Chapter Text
"Special Ops to command centre. We're closing in on the collision site. Wilson and Torres flying over." Torres reported into the comms while Sam got his chute ready.
They were following up on kind of a weird report. Heavy weaponry was being fired in this area. None identified themselves as U.S military or authorized weapon testing, so they got sent to check it out.
The last thing they heard is that two aircrafts were involved, they collided and both went down. Time to see if anyone's still living down there. Whomever they might be.
The air blasted over him as he stood right at the crest of the open door. Torres called over his shoulder from the pilots chair. "See anything?"
"Two balls of fire." Sam grimaced. From their height, they could see the two smoldering wreckages of some sort of large aircraft and a smaller plane. His job at this point, was to check for survivors and any identification of the aircrafts, if possible. He stood up, tugging on the straps of his chute to tighten them. "Wilson jumping in ten." He spoke into the comms, Joaquín called over his shoulder again.
"Want me to do some laps while you check it out?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah. Get yourself out of the airspace in case someone comes looking for these two. Keep your comms on. I'll let you know what I find." With that, he simply let himself get taken by the rushing wind, falling through the air, picking up speed. Below them was a mountain range and pretty thick tree cover. There was a clearing not far from the crash sites, so he'd aim for there. He spun around in the air as he got the affirmative from Torres and watched the plane turn and go back in the direction they came from.
It's for the best. If these people had illegal gun ships or they were foreign agents or something, he didn't want Joaquín flying a U.S airforce plane within shooting distance.
Reaching back, he pulled the cord and his body was yanked back up. Floating down, he had more time to scan over the area. Though he didn't see anything of note, besides from a skinny river a few hundred yards from the crash, leading off into the distance. He pulled the handles to steer himself away from the plume of smoke so he didn't float right through it.
Landing right in the middle of the clearing, Sam bundled up his parachute and left it by the edge of the clearing. The chutes are usually just discarded in combat but they'll take them back to base if possible.
The smell of burning metal, smoke hanging in the air. Sam pulled his neck gaiter over his nose and mouth, making his way to the crash site through the thick woods. It's the middle of the rainy season so there's no concerns about the fires spreading. The wet wood and damp earth will extinguish the flames. It's just the leaves and fuel from the air crafts that are burning right now.
He came across the smaller plane first, it wasnt too far away from the big one. From the looks of it, the smaller plane crashed into the carrier, causing the large vessel to eventually crash. A big vessel like that was built to take damage and stay airborne long enough to safely land. Didn't seem to turn out that way.
It was a single person flyer. No one on board. The top was open and the ejector had been activated. There was nothing inside. He moved onto the big one that took down a dozen trees with it.
He kept his distance from the larger carrier while he examined it. The fuel reserves and engine have already exploded given the state of the wreckage, so all he had to do was brave some fire to check for anything identifiable. Even as he was looking it over, the flames dulled to a smolder. Upon getting close, he recognized it as an A400m Atlas. Less than half the size of a commercial airplane but still big. It's a transport vehicle, usually carrying smaller vehicles like jeeps or helicopters. Didn't seem to have anything but people on board. The most important piece of information here, is that this aircraft is used primarily by the German air force.
A German air force transport vessel was shot down in American Air space by a currently unknown smaller aircraft. Messy.
The thing had been torn apart. Literally. Some of the damage didn't look like an explosion had caused it. The only way he could describe it was like it had been ripped open. There was one spot in particular, directly on top through the roof, where the metal bent inwards. Like punching your fingers through the foil on a jar of Nutella.
He stepped up experimentally onto the floor platform of the wreckage. The loading bay was open and he could walk right in. There were eight men inside. All deceased but only a few were caught in the fire. A crash like this, of course there were no survivors. But looking around, seeing remnants of blood splatter son the walls of the craft, Sam got a feeling in his gut to look closer.
He picked a random body and gave them a once over. Once he saw the very clear cause of death, Sam was forced to reassess his first impression of what had gone down here. He had been shot under his jaw with a pistol, the bullet coming right out the top of his head. He checked the next man, shot in the left leg and the chest, next man, strangled, next man, neck broken, but bruising around the neck suggests it was inflicted by a person, not the crash. All of them, with the exception of the pilot, had been killed before the crash.
"What the hell..." Barely whispering to himself, taking a closer look at the dull grey bruising on the corpse. Sam reported what he'd found so far into his comms. None of them had weapons matching the one that did all this damage. His mind dragged back to the strangulation victim. His neck was crushed. But there was clear finger bruising. Someone has one hell of a grip.
As to how this carrier came down. The Atlas is built sturdy. If you're gonna crash, you'd hope it was in something like this. Someone made sure everyone on board died anyway.
He checked for signs that one of these dead men has attacked the others but only a few of them had defensive wounds. The rest were killed by surprise.
Sam's ear picked up the sound of coughing. It sounded muffled. Like someone was trying to cough quietly. Sam followed the noise a little off from the atlas crash. His eyes widened at the sight of movement. A person, writhing on the ground, dragging themselves from the wreckage. It was a man and he was pulling at a mask covering half his face. Even from the distance Sam could see his eyes threatening to roll back, to pass out, but there was a franticness to his movements. The desperation of an injured man.
Sam wasted no time running over. Pulling his mask down back around his neck. "Hey! Hold up man, hold still. Lemme-" as soon as he crouched next to him, the mans eyes laser focused in on his face. Like he no longer had any injuries, with lightning speed, grabbed Sam's wrist in a dead lock grip.
Sam hissed at the instant pressure making his hand seize but he stayed calm.
This was normal. Sam was used to this as a pararescue. Soldiers are on high alert at all times. Sometimes it takes them a few minutes to realize someone is helping them and not trying to kill them. Sam held up his other hand in surrender, keeping still but making sure to exude a comforting level of confidence. "Alright, that's cool. No touching. Sorry I spooked ya'." He gave the man another look now he was closer. Besides from the awfully nasty glare he was currently giving Sam, he was trembling. Likely from the several deep wounds on his body. The guy's covered in blood, Sam can clearly see it seeping through his clothes, even though he's in all black. The wet patches are fairly obvious.
The grip did not let up at all. If anything he squeezed tighter. It was then when Sam clocked in on this guy's hand that was holding his wrist. He was wearing some kinda... gauntlet? It made his whole arm look like it was made out of metal.
Looking back to his face, Sam slowly put the palm of his free hand flat to his own chest. The injured man followed his movements like he was trying to predict what Sam might do next.
"I'm Sam Wilson. I'm a PJ Special Ops. I can take a look at you if you let me." He spoke clear and concise, nodded down to the mans injuries.
He wasn't even sure if this guy spoke English but he'd try it anyway. He had a few other languages under his belt. Spanish, Arabic, a little bit of Russian. Probably not enough if that's all this guy speaks. "I just wanna help you. If you let me patch you up, you can go on your way."
Something in the man's glare settled. Okay so he maybe speaks English. Sam's eyes drifted down to the mask over his face. There were pink and red scratches cresting the edge of the mask on his cheeks, neck and the side of his face. Like he'd been trying to tear the mask off his face with no success.
"Want some help with that?" Sam pointed to the mask. The man's eyes stared into him like he wasn't sure what Sam wanted. Regardless, his hand released Sam's wrist and he resisted the urge to wince and rub the now very sore spot.
He didn't nod but Sam took the release as a yes, nodding slowly as he tried to move behind him to see the back of his head and the metal hand latched right back onto his wrist.
Sam flinched, raising his other hand in surrender again. "Don't want me behind you. Totally valid." He sighed, crouching back down in front of him. Sam wondered if his face was getting sore from all the scowling he's doing or if he was used to it.
Sam slowly reached his hands under his ears, around the back of his head and slowly felt around for a clasp or a buckle, something that was keeping this mask fastened so tightly to this guy's face. Gently grazing his fingertips over the back of his skull, through his hair until he found what felt like it might be a clip fastener. It was small and fiddly. He needed two hands. No wonder this guy couldn't get it off with his big metal glove.
He was in that crash so Sam wasn't gonna judge him for how clearly he was thinking. He's probably still running purely on adrenaline. Even now he was just staring at Sam, scanning over his face while he sat perfectly still, tense under Sam's hands.
With some effort, he got his fingers under the clasp and undid them, slowly pulling the mask off. He pulled gently since it was clear, especially on the sides of his head, that it had been done up tight enough to cut into him.
Once the mask was off, the man pulled his head back and gasped, coughing now his mouth was unobstructed. He fell back onto the ground and hissed, grabbing his side, still mid coughing fit.
"I gotcha man. C'mere." He gently reached down, helping him roll onto his less injured side. A hand snapped up and grabbed at his arm, holding it tightly in a way that may have been threatening if he wasn't currently gasping for air. Sam glanced at the inside of the mask. It wasn't molded to the shape of his face, it had metal slats inside where his mouth would sit. His heart stopped and a chill ran down his spine.
Sam stared down at the man in the ground. When his heart started beating again, it picked up, faster and faster until it was hammering against his ribcage.
Was this a muzzle?
The mask slid from his hand and dropped into the dirt beside him. The man was still coughing, his body lurching as he gasped for air, only to force it out again. He released Sam again, only to brace himself against the ground as his cough turned to a dry heave, color draining from his face.
Sam took the opportunity to take a look at his condition. There was a deep gash just under his ribs. It wasn't gushing blood but it also wasn't just bleeding a little. He wasn't even sure if that was the worst of it.
There was blood matting his hair on the back of his head, so Sam might be dealing with a concussion.
Sam took a deep, centering breath. He needed to move quickly. Fix this guy's side up and his several other injuries. Burns from the crash and god knows how much else.
The man caught his breath, chest heaving and tried to push himself upright again. Sam took a risk and set a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.
"Okay what we aren't gonna do, is move around too much and make this worse." That got him another glare. "Yeah, yeah buddy, wrap it up."
Sam helped him sit up slowly and the man pushed his hair back off his face. The lower face of his face now the only part of his body clean from ash and blood. Unsure if there was a language barrier or not, Sam pulled his bag off his back and pointed to the medics cross. "See? I'm helping you. You're injured and I'm helping you. We on the same page?" He watched for a reaction and thankfully, he seemed to understand. He stared at the cross before raising his head to meet Sam's eyes, blank expression replacing the previous untrusting glare.
Sam's shoulders dropped as he sighed. "Can I help you up?" They needed to get somewhere clean adjacent to patch him up. He recalled the river he spotted on the way down. That'll have to do. The man was suddenly much more cooperative, allowing Sam to help him stand.
Helping him to his feet and ducking under his arm, Sam wrapped an arm around him. The man leaned on him, stumbling the moment he was on his feet. Sam kept them both steady. "I gotcha. Walk this way." He was walking pretty steadily, so his legs must have avoided injury. However, the blood loss must be at least moderate by this point, so he's probably dizzy, lightheaded, maybe nauseous. Sam kept a tight hold on him.
He looked ahead, watching the trees thin the closer to the river they got, replaced by bushes and plants that thrived on being so close to water. "So!" He adjusted his grip on the man's wrist and waist as they walked. "You got a name?"
In the quiet of the forest, the creaking sounds of the wreckage being a bit behind them now, Sam could hear him take a deep, shaky breath. He shook his head.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "No? You don't wanna tell me, or you don't have a name?"
The man's eyes twitched, shaking his head again. something in his eyes said his mind was far away from him. He stared at nothing. Sam remembered the muzzle and something twisted in his gut.
He let out a small chuckle, smiling in a way he hoped was comforting. "Well that can't be right. You gotta have a name. What am I supposed to call you?"
The man raised his head and locked eyes with Sam for a moment. It was hard to miss the way his eyes seemed to glaze over, going out of focus.
"...Soldat..." He finally spoke, his voice gruff. Hoarse and unused.
Sam quirked an eyebrow up. "Sol..." He paused. "That's Russian for soldier."
The man didn't say anything.
Sam readjusted his hold on him again, preparing to start walking again. "You want me to call you Soldier?"
The man didn't say anything. He stared off behind Sam. His eyes not focused on anything.
Sam sighed, deep from his chest. He seemed to understand English. Whether or not he spoke it remained it be seen. Sam gave his waist a firm pat. "Alright then Soldier. Let's get you sorted."
--
MEDICAL PERSONNEL IDENTIFIED--
MEDICAL PERSONNEL IS VITAL TO THE CONTINUED USE OF THE ASSET.
THE ASSET MUST COMPLY WITH THE REQUESTS OF THE MEDICAL PERSONNEL
NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL - PROTECT AT ALL COST.
--
The gentle sound of water trickling down stream hit his ears. It was more of a creek than a river. The rocks clearly visible in the shallow water they could easily walk through if they wanted to. Sam was just here for the flat, soft earth and access to water in case what he had on his person wasn't enough.
Sam stopped beside a thick tree trunk. "Can you lean here for a second? Gonna find some flat-ish ground." Soldier braced himself against the tree while Sam found a good spot. He kicked rocks out of the way and looked out for tree roots poking out of the earth. He tried to ignore the way Soldier watched his every move. Less scrutinizing more... watchful. Keeping an eye on him like a parent with their kid at the pool.
He opened his pack, pulling out one of the shock blankets and laying the thin reflective material down. Not really for comfort. It won't act as much more than a barrier to dirt, but it'll be warm.
Sam walked back over to him, taking his arm. "Aight. Down ya go bud." With a groan of effort, he laid Soldier down onto the shock blanket. He was breathing heavily again, his face and body tense like he was forcing himself to stay awake.
Sam put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Just relax. Can't sew you up if you're flexing every muscle you have." He wet the cloth with water from his canister and lightly dabbed at a burn on his face, gently washing away the dirt caked onto the raw skin.
Despite his initially grumpy demeanor, it seemed like once Soldier was certain Sam was helping him, he was totally compliant. Doing whatever Sam said with a nearly scary level of obedience. Sam wished all his patients were so well behaved. Every instruction obeyed immediately. Relax, keep still, lift his arms, take off his shirt--
Sam froze. Now his chest was bare, Sam's eyes zeroed in on Soldier's left shoulder. A massive amount of scarring and the "gauntlet", which as it turns out, was not a gauntlet at all.
"What the..." Sam gently touched where the metal met his skin. That's his arm. He has a metal arm. Sam caught onto the fact his mouth was hanging open and he snapped it closed, pressing his lips together. He's never seen a prosthetic this advanced. Soldier can move it so naturally that Sam thought it was a real, flesh and blood arm. He recalled how strong the grip was. What's this guy doing with a state-of-the-art prosthetic arm? Sam frowned at the scarring. Signs of repetitive surgeries marred his skin. Sam reached down and experimentally lifted the forearm. It was hefty. Much heavier than a normal arm. His frown deepend.
His mind was brought back to the injuries the men in the carrier had. The hand grip that crushed their necks. He absentmindedly touched his wrist that was already bruising from the grip Soldier had on it earlier. Finger shaped bruises that matched the corpses. Sam's heart started to thunder in his chest. Did Soldier kill all of those men? Sam should call the Command Centre. Report this and Soldier to his higher ups...
Sam's eyes drifted up to meet Soldier's. He was just looking at him. No longer glaring. Like he was waiting. Sam ignored the intrusive thoughts that it was like when a dog was told to sit, waiting for a new order. Sam felt a deep concern rise in his chest so inexplicably despite the fear he was feeling moments before.
Steeling himself, he came to the conclusion he wasn't in any danger. For now. He couldn't explain it. There was something about Soldier that was so calm and placid in this moment. Sam could convince himself he wasn't capable of hurting anyone. He brushed off his feelings and returned his attention to Soldiers many wounds. One thing at a time Sam.
He used a cloth to clean the dirt, soot and dried blood from around the wounds as best as he could and opened up his USAF alice pack. Had all the medical supplies necessary to do emergency surgery on the field. He had plenty to fix up one soldier. "Okay. I'm gonna stitch you up. This is gonna take some time. Definitely gonna be uncomfortable." He doesn't know why he expected some kind of response. Some acknowledgment that he was about to start sticking a needle into him over and over. Soldier just lay there.
Sam asked him if he was ok with numbing cream, slightly stronger than what you'd get at a tattoo parlor, or if he'd be more comfortable with something more effective. Soldiers expression shifted just barely. He looked at Sam with a hint of confusion. Like the idea of pain relief was foreign to him. He had been fully prepared for Sam to dive right in.
He didn't want to inject a general anesthesia in case he had an adverse reaction to it. He didn't trust Soldier knew or was going to share his medical records. He took a deep breath and started off slowly, watching for any signs of discomfort.
Soldier just watched him the entire time. Even when the antiseptic came in to play, the stinging of the chemical coming into contact with the open wound. He was completely silent and still. Sam smiled uneasily, prepping the next stitch. "High pain tolerance huh?"
Soldier didn't say anything.
Sam nodded to himself, about two thirds through the stitches, figuring he'd try to get a conversation started again.
"Well someone's clearly trained you well. You get severely injured a lot I take it?" He grinned through his joke and the soldier continued to stare. Sam's smile faded, scissors snipping at the second to last stitch, closing up the gash under his ribs.
Sam finished up, sealing the skin with one final stitch and unraveled some gauze. "Could you lift yourself up a little? Just gotta get under you."
Soldier did, pushing his elbows into the ground and arching his back enough for Sam to wrap the gauze around him. One down. He got to work cleaning up the more superficial wounds. The minor burns, the cuts and scrapes. Soldier just lay there silently the whole time. Not once complaining.
Sam cleared his throat to relieve the awkwardness he felt. He immediately acts on instructions but he doesn't respond to small talk at all. The only regular question that got a different reaction out of him was asking for his name.
Alright. Next. He sat himself by Soldiers head, gently feeling around for the source of the blood. "Could ya' sit up a little?" He maneuvered his backpack for Soldier to lean on, so Sam could clean the blood out of his hair to find the wound. Thankfully, it wasn't a big. Head wounds just bleed a lot. Half a dozen stitches later, he lay Soldier back down.
Sam gave his arm a pat. "Nicely done. The worst of it is over." He smiled warmly and Soldier blinked at him, his expression no different from when Sam was piercing his skin with a needle. Though he was breathing a little slower.
He spent some time cleaning Soldier up, getting the blood and dirt away from his eyes, wiping it away gently with the wet cloth. Sam almost chuckled when the grime had been cleaned away, revealing this mans incredibly pretty face. He wasn't expecting those handsome facial features under all that.
Sam took one final look over him for the sake of verification. He almost didn't give his legs a second glance because of how easily he had walked before, until he noticed a few holes in his pants. Two were just grazes, likely from the crash but one was a clean, round hole that went directly through the front of his leg. Sam frowned and checked the back of his leg. No exit wound. Great.
Sam scratched his forehead with the backs of his knuckles before letting his arm flop back onto his own bent knee. "You were shot." Sam stated plainly.
Soldier didn't say anything, just kept staring stoically.
Sam shook his head "How in the hell were you walking?" There's a whole-ass bullet lodged in his thigh, right above his knee. The fact that he can put any pressure on it at all is astounding. Sam wouldn't have known it was worse than a sprained ankle if he hadn't checked.
Soldiers voice surprised him. Flat and monotonous. "You told me to." English. Clear, American english. No accent or anything.
Sam didn't know how to respond to that. Sam's fingers twitched at his leg, that uncomfortable feeling creeping up on him again. "What do you mean?"
The response came immediately. Clear and concise. "My directive states I comply completely with medical personnel."
It was the most Soldier had spoken and it only made Sam more confused. He couldn't help the way his face screwed up. "Directive? You need a directive to listen to your doctor?"
Soldier didn't say anything.
Sam huffed out his nose. "Right. Well..." He unzipped the secondary part of his med pack containing the more intricate, also sharper equipment. "We're gonna need to get that out of you. Sooner rather than later." Usually he'd give the patient a break for their body to relax after one stitch job but if he'd known about the bullet wound, he would have started with that.
Similar to a tattoo session that goes on for too long. The body can start to reject the constant intrusions and swell, rejecting the ink. In this case, the stitches. So Sam didn't wanna push it because he'd have to take them out, wait and then do it again. Which is traumatic, unnecessary and avoidable.
He sighed, standing up, eyes on him still. Sam needed a break to stretch his legs anyway. It was just gonna have to be a short one. He could take some time to boil some more water. "I'm gonna make a call. Stay put."
Sam got up, grabbed his bag and walked towards the creek. He looked back to where Soldier was. He couldn't see him clearly but Sam just knew he was staring at the sky. Not relaxing, just... stationary. He realized he hadn't updated anyone since finding Soldier. He wasn't even sure how to report it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to just yet. Something in the back of Sam's head was blaring an alarm siren for an emergency he hadn't figured out yet.
He settled for getting into contact with Torres directly on a private line, it's been around an hour, give or take. Joaquín would be expecting an update by now. He clicked on his comms.
"Hey, Torres. You still in the air?"
His reply came immediately. "Nope! Landed a little while west. You need me?"
Sam glanced back over at Soldier. Speaking slowly, unsure of his own answer. "...Maybe."
Chipper as ever, Joaquín popped his lips. "Well that was super suspicious."
Sam groaned, rubbing his face. "I don't even know where to start man." He walked further down the river bank, stretching out his legs.
"How bout whatever happened after you got to the crash?" Joaquin offered, sounding like he was trying to be helpful more than pry for answers.
Sighing, Sam sat down on one of the larger rocks bordering the creek, watching the water run over the river bed. "I found a guy. He's..." Sam groaned, glancing over his shoulder. "He's not right Torres."
Suddenly Joaquín's voice was laced with concern. "Are you alright? You need backup?"
Sam shook his head despite the lack of a visual element to their conversation. "No, not like that. There's something wrong with him." He paused, inhaling before breaking the more pressing news. "I'm also pretty certain he caused the crash somehow."
Joaquín dragged out his words to emphasize his disbelief. "How can one guy do all that?"
Sam didn't have proof but there was definitely more to this. "Just call it a hunch." He reached into his pack and pulled out his storm kettle, filling it with river water. While they chatted, Sam got a small fire going to boil the water. He'd used all of his supply to clean Soldier. He must be parched. He filtered the water into his canteen then poured it back into the kettle.
Joaquín's voice came in a little more panicked than usual. "Wait. Are you safe with him? I'm coming now."
Sam didn't object to it but he did his best to dissuade the concern. "Weirdly enough? Yeah I think I am. He's just...doing everything I say."
He could hear Torres stop dead in his tracks. "What do you mean?"
Sam rubbed his palm over his thigh, brimming with nervous energy. "I mean exactly that, man. There was a little bit of resistance when I found him but now he's just completely compliant. Then he looks at me like he's waiting for me to tell him to do something else."
The silence dragged on until Torres eventually spoke again. "...okay weird."
"Yeah it's fucking weird." Sam hissed. He's used to the people he patches up talking to him at least a little. Even if it's just to say ouch. "It's not even the weirdest part. He was wearing a damn muzzle. He couldn't get it off on his own." Sam couldn't shake the feeling this guy was in trouble somehow. Yes, the guy who took down an aircraft, is the one who's in danger. He couldn't explain it if he tried. "Then when he did speak, he spoke Russian. Then, he's speaking perfect English telling me about his 'directive'."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Haven't even mentioned the metal arm."
"What!? ...wait a sec..." Torres trailed off and Sam tilted his head like it helped him hear his comms better.
"What is it?"
Torres took a few seconds to reply. "A buddy of mine works in USSS. He knows I love the crazy shit, so for my birthday he tells me one state secret."
"Can't he go to prison for that?"
"He's a really good friend."
Sam closed his eyes. "Go on."
"Right, anyway. He told me about these insane assassinations on military officials all over the world. Some political figures too. Super efficient. Whoever was doing it never got caught because anyone around the target also got killed. No one ever lived to tell anyone about it." He could hear Torres rummaging around in the cock pit as he spoke. Preparing to take off.
"They thought it must be some kind of super coordinated gang because of the number of casualties. But eventually they discovered it was just one guy. One guy with a metal arm." He hung onto the final words like a reveal Sam would be excited to hear about.
"The weird part is they span over years. At least ten from what they can confirm. One or two of these assassinations, then it won't happen again for a couple years. But they think the same guy is responsible for all of them."
Sam processed that story, then thought about the obedient man laying not far away. "...There's no way."
He could envision Joaquín with his arms thrown out to the side. "How many people have metal arms dude?"
Sam still felt so defensive, perhaps against all common sense. But he did. When he didn't reply, Joaquín spoke up again.
"I'll be there as soon as I find a good place to land. Don't get assassinated."
The comms clicked off and Sam stayed where he was for a few minutes, staring at the creek. He scooped up the kettle, stomping out the fire and cooled the kettle down in the river, before making his way back to their makeshift camp. Just as expected, Soldier hadn't moved an inch. Sam couldn't prove that he didn't blink but he'd bet money it wasn't often, if at all.
Sam clicked his tongue, deciding to use this weird situation for good. "Sit up a little." Sam instructed as he crouched beside him, pouring the contents of the kettle into his canteen. He held an arm out, ready to put it behind Soldier to help him out, since the stitches would make it uncomfortable to sit completely upright. Soldier did. Pushing himself up until Sam told him to stop. Sam held his canteen to Soldiers lips, his other arm around him. "Drink up."
Noticably, Soldier didn't grab the canteen and do it himself. Instead he just opened his mouth. Sam slowly, gently pressed the rim to his lips and tipped. Soldier gulped it down before Sam could ease back to let him breathe.
Sam kept his inner reaction to himself. He was thirsty he just didn't say anything. Meaning he was likely in pain, he just wasn't saying anything. He could also be feeling any number of negative things but he's Just. Not. Saying. Anything.
But why? Why would he pretend he's fine? Why would he force this complete obedience even though he's suffering?
Soldier lightly gasped as Sam pulled the canteen away, gulping a now, no doubt, far less dry throat. Sam set it down. "Good. Lay back down. Let's get this done." He held up a finger and pointed down rather ungracefully. "Gonna have to take those off so I can actually get to the bullet hole."
Instantly, Soldiers hands were at his belt and the front of his pants, undoing them before Sam could protest. "Hold up man. Let's get the boots off first huh?" Sam moved down his body and undid the laces and the buckles, grabbing the bottom and back and levering them off. He did the same with the other boot and put them at the base of the tree beside them.
He moved back to crouch beside his torso "As long as you don't mind the bonding exercise. It'll be easier on you if I help." Sam had his most professional medical persona firmly in place. Didn't need him popping stitches.
Soldier didn't say anything. But he did lean back, looking up at him expectantly. That was the most permission Sam was ever going to get.
Hooking his fingers under the waistband, Sam tugged the blood soaked trousers down his legs, being careful around where the blood had dried, sticking the fabric to his skin. He got them over his feet, folded them and put them with the rest of his clothes.
Sam didn't bother asking this time. He gave Soldier a small dose anesthesia directly to his leg to numb the pain before he went digging around inside it. "Alright. You gotta stay as still as you can, okay? This is gonna suck." He gave his other leg a comforting pat. Soldier said nothing. Big surprise. He strapped a tourniquet from his pack around Soldiers upper thigh, snapped on a new pair of rubber gloves and got to work.
Soldier did as he was told. He stayed perfectly still. The lack of a reaction was worse somehow. It was so deeply unnerving that it was more of a distraction to Sam than if he was flinching and yelping in pain. Soldier didn't move at all. Not a twitch. Not even when Sam's forceps were three inches deep in his thigh. He kept asking if Soldier was alright. If not only to break the haunting silence that made Sam nervous.
The bullet made a dull, thunk sound on the shock blanket. Sighing, feeling like he was the one who'd just been operated on, Sam hung his head. Thankfully it was all in one piece. Soldier glanced at the bullet for a second before going back to looking at Sam. Sam gave him a nod "Good work." He forced words that weren't as overwhelmed as he felt.
The whole situation was so unusual, Sam didn't even notice the lack of blood gushing from the wound. There was some, but definitely not as much as he would have expected. Sam's removed his fair share of bullets from just about every body part that a bullet could get lodged in and he's never seen such little blood.
Why complain about a blessing right? He now has a choice to make. Spend the next few hours doing surgery to repair the muscle tissue or just pack it until he can get Soldier to a hospital. He decided on option two. He could always change his mind but a break from kneeling on the ground and leaning over would be nice.
He packed the wound to another unnerving bout of silence and exhaled. "Alright. Why don't you close your eyes for a while and get some rest? I'm gonna clean up."
This was the first thing Soldier didn't immediately comply with. He just looked at Sam like he didn't understand the order. The same look he gave him when Sam offered the pain relief. That same feeling in his gut crept up on him. That maybe he doesn't understand requests of comfort because he's never heard them before.
Sam was trying to not get frustrated. All while feeling conflicted at treating this man like a dog. "Sleep, Soldier. You need the rest."
Blank expression. Sam tiredly grabbed at his pack, snatching up the secondary shock blanket, unrolling it and tossing it over Soldier like he was tucking him in. He then took off his jacket and bundled it up into a vague pillow shape, lifting Soldiers head and tucking it underneath. The man watched him with unblinking eyes.
Sam crouched down by his head, lightly making a karate chopping motion towards Soldiers chest. "Sleep. Turn off, at ease soldier, deactivate. Is any of this working? I ain't gonna sing you a lullaby."
He seemed to respond to "at ease." But that didn't compel him to sleep, he just kinda lay there looking aimless and despondent.
A familiar feeling rose in him and from there, the action was automatic. He was brought back to getting his nephews to calm down and how he would put his hand on their heads and pet them until they fell asleep. Sam's hand was already on Soldier's head by the time he caught up with why he did it.
Soldier was scanning his face now, irises picking a new spot on Sam's face to focus on, then switching to another. He took a deep breath as soon as Sam's hand stroked over the top of his head.
Rubbing his thumb over where his hair met his forehead, Sam started a slow rhythm, scratching his fingertips over the top of his head. He kept his voice low and calm. "Close your eyes."
Soldier sighed. A sweet sound of relief. Blinking his eyes closed slowly. Resting a hand on his chest, Sam mirrored his movements on his other hand, running his fingers over the part of Soldiers chest peeking out from above the blanket. Sam sat there, repeating the action, scanning over Soldiers resting face. He couldn't understand this situation. The guy acts like a robot. Sam worried that maybe he was acting against his will with the carrier collision. He just doesn't seem like a violent person. But then again, he's clean shaven, his hair looks like it had been washed at least semi recently, his teeth are white and well cared for. Hell, his chest has been shaved. It all screams a man who knew what he was doing and was well prepared for it. Yet Sam couldn't shake the feeling something was terribly wrong.
His eyes fell to the rest of Soldiers body and he peeled back the shock blanket just a little. He was covered in scars. All of which Sam could identify from the various weapons. Shotgun shells to rifle rounds. This guy jas been through it. Sam was really trying not to jump to conclusions but his chest was tightening the more he allowed himself to ponder what was going on here.
Finally. Sam heard the soft snoring. He could have cheered. Now, he desperately needed a bath. He wasn't gonna have any luck here but thank god there was water because Sam had strung out nerves that would kill a bird.
He gave Soldier one last glance and figured if he was quick, there would be no problems.
He washed up more thoroughly, splashing cold water over his face, sighing at the relief that flowed down his back. He pressed his wet hands to the back of his neck, savouring the feeling, he took a seat on that same rock and put his elbows on his thighs and breathed. His nerves were still shot to hell.
Beside the fact that it's been ages since he's had to do any kind of field surgery. Soldier acted like he couldn't even feel it when Sam knows for a fact he could. He had to be able to. Even someone with nerve damage would feel that. What's been done to this man that's made him so obedient, he doesn't react to something as primal as pain?
Sam doesn't know how long he was sitting up there for. He was waiting for his fingers to stop feeling numb from the stress. He thinks he dozed off at one point, awoken when he heard a voice from behind him.
"Sam? You out here?"
Torres. He could hear his boots trudging through the leaves. He must be close to where Soldier is.
Sam was about to call out when he heard the sound of feet thudding quickly across the ground and Joaquín yelping in shock.
"Holy sh--" his voice cut off, followed by the sound of tumbling and struggling and a panicked "Sam?!"
Sam was already darting back, leaping over the rocks and sprinted back to their camp. Soldier was gone, Sam did a quick scan of the area and spotted them a couple dozen yards away. Joaquín on his back in the dirt with Soldier on top of him.
"Soldier stop!" Sam yelled as Soldier had his metal hand around Joaquín's throat, pushing him into the ground. One knee pressed into the middle of his torso. "He's a friend! Don't hurt him!"
Like the channel had been changed. Soldiers attack-dog demeanor switched to that same blank slate from before. He released Joaquín, stood up and turned to face Sam.
Sam let out a heavy sigh. Soldier was moving like he was uninjured. He'd need to double check all the stitches to make sure none of them popped.
"Oh that's so fucking weird." Joaquín wheezed, coughing, holding his neck and pushing himself up with his other arm. He was side eyeing Soldier in shock when Sam rushed to his side to help him up.
"Told you." Sam murmured, clasping his hand and pulling him to his feet. "You alright?" He tilted his pilots chin up to check for damage. It might bruise on the sides but nothing looked punctured.
Joaquín murmured a "Been better." Sam could feel Soldiers eyes on him. He turned his head and Soldier was watching the interaction intently, his eyes pinned on where Sam's fingers were gently holding Joaquín's jaw.
Torres had his eyes on Soldier, staring warily. "Dude, why's he staring like that?" He spoke out of the corner of his lips like Soldier wouldn't be able to hear him.
"Kinda his whole thing." Sam murmured, shrugging. "Maybe he's still cautious of you?" Sam guessed. He wasn't sure though. It definitely seemed like he attacked Joaquín in some attempt to protect himself or maybe Sam, but his behavior now was different. His brow was slightly furrowed like there was a hint of irritation resting on his face. Then, Sam dropped his hands and Soldiers face relaxed, casting his gaze to Sam's eyes.
Torres let his eyes drift down to Soldier's various injuries, landing on the packed gunshot wound on his thigh. "How the hell is he standing up?"
"Like I said earlier. He's not right."
Joaquin spoke out of the side of his mouth again. "Feels like an understatement now I'm seein' it myself." He kept his voice quiet. "But also if you're right, this guy killed like eight people so shouldn't we be more careful?"
Sam knew that was the smart thing to do. Be cautious around this strange, ostensibly dangerous man. But that same creeping feeling urged him to confirm something.
"Soldier, raise your right hand." Sam said suddenly. Soldier did it. Immediately raising his arm above his head. Joaquín's eyes widened near comically.
Sam rubbed his hand over his face, directing Soldier back to camp. "Okay. Drop it. Go back and lie down. Get off that leg." His voice leaned more heavily into order than request and Soldier instantly walked in the direction of their makeshift camp, not looking back.
"So fucking weird..." Joaquín whispered as they both watched the man simply walk away after attacking Torres.
"You see anything on the way in or out?" Sam brought the topic back to their original mission. Finding out what was going on with these ships.
Joaquin rubbed his neck gingerly. "Nothing out of the ordinary. CC got back to me. Still waiting for ID on the atlas."
"Well Soldier clearly didn't want the atlas flying around either." Sam huffed, hands on his hips. Joaquín gave him a quizzical look and Sam hid a more awkward reaction. "He won't tell me his name..." he said quietly. Joaquín raised his eyebrows, nodding in a mock joy.
"Oh! Normal!"
"Kid--" he said warningly, immediately giving up. They had walked into the middle of something. What? Sam had absolutely no idea. But whatever or whoever was responsible for Soldier being...the way he is, Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know. "How far out did you land?"
"It's a bit of a walk but it's clear." Joaquín nodded down the path he'd arrived from, the forest filled with yellowing trees, sunlight poking through the branches. "We can go whenever you're ready." He put his eyes on Soldier's back, his expression growing unsure.
"Are we, uh...taking him with us?" Joaquín's gaze shifted to Sam and his superior had his eyes on the man as well.
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Sam shrugged helplessly. "Well we can't leave him here."
Torres made a high pitched noise that trialed into his words. "You sure? We could just put a sign around his neck that says Free Guard Dog and move on with our lives?"
Sam knows he's joking but he gave him a tired stare regardless. "There's something wrong with him Torres. He acts like he doesn't-- have free will. It's unsettling." In the near distance, Soldier reached the camp and lay down obediently.
The pilot shrugged helplessly, struggling to get on the same page. "What? You sayin' he was like-- hypnotized into crashing his plane or something?"
"He sure acts like it." Sam half snapped, sighing and rubbing another hand down his face, stopping at his mouth.
Torres blew out a slow puff of air. "Dunno if that's gonna fly with the Commander. He blew up a carrier, they're gonna wanna take him in. Doubt they'll be as empathetic with him as you're bein'." He nodded his head to either side. "Plus y'know. Unless there's another guy with a metal arm going around assassinating presidents..."
Sam gritted his teeth behind his lips. "Well he barely speaks, so I doubt they're gonna get anything out of him anyway." A thought occured to him. An intrusive thought that would get him demoted if any higher ups found out about it.
Everything going through Sam's head at this moment is absolutely not proper procedure and is so incredibly illegal but his conscious is screaming at him. He can't let Soldier anywhere near their base.
Torres is right, there's no way in hell any of his superiors will care that Solder seems hypnotized at best, completely brainwashed at worst. They'll just wanna know how it happened, what his presence means for the sanctity of their nation, who they're going to war with because of the unsanctioned military actions. Soldier will get interrogated and thrown in a hole. Or he'll snap and try to fight his way out, getting himself killed. Sam stopped in his tracks, Joaquín doing the same.
After a pause that dragged on, the two of them standing there in the chill. Sam stayed looking at Soldier. "Torres you trust me, right?"
Joaquín sighed so heavily, his shoulders drooped. "...Yeah." He said regretfully. He knew Sam only asked that when he had already made up his mind and would not be swayed to change it.
Sam nodded, more to himself than Joaquín. "I need you to drop us off."
Joaquín held in a groan. "Where?"
Taking a deep, self assuring inhale through his nose, Sam finalized his thoughts. "Haven't decided yet. Just not back at base."
Joaquín's face tensed, slowly shaking his head. "My guy, if you go AWOL--"
"I'm not." Sam said quickly, firmly. "I just-- I need some time to figure out what's going on with him before I take it through the legal channels." If he can get some solid proof that Soldier needs help and not interrogation and imprisonment, then he can let whoever else who wants to get involved, do so.
Torres sucked in his lips and nodded. "Well I'm sure this will be an exciting story to tell a girl on my next leave." He spoke like he was holding his breath. Sam clapped him hand on his back.
"You won't need to do anything else. I'll deal with it on my own." He owed him big time. He knew he could count on Torres but he didn't want to take advantage of his eagerness to help Sam with literally anything he asks.
Joaquín's stare turned indignant. "Well obviously I'm not leaving you alone forever with that guy. I'll be on standby if you need me." He sounded reluctant and yet stubbornly agreeing that he'd already made up his mind.
They kept walking until they reached the camp, Joaquín giving Soldier a wide birth, sticking to the edge of the tree, looking around the area. "Nice place you got here." He chirped, not expecting a response, just talking for the sake of talking. To fill the silence.
Sam walked up to Soldier, he was lying with his arms at his sides, staring up at the sky like he was in standby mode. Sam swallowed hard looking down at him. He crouched down and Soldier's eyes snapped to him in a second, looking up expectantly. Sam looked over the stitches. Miraculously, it didn't look like any had popped or even pulled. There wasn't a concerning amount of blood coming from the packed gun shot wound either.
Sam tightened his lips, afraid of the answer to the question he hadn't asked yet. But he didn't want Soldier not mentioning his discomfort anymore. "Soldier. Tell me the truth." He paused, staring into those attentive, pliant blue eyes. "Are you in pain?"
"Yes." His response was blunt, flat.
Sam let out a sigh that came from deep in his diaphragm. "Okay. In that case I need you to stay still until it's time for us to move, alright? We need you healthy and preferably not in pain." He gently touched his palm to Solder's shoulder. Soldier took a deep breath as soon as their skin made contact, eyes gazing up at him like Sam held the answer to every question he could ask.
Sam leaned back and sighed at Soldiers dirty, blood stained clothes. They didn't exactly have another option other than walking him around in his underwear. Sam helped him get dressed, not doing the belt up yet and spoke over his shoulder to Torres as he tied his boots. "How long is 'a bit of a walk'?" He quoted Joaquín's words from earlier and his pilot shrugged.
"Forty minutes? Give or take."
Sam nodded, moving to his pack and pulling out another dose of painkiller. "Roll onto your side Soldier."
He did and Sam pulled his waistband down enough to get to the top of his butt, just below his hip. "Gonna feel a lil poke." He said it automatically, his other patients usually appreciate the warning. He injected the painkiller and nodded to himself. "That should make our trek a little more comfortable for you. We're still gonna take it easy. No speed walking."
Joaquín mused from behind him "Probably closer to an hour then." Sam started to pack up his things, leaving the shock blanket Soldier was laying on for last, giving the meds a chance to do their thing.
"Alright." He made sure no packaging had blown away into the bushes. When he glanced back, Soldier was still laying there with his pants and belt undone. Sam almost forgot that this guy would stop breathing if Sam told him to.
"Do yourself up. Time to go." Sam nodded to the path Joaquín pointed out. At the instruction, Soldier fixed up his pants and belt, pushing himself to his feet. Sam took the shock blanket and wiped it down a little, before folding it up and stuffing it into his pack. Sam turned to Joaquín. "Lead the way."
Sam had offered his arm to Soldier to help him walk, but Soldier was busy watching their surroundings. He stuck close to Sam like a bodyguard, his head snapping to sounds Sam and Joaquín couldn't even hear.
Joaquín, who was walking a few steps ahead to keep out of Soldiers way while he patrolled, stopped walking for a second to let Sam catch up. "So have you decided where I'm taking you two then? Do you have a secluded cabin in mind?" His eyes stayed on Soldier, who had apparently heard something off to the side, stalking over to check behind a tree.
Sam scratched the back of his head. "Are there any towns nearby? Something small-ish?" His plan was to drop Soldier off at a motel for a night so Sam could go sign off at the base. Also organize his excuse for why he was going to be gone to feed to his commander.
Joaquín thought about his answer. "Yeah. Heavy on the small. Got a population of maybe five hundred."
"Perfect." He exhaled tiredly, biting the inside of his lip. "Look Torres, I'm sorry. I know I'm risking a lot on a hunch--"
Joaquín raised a hand to cut him off. "That's why I love ya' Sam. That big beautiful heart of yours." He swung an arm over Sam's shoulders in a half hug as they walked. "For what it's worth, I agree it's weird. I mean it doesn't take long to notice that guy is--" he was about to gesture to Soldier to make a point and paused. Soldier was staring daggers at Joaquín. If it were possible to sear a hole in his forehead with a glare alone...
Sam followed the gaze and spent a second trying to decipher what was going through Soldiers head. Joaquín was not so subtlety hiding behind Sam.
Sam quirked up an eyebrow at Soldier. "Soldier it's fine." He tried. He compared it to earlier when he made the same face as Sam was holding Joaquín's face to check his neck.
"Is he being protective or jealous right now?" Joaquín twisted his lips "I hope it's the first one, you're like my dad."
Sam slowly turned back to him. "How old do you think I am?"
He shrugged. "Dad age."
"Not old enough to have a kid your age."
Joaquín rolled his eyes. "Fine, uncle age."
Funnily, after listening to the conversation, Soldier's stare seemed to relax. Though he was still not a fan of Joaquín touching Sam. The pilot made a show of removing his hands and stepping away, then Soldier went back to what he was doing before.
Joaquín murmured under his breath. "Can't tell if you got yourself a guard dog or a really shitty boyfriend."
"Torres."
"I didn't say anything."
Not long after, Sam could see their plane in the distance. He felt a relief, saddled with an anticipation for a task he hadn't even fully comprehended in him mind. He felt crazy for considering any of this but Soldier was surrounded by red flag, after red flag that Sam couldn't ignore. He looked back to where he thought Soldier was and saw nothing but forest. Furrowing his eyebrows, he fully turned around, flinching with a start when Soldier snapped his hand out to grab his arm.
"Jesus-- What are--"
"We're being followed." Soldier said plainly.
Joaquín shook his head, looking startled "No I-- The area was clear. I wouldn't have landed here if it wasn't."
Soldier kept his voice low, gesturing for Joaquín to do the same. "They aren't trying to close in. They're keeping their distance. The plane is a trap." He spoke so strangely. His sentences didn't flow. He made statements, speaking in short bursts like he was speaking from a list.
"You sound awfully sure." Sam whispered and a flicker of something flashed over Soldiers blank face when he locked eyes with Sam.
Sighing, feeling his nerves kick up again, Sam looked over to the plane sitting in the middle of the clearing. Dense forest surrounded it but Sam would never know there was anyone around if Soldier didn't sound so certain. "So you're saying they're watching the plane?"
Soldier simply nodded. Joaquín looked guilty and Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault kid. You did everything you were supposed to."
Joaquín huffed out a sigh, looking over his shoulder at the plane. "Do we make a run for it?"
"Hold up." He turned to Soldier. "Do you know who they are?"
Soldier stared on stoically. His eyes gazed over to a specific point on the treeline, like he could see something the other two couldn't. "They've come to get me."
Sam held up a hand, closing his eyes for a moment. "Who? Are they your...team? What do you mean?" Whoever they were, are they the ones responsible for him acting the way he does?
Soldier continued to explain matter-of-factly. "I failed to report back, so they're here to collect me." His vague explanation just made Sam huff. He had a lot of questions, but one stood out among the rest.
"...Do you want them to?"
Soldiers eye twitched. He gave Sam that same confused look, slightly tilting his head and Sam just knew wanting wasn't an option he had. If he did want anything. Sam doesn't think it would matter.
Sam locked eyes with him. Trying to speak past this stoic wall to the man underneath. "Soldier. Do you want to go with them?"
Soldiers eyes went out of focus, looking through Sam, his irises trembling. Sam wanted to reach out to him, ask him what was going on, if he was safe, just explain something clearly instead of this vague nonsense.
Sam was about to try again when Soldier's eyes went steely, locking onto something over Sam's shoulder.
"Of course he does. He is needed for another mission."
A thick Russian accent broke the tension and added a new layer of panic. "He wants what we want."
Sam whipped around, pulling Joaquín back by his arm, stepping forward to stand in front of his young pilot.
"Who are you?" Sam made sure he was in front of Soldier too. It was a group of seven, emerging from the woods around them. Sam's heart skipped a beat. He didn't hear any of them. How didn't he hear even one of them?
The leader dragged his eyes up and down Sam and Joaquín. "Ah. Americans. This does not concern you. Relinquish the asset and be on your way."
"Asset? Wh--" Sam's voice caught in his throat and his eyes snapped to Soldier. He was staring at the ground, eyes wide, sweating.
The man in front sighed, bored. "Do I not speak clear enough? Return the asset to us and we might not kill you."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "You think that's your choice to make huh?"
The Russian mans lip twitched. "The Asset is property of Hydra. You will return him to us." He repeated, looking at Sam like he was a minor inconvenience to him.
Sam's jaw tightened. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to, but I'm not letting you go anywhere with anyone. So you and Hydra can fuck off."
The man grunted, turning his head sharply to Soldier. He started speaking in Russian. Sam couldn't catch all of it. He heard the words obey, or maybe disobey, return, base, handle... Handler? Whatever he was saying, he was speaking directly to Soldier. When Soldier didn't lift his eyes from the ground or respond, the man groaned loudly, almost a roar. He snapped something in Russian to the men behind him and half of them prepped what looked like dart guns, the other half batons that crackled with electricity. "I told them it had been too long since the last reset." The leader hissed to himself.
Watching them prep to attack, Sam put a hand behind him on his weapon. Joaquín and Sam both had pistols on them. Rather concealed among the rest of their gear. They were only to unholster them in moments of absolute necessity. This was beginning to seem like one of those moments.
Sam looked to Soldier, face cracking with concern. "Soldier? What did he say to you? Are you alright?" He spoke right as a shot of air fired from one of the dart guns.
--
THE ASSET MUST OBEY THE STRIKE TEAM
The strike team leaders words pierced the assets defenses with a pointed accuracy. Demanding compliance, demanding the asset does as it was made for.
OBEY STRIKE TEAM
--*_--*___*NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL_..__*__-
_*--__**-*-_
DIRECTIVE CONFLICTION.
PRIORITIZE
PRIOR__*---ITIZE
Warm smile, warm hands, warmer eyes. Gentle, caring...
"Well that can't be right. You gotta have a name. What am I supposed to call you?"
A warmth piercing the cold. Echoes of something beyond the numb abyss.
...--*_____.--*______...--*______...*
NO HARM MUST COME TO MEDICAL PERSONNEL.