First of all, many many thanks for the lovely reviews and faves and follows. I'm honestly blown away by it all. Bucky is going through, what i call 'the wars' in this chapter, ie through hell. Bucky's memories and internal thoughts are in italics. All errors are my own and unintentional. As always, thoughts/reviews appreciated.

Chapter Five.

I'm a terrifying danger…

Gabe looks at his sister in disbelief.

"How can he not know?"

"Because if he did, then he'd deny it whether it was true or not. Isn't that the first reaction when you ask someone what drug they're withdrawing from?"

The scratch in the back of his hand, the meds that are supposed to keep him calm and obedient. Maybe it's that. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything. It was more than his life's worth to ask. To question was to be ignored or punished. He learned not to ask. Was conditioned to do as he was told and not to ask questions but whatever it was that they gave him, it's making him sick.

He doesn't get sick. Not like this. Part of his conditioning.

"It makes sense now…how he was earlier… the behaviour patterns…"

Bucky looks at Alex, curious now.

Behaviour patterns? What's she talking about?

"He was fading in and out. When he said he didn't remember how he injured his shoulder or how long ago, perhaps he doesn't."

Oh. That.

He remembers the how and kinda the why, just doesn't really remember the who.

He wants to remind them both that he's sitting right there. He doesn't like that they talk about him like this, like he's unimportant.

'Prep him'

'But he's been out of cryo for too long'

'Wipe him, then start over'

'But I knew him'

"Stop it!" he interrupts, all of a sudden irritated by them, by it all and they both stop talking and look at him. "I'm right here," he whispers.

He feels cold all of a sudden, his skin prickles with it and it makes him hunch his shoulders, feeling a shiver tremble up his spine. He turns his head when he feels the mattress give beside him and looks into Alex's blue eyes.

"Sorry," she murmurs. He watches as she looks away, reaches behind her and pulls something towards her. She has a blanket in her hands which she slowly, carefully drapes across his shoulders. "We didn't mean to do that. You don't remember, do you?" she continues. He looks at her for what feels like a long time before looking away.

He'll have to explain the why and he doesn't trust them enough to see if they'd believe him or not.

"It'd help in how we could treat you," Gabe adds. Bucky stares down at his hands again, sees how they still tremble. Doesn't reply. Hears him sigh at his reluctance.

"I gotta get going Alex, I have an early start and I want to head home for a shower and something to eat before heading in."

Bucky slowly lifts his head and watches as Alex gets to her feet and approaches her brother. Watches them embrace.

'Don't do anything stupid until I get back'

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

'You're a punk'

'Jerk. Be careful.'

Be careful of what, he wonders.

He lowers his head to stare at his lap again, lifts a hand to rub at his forehead once more. That voice again. Sounds like the man on the bridge, the man with the shield on the Heli-Carrier who swears he knows him, that he's his friend. He still doesn't understand how. He frowns against the headache that begins to brew, as if that'll drive it back.

"Hey." A shadow appears in front of him that makes the breath catch in the back of his throat and jerk back. "Sorry," the voice apologises and he looks up into her eyes again.

"It's okay," he murmurs, lowering his hand and then shaking his head.

"I'm just going to let Gabe out of the building, I'll be gone all of five minutes okay?" she explains and sees him nod just the once. She frowns slightly as she scans his face.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep?" she suggests.

He just shakes his head. "Can't. Wide awake," he answers in a low voice.

"Okay. Well, give me a few minutes and I'll be back and we can talk if you want to?" He shrugs one shoulder.

"Maybe."

She gets the impression it's the last thing he wants to do.

Alex unlocks the front door and looks at Gabe.

"I'll be okay," she tells him, recognising how he looks at her, the slight frown between his eyes.

"So you keep telling me."

"And I will be. Stop worrying."

"The day I stop worrying is the day I stop being your big brother."

"I've dealt with much worse."

"Yeah and much worse almost killed you once, don't you ever forget about that," Gabe whispers back and Alex's eyes blink wide at his candour, she'll never ever forget about that. She hugs him instead.

"Be safe," she hears him whisper against her ear. She draws back and smiles at him and she just nods.

"Don't worry," she assures him and then opens the door. The cool pre-dawn air surrounds and embraces her, the sun is just making an appearance, beginning to colour the sky a lighter blue.

"Easier said than done. Any problems then call me at work, someone will page me."

"I will," she promises and his gaze sharpens on her face.

"You'd better."

She widens her eyes "And I said that I will. Jeez, go to work why don't you, give a girl some peace!" she huffs out but her eyes twinkle all the same. Gabe grins and draws her into his arms for another hug.

"I'll talk to you soon, alright?" He lets go of her, scans her face one more time.

"Okay. Have a good day," she replies obediently and watches him walk away, disappearing into the early morning shadows, waving one time before he disappears.

She lets herself back into the apartment.

"It's just me Bucky," she calls into the silence as she comes through the door. As she closes it and turns the lock, she sees him in the doorway of his room. The blanket is still wrapped around his shoulders. He is ghastly pale, verging on grey and slightly hunched over. Her eyes widen in alarm and she hurries over to him. She reaches out to slide an arm across his back, intending to lead him back to bed but he shies away, taking a deliberate step away from her.

"No," he tells her, his voice low, rusty and she frowns at him as she lowers her arm.

"The best place for you right now is in bed," she tells him in a low voice. He glances her way and then shakes his head and she watches as he shuffles over to the window, putting a hand on the windowsill to brace himself.

"Can't," he mumbles, head bent, shoulders hunched. She goes to him, standing by his shoulder.

"Why?"

"Hurts. It all…hurts," he mutters.

She quietly sighs and reaches for him, gently placing her hands on his arms and she feels his wince. Muscle pain, dry heaving, sweating…

She has a few ideas of what could be causing him to feel like this, none of them any good and recovery will take a while if she's right.

"Come on, sit down before you fall down," she gently urges him and directs him towards his bed, surprised when he complies. He slowly sits down on the side of it, moving stiffly and cautiously like an old man. She sits down beside him.

"I don't know what's goin' on…" His voice is low.

"Do you remember taking anything that would make you feel like this?" she asks him and slowly he turns his head and he looks at her.

"No."

But she sees how he looks down at his right hand, more to the point at the back of it. It piques her interest; he knows something but she gets the impression that he isn't exactly quite sure what it is. A blood sample would identify whatever it is but she doubts he would consent and getting it somewhere to be analysed anonymously would be problematic, too many awkward questions asked.

"Perhaps we can treat the symptoms instead. Like I said yesterday, ice and heat are good for muscle pain. Your muscles are aching, right?"

Bucky just nods.

"Then we'll use heat to begin with. I'll fill a hot water bottle for you and you can hold it against where it hurts the most and see if it helps. Will you at least try that?"

He turns his head slightly in her direction. Another nod.

"Good," she murmurs and gets to her feet and heads off to hunt out her hot water bottle.

He slowly turns his head in her direction when he hears footsteps approaching. She has something in her arms, wrapped in a towel. He watches as she lowers herself down onto the bed beside him once more.

"I've wrapped it so it doesn't burn you. Why don't you get back into bed? Even if you can't sleep you could try and relax with this." She lifts the wrapped package. He stares at her for a long moment.

"You're already tense because of the pain which won't help matters, at least now you can lie back down and I'll put this wherever you're hurting the most, your stomach, your back, legs, shoulder…"

"Why?" he interrupts impatiently, "Why are you doing this?"

She blinks at the vehemence she hears.

"Doing what? Helping you? I've already told you, it's what I do."

"But why? You don't know me, you don't know anything about me. For all you know, I could be everything your brother is worried that I am." He shakes his head, feeling irritation claw at him, leaving needle sharp barbs in his skin.

Alex doesn't answer immediately, instead she just looks at him. "Are you?"

'You are to to be the new fist of Hydra.'

'Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century.'

The voices again. So many damned voices and he doesn't really recognise any of them. He screws his eyes tightly shut for a moment.

'You're my mission!' Screaming at him, not wanting to or not ready to accept what he's telling him as fact.

His eyes burst open on a gasp. Remembers seeing him below him, bruised, bloody and bleeding. Did he do that?

'Then finish it, cause I'm with you til the end of the line.'

"Bucky?"

He snaps his head around and she sees the distress, the tears that rim the bottom of his eyes. They're wide, frantic almost.

"I don't want to be," he admits in a rough whisper. She takes a deep breath and reaches across and takes his right hand, wrapping her fingers around his, feeling the chilled clammy skin. He doesn't retreat from the contact, she doesn't think he's really aware of what she's doing. She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay," she whispers back though she can feel hear her heart begin a slow pound as once more she wonders who he is, this stranger she all but scooped off the ground and offered aid and a place of safety to.

"Right now I want you to get back into bed and lie down and try to get comfortable and we'll figure out what works for you and what doesn't, okay?" She waits for him to acknowledge her and finally he does, nodding very slightly. She lets go of his hand as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders and gets back into bed. She gets to her feet at the same time, watching as he lies down on his side, facing the room. She crouches down and he looks into her eyes.

"Where do you want this?" she asks him.

He slowly blinks. "Stomach," he whispers. She leans forward and carefully places it up against his abdomen, watching his right arm curl over it to keep it close.

"Your shoulder…"

"It's fine, it doesn't hurt anymore," he murmurs. She frowns at this. He should be wearing the sling for a day or two more but he's been moving it freely and seemingly without feeling any kind of discomfort. She watches as he closes his eyes. It then occurs to her that the bruises that marked his face yesterday have disappeared completely.

His eyes open when he hears footsteps. He listens for a second before he pushes back the blanket and slides out of bed. He ignores how his stomach cramps, how his other muscles protest as he moves, stealth-like to his bedroom door. It's been left partially open and he stands there for a second and continues to listen. He hears nothing out of the ordinary but the back of his neck prickles in warning.

Danger. Compromised. Be careful.

He straightens when he hears slow heavy footsteps outside the apartment and he moves silently to the right of the front door of the apartment, his eyes scoping out the kitchen and the living room as he passes them by. Sees nothing. He hears the door give a click and begin to swing open and he presses himself as flat as possible and waits. As the door widens, Bucky lunges.

He grabs the man entering the apartment around his throat with his left hand and he hauls him into the apartment. He kicks the door shut and he slams him up against the wall, lifting him until the tip of his toes scrape the floor. The man stares at him in fright, gasping for breath.

"What… the… hell…" he hisses out, choking as Bucky tightens his grip.

"Who sent you?" Bucky demands. The man widens his eyes. He's tall, blond, muscular. A face glitches in his memory, coming clearly into focus for a second. Bucky stares at him in surprise seeing the face superimpose itself over the man's.

"Steve?" he whispers.

"No... Callum," the man gasps, one hand coming around the metal one that's threatening to crush his windpipe.

Just like that the face he sees flickers and vanishes, disappearing into the static.

"Bucky? What…what the hell do you think you're doing?"

He hears Alex's voice from behind him and she hurries to his left hand side, reaching for his metal arm, hands going around the wrist and giving it an ineffectual tug. "Bucky, this is Callum, who lives downstairs. He's okay…let go of him!" she tells him, giving his arm another tug. She then rams an elbow into his side and he grunts at the sudden sharp pain and releases his grip on him. The man gives a loud noisy wheeze and almost falls over, would have if Alex hadn't grabbed him.

"What the hell man?" Callum rasps out, rubbing his throat. Alex stands in front of him and turns and glares at Bucky.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she hisses at him. She sees how he gives her a look of confusion as he begins to sway on his feet, his eyes sliding shut.

"Damn it!" she curses as she lunges towards him, sliding an arm across his back, pulling his arm across her shoulders as his legs give out from under him. She staggers beneath his weight and then sees Callum come to Bucky's other side and grab his other arm and pull it across his shoulders. Together they haul him back to his room and put him back to bed. Alex rolls him onto his side, once more facing the room and tucks the blankets around him again. Bucky's eyes flutter open, fixing on her face for a moment.

"Sorry," he murmurs. Alex crouches down by his bedside and brushes an errant strand of hair from over his eyes. He's still a little cold to the touch, his skin clammy and sticky.

"We'll talk a little bit later, okay? Try and rest. I'll get you a fresh hot water bottle." She reaches down and picks it up off the floor where it's obviously dropped when he climbed out of bed. She looks at Callum but her expression is carefully blank. She sees how he looks back at Bucky, where he's lying absolutely motionless in bed before he follows her out.

"That's the guy you found beside the dumpster yesterday?" he whispers as he follows Alex into her kitchen.

"That's Bucky, yes," she confirms as she goes to fill a tea kettle with water and puts it on the stove, switching it on. She glances at him over one shoulder.

"I'm sorry about before, he's sick, got a touch of the flu," she apologises and sees his eyes widen in mild disbelief as his hand comes up to massage his throat which has a nasty looking red mark around it.

"For having a touch of flu he has a wicked strong grip."

Alex gives a shrug. "You know how it is with viruses like that; he's running a fever, suffering from hallucinations, sees things, imagines things."

"I can believe that, he wanted to know who sent me and then he called me Steve," Callum tells her and Alex slowly turns to look at him, her expression becoming speculative.

"Really? Did he say anything else?"

Callum just shakes his head. "No. Actually he asked if I was Steve, got the strangest look on his face for a brief second before he sort of phased out and then you showed up when you did, thank God."

"Yeah. I didn't even hear him get out of bed." She feels herself blush when he raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I've been keeping an eye on him…not like you…think. Never mind." She smiles self-consciously and shakes her head slightly, "Would you like to stay for coffee?" she invites instead.

"Normally I would love to but believe it or not, this was just a flying visit before your ninja soldier decided to go all special ops on me. I didn't even see him standing there until he grabbed me. Scared the crap outta me. Connor said he was squirrelly, he wasn't kidding," he breathes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else I can say. I'm sure he'll apologise to you when he's more…lucid."

Callum shakes his head. "No, I get it. Your newspapers incidentally are probably in a heap beside your front door. That was the purpose of my visit, that and to see how your newest case was getting along. Mission accomplished on both accounts I think." He grins at her.

"You're being awfully cool about all of this Cal," she tells him, grateful for his understanding and sees him shrug.

"Yeah, well what you do is cooler, helping people the way you do." He watches how she bites her lip and smiles somewhat shyly. She isn't comfortable with being reminded of what she does or why. Below the radar is how she prefers to operate.

"You're welcome. Look, I don't know when I'll be able to help out downstairs, it might be a few days before Bucky is on his feet."

"Take your time and you know I'm downstairs if you need an extra pair of hands. I could call by tonight once the bar closes up if you want me to?" he suggests.

"I should be okay but thanks. Gabe stayed over last night to help out, I'm hoping Bucky'll be a bit more settled tonight."

God she hopes so, she needs the rest herself.

Callum heads out as the tea kettle boils and she refills the hot water bottle and wraps it back in the towel. She also fills a glass with water and carries both into Bucky's room.

He's restless, tossing and turning and shivering, his legs cycling somewhat restlessly beneath the blankets. His eyes pop open and he goes absolutely still when he hears her approach. She places the water on the bedside cabinet and then crouches down by his bedside again, waiting until he makes eye contact.

"Here," she tells him, carefully peeling the blanket away from his body and slotting the hot water bottle back in. He holds it close to his body but she sees how anxious he is.

"Still hurting?" she asks even though she knows that he is.

"Yeah," he mutters, and she can hear the strain in his answer. He clenches his teeth together and gives a low quiet moan, his eyes closing. He's close to unravelling once more.

She reaches across and puts her hand on his shoulder. He goes tense and still but she carefully slides her hand down to his elbow and back again in slow, gentle strokes.

"Breathe with me Bucky," she invites, keeping her tone soft. She takes a slow deep breath and holds it and sees how his eyes slide open and he watches her. She mentally counts to five and then she slowly exhales. His eyes never leave her face.

"Again, take a slow deep breath in and hold." As she slides her hand up and down from his elbow to his shoulder, she sees how his chest fills, expands and she quietly counts to five. "And exhale," she tells him and he does. They do this several times and gradually she feels the tension that quivers inside of him begin to ease off.

"This will pass, you have to remember that Bucky. You feel like hell now but it'll pass, I'm just not sure when. You're gonna have to tough it out for now," she whispers. He doesn't reply but his eyes don't leave her face, not for a moment.

"And I'll try to help you however I can."