Chapter Text
It was expected that the Winter Soldier would sustain injury on the tactful missions Hydra had commanded him to carry out. Due to the super soldier serum he was able to always make a full recovery in naturally inhuman time. Rarely was the soldier ever truly tended to in the common occurrence of him sustaining physical damage because both hydra scientists and doctors knew whether they patched him up or simply let him bleed out as he may, he would recover faster than if they did anything to aid him at all. If anything, Hydra was always far more concerned with the circumstance of his, no, their cybernetic arm. He had hazy memories that would come and go of a scientist cursing under their breath as they repair the damage Hydra’s property had sustained on whatever mission in whatever foreign country they had him embark on.
However, his current mission, or rather the latest as he had just completed it, was not so forgiving. The operative team he had been tasked alongside with had been completely wiped out with him being the exception. It was not unusual to lose a few men, or even half of a squad, but to have an entire team assassinated wasn't exactly commonplace. The Winter Soldier didn’t have an opinion on the way Hydra ran their operations, nor would he ever be allowed to express it aloud, but if a thought had ever crossed his mind on the subject before disappearing into the perpetual haze, he would consider it to be poor planning and lazy training. While he was the lone survivor he was not without injury. This particular mission was within his control, and he completed it successfully in the end, but he could not recall the last time he had been inconvenienced by a flesh wound. In the back of his mind he had also thought he couldn’t recall the last time a mission went sideways. He killed on command, he returned to Hydra, had repairs if necessary, and then his memory was wiped. Or at the very least, it made the grand scheme of what he had done a blur.
Despite Hydra’s best efforts to keep him a clean slate, the electroshock was simply not enough for decades of wrongdoings. He would be cleaning a rifle or sitting in an extraction helicopter when a sudden, hyper specific detail of what he had done would flash in his mind unprompted. It was never long or drawn out but enough to make him completely stop in his tracks as if witnessing an accident he had no part in. One time he had remembered there was a woman begging for mercy. Her clothes were drenched in blood from a fatal abdominal injury but it did not stop her from shielding a child, presumably hers, with her body. Another time he had sniped a man from half a mile away. He had waited for the man to leave the building to get a clear shot but through the scope he remembered watching his target through a window. The man and a woman engage in what looked like light hearted conversation with laughter before the two shared a deep kiss. The shot was effortless and the target's body fell to the ground before he even had the chance to close the front door as he was leaving. Truthfully, he didn’t want to remember what he had done but it also felt as though the pit that would form in his stomach when he did was the only thing keeping him human and not completely a machine on command ready to be of use at every beck and call.
The Winter Soldier sucked air through his teeth followed by a grunt as he trudged through knee deep snow. His mission had been to assassinate the entire family of a politician that Hydra deemed a threat. The family must have been expecting the altercation because they were prepared enough to take out a ten man team aside from himself. As long as the mission was completed, the lost lives of his comrades were of no concern to him. What had made things truly difficult was whatever protection the family had on their payroll, they were committed, he would give them that. Even after the complete annihilation of the six person family the men continued to assault him and even called for more reinforcements to ensure he would not get away. Except he always did, even with no plan.
With communications with Hydra lost and their original extraction point compromised he had no choice but to abscond on foot. The sun was soon to set but because he was headed up the mountain side and away from the valley he already had minimal light exposure. His plan was to get to the best vantage point of high ground and wait for Hydra to come looking for him as they did when things didn’t go according to the plan. He halted briefly when he saw what looked like the silhouette of a cabin in the distance. The Winter Soldier looked back at the deep tracks through the snow he spent hours making. If the family’s reinforcements or Hydra were tracking him there was no doubt they were going to find him by sunrise. He looked back over at the silhouette with squinted eyes to confirm that truly was what he was seeing. He hadn’t seen any properties in what he could only assume were miles and thought taking shelter from the brutal cold was not the worst idea. Whoever would come for him, he would be ready.
The man stood in front of the humble cabin. It had a rock foundation and the rest was built with dark wood. His eyes scanned the surroundings for any sign of life or proof thereof. Despite being in a clearing from the woods there were several large trees adjacent to the property as if intentionally planted decades ago. He circled the property several times, inspecting every minute detail. Of course, the thick snow blanketing everything didn’t aid him in any way but what he could gather was simple. There were several rows of precut wood stacked and covered with a tarp on the side of the cabin alongside an old, dull looking axe. Scanning his eyes across the yard he saw several metal wires strung in rows to thin poles. He concluded it was a laundry line for the warmer months. The window´s wooden shutters had been tightly sealed for the winter so he was unable to gauge if any lights were on inside the cabin or if the home even had electricity. It was clear that someone lived here. The question was, were they here now or was this a seasonal retreat in the mountains reserved for those with money and time to spare? Regardless of the answer he intended to stay the night.
The Winter Soldier stood in front of the large wooden door for a moment before gazing down at his blood soaked tactical vest. His brows furrowed and brought his metal arm to touch his chest. It was tender and burned to the touch as if on fire. He stared momentarily at the crimson stain on his metallic fingers before flicking them as if annoyed with a pestering insect. With a strong effortless kick to the locked front door, he let himself in. Despite the lock now being broken the door was heavy enough that it sealed back shut.
Inside the cabin was completely pitch black but he was trained to make out even the vaguest of silhouettes in even darker conditions. He surveillanced the room momentarily before catching the glimpse of a low, red glow near the floor. It was a fireplace with coals that were just at the end of their lifespan. Approaching the fireplace he was able to make out a basket that had varying sizes of wood, from kindling to large logs, stacked neatly. With a deep sigh he knelt down and threw a couple small pieces of wood onto the dying embers. They quickly caught fire and started to come alive yet again. After a few moments he threw on two larger logs and blew on the embers to encourage their growth. Still kneeling, he glanced the room over once more now that he had somewhat of a better light source. Behind him was a couch with an old worn out, perhaps even handmade, blanket draped over it. It fit maybe two or three people at most. In front of the couch was a low to the ground wooden coffee table. Next to the coffee table was a small basket full of balls of yarn of varying colors and sizes. The rest of the room remained dimly lit with the orange glow from the fire flickering as it came back to life.
The Winter Soldier stood up slowly with grunt, bringing a hand to his chest once more. Despite bleeding for hours he was still able to get up and move around but trudging up a mountainside with the resistance of snow wasn’t exactly ideal for quick regeneration. He stared at the couch and then back at the heavy door he had busted down just minutes prior before his eyes fell back to the couch. He pursed his lips tightly as he sat down, wincing only so slightly from the discomfort of his wound.
As he sat, he had only his deep, rhythmic inhales and exhales to listen to outside of the strong gust of wind picking up from outside every now and again, something akin to a whistle before silence fell again. He swallowed hard, all moisture from his throat gone but he ignored this discomfort as he ignored his flesh wound. His eyes flickered over the fire that had come completely to life and began warming the room. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a few seconds, breathing in deeply as he took momentary comfort in the rest he was never granted. Slowly opening his eyes again he turned his attention to a wall on the opposite side of the fireplace. The wall was decorated with plenty of picture frames, dried flowers and other unidentifiable dried plants; herbs maybe. What caught his attention was a small but dedicated section for what appeared to be medals or awards of some kind alongside several newspaper clippings. Above the row of medals was a photo he couldn’t quite make out due to the poor lighting but what he could see was the globally recognized Red Cross. Whoever lived here was perhaps someone of some medical importance, or at the very least was at some point in their life. Turning his attention back to the fireplace, the Winter Soldier found a rarely experienced peace in the loud crackling of wood being burnt. It reminded him of something familiar yet still felt so far removed from him. He leaned over the armrest of the couch, sucking in air through his teeth sharply as the movement put stress on his wound but he ignored it. He grabbed another log from the basket and threw it ungracefully into the fireplace. The man found himself sinking further into the couch with heavy lids, his hand firmly gripping the sheathed knife attached to his tactical belt. He glanced once more at the door before closing his eyes, allowing them to simply rest as he waited for whomever would come for him first.
***
You let out a deep sigh as you approached your old cabin. You’d been gone all afternoon and evening to restock your medical supplies and a couple groceries. You had hoped to be home before the sun had set but you knew that was unlikely considering how the thick snow always slowed you down. Luckily you were always prepared and naturally brought a flashlight. Due to the remoteness of your residence it was always a trek regardless of the season or weather. The brutal cold and several feet of snow certainly wasn’t making things any easier for you but it was never anything you hadn’t overcome before. You set your full basket down and rummaged through your coat pocket for your keys. You halted momentarily in your actions when out of the corner of your eye you noticed a trail through the snow coming from the opposite direction. Your brows furrowed in confusion and you flashed the light in the direction to get a better look. Had a large animal been on your property recently? The tracks were certainly not there when you disembarked earlier that day. You concluded they also resembled something bipedal rather than an unknown four legged creature.
You thought that was odd but turned your attention back to your front door. Inserting your keys into the door you found no resistance or click from the lock. That was also odd. You know for a fact you were well in the habit of always locking the door when you were away. You slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside before closing it behind you. Setting your basket and flashlight next to the coat rack by the door, you begin to shimmey off your thick layers. A heavy second hand coat, earmuffs in your favorite color, and a scarf you knitted yourself years ago. As you unraveled the scarf from your neck you stopped in your motions as you caught a glimpse of what looked like blood droplets just in front of your door. You squint your eyes and knelt down to try and make out if it was truly fresh blood that you were seeing and not perhaps coffee stains from earlier that morning but the dimly lit room made it hard to decipher.
You stood back up and reached out to the wall to turn on the lights when a low, hoarse voice spoke, “Don’t.”
Upon realizing you were not alone, you let out a choked gasp and reflexively grasped at your chest as if to prevent your heart from leaping out of your ribcage. You spun on your heel to face the intruder. You could only make out the silhouette of someone, a man judging by the low voice, sitting on the couch. Your eyes quickly flickered over to the low burning fire and back to his silhouette. How long had he been here? Your mind was a frazzled mess racing with many thoughts and questions. There was a heavy silence in the dark between you two. You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to speak but no words were able to fall out. The tracks through the snow, your front door unlocked, and the droplets of blood. The conclusion you had come to hit you like a train and somehow it all made sense.
Unbeknownst to the Winter Soldier, you were more or less the only person in a twenty mile radius with any degree of medical knowledge. While the remoteness of the thick wooded area was relaxing and peaceful, when accidents occurred the closest available hospital was in the valley. Most commonly, young children or the elderly got sick and needed herbal medicine you could make and provide from your garden. Usually they were able to make a recovery but in the rare instance their symptoms were only eased, your help and knowledge bought them time until a doctor was able to arrive with antibiotics or they were strong enough to make the journey to the valley for extended care. Over the years you'd also seen quite a few grizzly sights from hunting or farming accidents and, while rare, it was not all that unusual for people to arrive unannounced to your cabin in desperate need of emergency aid. This had to be just that.
“You’re hurt…” You say as a statement but the intonation of your voice makes it sound as though it's an uncertain question. The man says nothing and remains unmoving from his spot on the couch. You let out a shaky breath and take a single step forward. The sudden movement makes his head jerk in your direction and you stop in your tracks. The adrenaline of feeling previously threatened started weaning from your body and right now your only concern was tending to someone that needed your help, “How long have you been waiting here?”
The Winter Soldier says nothing, a finger tracing slow circles on the handle of the knife he now has semi-unsheathed. Yes he was hurt but he was always hurt and it never mattered to anyone including himself. The man stared hard at you, the flickering illumination from the fireplace giving him somewhat of an idea of what you looked like. The opposite could be said of him though as the light source was adjacent to him. It was better this way, if you knew what he looked like he’d have to kill you instantly since his mask and goggles had been long lost in the altercation earlier that day. Even if you didn’t know who he was, or what he was capable of, or even that he was currently armed, he still had the upper hand on you but either you didn’t think that he was a threat or simply couldn’t recognize he was. He couldn’t decide which was more foolish. He thought about your question again, how long had he’d been here? No more than a few hours, maybe.
You take another slow step forward, scanning his body in the dimly lit room for any sign of the injury that was so bad he had to break into your home in an attempt for aid. You let out a frustrated sigh, unable to gather any information in such a dark room and somewhat uncooperative patient. You plead softly to him, hoping he can sense your earnesty to help, “Please, I saw the blood in the snow and on the floorboards. I know you’re hurt. Why else would you have come here?”
He continues to say nothing but his eyes flick back to the opposite side of the wall of the room where had seen newspaper clippings and what he can now piece together as medical awards for your service. That’s why you were so unphased with the given strange circumstances. You take another step forward, “I just got new supplies from town I can-”
“Okay.” He cuts you off. He doesn’t know why he's agreeing but he decided it was either kill you this instant or go back and forth with you until he didn’t have the patience any longer and then kill you. His energy was spent and at this moment he didn’t consider you a threat. For whatever foolish reason you didn’t consider him one either.
“Okay?” You question, somewhat surprised he’s giving in but still perplexed why he wouldn’t have to begin with anyways. He came to you, why wouldn’t he give in immediately to aid? Then again you’d also seen young farmers who would come to you mortified to receive help because they knew better and you had to practically assure them as if you were their mother that it was okay and nothing to be embarrassed about. You shook your head free of the confused thought as there was a more important task at hand. You nodded in understanding as if to confirm with yourself as well, “Okay. Let me turn on the lights and then I can-”
“No,” He hisses, “No lights.”
You let out an exasperated scoff, completely at a loss. Even children with broken bones were far more cooperative than how this grown man was acting. You give in, throwing your arms in the air with frustration but still willingness, “Okay, no lights.”
A tense silence fell between the two once more. You clear your throat, growing even more frustrated but keeping your composure as you’ve done many times before, “I need to examine your wound so I know what tools I need to sterilize.”
“I was shot,” He replies flatly. Your shoulders drop as the wounded, bleeding man revealed his injury to you as if not even realizing the gravity of the situation he was putting the both of you in. Time was of the essence. The man senses your apprehension and speaks again, “Right side. Buckshot. One hundred and fifty yards distance.”
Despite his calm demeanor you knew you needed to act fast. Even if the shot was clearly not immediately lethal, nerve damage or infection could be setting in the longer you waited if it hadn’t already. His gruesome answer flipped a switch in you, your gears instantaneously shifted into nurse mode. It wasn’t your first time tending to a gunshot wound, a shotgun at that, and you doubted it would be your last.
The Winter Soldier´s eyes don’t leave you for even a moment as you go back and forth from the living room and what he assumed was a kitchen, somewhat flustered from the interaction but determined. You cursed under your breath as you kicked over something miscellaneous but otherwise paid it no mind. He watched you pick up your flashlight you had left by the door but before he can curse at you again you’re quick both to defend yourself and reassure him, “I just need this so I can gather my supplies and properly sterilize everything. It won't shine your way.”
The man’s jaw tightens, dissatisfied with the loophole you were creating, but he remains silent. Despite his dissatisfaction, you do keep true to your word as you throw metal instruments and a small metal pan into boiling hot water. You move so quick and with precision he could hardly recognize his first impression of the young woman he caught off guard. You mutter things under your breath as you pace all around the cabin, plucking things out of drawers and moving with such haste you didn’t even bother to close them. You ungracefully kicked everything that was sitting on your coffee table to the ground before throwing down a towel. The Winter Soldier furrowed his brows at this but remained unmoving. Moving with the same speed, you fished your sterilized tools and pan out of the boiling pot of water and set it down on the towel. You grab several other hand towels and a large clear bottle of what he could only assume was vodka.
Finally coming to a less rushed pace in your actions you sat down next to him. You eyed his tactical vest. The black leather had seen some action but due to the nature of the fit and color you were unable to gauge how badly he was bleeding. You reached a little too fast for a scalpel and before you even had the chance to cut his clothes he grabs your wrist with a bruising force that makes you hiss. While he could recognize, logically, that you wanted to help him, his mind would simply not allow it. His scrambled brain perceived your hasty movements with a sharp object as a threat and acted on his conditioning before he even had a moment to think about what you needed to do.
“I need to,” You seethe, your patience long past its limit, you jab a finger at his top, “Unless you can somehow take this off yourself.”
The Winter Soldier isn’t even facing you as he tries desperately to internally subdue his barbaric conditioning. His head twitches to the side as though a mosquito had just flown into his ear, irritating him. He inhales deeply before letting out a slow, shaky exhale. He drops his hold on your wrist and with his titanium arm he tears the leather tactical vest off and tosses it to the floor without care. Then he repeats the same ministrations to his black compression shirt, the fabric tearing loudly in the otherwise tense silence. He turns his attention to the fire that was soon to die out if he didn’t feed it once more. His metal arm reaches once again over the arm rest and throws several thick logs onto the hot red embers. He was always battling the cold.
You cringe at the sound of the wood hitting the old stone foundation of the chimney, hoping nothing chips or breaks. You’d reprimand him later, you thought. Somehow you found yourself somewhat grateful for the extra lighting but that was neither here nor there.
You take a deep breath and shift your attention to the man's bare chest. Sure enough the wound was just as he had said: a long distance gunshot wound to the right of his chest. You set the scalpel down for now, slowly this time, eyeing his reaction to your movements but he simply kept gazing into the fireplace and paying you no mind. You had thought perhaps he was just in shock about the hunting accident and that was why he was acting so brash. He was on edge of course, that was natural, adrenaline was certainly one hell of a drug. You picked up one of the towels you had prepared and hovered it over his chest before speaking, “I’m going to apply pressure now, this is going to hurt.”
You waited for his response but he said nothing. You shook your head, clearly at a loss, but shifted right back into nursing mode. With one hand on his bare shoulder and another on the towel you began to apply pressure. Your eyes kept flickering back and forth between the wound and his turned away face, trying to gauge his reaction or next possible movements. However long he had been waiting in your cabin you noted the bleeding had clotted and almost came to a complete stop. You picked up another fresh hand towel and poured a generous amount of vodka on it before warning, “I’m disinfecting the area now, this is going to hurt.”
You press the alcohol soaked cloth to the wounded area and again glanced over to him for his response. He said absolutely nothing, which bewildered you because on the rare occasions you tended to gunshot wounds even the proudest of hunters were screaming for their mothers. You studied the now cleaned area for a few moments. Luckily for the strange man he was at such a distance that first, the shotgun pellets hadn’t penetrated through him and that second, he was hit just barely missing his lungs. The pellets, while not deep, could still pose serious risk for infection though. Once again, your eyes shifted over to him. He remained unresponsive and unmoving but him grabbing you so suddenly earlier did…scare you. However you tried not to think too hard about it. Care first, and a mile long list of all the questions you had for later.
With slower movements than before, you reached out to the towel on the coffee table to pick up the scalpel again. He had no reaction this time but you weren’t convinced, “I’m going to make a small incision where each pellet is, pick them out, and stitch it back up. This…” Your voice trails off, wondering if he was even listening to you or if the adrenaline was finally wearing off. You swallow hard but continue, “This is going to hurt. I’ll try to be quick but if you need me to stop then say so.”
This time the Winter Soldier was able to give a curt nod to your words, silently acknowledging you. He was no stranger to pain and while he was perfectly capable of feeling it, it still meant nothing to him. It was of no concern to him, or Hydra, yet here you were. A total stranger who did not know better, completely absorbed in the task at hand because you were concerned for him. It stirred something heavy in his stomach but he elected to ignore it, as he did the pain, and continued to stare off into the blazing fire.
Over the course of the next hour you meticulously cut small, precise incisions just above the man's right pectoral and just below his clavicle. Once that was done you began pulling out metal pellets with tweezers one at a time, dropping each one into the metal pan that you had sitting in your lap. Every so often his shoulder would lightly jerk and you’d momentarily pull back but he never said a word. If he was in pain, which he certainly was, he was very good at keeping it concealed. As you focused on your work, your many questions about the man and how he came to be injured became too much for you to ignore. Perhaps you were a tad naive and too willing to help just about anyone, even a stranger on your doorstep, but you were by no means stupid. You’d thought at first this was a hunting accident as you had seen before but halfway through the procedure it dawned on you that hunting with firearms in the winter was not permitted in the area, only with traps. Not to mention the clothing he was wearing, while typical for some hunters, was not suitable for the brutal cold climate that the area would routinely see every winter. Whoever he was, he was not from the secluded area.
After the meticulous work of pulling out the pellets, again luckily for him all whole, you informed him you pulled out twenty and even offered the metal pan full of bloody metallic spheres to him to show proof of just how fortunate he was that you were available. He said nothing in response but at this point you weren’t expecting one. You thought he must be exhausted by now but commended his tolerance to pain. Normally you were reassuring even the proudest men as they tried to tap out from the pain but your line of work had to be seen through and there was no time or place to give up. You’d always have to give your patients a wooden spoon to bite on and perhaps several swigs of vodka to withstand even stitches but this man was certainly something…different.
Just as he had demanded, you never turned the lights on but that didn't stop you from still trying to make out his features. What you could gather was this: He had dark, medium length hair and even though he was sitting he seemed rather tall. At the very least, much taller than you. His left arm was cybernetic but the rest of his body appeared flesh but you couldn’t be certain. As you tended to his wound, you could see and feel just how muscular he was. Truthfully his muscular physique was likely the reason the pellets hadn’t shattered his ribs or pierced his lungs. Even though he’d refused to look in your direction as you worked, you could tell he had a week or two worth of stubble that graced his face and throat. Aside from that you had no idea what he looked like. You’d started to wonder, given the very strange circumstances, if he was a wanted man on the run. If he was, would that make you a compliant accomplice to whatever his crimes were?
You shook your head as if to try and also shake out the anxious thoughts. Setting the metal pan down onto the towel you had prepared, you picked up a thread and needle. You cleared your throat and tried to joke, “This is the finishing touch and then you’re free.”
The Winter Soldier nodded once and let you get work. What did it even mean to be free? Free from what? You? If anything, you were going to be free from him. As he thought deeply about your phrasing you were done stitching him up and playing doctor. He’d admit he was impressed by how quickly you had gotten the job done considering the circumstances. Over the course of the at-home operation he continuously went back and forth with himself about your fate. If he was allowed to have an opinion, which he wasn’t, he would think that killing you was completely unnecessary. The mission was completed but he knew if Hydra operatives ever had even an inkling about you or the help you provided him you’d have a bullet to the back of your head before dawn broke with no questions asked. If he was allowed to feel, which he wasn't, he would feel responsible for your death even if he didn't personally pull the trigger. Just interacting with you and your humble cabin would be reason enough to the organization.
You stood up and stretched, your back cracking from being practically hunched over for nearly two hours. You let out a soft moan from the satisfaction and began collecting the bloodied instruments to sterilize later. The Winter Soldier finally takes his eyes off the fire and his gaze falls on to your backside. He watched you begin a partial clean up with a long yawn. He takes a look at his chest, cleaned and stitched with precision, before looking back over to you. During the operation, his hand never left the position on his knife but now it was beginning to tremble. If he was allowed to want, which he wasn't, he wouldn’t want to do this to you at all. The man was battling thoughts and feelings, everything Hydra condemned for a super soldier, he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
“This is for you,” You say from the opposite side of the room, breaking him out of his thoughts. You continued to keep your back against him, still complying to his privacy. In your hand you had a small package of tablettes. He frowned at this but said nothing as you set it down on the counter you stood in front of, “It’s not anything strong but it's all I have,” You didn't think he would take you up on the offer but you offered them anyway because that’s just who you were. You pick up the vodka bottle by the neck and take a look at it before spinning the lid off, “And this is for me.”
The man watched you take a swig of the liquor and grimace briefly followed by a shudder before wiping your hand against the corner of your mouth. You thought about offering the vodka to him as well but decided against it since pain medication, no matter how weak or strong, wasn't exactly the best combination with alcohol. You set the bottle on the counter and yawned again, “It's been quite an eventful evening and you should get as much rest as you can. All I have for you is the couch, just don’t sleep on your side, okay? Back only. And with that, I will be going to bed.”
The Winter Soldier watched you walk across the room and turn into the corner to climb a flight of stairs but before you made the ascent you stopped in your tracks, a single hand on the railing. He could sense your hesitation to speak even without seeing your face so he waited. You spoke so softly that if it weren’t for his decades of sensory training he would have missed it, “You never did tell me your name…”
Again, there was this intense sense of dread and discomfort knotting in his gut that made him so hyper aware of his fragile state of mind. His name? Why did you want to know his name? Why do you keep putting yourself in a position of danger? He knew you didn't know better but something was gnawing at his heart as he watched you unknowingly walk on a very thin tight rope of certain death. His eyes never left you but his concentration was somewhere else entirely. What was his name again? He couldn’t recall being referred to as anything other than “Soldat” or “The Asset.” Your seemingly simple question was sending him into a downward spiral. His head began to pound painfully as sweat started to trickle down his back.
You couldn’t help but chuckle silently to yourself. Of course the mysterious injured stranger wanted to remain mysterious. You didn't know what you were expecting. You took a single resigned step up the staircase before he said something else entirely, much to your surprise.
“Thank you.” His voice sounded strained but his gratitude was genuine. Too many feelings were drowning him and this was all he could manage amidst the inner chaos.
Startled by his simple words, your head shot in his direction before you could allow yourself to fight the impulse. Your breath hitched in your throat as you caught a glimpse of the man sitting on the couch. The illumination of the fire was just enough for you to make out his facial features. His steely cool blue eyes stared back at you with no reaction. Your heart dropped into your stomach, feeling suddenly uneasy. It felt as though you were a child who got caught doing something they knew they shouldn’t be doing by an authority figure. You looked away just as quickly as you looked at him, gluing your eyes to the floor. You waited for him to say something, or even curse at you, but neither came. Why were you so nervous? You swallowed a lump in your throat before speaking, unsure if to even acknowledge that you’d seen his cold but handsome face, “Of course…”
Without waiting for a further response you climbed up the stairs hastily. Why was your heart racing so fast? You mulled over the events of the evening as you changed into your sleep wear. Despite sitting so close to him and touching his chest, somehow just looking at him felt far more intimate. You tried to reason it was because you were in work mode and didn't even render his bare chest but now that you were away from it all you felt your face grow hot. You jumped when you suddenly heard the heavy slam of the front door. You waited for a moment to hear for anything else but only silence fell. Opening your bedroom door you called out but never received an answer.
The Winter Soldier had been quick to throw on his compression shirt and tactical vest, ignoring the burning sensation from his fresh stitches. His eyes wandered across the first floor of your cabin once more before he stole your heavy far-too-big coat, slipping it on with minimal struggle. Without another thought he swung the front door open and absconded into the night. He had rested long enough and needed to get as far away from your cabin as he could before Hydra reclaimed him. If they asked of his whereabouts in a mission debriefing he was unsure if the conditioning would betray him and force him to tell the truth and your fate would be sealed. For now, all he could do was walk through the night.
Several hours of walking through the dark, thick wooded area would be a death sentence for any man but the Winter Soldier was not any man. He halted in his motions as he saw the faint green light of night vision goggles flickering between trees in the distance. Hydra had finally located their asset. He would of course go along with them and then give a mission report should they ask for one and considering the mission had gone completely haywire they would no doubt need a detailed account. He had just hoped that after he told them he spent hours walking through the snow until extraction, which was true, they would leave it at that and he nor Hydra would ever come into contact with you again.