Avengers: Search for the Winter Soldier, Chapter 27

Title: F*** Hydra

Summary: The team pulls together to help the Soldier through an emergency situation.

The Soldier forced his eyes to open in order to try to figure out what was happening to him. He succeeded in getting them open but his vision was blurred and he couldn't make out where he was or who was with him. He could hear voices and movement around him, but he was at a disadvantage. He tried to pull away from the hand that grabbed his arm, but that only resulted in another hand coming down on his shoulder.

Steve tried to reassure the Soldier that he was safe as he attempted to pull away from his touch; he dropped a steadying hand onto the man's shoulder.

His heart was racing and his breathing followed suit to try to keep up with demand. He leaned away from the hands and turned his face away; unsure what they were trying to do to him.

"It's okay," Steve told him. "You're safe. You're okay." He kept his voice calm and his tone soft, but neither seemed to alleviate the panic clearly settling over the Soldier.

He tried to sit up, in an attempt to gain a measure of equal footing with his captors. He didn't know what they were doing to him; all he did know was that he wasn't feeling well at all and that put him at their mercy. As he leaned away from Steve; trying to sit up, a sound was forced from his throat. He immediately captured the sound and squashed it.

Show no fear. Show no pain. No weakness.

"Hey, take it easy. Come on, pal. You're okay. You're safe," Steve told him.

Come on, pal

Those words resonated in his brain and he felt as though he had heard them before. They meant something. He was certain he was supposed to know what they meant. They meant something. They were going to ask him what they meant and he couldn't tell them. He didn't know. It wasn't just the words either… the voice… it was familiar.

Why?

His stomach turned over and his throat closed. He pulled his knees up and tried to curl over onto himself as he retched. He was too weak to sit up and fell over to the left, his cheek coming to rest on the cool plastic of the bed rail.

Steve kept a hand on his forearm as he attempted to keep him from rolling over the side as he'd done earlier. He used his other hand to press the release lever on the bed rail directly in front of him and lowered it out of the way. He put one knee up on the mattress for leverage and tried to pull the Soldier back to the center of the bed.

"Can we lower this?" Steve asked no one in particular.

Bruce kicked the foot pedal under the bed to unlock it and pressed his foot down on it. The bed began to lower toward the floor and the precarious position Steve was in caused him to lose his balance so he spun and dropped down to sit in the spot where the Soldier had been originally.

"Careful of the IV," Bruce cautioned him as he got himself positioned on the bed.

Steve pulled his friend back toward him, but was met with resistance. The Soldier retched again as his stomach turned over. He had nothing in his system to throw up though, but that didn't make the situation any easier on him. If it was possible, not having anything to move was more painful than the physical act of vomiting. He held onto the left rail tightly as he curled in on himself. Steve wrapped his arm around him and used all his strength to pull the man up to rest against his chest. The cold cloth had been dislodged and fell to the floor when he'd tried to pull himself over the side.

Dr. Golden retrieved it from the floor and hurried into the bathroom. She dropped that cloth onto the floor under the sink and grabbed a hand towel. The towel was slightly larger than a wash cloth and would retain the cool temperature a little longer… she hoped. She soaked the towel and wrung it out then returned to the room. She folded it quickly and placed it on his forehead and Steve instinctively put his hand on it to hold it in place. He now sat against the raised bed, cradling his friend in his arms.

The Soldier moaned and even cried out now and again as the negative sensations overtook him. He was delirious and fevered and had no idea what was happening to him. Steve kept one arm wrapped around him to hold him in place and began to rock side to side slightly.

"You're okay," he told his friend. "I got you. You're going to be okay."

The Soldier moaned and heaved again. Just that action alone appeared to be extremely painful for him. His whole body trembled in Steve's arms and when he forcefully gagged again, his abdomen tightened so hard that it took everything Steve had to deliberately hold him upright. The Soldier's right hand came up and gripped Steve's forearm hard as if pleading for him to make the sensation stop.

Natasha tried to straighten the blanket that had gotten pulled up and was now wrapped around the Soldier's drawn up legs. Dr. Golden offered her another and the two of them opened it and draped it over him. She laid her hand on his drawn up leg and could feel the heat from him through the two blankets. He was shivering so hard in Steve's arms it nearly looked like he was seizing.

"Can I get another cold cloth?" Steve asked, feeling the cloth under his hand had already turned warm against the Soldier's forehead. "Bruce? He's in trouble," Steve told him.

Bruce grabbed his no-contact thermometer and aimed it at the man's forehead as he walked over to him. He was still a foot away when the machine alarmed. Bruce looked at the read out. "105.3…" he said and looked at Steve. Emily stepped out of the bathroom with a fresh wet towel, stopping when she saw Bruce quickly strip the blanket off the bed. "Shower! Now!" he declared. "Emily…" he alerted her, pointing into the bathroom and reached across the bed to pull the IV tube from the needle and taped the needle back down quickly.

Dr. Golden immediately turned around and moved to turn on the shower. The water came out cold and she carefully adjusted it until it felt warm. She was quite aware that if they were taking such a drastic measure then his temperature was at a level that even warm water was going to feel like ice to him. Cold water against his heated flesh would put him into shock. They had to bring down his temperature gradually.

In the other room, Bruce reached down and grabbed the Soldier by the arms to pull him up away from Steve so Rogers could get to his feet. Steve scrambled off the bed and pulled the Soldier into his arms and moved to the shower with him as quickly as he could.

When he reached the shower stall, Steve simply walked into it fully clothed. His shoes helped him keep his footing on the wet tile as the warm water hit them the Soldier screamed and reacted to what his brain and body registered as an ice cold waterfall. He immediately bucked in Steve's arms and Cap lost his grip on the man's legs. As his feet came down on the floor, Steve dragged him to the floor with Bruce helping to guide them down. Steve wrapped his arms around Barnes and held on tight as his friend screamed for them to stop. He begged and fought against Steve and pushed Bruce away whenever he tried to help Steve.

"Noooooooo!" the Soldier shouted. His feet were now in the corner of the stall and he used the wall as leverage, pushing out away from the wall and Steve had to wrestle to keep him under the lukewarm stream. "Please, stop! Please! It hurts! It hurts!"

"I'm so sorry, Buck," Steve told him. Even under the warm water washing over him he could feel the intense heat coming off the man in his arms. "I'm with you, pal. I'm right here with you."

"Til... the end-," the Soldier stammered even in his panic.

"What?" Steve reacted to the three words and froze. He stared at Bruce and then Natasha. She stared back at him, as she had picked up on that as well. Steve had told her many times the mantra he and Sgt. Barnes used to repeat to each other … seventy years ago. "Did he say-?"

"He did," Natasha told him.

"I'm right here, Buck," he told the Soldier, hoping Barnes was able to hear him. "I've got you." He wrapped his arms around his friend tightly, realizing he'd gone limp in his arms. The shock of the water against his overheated skin had caused him to pass out. Steve just held him, rocking his friend in his arms as they waited for his fever to break. Bruce and Natasha remained close by, kneeling just outside the shower stall.

Steve had been sitting and holding Bucky under the water stream for about fifteen minutes when he became aware that his skin didn't feel quite like the furnace it had been. "Bruce? I think his temp is coming down. He feels cooler," he informed Banner. With his arms wrapped around his friend he rested one hand on Barnes' forehead.

Steve moved his hand as Bruce reached out to lay his hand on the Soldier's forehead. He made note of how Steve was holding him, his head and face were clearly angled just right so the water cascaded over him without threatening aspiration of the water.

"He's a lot cooler," Bruce agreed, "but his temperature is still elevated. This particular scenario may become a regular thing for a few days," he told them.

Steve nodded. He didn't mind. He was fully clothed and his jeans and boots were water logged. He didn't care. All that mattered to him was Bucky and getting him back after all these years. That thought hit him hard and he pulled the Soldier tighter to his chest. Laying his cheek atop the man's head Steven Rogers let his tears fall again.

Natasha watched him. It was hard to tell if he was actually crying due to the water cascading down his face, but she also realized that it would be the perfect cover for him to do so with a sense of privacy.

Another fifteen minutes passed and the water started to go cold. Just as Steve became aware of the change in its temperature he also realized the Soldier's teeth were chattering. Steve reached up and pulled the lever to shut down the water flow and quickly checked the Soldier's condition.

"Bruce?" he said as he shifted on the floor. "I think he's out of danger. He's still shivering… but his skin is cold now."

Banner came over with a towel and crouched down to touch the Soldier's face. "Yep, fever broke. Let's get him dried off and back to bed."

Steve cradled the man against him as Bruce stripped off the soaked gown and the shorts Steve had insisted on. Natasha dropped a couple more towels on the floor beside Bruce and gathered up the wet clothes and towels to dispose of in the laundry bin. Dr. Golden had left the bathroom and returned now with a fresh set of bed clothes.

Bruce and Steve got him as dried off as they possibly could and redressed. Steve stripped off his wet tee shirt and quickly dried his arms and chest before picking up the Soldier. They got him back to bed and draped in dry blankets. Bruce replaced the IV tube so he could get the hydration his body really needed to stave off the life threatening fevers. He used the thermometer again to get an exact temperature reading – 98.2. He then decided to get a full set of vitals and took out a BP cuff and stethoscope.

"I'll go get you some fresh clothes," Natasha offered to Steve who gave her a grateful smile. "I'll bring you a couple of sets, just in case."

"Socks and shoes too," Steve mentioned and bent his toe against the floor to hear his boot make a squishy sound.

"You got it," she said and headed out to get him some dry clothes.

Steve got himself out of his wet clothes and into some dry ones and came out of the bathroom in bare feet. He held up the flip flops that he'd found stuffed between the folded shirt and jeans.

"Very funny, Nat," he said.

Natasha smiled. "Well, I figured… shower shoes might be a better option. If you have to douse him again, you're going to go through your entire closet of boots and sneakers in no time."

"That may be," Steve agreed, "but boots and sneakers lend more protection and solid footing during wrestling matches."

Natasha shrugged, still grinning. "Just give them a try. If they really don't work for you, we can go back to real shoes."

Steve dropped the sandals on the floor and stuffed his feet into them, his toes doing a type of crawl as they seated his feet properly. "Well, thanks for thinking of me… and my wardrobe."

He looked at the man asleep on the bed. His smile faded as his thoughts turned to memories and the fact that this man was once his best friend. Why was it when he was soaking wet, or sound asleep, all Steve could see in him was James Barnes?

Natasha watched him as he looked upon the Soldier. She could easily see his expression change as his eyes took on that glazed, thousand-yard stare; the same stare that the Soldier often had when he'd dissociate from the goings on around him. She knew what he was thinking about and it made her heart sad for him. There was no guarantee that they could recover his old friend and Nat knew that was the one thing Steve Rogers was hanging all his hopes on.

Steve reached out a hand and gentle fingers swept back the long wisps of hair that were stuck to the side of his face. He let his fingertips glide behind the Soldier's ear to tuck the wayward strands there then he rested the back of his fingers against the man's cheek. He looked over at Natasha to see that she was watching him with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"He's a lot cooler now," Steve informed her and she nodded.

The Soldier's head tilted away from his hand and Steve withdrew it. A breath was forced out of his mouth as the Soldier regained consciousness. His face scrunched into a distasteful grimace as he swallowed heavily before attempting to open his eyes.

Steve watched him silently; unsure of what state he would be in upon waking. His face had turned away from him and when he opened his eyes the first person the Soldier saw was Natasha.

"Mysh," the Soldier said in recognition. His right hand lifted and gripped the bed rail; the muscles of his arm tensed and bunched up; a telltale sign that he was attempting to reposition himself, but other than the flexion of his muscles, he didn't have the strength.

He'd been placed back in bed with the head raised at a 45* angle in case he became nauseated again. The position, according to Bruce, would help alleviate the sensation of vertigo which had appeared to be an issue earlier. Bruce had hooked up the IV again because his priority at the moment was keeping his patient hydrated. He'd explained to Steve that hydration was going to be key in keeping him balanced both physically and psychologically. The brain needed fluids to heal itself and to function at its best, regardless of the other issues it was contending with at the moment.

"Mysh," he repeated and the single syllable seemed to take a lot out of him. His eyes closed again and his breathing became loud and labored as if the simple act of speaking was exhausting.

Natasha stood up when she was beckoned the second time and moved up to the side of the bed.

"I'm here," she told him.

"Mne trebuyetsya vasha pomoshch," he said. I need your help

"We are helping you," she told him in English so Steve could follow their exchange. She inhaled through her nose as an interesting fragrance caught her attention. She leaned toward him slightly and slowly inhaled again. She looked up at Steve, who was watching her with interest. "Do you smell that?" she asked him.

Steve leaned closer to him and inhaled with focused attention. "Oh, yeah… I noticed that when I had him in my arms in the shower. I thought it was my imagination. It's almost… metallic."

Natasha nodded in agreement.

"That's the drugs leaving his system," Bruce informed them as he came back in the room.

"You serious?" Steve asked.

Dr. Banner nodded and opened his bag as he set it down on his makeshift desk in the corner. He turned around and looked at the man on the bed who was now awake but seemed out of it. When he lifted his head from the pillow to try to look around, his head appeared to be too heavy for him to control in his weakened state. He was also fighting to keep his eyes opened and trying to focus on the people in the room. "Yes, I'm afraid I'm being quite serious," Bruce replied. "He's so saturated with those drugs that they're literally seeping out through his pores. It's the odor of manmade chemicals you're detecting."

"Mysh, otpusti menya," he said, forcing the words out, barely audible as his voice cracked and the words broke up in exhaustion.

"He's back to Russian," Steve pointed out unnecessarily.

"He's asking me to help him," Natasha translated. "He's telling me to let him go."

"Okay," Steve said, taking a deep breath, "Back to square one."

"For now," Bruce reminded him. "Remember, his brain is misfiring. I think we're going to see a lot of personality changes through this process." He told them as Dr. Golden entered the room.

"We definitely will," she agreed. "So far we've seen three distinct and separate personalities, or at the very least three different levels of conditioning of the same personality. At this point, it's really hard for me to say which, but if I tell you to treat each recognizable personality shift as its own distinct person… I don't think we'd be doing him any harm at this point… and it'll be easier for us to keep track of the shifts. We've seen the Winter Soldier, who clearly doesn't trust any of us… except maybe Natasha," she pointed out. "We've all seen and interacted with the one we've been referring to as Soldat, who is more cautious and fearful and much easier to control and handle… and we've seen, however briefly, the one – I believe – came first; Sgt. Barnes, sick and traumatized and abused, but still fighting to survive. He's still in there," she told them with confidence. "I'm sure of it."

The last made Steve smile softly with a sense of hope.

The Soldier's metal hand came down hard on the bed rail and the sound made Steve jump. With both hands now on the rails, he was determined to try to get up and succeeded in pulling himself forward away from the pillow which slid down behind his back as he lifted his torso forward.

"Okay, easy there," Steve said, putting his left hand against the Soldier's metal shoulder. His right hand replaced the pillow where it had been as he pushed the man backward to rest against the bed again.

"Chto ty delayesh' so mnoy?" the Soldier shouted angrily in a burst of newly found energy. Steve glanced at Natasha.

"He asked what are you doing to me?" she translated for them. No one attempted to explain to him what was happening. They knew in this state he would be nothing but argumentative and distrustful. Natasha then looked at him and directed her next comment to him. "Speak English," she told him.

"Aghhhh!" he shouted in frustration at her. "YA otkazyvayus'! YA ne budu s nimi razgovarivat'!" he yelled at her, now pushing forcefully against Steve's restraining hand on his shoulder.

"What did he say?" Steve asked.

Natasha stared at the man now glaring at her from the hospital bed. "He said iI refuse. I will not speak to them."/i

"This one chooses to be Hydra," Steve concluded, sounding disappointed.

The man on the bed turned his angry gaze on Steve and bared his teeth. He took a slow breath and growled out two words in Russian. "Trakhni gidru."

Steve stared at the Soldier. The intensity of his expression and the words he nearly spat out like poison seemed to transfix Rogers. He didn't know why. He didn't understand the words, but he clearly understood the tone and expression.

"He said," Natasha's voice floated to him through the haze, "Fuck Hydra."