"Are you sure about that?" It's the weirdest thing; my senses are completely trained on Steve and I constantly forget about his friends. "You don't look like you're able to stand, let alone walk."

"I'm sure," he says in a final tone.

Steve tries to get to his feet, but as he's bound to fail, I move quickly, helping him up and supporting him. He still refuses to let go though. Instead of holding onto my wrist, his hand suddenly slides lower and he wraps his fingers around mine and intertwining them, which, thankfully, makes it easier for me to help him stay on his feet. I wish he'd let go though. For some reason, his touch unnerves and reassures me, both at the same time and I don't know what to make of that. Why is everything so damn confusing?

"Let's get him onto the chopper." Fury is already on the move, getting the helicopter started again.

Romanoff and the other guy monitor me closely, but don't attempt to help. It's up to me apparently. Steve is a dead weight against me and in the end I'm carrying most of his weight, practically dragging him along. If only he would let go. This is the perfect moment for me to make a run for it. Once I stop supporting him, Steve will go down and his friends will be too worried about him in order to come after me.

I wriggle my fingers in an attempt to free my hand, but Steve merely tightens the hold again. My tactic actually backfired; Steve is holding on as tightly as he can, almost to the point of cutting off the blood supply to my fingers.

"Ease up, or I might have to break your fingers anyway," I warn him. I'm willing to let him get away with a lot – as it seems - but that's where I draw the line.

Steve seems to realize why I said that and complies, but only marginally. I carefully flex my fingers, getting the blood supply going again. The arm has gone numb, which isn't a good sign, but at the moment, the lack of pain is a blessing.

"Help me," I tell Romanoff once the two of them are inside the chopper. They pull Steve onto the seat while I'm forced to move along and to sit down next to him. Steve's hold really restricts my space.

"Hold on, back there," Fury announces. "We're heading for the hospital."

I read between the lines and hear what he's not saying. It's in his tone and the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching. He wants to arrest me, put me away, and get me away from Steve. I even understand that he wants to do away with the threat I represent. I would do the same thing if I was in his position. He'll use the first opportunity he'll get. I need to be quicker though. The moment Steve finally lets go, I need to make a run for it. Steve suddenly slides toward me and ends up resting his head against my shoulder.

I freeze in shock at the unexpected contact. Once the surprise wears off, I wonder what to do. Should I push him off? But he's wounded. Instead I fight down the urge to pull him close and to hold him. Romanoff's grin catches me off guard. Why does she look amused? She can't know what I'm thinking.

"Sam, something tells me we will have a hard time separating those two!"

So his name is Sam. I file the information away and hope I won't forget it. His name is Sam, and my former target's name is Steve. Steve and Sam... I should be able to remember those. Sam and Steve, Steve and Sam. Damn, I'm making myself dizzy repeating their names. It always happens when I try to commit something to memory, or even worse, to remember something.

"You might me right," Sam replies.

The underlying tone in his voice is hostile. I recognize it at once. Romanoff and Fury sound different when they address me. This guy though... what was his name again? Was it Sam? He sounds like he can't wait to put that bullet in my head and finish me off. Oh wait; he's no longer pointing that gun at me. When did he put it away and why didn't I notice? Probably because my senses are currently trained on the wounded man resting against me.

"We're about to land. I informed Hill and Coulson and they're waiting for us. We need to be quick about this and to get him inside without drawing attention," Fury says.

My chances of escape dwindle with each passing minute. The moment we land there will be a large number of Shield Agents to take me in. The only reason why Romanoff and... the other guy – fuck, I forgot his name again – aren't arresting me is because they might injure Steve while taking me down. Maybe I should stop telling Steve to let go. At the moment, he's the only thing keeping me safe.

The chopper touches down, and as expected, a load of people are waiting for us. There are some doctors, easily recognizable because of their white coats, nurses, and then there are two more suits, Shield agents of course. I'm surprised there aren't more of them around. I expected a much larger welcoming committee on Shield's part.

"Steve, this must stop now. You need to let go. We need to check on you and they may even have to operate on you. You can't keep holding onto him. You need to let go," Fury says, sounding vexed.

"You should listen to him," I say, trying to get through to him again. "You need to let go." I do realize that Steve letting go of me means I'll get arrested within seconds. That is, in case they merely want to arrest me. Why take chances? They'll probably execute me on the spot, the moment Steve is out of sight.

"No, I'm not letting you go."

"You stubborn oaf!" escapes me and I blink in surprise. Where did that come from? Why did I say that? Steve manages to move his head slightly so he can look at me and I cringe at being confronted with the damage I did to his face all over again. I feel the need to apologize, but manage to swallow the words. I can't show any weakness in front of Shield. First I need to find out what is going to happen to me and then why I'm reacting like this. Everything seems to revolve around Steve. Why?

"You know what I'm like –stupid and stubborn. I refuse to lose you again. Now that I have finally found you, I'm not letting go," Steve says in a tense voice. It's obvious he means business.

Trying to change his mind won't work; I somehow know that. I wish I knew how I know him so well.

"This is stupid," I berate him. "You need medical attention. Why are you making it so hard for them to help you?" Now that the chopper is shutting down, it's time to get him onto that stretcher. "Move it." If he doesn't cooperate, I will pick him up and deposit him onto that stretcher.

"Yes, sir," Steve whispers and actually grins – a bit, and rather painfully.

I shake my head at his stubbornness and do my best to steady him when he gets to his feet. He feels stronger than before; he is already recovering from our fight. I succeed in helping him sit down, but he refuses to lie down.

"You're wounded," I remind him. "There's no shame in lying down and letting them help!" Now I'm growing annoyed with him too. How many times did I shoot him? It's a miracle he's still alive and he stills refuses to cooperate!

"You're injured too," he says softly and searches my face.

All I can think about is Steve – us – and I need to remind myself of the precarious situation I'm in. I'm surrounded by Shield agents and one trigger happy finger will be the end of me. Instead, I'm stuck here arguing with him. If he continues like that, he's going to be the death of me.

"You need to keep up with him," Fury says as the medics start moving the stretcher.

Fury is much too close for my personal taste, but there's nothing I can do about so I speed up and walk next to the stretcher.

"You have to let go at some point," I tell Steve, who is still giving me that odd look.

"Maybe, but not yet."

He keeps watching me. For some elusive reason he seems really happy to see me and he's not going to let go of my hand. There's not a damn thing I can do about it, except hurt him while freeing myself.

They roll him into an exam room and I fight the shivers running down my spine. I hate everything that even resembles an exam room. I used to know why, but after that last mind wipe, I can't seem to find the right memory. I just hate it in here.

"I'm Doctor Davis and we need to exam our patient. Please let go, you're in the way," a doctor tells me. He looks surprisingly young to be a qualified physician, but he doesn't back down when I try to stare him into submission. Instead, he gives me an admonishing look. It looks like I need to explain this again.

"He refuses to let go of me. It's the other way around." Maybe now he'll understand what's going on. "He won't listen to me."

"Oh." The doctor looks more closely and seems to get the predicament I'm in. "Sorry for telling you off when he's the problem instead. Captain, you need to let go now. We can't examine and treat your injuries if you don't."

I'm under the impression that Steve's finally thinking it over and he might actually comply. Maybe it will help if I repeat the doctor's request.

"He's right. Let go." He can't protect me forever and I willingly surrender to my fate. Let Shield take me out of the game.

"Nick," Steve suddenly whispers and searches for his friend, who quickly moves into his line of sight. He's still holding on to my hand though.

"I'm here," Fury assures him and moves closer. "What is it?"

"I need you to promise me something."

Is he really going to argue with his superior when they should be treating his injuries? Apparently yes, which doesn't just make him stubborn, but stupid too. What if he's bleeding to death right now? He's losing a huge amount of blood, which worries me. There are too many wounds and they need to start working on him ASAP.

"What kind of promise?" Nick asks cautiously and exchanges a look with Romanoff.

"Promise me to keep Bucky safe. I want him to be there when I get out of surgery. Don't hurt him, Just don't. I vouch for him," Steve says in a tone that's part pleading and partly a threat.

I stare at Steve in surprise. Why is he doing this? Why does he want to protect me at all cost? I doubt Fury will agree. He's probably eager to take me in, question me, and in the best case scenario just lock me away.

"I promise, Cap, now let them do their job," Fury says and briefly touches Steve's shoulder.

I'm stunned to hear that, but Fury is most certainly lying as it will get him results the fastest; Steve will give in and then Shield has access to me. I already discarded fighting myself a way out. This is a hospital and I don't want to injure, or even worse kill, patients and medical staff. Steve wavers at hearing Fury's promise, and he promptly searches for Romanoff. She catches on, moves closer, and smiles at him.

"I know what's coming," she says. "You're easy to read." That earns her a lopsided smile. "Save your breath, Steve. I promise to look after Barnes. He's safe with us."

Barnes? Who's Barnes? I frown at realizing that the name sounds familiar. But why? Is it the name of another target Hydra once ordered me to kill? I can't be sure as my memories only go back some hours. Although I'm lost in thought, I instantly register Steve finally letting go of my hand. His grip loosens, and he squeezes my hand once before releasing me. A quick look tells me that he finally lost consciousness. I'm surprised he managed to hang on for this long.

"All right, people, let's do this!" Doctor Davis resolutely takes charge and they wheel Steve into the next room. I hate the fact that I can't stay with him and can only hope the doctors know what they are doing. The doors close behind them and a sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. My situation suddenly changed completely. I'm in a room with Shield agents, who are probably royally pissed off because I hurt their top agent.

Not knowing that to do, I fall back on Hydra's teachings. Lowering my head, I stare at the floor and keep completely still. I don't want to give them a reason to attack me and I try to appear as submissive as I can. Sometimes, that tactic worked with my handler and I got off easy.

Provoking or attacking Shield is the last thing on my mind, but they don't know that so I have to show them. Assaulting them wouldn't get me anywhere. There are doubtlessly a lot more Shield agents close, just waiting to move in at the smallest sign of me turning hostile. I keep my gaze trained on the floor and wait. My fate will be decided within the next few minutes and I pray they'll quickly kill me. A clean, swift execution would be the best way out of this. I'm rather dead than face eternal torment again.

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