"Dinner has arrived," Wilson announces in a cheeky tone.

He carries first one tray inside, and then another, which he places on the nightstand next to my bed. A quick look tells me it's meat, potatoes and carrots. It's rare for me to get real food. Missions seldom last long enough for me get physically hungry. Wilson settles down in his chair and starts eating, occasionally criticizing the taste or portion size for being too small. I ignore him and look at Steve instead. It frustrates me that I'm not allowed to sit with him.

"You need to eat too. It's not that good, I give you that, but it will keep your energy level up."

He inclines his head toward the food on the nightstand and gives me an admonishing look. I briefly consider objecting, since I'm not hungry, but I have no idea when – and if – they plan on feeding me again, so eating now makes sense. I manage to sit up, rest my back against the wall, and slide the tray onto my lap using my left arm. That damn cast is getting in the way and I'm limited to the use of my left arm. That cast goes the first chance I get to smash it. The sling also inconveniences me, but I have to play along for now. Chewing is something I need to get used to again and actually having food in my mouth is odd. The taste and smell of it is another novel experience. Was there a time in my life when it was normal for me to eat regularly?

"You look freaked out," Wilson states with a frown on his face. "Care to tell me why?"

It's not a direct order, more like a question, and I'll probably get away with not answering it, but I decide to humor him. I might need his help in the future.

"I'm seldom long enough out of cryo to enjoy food." That's as far as I'm willing to go.

His frown deepens. "You do realize you're no longer with Hydra, do you? Fury works for an organization called Shield and Steve here... He's pretty much his own man. Hydra no longer dictates your actions."

"For now," I finish. "Do you really think they'll let me get away that easily?" And once they capture me, the punishment will be horrible. I failed to find my way back to them. I hesitated on that river side. I rather took care of the enemy than find my handlers. Hydra will find out; they have their methods and it always involves pain.

"Let's talk about Hydra later. Finish your dinner first," Wilson says rather pensively. "No need to worry about Hydra just yet."

He's a fool if he really thinks that, but I don't tell him that. I finish the meal and place the empty plate back on the nightstand. I wish Steve would finally wake up. It frustrates me that I'm so far away. Maybe I should try swaying Wilson. I can try...

"Can I sit with him?" Wilson, who's putting the trays outside stays quiet for a moment. Watching him makes me realize that there is at least one armed guard in the corridor. I reckon there are several more, just hidden from view.

"You finished your meal, check. You rested, check. You're even behaving and not trying to kill me, check."

Oh, yes, I did try to kill him. I didn't want to, but Hydra's orders overrode my personality.

"I AM sorry about that. I didn't mean to hurt you." Apologizing is the least I can do, not that it will mean much to him, but at least I got it off my chest.

"How does it work?" Wilson sits down on the windowsill and looks me in the eye. "How does Hydra do it? How do they turn you into the Winter Soldier?"

Words can't describe my relief at realizing he knows the difference between me and Hydra's Winter Soldier. I never thought anyone would make the distinction. Being two people at once often drives me to despair.

"Hydra has their methods; one of them is conditioning, they wipe your mind and fuck up your brain. When you wake up, the 'you' is gone. It's just him and he does whatever Hydra tells him." I hope it makes sense to him. I don't know how to explain it. I don't want to think about it to begin with. Just remembering it brings back the pain. Some of that must be showing on my face, because Wilson's expression changes.

"Sure, you can sit with him. Let me help."

"I can walk on my own." The shoulder and arm hurt so I reckon the morphine finally left my system. I push back the blankets, get to my feet, and slowly make my way over to the chair while Wilson carefully watches me, hovering close in case I'm not steady on my feet. I sit down, pull the morning robe close so I'm covered up, and accept the blanket Wilson puts on my lap. I'm still cold so I pull the fabric tightly against me. I'm not sure if Wilson will allow me to touch Steve; there's only one way to find out, so I gently wrap my fingers around Steve's hand and rub his fingers. It's odd to see his vulnerable human fingers caught up in my metal ones. Is this okay? I give Wilson a quick look and find that he's smiling. He's letting me get away with it.

I wish Steve would wake up. I have a lot of questions and maybe he can answer some. I stare at his face, wishing I hadn't beaten him that badly. He didn't even defend himself towards the end. He dropped his shield and left himself wide open, trusting me not to finish him off. He was right about that, but I did so much damage beforehand!

"Hey, don't..."

Steve's voice takes me by surprise. I didn't notice him waking up!

"I'm sorry," I confess at once. It needs out; it's killing me on the inside. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't want that. If it had been ME in control I wouldn't have hurt you. I'm so sorry, so sorry!" Tears slide down my face, but I hardly notice them as I'm completely focused on the injured man in the bed.

"I know that." Steve turns his head toward me.

"Don't... Don't move, you should rest. Keep still!" I know from personal experience that the first twenty-four hours are the worst. After that, the body starts to heal. He wiggles his fingers and I let go, thinking he doesn't want me to touch him after everything I did to him.

"No, don't," he objects at once and reaches for my hand instead. "Stay."

It appears I was wrong about him not wanting me to touch him and I carefully rewrap my fingers around his hand. I need a moment to reestablish eye contact.

"I know you," I tell him, uncertain I should bother him with this while he's still recovering. "I know you. I didn't know your name until you told me, but I know you – in here." Ignoring the cast, I move my right arm and rest it close to my heart. "Your face... Your voice, even the way you smell, I know you." I find it hard to express myself as the words refuse to come, but I hope he understands what I'm trying to tell him. "I don't expect any answers, not right now with you being barely conscious, but maybe we can talk? Later?"

"We WILL talk, you can count on that."

Steve is getting tired again and it won't be long before he goes back to sleep and I'm fine with that. I want him to rest.

"Promise me you'll stay."

I smile at him. "I'll stay. I can't leave anyway. There are guards everywhere."

"They won't hurt you." Steve nods slightly and smiles at seeing the cast and sling. "They fixed you up, that's good."

"Yeah, they didn't have to do that though. It'll heal by itself."

"Just take care of yourself..." Exhaustion takes over and Steve goes back to sleep.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes momentarily. He's going to be fine. I keep repeating that in my mind, because I need to know the damage I did is reversible. I would never forgive myself if I had permanently damaged him.

"Steve is going to be fine. He's asleep and resting. Maybe you should do the same?"

Suddenly Sam is awfully close and looking at me. "I can rest sitting here." I'm NOT moving back to the bed.

"For now," Wilson says, giving in. "But when night comes, I want you back in your bed."

When night comes, we will see about that.

******************

A few hours later, the door unexpectedly opens and one of the agents who was present when we arrived moves inside. My heart misses a beat seeing he carries Steve's shield. Steve dropped it, refusing to fight me and it disappeared in the water. I forgot all about it.

"Phil," Wilson says and smiles at the Shield agent. "You managed to retrieve it. He'll be pleased about that."

Phil approaches the bed, gives Steve a pondering look, and places the shield close to Steve's bed. The expression in his eyes takes me aback; he looks at Steve with adoration. I wonder how he will look at me... with disgust perhaps? After all, I'm responsible for Steve's current state.

"Sergeant Barnes," Phil says and inclines his head toward me.

I need a moment to understand that he's actually addressing me. I only realize that because I recognize the name – Barnes. I have no idea why he's calling me sergeant. As far as I know I never served in the military.

"I'm Coulson, but you may call me Phil. When Captain Rogers wakes up, can you inform him that we managed to retrieve his shield and that it's waiting for him?"

"Sure," I whisper, uncertain why he's telling me that. It makes more sense for him to address Wilson with that request.

"It's good to know you survived," Coulson says and I wonder about the expression in his eyes. I fail to label it. "Welcome back, sergeant."

He then turns around and marches out of the door. That was distinctly odd.

"He's a fan," Wilson says. "When he found out that Steve Rogers survived the plane crash he turned into a groupie."

I don't know what to make of that. What plane crash is he talking about and what's a groupie? My gaze shifts toward the shield and my hands itch, eager to take hold of it, but am I even allowed to touch it? It's a weapon, one I can use to kill and maim.

"Go ahead. I can tell you want to check it out."

Wilson is insane, making things that easy for me. My vibranium arm makes me dangerous as it is. Doesn't he think about the damage I can do wielding that shield? Apparently he doesn't. I reach for the shield and reverently pick it up. I place it across my lap and look at it.

"Its shape is all wrong." I frown, a memory is trying to rise to the surface, but it fades away. Just when I despair, it returns, stronger this time. "It used to look like this." I draw the outline on the shield using my left arm. "And the material... Is this vibranium? It wasn't vibranium back then."

"Back when..?"

Wilson gets to his feet and walks up to the other side of Steve's bed. As he previously blocked the view, I look out of the window and realize it's night already. I lost all track of time.

"Why is the shape wrong?"

Wilson's question makes me focus again and I stare at the shield. "It wasn't round back then. More rectangular."

"Are you remembering something?"

Why does he sound hopeful? "Maybe, I don't know. What I DO know is that I held this shield in my hands before. I picked it up because Steve was down. Someone took a shot at him." In my mind, I'm riding a train and we're being shot at. Steve goes down, I pick up the shield and try to take out our assailant. Suddenly the enemy fires, hits the shield, and the blow catapults me out off the train. The impact also pulls my mind back into the present and I shake my head, trying to free myself of these unsettling thoughts.

"What did you remember?"

Wilson sounds excited and gives me an expectant look.

"I don't know. I was on some train and..." Trying to gather my thoughts I look out of the window again and at the night's sky. The moon appears from behind large and dark clouds and I absentmindedly register that it's a full moon tonight. It's lucid and brilliant. Something blinks in the moonlight and my mind clicks into survival mode.

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