The Soldier stared at the door bemusedly. What was Bane playing at? Locking him in with this woman. Yes she was stunning but he wasn't overrun by hormones and his self control was that he wasn't going to be tempted by her. But judging from her angry screeching, he figured that if he was going anywhere near her, she was going to rip his metal arm off and beat him with it. When she calmed down, she stormed off towards the bedroom and he was about to follow the doctor but stopped when he heard running water.
Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, the Soldier looked at the couch and laid on it. A bit tight, he was a touch too tall to comfortably stretch out, but no matter. He slept in worst places before. The Soldier heard water being turned off and several minutes later the squeaking of the bed when the doctor threw herself down on it.
Later the Soldier woke to a blazing sunset and the doctor staring pensively out of the window. She wore the same scrubs she was wearing before but her hair was still wet and she smelled like a rainstorm over a field of spices.
"Hungry?" She asked at last. At his nod, she went to the fridge. "If you can throw knives, you can peel potatoes." She pulled various things from the fridge and the two of them got to work making a dinner. Some old muscle memory helped him handle each potato with ease, peeling them as expertly as a sous chef. His long fingers quickly turning and flicking the knife easily. He passed the finished potato to the doctor and they fell into a rhthym.
Sitting down for dinner, the Soldier noticed that Dr. Delalune made the sign of the cross and mutter a quick prayer. "You're Catholic?" He asked. "Yes, born and raised," she said proudly. He nodded, "I-someone I knew-me? Was Catholic. But I don't remember." He frowned struggling to piece something, anything together from the tatters of his memory. Placing her fork down, the surgeon looked at him and asked, "How long have you had these memory problems?"
"Don't know, since I woke up I guess."
"Woke up?"
"Yes from cryogenia."
Slowly she leaned back. "How many times have you 'woken' up?"
"I don't remember."
"Who are you?" She whispered.
"I don't remember."