#non-con theme

"Soldat," Winter's eyes were the only thing that moved to indicate he heard the Handler, "Captain America and The Black Widow have infiltrated Zola's 'brain' and survived the missile sent their way. As soon as they come onto our radar again, you are to silence them. Be ready."

Zola. Winter nor James had any positive feeling toward the scientist, and he hoped the missile strike had erased the horrid little man forever. "The Technician." Winter said and waited for the other man to give him permission to continue, "She gave me food earlier to see if I can handle it. I have too much energy, and exercise did not alleviate it - I'm tense."

The handler didn't like the sound of the word 'tense'. A tense Soldat often resulted in an irritated and violent Soldat. "You want to go for a run or something?"

Winter sat up and turned his head to look at the man, "Something."

--

Y/N rolled her blanket up and shoved it between the headboard of the bed and her back, they wouldn't give her more pillows, and she couldn't breathe if she lay down flat. That wasn't her only reason for being unable to sleep, though she wished it was. What she had said to Winter, how she had treated him, the briefest flash of hurt in his eyes when called the Handlers to come and fetch him like a loose dog... It was what she had wanted, right?

To hurt him, to chase him away so that when she was either left to die untreated or executed, it wouldn't break him.

Y/N wasn't sure if she had been selfish or kind. On the one hand, she thought she was saving his mind; what he had of it. She knew him enough to know Hydra's puppet from the person Winter used to be - and she hoped that person found a way to get away from Hydra and be free.

On the other hand, Y/N wanted him to resent her and treat her unkindly, as he had in the past. She wanted Winter to make her hate him so that the dull ache in her heart wouldn't throb so painfully with her struggling lungs. Then she wouldn't worry about him anymore.

When she had first agreed to sleep with him, it had been because she was hoping to find a charming young man who laughed and smiled and danced. She had selfishly wanted to pry open Winter and snatch James out... and she had been lonely.

Had Winter been lonely too?

Learning that her worsened asthma was due to organ damage from the emergency thaw out, particularly her left lung, Y/N had asked the medic what could be done - they had shrugged and sent her away. No longer was she the highly valued Cryo Technician, but a loose end. Dying from complications was a little less messy for Hydra... one less unmarked grave for them to hide.

Winter had always warned her she would get herself killed. Two hard knocks on her door made Y/N yelp and grab for her perfume bottle on the bedside table - not much of a defence, but she carried it with her to the door and opened it slowly. She saw a bearded man in uniform first, and then just behind him was The Winter Soldier. "I'm not interested," Y/N said tiredly, looking at the Handler rather than the brunette, "Go find a different girl to fuck."

"I don't think you get a choice, sweetie." No sooner had the man said it that Winter was moving past him and wrapping his titanium hand around her throat. He walked her backwards into the room and then hissed when he felt a spray of something hitting his skin. "Soldat?!" The handler reached for his handgun and paused when Winter barked that it was only perfume - he was fine.

Y/N heard the bottle smash on the floor as she grabbed his wrist with both hers and tried to move him, "Let me go!! I'm not - don't touch me, Winter! Get off me!!"

Watching her struggle and shaking his head at the fuss she was making, the handler told the Soldier that he had twenty minutes and closed the door as he left.

The woman continued to pull at his hand, gasping for air and choking - it wasn't because of his hand though. Winter had grabbed her neck but not once had he squeezed or tightened his grip; this was for show. "Calm down. I'm not going to do anything." He murmured and shoved her gently so that she was sat on her bed with a slight bounce, "Where're your inhalers?" Y/N pointed to her drawer, and he fetched it for her, attempting to hold it to her mouth until she snatched it out of his hand. He hadn't meant to set her off. He had made sure not to press her windpipe, but she had panicked and not taken a moment to realise he wasn't doing more than holding her throat. Winter knew she would have sent him away, and he knew the man he had been with wouldn't stop him if he acted like he was going to force Y/N. The thought that the man would stand by and let Winter rape a woman made him sick, and he wondered just how lowly people thought of him.

He wasn't a monster. He didn't want to be a monster.

Whilst waiting for her to catch her breath, he rubbed at his eye and winced as the burning in his eye and nostrils got worse. Most of the perfume she sprayed at him had hit his hair - it wasn't a bad plan. Why did she have perfume if her asthma was this bad? And when had he ever known her to wear it? Thinking it through, Winter landed on a few memories of the scent, though it was so much lighter, and then he recalled a small bottle she had in her bag earlier, one with a see-through cap that showed a rollerball applicator. He was so concentrated on answering his own question that he nearly missed her asking him why he was there. "Earlier... you were pushing me away, weren't you?"

"Yes. I'm sick of yo-"

The side of his fist hit the wall on his right, the plaster splintering under the force and Y/N stared at him with wide, frightened eyes as he shouted, "Shut up!" Whether she was genuinely sick of him or lying to force him to leave, Winter didn't want to hear it, and he didn't think he could bear hearing it. "Just shut up!" He was quieter this time, "You can't mess with me like this. You can't poke and prod at me, hoping for me to remember something from before. You can't compromise me in hopes that I'll just change into a man." Winter's voice cracked at the end, and he crouched down in front of her, his hands on her knees, "I'm not a man, Y/N. I'm aware enough to know that the things I do are wrong, that I'm a killer, and when I do it, I have no control... my body goes on its own. I lift a gun, and I tell myself 'no', but it always ends the same. You said I was a puppet, and you're right. You're kind for not calling me what I am because even I can see I'm a monster. They ripped me apart and put back the pieces they wanted - Anything of the original is in here by accident...."

"Winter..." Y/N breathed and shook her head, "It's not your fault."

He scoffed but continued speaking, "I'll kill Captain America, and when everyone is distracted by the Hellicarrier launch, I'll come get you, and I'll get you out of here."

The Technician grabbed his hands on her knees and shook her head again, "Not without you." She heard his sharp intake of breath and watched as his pupils dilated, his eyebrows drawing together as he remained still, "Winter?"

Shaking it off, Winter stood up and headed for the door, "It's nothing. I just... there was a flash of something. Just keep your inhalers on you for when I come get you."

Y/N clutched the sheets on her bed, her thoughts going everywhere at once but always coming back to one conclusion: They were getting out of Hydra.

At least she had hoped they were. Hopes that were dashed barely fourteen hours later when Y/N was dragged from her bed by two Hydra agents and shoved down the hallways of The Vaults for no reason other than 'The Asset is unstable'.

Unstable?

That could mean so many things. Winter could be injured, he could be having a violent episode, he could have given himself away and was now known to be compromised. And if he was any of those things, why did they need her?

Was this it? Was this her execution date?

It was a miracle that she hadn't been triggered into an attack, though her breaths were wheezy, and a few short coughs escaped her. Two gated doors were pulled open, each locking quickly behind her and then the hall opened up into a room where the walls were lined with bank boxes. Either side of her were consoles, computers and soldiers with their rifles raised, and in the middle was Winter on high alert whilst sat in the memory suppressor.

His skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, his body stiff and battered, a technician was unconscious across the room and Winter's titanium arm was missing a panel. He was hardly blinking as he sat tense and ready; his chest was rising and falling in short, sharp breaths. They allowed her to approach him and Y/N looked at the monitors attached to him - his vitals were off the charts. She was alarmed at how hard his heart was pumping, his blood pressure was high, adrenaline levels were unstable as if he were still fighting or expecting to. Winter was in full battle mode, and his body wasn't telling him to calm down. "Winter...," Y/N called him gently, "You need to calm down. There's no fight."

Placing her hand on his shoulder made him flinch, and his muscles bunched almost painfully, "Please, you're making everyone nervous, and I don't want you getting shot." Nor was she keen to meet a bullet just yet, "They think you're unstable." Winter's jaw clenched, but slowly he lowered his shoulders and took in a deep breath, "That's it." He wasn't looking at her, but she could see him deflate and gave a sigh of relief. Y/N picked up an ECG patch and leaned closer to him as she placed it on his body, trying to keep her voice low enough so that only he would hear, "Keep it together, Winter, make your report and not another word."

The Technician headed for a console and tapped a few of his old test results, trying her best to find an old battle report where he had remained hypervigilant and play this off as if it were usual. There was a brief moment their eyes had met, and he looked frightened - this wasn't just the fight, this was something else, and she wondered if coming face to face with Steve Rogers had set him off.

The combat would have been close. There was no chance for her to wonder or enquire as the gates to the vault rattled open, and Pierce appeared. The man took in the tense air of the room, he watched as Winter became tense again, and then he approached the Soldier to demand the 'Mission Report'.

He asked twice.

Winter remained unresponsive - he either didn't want to answer or couldn't.

He didn't ask a third time and instead backhanded Winter hard enough to jerk his head to the side; Y/N barely kept herself in check. The effort it took for her not to get up and smash Peirce's head into the drawers lining the wall made her tremble, and she could just imagine Winter's surprise. The Winter Soldier didn't move; he continued staring toward the right, unblinking, until finally, he croaked, "The man on the bridge…." His blue eyes were unfocused, moving all about the room and faces of the agents holding rifles, almost as if he was disorientated. His expression kept changing in what she could only guess was frustration and anxiety.

He wanted to speak, his conditioning was crumbling into tiny pieces, and he wasn't guarding himself. "The man on the bridge..." He kept blinking in quick succession as he recalled something before turning his gaze up to Pierce, "I knew him." The blinking had almost stopped again, but she could see his heart on the screen was pumping as hard and as fast as hers. And then Pierce started doing what he did best: Lying. Pretty words that were designed to lull Winter into a false sense of security, a false sense of belonging that had people falling over themselves to please the director.

She'd fallen for it, and she silently prayed that Winter would just appease the old man. That he would give his report and nothing else.

Y/N could see Winter wasn't listening though, he had gone back to staring at nothing. All throughout Pierce's little 'Saving the masses' speech, Winter hardly blinked; he was definitely working through something, putting a puzzle together in his head – searching.

"...Don't...." The woman breathed, her nails biting into her palms as she fisted her hands, her heart hammering into her ribcage and thundering in her ears, "Don't...."

"But I knew him." He knew he knew something and didn't care what Pierce had to say, the painfully, self-deprecating smile – though it was more a grimace – showed how hard this was for him, and Y/N realised this wasn't Winter.

This was James. Frightened, tired and broken James Barnes.

Winter was shoved back into the chair, steel bands restraining him as they gave him a mouthguard to bite down on. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his terrified gasps filling the room as Pierce told them to 'Wipe him'.

"Please!" Y/N got up so quickly that her chair clattered to the floor, "Please don't wipe him, Mr Pierce!" She'd caught hold of his sleeve as he passed close by, "It's an adrenaline spike - he doesn't know what he's saying! Please, please!" The man tore his arm from her, ordering someone to remove her before she did more damage to the Asset.

Winter's screams drowned out hers, and she couldn't help but cry and fight as hard as she could against the Hydra agent dragging her from the vault. They were tearing and shredding everything up inside his head. Leaving nothing but Hydra and killing the man she loved in the process.

--

Y/N had lost consciousness during her fight to get free. Her lungs had gone into distress, and her airway had nearly closed up, but she hadn't cared - they would kill her anyway.

Waking up in the infirmary had confused her though. There was an IV drip set up at her side and a breathing mask over her nose and mouth. On a metal trolley beside her bed were bottles of medicine for bringing down fever and antibiotics. There were names on the bottle she didn't recognise, but by the way, her chest felt blissfully light - the heavy weight she'd felt the past few weeks gone - she assumed it was for that. That meant the damage done to her body could be treated and maybe even cured, or at least managed.

This wasn't being done out of the kindness of Hydra's heart. Feeling that her wrists were cuffed to either side of the bedrails, Y/N searched the small room for a guard. All she found was two empty beds, medical cabinets and a camera in the corner of the room. Her guess was that she was being used as either incentive for Winter to do as he was ordered - just in case the shock therapy had failed - or for him to prove his loyalty by killing her later.

The television suddenly blaring out sound made Y/N jump; her eyes went to the door, then to the camera in the corner and then finally settled on the news channel of something that had happened hours ago. The news cameras were trained on the hellicarriers in the sky as banners sped along the bottom with urgent updates on 'Emergency evacuations points', 'Searches in the rubble for bodies' and 'Captain America in critical condition.' There was a firefight, figures were caught flying and jumping all over. And then the giant carriers were falling out of the sky, fire and smoke billowing from them as they tumbled. After that, the reporters began speaking of injured bystanders and rising fatalities. Some sort of report had leaked onto the internet, and Hydra's name began falling from every mouth.

Outside the infirmary, she heard frantic running and yelling; they were fleeing the bank vaults, grabbing their things and scattering before even more of their secrets were discovered. One headline did distract her from the noise and distant rattle of gunshots - Director Pierce was dead.

But where was Winter?

Had he been on the Hellicarriers? Had Steve Rogers killed his childhood friend to save tens of thousands of lives?

Gunshots were coming closer to the infirmary. Likely the 'Clean up crew' were executing loose ends to ensure they could hide in the shadows for as long as possible. Some agents would take a deal, those who would sell information and those that simply didn't matter enough to be rescued. There was no point in her yelling or screaming or even struggling against her restraints... she wanted to at least die with some dignity.

The door to the infirmary opened, and a figure dressed in tactical gear with his face half-covered raised his handgun, "Last words?"