𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

No Matter Where I Sleep, You Are Haunting Me

A/N: America is HUGE!!! I'm British, so I just spent twenty minutes trying to google the whereabouts of all the states...

Steve Rogers is awake.

Steve Rogers is awake, and there is noise in his head.

Howling, overpowering noise, clawing at the walls of his skull and biting into his brain. If he closes his eyes, the wailing swallows him whole. If he keeps them open, the lights of the hospital blind him.

Instead, he simply blinks slowly, eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. Everything hurts. Everything. In brief, flickering seconds, he lets the flashes of memory through.

The agony of fists against his face, the rush of wind in his ears, his hair, and the soft hands of the river tugging him down, down, down.

Other hands, rough and gloved, dragging him back out again and leaving him, shaking and half-dead on the rocks. A figure stands over him, watching him, and Steve thinks it's Bucky, but this is where the memories get hazy.

Suddenly, there is a girl. Dressed like a doll, blood on her shoes, hanging onto the figure's arm and speaking to him in a language Steve can't quite pick out. Russian, a few English words slipping through.

Maybe.

Steve's memory flickers like a faulty lightbulb.

The little girl's face warps as she turns away from him, wrapping around the figure like an angel, like a noose.

He whispers to her. She giggles. Steve hears them leave.

The thoughts fade into nothing again.

Slow, every movement exhausting, he reaches to tug at Sam's sleeve. "There was a girl." Steve croaks. Finally, the other man glances at him.

"What?"

"There was a little girl. With Bucky, I mean, right after he pulled me from the river."

"What, like he kidnapped someone?" Sam frowns, "We need to send out a missing child report or something?"

Steve rubs his forehead. "No, no, I mean with him. She hugged him and she was talking to him. He picked her up, Sam, he picked her up like he cared about her."

His vision is blurred, his head heavy, and he sinks into the pillows again, closing his eyes.

A girl, so little, smiling wide-eyed at Bucky like she adored him. Her memory trembles in the hurricane of Steve's head.

He pulls at Sam, the strain of it twisting in his chest.

"Get me a sketch artist. I can describe her, just need someone now."

"Cap-"

"She was with him!" Steve rasps, impossibly frustrated. "She was with him, Sam, properly, like they worked together or something. She asked if she should kill me, but she looked scared, too, like she didn't want to. There was blood on her shoes. She was only a kid." He curls his fists into the duvet, "That's what HYDRA was doing, that was their big play. Child soldiers. It's sick."

Sam stares at him. He has this look in his eyes like he doesn't quite believe him but can't bring himself to say it.

"Look, Cap." He starts tentatively, "You were half dead, alright, and this whole thing sounds an awful lot like a fever dream or something. If there had been a girl, why hadn't we seen her before?"

Steve wants to scream. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes until he sees stars. "I don't know! But I know that she was there, I swear on it. There was a little girl, she was pale, she had dark hair and a blue dress, and Bucky hugged her." He sighs angrily. "Tell someone."