Avengers: Search for the Winter Soldier

Chapter 57: The Morning After

Summary: The morning after the fight in the elevator, Steve awakens feeling the effects from the altercation with an enraged Winter Soldier.

Notes: This chapter is dedicated to Lester_the_Olympian for your support of this story and your wonderful commentary. It's appreciated. – W6C

Steve stayed in the Soldier's room late into the night, long after the sedatives had taken him under. He sat by the bed studying the face of his best friend. At first his focus was on the present; the issues with the Soldier and the small victories they were rewarded with whenever he got a little time to spend with Bucky was great, but then… things always seemed to go to shit.

His thoughts went over the day's events; having the chance to spend time with Bucky over an impromptu pizza party was the best he could've hoped for and the fact that it had been Bucky's idea made it even better. Being able to reminisce with him over their shared past, even though Bucky's memories were quite clearly shattered, warmed Steve's heart to know he could remember at least little bits. Those bits were enough to jog Steve's memory and allowed him to fill in the missing pieces for his friend. That thought made him smile.

His smile faded slowly as his thoughts returned to worrying that this might be the best he could hope for; even so, he'd take it without question. It was really hard for him to see Barnes so broken; not only the loss of his memories but also his concurrent physical disabilities. As he sat there alone in the darkened room watching over his childhood friend, Steve realized how their roles had again reversed.

He clearly remembered how sickly he had been the first eighteen years of his life. After becoming a super soldier all the ailments and afflictions he'd suffered for his entire life had been instantly eradicated. However, becoming a super soldier wasn't Steve Rogers' greatest accomplishment. It wasn't even his accomplishment; it was Dr. Erskine's accomplishment, he had simply been the beneficiary of that enormous gift. But –

Steve knew as surely as he knew anything in his life to be true, the greatest gift he'd ever been given had always been the man now lying in the bed in front of him. How many times had he roused from a fevered sleep to find Bucky Barnes sitting beside his sick bed? How often had he awakened in the middle of the night to find him asleep, sitting in a wooden chair and using the edge of the mattress as a pillow because Bucky refused to leave his side? He remembered waking in the wee hours of the morning to see his mother sitting on the edge of the bed in her nurse's uniform, getting ready to go to work and knowing she could do so without worry because her son was in good hands with James Barnes looking after him. She had loved Bucky so much, treating him like a second son and he was always welcome at the Rogers' home.

Steve sat back, having to focus now on sealing up the emotions that threatened to overcome him. He owed Bucky so much more than he could ever repay, he knew that. He also knew that Bucky would never entertain any thought of repayment due him. He would just say it's what family does and he'd be right; which is the entire reason Steve found himself neck deep in this particular struggle. Bucky was his family and 'the end of the line' wasn't yet in sight.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands briskly over his face then looked up at the clock over the bed – 2:18 am. Steve decided it was time for him to get some rest too; knowing if they had to deal with another volatile episode he needed to be on his toes. He stood up and stretched, pausing a moment to look at his friend before leaving. He reached out and gently rested his hand on the top of the Soldier's head, hoping that somewhere inside Bucky could find comfort in his touch.

Before going upstairs to get some sleep he checked in with Sam who was on watch, offering to take over if he needed a break to use the restroom or get a cup of coffee. Sam assured him he was all set and wished him a pleasant sleep.

When he made it to his apartment he decided to forego a shower, opting to take one after a few hours of sleep and it turned out to be the right decision; as his head hit the pillow exhaustion pulled him under and Steve was out cold.

A repetitive sound stirred Steve from his slumber. He'd slept so deeply that it was taking an effort for his brain to come back online. He could hear the sounds again, somewhere in the distance. At first it sounded like it was miles away but as his brain became more alert, the closer the sound became until he realized it was someone knocking on his door.

He still hadn't opened his eyes and truth be told he felt as though he was hung over – really hung over. The room felt as though it was listing to one side so he rolled over. That movement took a lot of effort and he felt as though he was moving in slow motion.

There it was again - knocking.

He raised both eyebrows in an attempt to get his eyes to open. It didn't work and he moaned. His eyelids felt like lead weights pressing against his eyes. Opting instead to just feel his way to the edge of the bed, he sat up and that action didn't make things any better. He groaned and pressed his palm to his forehead.

Knock – knock – knock – knock.

He took a deep breath and let it out, hoping to get some oxygen into his blood stream and maybe that would help. He yawned and finally his eyes popped open. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on the clock beside the bed.

10:38 a.m.

"Oh man," he groaned, chastising himself for sleeping so late. "Coming," he said, barely louder than a whisper and stood up. He nearly fell into the wall a couple feet away but was able to catch himself as he reached out to grab hold of the door jamb. "Coming!" he called out to the person on the other side of the door so they would stop that blasted pounding.

He staggered out of his bedroom and across the open space of his dining room and living room area, pausing briefly to drink the last of warm orange juice sitting in a glass on the dining room table that he'd left there yesterday. He made a face at the sour taste of the warm liquid and carried the empty glass with him; leaving it on the island counter as he passed by to go unlock the door.

He made it to the door but found it was already unlocked and yanked it open. He leaned against it heavily, still trying to get his legs steady under him. It was Sam Wilson.

"Steve! Hey, man. You okay?" Sam asked, giving him the once over.

"Yeah," Steve answered wearily. "I'm okay. Just slept heavy is all."

"I can imagine," Wilson remarked and stepped inside. "You've been pushing yourself too hard these past few weeks. Bruce warned you."

"Yeah, I know," Steve replied as he closed the door.

Sam was already in the kitchen, preparing a fresh pot of coffee and banging pans that caused Steve to wince.

"Go take a shower," Sam told him. "I'll make breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry… I have a headache," Steve informed him.

"No shit," Sam commented sarcastically, "probably because you haven't been sleeping well or eating properly… and by the scrape on your right cheek I'd say you took a pretty good pounding too." Steve frowned and touched his cheek bone carefully. Yep, he was feeling it now. "Take a shower. By the time you're done I'll have breakfast on the table. We need to get you back in the game."

"Why? Did something happen?" Steve asked, suddenly a little more alert. "Is Bucky okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Sam told him. "I haven't been down there since my shift ended, but I haven't heard anything from Bruce yet and no alerts have gone out… so would you please - just focus on you for half an hour? Half an hour is all I'm asking… please."

"Okay, okay," Steve relented and headed for the bathroom. "Thanks, Sam," he added, waving his hand above his head as he disappeared and closed the door.

Wilson grinned as he cracked an egg into the pan, "Anytime."

After a long hot shower he felt more alert and ready for whatever the day might bring. When he exited the bathroom wearing only loose-fitting lounging pants and rubbing a towel briskly through his short cropped hair, Sam whistled softly and Steve stopped to look at him.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I guess the steam heat made it more visible."

"Man, he got you good. No wonder you had a headache," Sam told him, referring to the two large bruises on the right side of Steve's face. "Are you sure he didn't break bones?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Steve said, shrugging it off as he draped the towel around his neck and sat down to eat the meal Sam had made. "He landed a couple of punches. I can take a couple of punches," Steve told him with a wry grin.

Sam grinned with raised eyebrows; because he'd been there. He and Clint, together, had to pull the Winter Soldier off of Steve and tried like hell to get him out of the elevator. It was like wrestling a tornado… a very angry tornado. And it wasn't the first time either. Steve might be able to shrug off a high-powered left hook from the bionically-enhanced super soldier, but it took everything he and Clint had in them to simply pull him off the Captain. There was nothing simple about doing that either. They were two feet from the door of the elevator and they couldn't get him out of the lift because he was so enraged they couldn't fight him, keep their balance, and guide him out of the cubicle.

As soon as they had gotten him clear of Steve he nearly pulled them all to the floor. His enraged flailing kept everyone off balance, including Tony who had stepped inside to reach for Natasha. Steve saw his teammates' struggle and knew if the Soldier got both feet solidly under him they would be no match for him. So he did the only thing he could think of at the time and pounced on the Soldier, dragging him to the floor and using his full weight to pin the man down. Sam and Clint had no choice but to let go as Steve took over or they would have been dragged down too.

Now, after a long hot shower and a healthy breakfast that included two mugs of strong coffee and a tall glass of fresh orange juice, Steve's headache had subsided to a dull throb under his right eye and he felt almost human again.

"Get dressed," Sam told him as he gathered their plates. "I'll wait for you." As Steve disappeared into his bedroom, Sam loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

When they stepped off the elevator and turned the corner they saw Bruce standing outside the Soldier's room. The door was closed and he was propped against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked deep in thought, but not anxious or concerned, but - why was he standing in the hallway?

Steve exchanged a glance with Sam. As they approached, Bruce looked up and pushed away from the wall to greet them.

"Bruce?" Steve began.

"Hey, Steve… Sam."

"What's going on?" Steve asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he assured him.

Steve pointed toward the door, confused. "Is he awake?"

"Yeah, he's awake," Bruce told him.

"Why are you-?" he began, gesturing toward Bruce standing in the hall.

"Oh, Emily wanted a few minutes with him alone, so I stepped out," Bruce explained.

"She's in there with him alone?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Bruce told them.

"Is that-?" Steve began.

"- wise?" Sam interjected with great concern.

"It's been quiet, so I guess it was… wise," Bruce told them. "He woke up, umm… confused and… he seemed a little fearful," Bruce explained.

"Fearful?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Bruce nodded. "I'm pretty sure he didn't wake up the same person who we sedated last night."

"Is it Bucky?" Steve asked, hopeful.

"Honestly, I don't know," Bruce told him. "He hadn't actually said anything when I was in there."

"Can I go in?" he asked.

"Umm, w-well… let me check with Dr. Golden before you do," he suggested.

Steve nodded. He certainly didn't want to cause a disturbance if Dr. Golden was able to interact with him in a calm manner. Sam rested his hand on Steve's shoulder in support as Bruce closed the door behind him.

The door had barely shut when it suddenly opened again and Banner gestured for them to enter. Steve took a deep breath and let it out, pulled his shoulders back and stood tall as he stepped past Bruce.

Dr. Golden looked over at him and gave him a small smile. She was standing at the foot of the bed and obviously had been speaking to the man now sitting on the bed. He had one leg hanging over the side and his other bent in front of him. He turned his head to look at the two men entering the room. Steve had to force himself to keep breathing as Barnes - or the Soldier… or whoever it was, looked at him with an expression that clearly showed his confusion and fear at the circumstance in which he found himself.

Steve looked from his friend to Dr. Golden as if silently asking if he should speak to him. Emily straightened, nodded and took a step back out of the way, allowing Steve to take the lead.

"Hey," he said in greeting. The man looked him over and Steve wasn't sure if he was checking for weapons or if he was simply trying to figure out who he was. "How're you doing?" he asked.

The Soldier blinked and looked to Dr. Golden, as if needing a cue from her as to what to say or, perhaps silently asking for permission to speak. She smiled at him and gave a nod. He glanced around the room, at Sam and Dr. Banner then back to Steve.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked softly as he slowly stepped closer. The man nodded, but it was clear he was confused and unsure of what was happening.

As Steve approached, he used an indirect route, choosing to move closer to Dr. Golden at the foot of the bed in order to keep the man on the bed from feeling trapped or closed in. As he stopped beside Dr. Golden she noticed the two large bruises on his right cheek and touched his arm in concern.

"Captain, are you all right?" she asked, turning him toward her so she could get a better look.

"I'm fine," he told her, patting the hand on his arm. "Really, it'll heal quickly. I promise." Emily took assurance from him and removed her hand as he turned back to his friend. "Do you know me?" he asked. His friend looked at him uncertainly then looked at each person in the room before lowering his gaze to the mattress between himself and Dr. Golden. "It's okay if you don't remember me," Steve told him, "or if you're unsure. We're here to help you with that." At that, his friend looked up at him before looking away again. It was very clear that whoever he was speaking with did not wake up violent but did wake up as if disconnected from his surroundings. He just looked lost and confused and a little anxious. "Do you know who you are?" Steve asked as gently as he could manage.

The man looked up at him and then quickly to the other two men standing closer to the door. He turned back toward Steve but didn't look directly at him. He shook his head 'no' and that's when Steve noticed that his entire body was trembling. He was trying to hide his fear and was doing a pretty good job at it that he almost missed it.

"Can I tell you who you are?" Steve asked him.

Dr. Golden looked at him a little surprised but didn't interfere. She was actually proud of Captain Rogers for his approach. Most people would want to jump right in and try to make the amnesiac patient remember by forcing information on them that they weren't ready for. She looked back at the man on the bed and waited with Steve for his answer.

The man looked at Dr. Golden then slowly turned his gaze on the tall blond. He was breathing heavily but trying very hard to control the anxiety he could feel building. He finally looked Steve in the eyes and nodded slowly.

"Your name…" Steve began slowly and the man lowered his gaze, concentrating more on listening to his words. Steve realized this and allowed him a moment to comprehend the information he was being given. "Your name… is James… Buchanan… Barnes." He paused as the man lifted his head to look at him again. He couldn't tell if the name was familiar to him, but he decided to go on. "This is Dr. Golden, she… all of us, we're here to help you." The man stared at him, not looking away even as he gestured toward the others in the room. "I've known you… my entire life," Steve told him and the man just stared at him, listening. "I've always called you Bucky… that's your nickname." Steve told him but he couldn't tell if the man believed him or even understood what he was saying as he didn't react in any way, he simply stared at Steve. "You've known me your whole life," he told him. "My name is -."

"Steve," the man said softly as if he couldn't believe who was standing in front of him. And for Steve, in that moment the world stopped spinning.

TBC'd