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*triggering themes

The sun was beginning to rise on the New York skyline when Bruce reached up and removed his mask from his face, slipping it into a special waste compartment for toxic substances. The goggles went after them... they were usually cleaned in a special holding compartment, but this time he wasn't taking any risks. He stripped off the plastic jumper protecting his clothes, which had been frantically changed from the ones he'd worn on the plane, and shoved it after them, finally following with his gloves and crossing the room to have his hands cleaned. Tony, who had been giving him whatever assistance he could, took the same steps, activating the sterilization program he'd designed for the room and the tools as he did.

"So..." The billionaire finally broke the silence. "He's gonna be okay?"

Tony was tense, and he'd been getting progressively more so the longer they worked without a breakthrough. Even when they'd finally gotten on top of the threat, the progress of the tension had slowed but not stopped.

Bruce was nodding in answer to his question. "We found the weak point in the infection, and now his body will be working overtime to remove it. Hopefully he'll stay out for another day or two and miss the majority of the pain that'll come with that."

Tony made a noise that acknowledged the statement as the two exited the operation room, closing the door behind them. They'd wheeled Steve's bed into the next room several minutes before, and now they looked down at him, their faces serious. There was long silence, both men thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours.

"Do you think he'll remember any of it?" Tony asked at last, finally addressing the elephant in the room that was the captain's earlier hallucinations.

"I doubt it," his friend sighed. "but I feel like we should ask him anyway."

"He's not gonna wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, but maybe he should."

"Maybe he should have a long time ago," Tony replied, exhaling slowly.

"Yeah," Bruce acknowledged, "but maybe we should have been paying more attention."

The billionaire admitted the statement with a slight nod of his head, his face still tight. "You should get some rest," he stated after a long pause.

"We both should, Tony."

"Yeah, well, when has what I should do ever affected me? I'll have a couple shots and be up for the rest of the day."

"No, you'll skip the alcohol and go bed. Your body needs the rest so it can fight back any germs that slipped past all our sanitation and protection."

Tony sighed heavily. "There you go sciencing me again."

"Literally my job," his friend told him easily as he turned towards the door out. "Now go to bed."

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Steve woke to a dull beeping that seemed to throb inside his very skull. The room was too bright, intensifying the headache that was already thumping at the back of his head, and he still felt a little warmer than usual. But it was a million times better than when he'd woken up in the HYDRA base... how long ago had that been? He vaguely remembered getting out thanks to his friends, but everything went black after he'd stumbled aboard the jet. Had he really been out that long.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he turned his head to see Natasha in a chair next to his bed, her eyes scanning the pages of a book. His movement caught her gaze, though, and she looked up sharply.

"Steve?"

He tried to smile for her sake. "Hey."

She snapped the book shut and set it aside, her eyes fixed on him. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged slightly. "Not like normal, but a lot better than the last time I woke up."

A weird look entered the woman's eyes. "On the plane?"

"No... in the base," he told her uncertainly, his eyes searching her face. "I didn't wake up on the plane. Did I?"

She didn't answer, biting her lip and looked at the wall beside him.

He let the silence hang for a moment before asking, "How long have I been out?"

"Two days since they got you stabilized."

He exhaled slowly. "Wow. Did I miss anything?"

She shook her head. "Just all of us worrying a whole bunch."

"Sorry."

"Just glad you're alright."

There was another short silence. Steve couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had entered his stomach when he'd asked her if he'd woken up. It was a feeling like he couldn't remember something very important, and it was terrifying. It made him feel helpless in a strange way. What if he did something? What if he hurt someone?

"Is everyone okay?" he asked urgently. "I didn't wake up and punch someone, did I?"

Natasha managed a tense smile at that. "No, Steve. It's not that. Just... don't worry about it, alright?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by the sound of the door opening to reveal Bruce on the other side. Surprised relief washed over his face when his eyes found the newly conscious super-solider.

"Steve! You're awake."

"I have to thank you, Bruce," the younger man told him. "I know you're the only one who could've gotten on top of that."

"I'm just glad it worked, Steve," the doctor sighed. "I wasn't sure I could do it for a while there."

Bruce's eyes darted to Natasha with a similar look as hers had possessed just a few minutes earlier.

That feeling of panic was growing stronger inside Steve's chest.

There was something that they weren't telling him... that much was clear. But what was it? What had he done?

The internal question dragged his unwilling mind back to an unpleasant memory, of waking up in a hospital, asking the same question.

"Wha... what'd I do?"

"You know what you did, Mr. Rogers. I was hoping you'd explain what you were thinking when you did it to us."

He could remember the desperate confusion and panic like it was yesterday... maybe because he was feeling the exact same emotions right now.

"I don... I don' remember... oh, God. Did it again, didn' I?"

"Yes, you did. I thought I made it clear I wasn't to se you in here again."

"**** it, 'm such a scutch!"

There hadn't been a response to that, and the silence had been as good as a signed agreement to the statement. Stupid. Crazy. Unfit for society. The doctor's next words had confirmed the fact.

"I let you off with a warning the first time, Mr. Rogers. But I think you've proved that I was foolish to do so."

The panic that had gripped his chest in that moment was unreal.

"Look, it won' happen again, alright?"

"That's what you said last time as well."

"'ll do better, I swear!"

"Mr. Rogers, I'm afraid I can't let you go without a family member's intervention."

Not only was the news painful to think about, especially because the doctor had certainly known it would be, but it was something he'd been dreading. Not that he'd had much hope of keeping this from his friend anyway.

"My parents are dead, Skive."

"Watch how you address me, young man. I am aware of this, and it is one of the primary reasons why I don't think I can let you go."

"Jus' let me ring Bucky."

He'd hated the very thought but being locked up was the definition of his worst nightmare.

"Mr. Barnes does not qualify for the standards that I need met right now."

"Look, Dutch, Buck and I are goombare and ya got a lotta nerve if ya think ya gon' lock me up. My family's fins and he's the closest thing 've got."

"I may understand what you're saying, but I don't appreciate being spoken to like I'm part of a gang. Talk to me respectably, please, Mr. Rogers."

"Jus' let me call 'im."

The guy hadn't yielded for Steve's sake, but for his own. Mental cases meant a lot of paperwork and a lot of expenses, and Steve was broke. No institution was going to want to let him in with nothing to reimburse them, and the doctor had known that. It had been a small victory, however, in light of the phone call that Steve was left to make.

"Hello?"

"Bucky, 'm sorry. I didn' mean to. I... I jus..."

"Steve? What happened? What'd ya do?"

"I... God, 'm so sorry..."

"Don' apologize, jus tell me what's goin on!"

"Did it again, Buck."

"Madone, Steve, not..."

"I'm sorry, I jus..."

"Where are you?"

"Downtown. They won' let me go unless some skive signs me out."

"Alright. 'm on my way."

His friend had been crying as he'd said the words, and his face hadn't yet dried when he'd walked through the hospital doors. He'd never forget the overwhelming shame of walking out of the place, a few steps behind Bucky. Of having to look him in the eye after it was all over.

He couldn't forget it, and yet... something felt wrong. He hadn't forgotten anything, and yet the memory of fuzzy. Almost like a radio single that was being cut out.

"Steve, you didn't do anything."

"It's not the nineteen forties, you're not always sick anymore. Come back to us, Buddy."

"What did you take, Steve?"

"I don't know what memory you're reliving right now, but it sounds like it was hell. Come back. It's 2014, you're with the Avengers, you were experimented on by HYDRA."

"Hey, Steve. Buddy, are you alright?" Bruce's voice cut through the haze of memories he'd found himself in just as the horrible realization hit him.

"Oh God."

"What's wrong?" Nat asked urgently. "Are you in pain?"

"I did wake up on the plane."

The woman's expression softened. "Did it come back?"

The only thing he could choke out was a repetition of the first phrase. "Oh God." He took a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together. "Look, whatever I said... forget about it, alright?"

"Steve, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Bruce told him evenly. "More than anything, we owe you an apology. None of us had any idea how rough you've had it."

"That's because it doesn't matter," he tried desperately. "That was a long time ago, alright? It's over now."

Natasha sighed heavily. "Get the other three in here, will you?" she asked Bruce.

"Nat..."

"Just shut up for a second, alright?"

He obeyed. It was hard to speak through the panic in his mind anyway. He'd always been so careful... how could he have let that slip?

There was a tense silence in the room until Bruce returned several minutes later. Thor, Tony, and Clint were behind him, their faces serious. Steve could see the familiar expression of anxiety in Stark's eyes, but other than that he couldn't read his teammates' faces.

The young soldier took a deep, shaky breath. "Look, guys. I don't know exactly what I said back there, but seriously, forget about it. All of that's over now. It's in the past, it's gone."

"You know, it's a good thing that's a lie, or I'd be jealous." Tony's voice was low and steady as he made the statement.

"What do you mean?" Steve sighed.

"I mean if you could really just put something like that behind you, you'd have a power every single one of us would want," the billionaire told him. "Cuz we've all been there in some way, and we all know it's not that easy."

"Tony..." Steve started, but Bruce cut him off.

"It was after what happened, happened, and I couldn't see a way out. Nothing was working, I was a danger to society. Pulled the trigger and everything, the other guy spit the bullet out."

Before Steve could say anything, Natasha spoke up. "I was young. I lose track. You had to do things in the Red Room to graduate... I tried to fail, and when that didn't work, I tried to get out. Didn't work either."

"Wasn't the last time she thought about it," Clint cut in. "I may have never tried it, but I've sat next to this kid on the edge of a bridge and talked her out of it, and I will never forget how scared I was while I was doing that."

"Likewise," Thor put in, "When we were teenagers, I caught my brother about to fall on a sword due to our father's words and actions. Centuries later I watched him let go of me and choose death before facing Odin's disappointment and wrath. He survived, but he could have never known he would. I know Loki is at odds with Midgard, but I will never forget the brokenness in his eyes when he let go of that staff."

"And I was seventeen." Tony's eyes grabbed Steve's so he couldn't look away. "Nothing I did was ever enough, and I... but then I failed at that too, and... you should have seen the look on my dad's face. As if I wasn't already enough of a disappointment."

"Tony..."

"No, Steve, listen!" the older man cut him off. "You think you're broken? Guess what, we all are. I don't think I need to remind anyone that not very long ago I couldn't so much as close my eyes without fighting a demon, and I couldn't hear the words 'New York' without having a panic attack. There's a lot we don't know about each other... all of us. But you are the only one who has this Captain America complex like you think you've gotta be perfect, and you can never break."

"I don't have a complex, Tony," the soldier muttered.

"Then what would you call the way you act like you've got it all together and your life hasn't been absolute hell?"

Natasha laid a hand on his arm. "Steve, there's a lot we don't know about each other, but there's practically nothing we know about you. Not all of us have the advantage of growing up ninety years ago. All we're asking is that you stop pretending like you never took a breath as anyone but Captain America."

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but the sincerity in her eyes froze his tongue. His gaze wandered around the room, and he saw the same thing in all of his teammates. He let out the breath he'd taken to speak in one long sigh.

"I couldn't even breath right before I was Captain America," he murmured dully.

No one answered, waiting for him to go on.

"I was eighteen." When he finally spoke up again, his voice was barely audible. "Both times. After my mom died... I just felt like a burden, I guess. They woulda locked me up if it wasn't for Bucky."

And then his jaw was clenching against an unexpected rush of tears.

"And he's dead."

Nat leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, sliding them between him and the half-upright hospital bed. "But we aren't, Steve," she whispered. "You got that?"

Hesitantly, he returned the hug. "Yeah," he managed. "Got it."