#forcefully committed

Jake decides Bill needs to be out of the way for a few days. His solution: have him admitted to a hospital. They claim to be brothers, and the doctors easily believe Jake.

But the plan quickly unravels. What was meant to be a few days stretches far longer, and when Jake finally goes to bring Bill back, he doesn’t find the same friend he left.

Jake believed him and he believed Jake. What each man needed most. But Jake betrayed that so then Bill wasn’t even allowed to believe himself.

Edit by me :)

Song: Rose Colored by Foreign Fields

The doctor looked to his father to exchange a look, when they made eye contact, he nodded, “-You’re not feeling well, my son. I am going to help you.” Dr. Green spoke loudly and slowly to be understood as he stepped over a few feet back to his bag to retrieve a syringe and a vial.

Ave’s eyes followed him and as Dr. Green held up the little glass container to fill the syringe, he shrunk back a little. He didn’t like needles.

“I– I don’t-” He didn’t want that help, he didn’t think.

Green looked over at the servant that had been stationed by the door and nodded his head to him this time.

“Why don’t you go ahead help him.” His father instructed his employee.

The footman took his queue and approached Ave, “It’s okay Mr. Averil, the doc is going to make you feel better,” he placed his large hands on him gently and pressed his shoulders down to the mattress, “Here, Mr. Averil.”

Averil was pliable under the hands and let his legs be lifted onto the bed so he was on top of the bed spread with his head on a pillow, uncertainty faintly ghosting his face.

He looked up to the man with the glasses who leaned over him then, “You’re being a very good boy, shh- good-” suddenly something sharp pricked his arm.

He flinched.

“I know that stings, but you need it, now you need to rest.” The two men looking down at him were getting blurry and they were saying things but it was getting harder to understand them.

The door far away opened, “How is he?” a woman’s voice asked. 

“He-”

—

When Averil woke up conversations were being had but when he opened his eyes no one else was in his room. He vaguely remembered Dr. Green. Dr. Green had-

He felt confused, his mouth was dry, he should go downstairs for tea.

People were still talking but they must have been from the street level below, they sounded liike they were there in the room, unfamiliar and foreign, but he didn’t to try to listen and hear what they were talking about.

He slowly and groggily got himself out of bed and stumbled across his dark bedroom, the curtains still pulled close keeping out the morning light. When he turned the door knob, it stopped. It was jammed, he tried it again, applying a little more pressure. He rattled it a little instead to see if it would come loose but suddenly he heard footsteps in the hall that stopped as his door. He heard the slotting of the key being inserted and then watched as the knob turned, unlocking. The door opened to reveal one of the footmen, Robert, a kind man in his forties.

“Mr. Averil, you’re awake.” He smiled nervously.

Ave was struggling to take in the situation, “The door was locked?”

The man’s eyes flitted uncertainly behind him, “Oh don’t worry about that, why don’t I go get your breakfast and you can have it in bed.”

Dr. Green had been here. Slowly, still confused, and a bit distant he looked around the room, “Have I been sick, Robert?” he asked innocently, he didn’t remember coming down with anything.

“Oh you’re alright Mr. Averil, but the doc wants you to rest. Let me help you lie down and then get you some tea.”

Averil was easily steered back to the bed, still meek and pliable like he had been the night before, clarity already muddling as fog seemed to roll back in.

He was a little dizzy and drowsy so he closed his eyes. A second later the clinking porcelain and tableware of a breakfast tray startled him.

“How did you do that so quickly?” Ave asked the footman in astonishment.

Robert briefly looked confused but then understanding crossed his face, “I’m just that good, Mr. Averil,” he chided, electing to not comment on the fact that he had been gone over ten minutes.

Ave reached for the tea with slow deliberate movement. His hands shook gently when he brought it to his face to cool with his breath. But he didn’t seem to notice, the task at hand required his total concentration.

He was only distracted from it when the downstairs door bell chimed. Ave looked at the window for a moment, curtains still curiously drawn, unusual for this time of day. His mother said the neighbors would notice unhealthy and undisciplined things such as that. Of course he wouldn’t be able to see to street level from his vantage point of the bed anyway but that didn’t occur to him as his thoughts had already been swept to the hygiene of well lit and aired rooms.

Just as quickly as everything else had happened, his door opened without a knock. It revealed Dr. Green with an expectant face.

Dr. Green? He had been here. Yes, last night?

“How has he been?” The aging man addressed the footman who was still in the room.

“Fine, I think? Still slow and confused, but some of that may be the sedation that hasn’t worn off yet.”

Sedation? Oh yes, he remembered that now. He did not like it.

“Averil, son, how do you feel? Are the voices still there?”

Ave creased his eyebrows in confusion, “The ones from the street below?”

Dr. Green exchanged a look with his father. When had his father appeared?

“There are no voices from the street, it’s a Sunday morning, no one is out.”

That was wrong, why were they saying it? It was a cacophony, not irritating, but he could hear the hub bub of the city, all kinds of voices and people speaking over each other, some in their own conversations. Every once in a while a yell.

Occupied by his confusion, he wasn’t aware Dr. Green was approaching the bed until he was standing next to him, a needle held aloft again.

“You’ll be okay Averil, I’m going to give you this so that the travel doesn’t upset you.”

Ave focused on the syringe, Robert had mention the sedative, it made him feel awful. Maybe they had been giving it to him before? Maybe that’s why he’d been confused the last few weeks? Were they lying? Were they actually trying to hurt him?

“No-” Ave shrunk back, “I don’t want that.”

“It’s okay, my boy, it’s medicine, it’s good for you.”

Ave shook his head no, alarm mounting. Heat rising to his ears. He wasn’t a boy anymore and he couldn’t be sick.

The doctor made another move at an attempt. Ave flinched again and this time tried to move further away as he saw Robert also approaching from the corner of his eye.

He was still holding the tea cup. It sloshed everywhere and he dropped the blue bone porcelain onto the covers and he tried to keep shifting across the double sized bed to get away form the men. But his legs caught and twisted in the sheets. He cried out in alarm as Robert put his hands on him. He tried to resist the hands and the claustrophobic feeling all around and lashed out, in any attempt to free his body from the hands and the sheets.

The breakfast tray went tumbling off the side of the bed, dishes crashed in a spectacular fashion and a few things shattered. Tears of distress were forming in the boy’s eyes.

“Please, get a better hold on him!” The doctor rose his voice in frustration.

The hands became stronger and pushed him into the bed harder. Ave cried out again as an additional hand pressed his head to the side into the pillow. Then like before, there was a prick, this time in his neck.

“No!” he sobbed, afraid and horrified in a last attempt to object. But of course, it was already too late. The hands remained for a few more seconds until his muscles began to relax and soften into the bed against his will.

The room became foggy and he could feel his mind slipping away too.

“Yes, immediate admission will be the best thing, this outburst confirms my fears, the boy is most unwell,” Someone said solemnly.

“I agree, Margaret’s going to be beside herself… but you said they already agreed to take him?” a gruffer voice responded.

---

“Hey there, buddy. Can you look at me? Yeah attaboy, that’s it.” There was a bright light in his eyes, strong fingers were holding his chin. When he drowsily tried to pull away they tightened.

“Ah- ah, be a good boy, let me look at your eyes.”

The Soldier did as the man asked and stilled.

“Good,” The man cooed in a falsely gentle tone, “Not so much fight left anymore, huh?”

Don’t respond. He wasn’t allowed to respond to the scientists unless ordered. Pierce liked to punish him for that one.

“Damn they sure trained him, when does he snap out of the drooling mess and into an assassin?” A disembodied voice rang out from behind the man with the light.

The Soldier blinked again, were the scientists going to actually do something?

“He’s cleared for another dose, everything looks normal.”

“There’s my answer then. Hey James, time to take the little pills again.” The voice from behind was giddy, the soldier didn’t understand.

But then a cup was being foisted into his vision much too quickly and his head was being tilted back by another pair of hands. He opened his mouth willingly, perhaps they would actually knock him out for this experiment?

---

“Shit. I mean he wants to see him. We can’t very well say no to Captain America.”

“We can and we will. Mr. Barnes is much too unstable at the moment.”

“He’s already here and the director has already ordered that we allow it.”

Who was Mr. Barnes?

“Jesus, they’re gonna send him off the deep end again, he’s just barely responding as it is now. Doesn't even know where he is...”

“We’ll keep him restrained, it’ll be fine.”

The Soldier continued to stare at the wall that faced away from the cell door. They might stare at him but he at least liked to ignore it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to mind. Someone had told him that once. At least he thought? Someone with cold eyes.

---

They had him set up at a table, attached to a chair with a jacket with no ends to the sleeves that wrapped around himself.

He had forgotten himself as he sat there, empty. He remembered he was good at that.

A door opened but at first no one came through. The Soldier could only think that he was tired. He wished they’d put him back into cryo.

“Buck.”

A man had appeared, was standing right in front of him. He looked ... in pain?

“Hi, Bucky, they said you might not remember me,” The blonde man laughed uncertainly, “Judging by the look on your face, guess they were right.”

A sad smile replaced the wry one that had appeared during the laugh.

The Soldier stared back, confused. This didn't make sense.

“Is this a memory?” The Soldier couldn’t help feeling like he had seen this man before, an old handler long gone?

For a moment the other man’s face lit up, but just as quickly it fell back into the creased forehead, “It’s been that bad huh?”

What had been bad? The mission?

“Permission to speak?”

The creases grew deeper, was he making the handler unhappy?

“No, you don’t have to-" The man started but then stopped himself, seemed to think and then continue with that same heart broken look in his eyes, "Um yes, you can speak.”

“Something is wrong with my programming, sir. I do not-”

He had relived memories before, Zola had liked to play around with it actually. This must be Pierce. Back before.

Where was Pierce?

The mission failed.

What mission?

“Bucky, do you remember meeting me? A few months ago? You saved my life.”

He wasn’t supposed to save lives? Was this a test?

He was going to be punished. They liked these games. He was playing it wrong.

“Captain, sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but he’s becoming agitated, we don’t think that he- well that he understands where he is- thinks this is Hydra.”

Where did the new person come from? The Soldier hadn’t even noticed them.

“I’m sorry but we need to administer additional sedation,”

The Soldier jerked back in the chair he was attached to, what were they-? There were more people, nothing was moving like it was supposed to- That face.

But I knew him.

Pain overwhelmed his senses, punishment, Pierce said.

There were more hands on him. Voices, too many voices.

Someone was screaming, crying too.