Touch Me I'm Going to Scream // [Stucky]

Chapter 7

"James."

He turns.

And there is nothing.

"Jamie."

He turns.

And there is no one.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to jump into puddles?"

He spins.

Where is she?

"Jamie, go braid your sister's hair, please."

He runs.

His steps don't echo.

"Oh, honey, don't cry. We'll clean it and then I'll patch you up. You'll be as good as new, baby."

He screams her name.

It doesn't reach her.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

There is nothing below him and he's falling.

Mama.

His body spasms and his eyes snap open. He feels uncomfortably warm and his heart is beating high in his throat.

"Mom." The word scratches up his throat.

"Winifred." The name is punched out of his lungs.

He remembers her. He had a mother. The Soldier looks for someone else in the room with whom he can share this information but he's alone. The machines whirl and the room stays silent.

The pouring of memories is overwhelming and he hears his ragged breaths get faster. At the back of his mind, he can hear an increasing beeping sound. His hand grips the blanket and his eyes stay shut.

Her black hair and brown eyes hurt his brain; her warm hands and loving words puncture his chest. His hollowed-out brain fills up to the brim with memories of his mother, and the Soldier—James, Jamie, honey, baby, son. His mother's kisses on the forehead dig an elbow into the ribs of his programming.

The man feels a sharp sting on one of his cheeks and his eyes finally open and try to focus, hearing coming back online. There is shouting and lights blind him. He wants someone to get his mom so she can place her palm over his forehead and tell him if he has a fever or not.

"I told you to get out!" James winces at the high volume. His brain feels like it has been liquefied and poured back into his skull. He tries to lift his hand and block out the light. He succeeds at the third try and his forearm falls heavily over his eyes, something tugging at the skin.

"I'm his nurse," another voice answers, offended.

"I don't fucking care, you just slapped someone that was waking up from an operation," answers a man and the Soldier thinks it would be best for the second man to do what he's been ordered.

"Look," he sounds less convinced now but he perseveres, "Captain America, sir, with all due respect but that man is a—"

James peeks from under his arm just in time to see a bulky man push another man out of the room, this one dressed in scrubs. He reenters and slams the door closed, muttering something about "firing the sack of shit." His step falters when he catches sight of James—the Soldier. James marvels at the notion of having a real name and this realization leaves him breathless.

"Hey, pal, you gotta breath," the blond man instructs and James finally remembers who he is. He inhales. "Just like that." The Soldier—James is undecided between sneering at the praise or preening; positive reinforcement isn't something used on him.