Steve woke up to a pretty, red-haired woman sitting by him.

"Hello, Ma'am." He said, nervously, his voice cracking from his earlier crying.

"Hello, Steve." the woman said, smiling. "I'm Natasha."

"It's nice to meet you." He said, trying to smile. Allen was talking again, calling him names and yelling. He hated when Allen yelled. Natasha could tell something was wrong.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. It was then that she caught sight of the exposed arm. It was covered with large, purple splotches. She was almost sure that it was from the building, but the other part of that theory was disproven when there were no other bruises on his face or neck. This was something deeper.

"I'm okay." He said. He wished he could say he was good, or even great, but he couldn't stop listening to Allen. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and there was a distant look in his eyes. Natasha looked at him, concermed.

"Steve?" suddenly the boy began to hit violently. She started to restrain him, but he landed a few good punches and kicks. She knew something was wrong- Horribly wrong- but she didn't know what to do. After about ten minutes he stopped flailing. His eyes returned to normal, and he looked around, confused.

"Miss Natasha? What happened?" He asked.

"You don't remember?" She asked, letting him go.

He shook his head no. "Why? Should I?"

Natasha froze for a split second before saying, "Of course not. You just fell asleep."

Steve frowned, "But I don't feel tired."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Steve slowly shook his head no.

"I guess not." Natasha stood up.

"I'll be back in a little while." She said, smiling.

"Goodbye!" He called, waving.

While Natasha showed the rest of the team the video tape of what had just happened, Steve looked at the plate of food that had been left to him. It was chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. But Steve didn't dare touch it. He saw the Green Beans leaking sludge, the potatoes were bubbling, and the corn was moving. Moving.

Tony looked at the footage with interest, as did Bruce and Hawkeye. Thor had gone back to Asguard to consult with his father, and was only going to be away for the day. Bruce looked at it from a psychological standpoint.

"He disassociated himself from the act." Bruce commented.

"He didn't know what he was doing?" Hawkeye inquired.

"Not at all. Just look at his reaction- he had no idea what he just did."

"Maybe he just got angry. You know something about that, don't you big guy?" Tony said, nudging Bruce in the ribs. Bruce rolled his eyes. He switched the cameras to show him what they saw now, and saw Steve curled into a ball with hands covering his ears, seemingly mumbling to someone. Bruce frowned.

"What is he doing?" Asked Hawkeye.

"I don't know." Said Bruce. "But I'm going to find out.

Steve lay on the bed, hands clamped tightly over his ears. Allen was screaming again, and saying horrible, nasty things.

You're being watched. They're trying to poison you. They're all out to get you. They already took your Momma. Why else isn't she here right now. Not unless Daddy got to her first. You weren't there to help her. You should kill yourself you rude, disrespectful child. Go on and do it. Do it. DO IT!

He couldn't take it anymore and he started to cry.

"Stop. Please." He pleaded, but Allen kept screaming.

"Make it stop!" He begged, hoping God would help alieviate his distress.

He wept quietly. He just wanted his Momma.

It was then that Doctor Banner came in, along with Tony. Steve didn't hear them.

"Steve? What's wrong?" He asked, maneuvering himself over to the young boy. Steve looked at him with wild eyes, then jerked his head the other way with a tiny gasp, as if being startled by someone. He turned back to Bruce.

"I just want the voices to stop. Please make it stop." With a yelp, he cradled his arm close to his chest. Allen had hit him again.

"Voices? What voices?" Bruce asked urgently, examining Steve's arm.

"The ones in my head. His name is Allen. No one else can hear 'em. They're always screamin' at me. They always hit me." At the last part, Steve's eyes darkened, and he murmured, "Why does everybody hit me?"

Bruce looked up. It just couldn't be. In a grave tone, He asked, "Steve, what do the voices tell you to do?"

Steve looked at Bruce. How did he know the voices told him to do things?

"HE'S OUT TO GET YOU!" Allen screamed.

The rest of the team had gathered in the room to see what the matter was.

Steve ignored Allen's vehement protests and spoke. "He tells me to hit. To do bad things... Tells me Daddy's right to do what he does. Tells me to die..."

And no one knew how to respond to that. It was unreal- not just for Cap to be this way, but to be at the mercy of his mind at such a young age... it was unimaginable. Bruce wrapped his arm around the small boy. The diagnosis was clear, and it filled him with dread.

"Steve, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to stay right here. Don't listen to a word of what Allen says. I'm going to get something that might help stop the voices, but I want you to stay with my friends here, okay?" He said gently. Steve nodded, more than a little frightened. He wanted to do what the nice doctor said, but he couldn't just ignore Allen. It was too much.

You're worthless. I hate you. So does your daddy. There's something wrong. You have to stop it with your mind. These people are part of the plot. Mommy's gone now- no one can stop me. You're so stupid. You're weak. Why do I even bother with you? God can't help you now.

The thoughts were just too much. He couldn't handle it. He ignored the people in the room who were saying something to him, pressed his hands to his ears and curled up small. He wanted someone to just hold him. But Momma was gone now, and she couldn't help him now. The thought scared him even more and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry harder than he already was.

Natasha watched him with the most pity. A suppressed maternal instinct told her to sit with the child and stroke his hair, but she tamped it down, worried that it would remind the boy too much of his mother. Clint and Tony both just looked at the sight as if it were the biggest freak show at the circus, because it honestly was. The kid was Captain freakin' America- hearing voices and being a child was not part of the job description. They all watched, more than a little shaken, as the boy whimpered and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Steve hadn't sucked his thumb since he was a baby, but now he just couldn't help it. He needed comfort. His Momma was gone, he was left in a room with strangers while his doctor was away, and the voices wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried. After a few minutes of sucking he calmed down a little. He kept reminding himself that God was still there and that he wasn't all alone like he thought.

God would protect him. God would keep him safe. God had a plan.

He repeated the three phrases like a mantra, just wishing more than anything to be back at home.