Remembering Freedom

Malfunction

Jemma just wished something would happen. It had been five long, monotonous days since Barnes had left on his mission and she hadn't left her cell in that time, except for monitored showers and bathroom breaks. What she wouldn't give for a gunshot wound...or really anything that pulled her out of this dingy box. They had finally gotten rid of that bloody shackle though, which left Jemma pacing a rut into the concrete floor. She wasn't good at doing nothing, at standing still.

All it really did was give her time to think about everything. How her team was probably looking everywhere for her...how they probably assumed the worst had happened. May, Coulson, and the others would keep a calm head, but Skye and Fitz...she remembered their reactions when she had gone undercover at HYDRA. They were probably thinking the worst...

Then there was the next mission target, Ms. Potts. Worry and guilt sat like a rock in her stomach the more she thought about it...and irritated her a bit. She was one of smartest individuals to come out of the Academy in years and she couldn't think of a single thing she could do. Sneaking out on her own wasn't an option, she was under guard constantly. They weren't dumb to leave access medication out, it was always prepped and ready before she got there. Her meager self-defense skills would probably hold up against a fellow scientist or two, but where the advantage be in that? HYDRA had no problem with finding replacements.

She was about to start pacing again when the door swung open. It was another faceless guard and she again noticed they didn't put the hood on. Did they really trust her so soon...or did they just not care? It was probably the latter, she thought as she was once again walked into the medical room.

She was surprised to find Barnes already waiting for her. The agents left the room to stand on the other side of the door. She ran her eyes down his body, but there wasn't any visible injury. She asked him to remove his gear and he did so swiftly. No bruising or fracturing and the gunshot wound to his shoulder was completely healed over with minimal scarring. His temperature was normal, his pulse steady. She quickly ran an eye down the metal arm, but there didn't appear to be any dents or scorch marks.

"Soldier," She inwardly cringed at using the 'name' they gave him, but she couldn't exactly call him Bucky Barnes. Who knew how he would react? "Why are you here?"

"I'm malfunctioning."

"I see no visible injuries and your...arm appears to be in working order." She went to stand in front of him and that's when she saw his eyes.

The dark blue depths held that same confusion before he'd been 'wiped'. He was looking at her as though she had all the answers. He looked down at his hands, dark hair falling in his eyes. "I'm malfunctioning." He repeated, this time more forcefully, those eyes drilling holes into her.

"Okay." She held her hands up, removing the gloves and setting them on the table. "What's malfunctioning?"

His eyebrows drew together and drew a breath, those eyes never leaving hers. "He was short...like you." He tensed, as if preparing himself for a strike.

"Who was short?" She pulled a stool to where he was seated on the edge of the bed and sat across from him. He appeared surprised that she wasn't calling one of the other agents or even the Doctor in. She watched him open his mouth and close it, as if unsure. "You can tell me."

"The man...the man on the bridge." He looked at her for a moment. "He used to be shorter...and now he's tall."

Jemma didn't know how to respond. She knew pre-serum Steve Rogers had been around her height and probably weighed even less before Project Rebirth. How was she supposed to explain that to him when he couldn't even remember his own name? She could see the signs of sleeplessness in the shadows under his eyes and the fatigued set of his shoulders. When was the last time he had slept? "Do you know his name?"