Team Up
You made it your habit to check in on your supposed cousin every day after work. You also saw Sam again a few times, and you even chatted a bit over some coffee. You liked Sam, you decided. He was witty and charming in an unassuming way and practically exuded trustworthiness. If the two of you became friends than at least something worthwhile would have come out of this whole bizarre situation.
Mystery man’s condition remained stable, and the kindly doctor said that he was doing extremely well considering the gravity of his injuries, yet he showed no signs of waking, even though they’d already pulled the tube from his throat and moved him from the ICU.
It had been four days now. You were solving a crossword puzzle, or trying to, when you heard a low groan. You stepped to his bedside hesitantly, not sure what to expect. He stirred uneasily for a few minutes before finally opening his eyes. His gaze fell on you instantly, and you weren’t at all prepared for its blue intensity.
“Hey Sleeping Beauty, welcome back to the land of the living.” You quipped, attempting to conceal your nerves. There was a moment of silence before he reacted.
“You…” he ground out hoarsely, looking puzzled for a moment, like he was trying to grasp how he knew you.
“Me.” You affirmed unhelpfully.
“Pan…” he mused uncertainly, sifting through his memory, which was no doubt aggravatingly difficult at the moment due to the amount of painkillers in his bloodstream.
“Yeah …well actually my name is ________.”
He just stared at you in silence.
“This is usually the point when you tell me your name.” you offered awkwardly. His face went blank at that. Other than that, there was no response.
“Okay, let’s take it step by tiny step then.” You tried to keep the exasperation from your voice, but you weren’t entirely successful.
“Why are you here?” he demanded gruffly, wincing as a slight movement tugged at his battered body in obviously painful ways.
“I didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up.” You admitted, suddenly inexplicably embarrassed. Your statement visibly confused him. You could virtually see the wheels turning and churning in his head, refusing to click into place. Well, this way at least you were both utterly befuddled and out of your depths here.
“I should …probably tell the doctor you’ve woken up.” You mumbled hastily and all but ran out of the room.
The Winter Soldier’s eyes followed your hastily retreating form as he tried to somehow pierce through the haziness in his mind and make sense of his situation. It was difficult; his thoughts were at once racing and sluggish, images and sounds whirling through his skull fleetingly while he grasped for them, unable to make meaningful connections between them. He thought he remembered you taking down one of the HYDRA agents who had pursued him, but the image was blurry. He could tell he was injured from how he felt like he’d been run over by a tank, and he could also tell that he was being cared for here. Nevertheless a feeling of unease persisted, making him wary.
He startled slightly when you suddenly poked your head back in a few moments later.
“On second thought, maybe we should get our cover story straight beforehand, if you’re up to it, that is.”
The Winter Soldier gave you a quizzical look, but nodded faintly. You slipped in and resumed your seat, dragging it a bit closer to his bed so that anyone coming in wouldn’t immediately hear what you were saying. You laid out the basics of the story you had concocted a few days prior, naming the important details to make your lies believable. He followed you with concentration.
“Okay, that’s all I think. In case of doubt, just follow my lead.”
“You have done this before.” He spoke lowly, his expression one of vague distrust. He didn’t know who you were after all, and though you didn’t seem like HYDRA and were helping him a healthy dose of suspicion didn’t seem to be out of place at this point.
You blushed a little, suddenly embarrassed. “Um yeah, I have this friend, who I hope isn’t currently spending quality time in Guantanamo Bay or something like that. She has this knack for getting into trouble, always has, and I guess I just kinda developed a knack for fibbing in response.”
Silence. This was getting slightly aggravating, you found.
“Well anyway, I’m gonna get the doctor now.”
The only thing more remarkable than ‘Cousin Will’s’ survival was the speed at which he recovered, the good doctor stated after checking in. She stared down at her clipboard with mild disdain before fixing you both in a suspicious gaze. You straightened your back and put on your most charming, most placating smile.
“We’re incredibly fast healers in our family, always have been, isn’t that right Will?” He nodded dutifully.
“Like that one time when we were kids, remember? Molly fell out of the tree house and twisted her leg…”
“Who is Molly?” the doctor interrupted. You froze. You had been making this up as you went, which is not the best way to go about these things, but normally people didn’t bother interrupting. She wasn’t supposed to interrupt you. Who does that? How rude and inopportune.
“My younger sister.” The Winter Soldier stated matter-of-factly, taking up your unwitting cue without missing a beat. “And she sprained her ankle, ______.”
“Same difference, Will. Anyway, she sprained her ankle, but it was all peachy again by the time she had her dance recital just the weekend after.” You resisted the urge to do something that might betray your story, any little reaction now could bring the whole thing crashing down. “As I said, we’re absurdly fast healers.”
The doctor narrowed her eyes at you, but eventually decided that she didn’t get paid enough to tackle this particular enigma, not with a full ward and a city still in uproar over the events surrounding SHIELD. She informed you that they could release him the day after next and whisked you away to deal with the paperwork, leaving ‘Cousin Will’ in the nurse’s capable hands.
You still came by every day, or the two more days your mystery man would remain in hospital. There was no use in denying it: you felt responsible for him now; you were invested. Too much so to just let go. Taking in enigmatic men who came tumbling in through your window probably didn’t rank too high on that list of life-prolonging behaviors either, especially the kind that could apparently take apart trained and armed killers with their bare hands, but then again this wasn’t the first questionable decision you’d made in your life and you had survived this far. Besides, you sensed a riddle to be unraveled here, and you’d be damned if you’d just let him walk away with all his secrets. You felt he owed you an explanation.
“So, what do I call you?” you attempted to coax his name from him, hoping the rest would somehow follow. Nothing. You sighed, his unresponsiveness seriously irritating you. “I mean, just give me a name, okay? Technically it wouldn’t even have to be your real name; I’d never know anyway, I just feel I deserve that, at least, though I would of course appreciate not being lied to.”
Your aggravated tone caught him off guard – which was strange as he hadn’t been anything if not guarded since regaining consciousness – and you saw a flash of fear glitter in his eyes for the fraction of a second. It was gone again before you could be sure and in any case you were in no mood to indulge it.
“Well?”
“I… I don’t know.” You stopped dead in your tracks, feeling your previous annoyance dissipate into thin air.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t remember. I have no name. I don’t know.” You saw the ghost of a thought rush over those haunted eyes, a shadow of something huge and terrifying that could not be shared, and you felt a strange tightness in your chest at it. So he was an amnesiac. That explained a few things, you supposed, though at the same time it posed a whole lot of new questions. Like how does an obviously trained fighter get amnesia that thorough? The doctors hadn’t paid more than the minimal due attention to his head since there had been no apparent injuries.
“But is there no one looking for you?” you asked, incredulous, “I mean no one but the trigger-happy gunslingers from the other night.”
He gave a choked sound, which may or may not have been supposed to be a bitter laugh. “They’re the ones who did this to me, or they work for those who did, anyway.” His voice was thick with unspoken words; you could make out the smallest quavering.
“Who are they?” You heard yourself ask. Why did you ask? You should not have asked. Then again you shouldn’t have taken him under your wings in the first place perhaps. Why did you have to be such a soft-hearted mother hen?
“Have you ever heard of HYDRA?” he spoke grimly, both hands curled into fists. Of course you had. With a friend like Skye and the current situation, how could you not. Slowly the extent of what you had gotten yourself into began to dawn on you.
“Oh boy…”