The dog…Boney…was back in bed with him when he woke. It had insinuated itself under the Korean blanket and had stretched out along his shins. It didn't wait to be poked, however, and jumped down without prompting as soon as he sat up. The rest had finally allowed his body to start to heal. He was still generally sore, and had yet to recover all of his strength, but it was a vast improvement compared to the last few days. He recognized the feeling in his belly as hunger, and he wondered with some lingering anxiety how long he'd been asleep this time.
He found that some shoes had been left beside the door, and he put them on. They were strange after wearing standard-issue boots, but they seemed stable and protective enough after he'd tied the laces. Boney had been waiting in the doorway. When the dog saw him stand, it padded down the hallway in the opposite direction of the bathroom, and nosed through a swinging door. There was a hum of noise as the door opened that silenced abruptly as it closed. He wasn't confident about leaving the bedroom, even though Ron had said there were no restrictions. But he followed the dog.
Directive Two: EVADE CAPTURE
Exterior room. Dimensions: 70-foot street frontage, 50 feet wide. Two points of entry, unsecured double doors at each, frontage side. One-way exit door on north side, south side abutting next building. Securable door to origin point. No windows. No visible roof access. Possible cover behind service counter. Forty-one occupants, civilian.
The smell of food that washed over him made his stomach leap and his mouth water. People, mostly men, sat at long tables, conversing over plates and bowls of food. A few rose to carry used utensils to one end of the metal counter that spanned one long side of the room. One man slouched back in his chair with a baseball cap perched over his face, obviously asleep. Another spoke loudly to no one, his speech punctuated with passionate hand motions.
Ron was at one of the double doors. He came over right away. "Back to the living, I see. I was just letting Boney out. I'll throw some scraps at him later. I bet you're ready to eat now, though?" He gestured to a seat that was somewhat apart from the others, at the same table with the sleeping man. "Come sit down over here, I'll bring you some eats." Then Ron bent down and said more quietly, "I've told the staff to leave you alone for now. Food service will be over in about an hour, and this place will clear out. If you need to leave, you don't have to say anything, just go through the same door you came in."
As Ron left and headed toward the counter, he kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop. A few minutes later, Ron returned with a plate of food and a large glass of milk. "Let's try something simple to start with," he said. "Peas and some mashed potatoes, and meatloaf. Well, this meatloaf isn't world-class or anything. It looks like crap, but I've declared it edible. Go ahead and eat. If you want more, let me know."
The meatloaf looked like a vaguely familiar slab of protein before it had been liquefied into his standard ration. Once Ron had given permission to eat, he lifted a bit with the fork. The taste took him by complete surprise. He sat motionless with his eyes closed and held the first bite in his mouth for a while as the savory taste traveled over his tongue. He let out a slow breath that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Ron chuckled. "That was almost a smile! Best endorsement I've ever had for that recipe."
He made a silent promise that he would not scream or cry or do anything that annoyed the handlers during the punishment that was coming for resisting surrender, if only HYDRA would let him keep this memory of how meatloaf tasted.
After the second swallow, he didn't bother with the fork.
When food service had finished, Ron came back with several paper napkins, and laughing, told him to wipe his face and hands. Everyone except the sleeping man had departed.
Directive Two: EVADE CAPTURE
Unknown male: Six feet, zero inches, body habitus indeterminate due to multiple layers of clothing.
Threat Estimate: Undetermined. Possibly minimal.
Neutralization plan: Metal chair across head while recumbent. Opportunistic strike with prosthetic arm.
"Oh, he's here a lot," Ron said, following his glance. "Half the time he doesn't even want to eat, just grabs some winks here where it's safe. Do you feel like talking? I have some questions, and I'm sure you have some too."
He wasn't sure whether he could communicate, but didn't understand why it mattered if he felt like it. He would try because HYDRA had questions. He couldn't look at Ron, but he nodded.
"All right." Ron thought for a moment. "Do you remember your name?"
Name? Rank…service number? The words rose like some sort of painless automatic programming, then dissipated almost as soon as they came. He hesitated and shook his head.
"Do you remember the helicarrier?"
He remembered everything that had happened on the helicarrier, it just didn't always make sense. He'd followed intelligence and tracked his target to the launch site, neutralized hostile personnel en route, and visually plotted his path to the carrier's inner core deck. A man in a self-propelled flight harness had attempted to stop him; he'd rendered that threat inoperative as well. Then he noticed Kaptain Amerika attempting operations on the core. But the target existed as a strange double image, even though he'd had no head injury at the time. He was Kaptain Amerika and…someone else. Someone smaller, more childlike. It had rattled him so much that he could not completely follow through on his calculated neutralization plan. He had struck, but was surprised when the blows had not possessed lethal force. He had shot, but had failed to cluster the bullets properly on vital spots. He even had the chip that his enemy had been defending with his life in his possession. Even with a broken arm, even unconscious, he would never have released it. He would have thrown it from the carrier first.
The target had actually lifted the fallen girders from his crushed legs, and he'd attempted to finish his mission. But then…I'm with you till the end of the line. What did that… Why? He'd tried to complete the mission, really tried. He'd even beaten Kaptain Amerika unconscious, but the double image had persisted through the punches and the blood. One was Kaptain Amerika and the other was…Steve?
Ron said, "It's all right. I can see from your face that there's more going on than you can say. If that happens and you just can't answer, tap on the table three times. And remember, you can always go back to the bedroom if it gets to be too much."
His right hand was shaking. He curled his fingers into his palm and gave three soft raps.
"Still with me? Ok. This isn't a mapped alternate rendezvous point. How did you know to come here?"
Ron had found him in the alley, and given him food. It was likely that SHIELD would have attempted immediate apprehension, and civilians would have simply called local law enforcement. Neither had happened. Only a HYDRA agent would have left him alone with orders where to go if he needed additional assistance. He'd been in so much pain from his injuries and from resisting the third directive that he didn't remember exactly how he'd gotten to the soup kitchen. He gave a small shrug, shaking his head.
"Do you want to try to ask me anything?"
He did, but he wasn't sure how. Words buzzed and tumbled between his brain and his mouth, creating fragments of of Russian and English and garbled emptiness that no speech could fill. Finally he focused as hard as he could and pointed a finger at Ron. "Steve?" he asked, his voice sounding strange and small.
Ron looked startled. "Do I know Steve Rogers?"
He pressed his lips together and nodded, expecting at least a slap, even though he'd been given permission to ask.