BRAINWASHED ─ marvel

X. PROJECT SHIFTER

Chapter Ten
Soroya

"We'll hear the sound of violins,
out yonder where the blue begins,
the moon will guide us as we go drifting along."

The Ella Fitzgerald song 'Stairway to the Stars' continues to play as we drive through Zima, filling the silence around us that neither James nor I want to fill. On my part, I'm far too distracted to make conversation like I usually do. I'm too consumed with worry and anticipation over what we'll find when we get to Dr. Becker's lab. Will I find the answers I've been craving? Will I find nothing? Will going there send us on an even longer path to get answers?

I have no idea why James is so quiet. It could be because he's trying to be considerate and not pressure me into talking when I'm so distracted, but I can tell something else is bothering him. As he turns our stolen car down a darkly lit alleyway, his expression is thoughtful, his body language rigid. He seems stuck in his own mind.

I would bet his mind isn't the most pleasant place to be stuck in.

"Did you remember something?" I ask him softly, no longer able to contain my concern.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Last night." It's taken us three days to get to Zima, and both of us had agreed to alternating driving shifts so we could drive through the night and avoid staying in another bug infested room. But last night we were both so exhausted we didn't care, so we stopped at the nearest motel and passed out. I had thought he'd slept well...perhaps I was wrong.

"Do memories always come back to you while you sleep?"

"Lately yes," James sighs, his jaw tightening. "Last night I dreamt of the war."

It takes me a moment to realize he means World War II. Sometimes I forget how old he is. "Do you want to talk about it?"

James doesn't answer for a moment, then he says, " I dreamt of battle; how chaotic it was, how loud and terrifying it was. I watched so many men die; men I knew, men I had become friends with. Even after the fighting was over I would lay in my tent and listen to the screams of the wounded. I dreamt of writing letters to my family, to Steve, staring at the pictures of them I had in my tent as I did...up until last night I didn't know what any of them looked like—apart from Steve—and now because of the pictures in my dream I do."

"James..." I have no idea what to say, which is a first for me. There's nothing I could say that would lessen all the pain and suffering he has endured, and it leaves me feeling helpless in the face of his anguish.

Since I can't think of anything to say, I reach out and grab onto his flesh hand, linking my fingers with his, resting our arms between our two seats. For a second I think James will pull his hand away, but instead he squeezes my hand and continues to drive using his metal hand, his expression a little less haunted than before.

It takes another ten minutes to arrive at the address given in the note we found from Dr. Emma Becker. As with all bases in HYDRA, Becker's lab looks like a worn-down abandoned warehouse in order to look inconspicuous, but unlike HYDRA bases, the lab is in the middle of a field, not some abandoned alleyway or ghost-town. It's actually a pretty beautiful location; the grass is lush albeit unkempt, there's hills rolling in the distance, the sun is shining and the breeze is just right.

It's sad such a place of beauty is tainted by HYDRA.

"Do you sense anyone inside? Or is it abandoned?" James asks me as we head towards the lab, the grass swishing against our legs as we do.