital he didn’t even go back to his old apartment – just bought new clothes and a new laptop. Who knew was was bugged there? And by whom? Then after 2 weeks going from motel to motel he showed back up at Sam’s place. Sam who let him into his house and into his bed without any hesitation. Sam who had been his emotional bedrock the last two weeks.
Steve straightened and tried to kiss away Sam's furrowed brow. "I trust your judgement, Sam. Let’s have dinner with the guy whose last mission was to kill us.“ And if the Winter Soldier did decide to stab them, well, Steve had some experience in dealing with that.
* * *
"Inaccurate, Captain. My final mission was to protect the helicarrier launch.” Winter looked up from the mashed potatoes that he was consuming with rapid speed. Sam had handed him a plate piled high with a bit of everything just five minutes ago, but now it was just down to the potatoes. “That was the Secretary’s final stated directive to me. He said there would be no more need for me after.”
Sam nodded, and tried not to think about what Pierce would have done with the Winter Soldier once the Insight helicarriers made him obsolete. "Well, I’m glad that the failure of the mission didn’t stop it from being your final mission.“ Winter’s mouth twitched a bit at that. Was that a grin of satisfaction? Did Winter purposely choose to interpret his mission order in that way? If so, Sam for one was impressed.
"And HYDRA just let you go? Without any additional missions?” Sam winced at Steve’s brusque question. Steve has been tense and on edge since Winter showed up, though when Sam really thought about it, Steve hadn’t really relaxed since the time he showed up at Sam’s back door with Natasha in tow.
“I have not returned to any bases since the incident. That was my Final Mission, Captain.” Winter's voice was always courteous when speaking to Steve, who he obviously considered some sort of superior commander, but there was no mistaking it this time – that is definitely a flash of a grin on Winter’s face. Sam would bet anything that some guy in HYDRA was still waiting for the Winter Soldier to show up for a debrief. He kinda wanted to high-five the dude, brainwashing and all.
Sam was still pondering the logistics of high-fiving a deadly brainwashed assassin when suddenly Winter disappeared underneath the table.
“Winter?” Winter'd just finished his plate, and maybe he dropped a spoon.
Then someone was tugging on his fly with an intractable metal hand. Sam would really like to retract the yelp that came from his throat as he leapt about 5 feet away from the table and clutched his crotch, but that was already out and Steve was already forming a solid barrier between him and Winter, who was still awkwardly kneeling under the table, frozen with his hand up.
Steve kept his eyes fixed on Winter and hand on his shield (where did that come from?) while he called back to Sam, “You all right? He hurt you?”
“I'm fine. Guy just tried to unzip my pants.” Sam couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. Winter was clearly unarmed, so he wasn’t trying trying to cut Sam’s dick off. " I think… he um… wanted to give me a blowjob???“
"Confirmed,” said Winter from underneath the table. Sam couldn’t help laughing a bit. One second Sam was wondering if Winter knew about high-fives, and the next second he was about to get a blowjob. This got surreal fast.
Sam watched as Winter scooted a bit out from under the table and crawled to kneel in front of Steve. "I’m sorry, Captain. As you are the ranking officer here I should be thanking you first, even though the Falcon was the actual supplier of food.“ Time seemed to stand still as Winter reached up to unzip *Steve’s* pants. All Sam could think was What. The. Fuck.
Thankfully Steve was quicker to recover than Sam. "Stand down, Soldier.” Steve managed to bark out. Winter’s hands immediately fell to his sides and a look of fear flashed over Winter’s face. He bowed his head down. "I’m sorry for my mistake, Captain. If you tell me what it is, it won’t happen again.“
There was some crazy HYDRA thing going on here. Sam reached over and gave Steve's hand a reassuring squeeze as Steve heaved a sigh. "Return to your seat, Winter. I need an explanation.”
They all sat back down and Sam took a deep breath. Maybe inviting the Winter Soldier in was a tad more complicated than extra garlic bread and clean sheets.
* * *
“It’s how things are done.” He struggled to find the words to explain that this was the natural way of things. "It’s the only way I know.“ Because it’s the only way he'd *ever* known.
Steve and the Falcon sat patiently across from him, waiting for further explanation, so he kept his eyes averted (because that’s what he’s supposed to do when he’s in trouble), and tried to put into words the things he knew to be instinctively true. "I am only to eat food given to me by approved personnel. I am to express gratitude for anything given to me outside of basic field provisions. Gratitude is most commonly expressed through fellatio, though sometimes the commanding officer desires something different.” He risked a look at Steve. The Captain. "The most senior officer’s demands supercede all others.“
"So you’ve been going around DC sucking off anyone who gave you food?” The Falcon said after a pause. The Falcon sounded ... concerned. When superior officers sounded concerned about his actions, it usually involved ... correction.
“Negative." He quickly tried to address the concern. "They were civilians, not approved personnel. I was given 10 days’ field rations before my final mission. I finished the last one yesterday.”
“So you put yourself on a starvation diet to make the field rations last?” Steve sounded calm. He knew he could count on the Captain to not be concerned.
“Correct.”
The Falcon whistled lightly. "Heh, guess you really didn’t want to go back to HYDRA after your final mission.“ This was not a question, so he chose not to confirm or deny it. "So why is it okay to eat our food?”
“You are approved personnel by association with the Captain.” He shot Steve another look. He knew Steve, even before he was the Captain. That, too, was instinctively true. The captain nodded, slowly. Steve did not know him in the same instinctive way, but Steve was a good captain and a fair commander.
The Falcon set another full plate in front of him. “Hey, Winter.” He liked the way the Falcon smiled and he liked being called Winter. Cold meant peace. Cold meant rest.
His stomach growled at the sight of more food, but the issue of gratitude still hadn't been resolved. He looked at Falcon. "Sir?"
"Look, I know what it’s like to be so used to one way of doing things that coming back to civilian life throws you for a loop. So… here’s the deal: outside of HYDRA, the way you express gratitude is to say ‘Thank you.’“
Winter considered this, and matched it up with his observations of civilian use of the phrase over the last month. Was he considered a civilian now? That did not feel true. In addition... "There are cases where in addition to the phrase 'Thank you,’ I’ve observed people exchanging money for food, or kisses, or labor, or even other food.”
“Ah. Well…” The Falcon had a look on his face of trying to explain something that was instinctive to *him*. "With… non-approved personnel, you usually exchange money, and with friends… er… approved personnel, you might offer to help in other ways.“
"Like fellatio?” Maybe fellatio was still the standard action, just not for the Falcon specifically.
The Falcon blushed and looked at Steve. “Well, only if both you and the person agreed to that." Then he turned to Winter again. "Look, you should, um… ask the person what kind of assistance they prefer, and you can always say no if what they want is not something you want to do. Or even make a counter-offer.”
Winter looked down at his new plate of food. Being here was more complicated than being with HYDRA. Fellatio was simple. Following orders was simple. Having to always decide if he wanted to do something or not sounded exhausting. But he was ready for more complicated, which was why he came to the Captain in the first place. He looked once more at Steve for confirmation, then turned to the Falcon. “Thank you for the food, Falcon. What can I do to help?”
The Falcon laughed in relief. "How about you start calling me Sam, and help me wash the dishes after dinner?“
Winter liked it even more when Falcon laughed. It was loud and didn't carry the threat of punishment. "Affirmative.” He picked up a fork and dug into the new plate, relieved that his mistake had been corrected without any punishment.
After dinner Winter helped Falcon "wash the dishes." This turned out to be relatively simple task and Winter was able to pick it up effectively on the first try, and didn't require further training. Falcon smiled at him. That, too, was nice.
Then Falcon showed Winter to his new holding cell. Winter did a perimeter check and found the windows properly locked. There were no listening or other monitoring devices aside from the one that controlled the room temperature, which seemed irregular. There was a bed, two lamps, a closet with boxes, an empty dresser, and, next to the window, an armchair and a shelf of books. There was a small adjoining area with all the washing and cleansing implements. Winter briefly wondered if he was expected to cleanse himself, or to wait for a technician. Overall, the cell had far better facilities for personal care than the HYDRA ones that he could remember – it resembled more the hotel rooms where the Secretary would sometimes request his presence. The bed definitely looked very comfortable and worthy of someone like the Secretary or Steve. It’s good that Steve would not have to sit on some hard bunk when he needed Winter’s services.
This was far more than he expected when he turned himself in. Although Steve and Falcon lacked much of the technology and weaponry of a standard HYDRA facility, they were far more permissive with what they had. Winter had a feeling that they would not impede his self-assigned mission, though he was also glad that the Captain hadn't performed a full debrief when he turned himself in.
Winter settled into his cell – he unstrapped his backpack, took off his shirt and boots, picked a promising book from the shelf, and sat down on the floor to read.
“Whoa, you okay there?” Winter looked back up to see Falcon's standing at the door, holding some towels and blankets, Steve standing just behind. There was that concern in Falcon's voice again. Something was wrong and needed to be corrected.
“Nothing that I can observe, Sam.” Winter replied, careful to use Falcon’s preferred form of address. "Although if you see something wrong I will correct my action immediately.“ It’s going to take him a while to learn the expectations here. Winter hoped it wasn’t the book. He’d dropped it as soon as he heard Falcon's question, and it’s now obscured behind him. He'd gotten sloppy: usually he’s permitted the items in his holding cell, and the book looked so exciting.... Then again, it might not be the book. It might not be anything. Some commanders were very permissive but would then suddenly punish him severely without warning. Winter hoped that Falcon wasn’t that type, though he could already feel his body bracing for pain.
"Hey there,” Falcon reached out slowly with a hand. Winter couldn’t help twitching away. Malfunction. Heart pounding, Winter forced himself to return to a position where he sat kneeling and facing towards Steve and Falcon. If he hadn’t done anything wrong before, now he had. This was the sort of malfunction that always made punishment worse, and Winter wished he had better control over himself. He briefly wondered if there was anything he could do to change things now – some commanders accepted apologies.
But when he looked back up, Falcon had retreated to the doorway, towels and bedding still in his hand. He was frowning and muttering to Steve.
Steve laid hand on Falcon's shoulder, then walked over and squatted down next to Winter. Winter held himself still. Steve was fair, this he knew.
"Hey Winter, you’re obviously scared. Care to explain why?“
A direct question must be answered to the best of his ability, even if it incurs more punishment. Winter swallowed. "I do not yet know the rules and punishments of your command, Captain, and may have done something that Sam sees as not okay and will punish me for." Winter wondered if Steve would use the bed today. Or Sam, or both. Level 2 punishment seemed appropriate, and he knew Steve was not cruel. If only he could express his gratitude in the old way.
Steve looked back at Sam, then said carefully, "You have not broken any rules in this house, Winter, so there won’t be any punishment. Sam was just surprised by the scars on your body and wanted to know if you felt okay.” Winter nodded and allowed himself to relax a bit. This was something that he knew the answer to.
“That is my body functioning within normal parameters, Sam.” Winter made sure to report to Falcon this time. "The arm is constantly pulling at my muscles here and here,“ he gestured, "Hence the continual scarring. At specific times of the evening, and given sufficient nutrition, implants along my spine trigger accelerated healing to repair the damage.” He turned around to show the way the implant spots trace red and purple lines back to his arm. "The pain and bruising subsides in about two hours. It is regular maintenance.“ Winter turned back around and tried to smile at Falcon. Falcon liked smiles. "I hope you find that acceptable, Sam?”
“Um, yeah. Thanks for explaining, Winter. And I’m sorry that I spooked you.” It felt odd to hear gratitude and apologies come from other people, but Winter nodded, since that seemed like the appropriate response. Then Falcon continued, “Would you like it if we made a clear list of rules and punishments so that you can anticipate them?”
That would indeed be very helpful. Winter remembered to express gratitude in the appropriate manner. "Thank you, Sam. What can I do to help? HYDRA had very clear levels of punishment, if you wish for a reference...“
Steve suddenly cut in, his voice tight with anger, "And what was that? The punishments.”
Winter couldn’t help flinching again. A part of him trusted Steve not to hurt him, but another part of him said that Steve didn’t know him like he knew Steve. He took a deep breath. "The lowest level were surface lacerations of the skin by knife or whip, healing time 1-2 hours. Second was rectal penetration, same healing time, but greater discomfort. Third: deeper cuts and moderate muscle damage, healing time 5-6 hours . Fourth was breaking of bones. Fifth was complete reset.“ He never quite knew what would merit the severity of punishment he’d receive, but the tiers were always quite clear.
Steve exchanged a look with Falcon again.
"Thanks, Winter.” Falcon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked sick. Winter wondered if Falcon accepted apologies. "We’ll get a list drawn up by the morning.“ He laid down the bundle in his arms on the dresser in Winter’s cell. "In the mean time, here’s a fresh towel and toothbrush for your bathroom – I’ve got a really good hot water boiler, so take as long as you want, whenever you want. There's also some extra shirts there.” Winter nodded in acknowledgement. So he was to cleanse and dress himself.
"Sleep well, and we'll see you in the morning!" After they closed the door, Winter breathed a sigh of relief. He was expected to sleep, to cleanse himself, and to be retrieved from his cell in the morning for a review of rules. They have not required him to turn in his backpack, and it seemed like they either didn’t notice the book, or didn’t care to take it from him. He cracked open The Oxford History of the 20th Century and started reading.
* * *
“Hey, Earth to Steve…” Sam snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, then cocked his head. "Wait, do you even get that reference?“
Steve frowned and searched his brain for arbitrary trivia. "It’s about space exploration, right?” He looked down at the piece of paper by Sam’s hand. "Guess you found a few more things to add to the list?“
"Yup.” Sam waved it triumphantly. "Clear housemate expectations framed in a way that even the most brainwashed ex-HYDRA assassin could understand. Plus I snuck in a few self-care suggestions.“
Sam looked so inordinately pleased with himself that Steve couldn’t help pulling him into a quick kiss. "You’re pulling out all the stops for this guy, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I owe him.”
Steve must have made a face because Sam laughed. "You keep forgetting how important you are to other people, Steve.“ Steve opened his mouth to argue that it was Captain America that people looked up to, not him, but Sam hushed him with another kiss. "Yes, I mean you, Steve Rogers, a guy who clearly wanted out and *needed* to be, but who went back in because it was the right thing to do. That was … inspirational, you know? Way more than that rah rah Captain America stuff.”
Sam nibbled playfully at Steve’s shoulder, before looking at Steve seriously. "So when I saw the helicarrier fall, and heard over comms that you were still on it… I couldn’t help thinking ‘Not Again’. Grounded and useless when you were falling." Sam paused, and buried his head in Steve's shoulder for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was once again firm and calm. "So imagine how it felt to find you by the riverside, *alive*, with your shield tucked under your arm…“ Sam fixed him with a look. "Winter saved your life, and that means a hellava lot to me.”
Steve couldn’t help feeling a chill down his back. He knew this was probably the closest Sam was going to come to saying it: Why didn’t Steve value his own life as much as Sam and an anonymous HYDRA assassin did?
He owed Sam an explanation.
But that would involve talking about Bucky, and he’d been trying not to think about Bucky for the last 3 years and a century. He’d especially been trying to avoid thinking about Bucky around Sam – it felt like cheating in some way, though he wasn’t sure if he was betraying Bucky or Sam. Steve sighed. Peggy was right: he’s a melodramatic idiot.
“Ever since I was little, I didn’t really care about dying. Guess that came from being sick enough to die 4 months out of 12. And being smart enough to know that a poor son of an Irish immigrant single mother didn’t have a chance at having much of a life, even if I did survive to 20. The eugenics people probably had me on their list.” Steve shrugged. "Compared to hacking out your lungs, a bloody nose didn’t count for much, so I always just threw myself into fights that felt right. Schoolyard bullies became bar fights became political rallies which then became Hitler and HYDRA.“ Sam nodded. This stuff was probably in the history books.
"And through it all, it was always someone else who pulled me out before I actually killed myself – at first it was my ma, and afterwards, it was Bucky. Sometimes, it was Peggy. Someone to remind me that I’m more than the fight, someone who loved me enough to jump in after me, and someone who I loved enough to make me look back when I charge in.” Steve fixed Sam with a look. "For the longest time, that was Bucky.“ He hoped Sam could feel the weight of the complicated history between him and Bucky that couldn’t be expressed in words, and he saw Sam nodding. He could tell Sam specifics if he ever wanted to know, but not right now. There was still one last part. Steve took a deep breath. "After he died, there was just Peggy, and then after I woke up ... well, with Peggy fading away in the hospital ... I didn't really have anyone." Steve looked at his hands, thinking about the emptiness of his pre-furnished SHIELD apartment, the furniture that he barely used. He'd never been alone before that. He almost begged Fury for a bunk in the Triskellion. "I started forgetting what that was like, to care about myself that way, to jump with the knowledge that someone would pull me out. It was easier to just fight the closest and biggest bully and not cared if I lived or died. I still don’t know why Winter jumped in after me, but what’s more important, is that *you* were the one by my bedside when I woke up.“
And no, Steve wasn’t going to say it outright, either, but Sam got it. He locked eyes with Steve and grinned, slow and wide. Setting down the paper they’d been working on, Sam slid a hand under Steve’s shirt and started pulling Steve up the stairs to their room.
They barely made it to the bed.
But after, cradled in Sam’s arms, Steve found himself thinking about Bucky again as he drifted off to sleep. The first night they had to themselves after getting everyone out of that HYDRA factory, he'd traced his hand along the line of red bumps down Bucky’s back. Bucky'd dismissed them as bug bites before smiling that smile of his and thoroughly exploring Steve’s new body… and Steve’d forgotten about the whole thing until Winter's back implants reminded him. They did have the indentation of bug bites, but what if … Winter’s chilling statement about HYDRA’s punishment policies echoed through his head. The cool detached way that he talked about whipping, rape, and physical mutiliation… what if Zola had done that to Bucky in the factory? Steve swallowed, hard. He really needed to find the HYDRA files from the war.
Sam mumbled pleasantly in his sleep, and Steve shifted to get a better hold on him. Zola could wait for the morning. He gently kissed Sam on the forehead. The Winter Soldier might be sleeping just downstairs, but he had Sam to chase away the nightmares.
* * *
Sam had woken up warm and happy in Steve's arms, but now, at half past ten, all those feelings have been replaced by frustration and weariness. Since he'd forgotten to ask Winter about his morning routine the night before, he insisted on canceling their morning run, which left both of them slightly ornery, though Steve more so. Then breakfast cooled as they waited for Winter. Finally, at 10am, after 4 hours of waiting, Sam’d finally knocked on the Winter's door and went in, fully expecting to find him gone. Instead, it turned out that he was showered and dressed and sitting on the floor, calmly reading a book the whole time. He’d thought of the room as his “holding cell”, and was waiting for “retrieval.” So it was up to Sam to explain that Winter had full control and access to the room, that he had the right to go anywhere without “superior supervision.” Sam knew a bit about how confusing and open-ended civilian life can seem after the structures of the military, but HYDRA had taken ownership of the Winter Soldier to another level altogether.
Basically all the hustle and wait of this morning had been no one's fault but HYDRA's, but if things don't get resolved in the next 15 minutes, Sam was gonna be late for work. Steve had been singularly unhelpful in this whole thing -- he'd woken up with Zola on his lips, and hadn't looked up from his laptop in the last few hours.
“Well?” Winter had been studying the list for 20 minutes, and Sam was trying not to check his watch. "Any questions? Anything you need clarified? Any proposed amendments?“ Sam didn’t think the list was *that* challenging – the "rules” mostly involved things like “don’t finish the last of Steve’s cereal” and “don’t physically harm people, especially civilians” and “if you deplete a common household item, like toilet paper, please replace it”. And the “punishments” mostly involved saying sorry, being honest, and extra chores. He even made sure the list of “suggested ways of expressing gratitude” were easy things like “make breakfast” or “go out for a walk” or “carry a conversation with one of us.”
Winter frowned. He was clearly working up to something. Sam put on a smile and tried not to scare him. Winter spooked so easily. He was rewarded with the statement, "This doesn’t say anything about the process for the requisitioning of additional resources.“
Sam blinked. "What?"
“With HYDRA, if I needed an specific weapon, there was a system, with forms and an evaluation procedure….” Winter was definitely angling for something.
"Well, you hardly need any more weapons than you do now, do you? Is this some sort of request that I buy Frosted Flakes instead of Honey Nut Cheerios?“
Winter’s jaw twitched. "I need …” He chewed his lip. "Access to information, ideally via a computer terminal of some sort…“ He then looked down and mumbled hesitantly, "I know computers and books are for technicians and civilians, not for the Asset, and I need only mission-relevant information, but…”
Sam noticed that Winter had a way of twitching his right shoulder when he’s expecting punishment. "Hey, it’s okay, requests for things are totally fine. We’re not HYDRA, remember? You can totally ask for things. If we can’t give it to you, we’ll just tell you.“
He paused to consider the logistics. "Well, I don’t exactly have a spare laptop, but … the Playstation is hooked up to the internet, so you can use that. Or go to the library if you feel like leaving the house. Are you in desperate need for one? You can always check email and stuff on mine for the next few days...”
Winter nodded hesitantly. "It’s mission critical.“
"Wait, what mission?” Steve spoke up suddenly from behind Sam. Turned out he was listening after all. "I thought you were done with HYDRA.“
Winter’s right shoulder started twitching like crazy. But still he unclipped his backpack from his shoulders and reached in to pull out a thick notebook. "I… I’ve been pursuing my own mission, Captain.” He pushed the notebook across the table, head bowed. Steve walked over and picked it up. Looking over Steve’s shoulder, Sam saw that the first 50 pages or so were the years of the last century, with a few post-it notes here and there, but many of them blank. The back of the notebook, however, was densely stacked with post-it notes, a jumble of yellows, blues, pinks, and greens. Steve read a green one at random, “Boy, age 11, blond, bloody nose.” He arched an eyebrow at Winter.
“I don’t know if this was a mission target, a civilian bystander that I passed in transit, a handler’s family, or someone from… before.” Winter tapped his head. "The longer I remain out of cryo, the more images and sounds run through my brain. But I lack relevant information to understand their significance.“ He licked his lips and gave the book a worried look as Steve started flipping through the pages of sticky notes more slowly.
Sam plucked the notebook from Steve’s hands and pushed it back to Winter. "So you want to figure out when and where all of these memories took place?”
Winter nodded, relieved to have his book back. "I need additional recon to identify how long I’ve been with HYDRA. And…“ A sudden sharpness came into Winter’s eyes. "If I can figure out which ones belonged to HYDRA, then what’s left would be mine. From before.” The way Winter said the word ‘mine’ made Sam want to hug him. This guy has been property and weapon of HYDRA for so long that he constantly expected to be treated as property to be used and abused. And yet he's still fighting to find himself at every chance that he got. Sam looked over to find Steve absorbed in his laptop again. An idea suddenly came to him.
"Well, I got work at the VA today…“ He darted over and pulled Steve into a kiss. "But Steve, maybe *you* can figure out the laptop situation for Winter? How about asking Stark?" Steve frowned at the mention of Stark. "You need to talk to him about *your* project, anyway....”
Steve shot Sam a look of “I’m onto you,” so Sam just gave Steve another quick peck on the lips and bailed. “Have fun, boys!”
* * *
Even though Steve was working in the kitchen and Winter was trying to figure out the web features of the Playstation in the living room, Steve could still feel Winter observing him. Steve had lead the Howling Commandos and the STRIKE team, so he’s not unfamiliar with the deference and distance that came with being in command. But Winter looked at him in a way that he couldn’t quite place. At times it felt like a look of absolute trust and knowledge, as if Winter was tuned to the very depths of Steve’s thoughts. At other times, it’s with the fear and absolute obedience he probably accorded to his HYDRA commanders. And Winter’s eyes. There was something about his gray eyes, the way they reflected the light of the sky, that seemed eerily familiar somehow. But once he zoomed out to take in Winter’s large nose and sunken cheekbones, he looked like a stranger again.
Suffice to say, it made it harder than usual to tackle his self-assigned Zola task. All of the files pre-Pierce were inputted and managed by Zola, and he’d put some sort of file system encryption on it, rendering them unreadable. Steve might have felt better if they were literal letter jumbles, but instead, they were files each with exactly 500 words each. But how each word links to another is completely opaque. One word or phrase may link to another bit further down the page, or in a different file altogether. It’s basically the world’s largest alphabet soup, which has basically put a stall on any sort of thorough investigation of HYDRA files before 1980.
Most of the world has been preoccupied with the data from the last 3 decades, and just that information has been enough to condemn a few senators and several top level members of various agencies, but Steve wanted to find the beginning. Red Skull. Erskine. Zola. To everyone else, they were ancient history, but to Steve, they were all alive just yesterday. At first he thought he had some good leads – doing a global search for names of WWII HYDRA locations and acronyms turned up some sentence snippets and map portions that Steve was able to piece together into half-formed reports. But then he hit a wall. The words are all there, just not in order. And Steve lacked the information to put things in context. He could hear Zola's taunting laughter.
Steve sighed. Sam was right: he needed to talk to Tony, which was something he’d been avoiding for the past few weeks. It’s not that Steve didn’t trust Tony. It’s just that after Project Insight, Steve didn’t trust most people. Steve eyed the Soldier in the other room, metal arm glinting from under his plain flannel shirt. On the other hand, it'll be safer if someone else knew about the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier as well. The guy would probably benefit from a full psych eval and professional help in removing HYDRA conditioning. And of all the people and agencies out there, Tony was the least bad option. Maybe he could even get Tony to take the Soldier off his hands.
He opened the calling program on his laptop and dialed.
“Hey Cap, what’s up?” Tony was in his workshop, fiddling with an arm gauntlet. He looked around the screen. "Why’s your camera so crappy? What happened to the laptop that I gave you?“
"Um…” Steve didn’t feel like explaining how he threw the laptop across the room when JARVIS started talking out of it. He was so tired of being tracked. Observed. Recorded. "I broke it?"
“Nevermind. You got anything else of mine? Like the StarkPhone? Or even that USB of polar exploration videos that I sent you – just plug it in and JARVIS can fix this mess in a jiffy.” Tony loomed into the screen. "Although your transfer rate is abysmal. Still at your pad in DC? I can send someone over to fix…“
"Tony… have you done any work on decoding the early HYDRA/SHIELD files?” Steve did *not* want Tony here, in Sam’s house.
“Sure – who did you think released the word soup version? I had JARVIS on it first thing after your fiasco. Especially since I had some … industry interests to protect in the released files.”
“So… that’s as far as the decoding goes? There’s no way to do more?”
Tony shrugged. "Oh sure, but you’d need access to the original encryption algorithm as well as the key. Brute-forcing it would take forever, even for JARVIS.“
"How long is forever?” Steve's seen Tony call five minutes "forever" before.
“Let’s just say you can probably pop back in the ice for another long nap.”
“But if you had the original encryption algorithm, it'd be faster? Where would that be?”
“As long as there’s still a copy of Zola around, he should have it. The hard part is tracking down Zola – he’s currently not hooked into the internet. JARVIS has been looking.”
Steve snuck a glance at Winter, who seemed to be using Google Streetview to explore a Spanish-speaking country.
“So I’d need to find a HYDRA base that’s actively running Zola’s AI, and then…”
“A quick plug-in to link to JARVIS. Shouldn’t take him more than 20 minutes once he’s hooked up.” Tony looked up from his work. "You’re really into this, aren’t you? Isn’t there enough to dig through in the HYDRA files of the last 35 years? Sudden attachment to the Carter Administration?“
Steve shrugged. "Not exactly.” The real answer was too long and complicated – the way Zola's survival and Bucky's death still felt like his fault. The sick feeling in his stomach when he realized that out of fear and a sense of righteousness during the Cold War, SHIELD missions stopped being different from HYDRA missions. The way he had unfinished business in the past. He searched for a short answer that Tony'd understand. "I want to know how Peggy played into this.“
Tony’s voice softened. "Yeah, this must break Aunt Peg’s heart.” Tony paused for a second and looked into the distance, and Steve was glad he didn’t mention Howard. Then he resumed tinkering on the gauntlet and his voice sounded extra light as he said. "Well, Cap, I’ve got my hands full cleaning house, but if you want to kick down HYDRA bases looking for ugly computers with an old wrinkly guy in it, be my guest." He waggled his eyebrows at the screen. "I’ll set JARVIS to write some standard decrypting programs, and send you a filtered list of known HYDRA bases sorted by likelihood of continued operation. It’ll be missing Zola cross-references from pre-1980 data of course, but it’ll be a place to start. And if you ever manage to find a working Zola console, just plug in some Stark thing and JARVIS can pick it up from there.“
"Thanks, Tony.”
“Sure thing, Capsicle. We’ve all got our ways of dealing.” Tony gestured with his arm and the gauntlet on his table curled its fingers. "Anything else I can help you with? I'm not just a tech support guy, you know. Although I should really send you a new laptop with a functional video camera... or, fancy a trip to New York? We've got the best bagels and the most discreet therapists.“
Steve hesitated. Maybe it’s a bit too early to alert Tony about the Winter Soldier. The guy seemed mostly functional and not liable to kill anyone. And he could be very helpful in locating HYDRA bases, which he wouldn't be able to do as well from a secure facility in New York. Plus, Winter'd probably also want to get at the early HYDRA files anyway – it’d make his memory project a lot easier.
"Nah, I think I’m set for now. Thanks, Tony. Say hi to Pepper for me.”
* * *
Winter couldn't help a shiver as Steve closed his laptop and moved to sit down on the couch. Steve had been talking to someone -- was he being transferred to another facility? He'd just learned the rules of this one. As Steve sat down mere inches from him, another possibility appeared: Maybe Steve would recognize him now. Falcon was out of the house for the first time, and they were alone together. Winter's heart rate increased, and he wanted to lean his shoulder into Steve, but that wasn't what you did with commanders. Instead, he put down his investigation of the top assassinations of the last century and waited for orders.
The answer was neither: Steve wanted Winter to help with locating and infiltrating HYDRA bases with the Zola terminals. Winter did not like Dr. Zola, and his right shoulder twitched. In a notebook that Winter hadn't shown Steve, he had a lot of memories associated with him, most of them involving pain and cold: Dr. Zola was always interested in improving Winter. Winter shuddered again. Things were better with the Secretary, who thought Winter was perfect as long as he performed his missions and thanked the Secretary appropriately.
But Steve wanting to find Zola also felt familiar to him in some way, like it had happened before. And whether Winter liked someone or not didn't matter: HYDRA made him to execute missions, and it made sense that the Captain wanted to use him the same way. After he nodded and confirmed that he knew of several bases in the area that might fit the parameters, Steve thanked him and then mentioned buying him a laptop for his research. The implications were clear: as long as he proved himself useful to Steve, he would be permitted to stay and pursue his own mission. He would have his own room, easily avoidable punishments, and even his own computer terminal. It was a reasonable and fair arrangement, because Steve was a reasonable and fair commander.
When Steve got up to make lunch, he didn't react when Winter's shoulder accidentally touched his.
The emptiness in his stomach was probably hunger.