Avengers: Hunt for the Winter Soldier
Chapter 9
The Ease of Handling
Steve almost ran down the corridor toward the room housing the Winter Soldier. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, even as he tried to stop them. His emotions were out of control, mixed up and confusing. The sense of guilt he'd held onto for seventy years was finally pouring out of him, literally. The devastation that he felt at having to watch his best friend fall to his supposed death; the survivor's guilt he'd kept buried deep inside for so many years was finally making itself known.
Steve was full of anger… at himself for not being brave enough to stretch his hand out just two more inches; anger at Bucky for putting himself in a position to protect him when he didn't need protecting; anger at the Russians for finding Bucky and handing him over to Hydra; anger at Hydra and people like Arnim Zola and, after him, Alexander Pierce who continued to abuse his friend for decades. He should have known. He should have felt it… right? Why didn't he? When two people have that kind of a connection their whole lives, don't they have some sort of extra-sensory thing? Shouldn't he have felt that Bucky was still alive? Why didn't he?
He reached and burst through the door, halting in step as the Soldier's head snapped up in surprise and the man on the bed looked at him with huge eyes. The Soldier's expression of surprise and - what was it? Expectation; was that what Steve was seeing? Was the Soldier expecting the worst from him? Yes, that expression of surprise and resignation; he'd immediately resigned himself to expect the worse from his captor. What was he thinking barging in the room in that manner? He wasn't thinking. He wasn't thinking at all.
The Soldier was bound to the bed, unable to react in his own defense in any way. "iAnd you thought it was a good idea to storm into the room like a crazed man out of control?"/i Steve realized what he'd just done as the two men stared at each other.
Steve swallowed hard as he tried to order his thoughts. His heart was pounding and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He took half a dozen steps toward the bed and stopped a few feet away. The Soldier was still staring at him; and it was obvious that he was wondering what the man was planning to do to him.
Steve realized how stupid his actions had been as he looked at the familiar stranger on the bed. He slowly raised his hand as if he was going to touch the man's hand. The Soldier's gaze dropped to watch his hand, wondering what he intended to do. Then the hand just stopped, inches away from his. It hovered there and the Soldier stared at it. When the hand didn't move again, his gaze moved back to the American's face. His face was flushed, his eyes were bloodshot and tears had left their tracks on his cheeks. The Soldier could tell the man was obviously distraught and not in control of his emotions and that could be dangerous. His survival instincts were immediately triggered; he went on alert and stared at the American. His whole body tensed and his gaze sharpened; stabbing right through the blond man looking down at him. Steve saw the shift clearly; those eyes were now filled with anger and resolve.
"I- I'm sorry," the American said. His hand moved and the Soldier looked down at it. The man had turned his hand palm up and stretched his fingers out as if he wanted the Soldier to take it. The Soldier scowled at it and then looked back up at the tall blond. "I'm so sorry," Steve choked out, dropping his hand.
The Soldier looked at the large blond man in confusion. Then, the man turned on his heel and left the room just as quickly as he'd entered. The Soldier stared at the empty doorway wondering what the hell just happened.
"He shouldn't be alone right now," Dr. Golden told Nat as she pulled the folder back together. "You should go after him. I'm going to go talk to the team."
Nat watched Dr. Golden as she closed up the folder. Emily turned to Natasha, now cradling the heavy folder in her arms. "Natasha."
Nat blinked, acknowledged her with a nod and walked out of the room. She knew he was going to see the Soldier. He needed to talk to his friend, but he wouldn't find his friend in that room down the hall. As she got closer she noticed the door to the room standing wide open but she wasn't hearing voices or activity coming from inside.
She quickly stepped into the door frame to see the Soldier still looking at the doorway. He appeared to be unsettled and in a hyper-alert state. That was precisely what they'd been trying to avoid. Her eyes darted around the room quickly just to be sure Steve wasn't standing in a corner being less obvious.
"He was here?" she asked the Soldier. He just stared back at her with a serious expression. "He was here," she stated, answering her own question. "Did he say where he was going?" she asked. The Soldier just stared at her. She gave him a few seconds but when she realized he wasn't answering her question she straightened her back and put on a serious face. "Did he?"
The Soldier gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and was left even more confused when the Widow turned on her heel and left quickly.
Natasha took the elevator to the main floor and went directly out the front door. She looked to her left, then to her right and tried to figure out where he may have gone. She doubted he'd left the compound so she decided to follow the path down to the gardens where they'd sat earlier with Dr. Golden.
When she got to the spot under the tree he wasn't there. Nat took a deep breath and looked around. She continued on the path as it wound its way through the gardens and out the back to an expansive yard of softly rolling hills. She knew of a small fishing pond on the far side of the lawn just through the trees so she made her way there.
As Nat came out of the narrow thicket of trees she saw him sitting on the fishing dock. He was sitting in a chair, hunched forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His head hung low and she hesitated about disturbing him. Sometimes a person just needed their own space. She had no issue giving him that space, but she needed to be sure he was okay before doing so.
Natasha walked slowly out onto the dock. Her steps were silent and careful, but Steve knew she was there by the small rhythmic vibrations of the boards under his feet. He didn't raise his head though as she came up behind him.
"I'm okay, Nat," he told her before she could decide how to proceed.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm worried about you."
He lifted his head and looked out across the pond's surface and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess I just needed a minute to breathe."
"I know," Nat replied, empathetically. "These things are not easy to take on. I think, sometimes, it can be harder on those who only know of them as words on paper. When it didn't happen to you, but to someone you care about… our imaginations can take on a life of their own. Often the reality isn't quite as bad as we let our imagination… and guilt… lead us to believe."
Steve twisted slightly in the chair to look at her over his shoulder. "You didn't read what I read," he told her. "There is no way my imagination is making it seem worse than the reality of it. They tortured and mutilated my best friend," he said. Just saying those words resulted in a surge of emotions and he took a few deep breaths to keep them from overpowering him again.
Natasha grabbed a folded lawn chair that had been left leaning against one of the support pillars nearby and brought it over to where he sat. She flipped it open and turned it to face him but stayed out of his direct line of sight so he could continue to look out over the pond. It was a tranquil place and it did appear to be soothing him so she didn't want to interrupt that sense of calm. She sat at his right knee and leaned forward to take his hand in hers. Steve looked at her and curled his fingers around hers.
"You're right," she told him. "I haven't read the files yet, but I lived it. I was there. I was there with him," she reminded Steve. "Those people… they were cruel and single-minded. They didn't care who they hurt, or how they hurt us, as long as it pushed us toward becoming the perfect weapons to forward their agenda." She paused to think about where she wanted to go with this line of thought and then squeezed his hand gently. "But we survived. I survived because of him… and he survived because of his own strength of will. He didn't fold under their onslaught. He fought them… for a long time. They broke his body and shattered his mind and he still continued to fight them. I think he is still fighting. I think… I believe he's in there, trapped inside his own darkness, waiting for us to pull him out of that hell and back into the light. He's broken… and he's lost, but he's alive. So we have a chance to save him."
Steve looked at her as he thought about her words. She was right, he realized. He nodded, making a personal vow to not allow his sorrow and grief to derail this mission. He sat back in the chair and straightened his posture. He released her hand and rubbed his palms on his thighs as if wiping away his own issues. Steve decided that no matter how hard this was for him, he would not shed anymore tears until Bucky was able to do the same.
"Thank you," he said. He nodded and took a deep cleansing breath and let it out. "I'm hungry."
Nat smiled at him. "Well, that could be because it's lunch time. Let's go get something to eat." She stood up and held out her hand.
Steve smiled at her and stood up as he took her hand. The two strolled back to the complex, enjoying the peace that surrounded them. The sunshine felt warm and healing and seemed to rejuvenate him every time he stepped outside. He hoped he'd be able to share this calm with Bucky soon.
They entered the assembly room and found Bruce in the kitchen area putting together half a dozen sandwiches and sides. He looked up as Natasha and Steve entered the room and approached him.
"Well, that all looks good," Steve said.
"I'm glad you think so," Bruce said with a smile. "It's your lunch."
"Oh," Steve replied. "Nice."
Bruce finished the last sandwich and cut it in half. He placed it on a plate with the others on a tray. He opened the refrigerator and took out half a dozen bottled drinks; three waters and three iced teas. He placed them in a basket and handed it to Natasha.
She gave him a quizzical look and then Bruce handed the tray to Steve. "I figured you might want to have lunch with your friend downstairs."
Steve smiled at him as he took the tray. "Thanks, Bruce."
"No problem," he said.
"You want to join us?" Steve invited.
"Nah," Bruce replied with a smile. "Right now he sees me as a doctor. I think what he needs is a couple of friends."
Natasha smiled at him and nodded. Steve also gave him an appreciative nod and turned to follow Nat to the elevator.
The two Avengers exited the elevator around the corner from where the Soldier was being held. As they turned the corner they both saw the door still standing wide open. They glanced at each other and hastened their steps but didn't run. Nat got there first as she was carrying the basket of drinks. Steve had to be a bit more careful not to jostle the tray of food.
She stepped up to the doorway and peered inside. The Soldier was still there – "Thank God," she thought silently. She glanced at Steve as he came up alongside her.
Steve looked at her questioningly and then leaned slightly toward her to look inside the room. The Soldier was still sitting in the raised position they'd left him in after his morning meal. His head was lowered slightly as if he was falling asleep but they both could see that his eyes were open. He was in a fugue state, staring toward his feet but his eyes were unfocused. It was that thousand yard stare that people fell into when their minds took them for a ride to places no one else could go, leaving their physical body behind like an empty vessel.
Slowly Nat and Steve entered the room, watching him closely. The rolling hospital table was standing near the door so Steve carefully put the tray of sandwiches down on it. Even the sound of the tray being set down didn't appear to alert the man to their presence.
Nat and Steve glanced at each other and walked slowly toward the bed. The Soldier remained still, staring into space… or perhaps deep within his own mind; it was hard to say. Steve moved up alongside the bedrail keeping his eyes on the Soldier, while Nat moved around the foot of the bed to the other side.
None of their movements pulled the Soldier from his fugue state. Steve had to wonder what he was doing; was Hydra communicating with him in some secret way or had he simply shut down mentally. It was hard to say. He thought about calling in Dr. Golden, but just at that moment the Soldier blinked once. He took a deep breath and let it back out and then blinked again. If Steve didn't know better he'd say the man had been drugged. He tilted his head trying to get a better look at the Soldier's face, but his hair had fallen forward, shielding his face from full view.
The Soldier slowly blinked a few more times as if his brain was crawling out of some deep dark hole to emerge into the sunlight. He slowly became aware of the man standing beside him, staring at him. His gaze shifted to the man's face, peering through the curtain of long bangs.
"Hey," Steve said, acknowledging him. "You okay?"
The Soldier lifted his head slightly, looking at the American with one unobstructed eye. Steve stared at that familiar blue eye, but the Soldier just looked at him as if confused and lost. Steve didn't sense any anger or aggression coming from him at the moment, so he raised his left hand slowly. The Soldier didn't move his gaze from Steve's face; he simply blinked at him slowly as if waking from a deep sleep. Steve brought his hand closer to the Soldier's face.
"Steve…" Nat cautioned. She worried that this quiet moment could erupt violently without warning. It had happened before.
Steve didn't acknowledge her; he held the Soldier's gaze as he carefully pinched a thick strand of hair between his finger and thumb and pulled it away from the side of his face, tucking it behind his ear. His knuckle lightly brushed the side of the man's face; far enough away from any vulnerable areas so as not to startle him, but it did test his reaction to being touched. The Soldier simply allowed it as their eyes stayed glued to one another. So Steve moved his finger closer to the Soldier's eye to pull another section from his face. The Soldier allowed it.
Steve turned his hand over and used all four fingers to sweep carefully across the Soldier's forehead, pulling away the rest of the long bangs concealing his features. As Steve's fingertips graced over the Soldier's skin his eyes dropped. Steve was certain he was focusing on the sensation that his fingers caused as they lightly touched his skin. After Steve got the last of it tucked away the Soldier raised his eyes again and studied Steve's face.
"You okay?" Steve asked him.
The Soldier thought about the question for a moment and then gave a single nod. The motion was a bit jerky, as if he was trying to remember how to nod.
"We brought food," Steve told him. "Sandwiches," he said as he went to get the table. He rolled it toward the bed and the Soldier just watched him. He seemed dazed and not quite sure what was going on.
"This is Natasha," Steve told him, gesturing with his hand toward the redhead to his left. The Soldier looked up at her with the same blank expression as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes dropped to the basket she was still holding.
"Drinks," she told him, pulling a bottle out for him to see.
"Are you hungry?" Steve asked.
The Soldier was still looking at Natasha as if studying her features. She wondered if he recognized her, so she smiled at him. He focused on her smile and then blinked rapidly as if suddenly waking up. He took a deep breath and looked at her, much more cognizant of her presence and then looked at the American and the tray stacked with sandwiches nearby.
Steve reached out and opened the shackle holding the Soldier's right arm to the bed. The Soldier didn't move it. Instead he sighed and dropped his gaze to the sheet covering his legs.
"You okay?" Steve asked again.
"Why do you keep asking me that?" the Soldier asked.
"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay… that you don't need anything," Steve explained. The Soldier's expression shifted looking slightly pained. As if there was something he wanted to say but was certain he shouldn't. "What is it?" Steve asked. "Do you need something?" The Soldier didn't answer. "Do you want something?" Steve asked instead.
The Soldier looked at him now with a confused expression. He wasn't supposed to want or need anything and he certainly wasn't supposed to ask for it. If he needed it then Hydra would provide it. As for wanting anything, the asset didn't deserve anything that wasn't needed for his own survival and his own survival was necessary only for the sake and advancement of Hydra. Instead of answering the question he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.
Steve blinked and sat back, his heart leapt into his throat as an image of Bucky doing that exact same thing when they were younger flashed through his head. They'd been sent to the principal's office for fighting on the school yard and the principal was beside himself, because even though the bullies being fought often changed, the one thing that remained the same was Bucky Barnes. He began to be seen as the troublemaker, even though he wasn't the antagonist. At first Bucky would defend himself against the accusations of the grown-ups, but after a while he didn't bother. Barnes always chewed on the inside of his bottom lip whenever he had something to say but knew it was best not to.
Natasha was still watching the Soldier closely and also noticed his response. She knew that the Soldier was programmed to want for nothing and he was certainly not supposed to ask for it.
"You're safe here," she told him. "I don't know if you remember, but you asked me earlier why I was here," she reminded him and he looked at her sidelong. "I told you that I had my eyes opened." He didn't respond in any manner so she wasn't sure if he even remembered that conversation. "I used to work for the KGB, just like you…"
The Soldier held her gaze, listening, but not moving.
"I found a way out," she told him. His eyebrows knitted together as if not understanding what that meant. "I was saved and given a new life, here. I was given a choice… an offer of something better."
He scowled and dropped his gaze. It was clear to both Avengers that the Soldier had no understanding of the things she spoke of. He was completely unaware that he could have a life free from pain and violence and memory wipes. He wasn't aware that he could have a life away from Hydra… or that he even deserved one. He belonged to them and they'd come for him.
Nat exchanged looks with Steve and they decided to step back from that particular focus right now and see if he would eat. Nat pulled a bottle of water from the basket and offered it to their guest and he stared at it. She looked down at the bindings holding his metal arm securely.
"Do you think we can take this one off?" she asked Steve.
Steve looked up at her wondering to what she was referring. His mouth opened in surprise when he realized she was suggesting that they free his bionic arm. "Umm… I don't know if that's…" He looked to the Soldier who was looking at him from the corner of his eye. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean… he might…"
"I won't hurt you," the Soldier said quietly. His voice stunned Steve who was now staring at him.
"How can we be sure?" Steve pointed out.
"I have no reason to harm you," the Soldier told him.
"Really..? I would think you'd have plenty of reason to harm us," Steve replied.
The Soldier shook his head slightly. "You're not my mission."
"Since when?" Steve asked, remembering quite clearly having his face beat to a bloody pulp while the Winter Soldier pinned him to the ground and told him clearly, 'You're my mission!'
The Soldier looked at him with a strained expression. He didn't understand the question since any memory he would have had of this American being part of any mission in the past had been wiped clean from his memory.
"Steve," Nat said to get his attention. When he looked to her she simply shook her head to indicate that the assassin clearly had no memory of him.
"Where are my clothes?" the Soldier asked.
"They're… being cleaned," Steve told him.
The Soldier pursed his lips together but said nothing.
Steve realized that being lashed to the bed and having his clothes taken from him was probably reminiscent of the treatment he got from Hydra; humiliating and de-humanizing. Steve shook his head and let out a sigh of exasperation; not toward his old friend but toward himself. Everything they'd done to keep him under control so far was probably similar to how his captors treated him. He had no reason to change his behavior because the behavior toward him hadn't changed; just the faces had.
"Geez-us," Steve whispered; kicking himself mentally. He tapped his earwig to open a channel and said," Dr. Banner? Can you come to the infirmary?"
"Sure. Is there an issue?" Bruce replied in his right ear.
The Soldier was now looking at him, wondering to whom he was speaking as he could only hear Steve's side of the conversation.
"No issue. On your way down here can you stop by my room and grab a tee shirt and a pair of jeans from my dresser?"
"Are you okay?" Banner asked.
"Yes. They're not for me. They're for our guest," Steve replied.
"Oh, okay. I'll be right there."
"Thank you," Steve acknowledged and gave the Soldier a small smile. "We're going to give you a fresh set of clothes. Okay?"
The Soldier just looked at him with a serious expression, but didn't respond. If he went back to base without his uniform, he didn't know how his handler would react. The one thing he knew for certain was that he was never to appear as a normal person; because he wasn't one. The handlers and wranglers made that clear to him all the time.
Steve and Nat made small talk as they waited for Bruce to arrive. It took him seven minutes from the time Steve beckoned him until he walked into the room. Nat and Steve looked up as he entered.
"Thanks, Bruce," Steve said, as Banner walked in and placed the small stack of folded clothes on the foot of the bed.
"I took the liberty of grabbing a pair of socks and underwear as well," Bruce told him.
"Of course," Steve said with a smile, realizing he'd forgotten that detail.
"I don't think he'll mind that they're yours," Bruce mentioned.
"No, I don't think so. Besides, everything gets sterilized in Tony's machines anyway," Steve reminded him.
"True," Bruce agreed.
"You want to join us for lunch?" Steve invited.
"You haven't eaten those sandwiches yet? They're going to be stale before you get to them."
"Well, we've been working our way there," Steve told him. "Natasha was wondering if we could release his left arm… make him more comfortable."
Bruce tried not to react negatively to that suggestion but he couldn't help it. He stared at Steve with large eyes as he froze in place. "You want to…. Remove…umm…"
"We have to start somewhere, Doctor," Steve reminded him.
"Uhhh, I… ummm..."
"He promised not to harm anyone," Steve told him. The Soldier looked at him, his face screwed up in confusion. Steve noticed the look and corrected his statement. "Okay he didn't actually promise, but he said he wouldn't hurt anyone."
"And you believe him?" Bruce asked, amazed.
Steve looked at the Soldier, the man who used to be his friend, who was looking back at him. There was something about his eyes… Steve shook himself from the thought and looked back to Banner. "I do."
Bruce sighed and walked to the left side of the bed. "Okay, this is on you though," he mentioned.
"It is," Steve agreed, nodding.
Bruce released the bindings holding the metal arm and stepped back. He watched the Soldier for a moment and then took his leave. "Call me if you need me… or the other guy," he mentioned, letting them know the Hulk will be available to take the Soldier down if they had to and couldn't.
"Thanks, Bruce," Steve said with a smile. He waited for Banner to exit the room and was pleased when he closed the door behind him. That small action gave their visit with their guest a sense of trust and privacy. He reached for the lavender colored tee shirt on top of the stack of clean clothes and unfolded it. The Soldier watched him. Steve turned to the Soldier, holding it out to him. "You want to slip this on before we eat? You'll probably be more comfortable."
The Soldier just looked at the shirt. That's not what he's supposed to wear. It usually took half a dozen hands to get him suited up properly. What was he supposed to do with that?
Nat and Steve looked to each other. Nat shrugged. "I don't think he knows … how to put that on… maybe? It's not what he usually wears."
"Oh," Steve said, realizing she may be right. "Here," Steve offered and leaned toward the Soldier as he gathered the fabric up to the collar. "You just slip it over your head, like this…" Steve told him. The Soldier looked up as Steve's hands went above his head. He was still looking up as Steve pulled the shirt down over his head then he looked down at it hanging around his shoulders. Steve moved his hands to the sleeve closest to him and held it open. "You just put your arm through here…"
The Soldier hesitated a moment and then slowly raised his hand and put it through the hole; stretching his arm out to get it all the way through. He then sat there looking down at it, but didn't move to put his left arm through the other sleeve. He just looked at Steve. Steve looked to Nat.
She put the basket down on the bed by his legs and reached slowly for the other sleeve. The Soldier turned his head to watch her do the same thing the man known as Steve had done. She held the sleeve open and just looked at him with a small hopeful grin. The Soldier lifted his left hand from the cradle of the shackle where it had been held for days and flexed his fingers.
Nat and Steve held their breath as they watched him. The fingers made a soft whirring sound only noticeable because there were no other sounds inside the room with them. The Soldier looked at her hands holding the fabric open for him and he raised his hand and put it through, stretching out his arm. The metal brushed against Natasha's hands as he put it through the arm hole. It was cool to the touch and felt smooth as glass.
"Sit forward," she told him and he leaned forward so she could pull the shirt down over his torso. Steve found himself thankful that he didn't have to look at those ugly scars on Bucky's chest any longer.
"Better?" Steve asked once Nat got him settled and he sat back again. The Soldier just looked at him as if not understanding the question. "Never mind," Steve said with a grin. He pulled the table closer until it was centered over the bed where they all could reach it.
Nat took the drinks out of the basket and placed them all on the tray table. The Soldier watched as she and Steve chose their drinks and half a sandwich from the plate. He watched them as they each took a bite of their halves. He made no attempt to reach for one himself, so Steve looked at the choices and picked a ham and cheese with mustard for Bucky. It used to be his favorite many years ago. He held it up and the Soldier just looked at it.
"Here," Steve gestured for him to take it. "Eat it."
The Soldier took it from him and looked at it closely. He sniffed it and then took a bite. Just as before he chewed it slowly as if focused on all the flavors on his tongue; Steve had to wonder what exactly Hydra fed him, if anything at all.
"Water or tea?" Nat asked him, picking one of each off the table.
The Soldier again, simply looked at her as if it didn't matter and he didn't know how to choose. Natasha sighed, realizing his conditioning was so deeply rooted that his captors had succeeded in completely removing any desire or preference from his psyche. She chose water and opened the bottle before placing it directly in front of him. Once she removed her hand from it, he grabbed it with his left hand and guzzled the entire thing. It was ice cold and not something he was used to, he gasped with the pain in his temple as the cold liquid caused brain freeze.
"Yikes, yeah you might want to drink these slower. Sorry, I should have warned you they are ice cold," she apologized.
He pressed his metal hand to his left temple, waiting for the pain to subside but never made a verbal sound through the pain. Once the freeze subsided and he got himself back under control he began to eat his sandwich slowly. Each time he finished a half he'd just sit there until Steve picked up another and offered it to him.; this time he chose turkey and cheese with mayo. He took it when offered, but wouldn't move to take one for himself. Those were details both he and Nat picked up on easily. After he'd finished three halves, Steve offered him a fourth piece; the Soldier shook his head no. Steve smiled and put it back on the plate.
Nat offered him another bottle of water but he looked at it and shook his head again. She wasn't sure if he declined it because he wasn't thirsty or because it had caused him pain. She put the bottles back into the basket and Steve pulled the table away from the bed. He left it by the door and came back to stand beside the bed. He noticed the Soldier had already placed his hands back in the cradles of the shackles waiting to be locked up again. That pained Steve more than he thought it could have.
"Umm, do you feel like getting out of that bed for a while?" Steve asked him.
The Soldier looked up at him with a glint in his eyes, which disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and he averted his gaze. It was clear he did want to get out of the bed, but didn't want that longing to be seen so he squelched it fast.
"Come on," Steve invited him and as the Soldier sat up and threw off the sheet both he and Nat remembered too late that he was naked under the covering.
Nat caught a glimpse of him before she was able to turn her back. The Soldier paused and looked at her in question as she suddenly spun around. He continued his move until his feet touched the floor but he was still leaning against the mattress.
"Here," Steve said, pulling the Soldier's attention back to him. He held out the briefs. "Put these on first. You'll be more comfortable when you put the jeans on."
The Soldier looked at them as Steve held them up for him to see. He looked confused for a moment so Steve bent down to slip one leg hole over his foot.
"Put your other foot in there and pull them up," he instructed. He waited as the Soldier complied. "Now these," he said, handing him the blue jeans.
The Soldier slipped his feet into them and pulled them up. He looked at how they fastened and saw they fastened the same as his uniform so he zipped them and secured the snap button. He stood there bare-footed looking at Steve. Steve looked down at his feet and picked up the socks. He noticed Natasha still had her back turned to them.
"Nat, you can turn around," he told her. She turned and smiled at him. "You want to do this part?" Steve asked her, holding out the socks.
Natasha grinned and came around the bed to take them from him. "It's so strange," she told him as she rolled one of the socks down on itself. As she spoke to Steve she put her hand on the Soldier's chest to press him backward, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. She reached down to lift one of his feet and began rolling the sock onto his foot. "I'd completely forgotten that the handler teams were the ones to dress us and provide us with whatever weapons and equipment we needed." She pulled up the sock and made sure it was straight so it'd be comfortable when he walked and then handed the Soldier the other sock. He took her lead and put the sock on his other foot.
Steve smiled at her. The ease with which she handled the Soldier and seemed to know and understand where his mind was at any given moment was a real asset to dealing with him. She provided a sense of the familiar to him while at the same time re-directing his known training toward something more autonomous. The Soldier followed her guidance as he had been conditioned to do with all of his handlers.
"Better?" Steve asked him, hoping he was feeling more comfortable now that he had clothes on. The Soldier simply looked at him and then averted his gaze. He was not to acknowledge such things. Steve's expression fell, realizing he couldn't even get his old friend to acknowledge whether he felt comfortable or safe.
"We'll get there," Nat told Steve. "It'll take time… we'll get there."
TBC'd