Welcome to part 2 of... potentially 5? (I'll try). Take care of yourselves out there, lovely humans :)
oOoOoOo
"A good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness." - Elsa Schiaparelli
oOoOoOo
The man on the screen made it look so easy.
Asset thought he was a lying liar who lied.
He whisked the eggs in his well of flour with a little more vigour, his metal arm whirring and clicking. He squinted down at the floppy mixture in front of him. Felt his left eye twitch.
"Your dough should pull into a shaggy ball, not too dry, not too wet."
Asset grunted. Sorcery was at work here. There was no way the man on the Youtube had really turned his eggs and flour into that.
Frustrated, he furrowed his brow, dragged his flesh finger across the screen to rewind the video. Maybe he had missed something. "Show me how to make the pasta, magic man," he muttered darkly.
"You going okay there, bro?"
If Asset had had any less combat training, he would have jumped through the ceiling. As it was, his hand startled the slightest bit straight through the flour, sending it drifting in a cloud around his face.
"The man lies," he said, glaring at Aiden, who had waltzed into the kitchen and was leaning his elbows casually against the bench, chin resting on his hands.
Aiden tutted. Asset thought it might have been what Eliza called sarcasm. "How dare he."
Asset just grunted in return, fighting back a sudden tickling sensation between his eyes. He felt his face scrunch up and his eye twitch again.
"You sure you're alright?"
I'm fine, Asset went to reply, but instead of words coming out, he pulled in a large gust of involuntary air and pushed it back out with an explosion that forced his eyes closed and his body to very minorly (violently) jump in fright. His head felt fuzzy, and he sniffed. Sniffed again.
Ow.
Aiden chuckled, hiding his mouth with his hand. "Bless you."
"Bless you, too."
Aiden looked like he wanted to say something, or at least laugh louder (Asset seemed to elicit that reaction in him often) but he pulled himself under control at the last second and just smiled fondly. "Thanks. Appreciate it."
Asset nodded, turning his attention back to his disaster pasta.
Disaster pasta. He felt his lips twitch into a small smile and thought he might want to laugh, too.
Strange.
"I am trying to cook you and Eliza pasta. Internet said it was Good," he explained to his not-so-shaggy, not-so-doughy dough. He frowned. "It is not working. I am sorry."
"Hey, don't sweat it, man. For what it's worth, I reckon I can save it. We'll finish it together. And it's the thought that counts, right?"
"Thoughts without follow through are unnecessary."
"Unnecessary… riight. Um. Okay, I guess?"
"But I would thank you for helping me." He sent a scathing glare at the screen. "You are more helpful than magic man."
Aiden laughed, following Asset's glare towards the phone he had precariously set against a mixing bowl. "Yeah, he looks pretty sus, not gonna lie."
Asset did not know what sus looked like, but he was glad to have Aiden's approval.
Magic man was now rolling his perfect dough into a perfect rectangle.
Asset sighed. "Damn it."
He didn't realise he had muttered it out loud until Aiden looked up at him with surprise. "Anyone ever tell you, you got a bit of Brooklyn in you sometimes?" Aiden poked him in the metal shoulder, teasing.
Asset blinked. "I have never been to Brooklyn."
"Huh. Weird."
Speaking of weird, Asset looked down at his metal hand, noting the not-quite-right-definitely-weird dough gunked up through all the tiny grooves. "Uh…" he trailed off, looking to Aiden, lost.
He laughed. Loudly. Asset frowned.
"Oh, don't pout, old man," Aiden grinned. "Your hand's not the only thing going on right now." He gestured vaguely to Asset's facial region.
Asset raised a cautious hand to the rough hair covering his jaw. "What has happened?"
"Nothing terribly horrendous," Aiden assured him, still laughing. "Just a case of Santa Clause."
Asset tilted his head. The voice was very faint, but he thought he heard it tell him fat red man. Coca Cola. This confused him greatly. "I am fat?"
"No," Aiden's eyes were glowing with amusement. "I meant the beard. You've got flour all through it."
Asset ran his hand across his beard again, noticing the tangles and snags and… yes. The tell-tale consistency of wet flour. Lovely (sarcasm. Not like his blankets. Eliza would be proud, he thought).
"Do you want to just shave it off?" Aiden offered. "Surely it's itchy with how long it is." And with how often (read: never) you use the hose, went unsaid.
Asset was not sure. Aiden was correct; the beard was very itchy when he let himself think about it. But only in that mildly annoying way that he registered the obnoxiously loud blow-fly that had made the shed its home in the last few days. He shrugged.
"C'mon," Aiden said, gesturing his head towards the bathroom. "It won't take long."
Asset swallowed nervously. He did not want to go near the hose (even though by now he knew he really, really had to, ready to comply or not. Eliza had been scrunching her nose again).
He must have let some of the alarm show on his face, because Aiden immediately changed tact. "Or we can use my ensuite?"
Asset thought this sounded reasonable. And much nicer than the hose. He nodded and abandoned his sad floppy dough to follow Aiden down the hall.
Aiden set him up facing away from the mirror, standing next to the sink and facing him. This room was also tiled, grey and white, but had a cacophony of plants joining the ensemble. Even more than in the kitchen. (Asset did not know why Aiden didn't just go outside if he wanted to see plants, but he kept his mouth shut.) He noted that there was also a hose in one corner, and in another a white tub, but Aiden had made no move towards them, and Asset had released his breath, relieved.
Aiden held out a pair of scissors, gesturing for Asset to spin to face the mirror.
"I figured with it being as long as it is, we might need to cut it with scissors first. Would you prefer me to do it?"
Asset was immediately grateful for Aiden. For somehow knowing that trusting anyone- even him- with scissors, (so resembling the sharp blades of the knives he had under his shirt) near his neck was just not going to happen. "No," he answered. "I can do it."
He started hacking off chunks of coarse, tangled hair. Watched as his cheeks and chin became more visible through the matting.
"Hey, what do you know? There's a face under there and everything," Aiden joked, smiling at him in the mirror when he had cut off as much as he could. "Now's the fun bit."
Aiden spun him back around to face him. He pulled out a bottle labelled shaving cream and a plastic razor. He held the razor out for Asset's inspection.
"You can do this bit, too, if you'd prefer," Aiden offered.
Asset looked at the small razor in his hands. The blades were sharp, but not nearly as long as the scissors were. He took a deep breath.
Sharp jaw under his hands, a blade running down a neck- smooth and trusting, blue eyes.
"You do it," he breathed out before he lost his confidence.
Aiden nodded and wiped a warm, wet cloth over his face, then squeezed some of the shaving cream onto his palms, working it into a lather. "This might be a bit cold," he warned.
Asset nodded. Braced himself.
The cream was not nearly as cold as he had been expecting. Instead, it was an odd frothy sensation against his skin. He could even hear some of the tiny bubbles popping near his ears. He heard water start rushing in the sink, and then the warm razor was carefully scraping across his skin, Aiden's face creased in concentration.
Asset held himself as still as he could, not wanting to give Aiden any excuse to cut his neck, but Aiden's hands were steady and sure, and he worked quickly, clearly practiced. "Almost done," he muttered, reaching for the furthest edges of Asset's jaw. He nodded to himself and drew back, looking over Assets face carefully. "Perfect."
Asset turned his head over his shoulder to glimpse the mirror and did a double take, his eyes widening.
That was him.
He spun himself all the way around and moved closer to the mirror, prodding at his newly cleaned face with his fingertips. He felt like he was watching one of his dreams. He looked like him but also not. He didn't even realise that he knew what he looked like, that he had an expectation when he looked in the mirror that hadn't been getting met. Until now. His hair still hung limply around his shoulders, something that seemed not-quite-right, but that he didn't hate, and his eyes looked huge without the hair covering the lower part of his face.
"Looking good, old man," Aiden clapped him on the shoulder. "Does it feel better now?"
Asset ran his flesh hand wonderingly over the soft skin. "Yes."
Aiden chuckled. "I'm glad. Shall we go save your pasta from the magic man?"
[-]
The pasta was not-quite-saved, but Aiden and Eliza smiled all the way through eating it anyway.
And Asset thought maybe, sometimes, it was the thought that counted, after all.
[-]
"How do you feel about small fluffy animals?" was how Eliza greeted him, bursting into the shed and dumping her patchwork bag on the floor by the bed.
Asset looked up at her from his spot on the floor. He had one blanket around his shoulders, another in front of him, where just a minute ago his knives had been laid out carefully after sharpening them.
Asset was glad Eliza had not come home two minutes earlier. He did not think she would approve.
"They are inconsequential," he answered as truthfully as he could.
Eliza gasped, hand over her heart. "You can't say that! They're small. And fluffy!"
Asset just shrugged. He supposed so, but small fluffy animals were rarely useful on missions. They were not part of protocol.
"Well, I was going to offer to introduce you to some, but if you're not going to care either way, I guess I'll just go by myself…" she trailed off, eyeing him like she knew she had him trapped.
Damn it.
Asset very much enjoyed doing anything Eliza liked. He had what Eliza called fun. He liked fun.
"Will it be fun?"
Eliza scoffed. "Will it be fun, he says. Of course, it'll be fun, dummy."
"Then I like small fluffy animals."
"Sure, you do."
[-]
Small fluffy animals were… small.
And fluffy.
And more specifically these particular small fluffy animals were- cats.
So, so many cats.
Asset was standing frozen in a sea of meowing creatures, nudging against his legs, and attacking his boots. He dared not move, torn between hissing back at the demons and not wanting to squish the impossibly small things under his feet. He made frantic eye contact with Eliza, pleading silently to save him save him save him.
She just laughed, and took out her phone, holding it up towards him.
Asset huffed.
"Awwe, you're so cute," she smiled down at the photo she had taken.
Asset glared.
"Oh hush, old man. Don't tell me your heart isn't melting right now."
Assets did not have hearts, but if they did, his would not be melting. He hissed down at a tabby cat that looked ready to eat his shoelace for dinner. They were his shoelaces, thank you very much.
But then-
Then.
A cat, small and apricot, impossibly clumsy on its feet, rolled onto its back right in front of him, exposing a soft belly. It blinked up at him slowly with one green eye, letting out a tiny mew. Asset stared. Blinked slowly back.
"Oh, he's in love," he distantly heard the cat shelter lady tell Eliza. Eliza squealed and clapped her hands, but Asset couldn't tear his eyes away from the small creature.
Slowly, slowly, slowly he crouched down and reached out one finger. The cat rolled over and nudged her head against it, nuzzling up to his wrist and arm. Asset was entranced. Her fur was softer than his softest blanket.
What on earth is that, Rebekah Barnes? A kitten, ma, I saved 'er. Large eyes, pouting lips. Please, please, pleeease?
The image made him blink. Bekka liked cats.
"Hi," he whispered.
Mew, said the cat.
Asset smiled.
[-]
"He called her Chips," Eliza said in despair over that night's pasta. Asset was getting better at uncovering magic man's secrets.
Aiden laughed, eyes straying to the small bundle of fur curled on Asset's shoulder. "It's as fair a name as any."
Asset nodded gratefully. Chips bit his ear.
"I'm just gonna be hungry every time I hear her name," Eliza grumbled, shovelling pasta into her mouth.
"You're always hungry," Asset noted. He ducked as a rogue piece of bread came sailing towards his head.
[-]
Chips, Asset decided, needed the perfect place to rest.
She had immediately developed a fondness for curling up on him, which made him feel warm and overtook him with the senseless urge to kiss her head over and over and over and hug her closer. But he was worried he might accidentally strangle her. He did not think being kissed and cuddled was good for an animal of such small structure.
"You rest here," he told her sternly, pulling her away from his neck and placing her on the nest of blankets he had piled up next to his own rest spot on the rug.
Chips clawed at his shirt, severely disagreeing with Asset's judgement, and meowed loudly in his ear.
"Fine, fine. Get squished, then, stupid cat." He let her scramble back to hide under his hair, partially beneath the collar of his hoodie.
He sighed.
But when he wrapped himself up in warmth and closed his eyes, he carefully- careful gentle gentle- lay on his side, Chips snuggled under his chin, determined not to move until the birds called the morning in.
[-]
Chips' singular green eye stared unblinking at Asset across the bench.
Asset stared back, squinting one eye shut to make it an even fight.
"You're not gonna beat the cat," Aiden drawled, pouring milk into his cereal.
Asset kept staring. His eye was starting to feel itchy. Chips looked unaffected. Asset felt his eyebrow twitch with the urge to blink.
No no no no no.
Dammit.
"Five, zero; Chips' way."
Asset swore he saw Chips smile smugly.
Punk.
[-]
Chips wanted to learn to cook, too. Asset could see it in her eyes. She sat on the bench next to him as he rolled dough and cut vegetables, occasionally walking through the flour and leaving paw prints across the bench.
Eliza called it unsanitary, but Asset washed Chips' paws before they started and Eliza liked his food, so Eliza could be quiet about such matters.
Today he was attempting something the magic man called Apple Pie. It was supposed to be Good. He thought Steve may have liked apples. If his Steve was the Steve was real. He still thought the voice was a lying liar who lied, but knowing the Steve in his head was still nice. Sad and far away in that way that not-real things always were. But nice. He did not think he wanted to forget his Steve again. Or his Bekka, or Aiden or Eliza.
Or Chips.
He looked down at where Chips was licking her butt, sprawled across the flour. He sighed.
That probably was mildly unsanitary.
He pushed her gently out of the way and wiped the bench again before rolling out his dough.
"It smells amazing in here," Eliza hummed, coming through the kitchen door with her plait wind-blown and her cheeks flushed. "I think I'll keep you around."
Asset blushed and looked down at his dough, continuing to roll it in smooth motions. "It might taste like cat hair," he admitted, shrugging towards Chips.
Eliza scrunched her nose. "Don't tell me that. I'll just be waiting to pull out a cat hair with every bite, now."
Asset smiled. Laughed softly.
Eliza's jaw dropped and she came closer to poke him in the side. "Was that a chuckle, old man? An honest to God chuckle?"
"Shut up," he mumbled, but couldn't help the smile tugging his lips.
"Happy looks good on you," Eliza was smiling brightly, watching his face.
Asset met her eyes, warm and brown. He didn't think he had ever been called happy before, but if this was it, he thought he liked it. Very much. "Happy looks good on you, too," he replied.
[-]
It was time.
Asset knew it.
Chips definitely knew it, if the way she had been refusing to curl up under his jumper was any indication.
Eliza and Aiden were too polite to mention that they knew it.
But it was time.
Asset breathed in deeply, clutching the towel in his hands in his metal hand. His arm whirred from the strain. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom with the hose.
He took a cautious step closer, grimacing. He could do this. The hose was not punishment. He was safe. Eliza said he was safe.
Rough hands, red skin, blood down the drain.
He ground his teeth together to stop them chattering. Ordered his mind to shut up.
He took another step, the floor felt unsteady.
"Asset?"
The voice caught him by surprise, he had not registered anyone else present.
Stupid.
He looked guiltily over his shoulder at Eliza, who was looking at him questioningly.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Asset swallowed. "Yeah," he forced out, word cracking embarrassingly into the hallway.
"Do you want a shower?" she continued, looking at the towel in his death grip.
Asset nodded. Shook his head. Nodded. He looked at his feet, the bright yellow socks he was wearing with purple polka dots.
"You don't like showers, do you?"
Asset shook his head.
"But you want to be clean?"
Asset bit his lip. He needed maintenance. He was making his cat avoid him because of the smell. Even he could smell the smell. He felt small. "Yes."
He felt more than heard Eliza step tentatively closer. She reached down and gently pried the towel away from his grip. He let her.
"Would you be open to trying something new? I think you might like it better."
Asset felt his nostrils flare slightly as he fought to contain the fear beating through him. "I don't know."
"C'mon," she held her hand out to him, a gentle invitation. "You can say no once you see what it is, if you want."
Asset did not know if he could say no while he was in this state. It was too familiar. He could feel his mind slipping into blankness, obey obey obey. But he forced himself to nod, take her hand. She led him in the opposite direction, back towards Aiden's room and into his ensuite.
"This bathroom has a bath," Eliza explained gently, pointing at the white tub he had noticed earlier in the corner. "Do you like baths?"
"I don't know," he answered truthfully.
Eliza nodded, coaxing him closer to the tub. "I can show you how it works, if you'd like?"
Asset looked dubiously at the shining white ceramic. He nodded slowly, feeling his courage sputter.
"This tap here controls the hot water, and this one does the cold water. You turn them however much you want until you get the right temperature." She demonstrated by cranking the hot tap, and Asset jumped slightly when water poured into the tub in a rushing stream. It was loud. "Here, you try."
His hand was led towards the taps. He fought to keep his breathing even, fought the impulse to close his eyes and crouch down and await a blow. He was safe safe safe.
His flesh hand touched cool metal, and he slowly turned the tap back the way it had come. The water stopped. Asset stared at where the water had come from moments before with astonishment. He turned the tap again. Again.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
He breathed out. That was okay. He could do that.
"Perfect!" Eliza beamed, smiling bright and full. He felt himself relax infinitesimally, his muscles unrolling between his shoulder blades.
He nodded at her, bit his lip nervously. "This is good," he said quietly, turning the tap back and forth again.
Eliza smiled. "I knew you could do it." She reached across the tub and pulled some bottles off a ledge. "This is shampoo and conditioner. For your hair. You wet your hair first, then put in the shampoo and rub it in, then wash it off. Then you can put in the conditioner, and you wash that out too. It makes your hair all soft."
"Soft?"
"Thought you might like that," she grinned. "I'll leave you to it. You close the door, so you have some privacy, and just call out if you need anything, alright?"
Asset nodded. Though he did not care much for his own privacy, he had noticed that Eliza and Aiden always wore clothes. That was simple enough. "Yes."
Eliza had risen to her feet to leave the room when Asset remembered. "Wait!"
She turned to face him. "Yeah?"
"Chips."
As though hearing her name, Chips poked her nose around the doorjam, sniffing the air. She hadn't come near him all morning, and he was feeling unreasonably upset about it. He didn't particularly want to be near himself either, so he did understand. But it made his chest feel heavy and sad all the same.
"Can Chips stay?" he asked.
Eliza laughed. "I don't see why not. Just don't let her jump in the bath. She won't thank you."
Chips launched herself clumsily onto the highest shelf, narrowly missing knocking over a row of pot plants, and surveyed the room, all careless finesse like she hadn't just kicked her legs like a wild squirrel trying to get a solid hold on the ledge. Her eye blinked lazily down at them.
"Stay there," Asset told her. Chips flicked her head, nonplussed. It was a fifty-fifty chance she would listen to him. Asset liked that about her. She didn't always do what she was told like he did.
Eliza closed the door with one more encouraging smile, and Asset let himself exhale. He could do this.
He could do this.
First, he glanced towards Chips' perch, drawing strength from her calmness. Then he turned his eyes towards the taps. Hot and cold.
He could do this.
He turned the hot one first and let the tub fill slowly, watching entranced as stream rose around his face. He wanted it as hot as he could take it, as far away from the cold hose and the memory of maintenance as he could. He did not like maintenance. Dipping his hand into the steaming water, he reluctantly noted that just hot was maybe-potentially-probably too hot, and he grudgingly turned the cold tap on to join- just the tiniest twist.
When he thought that he wouldn't immediately boil his skin, he slowly stripped off his clothes and stood in front of the tub, leaning over it cautiously. He looked back at Chips. She meowed, and he took it as the motivation he needed to lift one leg and dip the very tip of his big toe into the water below.
Oh.
It was…
He put the rest of his foot in, followed by the other, followed by a startled gasp as he sat down and heat flooded across his skin like fire. He nearly jumped straight back out but in the next second his skin stopped screaming and it was…
He let himself slip a little deeper.
It was nice.
Nice like warm smiles and summer breeze and blankets and golden hair, charcoal hands, throaty laugh.
He leaned back and dunked his head under the water, coming up gasping as water rushed across his nose. His hair fell in a matted dripping mess around his face. He squeezed some of the strange creamy liquid that Eliza had called shampoo into his hands and rubbed it carefully against his scalp. It smelled like mint and apples. After dunking his head again, the water was a murky grey, so he pulled out the plug and filled it back up one more time, silently apologising.
Don't you leave the tap running, James Buchanan, or so help me you will be the one paying the next bill-
He blinked in surprise. He thought that might be his ma's voice.
Not that he had a mother.
He felt his face scrunch up. He was confused, always confused, all the time. He did not know what was real anymore, why there were people in his head, why he knew things about them, knew their voices.
He did not want to think about it. Instead, he pushed his head back underwater, revelling in the dull pound that echoed between his ears, the muffled sound of footsteps moving around the house. When he came back up, he lathered on a generous amount of the other creamy liquid- conditioner. The soft one.
Eliza had not been lying.
He marvelled as he ran his hands through the wet strands, untangling knots with his fingers. It made everything so smooth. He debated a moment, quirking an eyebrow at Chips to ask her opinion.
Chips licked at her belly, then tumbled down from her perch and onto the floor. She shook her head, reaching up on her back legs to lean against the lip of the tub. Her one eye stared entreatingly at him. She sniffed the air and gave a small mew.
Asset silently agreed. The conditioner smelt even stronger of apples, and he thought he liked it very much. He squeezed out some more straight onto his head.
Chips leaned further forward, eyes intent on the water, and a second too late Asset realised what her ill-advised intentions may be. She launched herself into the tub, landing with a splash and a panicked yelp as she thrashed around in the soapy water.
"Chips! Chips, no!" He scooped up her shivering, scraggly form and pulled her up onto his mostly dry chest. Chips' eyes were wide, and she stayed frozen still where he put her, eye darting around quickly, body held tense. "Chips?"
Mew.
Asset fought very hard not to smile at her unfortunate situation, but he could feel the tell-tale twitching at the corner of his mouth. He could not help it. She was so cute.
"You look like a drowned rat, Stevie," he laughed, taking in Steve's bedraggled expression underneath his wet bangs. He wouldn't dare admit out loud how it made him want to squeeze Steve and maybe just never let go. Not that Steve would ever let him do that. "There ain't no rain anywhere, what the hell even happened to you?"
Chips' one-eyed glare was eerily reminiscent of the image of Steve's in his head. As was her tiny, shivering frame.
"Oh, poor darling," Asset muttered softly, stroking her fur and holding her close. "Do you not know what water is, huh?" Chips stayed silent. "It's okay. I don't much like water either. The bath is nice though."
Chips' eye swivelled to glare right at him, unamused. She clearly did not agree.
Asset grinned down at her, lifting her up and placing her safely on the bench, on top of his awaiting towel. "There you go, sweetheart. Don't jump in again, or your cover will be blown, and I will know for certain that you only have one brain cell." He had been suspicious from the start, really.
He flopped back into the tub, enjoying the warmth that encompassed him down to his bones. It was almost even better than blankets.
Almost.
[-]
An hour (or two, or three) and more hot water than he cared to admit to Eliza later, Asset dressed and dried his hair as best he could with the towel, scooped up a now-mostly-dried Chips (how did cats lick themselves dry? It made no sense. More magic than even magic man was) and padded out into the living room.
"Eliza?" He called tentatively.
"In here!" she replied, her voice floating from the kitchen.
Asset joined her, seating himself down at the island and curling Chips up closer under his chin. He could feel the smile on his face and could do nothing to make it go away as he watched Eliza slice up garlic and onions and slide them into a sizzling pan.
"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say the bath was a success?" she asked hopefully.
Asset ducked his head, getting a whiff of apples from his wet hair. "Yes. Thank you."
"You're absolutely welcome. I'm glad Chips will come near you again. I can't stand your puppy dog sad eyes."
"I don't have sad eyes," he protested.
Eliza barked a laugh. "Don't have sad eyes, my ass. How anyone has ever said no to you in your life is a mystery to me."
Asset did not really feel like telling her that no one ever said yes to him. Questions were not allowed. They were always followed swiftly by a sharp no and a slap across the face. Instead, he shrugged.
"You feeling curry for dinner?"
Asset felt his stomach rumble. In all his excitement about the bath, he had forgotten that he was, indeed, very hungry. He nodded.
Eliza sat down the spatula and turned towards him, hand on her hip and eyes assessing him. "Do you want to brush your hair too, get out all the knots?"
Asset thought he had done a pretty good job at getting out the knots with his fingers, but drying it with the towel had made it go all frizzy and tangled again. "Can you show me how?"
Eliza had stopped looking at him sadly every time he asked her to show him how to do something that she clearly thought was normal human behaviour. Now, she just smiled and turned back to her onions. "I'd love to. I can brush it for you this time, if you want. Mom used to brush my hair when I was little, it was my favourite feeling in the world."
He smiled at the image of a tiny Eliza, brown wild curls attempting to be tamed by a loving hand. "I would like that. Please."
[-]
Getting his hair brushed was like blankets and baths and Chips' cute glare all combined. The rhythmic pull of the bristles through the damp strands and the gentle fingers slowly untangling the more stubborn knots made him melt into a puddle of goo. He didn't think he could stand up and walk if he tried, and was leaning more and more heavily back against Eliza's shins where she was sitting on the couch above him. He closed his eyes, breathed in apples and woodfire and Chips' odd but soothingly distinct smell from where she lay curled in his lap.
Favourite feeling in the world, Eliza had said.
Asset thought he agreed.
[-]
For the past few weeks, Asset noticed that he opened his eyes slowly in the mornings. Let himself lie under the warm covers on his rug and feel the rumbling purring of Chips high on his chest and the weak sunlight pushing through the window across his face.
He noticed that he liked opening his eyes like that. That something inside him that had always felt empty and numb instead felt still, and solid.
Every day, he would open his eyes and wish just a little harder on the dandelions that Eliza said were for wishing things that you really wanted that he did not ever have to leave. That he did not ever have to return to his handlers.
He thought that maybe he could live with the people in his head, the confusion and the muddled voices and the voice whispering at him near constantly, could live with the imminent malfunction and shut-down that would no doubt occur soon, leaving him no longer fit to be an asset, could live with not living much longer at all; if only it meant he could keep this. Keep this life that he had stolen, that he had been given because he was mistaken for a person by someone too kind.
He did not think the dandelions could help him. Thought that they danced away in the breeze, but never caught the right wind to deliver their message to whoever needed to hear it.
But he wished with everything he had, anyway.
[-]
"Who's a cutie kitty cat? Who's a little wittle dumpli- ow!" Chips looked smugly at the thin line of red she had left on Aiden's cheek. "Demon cat," he huffed. "Watch me never buy you anything ever again."
"You bought her a present?" Asset asked, scooping up Chips and letting her crawl underneath his hoodie. Aiden glared at him. Asset thought he was just jealous.
"I did buy her this," Aiden held up a pink rope looking thing. "But I'm not sure she deserves it."
"What's it for?"
Aiden placed it in Asset's hands. On closer inspection, he could see it was covered in tiny yellow crowns. "It's a leash. For walking cats. Who knew they made leashes for cats? Absolutely wild."
Asset frowned. "But Chips already knows how to walk."
"Walk outside, old man. With you. Like you see people walking their dogs, but with… you know. A cat."
Asset looked thoughtfully down at the leash. It was, he admitted, an idea that sounded wonderful. Chips was always looking longingly out the window, but she was not allowed to roam on her own in this neighbourhood. Asset was also mildly terrified that she would get herself killed- because by all his rigorous observations, it did in fact seem she possessed just one brain cell. "Thank you," he said, smiling widely. "I will walk with Chips."
"You don't have to go right this second, but- oh. Okay. Bye, I guess."
[-]
Chips looked majestic with her pink leash, her head tossed high and clumsy feet tripping over each other in excitement. Asset thought she was the most beautiful cat in the world. But he would not tell her that, lest he get a matching red streak to Aiden.
So much like Steve.
They walked down the sidewalk, Asset keeping a keen eye out for potential threats, but mainly it was just teenagers and families and harried business people fluttering between shops and buildings, heads in their own worlds and paying no attention to either of them. Asset was okay with that.
The first smells of spring were in the air, a smell that made him think of purple flowers and fat bees and green grass. He thought he must have once done a mission in spring. Maybe it was a nice mission, one where he did not need correction when he returned, because the smell made him feel happy.
"Where do you want to go, Chips?"
Mew, Chips meeped.
Asset agreed. Everywhere.
Everywhere turned out to be winding through the sprawled city, and Asset let himself smell the dusty air, see the bright lights and feel the movement of the crowds without the rise of panic in his chest. Instead, he found himself smiling. It felt colourful. Alive. He could blend in here (well, as much as a man with a cat on a pink leash could blend in), could disappear into the masses, and pass through markets to smell the different foods and to get ideas of what he should cook next. He could stick close to the shadows in areas where police patrolled and climb trees in the park with Chips to let her explore the highest branches (and to catch her- repeatedly- when she decided nosediving was the most efficient way back down).
The sky was steadily darkening by the time Asset thought they should head back. He did not want to worry Eliza. He had never been out so long on his own before, and he knew that he worried when Eliza came home later than he was expecting. Something told him that she would worry about him, too.
Chips, who had been an endless ball of energy up until now, pouncing on leaves and flies and unfortunate people's shoelaces, was looking sleepy and cuddly, yawning and stopping every few steps to lick at her butt.
Asset scooped her up and tucked her into his hoodie pocket, warm and safe. "Bed time, I think," he murmured.
"Gonna go get mommy to kiss it better for you?"
Asset blinked down at Chips' zonked face, drool seeping out the corner of her jaw. That voice was definitely not her. There was a whimper and a chuckle, mean like he'd learned meant his handlers were going to draw out his punishments for the entertainment of it. The sounds were coming from the narrow walkway between an ivy covered fence and the concrete side of a building that Asset had just passed.
He paused.
Took one step back until he could peer down the path.
Two boys loomed over a scrawny figure, one of them had his hand in the much smaller boy's collar and looked seconds from shaking him like a ragdoll. The kid already had a bruise blooming across his cheekbone.
"Hey!" Asset called out, stalking towards them. Something under his skin burned hot and red.
I had 'em on the ropes, Buck!
Sure, you did.
The kids spun around as one. The boy holding onto the collar of their fresh prey tightened his grip and snarled up at Asset. "Don't come any closer," he warned, eyes flaring. Asset noted the glint of a knife in his hand. "This has nothing to do with you."
Asset tilted his head to the left to try and catch the eye of the poor kid trembling in his grasp. "Kinda looks like it should have something to do with me."
The other bully was looking Asset over warily, his face only marginally less pale than that of the kid they'd cornered. His eyes darted to his friend, then flicked back to Asset. Asset pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie on his metal arm and flexed, sending it whirring. The kid stuttered something that sounded a lot like I need to feed my goldfish and turned on his heel, flying down the path.
Asset turned his attention to the meaner and clearly stupider of the boys. "Give up the knife," he demanded coldly.
The boy laughed harshly. "No fucking way, sunshine. Keep out of business that's not yours."
Asset exhaled. Fine.
In one smooth motion, he reached out and twisted the arm with the knife behind the boy's back, taking advantage of his shock and loosened grip to pull the kid away from his grasp and deposit him safely behind him. The poor kid was wheezing like he was having a damn asthma attack, and Asset squeezed the metal hand around the bully's wrist just a fraction, just enough to make his message clear. He plucked the knife from his grip and spoke directly into his ear. "Scram."
The kid stumbled on his feet when Asset let him go, giving him a shove down the path to get him moving. He looked like he was about to protest, about to demand for his knife back, but Asset glared cold and hard until he turned and ran out of sight.
Asse tucked the knife into his jeans pocket and spun to the still wheezing kid. He crouched down in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his impossibly small shoulder.
"Do you have medicine?" he asked, seeing Steve gasping in his mind's eye.
"My- my bag-" the kid stuttered, pointing vaguely at the ground behind them.
Asset grabbed the bright yellow backpack covered with pictures of a cartoon that looked like an angry yellow squirrel with a lightning bolt for a tail, and rifled through it. Sandwich, phone, laptop, books, ah! He grabbed a plastic thing labelled ventolin that looked promising and pushed it into the kid's hands. The kid raised it to his lips and took a couple of shaky breaths, pumping the inhaler.
"Thanks," he muttered after his breathing had steadied somewhat.
Asset nodded. "No problem."
The kid looked him over properly for the first time, curious. "Who are you, anyway? You look kinda like a superhero with that arm and everything." Chips took that moment to poke her nose out of his hoodie pocket, apparently only vaguely disturbed by all the commotion. "You even got a sidekick."
Do superheroes kill people? he wanted to ask but didn't. "I am…" he trailed off. The answer the voice whispered felt simultaneously wrong and so right sitting on the back of his tongue. He supposed it did not matter to the kid whether what he said was a true statement or not. "Bucky," he finished. "I am just Bucky."
"I'm Miles," the kid said, holding a small hand out to shake. "Just Miles." He smiled.
Asset smiled back.
"Do you need me to walk you home, make sure you get there safe?" Asset asked after a beat in which he thought it might be a thing that responsible adults like Eliza or Aiden would say.
The kid shrugged. "I mean, it should be fine. Now that you scared 'em off."
Asset thought the boy still looked too pale. "It's no bother," he promised. He didn't like the thought of Miles wandering around, tiny and vulnerable, as the sun was setting and alleys were growing darker.
Miles looked down at his shoes. "I mean, stranger danger and all…"
Asset did not know what stranger danger was, but he thought it sounded correct. Strangers could be dangerous. Asset knew that well. "Okay," he agreed. "As long as you think you'll be alright."
Miles bit his lip, getting to his feet and rocking slowly on his heels. He turned to walk away, but turned back around before he had taken even two steps. "Actually, Bucky?"
Asset looked up at him.
"Maybe you could walk with me just to my street, or something. I don't really wanna…" he trailed off, but Asset thought he understood. Steve had hated walking the dark streets alone too, no matter how fierce and invincible he believed himself to be.
He nodded and made sure he smiled slightly so that he didn't look cold and annoyed, then stood up and walked next to Miles down the path.
Asset ended up walking with Miles all the way to his doorstep, where a woman dressed in a bright blue shirt took one look at the shiner around his eye and bustled them both inside.
Asset stood awkwardly in the hallway as the woman closed the door behind him. He had only ever been in Eliza and Aiden's house. He did not have much experience with homes and did not know what the proper protocol for entering one might be.
The woman introduced herself as Katherine and insisted that she make him a cup of tea for getting her boy home safe.
Was this the same lady that taught Miles stranger danger?
Somehow, he ended up perched uncomfortably on the very edge of a squishy couch with a dainty cup of tea between his overly large hands, listening to Katherine prattle about her day at the hospital. She was a nurse, apparently, and was currently working the dementia ward. Miles had long since disappeared up the stairs after thanking Asset once again for helping him out, but Katherine seemed content to stuff him full of biscuits and share her stories.
Asset did not think he minded very much. She seemed lonely, he thought. The way Asset always had been before Eliza. Only talked at, never to. Assets weren't supposed to need conversations like people were.
"I cook, too," he offered hesitantly, as he bit into another heavenly lemon cookie. "Sometimes."
Katherine looked delighted. "Really? I would love to taste some of your baking."
"These are very good, though. Very good." What he meant was that nothing he had ever made tasted as good as this. She must be better than magic man.
Katherine's eyes sparkled and she laughed. "Oh, it's just practice, dear boy. I've had a lifetime."
"I do not know how long I have been cooking," Asset admitted. "I think it has only been a short while." The voice said different, but Asset was steadfastly refusing to give it the time of day after the lingering shake and worry that seeing a kid so much like the Steve that lived in his head had invoked.
Katherine frowned. "Memory troubles? I'm so sorry to hear." She clamped a hand over her mouth, grimacing in apology. "Sorry, that was probably very rude. My nurse brain can't help it." She smiled at him, self-deprecating.
Asset returned her smile weakly. "It's okay. It was not rude. I do have memory troubles. Or at least, I don't remember things. Many things, I suppose." He only ever remembered the mission he had done since his last wipe. He assumed that he had done many missions in the times before, had learned his skills and his muscle memory somewhere before. He remembered he must be ready to comply. His handlers said he had shaped the century. He thought that must mean that he had existed for a long while. But he did not remember it. Nothing beyond the vague sense that his body knew when punishment was coming, that he knew that cold was normal, that he knew that targets were top priority and casualties were to be expected.
"Memory is a complicated thing," Katherine mused. She dropped the topic after that, likely sensing the tense line of his shoulders that had started to creep towards his ears. He did not like thinking of the things that he did not know about himself. He wasn't sure why it felt so unsettling now when he had never thought much on it at all before.
Katherine eventually bade him goodbye with a plastic container full of more lemon cookies, and Asset wandered the dark roads back home, his hand in his pocket stroking over Chips' soft fur gently, her warm breath on his fingers, grounding him. He looked up. There was only one star that was defiant enough to shine despite the streetlights and the glow of the city behind him.
[-]
The floorboards were dusty under their feet, Steve's shoes clumsily knocking against Bucky's as they swayed back and forth, the tinny rattle of the brass band from the gramophone lilting through the kitchen.
"You gotta learn to dance if you ever want to pick up a dame, Stevie."
Steve huffed in his arms, glaring down at his feet. "My feet don't work like that, Buck. It ain't fair."
"Just relax," he laughed, pulling him slightly closer. He wouldn't deny himself that much. Not now, when Steve was flushed and annoyed but also grinning up at him triumphantly when he got a step right.
"I am relaxed," Steve muttered petulantly.
"Like pancakes for dinner are you relaxed," Bucky scoffed. "Here, lean your head on my shoulder."
Steve did, and Bucky closed his eyes at the smile that gripped his bones. Steve's steps lined up gently with his, and he only stepped on Bucky's feet every four steps instead of every time. His bony hands were light on Bucky's neck, his breath warm across his neck. Bucky let his head drop, rested his cheek against his hair. "There ya go," he whispered.
Steve twirled out of his grasp and the dream shifted, Bekka standing in his place, looking at him with tears in her eyes.
"Bucky!" she called, pleaded. "Bucky, come home. Please."
Bucky couldn't speak. He didn't know where home was. "Bekka. What's going on?"
"Come back, Bucky. Come home."
She disappeared into mist and Bucky stumbled towards her, hands grasping at air. "Bekka? Bekka, where are you?!"
"Asset."
Bucky froze. He knew that voice. Pierce.
"Are you ready to comply?"
Bucky flew at him, hands opened like claws. He fought, he fought, he fought.
[-]
He opened his eyes with a silent gasp, knowing that this was not Good. The voice's dreams and whispers were overtaking his compliance training. Without compliance, he was nothing. Useless.
Functioning was low.
Too low.
He sighed, curling his blankets tighter around his chin. He closed his eyes and pictured a dandelion and wished wished wished again.
[-]
Aiden was drawing at the sun spilled table when Asset found him. He gave a lazy wave of acknowledgement, not looking up from his paper. Asset sat next to him, two chairs down. Enough space to not crowd whilst also being able to see the lines Aiden used to coax an image into being.
The silence stretched, long and idle, an Asset allowed himself a moment to sit still and collect his thoughts into a story that he could explain. He remembered Eliza's reaction last time he had admitted that he was teetering towards non-functional, and preferred not to have a repeat performance.
"If you found something that you wanted to keep," he started quietly, "what would you risk for it?"
Aiden glanced up briefly before continuing his sketch. "I suppose it depended on how important this thing was to me."
"If it was very important."
Aiden hummed. "Probably a lot, then. If keeping it was what I cared about most."
"Even if it came with other things that were not good?"
Aiden contemplated that a moment. "If the fear of the not good things was less than the fear of losing the thing I found, then yeah. I guess I would."
Asset sat back in his chair, looking out the sunny window to spot the parrots currently picking at the grass. "I have a not good thing."
He felt Aiden's eyes on the side of his face. "I'm sorry to hear that," Asset heard him place his pencil down. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
Asset watched the parrots. Red and blue and orange. Bright and loud and free. "I have voices in my head. They tell me things. Eliza might have told you already; things that aren't true. Things I sometimes wish were. And…" he breathed in. Let it out. "It's a symptom. Of not receiving maintenance."
"Maintenance? I've heard you say that before. What do you mean by it?"
Asset shrugged, moved his eyes to the low hanging branches, new leaves just starting to bud in the slowly warming spring, cascading like a waterfall over the side fence. "I am an asset. Assets stop working if they are not maintained. Then they are disposed of."
To Aiden's credit, he managed to not look particularly surprised by Asset's words. "What happens if you go and receive maintenance?"
Asset grimaced. "I forget."
"Forget what, exactly?"
"Everything, I think."
Aiden was quiet. He dropped his eyes back to his drawing and picked the pencil up slowly, adding texture to a line. "Well, that sucks."
Asset snorted. "Yes."
"So, it's… what? Keep your memories, or die?"
Asset shrugged again.
"Sounds morbid."
"But it is not so bad."
Aiden's eyebrows reached up his forehead.
"It is not so bad because you are right. I am more scared of losing this than of dying, or of the voice. So, it is okay."
Aiden blinked. "That's not really what I… That's not really what I meant. I wasn't exactly thinking dying was part of the hypothetical scenario you were painting there."
Asset dropped his gaze from the window to his hands. One shiny, one pink. "Stevie was born in 1920." He did not know where the information came from, just that it was there. "The voice says I knew him. It lies, but if it isn't-" he cut himself off. That was dangerous thinking. Thinking worthy of punishment. He clenched his hands together nervously. "If it isn't lying, then maybe I should be dead by now anyway. So, it is okay."
Aiden had stopped drawing altogether and was just staring blankly at the page. "Um," he mumbled intelligently. "Right. Wow. Uhh… yeah. Wow." He huffed out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, then caught Asset's gaze. His smile looked forced, held tight at the edges. "Would you like me to draw anything that this voice tells you? So that you can get it down on paper and out of your head, maybe?"
It was an obvious attempt at changing the subject, but Asset allowed it. "Alright," he agreed.
"Do you want me to draw… Steve?"
Asset shook his head immediately. No. No, he did not want to see Steve look back at him, frozen in paper. He did not want to describe him out loud, as though the vocalised words would somehow summon him into the sunny dining room. Worse, he did not want to describe him only to hear Aiden confirm that his Steve was not the Steve that existed now. The only thing worse than knowing Steve wasn't real, would be knowing that Steve wasn't real.
But there was someone that Aiden did not know. "Can you draw my sister? Bekka."
Aiden's smile softened into something more genuine. "I'd be honoured. What is she like?"
Hours of watching the sun lethargically pull itself across the sky passed as Aiden sketched. Words fell from Asset's mouth in a steady stream. Words the voice whispered to him. The curve of Bekka's chin, the fire in her eyes, the yellow ribbon stubbornly holding back her curls. The way she laughed, and the way she squeezed like a python when she hugged. The way she got away with near murder because she was the youngest and the way she always threw him straight under the bus. The way she was wicked smart, quick and witty, a genius with words. The way she was his biggest tease and pain the ass, but also his biggest anchor.
Bekka stared back at him, eyes full of life and mouth full of mischief when Aiden wordlessly slid the finished drawing his way.
If a few tears rolled down his face, Aiden didn't mention it.
Eliza had said it was good to cry if he wanted to, anyway.
[-]
He was completing his nightly perimeter check when he passed under the slightly open window and heard Eliza and Aiden whispering to each other.
"I know I told you before that he was just crazy, but look. There's no way. It's a goddamn spitting image. Rebekah Barnes, born 1930."
"But he can't be telling the truth, can he? She's like 85 now. How old does that make him? He doesn't look a day over 30. But look at this one. With shorter hair…"
"It's not possible."
"He said he knew Steve, right?"
Aiden hummed.
"There's a picture of Bucky Barnes in the museum. Do you think it's really him? What if we took him to see it?
"I don't know if that's a good idea, 'Liza."
Asset moved away from the window, silent on his feet and breath held tight in his lungs.
Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. It sat under his sternum, uncomfortable and heavy.
The museum. They said there was a Bucky Barnes at the museum.
Asset made sure Chips was safely in her blankets and stole off under the pale moon's watchful eyes.
[-]
The museum was easy to break into.
Too easy.
People should put in a little more effort if they didn't want all their historical artifacts to go missing, Asset thought, rolling his eyes as he disabled another camera with a clean shot.
A giant sign on the wall pointed him towards the Captain America exhibit. Cap pointed his finger straight at him with a caption reading America wants you. Asset followed the sign and walked into the exhibit, the posters and figurines cast in the eerie glow of the green emergency exit sign.
In the centre was a stage set up with uniforms on mannequins, Cap's red, white and blue monstrosity striking even in the darkness. To the left of Cap was a figure dressed in dark blue, the jacket worn and clearly old. Asset stepped towards it and ran his fingers across the cuff. The fabric was rough, just like the voice said it should be.
He drew back. Looked around at the walls.
Cap's face was splashed everywhere, handsome and regal, staring off into the distance. Asset searched the face for signs of his Steve, but the posters were too posed, too perfect for him to tell.
There was a blank wall on which a projection was normally displayed, and Asset flicked on the switch, setting the movie rolling. It showed Cap, smiling sheepishly and spreading his arms to introduce a ragtag group of guys in army gear.
Dum Dum. Frenchie. Gabe.
And there. There.
Someone who looked like the face in the mirror. But with shorter hair, a younger face. Captain America threw his arm across the man's shoulders, leaning close to him and laughing at something he said. His eyes crinkled on the black and white film, his nose too big and crooked where it had healed wrong as a kid.
Asset exhaled, his eyes fixed to the image. Stevie.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be real.
He flicked his gaze back to the other man. Bucky Barnes. He felt the squeeze Cap gave his shoulder like a phantom touch.
The writing on the wall said Steve was the best strategist the American Army had ever seen. Bucky huffed, shaking his head. "Steve couldn't even look both ways before crossing the road," he muttered under his breath. "Idiot."
The writing also said that he had no remaining family, and something like sadness tugged at his chest, burrowed deep and heavy. He should've had you. He was supposed to have you.
The pictures of Steve's death and discovery were the worst. Frozen, plane crumpled around him, Steve lying in the fetal position, arms protecting his head from a final blow. Goddamn moron couldn't keep himself out of trouble for two days.
The Steve they pulled out of the ice was the Steve who had confronted him on the hellicarrier. Captain America. Tall, strong, and- impossibly- real.
(You know me.)
Asset swallowed and stared blankly at the pictures, the writing twisting around him.
The Steve that died in the war was the voice's Steve. His Steve.
And that Steve knew Bucky. That Steve went into the ice-
His breathing was starting to pick up, so he crouched low, steadying his centre of balance and pulling calmness around him like a cloak. He didn't know he didn't know he didn't-
[-]
The pounding was sure to wake them up, but Asset couldn't bring himself to care. He needed to see something real.
"Asset?" Eliza asked blearily, opening the door wider and rubbing her eyes from sleep.
Asset opened his mouth, but no words fell out. He licked his lips. Tried again. "Who is Bucky Barnes?"
That seemed to wake her up. "Oh, shit."
[-]
Eliza's go-to in every situation, whether happy, sad or desperate, was always tea. Hot tea and blankets. Asset had noticed the pattern, but he was grateful for it now.
He felt the soft weight of the afghan across his shoulders, smelt the supposed-to-be calming scent of peppermint and honey from the tea between his hands. He sipped quietly, eyes trained on the floor between his feet.
Eliza had pulled herself from her shock long enough to call out for Aiden, who stumbled out of his room a second later looking just as disgruntled as Eliza had. They had shared a loaded look, and then Eliza had turned to him and suggested he sit down for this, maybe.
Well, now he was sitting.
"Who is Bucky Barnes?" it was a whisper this time.
Aiden cleared his throat. "He is a guy that fought in the Second World War. The history books say he was a friend of Captain America's. He uh… well. He looks remarkably like you."
"He does," Asset agreed. He paused. "Steve is Steve."
Aiden scrunched his brow in confusion. "I mean, yeah?"
Asset shook his head, knowing what he was saying was making no sense. "I mean that Steve in the exhibit is Steve. The Steve in my head. How is that possible?"
Eliza rounded the couch and pushed an extra cup of tea into Aiden's hands. "I don't know," she admitted. "But you must admit, the easiest explanation would be that you might be Bucky Barnes. That this Steve that you know is a memory. One you'd forgotten."
Asset shook his head hard, squeezed his eyes shut. "No."
He felt Eliza's hand on his knee. A grounding warmth. "Why could that not be true?" she asked gently.
"Because-" words escaped him in a huff of breath. He sipped his tea miserably. "Because Bucky Barnes is a person, and I am an asset."
"Asset's not your na-?" Eliza's question was cut short by an audible jab from Aiden's elbow.
"Are you saying you don't think you're human?" Aiden asked.
Asset furrowed his eyebrows. "I know I am not human. I am HYDRAs. They made me."
Eliza's eyes were wet, Asset noticed. Like tears that weren't ready to fall yet. "I don't know what HYDRA is, but what if they lied to you? You look human to me."
Asset felt cold, despite the warm tea. "They wouldn't lie." They wouldn't. HYDRA was loyal. HYDRA didn't lie.
Eliza's lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you feel this?" she pulled the tea from his grasp and directed his flesh hand to rest just above her chest. He felt it thump rhythmically. "That's my heartbeat. It tells me I'm alive. A living thing. An animal; a human."
Asset nodded. He knew about hearts. Shoot one and they're dead.
"You have a heart, too. Right here." She moved their entwined fingers to his own chest, and Asset felt the steady beat.
He grimaced. "That's not a heart. Handlers say that assets don't have hearts. Heartless. Empty. That's why we are perfect." Weapons he doesn't say.
"Then they lied," Eliza argued emphatically. "Because that, old man, is a heart. Well and truly."
He felt like his feet were on ground that was shifting, unsettled. HYDRA didn't lie. The voice lied. The voice lied.
But that's Steve, it whispered. How would you know him?
His eyes stung. "I don't know!" he yelled at it. "I don't know! Shut up!" He whimpered, twisted his fingers in his hair and pulled to try and stop the itching underneath his skin. "I don't know."
Eliza's hands covered his own and untangled them from his hair. He leant forward into her, accepting the hug she wrapped him in. "I don't know," he whispered into her shirt. "I don't know."
Her heart was loud.
[-]
When he finally drifted to into an uneasy rest, he saw dusty floorboards, skinny shoulders, red, white and blue, needles in his arms, cold cold cold.
"Asset."
"Ready to comply."
[-]