Captain America: The Winter Soldier SPOILERS abound! Beware!
Summary: For some reason Steve keeps running into the familiar face of the Winter Soldier. Each new time heralds a mission gone wrong, and yet, Steve can't help but be baffled. Is the Soldier his enemy? Or friend? /Capkink response/ AU TWS [SPOILERS]
Any foreign words has a tooltip with translation
Natasha slipped into the backseat of the van. Steve glanced back at her, one hand up clutching the hold in reflex.
“Well?” Nick asked as he put the car into gear.
“Clint's gone underground,” Natasha said. “Something must have spooked him. I left a message where he could find it.” She didn't say that 'where he could find it' meant engraved for all time in sandstone after hijacking a SHIELD drone. She didn't need to, given Nick's pursed lips and disappointed scowl.
“What about Stark?” he demanded.“Stark will meet us in the city, I'll hand off the package there,” Natasha said calmly.
“Knowing Stark that will be pretty public,” Steve pointed out. “If HYDRA has even a hint of that we have the drive and gave it over to Stark....”
“Oh I don't doubt he'll make the meeting as public as he can,” Natasha agreed, “but they won't be focused on the exchanged if they're focused on Stark. I'll slip it to Pepper when he makes an entrance.”
Steve had a bad feeling as he asked, “What type of entrance?” Natasha just smiled. “...I'm not going to like this am I.”
“You usually don't,” Nick muttered. The amount of rows Steve had gotten into with Tony since their meeting were becoming nigh legendary within SHIELD. Suffice it to say there was a reason why Steve ended up choosing to remain away from Stark Tower.
“Don't worry, Steve, it'll be fun!” Natasha said with a grin. Steve grimaced.
“That's not exactly what I wanted to hear.”
Nick rolled his eyes as the van slipped past the final checkpoint. So far, so good. While the two children, because Nick couldn't honestly call Steve Rogers an old man, not with the way he bickered like a big brother alongside Natasha, exchanged words and bars Nick routed the destination. He suddenly felt a bit like his grandfather, old and dealing with two fool kids in the backseat. Never mind that one of those fool kids was actually ninety-five and had the mannerisms to prove it. Nick shook his head with a sigh.
“Activate communications encryption protocol,” he said, loud enough to cut the chatter. Steve turned around in his seat with a raised eyebrow.
Activating communications encryption protocol.
“Open secure line zero four zero five,” Nick repeated. There was a short Confirmed and a second of silence before Maria Hill's picture took up a portion of the screen.
“This is Hill.”
“I need you here in DC,” Nick said calmly. “Deep shadow conditions.”
“I'll be there in four hours.”
“You have three,” Nick corrected, then sighed as the line disconnected. He glanced at the little timer. Good, not enough to track the call.
“Nick?” Natasha asked, leaning forward in her seat, curious.
“Maria's the only other one I trust aside from you, Barton, Phil, Stark, and ain't that just perfect, and Captain America here,” Nick reiterated. “Anyone else could be HYDRA. I'm not going to risk SHIELD any further than it is by pulling in someone who I can't trust. Besides, a small elite strike team will be more effective than a slew of agents.”
Steve nodded. “That's how we took down the Hydra bases mostly,” he agreed. “Me and my 'Howling Commandos'. Rarely did we take on more men, and only if we expected higher resistance.”
Nick nodded. “How do you think I got the idea? Now where in the hell are we meeting Stark, Natasha?”
Nick pulled the car up to the curb and looked around cautiously. The space was amply crowded, most probably because Stark was there on a date with Miss Potts. It was good cover, both for an assassin and for the target so it could work both in favor and against. At the same time Stark himself gave good coverage so if anyone attempted to kill Nick or his companions here the blowback would be extreme enough to put a dent into HYDRA's plans if they even attempted it.
“This'll do,” Nick nodded. He opened the drivers side passenger door and slipped into the crowd with Natasha and Steve. Steve, being Captain America, naturally drew eyes around him as they entered into the restaurant.
“Hi, I have a reservation with Tony Stark,” Natasha said cheerfully at the hosts stand. The hostess stuttered for a brief moment, almost dropping her folders at the name, but then Tony stepped out and waved.
Steve withheld a groan as Tony approached.
“What is wrong with you?” Tony asked. “You don't write, you don't call. Don't you love me anymore? What about the baby!”
“Stark,” Steve said slowly, but didn't get much else in edgewise as next second Tony bound up and planted a kiss onto Steve's lips leaving the other man wide eyed in surprise. Behind him Pepper Potts sighed and hugged Natasha with a smile. Natasha took the time to slip the drive into Pepper's jacket pocket, obscured by the hosts stand, before Tony dragged all three of them back into the restaurant. Steve looked pale.
“You okay there, Cap?” Nick asked with a wry grin.
Steve swallowed. “Fine,” he said, and if his voice was a bit higher than normal nobody said anything.
The Soldier pulled out a pen of localized anesthetic and stabbed himself in the leg. He cursed the pain that radiated up and out and the worse it got as he splint the thing, dressed, and then took his bike off to hunt down his target. It brought to mind a phantom pain in his left arm, of cold and falling, of wind tearing through his clothes and his skin, of hitting the ground and everything breaks and--
He shook his head, raised his right hand and pressed into his cheek until he almost screamed from the pain. Getting distracted now would mean failure, and the Soldier doesn't want another lesson on why failure is not an option.
“Радуйся Hydra,” he snarled to himself, snapping his mind back into place. The pain washed away and he settled down onto his stomach, rifle perched at the edge of the roof. He found and then followed the car that housed Nick Fury until the man came to a stop outside this restaurant. He'd gone a further three blocks, took a right, and wrapped back two before parking and limping his way up to the roof just in time to catch his target, Subject: Black Widow, and the man in blue not in blue step out towards the restaurant.
The Soldier breathed out slowly through his nose, ignoring the stinging sensation that radiated up into his skull. Pain was peripheral and had no place here. He settled his eye against the scope and watched, waited. For now information gathering was most important. He wasn't in any condition for a drawn out battle, and if his brief taste of the man in blue not in blue's abilities meant anything, a drawn out battle would definitely occur.
He made made a mental note on Fury's chosen bodyguards, shifted minutely, and kept his gaze firmly on the target. The Soldier watched as they walked up to the hosts stand, as Subject: Black Widow cheerfully greeted the host—the pang of familiarity hit him so that for a moment he had to look away, had to hiss to himself, “Радуйся Hydra,” and snap his mind back into place for the second time.
The Soldier snarled. This mission already began to take its toll, he didn't dare think what prolongued surveillance would do to his already fractured state. He needed the freeze, needed the cold to stop this deterioration so that when he awoke again he could be on top of his game, ready to do as commanded. He breathed out through his nose and returned to watching the target.
His left hand clenched into a fist as he ground his teeth together, grinding the grip of his weapon into scrap metal. He actually had to forcefully pull his hands from the rifle, roll onto his back, and stop looking at the sudden surge of (what? what is this?) red hot (rage?) that shot through him like some sort of sick disease. The Soldier breathed out heavily, snapped, “Радуйся Hydra,” to no effect. All he could see was the man in blue not in blue lip locked with someone else, and all he could think was a sharp, possessive,
and all he could feel was the urge to pull the trigger and drop a slug into the offenders face. The Soldier scrubbed his right hand over his face, slammed his head into the concrete, but nothing seemed to help. He thought, 'Malfunction?' to himself, because what else could this be? This was not something he'd been prepared for, told how to handle. This was new, and new was dangerous. New meant pain and re-education. The Soldier grit his teeth.
New meant failure. Malfunction. Error.
The Soldier laid there. It took work, but he brought himself back. He slipped his gaze to the scope, the red hot fire in his veins simmering, but maintained for the moment. He caught the target and his bodyguards leaving, and moved to pack up. He took one look at his rifle and, furious with himself, took the weapon apart and tossed all but the scope over the side of the building as he limped his way back to his bike.
The scope the Soldier could still use, the rest was ruined. The memory of how brought the fire to the surface, strong enough that he growled, lowly, to himself, “моя.” He slipped his splinted leg over the seat of his bike, settled in place, and turned the ignition. The initial burst jolted the fracture, but the Soldier bore it down until he took off, able to follow his target and the man in blue not in blue towards their next destination.
He'd keep observing, it was his mission after all, but now he had another (personal?) mission to accomplish as well. Find out more about that man in blue not in blue. Find out why his blood boiled (what did it mean?) and then, when he had unearthed what he could, put to rest this, this (what is it? fuck he knew this! remember, dammit!) whatever the hell this was.
Never mind that the Soldier had not once done something the he wanted or something that his owner didn't expressly say for him to do. He worked around that bit that said you can't do this by reminding himself that he was preemptively taking action. They would want him to find out what this was and make it stop, after all. They'd order him to do it, and so knowing this, he would. It was merely a mission they'd assign in the future, but why couldn't he do it now instead?
The first (wall?) took a chip. The Soldier (no, not--) began to wake.
Russian words (hopefully)
1. Голубка – golubka – my dove
2. Радуйся Hydra – Raduĭsi͡a Hydra – Hail Hydra
3. моя – moi͡a – my, mine