AN : And so the plot thickens. The song in the title is Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke. Give it a listen.
I do hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, I'm trying to give it substance and emotion. I've been watching a lot of Seb Stan's interviews about Bucky and trying to keep in mind with his idea that Bucky is not an empty shell, he's like a child with ADD, so many things going on at once.
Anyways, I'll cut the chat and let you get on with the story. One more day of work and then I've got three whole days off, so plenty of time for writing.
Much love to my reviewers, followers and anyone who is reading.
You guys kick ass.
Xxx

Chapter Ten :
A tear in my brain
Allows the voices in
They wanna push you off the path
With their frequency wires

Geoff Fisher was not a bad man. He did not have any evil machinations. He was a human, same as you or I. He lived in a pleasant apartment in Manhattan. He had worked with S.H.I.E.L.D for over twenty years.
His children – two daughters were grown, married with children of their own, and lived in other states.
His wife – Marian had passed away several years ago. Ovarian cancer had gotten the better of her after a long battle.
Geoff Fisher was not a bad man. Geoff Fisher was a bitter man.

All he had done for S.H.I.E.L.D. his endless days and nights spent toiling away in their laboratories, getting little thanks for the hours of his life spent trying to make the world a safer place.

After the years of hard work he had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel. It had come when none other than Director Fury had come to find him, and tell him that he was to be the presiding Physician on The Winter Soldier.
It had meant a substantial pay-rise, and that Fisher would get to rub shoulders with S.H.I.E.L.D's biggest and best.

He had not been given any say in the selection of his colleagues. Had he had even the slightest bit of input he certainly would not have chosen that uptight bookworm with the cane.
The blonde bitch that had wandered in, appearing confused and meek at first, yet wasting no time in barking orders and throwing her weight around.
Both of his daughters were more than likely older than her and Fisher found this somewhat irksome little child pulling his case out from underneath him nothing short of infuriating.

He had returned to his apartment after having been told that he had been phased out of Project Defrost.

The kicked the door shut behind him and stormed into the kitchen, he pulled at the fridge door so hard, the damn thing almost came off, and he grabbed a beer.
It was in or around that time that the doorbell rang.

''Who in the blazes is that?'' he muttered grumpily to himself, he had no desire for unwanted guests right now, and was in the middle of debating whether he would ignore it, then there was a succession of ominous loud thumping knocks.

''Yes, I'm coming.'' He snapped loudly.
Making his way through the apartment, he placed his beer on the hall table and took the door on the latch.
Hauling the door open, he frowned at the sight before him.

''Herr Fisher. A pleasure it is for us to make your acquaintance. May we come in?''

Steve insisted on driving her home. He laughed loudly when she asked if Captain America had nothing better to do then to act as her chauffeur.

"I'm sure there are hundreds of things hundreds of people would like for me to do." He admitted a little sheepishly.
Rachel watched him carefully.

"You really do care about him. Don't you?" She said suddenly, in as soft a tone as she could manage, and Steve inhaled sharply.

He repeated the words he had once told Natasha.

"Even when I had nothing. I had Bucky." He paused, and when Rachel didn't speak he continued.

"I was a scrawny kid in Brooklyn, I got my ass kicked daily. Bucky was my superhero growing up - better still he was and is still my best friend."

To her immense surprise Rachel thought she felt the prick of a tear threatening, but she fought the urge.
"That's sweet Steve, and I do think it will help him, but I want you to know that even my best might not be good enough." Rachel chewed her bottom lip, her gaze falling on the road in front of them.

Droplets of rain chased each other across the windscreen, before the larger wipers cleared them all away, only to allow them to start again.
Dealing with the family or the friends of someone suffering from a mental ailment was in Rachel's opinion, one of the hardest aspects of her job.
People did not want to hear that there was a chance their loved one could not be cured. Conventional methods only went so far with the mind. The rest was a mixture of guess work and understanding the person you were dealing with.

''I know that.'' Steve said quietly, and Rachel narrowed her eyes.
''Do you?'' she pressed, her eyebrows knotted together.

Steve gave her a reassuring smile, ''I get it-'' he promised as he pulled into the driveway of her house, and jumping out.

She flushed a little when he walked around and opened her door.
''Ever the gentleman.'' She grinned at him, before grasping her walking stick and shimmying out of the SUV.

Steve grabbed her belongings from the back and also snatched up a large black briefcase that Rachel hadn't seen before.
''Captain America got time for a coffee? I know a dog who'd be heartbroken if you didn't say hi.'' She offered, making her way – a little stiffly to the front door.
''I think I could manage one cup of coffee for her sake.'' Steve smiled, locking the SUV and following her.

''Hi!'' Rachel was nearly taken out by a giant golden ball of wiggling fur that bowled past her upon opening the front door.
''Uh?'' Rachel looked stunned. Allie had seemingly bypassed her entirely, making a beeline for Steve as if her owner was non-existent.

''Really nice Al. You're going on a diet tomorrow.'' Rachel grumbled, hurrying in out of the worsening rain.
Steve shuffled the stuff around in his arms so he could reach down and pat her, and moved quickly after Rachel, the bounding Labrador skidding after him.

''So I've got a little job for you.'' Rachel said as she set a match to the kindle in the fireplace and the flames licked their way around the dry wood.

''Shoot.'' Steve sipped at his black coffee, and cocked his head to one side curiously.

''Music, and literature from way back when. Anything you can remember Bucky liking or that was popular back then. Stuff he would have seen signs for, or heard about on the radio. Can you make a list?''

Steve nodded, ''Of course, sure thing.'' His eyes fell on the briefcase for a second, but Rachel caught him looking.

''What is it?'' she asked, she had avoided it for long enough. Now she just wanted to know.
''That is for you to open after I leave.'' Steve said with an air of finality that Rachel did not contest.

''Now.'' He downed the last mouthful of coffee and rose. ''I better go. Pick up at 9:00 am?''
Rachel took the mug from him with his thanks and nodded. ''Nine sounds good.'' She agreed, and as they made their way towards the door, Allie in tow, a thought occurred to Rachel.

''Hey, um Steve. Quick question?''
''Yeah?''
''How do you think Directory Fury would feel about dogs in S.H.I.E.L.D?''
Steve stopped and turned to look at Rachel, then he glanced at Allie, his eyes awash with emotions she was having trouble deciphering.

''Bucky asked for one?''

''He mentioned he liked dogs. Animals have been used for years as a form of therapy. I thought it might help.'' She scratched Allie's ear as she spoke.
Steve nodded, and smiled a little despondently.

''He had a dog like her once - but more of a reddish colour though, and not as pretty– his name was Dusty. That dog followed him everywhere.'' He said wistfully, and trailed off for a minute, then he opened the front door.
The skies had opened up and huge glistening droplets fell in their thousands, Steve stared out into it, his mind miles away as the ghosts of the past weighed heavily on his shoulders. He made to move.

''Steve?'' Rachel spoke and the words were flowing before she could stop them.
''You know you can talk to me right? I might not have experience in dealing with the trauma's you've gone through, but I'm willing to listen. Anytime, day or night.''
Steve did not move for a long moment, but then he turned slowly, a sad smile donning his handsome face.

To Rachel's immense surprise, Steve leaned down and kissed her cheek.
''Thank you.'' His voice was filled with such gratitude that Rachel blushed violently.

''See you tomorrow.'' Rachel stammered, and Steve smiled, before bolting out into the rain and getting into the SUV. Rachel waved him off and shut the door, locking it tightly. She loathe to admit it, but all this talk of Hydra and Super Soldiers was making her a little uneasy.

Luna mewled from the couch, but did not move as Rachel re-entered the living room. She eyed the briefcase apprehensively, curiosity getting the better of her.
Steve had said to open it when he was gone.

She sat on the couch and carefully brought the case to rest on her lap.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel unclipped it, and drew it open.

''Oh.''
Nestled in the case sat a large, but otherwise inconspicuous laptop, and a very fat brown envelope.
Cocking her head to one side, Rachel began with the envelope.
Her name was written in a pretty script on it.
She tore it open with shaking hands – a combination of her condition and nerves.
In the envelope she found a hefty file, a cheque written for an outrageous sum of money, and a letter addressed to her.

Dr Reid,

Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Please find enclosed a personal computer for your use only. Please note that this personal computer will respond to fingerprints only. I took the liberty of pulling your file and having it set up already.
Also enclosed is the unofficial file we have put together summarising all we know of Sgt Barnes time as an Agent of Hydra and other information you may find useful. This information is highly sensitive. Destroy after reading.
Finally please fine your first month's paycheque in advance. S.H.I.E.L.D has taken the liberty of handing in your letter of resignation to the board of Directors at the New York University Medical Centre.
I look forward to working with you.

Yours Sincerely,

Tony Stark

a.k.a Iron Man
C.E.O and Co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D

Rachel's eyebrows had travelled so far up her forehead as she read the letter that they were all but hidden beneath her hair.
''No way.'' She breathed.
She eyed the cheque with mixed apprehension and sheer astonishment. It was more than she earned in two months, and she made a pretty decent wage.
Next she pulled out the laptop and set it to one side. She already had a laptop – it was a little old, but in perfect order otherwise. She guessed by the Stark Industries logo on the back however, that this laptop was a good sight better than hers.

Then came the file.
Rachel swallowed, and before she opened it, decided that this was best looked at with a glass of wine in hand, and in more comfortable clothing.

The clock above the fire told her it was almost three am when she looked up next. The fire had long since died and the single glass of wine had turned into a now, very empty bottle.

Buried beneath pages of notes and faded photos, with her new laptop warming her lap and Allie watching her drowsily from the floor, she had completely immersed herself in the information S.H.I.E.L.D had gathered on Bucky and his transformation.

There were many accounts from Hydra operatives that S.H.I.E.L.D had arrested after the hoopla in Washington.
The photos were what turned her stomach however.

There were only a few, and each more graphic than the last. Images of Bucky naked, in the corner of a dark cell, bloodied and black, more of him strapped to a gurney, appearing to be undergoing some form of ECT – Electroconvulsive Therapy.

Rachel had taken note of this, for numerous reasons, firstly being that she had read several distinguished articles on ECT and its adverse effects on the patients memory, and secondly because as she saw the photo, she was visited by the image of her first face to face encounter with Bucky. When Orla had turned on the lights and he had flinched so hard that if he had not been strapped down he would have fallen off the gurney.

ECT looked like a major factor in his memory loss, but his conditioning and transformation into the lethal assassin held more secrets that even S.H.I.E.L.D had yet to discover.

There were several photos of his metal prosthetic in what Rachel assumed were its various forms of construction. Here Tony had made several notes and given his ideas on how the arm worked, he noted that it had to be interwoven with Bucky's own nerves given the level of control and seamless movement he had.
Rachel made another note that she would ask Tony to take a look at it with her, perhaps with her knowledge of human anatomy, and his knowledge of all things mechanical, they could figure out how it worked.

The final photo was what made Rachel decide it was time for bed, and this time as the tears pricked her eyes, she could not fight them. For in all her life, she had never been filled with such an overwhelming sense of pity and inert sympathy for someone.

It was tattered, coffee stained, and black and white. It was dark and hard to make out, but once she understood what was going on she gasped aloud.

In the forefront of the photo stood two men, wearing white coats and looking proud.
In the background of the photo, strewn up by heavy chains - wearing a mask akin to something Hannibal Lector would be seen wearing – was Bucky. His metal arm was missing, so he was simply hanging by his right arm, several feet from the floor. She wondered if this was in the early days, before their experimentation had fully begun. He was sickly thin, his ribs prominent – even in the dim photo.
Shuddering, Rachel scooped up the photos and buried them back in the file and out of view.

''Christ…'' she murmured, shutting the laptop with a snap and getting to her feet. She stretched and yawned.
She tried to rub the image of Bucky hanging limp out her mind, but was failing miserably.
Cleaning away the mess she had made and folding all of her S.H.I.E.L.D documents back into the case she made for her room – not before grabbing the ridiculous cheque and shutting off the lights as she went.
Allie padded after her and she found Luna already waiting on her pillow.

Five minutes later, after staring hard at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, she found herself drifting into a fitful sleep, and hugging the purring cat and snoring dog a little closer than usual.