Shit shit shit! I am so sorry about this wait! It was never supposed to be this long but I just entered a brain fog because I knew it had to be written a certain way that was critical for the story and every time I tried, I would draw a blank. I didn't even realize it had been so long until I checked the last update and saw it was over half a year (I was also in my final semester of grad school, if anyone can relate to that experience)
I finally just told myself to sit down and write whatever came to mind for a day (that day ended up being two hours haha). Well, I somewhat succeeded but this is only part of the chapter I wanted. I gave up and decided that since it is still Harry's birthday for a few more hours here, I would gift you guys with this and give myself time to flesh out the second part of this chapter to post soon.
Steve
Steve
Steve Rogers
Steve Rogers: Captain America
The name echoed through his head, feeling in his bones that this was the person, this was the man who was in his memories.
His name was splashed across the newspapers and television. Kids running around with Captain America shirts and toys. A sense of justice and hope mixing with the fear and anxiousness. Captain America had returned in the country's darkest hour and defeated the villains just like he had seventy years ago.
But that was the man now. The Winter Soldier needed to know who the man had been all those years ago. His memory was all over the place, like a documentary played out of sequence and missing large sections of film. And the only way to fill those sections was to gather information. That meant finding a public computer or entering a public library, both of which exposed him to his enemies.
He did have a place to start, where everything began: Steve's apartment.
It was where he first encountered the man and where his memory began to malfunction…no, not malfunction, started to work properly for the first time in years.
It is a nice neighborhood, a stray thought commenting that they could never have afforded this before the war. He easily disables the hidden cameras and recorders outside the apartment and was looking forward to doing the same inside.
The man clearly hadn't been home in a few days, if the newspaper dated July 17, 2012, was anything to go off of, or the pile of mail slipped under his door.
The Winter Soldier crouched down to pick up the envelopes, inspecting each of them carefully.
Most of them looked to be handwritten letters, curious as the man's address was strictly confidential. No one outside SHIELD and HYDRA should know of it.
Carter
That name stuck out. Flashes of a feisty English woman sprung forward, the quiet teasing in the sound of his voice, and the indifference as his handlers raged about the woman.
Peggy Carter, Head of SHIELD, former member of the SSR, Steve's crush, and…
Dying
Peggy Carter was currently in an extended care facility, suffering from dementia. She had been admitted seven months ago, his mind supplied.
A ghost of a smile crossed his face just thinking about the strong-willed English woman.
He steps further into the home, placing the letters on the nearest surface. The apartment was nicely furnished, Steve had clearly tried to make it homely but he spotted how impersonal it was straight away. The information coming to him readily.
An apartment with drawings tacked to every surface, a radio playing in the background with the breeze fluttering against the curtains through the open window. The kitchen had always been immaculate, seeing as that was where his medicine was stored but other than that, there were newspapers and books and loose paper everywhere, charcoal on every surface. Steve was not a messy individual but when he got an idea in his head, it was like nothing else matter.
He recognized the drawing style on the scrap paper on the table, leafing through the book next to it. It was a book titled: The Greatest Events of the 20th Century. In it, on the page margins were dozens upon dozens of sticky notes and page holders.
The papers weren't lying then. Steve Rogers has only been in the 21st century a couple of months at most.
But that still didn't tell him who he was. Why was this man so important to him?
They were friends once, the best of friends. They were in the war together but then he vanished in his memories and all the Winter Soldier knew was bitter cold and pain.
His shoes clunk on the hardwood of the apartment as he makes his way further in. He can hear the chiming of church bells in the distance, the banging of the neighbors above but all of that falls away when his eyes fall on the only folder occupying the coffee table. Sitting there innocently with his face – it was his face but happy – pinned to the top.
Metal fingertips brush against the paper, lingering and hesitant to open it.
This could be him, his history, his life. Was he really ready for all of that?
.
.
If there was one thing the Winter Soldier was not, it was a coward.
Black hair and green eyes came to the forefront of his memories when he looked at that picture. He could vaguely recall that it was taken during a time he had managed to get away from HYDRA.
Rynan
Yes, he remembered her. She was the girl in all his memories! The green eyes that have haunted him for a decade.
Rynan Potter, the girl who saved him.
And he knew exactly what that file would contain, knew the determination and fiery Rynan would've carried over the years in her search for him. And for the first time in a very long time, the Winter Soldier felt a smile cross his face, knowing that this woman he could barely remember was the reason Steve had this information, that after everything, she had never stopped fighting for him. She had never stopped looking.
Flicking through the pages, he felt like maybe he could become James Barnes, again. Be this person Steve and Rynan thought worth saving. Maybe, despite everything he had done, he was worth all this. It didn't feel like it now but he had something he hadn't in a long time: hope.
Now he had to tie up loose ends and get himself mentally situated before he could show his face.
He had hurt her and while he didn't think he was worth all this trouble, he had to do right by her, even if it meant never seeing her again.
Most days he can fight through the crippling pain but on the days he cannot, the paralyzing pain leaves him bed-ridden for days, wishing for an end. The anguish and torture of his head feeling like it would split open any second was beyond his pain tolerance. He downed pain-killer after pain-killer in hopes of some relief but his body burned through the drugs before they had a chance to work.
Through the worst throes of pain, he wished for death. On other days, he feared the fever would take him. But he knew – just like the pain-killers – the serum in his body would never allow that. Zola had assured him years ago that he was the closest success he had to Erskine's super-soldier formula.
His time in that haze was a scrambled mess he couldn't make sense of which was why he didn't remember much of those days.
The more he observed Steve and Rynan as they came and went at the SHIELD headquarters, the more he remembered. The more time he spent away from HYDRA, the more he remembered. He was remembering missions he had buried in the deepest depths of his mind and he was remembering his birthdays with his parents and sisters. The war in Europe and containment in Siberia. He remembered laughter and he remembered screams. He remembered dancing to swing music late into the night and he remembered brutal training that lasted into the early hours of the morning.
At times when he could focus, he would concentrate on Rynan and the time he had spent free with her only a few short years ago. He would let the muted sounds of laughter fill him, the warmth of being loved by two people who had every reason to hate him. The joy of raising Teddy, being the man he looked up to, of having a son. How Teddy would try to imitate him, much to the exasperation of his mother. There were late nights, sleepless nights, filled with whispered promises and comforts. He remembered home.
But with the memories he let consume him, came the guilt of promises that were never kept. Of the life he had thrown away.
And then came the darker times. The pain and death and torture. The wishing for death, knowing it would be better than the hell he had to endure, and finding endlessness. He remembered faces, both with and without names. They come to him in his sleep, haunting him with their terror as he ruthlessly cut them down. Some deserved it while most did not. He remembers a death so horrible, it assured his handlers that he would never go against them. He remembers years of nothing but coldness that he feared he would never know the feeling of warmth again, of his blood turning to ice in his veins. He wonders if Steve feels this too, after coming out of the ice. He remembers phantom pain as his arm was removed and reworked over the years and the constant fire in his nerves that followed.
He is in a constant state of paranoia. It is looking over his shoulder for HYDRA, dodging SHIELD agents, checking for cameras, cutting his hair and hiding his face – all of which is second nature at this point but it still doesn't stop the niggling fear that someone is looking at him.
And he was right to be paranoid because HYDRA would never let him escape. They had every camera, every person available, out looking for him. They had eyes in the sky and eyes on the ground.
He had been cornered more than once and each time he had barely gotten away. They were sending more and more agents and he was at the disadvantage since he had no weapon.
It was his last encounter which had done the worst damage. One of the HYDRA agents had an EMP which connected to his arm, sabotaging the circuitry. Following up that attack, one of the agents he recognized – double agent, his mind supplied – pinned him to the ground, knee digging into his back as he pulled his left arm.
He grunted in pain as he felt the muscle pull and his shoulder dislocate.
Coming across with his right side, he changed the momentum and caught the man off guard, taking his gun and firing at each agent until they were all dead. He looked at the scene with a blank expression, picking up the fallen weapons and placing them on his person.
He walks away from the scene, arm limp at his side and a little more Winter Soldier than he wanted to be.
After days of messing with his arm, trying to get it functioning once again, he has to concede defeat: he needs help. He can't fight HYDRA with only one functioning arm.
He waivers between Steve and Rynan, knowing either one will be hard but only one won't ask questions. Only one can heal him.
And maybe there is more to it. Maybe he just needs confirmation that he is making a difference. He just wants to see her, see that out of all the shit he remembers, he had done at least one good thing. Seeing her alive and well was what he needed to keep fighting to get his memories back, to be the man he remembered. He couldn't stand to keep hurting the people who seemed to care for him. He had to know that there was a light at the end of this godforsaken tunnel, that there was a reason he didn't just end it now that he had a chance.
He finds himself outside a nice, homely house, reminiscent of the one back in England. He lets a half-smile cross his face, remembering a time he had done something similar half a world away. He moves around her home, seeing how her life had moved on since he had last seen her.
When he is finally done examining the house, he seats himself at the dining room table and waits.