The Winter Soldier, one of the most enigmatic and ruthless assassins of modern history, spent the last few hours of daylight tottering around his hospital room, and falling on his hands and knees every few steps. His only break was for dinner, where Nurse Fox attempted to feed him the usual patient's meal: a slice of chicken breast, with peas and carrots. She thought since he kept his lunch down he was ready to move onto meat and vegetables. She was wrong, oh so very wrong, and she had to replace his sheets while throwing the vomit-soaked set in the laundry bin. She made it perfectly clear that she was not upset with him. She didn't shiver in disgust or raise her voice with him, but he still felt embarrassed enough to withdraw in a fetal position on his bed. She tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he stiffened and drew away, so she only gently placed the new blanket over him, and said with her usual smile, "You should take a nap."
He immediately shut his eyes tightly and shuffled around, like he was trying to make himself fall asleep as quickly as possible. She realized that she had accidentally made that sound like a command and not a suggestion, so she tried again, "Would you like to rest for a while?"
He nodded and found his comfy position, taking a moment to truly relax. She turned off the light to help him sleep. While she initially planned to only let him take a 30-minute power nap, every time she walked in to wake him up, she could hear his calm breaths and couldn't bear to take him away from that peace. He ended up sleeping for three hours straight, but as usual, woke up confused. What year was it now? Why was it so dark? Where and how was he supposed to get his next mission? The Winter Soldier couldn't just be awake for the sake of being awake, he had to be up for a purpose, and until he knew his purpose, he was vulnerable to the enemy, whoever that may be.
When Nurse Fox came back in, finally deciding to wake him, she turned on the lights, but was unable to find him. She widened her eyes, so close to panicking and calling Code Brown. As she turned to rush out and look for him in the hallways, she found him crouched right behind her, which shocked her enough to make her shriek. He may not have been able to walk yet, but he could still pounce on her and squeeze her throat, instinctively reaching for a knife that should be strapped to his belt.
"AH!" She managed to scream hoarsely and used her stretched arms to keep him at a distance, "Stop! It's just me!"
As quickly as his hunting instincts had set in, his first recent memory of her face smiling at him as he opened his eyes was triggered by the same hand that rested gently on his shoulder now pushing him away. He froze immediately and crawled off of her, for if he knew one thing right now, it was that this woman was not the enemy. As he backed into the corner, ashamed and afraid, she surprised him once again with her almost instant forgiveness.
"It's alright, I understand." She crawled over to him, brushed his bangs out of the way and looked directly into his baby blue eyes, "They warned me this would happen. Everything is okay. I am here for you."
They told her beforehand that she was working with a dangerous killer, and that he was kept on ice for the greater good. They warned her not to provoke him, but they couldn't have warned her of how infantile his gaze could be. Her job was literally to get him up and running. She wasn't supposed to get attached.
