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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant	By : TheConstant1944 Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Captain America Views: 2391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters. They are solely owned by Marvel and MCU. No money is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 40
- 41
- 42
Chapter Forty-One
The Winter Soldier - Who is he?

His ears are buzzing and he feels like he is waking up from a long sleep. His bones feel cold, but the room around him is warm. At first he thinks he is lying down but as he becomes more aware he feels what he thought was a table, changing and swinging upwards until he is sat in a chair and he can hear a voice counting down to one.
His heart starts to beat faster as new sounds come to him and his metal hand clasps the chair arm tightly. He feels slightly nauseous. His body tenses. He tries to remember where he is and as he listens to the voices he is trying to get his bearings getting ready to open his eyes. He is trying to work out how many people there are, where they are in the room, and if necessary getting ready to take them all down. He knows that his body isn't strong enough but he feels the strength ebbing back into it.
But then he feels someone place their hand over his right one; soft, warm, and somehow comforting.
As he opens his eyes the light burns them and he has to close them again. He is aware of someone sitting on his right, leaning towards him, a woman. He can smell her delicate perfume, feel her hand on his and hear her voice through the buzz in his ears. He feels light-headed, and knows he is not quite ready enough to stand up.
“Just take a few deep breathes. It's all right. You're just coming around from cryo-freeze. Everything will begin to seem normal in a minute or two,” her voice is gentle, caring and steadies his heart and he begins to feel calmer.
There are other voices now, in Russian, calling numbers out: heart rates, body temperature. He knows somehow that those are his readings. He starts to breathe more deeply to calm his heart and he feels her move her hand so that she is holding his, the thumb stroking his palm. As if it is just the two of them alone.
She spoke to him in English.
He opens his eyes and sees her smile. It is one of relief, and although he does not know immediately who she is, he knows she cares and nothing bad will happen to him whilst she is here. This puzzles him. She does not look that strong and he is well able to look after himself.
“He's awake now,” someone calls and he looks around. He is in some sort of lab, machines and dials all over the place, men walking around with clip boards, seemingly busy. Several hover the other side of him.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asks.
He looks back at her: big blue eyes, long lashes, her fringe and bangs framing her face. There is absolutely no danger in her whatsoever.
He nods, not trusting his voice yet; his mouth is too dry. She releases his hand and he sees she has a beaker of water next to her which she hands to him so he can drink.
Can she read his mind?
He is dressed in just combat trousers and boots, his chest bare, but the room is warming him up. He feels vulnerable without full clothing on, as if he is subject to their decisions.
As he listens to what is going on around him it seems to become more familiar and parts of his memories start to flood his mind. He is in an underground research facility...no, not research, something else. It is here for him. The Winter Soldier, and when he remembers that name he remembers who he is.
He is no-one.
She sees it in his eyes and stands up, she is tall for a woman, five foot ten or thereabouts. She turns to talk to one of the doctors and he knows she will have her hair braided at the back in a plait as thick as his wrist, but he doesn’t remember how he knows this. The word sable comes to mind and again he doesn’t know why; her hair is a mixture of flaxen and ash blonds. Another memory comes into his mind, shouldn't she have short blond hair? No he is thinking of someone else, a man, but the memory is too fleeting to catch on to and hold.
The doctor passes her a black tee shirt. Then she turns back to him.
“You can put this on when you're ready to stand up. I need to go now but I'll see you later.” He can see she wants to say more but something is holding her back. She places the tee shirt on his lap. He gets the feeling that if they were alone she would have leant forward and kissed him and it causes a stirring in his groin.
He doesn’t say anything; his mind still trying to fill in the blanks. He watches her leave and then he is alone with the scientists.
Freya. Her name is Freya. She is here for me. Always for me.
They keep him sat there for ten more minutes and he uses this time to get his bearings, study the doctors and look around the room. He knows the Russian language but doesn't follow all that they say because it is of no interest to him.
His ears have stopped buzzing and he no longer feels light-headed, but now he is feeling a slight impatience. He doesn’t want to be here, he has things to do...but he doesn’t know what. His leg starts jigging up and down and when the doctors see him doing that they know it is time to move him; they do not want him losing his temper in here with them. They know what his impatience can be like and they can spot the danger signs with ease.
He stands up and for a moment thinks the world is going to spin but it doesn’t. His face is impassive - his eyes blank. One of the doctors has just opened the door and called out to someone else.
As the Winter Soldier puts on his shirt another man comes in.
For some reason he was expecting a different man. Why? He catches a vague shadow, the man with blond hair, but again he can't catch the thought.
He instinctively knows he must go with this man for the next stage of whatever it is he is going through. It is so ingrained in him that he does not even realise he doesn’t have a choice.
As he moves to the door he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflective glass and looks away. He doesn’t want to see.
When he quits the room he is in a long corridor, and there are two guards with guns. He studies them and sees one go pale but they are of no interest to him so he turns away and follows the other man. The guards follow behind. They do not encounter anyone else. Whenever they move the Winter Soldier after cryo freeze they ensure the corridors remain clear until after he has been programmed.
Their booted feet ring down the long concrete tunnel and he can feel the cold seeping in down here. The lights are yellow and everything seems a little unreal.
No one talks to him.
They reach a set of doors, the man turns and nods to the guards. They take up their posts either side of the door, and the man and the Winter Soldier go in. Once the doors close they are locked; the guards have never been inside. It is rare for people to be invited in and most people would not want to go. This is where they programme the Winter Soldier and there are times when they have heard him scream in agony.
Five hours later when he comes out he cannot remember anything that went on in the room; his mind is blank of those details, and so are his feelings.
He knows his mission. He knows the training he will need to fulfil that mission and that is all that is in his mind.
His ears are buzzing again and when he first leaves the room his co-ordination is slightly out of sync, as if he is drunk. He hits the wall and stops for a moment whilst the dizziness abates; he can feel the cold stone against his hot body and for a moment he closes his eyes against the lights. The guards know to expect this and give him time before delivering him to his next port of call. By the time they get him to the lift he is walking properly but they do notice one of his eyes is bloodshot and there is a trickle of blood from his ear. They do nothing about it; that will be his Constant's job.
He watches the door as they go up in the lift. His head is hurting badly, his body feels as if it needs sugar, and very soon he will get that shaky feeling as though he has gone without food for too long. He also needs water.
The lift stops and they exit into another corridor, but this is not underground and he can smell fresh air and the light is different. They march him along a corridor and he knows where he is going: his quarters.
One of the guards knocks on the door and it is opened by the woman from earlier and she opens it wider so he can enter, she nods at the guards and they take up their posts outside the rooms. The rooms are only guarded for the next six hours, by then they will know if the programming has held, if the Winter Soldier is ready for the next phase.
He looks around. The place is familiar.
It is a large carpeted room, on his right is a table with documents and a typewriter on it, chairs; this is obviously where she was seated before he arrived. A cupboard against the wall with a long mirror attached to the side of it. The corner of the room and then next a single bed made up, a small cabinet and lamp next to it, leading to an open door which he can see leads to a paved area outside. After the doorway a small kitchenette area with a table. On it he can see hot soup and bread and she has gone to fetch a drink of water for him.
On his left is a double bed with two bedside cabinets and lamps, then a couple of easy chairs, and a closed door leading off to a bathroom and toilet area. Against the wall with the main door he is standing next to, appears to be a wardrobe.
In three places around the room are what appear to be alarm buttons, and a clock is sat up over the table in the kitchen. On his bedside cabinet is an alarm clock and a telephone, there is the same on her cabinet next to the single bed.
He looks back and finds she is standing next to him, not in his personal space but close enough that she can see he is tired. She knows the signs. He starts to lean to his left very slightly as if his metal arm is too heavy for him. She is worried about his bloodshot eye and bleeding ear but she knows she has to tread carefully; he doesn’t know exactly who she is. His programming has told him she is his chattel. He can no longer remember her name but that is of no consequence, they called her his Constant. She is there to provide anything he needs whether it is clothes, food, or sex, or anything.
“Come and have something to eat and some pain killers and then you can sleep,” she says, her voice low and non-threatening.
He walks forward to the kitchen area and sits at the table. He can smell the aroma of the soup and bread and it makes his stomach clench in hunger but he picks up the glass of water first and drains it. She refills it from a jug and hands him some tablets. He takes them and washes them down with more water. His belly is grumbling; it wants the food. As he sits and eats she doesn’t know whether to stay and try and get him to eat slower or leave him in peace.
She lays a hand on his and he looks up at her.
“Try not to eat too fast. You haven’t eaten in a while and you don’t want to bring it all back up.” She finds if she gives him a reason for doing something he is much more likely to listen to her.
He looks back at the soup and slows down. The bread is almost gone and she knows she cannot give him any more, not until later when his digestive system has caught up.
When he has finished he sits back and feels exhausted but this is normal, it is a combination of coming out of cryo freeze and programming.
His training for the mission will begin tomorrow but for the rest of the day he will sleep and rest. He feels her near him and turns slightly to look at her, his eyes blank, and he sees her hesitate slightly. She has a cloth in her hand.
“You're bleeding. I just need to clean you up a bit.” She tries to smile and he wonders why she looks upset at the thought of him bleeding; after all, she is just a whore they have recruited for him. He doesn't know that she is worried; his headache seems worse than it should.
He says nothing so she leans forward and wipes the blood away from his ear and neck. He doesn’t thank her, just gets up and starts to pull his tee shirt over his head. He is so tired, his muscles ache, and he needs to sleep. He walks to the double bed, knowing that it is his. He drops the tee shirt on the floor and unzips his trousers, kicking his boots off at the same time. Then just wearing his shorts he lifts the blankets and sheets and climbs in. He hears her closing the outside door and pulling the curtains so the room is darker. Then she comes up and puts another glass of water on the bedside table for when he wakes. He closes his eyes, the room is quiet, he can hear her moving around. She has gone back to the table and will be writing reports.
He wonders why a whore would be doing paperwork.
Within minutes he is asleep.
When he awakens it takes a couple of moments to remember where he is. His bladder has woken him, he needs the toilet. The room is darker now as evening is approaching and there is no light coming in through the curtains. There is a small lamp on over the other side of the room and light coming under the door from the corridor. It is never totally dark here.
He listens to see if he can hear the woman, but he can't. He reaches over and puts the lamp on, then swings around to get out of bed. He has to take a few moments as dizziness fights his headache for dominance. He hates cryo freeze for the way it messes him up for the first few days, and he doesn’t remember that he didn't know that before.
Before he walks to the bathroom door he looks around to see if he is alone and then he sees her. She is lying on top of the single bed, dressed in jeans and a blouse, a book ready to fall to the ground. She is sleeping. He doesn’t yet realise she is suffering from the same effects he is; they only woke her a day before him and she doesn’t have his stamina or anywhere near the amount of Zola's serum he has in his body.
He knows her. But how does he know her if she is someone they have just got in for him? Perhaps they always use her. She is not pertinent to his mission and so his attention is pulled away by the need to use the bathroom, he goes in, closes the door and puts the light on.
He sees another alarm button in the bathroom. He uses the facilities. There is blood in his urine and a stinging sensation which makes him tetchy. Now he is up he is aware of the pains in his body, the ache of his limbs and bones as if they are under a great pressure, and he is cold again. His head is hurting, almost pulsing and his left arm feels heavy; maybe it needs recalibrating, he thinks.
He tries to reach for the door but his hand misses the knob. He tries again, his co-ordination is out of sync. He rests his hand against the door frame and his forehead against the coolness of the wood until he feels he has caught up with himself. This time he opens the door and walks into the other room.
She is no longer on her bed but moving around the kitchenette. She hasn't turned on the main light, just the lamps around the room.
He goes over to where she is. He can see by the clock he has been asleep for seven hours. She looks up at him and smiles.
“They are just bringing a more substantial meal if you're up to eating it.” Then she looks back down. She is making them hot drinks, and without answering her he almost falls into the seat at the table and rests his head on his hands. It feels so heavy.
She walks over and puts the drinks on the table. It is tea, herbal, they do not like him to have stimulants.
“Some more pain killers for your head,” she places two tablets next to the drink and he takes them without question.
He feels her hesitation again and he knows she is wary of him. He wants to tell her to leave him alone; he is feeling even more cranky and unsociable but she knows this.
She knows exactly what to expect.
She steps in closer to him and he then feels her hands on his back and he tenses but before he can turn and shrug her off she starts to massage his neck and he realises that it is helping. She has done this before. She works around his neck, his shoulders, around the metal plating on his left shoulder and then down the sides of his spine. By the time she has finished he is feeling less stiff and he moves to sit up straighter, the pain killers are kicking in as well.
“Are you warm enough?” she asks and he realises he is.
Before he can think of answering there is a knock on the door.
“Ah, supper,” she moves over to the door and opens it, talks to someone on the other side and then comes back with a tray which she puts on the table. She goes back, talks to the person on the other side of the door further and then closes the door and joins him again.
He can smell the food now, and his stomach growls again.
“I'm sorry about this but your next lot of cryo tablets,” she puts some down in front of him with a glass of water, and then sits down to his right and takes some herself. For a second he wonders why she is taking them but then his attention is pulled away to the food.
“I think it is some kind of macaroni cheese,” she says, looking at the plates and sniffing the food. It is a yellow mass of pasta, sauce, and vegetables. Their diet for the time they are out of cryo freeze is carefully planned and contains everything they need: it is not always pleasant but it sustains them and that is what is important.
The Winter Soldier does not care. He is hungry and his mouth is watering and he eats fast again. She pulls her plate towards her and starts eating.
She hasn't finished and she is aware that he is watching her, watching every mouthful she eats. She knows he is still hungry and without saying anything pushes some of her portion on to his plate, he hesitates for a moment and then almost pounces on it. He is always more hungry than she is; it's his body's metabolism. She has started to feel the heat come from him, Zola's serum kicking in and mending any damage done by the cryo freeze and programming processes.
She stands and puts the empty dishes on the side and passes him a bowl full of cut up fruit. She has one too.
“Dessert. Might be something nicer tomorrow, who knows.” It's a small joke and he doesn’t react, but she wasn’t expecting him to.
He eats everything and she offers him some of hers; this time he just shakes his head, he feels full and the tablets are making him feel tired. He had intended to take a shower but now he just wants to climb back into bed and oblivion.
Without saying anything to her he leaves the table and goes back to his bed. He pushes the covers back and sitting on the side he pauses for a moment and rubs his hands through his hair.
“Are you all right?” she asks. She doesn’t come too close and it will be a while before she does. He looks up and his eyes are blank but tired.
“It's normal to feel so tired,” she says concern in her eyes.
He looks around the room, taking everything in as if he is assessing it, then he looks back at her. His left arm is aching; it is metal but he still feels pain right down to the fingers and without knowing it he is rubbing it with his right hand. His ears are buzzing again and down in his groin he is getting that burning stinging sensation. His eyesight is getting blurry and he feels sick. He can feel the food he has just eaten in his stomach. His mind feels like it is under water, he can't think straight. Who is she, again? Where is he? He feels a tremendous sense of being alone without anyone being there for him as if there should be someone here with him, someone important to him.
She comes a few steps closer and kneels down.
“This is normal, when we come out of cryo freeze our bodies take a while to adjust. Your eyes will water and you will feel like your head is going to explode. The tablets they gave us are to help our body adjust, antibiotics and such like,” she tries to smile but he can still see the concern in her eyes. “You need to sleep thats all but if you wake up and you feel sick or in pain just call me, I'm only over there.”
She doesn’t think he is going to speak and she gets up to move away.
“Who are you?” he asks quietly. She turns around to face him again. “Why do I think I know you?”
There is a sadness in her eyes. He can see she is thinking of what to reply.
“Don't lie to me,” he warns.
“I never lie to you. You do know me but you just don’t remember yet. You will, though. Now get some sleep before you fall down.”
She walks back over to him and as he swings around to get into the bed she lifts the blankets and sheets up. He is so tired now that he doesn’t have the strength to argue and is asleep before she reaches over and switches the lamp off.
The next morning he feels a lot better. He knows where he is, knows what he needs to do and after showering she shows him his timetable. He doesn't want to go near her; they told him she is there for anything he needs and when he sees her, he finds he can't help but wonder what her body would feel like under him if he fucked her. He has training and then tomorrow he can leave for his mission. He doesn't want to think like that, the last thing he needs is a hard on and so he doesn't talk to her, doesn't answer any of her questions. When she asks if he knows where he is going he looks at her and grunts.
Just before he leaves, without thinking she puts her hand on his arm and he reacts as if she has burnt him, shrugging her off, hostile.
“How is your head this morning?” she asks.
“Don't touch me,” he growls, watching as she steps back.
“I'm sorry,” she says.
He leaves her standing alone.
Something is wrong and he doesn't know what. Just an inkling, just a thought. During the day they push him hard and he is used to that: he is a soldier, it is his duty...but every so often he catches himself thinking about things he shouldn't. He has no name, he is no one - but everyone has a name, who is he...no, he mustn't think that.
Who am I?
He pushes the thought out of his mind.
Parts of his mission that should be there clear in his mind are fuzzy. Towards the end of the day other parts of the mission are no longer there and he knows he should report it to them. He could swear that he knew what gun he is to use, what calibre, but now he looks at the range of guns and isn't sure which one to take.
“Barnes! Get your arse in gear now!” he hears someone shout and he swings around.
No one is looking at him, no one seems to have said anything directed at him. His ears are buzzing and so he puts it down to mishearing. As he turns back he catches a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eyes but when he goes to look again there is no one there.
“I'm tired,” he murmurs. “That's all it is, no need to report it.”
Just by thinking this, he is going against his programming.
He returns to his quarters earlier than he should, and they allow him because they can see the pain in his eyes, they know he suffers from migraines and if they push too hard it will get worse. They send him back, tell him to rest. They need him ready for tomorrow.
When he arrives he finds the woman is curled up on her bed asleep. He wants to stay as far away from her as possible. He shucks of his clothes and gets into the shower, letting the warm water relax his sore muscles. Another period of sleep and the effects of the cryo freeze will have worn off, his mind will be more focused, and he will be ready to send out.
That is what normally happens.
After the shower he stands drying his hair in the bathroom with a towel, and then combs it back but as he does he catches a glimpse of something in the mirror and it pulls his attention towards it. The face in the mirror with the hair slicked back reminds him of someone; he knows the face it is familiar, it is him... but it can't be, he is no one.
He looks closer and sees a flash of someone else standing next to him, he looks to his side but there is no one there. He looks back at the mirror. His head is beginning to hurt, he gets the flash again but doesn’t turn. Instead he concentrates on the picture in the mirror and he sees a young blond boy...no, wait, he is much older, a young man, with the physique of a boy.
The more he tries to concentrates the worse his head becomes until his nose begins to trickle blood but he wants to know who the young man is, he needs to know, he feels it is important.
He has bled like this before. A flash goes through his mind of him standing in a gym, but not the one here at the camp.
He is stood in a boxing ring, gloves on. In front of him is the small blond-haired man.
“Aw, Buck, sorry,” he hears the young man say and without realising it he murmurs his response.
“Don't apologise! It's good you finally managed to hit something!”
The man has bloodied his nose. He has been teaching him how to box and he feels a sense of achievement even though his nose hurts like fuck. The young man shuffles about as if embarrassed.
“Who are you?” he whispers, and as he does the young man fades and so does the memory and he is alone in the bathroom. His head still hurts but the nose bleed has stopped. He cleans himself up and with a last look in the mirror he leaves the bathroom.
He needs to know who the man is. He feels there is a sense of importance there.
Would she know?
She is still asleep on her bed and he stands there looking down at her. Who is she? He feels that there is another memory just teetering on the edge but the ache in his head is keeping him from remembering.
As he goes to turn away he sees she is holding something to her; it is one of his tee shirts.
Why would she be doing that if he doesn't mean anything to her?
Suddenly out of nowhere another memory surfaces.
He is kneeling on a tiled floor, crying. She is with him, holding him and trying to talk to him; he is heartbroken. He is trying to hold her properly but he can't: he has no left arm, just a stub. For a moment it makes another memory flash into his mind, something so horrible he doesn’t want to hold on to it so he returns to the memory he already has.
But why? Why are they there? Why is he crying? Why does he feel so bad? He has lost something...no, someone. The pain in his chest feels like a dagger is screwing into his heart, he feels sick.
She has a large bruise coming up on her cheek and he knows he put it there. She is dressed in a khaki dress, a uniform, a nurse's uniform.
She keeps telling him she is sorry.
He keeps staring at her, willing the memories to return as he chases them in his mind, trying to ignore the headache which is getting worse again and then he remembers a name.
“Steve.” He doesn’t realise it but he has said it out loud. He has to know, he has to find out so he bends down and shakes her awake.
“Steve. Who is Steve?” he growls as she wakens, her eyes opening wide in alarm when she hears his question, sees him standing over her.
“Who is Steve?” his voice is louder this time, impatient.
“Was that your Steve?” He hears the echo of her question in his mind. That is what she asked him, then he hears her next words, “I'm so sorry. I didn't know he had died, I'm so sorry.” A terrible ache hits him.
“Tell me...” His hand is on her shoulder, pulling her up, squeezing so hard that he is bruising her flesh.
The alarm and fear showing on her face stops him in his tracks. She shakes her head no.
“Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth. His head now is pulsating with the pain and his nose begins to bleed again. She moves to get out of bed, to stop the blood, to help him - but he wants to know the answer to his question.
“Steve is the blond man I keep seeing, isn't he. Who is he?”
But then a bolt of pain hits him as a solid memory surfaces and it is so bad he releases her, staggers backwards, and then falls to his knees clutching his head.
He is stood high on a mountain with a group of other men. The blond man is there but somehow different, taller, bigger in build. He is standing next to the Winter Soldier. No. He isn't the Winter Soldier: he is someone else, he has a name.
It is cold and the snow is light but making his hands freeze. He shivers.
They are looking down a long steep zip line and he is talking to Steve.
“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”
“Yeah, and I threw up?”
“This isn't payback, is it?”
And Steve looks at him, grinning.
“Now why would I do that?”
The woman is trying to talk to him, trying to get him to lower his hands from his head, but the pain is immense. Even so he wants to hear Steve say his name. He wants to know who he is.
And then he is somewhere else, looking up at a huge fairground ride, so tall, the framework curving up and down, the word Cyclone on the side in huge lettering and Steve is beside him but back to his former smaller self.
“Buck I really don't think this is a good idea...”
“Aw come on Steve, my treat, not chicken are ya?” He is pulling Steve over to the booth so he can buy them both tickets.
The noise in the fun park is tremendous, people screaming but enjoying themselves on the rides. He can smell sea air, and the sun is bright. Then he is pulling a metal bar to keep them in the seat and Steve is having trouble, he already looks green, and for the first time Bucky thinks he may have pushed him a bit too far.
“Hey,” he says, “we can get off if you want.”
“Nah. Can't have you think I'm chicken but if I'm sick it's you who'll suffer. Hope that's not a new shirt Buck otherwise your Mom is going to be furious,” and that really wipes the smile off Bucky's face.
Bucky.
“My name is Bucky,” the Winter Soldier murmurs to himself and doesn't see the panic on the woman's face. Doesn't hear what she is saying to him.
He is locked in the past.
*
You stare at the Winter Soldier in horror.
What do you do? If you hit the button and call the doctors they will wipe him. You know he would not want that: these are James's memories, you do not want them to take them away from him. What has happened? Has his programming broken down? Did it not take properly? As your mind fights with what to do he lies there and you can see the pain in his eyes, hear him murmuring and then he says his name is Bucky and your heart drops.
“James,” you say very quietly but he can't hear you.
After all this time. But what do you do?
His body is taken by another bout of pain and his whole face contorts as his mind struggles with memories all trying to surface at once. Then the decision is taken out of your hands as his eyes disappear into the back of his head, his hands clench and he falls backwards, his body beginning to fit.
You jump up and hit the alarm which immediately begins blaring out, then you are back down next to him. His teeth are clenched and he is foaming at the mouth, his whole body is convulsing, he is grunting and his eyes are now closed but you can see rapid eye movement under the lids.
The door flies open and two guards come in. One kneels down beside you.
“Doctors are on their way,” he says.
“Pass me a pillow,” you say and after a moment's hesitation he passes his gun to the other guard and does as you say.
But the fit is over in seconds. The Winter Soldier's body has started to loosen, the convulsions have started to cease, his breathing starts to calm.
“Can you help me turn him over onto this side?” And that is what you are doing when Jakobs and Taffeteer arrive.
You give a brief synopsis of what happened, but you do not tell them about what he said.
“His headaches have seemed worse this time out of cryo.” Luckily enough, you had already reported this to them that morning.
Whilst Jakobs is taking his pulse and counting, you tell Taffeteer how long the fit lasted for. He pulls back the Winter Soldiers eyelids, his eyes are bloodshot but not moving now.
“What about this nose bleed?” he asks and you tell him it started after he had complained about the severe pain in his head.
You all start when you feel the Winter Soldier move of his own volition. His eyes open. He groans and tries to sit up.
*
“Hang on there a minute,” he hears the doctor say and he allows himself to be pushed gently back down onto the ground.
He has no idea of why he is on the floor or how he got there.
The doctor shines a light in his eyes and he wants to tell him to fuck off but he knows he can't. He must always do what the doctors tell him to do. He sees the woman to the left of him. She looks frightened, her eyes wide, totally focused on him.
He turns back to the doctor. “What happened?” he asks groggily.
“We were hoping you could tell us,” the doctor says. “What do you remember happening?”
Nothing - he doesn't remember anything.
The Winter Soldier tries to think for a moment.
“I was in the bathroom, I'd had a shower and then...” then nothing, there is no memory there at all until he woke up on the floor with everyone around him.
He puts a hand up to his face and wipes away the blood and then looks at his hand.
“Come on, let's get you up and have a proper look at you. Freya, can you help?” Taffeteer says.
The woman places her hand under his left arm and the doctor under his right and he wants to tell them he doesn't need their help to stand but as they get him up and sit him on the edge of the bed he realises he does. The room spins and he feels a little nauseous.
“How's your head?” she asks and he looks up at her and sees the concern in her eyes.
He nods. “Okay,” and she smiles but deep in her eyes he can see fear.
Why?
They run a physical examination and he seems all right. They can delay the mission for one more day and so the next day they run tests and test his programming. They cannot find any problems and Caldwell decides to send him out.
The mission goes well. No problems.
*
Caldwell stares at the report in his hand. Does he take action or does he let it go for now? He rereads the transcript from the recording from the Winter Soldier's room. He has always been against placing a camera in there but the room has always been wired. When asked what had happened she made no mention of the Winter Soldier asking her who the blond haired man was, who Steve is, and they think they can hear her calling him James.
He sits there, debating the pro's and con's. Do they let her know that they know what she hid from them? But that would tip her off to the fact they know everything that goes on in the Winter Soldier's quarters. The most important question of course is, would she have told the Winter Soldier what he asked?
So many questions. They had become complacent with Freya Bowman and the Winter Soldier, believed both of them were fully under their control. Things would need to be tightened, they would both need to be watched specially to ensure that this type of thing didn't happen again.
Meanwhile, a new in depth programming needs to be created. He will authorise a deeper wipe from now on, technology has moved on from the old days, more can be done.
For now he files the report away.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant