Dead without you ~ stucky

Chapter 8: a normal life?

With Steve being asleep I'm left to my own devices and I feel lost. What am I supposed to do? Steve probably expects me to get some sleep too, but I'm much too riled up to relax. So I leave the door to his bedroom ajar and move into the living room. I move through the living room and look at the newspaper clippings in detail. It's old stuff, stemming from the second world war. I recognize Steve and he's holding his shield. He looks proud and accomplished and I can't help but grin. He looks cocky.

I scan the text, but it doesn't make much sense as I have no idea who these howling commandos are. I skip the remaining text and move onto the next picture. It shows Steve again, but this time he's talking to a dark-haired man who's smiling back at him. They look like good friends, old friends probably, for they seem rather comfortable around each other. The stranger looks vaguely familiar. It's the eyes – those blue eyes. They resemble mine a bit, but just a little bit. Feeling confused, I turn away from the framed pictures and walk toward the window instead. The park beneath me is still asleep, save for one or two joggers. I scan the trees, searching for Hydra agents, but find nothing. This is a location I would have chosen for my shelter. It offers a perfect view all around. So what do I do now?

I don't want to go to sleep, although I must admit to being tired. I move back into the kitchen and come to a halt in front of the fridge. Steve did tell me I could have some food, or milk, which I haven't had in years. I remember liking its taste though. I look about, making sure I'm really alone and slowly open the fridge, not wanting to make any noise that might wake up Steve. Yes, there's a milk bottle inside. I remove it and place it on the kitchen table. It's half full. Do I need a glass or can I drink straight from the bottle? I should probably opt for a glass, which means I need to snoop around the kitchen cupboards and I don't want Steve to think that I'm searching the place.

I need a few minutes to reach a decision – I'm no longer used to making my own decisions and open one of the cupboards. I get lucky and remove a glass. After filling it with some milk, I carefully put the bottle back into the fridge. If I'm lucky, Steve won't notice I drank some. I sit down at the kitchen table and sip. A sudden spasm moves through my neck and an iron clasp moves in place around my brow. A memory, long forgotten, and never really owned, moves into place, showing me Pierce mocking me by offering me milk and knowing damn well my conditioning will never allow me to accept it. Hydra placed the facial mask, that muzzle, tightly in place, making it impossible for me to eat and drink – or talk. I push the glass away from me, wrap my fingers around my head, and ride out the agony I'm in.

It's nothing new; memories trying to find the right spot to settle down in and it always hurts, but normally my handlers are close and either put me back in cryo or strap me into the machine again. This is the first time I'm alone and I need to find a way to deal with it. By the time the pain finally settles down, I'm breathing hard and sweating like mad. If the return of just one memory makes me feel like this what will happen if my memory starts to come back for real?

I don't know how much time passed by, but the first rays of sunlight appear in the still dark sky. Fuck, what if that happens when I'm around people? What if Shield finds out about my problems? Coulson might be Steve's buddy, but that doesn't mean he's mine. What if the guy decides I present a danger to Steve?

I reach for the milk, sip again, and am relieved there's no more chaos in my mind. Looking at the glass in my hands, I'm reminded of that stupid cast. It really has to go, but without creating too much noise. I push my vibranium thumb beneath the cast and use just enough pressure to split it into two. The cast falls onto the kitchen table and I stretch my arm, enjoying my newly found freedom. The arm healed just fine. I spy a trash bin in the corner and dispose of the cast. I feel better already and push back the unpleasant memory of what happened earlier. I don't know what happened, but I can't allow for it to happen again. I need to find a way to control it.