AN: An experiment in trying to think like the Winter Soldier that grew into something.
Directive One: CONDITION ASSESSMENT
Blunt trauma to head, undetermined damage. Crushing injury to neck and trachea. Airway currently uncompromised. Right shoulder dislocated, possible fracture. Extensive blunt trauma to midsection, possible internal injuries. Immediate blood loss within functional (sub-optimal) parameters. Crushing injury to upper legs, undetermined damage. Mobility approximately 35% of capacity. Defensive capability unknown. Prosthetic arm functional.
Directive Two: EVADE CAPTURE
In progress.
He staggered several yards to a line of woody brush and crouched to conceal himself. The bones ground in his injured shoulder when he moved, but he chose to ignore it for now. HYDRA would do so much worse than break his arm when they found him. He'd jumped into the river and rescued his target. They would demand to know why he hadn't fulfilled his mission by simply allowing the target to drown? Why didn't he call for immediate extraction?
I knew him. It was the only fragment of an answer that he had, no matter how insufficient it was.
Directive Three: REPORT TO ALTERNATE RENDEZVOUS POINT
Unable to comply.
The activation of the third directive seized the breath from his chest. Every fiber in his body strained to resist a sudden, overwhelming compulsion to proceed to the appointed secondary rendezvous point and surrender. He reached for the man in the white coat who was burning his shoulder with a tool that shot sparks, and he was bleeding, but there were straps and he was so unbearably cold. He'd failed his mission and had disobeyed HYDRA, was still disobeying, even though the punishment made him claw at the ground and bite his lip to maintain silence.
I knew him. He'd felt so…sick…after he'd watched Kaptain Amerika fall into the river.At first he'd jumped after him to ensure the mission was complete. But when his hand, his real hand, contacted the target's uniform, something deeply buried stirred inside him, and he could no more let Kaptain Amerika drown than he could allow himself to drown.
Directive One: CONDITION ASSESSMENT
Reevaluation. Mobility approximately 18% of capacity. Defensive capability unknown.
Better concealment was a priority. He was still too close to the river, close enough to see the flames and columns of oily black smoke that billowed from the destroyed helicarrier. Rescue personnel would surely be arriving soon, but he risked a single long look at where Kaptain Amerika still lay helpless, heaving water from his lungs. Who is he? he asked himself, crushing the unexpected urge to break cover and roll Kaptain Amerika over onto his side. Who is he? Who is he?
Approaching sirens left him no more time to think. He climbed to his feet with difficulty, and broke into an unsteady run.
Directive Two: EVADE CAPTURE
In progress.
Without the imposed timetable of a mission, he wasn't certain how many hours had passed since he'd fled the riverbank, but the shadows were beginning to lengthen. He'd managed to avoid detection so far by using basic observation/movement drill methods. There was an alley ahead. He didn't think it was secure, but his physical condition was deteriorating. He hoped the coming darkness would provide enough cover for him to…
Directive Three: REPORT TO ALTERNATE RENDEZVOUS POINT
Unable to comply.
He plunged into the alley, lurched against the concrete side of the building, and allowed it to guide his body to the ground. Disobedience hurt, it hurt so bad. There were needles and long, thin knives glittering in the light, and the smell of electricity right before the shock. He clenched his jaw and began to rock back and forth, rhythmically striking his head on the concrete. I knew him I knew him I knew him
Steve.
He blinked hard. Steve? The name was like the dawn, but who was Steve? He focused on Kaptain Amerika…no, Captain America…the English letters settled over the Russian ones, fitting into place without gaps, as if they belonged there. Assumptions were often dangerous, but he could not separate Steve and Captain America in his mind. It seemed probable that they were the same person, but he still didn't understand why he should know either name.
But I knew him.
He took a shuddering breath as the compulsion faded and the pain subsided. He tried to raise his hand to his face to wipe moisture…sweat? tears?...from his eye, but found that he could only move his right arm a few inches.
Directive One: CONDITION ASSESSMENT
Reevaluation. Mobility unknown. Defensive capability unknown. Airway uncompromised. Head, abdominal and leg injuries still evident but moderate. Right shoulder immobile, immediate attention required.
He held his right elbow securely in his metal left hand, and tried to roll his shoulder forward. It moved a little, but not enough, even after several tries. He balled the metal hand into a fist, and placed it against his ribs, close to his armpit. Pressing his elbow into the wall and leaning against it, he leveraged the bone outward. He felt it overstretch the injured muscles. Something crunched, and he shifted his weight a little more to one side. There was a wet click and a rush of relief as the bone finally slipped into its socket. He tested it carefully, and seemed to have acceptable motion. It would be better to keep it still for a while, if circumstances permitted.
Directive Two: EVADE CAPTURE
The alley was not the safest place to hide, but it was the best he'd seen so far. It was probable that he could still outmaneuver civilians, but he had some doubts about how fast he could move in his current condition if he attracted pursuit from HYDRA. Or from SHIELD. After his role in the assassination of the SHIELD director, he was certain that the agency was concentrating on him too, or would be soon.
Neither of them would have him. At least, not until he figured out who Steve was, and why thoughts of that man eased the tense nothingness of his memories before the mission.
He chose a position behind two trash cans that partially blocked direct line-of-sight from outside the alley, but gave him vantage from between them. He placed his back against the wall and pulled his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He rested his nose against his crossed forearms to obscure as much of his face as possible from moonlight, and sat motionless, watching the gathering shadows.