Wakanda, August 6, 2016

Beep... Beep... Beep...

Always the same tone. Insufferably annoying. What was it? Where the heck was it coming from? Bucky tried to open his eyes, but he just felt so tired. It was like the sandman emptied an entire desert on him.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

What was that damn noise? A machine? A monitor, maybe? Bucky became aware of his body. He was lying down. He was warm and kind of comfortable. But there were things attached to him. Tubes?

Oh God, no... No, no, no! I can't be back there! I can't be... How did they find me?

Bucky peeled his eyes open to a sliver but had to shut them right away again. Why was the light so bright? Had HYDRA run out of dingy rooms to torture him in? Where the hell had they brought him to?

I have to get out of here. I can't let them... Not again.

He forced his body to move, willing his legs and arms to work. But it was like he was a puppet whose strings were cut. All he could do was lie there, helplessly waiting for the master puppeteer to appear and pick him up.

"Barnes, you awake?"

That voice... He knew that voice.

"You've had enough beauty sleep, Barnes; the sun rose an hour ago. You're not gonna get any prettier. Well, maybe if you cut your hair a bit."

Blinking against the light, Bucky perceived a woman's face. A woman with blond hair. Evelyn? No... Her hair wasn't that short. Nor that light.
Bucky's head spun, and he tried to focus and make sense of his surroundings. It got better when the woman slapped him across his face with a cracking, "Barnes, snap out of it!"

"Ah, son of a — Romanoff?"

"There he is." Black Widow smirked at him. "Up you get, come on."

Natasha Romanoff was surprisingly strong for someone her size. She propped him up against some pillows and patted his cheek again.

"Hey, focus, soldier."

Bucky tried to raise his hand, meaning to slap hers away, but he couldn't. When he looked down at his arm, he grunted again. 

Other arm, Barnes.

It wasn't the first time he forgot about his left arm, largely because of the prosthetic he had worn before. Since it had replaced what he had lost, he had found it easier to accept he was minus one limb. But since Iron Man had destroyed that arm in Siberia a couple of weeks ago, he was brutally reminded of the fact that he wasn't whole. Shuri was working on a new arm, but Bucky found he needed to be free of it for just a little while longer. It may not be HYDRA's handiwork this time, but it would still be something that wasn't his. He needed to rediscover and hold on to the real him. God knows that person had practically become a stranger to him.

"What happened?" Bucky asked.

"You tell me," answered Natasha. "You were screaming bloody murder one minute, and the next, you were knocked out cold. You remember anything?"

"No. Just... pain. A lot of it. It felt like someone cracked open my skull to pound onto my brain."

"Hm... What were you doing just before you felt this pain?"

"I was reading Evelyn's journal. I noticed Steve was gone, so I decided to look for him. But then I... I heard Evelyn's voice in my head. She was... singing, I think?"

"Singing?"

"Yes. But I... I don't know wh—ah!"

Bucky shut his eyes and sank back into the pillows. Pins and needles jabbed inside his head. What the hell was up with this migraine?

"Interesting."

He peered at Natasha through squinted eyes. She had her head tilted at him, her expression pensive and yet grasping at the same time.

"Wh-What is?"

"These headaches," she pulled a chair close to his bedside to sit down, "you always get them when you think about Evelyn?" 

"Not all the time," said Bucky. "Only when I really try to remember her. When I focus. Why do you ask?"

"Because it sounds an awful lot like HYDRA's own perverse spin on aversion therapy."

"Aversion therapy? Ain't that what shrinks used to kick people off their addictions by linking it to something they don't like?"

"Yes, that's it. Think about it, Barnes. We know you and Evelyn met after the war while you were with HYDRA. Steve told us she went undercover to save you. Obviously, she failed to get you out, but she still posed a danger to HYDRA. A threat, even. What do you think they would do to make sure you remain loyal to them and only them? How could they keep her and any hopes of escape out of your mind?"

Bucky gasped as he came to the same daunting realization. HYDRA's reprogramming of the Winter Soldier hadn't just made him forget about Evelyn like they had with everything else. They ensured that whenever he tried to think of her, he would be overcome by such horrible pain he wouldn't even want to remember. Goddamn bastards!

"Do you know if... if there's anything I can do?" he asked.

"Depends how deeply they messed you up," answered Natasha. "Sorry, but I can't sugarcoat this. HYDRA will have programmed you in such a way that the memory of Evelyn will keep bringing you pain until you want to forget about her, 'cause that's the only thing that'll make it go away. If Evelyn ever meant more to you, you need to go past the point of no return and just face it head on. Luckily for you, she left you something to help you with that."

She nodded her head toward the side table. Bucky looked over and saw Evelyn's journal. He reached for it. The tip of his fingers stroked the cover. It felt so rough at his touch. A hard exterior, hiding a plethora of secrets within... just like Evelyn.
Deep inside, Bucky knew the answer to everything was in that book. His heart pushed him to read on. Yet his mind cautioned him against it. What if the mere thought of Evelyn wasn't the only thing that would bring him pain? What if something had happened between them? Something that should never be brought out?

Bucky glanced around the room, looking for the one person who would advise and convince him this really was the only way forward. But there was no one else in the room except for the blonde Black Widow.

"Where's Steve?" he wondered aloud.

"Following a lead on Nemesis with Sam," said Natasha. "I'm babysitting, so be a good boy and behave yourself. Start by picking up that journal and continue reading. I'll keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get another seizure."

With a heavy heart, Bucky did as he was told. He put the journal in his lap and turned to the last page he had been reading. As he took a deep breath, he did something he hadn't done in since that fateful day he and Steve were about to enter a riding train above a high ravine — he prayed. But this time, it wasn't to God. God had forsaken him a long time ago. 

Evelyn... please help me.

***

HYDRA base - Siberia, October 20, 1945

Evelyn sat on a surprisingly comfortable examination table. She watched Nikolai pace in front of her, his hands clasped to his mouth. He looked like one of those wind-up toys Steve used to have as a toddler, only less comical. 

"You're crazy," he muttered for the fifth time.

"Maybe." Evelyn shrugged. "But I see the potential of this trial, and if executed properly —"

"That's just the problem, Eva!" Nik exclaimed. "You didn't see what happened before, so you can't possibly grasp the gravity of what you're saying. Zola and the others already tried to impregnate several women for this ridiculous experiment, and they all died. They had complications, or they became the complication. And with every loss, the lead scientist and physician on the team working directly under Zola went on a 'leave of absence.' HYDRA does not care about the how, only about the results. Failure is not permitted. Ever."

"Work with me for a little while longer, and you'll learn that's something HYDRA and I have in common."

Nikolai stopped pacing. He gave her an intent look, almost pleading. "Не делай этого, Ева. пожалуйста... нет." 
(Don't do this, Eva. Please... don't.)

Bless his heart; he was actually worried. If they had met in another place, in another time, Evelyn might have even been bold enough to pursue something more with Nikolai. He was kind, caring, and smart. He was passionate about his work and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Not to mention he was a swell piece of eye candy. Damn it, how did someone like him ever wind up with these scumbags, anyway?

"I appreciate your concern, Nikolai," Evelyn said, promptly shaking the sentiment off. "But we have both received a task and must see it to completion if possible. I'll take the responsibility, don't worry."

"It's not about that, Eva."

"And it mustn't be about anything else, either."

Evelyn knew his expression well. She'd seen it often enough back home. Best to nip it in the bud right now before anything happened. Having Nikolai as a friend amidst her enemies had to be enough.
She reached out, and Nikolai stepped up to her, taking her hand in his. That simple touch made Evelyn think of something that had happened years ago. Instead of the examination room at an underground HYDRA base somewhere in Siberia, she saw the Atalanta Club. Instead of an empty room, she saw people dancing, laughing, and drinking around her. Instead of Nikolai, she saw James.
Her lips tingled when she recalled how she'd kissed him. Her heart stilled when she remembered how he had kissed her. Butterflies fluttered in her belly at the thought of his body so close to hers. It was then she had known for certain. She had tried to tell him for months after that, but he was just so infuriating sometimes.

Bucky...

Now that she remembered who she was here for, Evelyn hardened herself again. She gave Nikolai's hand a small squeeze and let go. "Come now," she said. "No silliness. Let's get this first part over with. Just start with the procedure as usual and perform the same examination the other women were subjected to. Afterward, we'll see what needs to be improved."

Nikolai accepted defeat with a sigh and nodded. He picked up the clipboard next to Evelyn. His pen made that distinct click-click sound before he put the tip to the paper.

"I apologize in advance for the nature of the questions. They can be... personal."

"I understand."

Evelyn didn't have to lie about much. She stuck to the story she'd rehearsed with Peggy, in case Zola checked the sheets himself, and could easily spin the rest to kind of fit the truth. Personal details like her age, where she had lived, her travels, etc., were easy.
When Nikolai asked if she had siblings, Evelyn said her brother died of scarlet fever when he was six. That was only a little white lie. Steve did contract the disease, but thanks to their mother noticing it early, he pulled through, albeit in a closed ward at the hospital. Evelyn hadn't been allowed to see him for nearly 3 weeks then. It had been such agony for the both of them.

"Any diseases you contracted yourself?" asked Nikolai.

"Apart from a common cold once or twice a year and a bad case of the flu when I was twelve, none," answered Evelyn.

"Any accidents?"

"If you call getting my knuckles bruised 'cause a guy couldn't keep his hands to himself an accident, then plenty."

Nikolai snickered at that. "Remind me not to get on your bad side. Okay, so... have you ever been married?"

"No." Evelyn then noticed his reluctance to ask the next question. She urged, "Go on, Nik."

He groaned underneath his breath. "I'm so sorry for this. Have you... ever had sexual intercourse?"

Even though Evelyn had expected the question to come up, it still took her unawares. She wanted to say no more than anything. She hated him so much for what had happened that night. Hated him with a fiery passion. But... he was the one she had wanted her first time to be with since kissing him at the Atalanta. So, to deny it now... no.

"Yes," admitted Evelyn.

"More than once?" 

"No."

Nikolai raised his eyes, his pen hovering over the paper. "So... you did not have a relationship then?"

Evelyn tried to read his expression, expecting to see the same as what she saw back home when an unmarried girl back home was revealed to no longer be a virgin. That scandalous outrage, the utter shock. But Nikolai's gaze was more curious than condemning. 

"No, it was just that one time," she answered.

"Who was he?" 

"A... A friend."

Nikolai lowered the clipboard. "What happened?"

"I doubt HYDRA wants to know that particular detail, Nik."

"Off the record."

Evelyn pressed her lips together. She'd sworn to herself she would never speak about that night to anyone else. Lucas was the only one who knew, and he would take it to the grave just like she would. That night had been her undoing. Fool that she'd been...

"He went missing during the war." Evelyn met Nikolai's questioning gaze through her eyelashes. "Simple as that."

"I'm sorry."

"Keep your sympathy, Nik. I don't want nor need it."

He frowned at Evelyn's insensitive remark but didn't insist any further, for which she was very grateful. Instead, he changed the subject to the matter at hand.

"The rest of the form is statistics for your blood and urine and such. We can do that later." Nikolai put the clipboard on a nearby desk. "I need to examine you now, so if you could undress? There's... ahem, there's a gown over there to cover up for the most part, but I will need to check... um..."

"Yes, I know."

Nikolai turned around to give her some privacy, which Evelyn found adorable and just plain stupid at the same time, considering what he had to examine. But the show of respect convinced her once more that Nikolai was far too good to be with scum like HYDRA. One of these days, she would ask about his story.
After taking her uniform and underwear off and putting the gown on, Evelyn sat back on the examination table. She called Nikolai over. If she didn't know any better, she would've diagnosed him with scarlet fever — his cheeks were flushed pink.

"Do you always blush when examining a female patient?" she teased.

"You're not just a patient; you're my colleague, too," said Nikolai. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm taking advantage of the situation."

"I'm not." She threw him a kind smile. 

The tension in Nikolai's body visibly faded as his shoulders relaxed. His cheeks returned to their normal color after he took a deep breath. He put on a pair of gloves and then stepped right up to Evelyn. "Breasts first, please." 

Evelyn reached back to loosen her gown and let it drop around her waist. Nikolai's blue eyes wandered down... and widened in shock. "Wh-What is... My God, Eva, what happened to you?"

For a brief second, Evelyn wondered about Nikolai's horrified expression. She couldn't understand what had him so spooked. But then she remembered. She groaned silently, wanting to smack herself on the head. Of course... How could she have been so stupid?
In her excitement about Zola's mad project and about having found a way to get close enough to James, she'd completely forgotten about her scars. An intricate web of white marks, sprouting like tree roots, going down from underneath her right breast, across her belly, to her left hip.
When Evelyn thought of how she got those scars, she could still feel the pain. She could still feel her life leaving her as her blood spilled all over the dirt. She should have died. It was a little short of a miracle that she hadn't, the surgeon had said. She had just claimed that she'd been too stubborn to die. And true in part. Evelyn had refused to die. Because if she died, it would mean she would never see her brother again. Nor...

"Eva, answer me! What happened?"

Evelyn was pulled out of her memory by Nikolai's panicked voice. "I... I was wounded during the war. I'm sorry, I... I don't always remember the scars are there."

"How bad was the injury? Eva, this is important. If you can get out of the trail before we put you through all of it because your body can't handle a pregnancy —"

"It can. I can. I only had injuries to my liver and stomach." But Evelyn could tell by Nikolai's skeptical face that he didn't believe her. "Nik, the reproductive organs only suffered a jolt because of the impact on my body. They weren't damaged. I asked several physicians about it, and they all told me the same thing."

This seemed to appease her colleague somewhat. Nikolai excused himself while reaching for the clipboard again to make a note. When his back was turned to her, Evelyn dared to touch her belly with the tip of her fingers. She shivered and shut her eyes at her own folly.
She had just spoken the biggest lie since her interview with Arnim Zola in Novosibirsk. And if Nikolai, or anyone else, found out, it would be all over. Because the hard and sad truth of it was that Evelyn had been more severely wounded than she made Nikolai believe. 
Forty-three stitches had been required to close the gaping wound she got on that bloody day at the French front. Forty-three stitches to close her skin, stomach, liver... and uterus.

The prognosis was unanimous — Evelyn Rogers could never have children.