Staring at the computer screen before me in boredom, I took a sip of my coffee. An endless amount of columns filled with numbers were shining back into my face, and endless amounts of numbers waiting for me to sort through them and find any abnormalities.
After weeks of treating minor wounds and assisting with operations, this seemed like a nice change of pace, and at first, it was. But after five days of staring at a screen, it had already gotten rather tiresome. I rubbed my eyes, a small sting reminding me that the blue bruises below it hadn't fully healed yet. At least my nose had stopped hurting without external pressure about two days ago. With a deep sigh, I lifted my coffee mug for another sip, hoping the coffee would help clear the fog of numbers from my mind and help me concentrate, just for me to realize it was empty.
With another deep sigh, I stretched my arms and stood up to go and get another coffee. Walking past a few rooms with researchers that seemed just as tired as I was, one of them being Doctor Akimov who was brooding over the data I had already organized for him, I reached the coffee machine. As the machine loudly started to grind the coffee and made me worry about the arrival of a new headache, I smiled to myself. This was extremely tiresome, but it reminded me of my time at university, of the long evenings of going through the data we had recorded from the rats that Akimov had experimented on. Then a picture of one of the deformed corpses flashed briefly in my mind, wiping the smile off my face again. Looking at my halfway filled coffee mug, I impatiently tapped my finger against the machine. The faster I got back to my work table, the faster I could drown out the memory with numbers again.
The data of course came directly from the experiments, but thanks to the months I had spent helping Doctor Akimov at university, I found it rather easy to lose myself in the numbers. My previous experience turned out to be rather useless however, since most of it had been recorded after Hydra had done their bit of experimenting on the subjects as well. To put it simply, my task of picking out the abnormalities caused by Akimovs experiments turned into finding the specific abnormalities caused by Akimov out of a sea of abnormal measurements.
Taking my finally filled mug from the coffee machine, I went back to our room and sat back down, continuing to scroll through the numbers. Thankfully, the abnormalities caused by Hydra tended to be in the same places, so I had already started figuring out which data was actually interesting and helpful for Doctor Akimov.
And, maybe, I would get a chance at trying to figure out what Hydra was using for their experiments after we were done going through the results of the last experiment. Much to both my and Akimovs annoyance, we weren't told a thing about Hydras experiments, even though they could potentially influence Doctor Akimovs experiments as well.
It certainly made sense for Hydra to be careful about what information they gave us, the Doctor also hadn't been given any additional information about the winter soldier, the layout of this base or any operations and missions going on, but refusing information that was necessary for him to do his job was impractical at best, and possibly deadly for the test subjects at worst.
Once again an image of the experiments appeared in my mind, and I decisively shook my head and went back to work.
My work was soon interrupted again, not because of a lack of coffee, but by a knock on the doorframe of the room. Looking up from the screen, I saw one of the Hydra researchers staring back at me with disdain..
"Hello. What do you want?" I said. The Hydra researchers weren't as sociable as the medics I worked with upstairs, at least not towards me and Dr. Akimov. They seemed to be very devoted to Hydra and barely said anything in our presence, likely to avoid spilling any potentially important information.
"We need a few blood samples to be drawn from the winter soldier. As everyone else is busy here, it will be your task." the researcher answered, proving my assumption that she was only here and talking to me because she needed me to do something right.
"Well, as you can see, I'm busy as well Mrs...", I squinted at her name tag, "Fedorov. Shouldn't one of the medics upstairs do it then?" It probably wouldn't help with the distrust towards me and Akimov if I tried to refuse like this, but while I was curious about the soldier, I wasn't all that stoked to meet him again this quickly. Besides, I really was busy. All these number sets wouldn't sort themselves after all, and when I first met the soldier, they had shifted the task to the medics upstairs as well.
"You are the most unimportant worker down here," she stated, crossing her arms and raising her head in a defensive manner. "In addition you already worked with the soldier alone without it ending in chaos."
I nodded understandingly. This was an order, not a request, and seriously trying to fight it could cause some serious trouble. Plus, remembering Johnny's broken hand and the fact I never got to finish my education, she did have a point. "Alright, I will do it."
"When the soldier is free, a guard will inform you and take you to him." she said, uncrossing her arms. She then turned around and left.
Leaning back in my chair for a moment, I thought about how the meeting with the soldier would go. Drawing blood samples was an easy enough task and even after the punch he gave me, I knew I didn't have to fear anything from him when I was just doing my job. I would just get it over with as fast and smooth as possible, I decided, feeling a bit down.
I sat back up to go back to work as I realized I should probably inform Doctor Akimov so he wouldn't worry when I wasn't at my work place for a while. Looking at the work I had already finished, I decided to take the chance and print out some of my results and bring them over to him as well.
A few minutes later, I was standing in the doorway to Akimovs room, who was still bent over a load of papers on his table, about to knock on his door frame, but then settling on just walking in.
"Here, some new information." I said, as I slid the freshly printed pages onto his table and into his view.
Doctor Akimov looked up from his table at me for a brief moment before turning his head right back down, replying with a simple "Yes, thank you," before returning to concentrate on his work. For a few moments I didn't say anything and just watched him work. He was fully immersed in his work, as he had been for the past four days. Thinking about it now, we hadn't actually talked that much with each other since I had come down here, apart from the first day where he kept asking me about my injuries while we spent some time talking about what we had experienced so far.
"Is there anything else?" he then asked without looking up, causing me to blink and break the stare I was developing.
"Yes. I also wanted to tell you that the Hydra researchers gave me an extra assignment," I explained, "They told me to draw a few blood samples from the winter soldier for them, so I will be busy elsewhere for a bit."
Akimov abruptly raised his head at the mention of the winter soldier. "They ordered you to meet the winter soldier? The one who punched you?" he asked, and upon my nod, he clenched his jaw in anger. "I'm going to talk to Tarasov. They can't do that," he stated and stood up.
As he made the first step towards me to get to the door, I put my arm on his shoulder to stop him. "Tarasov?" I asked with raised brows. "Complaining to the guy that gave the soldier the order in the first place will only make things worse!"
"They promised me that you would be safe if I complied with their orders. Mikhail, that guy is dangerous. This is not acceptable, and I am going to demand that they keep their end of the deal," Akimov answered, determined, before he attempted to walk past me again.
Pushing him back by his shoulders, I frantically shook my head. "You will only annoy Tarasov for wasting his time. I told you before, the winter soldier is not as dangerous as he may seem. He won't harm me unless he is told to do so," I said angrily.
Akimov grabbed my hands and took them off his shoulders. "It is my fault that you are here, and it is my responsibility to keep you safe! I will talk to Tarasov, it's for your own good!" he stated.
Before he could try to walk off again, I took on a more stable stance to block his way. "It is precisely because it is MY health at risk that I should decide how to proceed in this situation!"
As he hesitated, Akimovs expression changed. Letting go of my wrists and putting his hands on his hips, he reluctantly answered, "Well, I think it would be best to talk to Tarasov, because..." He thought for a moment. He was clearly still angry, but seemed to be able to think more clearly now. "...Because, even though he certainly isn't nice, he can be reasoned with. Despite from what you told me of your previous appointment with him, I'm not convinced that the soldier is that rational," he explained, "and, if I refuse to continue working, we have something to pressure Tarasov with."
I considered his words for a moment before shaking my head again. "Tarasov may be reasonable to a certain degree, but he is also ruthless and unforgiving. Your work is the only leverage we have, while he can threaten the life and physical well-being of us both. We have much more to lose than he does," I replied.
"If it doesn't work out, I will take full responsibility and take the punishment. That way the chance you stay safe is even higher," Akimov suggested, still not liking the idea of me meeting the soldier again.
Thankful for the self-sacrificing offer, I smiled, but shook my head again anyways. "I don't think Tarasov will hurt you instead of me even if you ask him to. You and your health are more important to him than I am, and he has no reason to harm you if he can punish you by hurting me instead, "I said. "Besides that way, we might just both get hurt if you end up being right about the soldier."
Hesitant, Akimov replied, "In my opinion, it is worth a try."
"No," I said, "putting you in danger to save me from harm that I doubt will even come is not an option for me. And even if we succeeded, I might just be forbidden to do things all together and be stuck back into a cell. It's not worth the risk."
Akimov sighed in defeat. "Alright," he said, "but let me warn you again: the winter soldier is dangerous. He is a professional killer under Hydras command, and yet he has hurt and killed Hydras medical staff and researchers before. Even if he usually acts peaceful towards Hydra members, I don't think he is of sound mind."
Then, in a pleading manner, he added, "Please, be very careful when you meet him, and always keep an eye on what he is doing."
Patting his shoulder in a friendly manner, I smiled. "I will be careful. Please don't worry too much, Doc."
He nodded and slowly sat back down, leaning back in his chair and looking at the mess of papers on the table, a bitter frown on his face. "None of this should have happened," he muttered, "and you shouldn't have gotten caught up in this because of me." He threw a glance at me and quickly looked away.
"It's not your fault, and I don't blame you," I said, setting my hands on the table to lean on it. "We will just have to try to find a way to survive and not kill anyone in the process." Looking down at the papers on the table, I added, "tell me if I can help you in any way. We are in this together now after all."
Akimov nodded once more in response, and for a moment we both looked at the table in silence. It was hard to believe that we had just been here for a few weeks. Was anyone looking for us? What was happening outside of this bunker-like thing? Did we have any chance to get out of here? I sighed. It was useless to wonder about these things now, as it wouldn't change anything about our current situation.
"Well," I said, breaking the silence, "I will go back to my work for now then." Akimov replied with another short nod and leaned towards the table again, beginning to shuffle some of the papers around to organize the mess a little. Taking my hands off the table, I stood up properly, and walked back to my room. I sat down in my chair, pondering over our current situation and what Akimov had said about the soldier. After singing for the soldier, it was easy to forget that he was a murderer. It was rather easy to see all the Hydra guards and agents as patients only when I treated them, as a job to finish. Doctors vowed to help anyone in need, no matter who they were or what they did, and seeing them only as such patients helped me a lot.
Now, it was certainly hard to forget the soldiers potential ability to break one's neck in the blink of an eye, given his impressive physique and metal arm, but the way he had acted all nervous when he asked me to sing the lullaby for him and had been understanding and patient when he had guided me to Tarasovs office... So far, every other Hydra member hadn't shown any remorse, guilt, or empathy when they did something they deemed necessary for their supposed cause. They didn't value human lives aside from their own, the only thing that mattered to them was their goal.
Every Hydra member aside from the soldier. How was the one person in this place that had shown me any consideration, him, of all people?
Then again, he had that empty stare when he was given orders, and he had shown no restraint at all when he had punched me. His behavior didn't add up. Had his acting compassionate really been genuine?
I was sure that he wouldn't harm me later, but the thought of meeting him again still gave me some mixed feelings. Would he say anything about what happened? Would he pretend it didn't happen? Did what he did even affect him at all? I tried to think of ways the upcoming encounter would go, but I simply knew him too little to make a proper guess. Looking at the clock, I asked myself how much time I had left until the appointment. Not knowing when exactly it would be did not help with staying calm.
I eventually decided that it would be best to just fill the time with work until the guard came to pick me up, to keep me and my head busy as there wasn't really anything else I could do in this damned place anyway.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. A vaguely familiar looking Hydra guy soon came in, asking me if I was ready. With a nod, I quickly saved the work I finished during the wait and got up, turning towards where the Hydra guy was standing that was watching me with crossed arms. After telling me to follow him, he turned and started walking.
Now that I was no longer busy with work, I was once again wondering how the soldier would act and if he would say anything about what happened. I felt increasingly more nervous the longer the walk dragged on. With confusion I noticed that the Hydra guy in front of me was walking surprisingly slow for someone bringing a prisoner to work. Deciding to try and get the whole thing over with quickly, I asked him to hurry up. The guy gave me a funny look from over his shoulder, then followed my request.
When we arrived, the Hydra guy stopped in front of the door and turned towards me. "I will be waiting outside here. If anything happens, scream, and I will go in and try to get you out in one piece." he said, his face dead serious.
Both very nervous and positively surprised by this safety measure, I offered a small thanks. The guy stepped aside while opening the door, letting me inside.
The soldier was sitting sideways on a treatment table and raised his head as he heard the door open. I stopped, hearing the door behind me close, as the soldier stared right at me for a moment before turning his head away to the side.
Seeing this, I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to not hear a word from the soldier at all and only getting stared at a lot. It seemed like nothing would be different from the last times I worked with him, despite what had happened. I walked over to him and on a table to the side, I found that all the necessary equipment was already prepared, saving me the time of searching through the various cabinets to the side.
I walked off to the sink in the room and properly washed my hands, deciding to just get this over with as professional and quick as possible. Taking another deep breath, I walked back to the small table with the material, sat down on the chair next to it, and put on a pair of gloves.
"You are aware that you are here to get blood samples drawn?" I addressed the soldier in a pointedly neutral tone. I started sorting the equipment to my liking, noting that there were five tubes that I was supposed to fill. It was a surprisingly normal amount of samples, considering the place I was in. On the other hand, there wasn't a crazy amount of information to gain from just blood. The researchers probably already did a whole lot of tests on him before this, so I wasn't sure what kind of new information they were hoping to find in these samples, but I also still knew nothing in particular about the experiments they conducted and couldn't really determine whether blood tests were helpful or not.
Finished with arranging the equipment, I turned towards the soldier, still waiting for an answer, just to find him still staring off to the side but holding his non-metallic arm out in my direction. Staring at it for a moment, I tried to decide if he was being quiet as usual or was acting odd, but was unable to come to a clear conclusion.
Normally I should now ask my patient if they had any allergies or sensitivities, to ensure that they can tolerate the disinfectant and the adhesive of the band aid later on. Considering the guy in front of me was superhuman, I decided that it would be pointless to ask.
Instead I continued with adjusting his arms position, picking up the tourniquet and applying it to his upper arm. I asked the soldier to clench his fist, which he did without showing any other reaction, and felt around the crease of his arm until I found a suitable vein, then quickly disinfected the area. I grabbed the needle with one hand and grabbed his lower arm with the other, drawing his skin taut. "This might sting a little," I warned him, looking up from his arm to search for any sort of reaction. The soldier merely nodded.
With a mildly annoyed sigh, I carried on and inserted the needle, now sitting in silence, watching the tube as it slowly filled up with blood. I threw a glance up at the soldier, seeing him look away in just that moment. Was that a sign that he was avoiding me? Was it a sign that he felt bad? Was it a coincidence? I didn't know what to expect when I walked in, and I still wasn't sure what the soldier was thinking. I suppose I thought that if the soldier didn't care after all, he would have that cold stare again, observing what my hands were doing while not really paying attention to me as a person, or say something about it if he did care. He was doing neither.
Noticing that the tube was full, I exchanged it with the next one, careful to keep the needle as steady as possible. Watching the soldiers blood flow into it, still in silence, I caught myself trying to compare the color to other blood I had seen. Quite obviously, I couldn't see a difference. The soldier only had his physique enhanced, he was still human. The experiments they had made on his body hadn't magically turned him into some green-blooded alien, what kind of unscientific fantasy bullshit was I thinking about?
Shaking my head at my own thoughts, I changed tubes again. With the question on whether the soldier was still human or not out of the way, I stared in silence at the tube once again. I shifted in my seat, growing more uncomfortable in the silence. Maybe it was stupid of me to hope that the soldier would address the punch, or even care in the first place. That had just been his job after all, there was probably nothing worth talking about in the soldier's perspective. He was just doing his job just as I was doing my Job now. I glanced up at him again, just to see him quickly turn away once more. I furrowed my brows. Was he really avoiding eye contact with me?
Changing to the fourth tube, I wondered why he would avoid eye contact with me. Did he feel bad after all? Was it just a coincidence? I doubted myself more and more, growing more uncomfortable while the seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes. I tried to catch him staring at me again, but he was already staring off to the wall when I looked up at him.
Even more unsure about the whole thing now, I changed to the fifth and last tube. I was glad that I would soon be out of this situation, because it was stressing me out much more than I feared it would. Feeling as though the soldier was staring me right in the face again, I impatiently waited for his blood to fill the tube. Then the feeling of him staring at me disappeared, and I instinctively looked up at him, seeing his face turned away from me, before shifting my eyes back to the tube.
"Could you sing that song again?"
Upon hearing him talk, my head shot back up instantly. He still wasn't looking at me, much like the first time he asked me to sing it. Was that the reason why he had been avoiding eye contact with me? An icy feeling of disappointment settled in my stomach, and without giving it a second thought, I replied with a sharp "No." I saw the soldier turn his head away from me even further, then focused my view back on the tube that was still filling up. Did he turn his head farther away out of annoyance over my answer? I clenched my jaw, annoyed with myself for hoping for something else than this.
I could see him turn his head towards me again within the edge of my view and heard him breathe in. "Where do you know the song from?" the soldier asked. With an image of my smiling grandmother passing through my mind, I glowered at him, our eyes locked.
"That's none of your business." I answered, and he shifted his eyes down to the floor, away from mine. After staring at him a few more seconds, I glanced down at the tube again, seeing that it was almost full now. With a relieved sigh, I undid the tourniquet on the soldier's arm, then detached the filled tube from the needle. I quickly grabbed a gauze pad from the small table, pulled out the needle and then pressed down on the spot with the gauze pad. "Press this down on your arm," I ordered the soldier with a distant tone, who quickly complied.
I turned to stuff away the used equipment and bagged the blood samples, then turned back to the soldier, putting my hand back on the gauze. "You can remove your hand now," I stated. Accompanied with a quiet mechanical buzz, the soldier moved his hand away, giving me the space I needed to replace the gauze with a bandage. "You can remove this in about half an hour," I informed him, looking down at his arm rather than looking at him, then added, "or maybe in ten minutes, since it's you. I don't bloody know."
I turned back to the table and briskly took off my gloves when I heard the soldier talk again. "Sorry," he said softly. I hesitated. I glanced at him over my shoulder. He didn't look away this time. Unsure if he was being serious, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, fumbling with the gloves in my hand. "There is nothing to apologize for. You just did your job, as I am doing mine right now," I replied. I threw the gloves in the trash.
"That doesn't change that I hurt you," the soldier tried again. I peeked at him from the corners of my eyes, seeing that he was still staring straight at me. He seemed rather earnest, but seeing his metal arm, I couldn't stop myself from doubting him. It didn't make much sense that a Hydra member would care after all.
"It's fine. It was just an order after all," I tried to deflect his apology again, setting my hands down on the small table in front of me. The table was made from steel, and my blurred reflection stared back at me as I looked down on it.
"Yes, it was an order. I had to follow it," the soldier said, "but I really didn't want to. I am sorry for hurting you." I contemplated his words for a moment, then turned around to face him. He still had his eyes fixed on me, but then scrunched his eyebrows together and lowered his head. The idea that he felt guilty when he saw the bruises on my face crossed my mind, but was instantly replaced by an image of the cold stare he had had back then.
"Is that so?" I said, a sarcastic smile on my face as the soldier raised his head at me. "My nose would beg to differ." I crossed my arms in a challenging manner, waiting for an explanation.
The soldier diverted his eyes. "I have to obey my orders even if I don't like them," he said, clasping his hands together. I frowned, unsatisfied with this explanation.
"I know that. I have to obey my orders as well if I don't want to get into trouble. That's not my point. My point is that you hit me rather hard for supposedly not wanting to," I clarified.
With hesitation, the soldier answered, "well... my order was to give you a good punch. So in order to obey my order, I had to punch you hard." I narrowed my eyes on him. Was this the best explanation he could give? He really hadn't seemed to care when he did it, even if he didn't exactly look happy after punching me.
"Well, he didn't order you to break my nose, did he?" I asked. The soldier's eyes started darting around the room as he was trying to find something to say in response. I sighed. "Look, I get that you also would have to face consequences if you didn't do your job, but you could have at least... hesitated maybe, or not broken my nose. It's hard to believe that you are sorry when you followed your orders so... excessively."
The soldier ran a hand through his hair, his mouth opening and closing twice before he replied. "I can't... When I get an order, I have no choice but to follow-"
"I already said that I understand that." I interrupted him.
He shuffled restless in his chair. "Yes, I said that before, but it's- it's not that easy. When I get an order, I can't... I have no choice in the matter. If I get an order, I have to follow it," he tried to explain.
Placing my hands on my hip, I huffed. "Everyone has a choice. Even if you have to follow Tarasovs orders, you can still choose how. There are more ways to obey an order than one. Like.. using your other arm. Or avoiding breaking my nose. Or punching me somewhere else or just... just hesitating." I wanted to believe him, but the image of his empty stare that day kept haunting me and the details of how it had happened were not working in his favor either.
"It's... I can't...," the soldier started to protest again, before falling silent. His eyes fixated on a random spot on the wall and furrowed his brows, remaining silent.
After a few moments, I grew impatient. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the small table. Grabbing the samples, I said, "I need to go deliver these while they are still fresh."
Upon hearing my voice, the soldier blinked and reached out with his arm, grabbing my wrist. I clenched my fist and stood up straighter when I felt his warm hand around my wrist, feeling my heart beating harder in my chest. Glaring at him, I took a step back, pulling my wrist towards myself. As the soldier raised his eyes and met mine, he immediately let go. "Sorry, I-" he paused, then said, "I get why you are upset. Thank you for listening."
I took another, slightly uncertain step back, relaxing my posture. After watching him, I gave him a nod. "Sure," I replied. More to himself than me, the soldier nodded as well. His acceptance of the situation caught me off guard and, once again, I was unsure how to react. "Alright. Then... goodbye for now, I guess." I said awkwardly, and took another step back. With another nod, this time directed at me, he focused on the bandage I had put on him, while I slowly turned to leave.
I heard the soldier get up behind me, and my heartbeat quickened as his steps quickly came closer. I had to fight the urge to look back at him or walk faster, and I half expected him to grab my arm and stop me again, but instead he walked right past me to the door. I stopped some distance away to let him open the door and leave first, but when he opened the door, he stepped aside and looked back at me. I blinked at him, wondering why he was just standing there, until it clicked and I understood that he was holding the door open for me. A little embarrassed, I mumbled a "thanks" when I passed him and walked through the door.
Outside I was greeted by the guard, who examined me quickly before asking, "finished?".
"Yes," I replied with a nod. Besides me, the soldier stepped out of the room and closed the door behind us. I saw him giving the guard the same once-over the guard had just given me, before meeting my eyes. Then, after holding eye contact for an odd second, he walked away with long strides.
Both the guard and I watched after him momentarily. Then, facing me, the guard said, "we should get going as well, I'm sure Doctor Fedorov is already waiting for the samples."
"Right," I replied, not missing the strange look he was giving me before he turned around to lead me away again. I didn't blame the guard for his confusion. The soldier had not only apologized to me, but also respected my rejection of it and then went out of his way holding the door open for me anyway. How the hell was THE soldier, the best recruit of an organization that killed and abducted people as they wished, acting more like a gentleman than any other person roughly my age that I met before being kidnapped?
Running a hand through my hair, I felt a pang of guilt for not accepting his apology. I was rather sure that he had been sincere now.
...Then I walked into the back of the guard before me. who had suddenly stopped walking. Feeling a small wave of pain run through my nose, I stepped back, mumbling a short "sorry". While I watched a few people push seemingly heavy medical equipment into a room in front of us, I shook my head at myself. Accepting and believing in the apology of someone who physically attacked you was the 101 of how to get into an abusive relationship. While that certainly didn't fit my situation perfectly, it was arguably even dumber to trust anyone here, and solely because they hold a door open for you at that.
The guard in front of me resumed walking, and I noticed that the people that had blocked our way were gone. Carefully checking with my hand if my nose was alright, I proceeded to follow the guard, all the while trying to not ponder too much about the soldiers behavior and failing.
In the evening, long after passing on the samples, with the soldier continuing to haunt my mind during the rest of the day, I let out a defeated sigh. There was no way around it.
I had to acknowledge that, against my better judgment, I believed that the soldier had been sincere.
There had to be something else involved with his cold stare.
Something... just felt off.