Chapter 2

Less than an hour later, her tests had been run and she'd moved him to a more comfortable bed. The tests had confirmed some of her suspicions, but they'd also raised more questions. Not only did his cells have the same regenerative properties as Steve Rogers, but she'd found traces of two different drugs in his system. She had some ideas as to the reason behind the presence of those drugs, so she sat down again next to him to get more answers.

"Look, I know you don't want me to call you James, but I need to call you something, so what shall it be?" she asked.

"If it makes you feel better to call me James, call me James", he replied flatly.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I was right about your cell regeneration. I assume the painkillers have worn off"?

She took his silence as an affirmative.

"I found some other things when I tested your blood. Do you know anything about the drugs they gave you"?

"They gave me an injection after every mission", he replied, looking away from her. "If the mission was successful, green. If the mission failed, red".

"I assume the green injections made you feel good", she continued, a knot forming in her chest as she realized where this was going.

"And the red injections caused pain", he finished.

"They were conditioning you", she said, the knot in her chest tightening as she took in his expressionless eyes. "And they were keeping you on a leash. I think you're probably about to start experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Have you ever gone more than 48 hours without either drug"?

"No", he said shortly, but finally turning to look at her.

She sighed again, her sympathy growing for this broken man, "It's not going to be pleasant, I'm afraid. I can sedate you, but with your increased metabolism, the sedative won't last very long. We'll have to wait until the symptoms become close to unbearable", she finished sadly.

"How long will it last", he asked, still very matter-of-fact, no trace of fear or reluctance in his voice as he turned away from her.

"With your cell regeneration … a day? I can knock you out for about six hours, but that's it. I'm going to hook you up to a heart monitor, just to keep an eye on you. I'll stay with you, ok"?

He whipped his head back to look at her, suspicion in his eyes, but remained silent, only nodded. She stood and began prepping the room again, bringing over the heart monitor, placing a bucket next to him on the floor, and laying a blanket at his feet. Then she sat down again and placed her hand on top of his. He flinched at the contact, pulling his hand away. She withdrew and placed her hand back in her lap, not wanting to push.

They sat for a long time in silence. He would occasionally turn to glance at her, meeting her eyes, then abruptly looking away. Eventually, she noticed him starting to tense up again, his arms unconsciously wrapping around himself as the chills began to set it. She wordlessly opened the blanket and spread it over him, not sure how much comfort he would allow her to give him. He uncurled a little, the blanket providing him with some warmth, and then shot forward, grabbing the bucket and emptying his stomach into it. Rubbing his back lightly, still not wanting to push, she was seemingly unable to stop herself from trying to comfort him. He looked at her as he put the bucket down and leaned back, and she was relieved to see what looked like gratitude in his eyes. She smiled at him and got him a glass of water, sitting back in her chair with her hands resting on the edge of the bed. She watched him drink it and put it back down, then tried to conceal her surprise as she felt his hand slide under hers and grip it tentatively. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, his brow furrowing and his hand gripping hers tighter. She ran her fingers through his hair gently and prepared to wait out what was going to be a long night.

Hours later, he still hadn't said a word, but was clearly reaching the worst of his withdrawal symptoms. Squeezing his hand, she stood and picked up a syringe.

"I think it's time for that sedative", she said quietly, still holding his hand.

"I'm fine", he said, a trace of stubbornness in his voice, "I can handle it".

"I know you can", she said, trying hard not to sound placating, "But you don't have to. Wouldn't you rather sleep"?

For the first time since he'd come in to her lab, he looked scared. She felt that knot tighten further as she realized sleep was not a comfort for him. Sleep meant dreaming, and she could only imagine the horrible things his subconscious had to work through while he slept.

Forcing his face back into a neutral expression, he nodded, not wanting her to see his fear. She gave him the injection and sat back down, waiting for the drugs to take effect. Within minutes, his head was nodding, his heart rate slowing. He finally leaned back, eyes closed, his muscles relaxing and his heart rate slowing to a firm, steady pace. Confident he was out, she put her head down herself, recognizing her own need to get some rest, but not wanting to leave him.