Chapter 11

Avengers Tower

New York City

11:00 PM, Local Time

James took the stairs two at a time. JARVIS had sealed off all the lower floors of the tower, leaving Steve no place to go but up. Even so, Rogers was leading them in a merry chase through the upper levels. He'd already taken down two of Stark's Legionnaires, and apparently taken out a junction box by accident that blinded JARVIS' internal sensors.

Not bad for a guy who didn't know who or where he was.

Sam was bruised and dizzy, but fortunately no worse for the wear. He had donned his wings and was patrolling outside the building to make sure Steve didn't try anything stupid like exiting through a balcony or off the roof.

Banner elected to stay in the lab with Simmons. Steve wasn't in a talking mood, and there was a risk of the Hulk coming out if Steve got violent with Banner. Stark and Barton were heading up the north stairwell. Thor and Natasha had taken an elevator up to the roof and were working their way down, level by level. James marked their progress through his earpiece.

He had just finished searching the common room when Thor's voice crackled through the comm.

"Steven just fled the guest level." Thor reported, then added with wry humor. "He is not in a gaming mood."

"What does that mean?" Barton asked.

"Thor's going to have a hell of a black eye," Natasha explained.

James couldn't help but smile. A super-soldier in fight-or-flight mode, adrenaline pumping...Thor was lucky Steve wasn't an inherently violent person. He doubled back, heading for the stairs that would take him up to their level.

"Don't worry Point Break," Stark replied. "You can't look any worse than Wilson does right now."

"I see him!" Sam called out. "Balcony level. Looks like he's headed for the landing pad."

"J, lock down the hangar," Stark ordered.

"Already doing so, sir."

James stopped and mentally charted where he was in the building. He changed course and headed for the south side. "I'm close. Heading down."

He made it to the balcony overlooking the landing pad, and immediately spotted Steve looking for a way off the locked-down level. "I have him in sight."

Leaping over the railing, he dropped the thirty feet down to the deck, just a short distance from Steve. He raised his right hand in a calming gesture. "Steve! Listen to me. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Steve wasn't hearing him. James could see the panic in his eyes even at that distance. Ironically, he supposed he was lucky. He had been conditioned for obedience, and to wait for orders. All those times he'd awoken from being wiped, he'd been spared the panic of not knowing who he was or what was happening around him. Rogers took off running, toward the edge of the platform.

James ran after him. "Wilson, where are you?"

"In position. I can catch him if he goes over."

He spared a glance skyward, and saw the glow of Sam's jetpack in the darkness above them.

Steve, even panicked and confused, apparently wasn't completely out of his mind. He skidded to a stop when he reached the edge, just short of the safety nets that rimmed the pad. James slowed, positioning himself so that Steve was cornered.

"Who are you people? What did you do to me?" Steve demanded, backing up as James got closer.

"We didn't hurt you," James began, raising his hands slowly so he'd appear less threatening. "It's a long story. Your friends—we're trying to help you. Just come back inside. You're safe."

Steve frowned. "Why should I believe you?"

James suppressed a sigh. Stevie always had been an untrusting little jerk. Some things can't be erased, I guess.

"James, he's too close to the edge. Take him down before he hurts himself," Natasha said through the comm.

It would be relatively easy. James had edged closer while they'd been talking. A sucker punch with his cybernetic arm might be all it took. But, he wasn't going to do that. There'd been exactly two days in his life when he'd raised a fist in anger to Steve Rogers—both the previous April. There wouldn't be a third.

He decided simplicity might be best. "Because I'm your friend. And I'm not lying to you."

Steve paused, looking him up and down. "We're friends?"

"Since grade school."

Rogers frowned, like he was trying to think, then grimaced and clutched his head in pain. "W-why can't I remember?"

"We're gonna figure that out. I promise," James said. "I'm going to fix you up, good as new. 'Til the end of the line, Stevie, I meant that."

Steve's eyes widened for a moment, and James dared to hope that maybe he'd hit on a connection.

A moment later, though, Steve brought both hands to the sides of his head and staggered back, crying out. He stepped back blindly, and his foot went right off the edge of the landing platform. The safety net tangled around his ankle, but in the cross wind that far up, all it served to do was topple him backwards.

James lunged forward. His vibranium hand wrapped around Steve's flailing right forearm, but Rogers' weight threatened to pull both of them over the edge. James fell forward, driving his flesh and blood hand through the safety netting in an effort to brace them. He ended up halfway over the ledge, one arm tangled in the nets, and his metal hand clutching Steve's forearm as tightly as he dared. Steve swayed in the wind, pulling painfully on James' arm and shoulder.

"Hang on, I'm coming in!" Wilson called out.

Steve wasn't going to last flailing helplessly, however. The servos in James' arm whined with the strain. "Steve, grab on with your other hand!"

Fear had taken hold of Rogers again. With a thousand foot drop beneath them, no one could blame him for it. James squeezed his arm to get his attention. "You gotta trust me, pal, or we're both going over."

Something got through. Steve visibly calmed, and managed to grab onto his arm with both hands. James let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and glanced up, looking for Sam.

"Where are you, Wilson?" He growled. "Nothing with wings should be this fucking slow."

The words were just out when Wilson appeared behind Steve and grabbed hold of him. "Calm down, I'm already here."

Steve shot James a questioning look, but let Sam lift him up and back over onto the platform. James carefully disentangled himself from the nets and rolled over. Sam was already back, offering a hand to help him up.

"Nice catch," Sam said quietly.

CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS

Avengers Tower

1:00 AM, Local Time

James fell back on the bed—Steve's bed, actually, Steve himself was resting in the infirmary once more, after he and Sam had talked him into staying put—and let the exhaustion catch up with him. It'd been a torturously long few days, and aside from some time unconscious, James hadn't rested much.

He rubbed his face and let out a soft groan as he sank into the mattress. It was too soft. But, the pillow was nice, and as he let his eyes drift shut, he idly hoped that he'd be too tired to dream, for once. He was nearly out when he sensed a presence in the room, and heard the scuff of a shoe.

"What?" he rumbled.

"Sorry, didn't know you were asleep."

He pushed himself up on his elbows and wearily opened his eyes to glare at his visitor. "Go away, Wilson. I don't want to talk about my feelings right now."

Sam huffed. "Why does everyone think I'm in counseling mode when I drop in?"

James frowned at the subdued tone of voice, but let the comment pass unaddressed. "How's Steve?"

"Sleeping, finally. I imagine he needs it," Sam replied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I guess you do too. I'm sorry, I should go."

"I'll live," James blurted out, suddenly not wanting to be alone. Sam stopped before reaching the door, and turned back, though he didn't make eye contact. James tilted his head. "What did you want to talk about?"

Sam looked startled. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't come in here just to tell me Steve is asleep." James said.

The other man hesitated, but finally folded his arms and walked deeper into the room. "I, uh, wanted to ask you a question."

James just raised his eyebrows expectantly. Sam started and stopped a few times before finally coming out with it.

"Rumlow...after everything he did—to Steve, to you—I'm not sure I could have stopped myself from killing the bastard." Sam fidgeted. "How did you?"

Barnes frowned, looking away. He'd rather not have talked about any of that, especially given what happened later. But, Sam was Steve's friend, and a good one, it seemed. James couldn't bring himself to push him away.

"I could have broken him in two," he admitted, keeping his eyes on a shadowy corner of the room. "I wanted to. But, some part of me knew that if I did that, I wouldn't be able to look Steve in the eye later. And I wanted to be able to." He huffed a disgusted laugh. "Too bad that part of me didn't take over with those doctors. Steve wouldn't approve of what I did back there."

"I don't think anyone's shedding any tears over that," Sam said. There was an undertone of cold fury in his voice.

James knew how he felt. "When I saw Steve in that chair...it was like looking in a mirror." He shot Wilson a grim smile. "I don't like looking in the mirror, Sam. I don't like the guy who stares back at me."

Sam said nothing. James shook his head slowly. "When I saw him, all I could see was what they did to me. Those same people. The same words. It was happening again and I couldn't stop it...and the other guy just came out." James noted Sam's confused look. "I've been pushing him away for months. Tried to pretend it was all over. The doc says I shouldn't think of the Winter Soldier as someone else. It was me and I need to 'accept' it. I guess she's right. He's not going away."

There in the dark, it felt safe enough to admit it, at last. Maybe all Steve's hard work had been for nothing. There was always going to be a killer, just underneath the surface, waiting to lash out. "I don't think I can be the guy Steve wants me to be."

"He wants you to be you," Sam scoffed.

"He wants that guy in the museum." James said softly. "He wants his best friend back."

"He has his best friend back," Sam said, sounding certain of it. "I see his face when he's around you, and I never see disappointment."

"Well, Steve's not the brightest guy in the world," James jibed, deflecting the compliment.

"No argument there," Sam said, smiling for a moment. "How are we going to help him?"

James turned to stare out the expansive windows, watching the bright lights of the city skyline, and felt more than a little helpless. He shrugged. "I dunno."

CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS

Avengers Tower, Medical Wing

New York City

2:00 PM

Doctors Banner and Simmons took three days to go through all the records James had given them. Stark had struck out on figuring out a way to reverse the process using the machine itself. That sad fact both surprised none of them and disappointed all of them.

James and Sam pulled up lab stools and sat while Simmons brought up their findings on one of the lab's holographic displays. Banner put his glasses on and activated another display of various brain scans.

"All right. James, let's start with you. These are scans of your brain from the last time HYDRA used the machine on you."

The scans showed large glowing red areas along the frontal lobe. Banner pressed a button on his tablet and another scan appeared. "These scans are from a few months earlier, and we have a scan before the memory wipe, and one immediately after."

The scans were very different, with the before scan showing considerably less red. Banner continued. "This is why HYDRA had to keep wiping you. Your brain tissue heals at an extraordinary rate compared to a normal human being. The machine likely would have killed anyone who didn't have your enhancements. But, the same healing factor that allowed the machine to work in the first place also forced them to perform the wipes on a regular basis. The longer the interval between procedures, the more your brain healed. As it healed, your memories started to resurface."

"We should probably clarify," Simmons interjected. "the term 'memory wipe' is not really accurate. HYDRA didn't have the technology to actually erase memories. All the machine truly did was scramble your neural pathways, and make it nearly impossible for your brain to make the associations that we normally make every day. As your brain healed, those connections were repaired, you'd start to recovered memories, and HYDRA had to break them again."

"That's why I'd become erratic after a long mission," James said.

"Exactly." Banner switched the display. Another scan appeared, showing smaller, scattered areas of red. "This is a scan we did of you when you came back to New York. I'd say about forty percent of the damage has repaired itself."

James frowned. "I don't feel halfway better."

"You're not," Simmons said, favoring him with a glum expression. "Unfortunately, it isn't only a simple matter of physical repair. While the patterns we've observed are obvious, the brain is more complicated than that. You've shown a remarkable degree of healing, and no doubt that has helped with your recovery, but there is also the fact that when you were found in the 1940s, you were suffering from amnesia, probably from injuries you sustained in the fall. That, coupled with the intensive mental and psychological conditioning you endured in Russia, makes charting your recovery somewhat difficult."

"So, there's psychological element to it, as well," Sam said.

"Psychological, emotional, all of the above. Yes," Simmons replied. "Think of the brain more like a jigsaw puzzle. It's repairing the pieces, but only you can put them back together where they belong."

James took it all in, staring at the images. "I always hated jigsaw puzzles," he muttered.

"The fact that you've come this far is a good sign," Banner added with a chuckle. "And like Doctor Simmons says, it's remarkable. There's every reason to expect that you'll continue to improve as you have been."

"What about his headaches?" Sam asked.

"That was something we looked at as well," Simmons replied. "We think that the headaches are a direct result of your brain's rapid healing. You've suffered pain when trying to access memories or just after recalling something. It's a side effect."

"This leads us to some good news." Banner activated a different set of displays. "These are Steve's scans. The first is the one I performed with the portable unit on the jet while we were coming back from Colorado. The second is from yesterday."

"There are already signs of marked improvement," Simmons said.

"But he still doesn't remember anything," Sam countered.

"Well, just because Steve's healing factor works faster doesn't mean it won't take time." Banner said gently.

"How long?" James asked. "Do you think?"

Banner shared an uncomfortable glance with Simmons before answering. "If you work with him, the way he has with you these last few months, he might heal relatively quickly—"

"Might," James interrupted. "In what? Days? Weeks?"

"Honestly, we don't know." Simmons said quietly. "It could be days, or weeks, or...months."

James' face fell at the words. Simmons quickly added a note of optimism.

"But, he is already moving in the right direction, and he has a lot going for him. His brain wasn't as severely damaged as...well, as yours, and he was only subjected to the procedure once."

"And, he wasn't conditioned the way you were back in the forties," Banner added bluntly. "He'll recover faster, even though we can't predict how much faster. Believe it or not, this is good news."

Sam looked about as mollified as James felt. "What can we do?"

Simmons smiled. "I would say the same thing he did for Sergeant Barnes. Talk to him, try to engage him and stimulate his brain into make associations, recall memories. The more he works at it, the easier it will get."

CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS

1941

Brooklyn, New York

"You don't...have to stay here...all day, Buck," Steve wheezed in between racking coughs.

Bucky turned from his perch by the window. "Tired of my company already?"

"You should be at work," Steve sighed.

"I'm off today."

Steve leveled a stern look at him. "No, you're not."

"Sure I am," Bucky replied, smiling. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Steve just frowned and curled on his side, pulling the blanket a little tighter around his bony frame.

The truth was Steve seemed to be getting worse. It was already the third sinus infection he'd had since the cold weather set in, and it was affecting his asthma. Every day Bucky would come home to find that the symptoms had worsened. If it kept going like that, he'd have to take Steve to the hospital, and they just didn't have the money.

"I've had worse," Steve murmured.

Bucky flinched. He'd thought the kid had drifted back to sleep. "I know you have."

"Remember when I was seventeen?"

"I remember, kiddo."

"You really don't have to stay."

"Yeah, I do."

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Present Day

Avengers Tower, Medical Wing

New York City

3:00 PM

"Something wrong?"

James flinched, turning away from the infirmary windows. Steve was watching him from the bed, books and tablets scattered across his lap. He shook his head. "No."

"You've been staring out the window for a while."

"Just thinking," James said, moving to sit in the chair beside the bed. Steve had moved around the Tower, trying to acclimate himself, but mostly stayed put in the medical wing. He claimed fatigue, but James suspected it was more a bout of depression. Reading about himself wasn't doing much so far to recover any memories, and Steve was frustrated.

"You gonna make me ask?" Steve said, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

James raised his eyebrows and glanced over, a grin forming on his face. Nosy prick. Fine. "I was thinking about how many times I've seen you laid up sick or hurt."

Steve motioned toward one of the biographies he'd been skimming. "From what I've read, that was probably a lot."

Too many, James mused silently.

"This isn't doing any good." Steve tossed the latest book aside and rubbed his forehead.

"Nothing ringing a bell?" James asked.

Steve shook his head. "Nothing. I...kinda recognize the shield, but...I can't..."

James frowned and stood up, folding his arms as he moved idly around the room. There wasn't much he could do. They'd been talking for days, trying to jog something—anything—loose in Rogers' scrambled brain, but had accomplished nothing.

Does Steve ever feel like this with me?

"You still haven't told me what happened to your arm," Steve blurted.

James shrugged. "It's a long story."

"We appear to have plenty of time," Steve groused, waving at the stack of unhelpful books he'd been perusing.

James smirked. Steve was as bad a patient as ever. It was a trait they had always shared. "I lost it during the war. Some people found me, and gave me this one."

They'd discussed the war, but James had shied away from his postwar nightmare. Sam had talked around it as well, unsure how Steve might react.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "You say 'some people' in a way that makes it sound like it wasn't voluntary."

"I was captured by the enemy," James said simply. "They had...well, I was useful to them, so they built this thing on me."

"Supposedly I was the big hero," Steve said, motioning toward one of the history books again. "Why didn't I come get you?"

James smiled sadly. "You didn't know."

"You seem pretty unconcerned by it," Steve said quietly. "Sounds like you ought to be angry."

"I was. For a while," James said. "But, I've been trying to take the long view these last few days. If they hadn't found me, I might still be frozen in that river, or dead...and I wouldn't have found you again."

It felt easier to express it now, while Steve wasn't quite Steve. It'd been too hard to say before. He felt bad about that, now. If Steve never fully recovered—

James shut that line of thought down before it went any further.

Steve huffed a sardonic laugh. "And we wouldn't be having these fruitful conversations."

James grinned. "Exactly."

Steve rubbed his head again. James stepped closer. "Another headache?"

"Yeah."

"The docs say that's good. Means you're healing."

"Yeah, well, maybe they can have one of these instead of me," Steve said, hissing softly as he raised his other hand to his temple. "Feels like my head's gonna blow off."

"Just breathe," James said, placing a steadying hand on the other man's shoulder. "Ride it out."

"Were they this bad for you?"

"Yeah." James said, keeping his voice low. "They get easier."

Steve planted his elbows on his knees and his hands on his temples and worked on just breathing. "Wouldn't be so bad if they actually led to me remembering something."

"You'll get there, pal," James replied. "Took me a year and counting to get even this far, but they say you're specialer than me, so you'll get through it faster."

"Jealous?" Steve smiled. "And 'specialer' isn't a word."

"Yes, it is."

"It's really not."

"Sure it is, I'm not stupid."

Steve cracked one eye open. "Oh? I thought you always take all the stupid with you."

Don't do anything stupid until I get back.

How can I? You're takin' all the stupid with you.

James went still. "What'd you say?"

"I was just kidding—"

"No, not..." James frowned. "What made you say that?"

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. I just—it just came out."

Don't push. James pursed his lips and nodded. "Okay."

The headache subsided a little, and Steve relaxed. He picked up a few of the books, but immediately set them aside again, looking disappointed. "I'm not getting anything out of this."

James nodded and sat down again. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugged. "Maybe try watching the news again? Maybe something will...I don't know." He shrugged again.

"I know how you feel, Steve. Believe me, I do." James empathized. There was nothing worse than being stuck, trying to rediscover yourself, with nothing to do. At least when James had done it, he'd had revenge to occupy his mind, and other myriad daily tasks like finding food and some place to sleep at night. Steve wasn't on the run, and HYDRA wasn't an imminent threat, for the moment.

All Steve had to cling to was the company of his well-meaning, but equally helpless friends. They were all trying, spending time and telling stories and running through history books looking for things to show him, but in the end it was Steve's brain that had to heal, and it was clear that it was going to do it at its own pace.

In the meantime, James could keep Steve's spirits up—which was odd, since only a few months before, he would never have expected to succeed at such an assignment. "JARVIS, can you put on the news?"

"Certainly, Sergeant. Local, national, or international?"

"Surprise us."

CNN appeared on a monitor mounted along the wall in front of the bed. A second screen lit up, showing a channel selection. Stark's AI always surprised James when it anticipated like that.

"It's odd," Steve murmured. "I remember watching the news in the theater."

James nodded. "Yeah. Now, everyone has a theater in their bedrooms. Takes some getting used to."

Early on, he'd tried to determine when Steve thought he was. The forties? The present? From what Steve had told him, it was a little of both, and the confusion between the two eras—two Steves—wasn't helping his recovery very much. It was like he was trying to put two different jigsaw puzzles together, and the pieces were all mixed up.

Steve folded him arms and sat back on the pillows. A story about President Ellis' newly selected Vice President filled the screen. James focused on the channel list. He'd discovered that he hated watching television news for more than a few minutes. He preferred reading it online, where he could control the feed. He watched the TV schedule roll by with disdain. "All these channels, and I still don't see a damned Rangers game anywhere."

"Forget the Rangers," Steve scoffed, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Give me the Amerks any day."

"Please," James shot back without thinking. "They couldn't win the cup if Stanley himself came out and handed it to them on a silver platter."

"They beat your Rangers easy enough in '38."

"Yeah, right before getting crushed by the Black Hawks—" James blinked and looked over at him in surprise. "Wait, you remember that?"

Steve was still watching the screen. "Yeah, you didn't talk to me for three days after they won. And they were robbed. Stewart made that goal fair and...square..." He trailed off when he saw James staring. "What? Why are you smiling?"

James huffed a laugh. "You remember that."

It took a moment to register, but then Steve was smiling, too. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

"Anything else?"

Steve's brow furrowed, as he tried to think. "Um...your dad took you to your first Rangers game. I think...when you were six?"

"Yeah, in Madison Square Garden. When it was actually in Madison Square." James laughed. "You're doing great, Stevie. Keep going..."

TBC

A/N: Thanks and a shout out to Domenika Marzione and her blog. I know next to nothing about hockey, so James and Steve's conversation is based entirely on her personal headcannon about Steve's hockey interests. She's posted a lot of interesting ideas and analyses about Cap and the Winter Soldier; it's proven very inspiring.