Hunt for the Winter Soldier – Ch 4: A Ghost No More

Soldier is taken down by the Avengers, returned to the compound, bound and kept as they try to get through to him

They returned to the Avengers Compound with the Soldier and placed him in a secure room in the basement of the complex. He lay unconscious on the bed, monitored via CCTV cameras in the room.

They had transformed a room on the lower level of the residential building to house the Winter Soldier upon acquisition. It contained a bed, a television attached to the wall up by the ceiling, and two closed circuit security cameras and that was all. A few things were added after they brought the Soldier back to the compound, injured and unconscious; specifically a chair, medical monitors and an IV stand.

Dr. Banner had him hooked up so they could monitor his vitals, in case of serious and lingering injury. He'd also started an IV line in order to provide fluids and nutrients, as they weren't certain at all as to when the man could be released from his bindings safely. Tony had used some of his vibranium supply to fashion bands that were strong enough to hold the Soldier in place.

When he finally awoke the following morning, the Soldier simply opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. The room was white and bright, not what he expected. Lifting his head from the mattress he looked around; trying to determine the location. The room was unfamiliar, but being bound and having tubes drilled into his flesh was familiar. He lowered his head to the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for orders or whatever may come next. With Hydra he could never be certain. There was a routine he was used to and expected; being awakened and thawed, dragged down the hall by two handlers before he was able to get his feet under him.

In the room at the end of the corridor they would place him in the big chair. He knew the big chair with its pain inducing mechanics; the man who always placed the mouthpiece between his teeth so he didn't bite his tongue off during the mind-wiping process; the familiar tilt of the chair and the vise that encompassed his head to hold him tightly in place, the visor plates that clamped over his face and sent lightning through his left eye into his brain; the sound of his own screams echoing through the vaulted chamber until he no longer registered the lightning and his screams went silent.

Only then the visors biting into his skull would release and the chair would tilt forward to sit him up to face his handler who uttered those words… those nine words in his native tongue. At the end of those spoken words there was a pleasant greeting from his trainer, "Dolbroye utro, Soldat" -Good morning, Soldier- and he'd respond "Gotova sotviets toviach" -Ready to comply-.

He waited and waited and wondered where his handlers were. Why was he bound to this bed? It was soft under him and the room was warm and bright. This isn't right, he thought. The rooms were dank and dark and cold at Hydra; there were no comforts back at home. This room was strange and unfamiliar. He looked down at himself and noted that his clothes had been removed and he was now covered by a clean white sheet and blanket. Where was he? His eyes moved about the room and he noted two closed circuit cameras in the corners pointed at him. He was being watched.

To the left of the bed, there was a monitor that showed colored neon lines scrolling across the screen and it made an irritating beeping sound every few seconds. There were colored cables running from it to his chest and right arm which were attached to him under the sheet. To his right side, over his shoulder was a tall pole with a number of bags filled with clear liquid hanging from it. There were clear rubber tubes running from the bags into a port in his right arm. That was not unusual.

He tried to lift his left arm, with the intention of pulling the tubes from his right, but he couldn't move. He looked down at his metal arm and saw that it was secured by similar metal bands at the wrist and bicep. Now that was also familiar. He tested his right arm and found it was also secured, so he tried to move his legs only to find they, too, were bound. He let out a breath. Now what?

There was a sound on the other side of the wall and then the door lock clicked. His gaze shot in the direction of the door as it began to open but before it actually opened, he chose to look straight ahead; at the ceiling above him. He waited silently as he stared unblinking at the smooth white surface over the bed.

He waited for the usual cue that would start his de-briefing, "Otchet o missii" -Mission report-.

"How are you feeling?"

The question was an unusual one and in English. No one ever cared how he was feeling, but now that it was pointed out he realized he had a headache and his neck and shoulders ached. The Soldier blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion. His gaze shot to the man standing just inside the open door. It was the man on the bridge; the same man in the plaza and on the rooftop. The soldier stared at the man; he recognized him as the American hero, Captain America, but he wasn't in his star-spangled battle dress.

"Got nothing to say?" the blond man asked.

Soldier turned his gaze back to the ceiling and simply asked his own question," Ga-dee ya?"

"Sorry, I don't speak Russian," Steve told him.

"He asked, 'where am I?'" Nat translated for him as she stepped into the room. The Soldier turned his gaze on her and narrowed his eyes.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked, and Steve looked at her curiously. "Ty nayesh kto ya?" she repeated in Russian, still focused on the Soldier.

"Nyet," he answered with a sneer.

"No? That's too bad, because I remember you," she told him.

"Do you two know each other?" Steve asked her.

"I know him," she specified. "He says he doesn't remember me, but I think… he's lying."

"Tay cherna dov-ah," the Soldier replied. -You're a Black Widow-.

"I am," Natasha confirmed and moved closer to the bed. "Speak English."

"Where am I?" the Soldier demanded to know. Steve noted how the voice of his old friend returned when he spoke English, but the tone of his voice was gravely and unrecognizable when he spoke Russian.

"You're safe… in a safe place," Steve answered.

He looked upon the man who was once his best friend. His face, chest and right arm showed bruises and lacerations from their most recent battle, but he'd been cleaned up and looked more like the man Steve once knew. The long hair and a few days worth of beard growth were different, but both easily corrected when the time came. The ugly scars on the left side of his chest and shoulder where the metal arm was attached to his torso made Steve sick to his stomach.

A memory flashed through his mind as he looked at Barnes lying there. It was a memory of the moment he found Bucky in Zola's lab in 1943. When he'd pulled Barnes from the lab table and they saw each other for the first time, Bucky had bruises on his face that Steve had simply assumed were from combat or a beating as a POW. Now, as Barnes glared at him from the bed, Steve realized that Bucky's face had the same fresh wounds today as he'd had in 1943. It was a pattern, he realized. The very same abrasions on his cheeks and over his left eye, as if something had been attached to his face and repeatedly left the same marks.

"Let me go," the Soldier demanded.

"I don't think so," Steve replied.

"Dumayesh', smozhesh' derzhat' menya v plenu?" the Soldier asked, staring at the Widow.

"You're not a prisoner," she told him. "We're trying to help you."

"Mne ne nuzhna pomoshch'," he sneered and turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

"Actually, you do need our help, more than you are even aware," she told him with compassion in her voice. Steve was able to follow the conversation between the two thanks to Nat's replies. "Speak English!" she demanded.

"Let me go. You have no idea what you are doing," he told them.

"We have a pretty good idea," Natasha told him.

"Hydra will come for me," he told them.

"Is that a threat or a warning?" Steve asked.

"It is a fact," the Soldier told him.

"Do you want them to come for you?" Steve asked him.

The Soldier looked at him with a confused expression. "It doesn't matter what I want. They always come for me," he told the man.

"It does matter," Steve told him. "You have a choice."

"No, I don't!" the Soldier shouted and struggled against the bindings, testing their strength. Steve held his breath and prayed they'd hold.

"We can help you," Nat told him.

"You are a Black Widow. Why are you here?" he asked her, his tone nearly accusing her of a betrayal as he stopped struggling.

"I had… my eyes opened," she told him.

He curled his lip at her and growled before turning his head to face away in a gesture to dismiss her. The action was meant to convey that she had no value to him and therefore deserved no respect.

Steve looked to Nat and noticed that the Soldier's actions seemed to hit her in a negative way. She bit lightly on her lower lip and looked sorrowful.

"You okay?" he asked.

She recovered her posture and gave him a single nod before turning and walking out the door. Steve stood there a moment longer, looking at the man lying on the bed; everything about him screamed that this was not his best friend from childhood. Bucky was fun-loving, compassionate and playful. He had loved life and everything that it offered. He had been Steve's protector and confidante from kindergarten right into their 20's and they had fought together, side by side, against Hydra and the Nazis.

When he had asked if Bucky was willing to follow Captain America into battle, Barnes had replied "Hell no, but that skinny kid from Brooklyn who wouldn't run away from a fight… I'm following him." He remembered that moment like it was yesterday, for that was an important moment for Steve; when he truly realized that his friendship with James Barnes existed outside of the Captain America persona.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Steve had tried; he was inches away, reaching out and so certain he could save Bucky, and then his heart dropped into his stomach as the railing broke and he watched his friend plummeting to his death… or so he thought. Now, Steve's heart pounded in his chest, his breaths became shaky and tears welled up in his eyes.

"Pochemu ty yeshche zdes'?" -Why are you still here?-

The sudden sound of the unfamiliar voice startled him out of his traumatic memory. Steve had no idea what the Soldier asked, but his tone was not friendly and he wondered if he had just been threatened. He took a couple steps backward toward the door, keeping his eyes on the man who was glaring at him from the bed. He paused only another second and then stepped out, closing the door with a soft click.

Steve needed to find Dr. Golden. She was in possession of something he needed to see; the file. The Winter Soldier file and all the information it held within it. What did they do to his friend to turn him into a killer… a mass murderer – an assassin of the highest order?

Dr. Golden was sitting in the assembly room when he walked in. Steve marched right over to her and she looked up at him. "Captain Rogers… is there something you need?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yes," he replied. "I need to see the file Fury gave you."

Emily closed the magazine she'd been perusing and sat up straighter. Her pleasant smile faded and she let out a slow breath. "I don't think that's a good idea, Captain."

"I need to know what they did to my friend," he told her straight out.

"I'm not sure that information is anything you can handle right now," she told him honestly. "The information in that file is… heartrending. What they did to Sgt. Barnes is… criminal. That file details ghastly horrors they perpetrated on your friend…repeatedly."

"I need to know, so I can understand," he told her.

Emily considered his request and finally shook her head. "I can't."

"Are you refusing my request, Doctor?"

"Steve, listen to me," she tried to reason with him. "I'm just trying to protect you from –"

"I don't need your protection," he said, cutting her off. "I need to know exactly what was done to Bucky, so I can understand him and what he's going through."

"I'm just afraid that if I show you the details, I'll have two patients to care for, instead of one."

"I can handle it," Steve told her. "I'm sure it's disturbing stuff, it would have to be to do that to Bucky," he said, pointing behind him in the direction of what was supposed to be where the Soldier was being held.

Natasha walked into the room just as Steve pointed behind him, in her direction. She stopped in her tracks, realizing she just walked in on something serious.

"Steve?" she asked, but was looking to Emily as she spoke. "What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he tried to assure her, but his tone was serious and desperate.

"Dr. Golden?" she asked, as she stepped closer to them, but kept her distance from Steve.

"Hello, Natasha," Emily greeted her. "Captain Rogers was just mentioning that he feels he should read the Winter Soldier File. I was advising against it."

Nat nodded her head and then looked to Steve. "She may be right, Steve. You may wish, afterward, that you never saw it."

Steve turned to look at her, still clearly unhappy. "You once told me that I may not want to pull on that thread; this is what you meant." His words were not a question but more accusatory. "You know what they did to him," he said.

"I know the things they did to us… to the Black Widows. I'm sure the things they did to the Winter Soldiers were just as unpleasant," she told him.

"Plural?" Steve asked. "There are more Winter Soldiers?"

"Not that I know of," Nat told him. "But Barnes wasn't the first they tried their experiments on. There were many before him. The ones who came before him didn't survive. As far as I know, he's the only living Winter Soldier."

Steve looked at her, considering her words; then he turned back to Dr. Golden. "I need to see the file."

"Will you at least agree to allow me, and Ms. Romanoff, to be in the room with you when you do? In case you have questions or… need to talk about what you will read—."

He glanced at Natasha and she gave him a nod. He looked back at Golden. "Agreed," he replied.

An hour later the three gathered in Stark's personal office. Emily had taken the time to inform Tony and Bruce what was going on and they agreed to be close by just in case.

Steve and Nat were already seated when Dr. Golden arrived. Natasha was seated comfortably on the couch facing Steve, who had taken a seat in a large plush chair. There was a glass coffee table between them and Emily slowly placed the folder on the table top.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked him one more time.

Steve hesitated only a moment and then nodded. He stared at the folder lying on the table as trepidation rose inside him. Emily took a seat on the couch with Nat so she could keep an eye on him as he read the file.

"Anyone want a drink?" Natasha suddenly asked and sprang from the couch. She walked to the credenza that stood between the windows and picked up a carafe of Honey Jack.

She looked back at the others holding it in her hand. Emily shook her head no, but Steve replied without turning around, "I think I might need one."

"Good," Nat replied. "I hate to drink alone." She poured two short glasses of bourbon and dropped two ice cubes in each glass. She carried the glasses back to the seating area and placed one on a coaster in front of Steve before taking her seat again.

Steve continued to sit and stare at the folder. He didn't move to pick it up. He simply stared at it and Emily watched him, hoping he would change his mind.

"You said Fury has eyes everywhere," Steve reminded her. "What did that mean? Does he have people inside Hydra?"

"No," Emily told him. "This file is not a copy of information gathered by spies. This file is the original hard copy record taken from Pierce's personal files. This is Hydra's complete details on the experiments and tortures that Sgt. Barnes endured and survived... physically."

Dr. Golden felt it was absolutely necessary to distinguish for him that although his friend did physically survive decades of unspeakable tortures as an unwilling participant in Hydra's experiments; his friend did not survive the ordeal mentally intact. That was the part of this that Steve Rogers needed to come to terms with. That was the only reason she agreed to allow him to view the file. He needed to know going in to this that there may be no hope in reclaiming Sgt. Barnes as the man Steve knew as a good man.

Steve reached for the file and then paused. Instead he picked up the glass Nat had put in front of him and took a large swallow to steady himself. He placed the glass back down on the table and then picked up the folder.

He opened the manila envelope and slid the folder out. He rested both on his lap for a moment and then opened the folder. Inside, was a tan file folder with words on the cover written in Russian. He couldn't read the language but the words were stamped on it in the same manner the U.S. marked their Top Secret files.

He slid the file from the folder and then placed both the envelope and the cover folder on the table. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the file on his lap. Steve swallowed hard as he prepared to look at what was inside. His throat was parched even after having taken a large swallow of the honey smooth bourbon. Taking a deep breath, he opened the file.

The first things to greet him were dozens of photographs of Bucky; many of them were from before his capture in WWII. There were stills of Barnes in his Army dress uniform standing alongside Steve. Many of the photos of the two of them showed the friends in amicable conversations or laughing at something funny together. There were a few photographs that showed Captain America with the seven hundred prisoners of war he'd rescued, including Bucky, as they stood in front of Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter.

Steve looked closely at the photograph. Steve was saluting the Colonel and Bucky was standing beside him, looking up at him. The way Bucky was looking at him, his expression showed that he was awestruck or simply just proud of what Steve had become. He focused on Bucky's face in the photo and realized he was right. The marks shown on Bucky's face in the photo from 1943 are exactly the same ones on his face today. He wondered what was causing these injuries to his friend's face.

Steve sorted slowly through the photographs as memories flooded his mind. He still held clear details of these moments and wondered how Hydra had gotten them. They must have had operatives posing as war correspondents or perhaps posing as American soldiers in order to walk among them.

He put the first set of photographs into the pocket on the left side of the file folder and then Nat spoke up, her voice was soft and Steve almost missed it.

"Can I see those?" she asked.

Steve looked at her and realized, from her expression, that she too needed to know. He pulled the photos out with great care and handed them over to her. Natasha took her time looking at each one to get a real feel for who the Soldier was, before he was transformed, and the friendship the two men had shared. She didn't have to look too closely though, their friendship and love for one another seemed to jump out at her from the black and white prints.

As Natasha studied the first group of photos, Steve took out the next group. These made him catch his breath as they were a photo record of Bucky's condition after they had found him in the river. His left arm was missing and his body looked frozen solid. The next photos showed him sleeping in a stasis pod through frost covered viewing windows and others showed him sitting in a chair, screaming, with metal devices clamped to his head and face. Steve wondered if that was the device that left the marks.

The next group of photos showed a team of doctors removing the rest of Bucky's left arm in a surgical procedure that removed his shoulder at the joint and a disgusting view of his hollowed out left shoulder and chest area. There were close up photos of the operation and the steps it took to successfully attach an intricate wiring system and the heavy metal arm to what was left of Bucky's torso.

Steve's heart pounded hard behind his ribcage and he breathed heavily through his nose as he tried not to let his emotions take over. He pressed a closed fist to his mouth and swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. He needed to see this through. Emily watched him as he sorted through the photographs. It was quite clear that he was fighting hard to hold back strong emotions. His breathing was shaky and his bottom lip and chin quivered as he held back his tears.

The final photos showed Bucky in various stages of what looked to Steve to be a number of different experiments or torture sessions. In some of the photos a haggard and wounded Bucky was kneeling on the floor as a team of Hydra operatives appeared to be beating him down with clubs and electrical prods. Some of the stills captured Bucky trying to fend off his attackers to no avail. He was always outnumbered and helpless. Steve took note that in a few of the photos it appeared that Bucky wasn't in control of his new bionic arm. In some of the photos he had his right arm raised in his own defense while the metal arm hung useless at his side. in some of the photos his friend looked angry, and who wouldn't be; in others he appeared despondent and mentally beaten down. In the photos there were always a full team of heavily armed men standing around Barnes; in others, the men were actively putting a heavy hurt on his friend.

Steve's heart was bounding now; he could feel the pulse of it in his throat. Steve took a deep breath and a tear escaped to roll down his cheek. Dr. Golden saw it, but said nothing. It was quite clear to her that it was a release of both anger and sorrow and knew Steve would be blaming himself for what his friend had to endure. He stared at one of the photos for a particularly long time as if he could make the actions displayed there come to life. His imagination allowed the image to move and he wished he could reach through it and pull his old friend from their clutches. Steve swallowed hard and, with shaky hands he leaned forward to put the photos on the table so Nat could pick them up when she was ready.

His handling of the photos didn't escape either woman's attention; the first group of photos, which showed Bucky before his transmutation; were handled carefully, almost reverently. This group of photos was practically tossed onto the table and Emily could sense anger rising in him; and he hadn't even begun to read.

Steve sat back in the chair and crossed one ankle over the other as he pulled the thick stack of papers from the folder. The name at the top of the first page caught his attention; Dr. Arnim Zola. Emily and Natasha exchanged worried glances as Steve settled in to read the documents. A few minutes later he turned the page to read.

Doctor's Notes – 5 May 1945

Comrade Karpov's package arrived this morning, though whether we will be able to get anything useful from it is as yet unknown. It is suspected that submersion in the freezing river may have preserved his life. It did prevent him from bleeding out as his wounds are severe. Subject has several deep lacerations on various parts of his body, most especially on the left side.

Subject has an amputation of the lower left arm from the elbow joint. The skin and tissue has frozen in the icy waters, essentially cauterizing the wound. He has been kept in cold storage until they can secure him at a medical facility in case thawing him out would lead to the subject's death.

Doctor's Notes – 6 May 1945

We have begun the procedure to thaw out the subject. Our theory is that a body that has been flash-frozen can be successfully revived. The thawing process will be done slowly over days to avoid a spontaneous heartbeat that may send ice cold blood to the heart and lungs.

Doctor's Notes – 7 May 1945

I am ecstatic to see the subject out of the freeze chamber. I recognize the subject as a prisoner of war on whom I had started experimentation in 1943. His identity, for record, is Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes of the United States Army.

The variant super soldier serum that I had injected into this particular subject may very well be the reason for his survival. Not only did he survive submersion in the frozen river for weeks until our troops were able to locate him, but I personally witnessed his fall from the speeding train to the bottom of a ravine hundreds of feet below.

Steve slowly turned the page.

Doctor's Notes – 9 May 1945

Yesterday exceeded all expectations. Subject's body temperature was increased slowly over several days. His wounds were dealt with to prevent further blood loss. Subject's tissue and blood are viable; however, subject was in fact deceased when body temperature reached 97.8 degrees F.

We began cardio-pulmonary resuscitation and attempted to inflate his lungs with forced positive pressure ventilation using a new experimental device called a Bag Valve Mask.

After several minutes of CPR and attempting to manually ventilate the subject to no avail, we decided to administer electro-shock to try to restart his heart's electrical rhythm, while also injecting adrenaline directly into the heart muscle.

After several injections and EST, the subject was converted to a living state. He required manual ventilation for a period of twelve minutes until he began breathing on his own.

Subject is being monitored, but remains unconscious. Pupil reactivity indicates head injury, possibly a severe concussion.

Steve turned the page and paused to reach for his drink. He exchanged a glance with Dr. Golden and then Natasha, but didn't say a word. He took a long pull from the glass and returned it to the table before sitting back.

Doctor's Notes – 12 May 1945

Subject opened his eyes spontaneously at 02:48 hours. He has made no attempt to speak or to move on his own. Attempts to communicate with subject have failed. It appears subject suffers from traumatic brain injury (TBI). Our hopes for this subject may be for naught.

Doctor's Notes – 15 May 1945

Subject awoke violently at 08:14 hours, injuring two of the aids tending to his medical needs. Remarkable skill considering he has only one working arm.

I believe his fighting skills are a reflex memory. He retains skills he had previously; hand to hand combat and languages, he has spoken to personnel in several languages. His display of verbal communication has been in English, Russian, Romanian and German.

Subject, however, has no idea of who he is, where he is from, or how he has come to have these skills. He is nearly a blank slate, but an incredibly dangerous one. He is being sedated while further testing is completed.

Doctor's Notes – 21 May 1945

I have been instructed by my superiors in Germany that the subject is to be placed back in cryo-stasis, for what purpose, I have not been told. I have learned though that Comrade Karpov has been named Director of a special scientific research department located in Moscow, Russia. It is called Department X, and that is all I know about it.

Steve turned that page over and the one underneath it piqued his attention. It was not a record of Zola's journal entries, but a formal letter from Karpov himself. It was dated nearly a decade after Zola's last. Did that signify that Bucky had been kept in stasis for nearly ten years?

The original letter was included along with a translated copy. It reads:

Major General Vasily Karpov

Head of Special Science Division

Department X

TOP SECRET KGB CLEARANCE ONLY!

Project: Winter Soldier

Date: 17 June 1954

Volkov's man at MI6, Parcifal, has proven his worth. His schematics for Advanced Robotic Appendages and Attachments he provided to our division two months past were revolutionary in our breakthrough in bionics applications.

Our scientific research team has successfully completed a working prototype of a bionic arm for our subject, Codename: Winter Soldier. However, the bionic appendage requires connection at the shoulder so we will be proceeding with a full amputation of what remains of the subject's left arm. It is also indicated that the entire shoulder tissue and bones be removed in order to join the bionics wiring and mechanics to the joint.

Full amputation surgery is scheduled.

18 June 1954

Full amputation of subject's arm was successful. However, the subject regained spontaneous consciousness during the procedure which was unsettling to the staff. Subject's screams unnerved many on the staff. Subject became combative and traumatized upon seeing what was being done to him. He was put back under as quickly as possible, but I'm afraid two of the nursing staff will require intensive therapy before returning to their duties here. There is a possibility they will not be returning.

Attachment of the bionic appendage was completed without further incident. The procedure for keeping a super soldier under anesthesia has been amended to account for how quickly the body metabolizes any foreign substances; such as, medications, alcohol, sedatives, etc.

With the bionic arm in place, clearance has been granted to Department X to begin work specifically in experimentation focused on the Winter Soldier Project.

It is my full intention to turn this American subject back on his own people, our enemies, in his former country, along with their allies. He will be a valuable tool in the right hands.

12 August 1954

Subject: Winter Soldier is healing remarkably well since the robotic transplant, although he has not yet mastered its use. We are uncertain if he is truly having difficulty with it or is simply being stubborn. If it is outright refusal to our demands, subject will be dealt with extensively.

Department H out of Canada's Secret Science and Weapons Division, specifically their Weapon X Project, has been contacted with request for guidance in implementing some of their more successful mind wiping and mental re-conditioning treatments.

It was our own experiments in Mental Implantations during the weeks of Sensory Deprivation that provided a breakthrough in re-programming the Winter Soldier's mind. With assistance from the Weapon X Program we shall be successful in the long term.

Hopes are high that, because he walks and talks like an American he will be our most successful operative against the United States to date. A sleeper agent from Mother Russia who exudes "America" with his every breath; our enemies will never see him coming.

Steve recognized the mention of the Weapon X Project immediately. That was the same program that created the X-Man known as Wolverine. He had embodied the persona of Weapon X himself, until he was freed from captivity within Dept. H. Cap now wondered if what had become of Logan in the hands of Dept. H, and in the aftermath of his torture, if that what was what was in store for Bucky. He certainly hoped for a better outcome.

As the minutes turned into hours, Natasha had gotten up a few times to refresh her drink and at one point Steve threw back his glass and gulped down the watered down bourbon. The ice cubes had long ago melted into the drink and he held the glass up over his head for her to take and refresh.

When Nat turned from the credenza to see Rogers' hand in the air holding the glass, she glanced at Dr. Golden. Emily just looked back at her with concern written on her face. Natasha reached for the empty glass and took it from Steve's hand. He never looked up from what he was reading. She refreshed his drink and placed it on the table in front of him as she returned to her seat.

As she settled onto the couch and raised her glass to take a sip, she was halted as Steve dropped the papers onto the folder in his lap. She watched him reach for the fresh glass of bourbon and he slugged it back in one long swallow. She and Dr. Golden looked to one another and, as Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Natasha could easily see his hands were shaking.

"Time for a break!" Emily suddenly voiced loudly to pull Steve out of his thoughts. It worked. He looked up at her with an askance expression. Emily stood up and smoothed her slacks. "We all need some fresh air and a little exercise," she explained.

"I'm good," he said, and put the glass down on the table.

"You might be good, but we need to take a break," she said in a more forceful tone. "Doctor's orders," she stated.

"Come on, Steve," Natasha invited him as she stood up, "it'll all be here when we get back."

Steve looked at the stack of papers on his lap and then nodded. He slid them onto the coffee table and stood up. He hadn't realized until he stood up that his entire body was coiled like a tight spring. He stretched his back and nodded at the ladies then followed them from the room. Every muscle in his body was trembling and he had to focus in order to walk without stumbling.

TBC