Even the hot liquid on the plane does not alleviate the malfunctions he suffers through on the flight. The adult spider glances at him often, and forces him to eat small crunchy items that he doesn't recognize.

—-

The Asset stands completely still at the baggage claim. Eyes dutifully inspecting each bag as it crosses in front of him. Then his bag comes into sight. A large tag, marking it as having been inspected, catches his eye. He tugs it off the conveyor belt and opens it, checking to make sure all of his items are still inside. The adult spider makes a noise of surprise and leans down, gently touching the disc he took from the mission. He stiffens, worried that she'll take it from him. But she just looks at him curiously and pulls out a device.

"Items acquired." The Asset announces. "Medical attention acceptable."

The adult spider stares at her device. "Nope, change of plan. We're going somewhere else. Come on." She motions for the Asset to follow and he complies.

—

The Asset is in a continuing state of hesitation.

Everything feels like a test.

He searches for the voice, but ever since the mission fell into the Potomac, it's been getting quieter by the day.

Now, it's silent.

And the Asset's head throbs constantly. He's noticed a correlation between the frequency and intensity of the headaches, and the disappearing of the voice.

The Asset isn't sure what the feeling is in his gut, but it makes his nerves stand on edge and he doesn't let a single muscle relax.

—

"You should sleep." His spider says.

He stares at her, unsure what she means by that statement. He doesn't respond, worried to give the wrong answer.

Her face hardens and she sighs, touching his hand. "Asset, sleep. That's an order."

That he understands. He goes to lay on the floor of the small apartment she has brought him too, but she stops him. "No. Asset, you're sleeping on the bed. That's also an order."

She points and he nods. He lies down, and the feeling is almost foreign. He knows what a bed is. He just hasn't been allowed to sleep in one in…

The Asset can't remember.

Searing pain causes him to close his eyes and bite back a groan. Sounds of pain are not allowed.

He doesn't remember falling into stasis. But he does.

—

"Recluse?"

He's awake instantly and by her side. The mission is in front of him and without a second thought the knife in his hip is thrown with accuracy. But the mission lives up to their previous fights, and knocks it to the side.

The spider climbs him. Like she used to do as a mini-spider. Her legs and arms strategically placed to inform him that their fight is over. That he's not in danger. There's a tune he knows. The spider in front of him whistles it too. She's speaking to him, "at ease, Asset.".

His eyes flick to one of the men who stands before him. The Asset stiffens. Even seeing the man with the facial hair brings ghosts of being punished. He doesn't know why.

And soon that man is gently prodding at the back of his head.

The room becomes tense and he stiffens. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's okay. Everything is fine." His spider is saying. He relaxes.

The spider reveals his secret. The coin. He expects swift retribution. None arrives.

They speak about him. The Asset knows they're referencing him. But the spiking pain in his brain only allows him few facilities. He can follow orders. He knows how to do that without any thought.

—

Anthony Edward Stark

Tony stares at the man in front of him. It's Captain America.

The man his dad wouldn't shut up about all his life is standing in front of him. Eye blank like a robot— no scratch that DUM-E had more life in him than this guy.

But Tony knows where that life went. Tony watched it drain away over the period of 70 years. Watched it flow down the drains they laid his body on. Along with his blood and scraps of his skin.

The images of Captain America as an emaciated prisoner of war flash in his vision and Tony takes a deep breath. Trying to keep the memories of his own capture and torture at bay.

Hell. He'd been captured for 3 months. He did the math in his head. 70 years times 12 = 840 months. He was in cryo for probably ⅔ of that leaving about 277 months, divided by 3 = about 92. Captain America suffered in captivity 92 times longer than he had…

Shit.

SHIT.

Tony felt his breathing excellerate. He doesn't mean to compare. It doesn't downplay his own trauma from his own experience. But it sure as hell puts it into perspective.

Tony walks forward after the 'go ahead' from Lydia and gently searches the back of the man's scalp. Shards of metal are poking through skin that's trying to heal over it. And he searches with soft fingers where the device should be according to the files. But it's not. He probes a bit lower and finds the edge of it.

There's a conversation about what to do about that and Tony pulls out his phone to make some calls.

While he does so, his eyes stay trained on the man who stands there, solemn and stoic, and frightening. But also, something in Tony's heart is immeasurably sad for the guy.

Who knows what's left of the man his dad once knew.

It takes Tony three phone calls. That's all he needs to acquire a team, the supplies, and the space.

He loves being rich.

—

"Asset, sleep." Tony watches as Lydia instructs him in every task. After the guy disappears to the room behind. Lydia turns towards them and crosses her arms. "Something's wrong."

They stare at her. Natasha asks first, "what do you mean?"

"He's not…" Lydia glances back towards where he'd just disappeared. "Even 25 years ago he had more of a personality than this. Even at the airport in London. He's degrading."

Tony hears as the plates in Barnes' arms hiss. "Degrading?"

"Yeah." She sits in the chair that Captain America had just vacated and stares at Natasha. "There were so many times I wanted to tell you about him. But after Ophelia… you remember her?" Natasha nods. "After she got caught telling another widow about him, I knew that wasn't an option." The look on Natasha's face tells him he doesn't want to know the details of what happened to Ophelia. "Hydra wanted him blacked out of existence and the Red Room didn't want that fight. They wanted stealth too, so an agreement was made to pretend he'd never existed." She sighs and rubs at her eyes. "I was only 7 when I met him. He looks almost the same. Maybe a bit older, but like… only a year or so, not 25 years. It's scary actually. I used to—" she cuts herself off, looking at Natasha. "We used to dream he'd come back and rescue us. Pathetic, I know. But he was the only adult in the Red Room that we liked. That we trusted. Guess that's because he had less freedom than even we did, we knew he wasn't one of them. We didn't know he had the device controlling him."

"He would have rescued you." Tony hears Barnes' whisper. "He would have. If he'd ever had the chance."

Lydia looks at him. "I know."

Barnes is sitting on the floor, metal arm held tight across his chest. "Everything okay with the arm, Barnes?"

"Yeah Stark, it's fine."

"You have to wear an arm for the rest of your life. Might as well be honest."

Barnes sighs. "Now that I'm wearing it? It's heavy. Pulls down on my side, hurting my back."

Tony nods, "easy fix. When we get back home, we'll get that worked out."

"Steve first." Barnes says harshly.

Tony's head pulls back a bit at the vehemence, "yeah, yeah of course. Rogers first."

—

Even having only seen Rogers once in person, Tony can tell that what Lydia is saying is correct. When he wakes the next morning, he stands rigidly. His muscles tight and pulling through the long sleeve shirt and jacket he's dressed in.

"Asset, relax" Lydia tries. No dice. "Asset, describe malfunction."

Roger's throat bobs, his jaw flexes, and his eyes get tighter. He doesn't speak. The panic in Lydia's eyes is matched in Barnes'.

"Can't we get him some ibuprofen?" Barton asks. His eyes on Rogers. "Help the guy out?"

Then Barnes, seemingly without thought as his eyes are still glued to Rogers' face, "It won't work. His metabolism is too fast."

"I'll have the stuff I use for you." Tony says quickly, "It's coming with the rest."

"Steve's metabolism is even faster than mine. Burns everything off too fast. It will need to be stronger."

Tony bites the insides of his cheek, "that would take weeks to synthesize. He'll have to make due. It should still take the edge off."

Barnes' nods, his eyes still on Rogers.

—-

They endure one more day. The surgery is scheduled for the next day, so they wait in the apartment until then. Tony sits on the small couch, twirling his phone in his hands as he watches the mental breakdown of one James Buchanan Barnes.

"Steve?" He tries for the 16th time. Rogers still flinches. Barnes' face still falls. Guy is persistent. Tony will give him that.

"Asset?" Tony watches in fascination as Barnes tries a new approach. Rogers' eyes show a flare of acknowledgement before falling blank again. "Asset, can I place my hand on your shoulder?"

Rogers doesn't respond. And Lydia sighs. "You're acting like he has a choice in the answer of that question."

"Of course he has a choice with whether I touch him or not!"

"He hasn't for the last 60 years."

"Well." Barnes snarls. "I won't add another second to that."

Lydia stands up, her fists clenched and eyes flashing dangerously, "You want to tell me what you mean by that?"

"I mean, just because he hasn't had a choice doesn't mean you should be touching him and taking advantage of him!"

Lydia's quick, but she's forgetting that Barnes' is enhanced. Her kick misses his leg and he dodges the punches she throws, catching her fists and dragging her up to him. She lands a bone thudding knee against his chest but his stare he just hardens as his grip tightens in her wrists, holding her in place. She wraps her legs around his waist and tries to twist.

"Lydia. Enough!" Natasha shouts. "You can't win. He and I have trained together. He knows all your moves."

Something flashes in her eyes and she goes completely limp, causing her weight to pull Barnes' forward, then she wraps her legs around his ankles and yanks, flipping him onto his back and freeing her wrists. She scrambles up and stares at him.

She looks at Natasha and her eyebrow raises, "too bad he didn't train you." She says motioning to Rogers. "Maybe you'd have stood a chance against this guy." She points to Barnes. "He taught me that when I was 8." She says with a smile, "How to use my small size against a bigger opponent."

Tony doesn't expect those words to mean anything. Except… they must because Barnes' mouth screws up, his eyes go red, and his face turns anguished. He lays on his back, his metal arm resting against his chest as he breathes heavily. Tony watches in complete shock as tears begin to leak out of his now tightly clenched eyelids.

The room is quiet. Except the sound of Barnes' deep pulls of air. Tony can tell he's trying not to sob out loud. Lydia is staring in shock and so is Natasha. Tony glances up to Barton but Bartons' eyes aren't on Barnes' they're on Rogers.

Tony turns and steps back in surprise as Rogers walks past him. The first movement that hasn't been instructed.

Rogers kneels down by Barnes and he stares at the man still lying on his back. Tony watches Rogers swallow thickly, then reach out and gently wipe the moisture away from Barnes' face, using his thumbs, one under each eye. Barnes' eyes shoot open and go wide at the touch. But he lays still as Rogers' swipes under his eyes once more before turning his almost blank eyes to Lydia.

"Permission to assist."

The girl stares at Rogers in shock, but it morphs into a smile, "yes! Permission granted!"

Rogers extends a hand, waiting for Barnes to take it, who doesn't hesitate a second before doing so. Rogers' hauls Barnes to his feet, quickly dropping his hand.

"Watch." He says softly, then he points at Lydia. "Climb."

She stares at him. "Now?"

"Assist."

Lydia lets out a chuckle. "Okay."

She holds out her wrists and Tony watches in shock as Rogers' grabs them and pulls her close, replicating the move Barnes had done. Lydia wraps her legs around his waist and then Rogers looks at Barnes.

"To avoid being pulled down, keep feet uneven." He adjusts his stance, and then nods at Lydia. "Attempt."

Lydia's smile is wide as she deftly tries to replicate the move she just pulled on Barnes. But Steve's wider and asymmetrical stance makes it more difficult. Rogers then lets go of Lydia's wrists, and in one swift move, grabs her waist and pulls her up, twisting her and tucking her under his arm. Restraining her wrists in one hand and ankles in another and using his strength to keep her tightly held.

"Understand?" Rogers asks, looking at Barnes.

"Yeah, Steve, I understand." His voice is raw and in awe as Rogers nods and releases Lydia.

She looks around at everyone in the room and practically glows, "that's him! This is him!" She turns and squeezes Rogers' arm and smiles. "I missed that. I missed learning from you."

Barton speaks first out of their stunned group, "what just happened."

Lydia leans her head against Rogers' shoulder. "We weren't supposed to cry. If they saw us cry, it usually meant we would get taken out of the program." The way she says 'taken out of the program' makes Tony think she really means 'taken out back and shot'. Natasha's face confirms that for him. "He didn't know that at first. I remember watching him take a girl who was crying to a trainer to tell her that she wasn't ready. We never saw her again. Fresh mound of dirt outside. Wasn't hard to put two and two together." She pauses, looking at Rogers sadly. "He figured that out pretty quickly too. After that, if, during training, we got hurt, or overwhelmed or anything, if we ever cried, he," she motions to Rogers, "would wipe our tears away as deftly and quickly as he could without them being seen. Sometimes, he would even overpower us and get us in a hold that would tuck and hide our faces, giving us a chance to compose ourselves." Her voice gets a bit raw and for the first time Tony sees the little 7 year old girl who had to fight her way to stay alive, and Rogers was a part of that. "He saved a lot of our lives just that way."

Barnes has his head in his hands and Tony can see the grip he has on his own skull.

Tony watches as Rogers stands there, silent and eyes back to being crinkled in pain.

Lydia steps forward and rests a hand on Barnes' shoulder. "I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. I'm just protective of him, like he was of me." She pauses looking at Rogers. "He wiped your tears. That means he thinks you're one of his, something to be saved. That's good enough for me." Barnes looks up and the anguish on his face is clear.

"He wants to save me?"

Lydia shrugs, "if what you said is true, he doesn't remember that he's the one who needs to be saved."

A beep on Tony's phone interrupts. "Okay." Tony says, looking at his phone. "Let's go. The team will be waiting"

—-

The Asset

The mission cries. He lays on the floor and he cries. The Asset remembers what happens to spiders who cry. He doesn't know what happens to missions who cry. But he doesn't want to take a chance. So he follows the internal protocol he set long ago.

Then he informs the mission on how to avoid falling and crying next time. The mission seems to accept this information. Good.

—-

The Asset is instructed to follow them into a vehicle that takes them to a medical building.

He starts to feel trepidation as they walk into an empty hallway and bring him to a room that he doesn't like the smell of.

But he's ordered to change and get into a bed. He complies.

Only once he's wheeled into a room where the voice starts to shake and scream against the wall of his mind does he decide that maybe he can't follow these orders. Not surgery. Not again.

Surgery always means pain. Always means more orders. More cold. More missions. Less voice.

His mind throbs, spiking pain and making him double over. He stares at his arm where something is poking his skin. He reaches over to rip it out when a metal arm stops him. "Don't."

"Requesting Permission to go back to my cell."

The voice attached to the hand that holds his shakes as it responds. "Permission denied."

"Asset requests permission to not undergo surgery."

It's dangerous. It's dangerous to question what the vagues are doing, to try to change their plans. He blames his overstepping on the shouting voice and mind numbing pain. He can't think.

"No, Steve, you have to. We have to get the shrapnel out, the device." The voice is still shaky. He looks up and finds the eyes of his mission staring at him. The expression is not a happy one. The Asset knows he's in trouble for trying to go against direct orders.

The vagues, new vagues, not ones the Asset recognizes, buzz around him and touch him. The Asset notices the difference of how these vagues gently poke and prod instead of intentionally causing discomfort.

The Asset looks down and nods.

The mission lets go of the Asset's hand and places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry Steve. I wish we could do this with your permission, I wish you could have a choice. I promise, whatever it takes. This will be the last thing forced on you ever. Ever. You hear me? I swear to it."

The Asset stares at the mission. The voice falls quiet. The Asset feels his eyes get heavy.

The Asset blinks slowly. Someone is counting. The Asset sleeps.

—-