The Darkest Path

1

She liked him
She did... he had wild hair and an old soul like herself.
And somehow she had fallen tragically in love with his sad beautiful eyes.

- N.R. Hart

Doctor Grace Pierce was walking through the cold and dusky corridors with papers in her hand. Somewhere in the building a loud banging noise was echoing through.
Grace didn't care. There was always some noise. On her Doc Martens she walked into her workspace.
She turned on the light and laid her leather bag down. Spitting through papers and helping some patients: three. And if she wasn't wrong, her father would come and take a look. With a sigh she looked at her workspace.
It was big and spacious, with everything she needed. But no windows. No colours. Nothing that was gave a happy feeling. All walls and floors were made of granite and every other meter a fluorescent tube hung.
How nice.
Once she hung up a bright painting, full of colours — it made her feel happy and light. But when she went to grab some coffee and came back, it was gone. Her father had dealt her severely.
She wasn't allowed to change anything in her workspace. At least, not without consultation.
Grace glanced at the clock. 08:38 AM.
It was going to be a long day.

- - -

With a frown in her forehead Grace poked the young woman with her pen. On her shoulder, both of them. There was something wrong in the right one, she didn't know what.
"Ow," growled the young woman. Grace ignored it — she was used to the bad tempered personalities.
"Does it hurt?" Grace poked again at the same place. The woman stiffened and Grace could swear that the woman was grinding her teeth.
"It does."
She nodded, more to herself than to Mrs. Jones, the female soldier. Grace glanced at the other soldiers — more like guards. They were watching her and Mrs. Jones with a cold, tight look. A cold shiver made its way up Graces spine as she thought about the fact what they could do with those huge guns in their arms.
"And here it doesn't hurt?" Grace poked in the other shoulder. Mrs. Jones shook her head and pulled a blond pluck. Grace bit her lip.
Another poke in the other shoulder. Mrs. Jones was convulsed by the pain. "This is the spot, isn't it?"
A nod from Mrs. Jones, "Damn right." Grace felt a small smile.
"It's nothing to worry about. Just a strained muscle. That can hurt." Mrs. Jones scoffed.
"No shit, Sherlock." Grace rolled with her eyes.
"Give it some rest and don't push yourself too hard. Stretch and use some compresses. It'll be fine." Mrs. Jones got up and pulled on the clothes from her top.
Her frozen, hazelnut brown eyes glanced at Grace and she nodded, respecting, "Thanks, Doc Pierce."
Grace smiled at her patient. "It's always a pleasure, Mrs. Jones."
Mrs. Jones tied her hair in a tight knot. "See you later." And with those words, Mrs. Jones left Grace's workspace. The men walked with her and left Grace behind.
With a sigh, Grace cleaned her workspace, making it ready for her last patient. The whole day she had been helping patients with their problems and spitting through papers. A glance at the clock. 06:14 PM.
The day was almost over. After twenty minutes she was ready. And he was right on time. Like always.
One, loud knock on the door. "Come in!" With shoulder long brown hair her next and last patient came in, with sad and knowing, blue eyes.
She saw it immediately; that metal arm caused problems again. Grace smiled at him — she did that to all her patients. Where she worked it was so cold and dark and sad. Her patients were, too. So she always tried to cheer them up.
"Winter Soldier," Grace said and reached out, "It is good to see you again." He glanced at her hand, hesitating for a moment. Then he accepted it and gave her his left arm. The metal one.
Which was an advantage, she was left handed. Well, that wasn't entirely true; she could use both hands.
     As soon as the cold, strong metal touched her warm hand, she pulled it towards herself.
He was shocked, but didn't response. He let her. With her other hand she pushed with two fingers in his chest, next to the metal. She knew he had lost his arm, not when or how. Actually, the Winter Soldier was the one and only patient that she almost didn't know a thing about.
    He was a big mystery. But she never asked anything — she knew that the soldiers, especially the Winter Soldier, always kept many secrets. It was the third time she would treat him and she always liked it, somehow. He was silent, kind.
    Grace woke up from her thoughts.
    "Does this hurt?" She looked up at him. Slowly he shook his head.
    "Only a little, doctor Pierce," he said.
    "Hm." Grace let go of his hand en gestured that he had to sit down on her work table.
    He sat down and glanced at the new guards. The ones that always were there when Grace treated him were replaced. Why, she didn't know.
    Grace glanced too. "Don't worry about them," she said as she rolled up the sleeves of her doctor's coat — she knew that the soldier didn't like them. He looked back at her again. "When you're here you're my patient."
    She gave him a strict look. "That means there's nothing to worry about. Remember?" No reaction. Maybe he forgot — this was only his third time here.
    She realised that he wouldn't be comfortable or even saying one word with the guards.
    Grace glanced over her shoulder. "Please, leave my work space." She raised her eyebrows and the guards looked at one each other. "Well? Go on."
    After they hesitated, they walked out. Now they were alone. Grace smiled at her patient.
    "Better?"
    He nodded. "Yes, doctor."
    "That's good." She pulled at his sleeve. "Take this off, please."
    Grace stepped back to watch how he did it — laboriously, with a painful look on his face as he moved forward an back with his left arm. Right.
    When he had pulled it out, Grace inspected the places where the metal arm was attached to his body. She poked around it and on his back with her fingers.
    "Say something when you feel a little pain or anything," Grace said on a strict tone, but her patient didn't respond. She poked and pricked, but he didn't say a thing. He only stiffened now and then.
    "Soldier?" No reaction. Then she poked him hard into his ribs with her pen and he reacted startled, but gave no desired response.
    "Sorry," he said after three seconds and he straightened his back, "My thoughts are somewhere else."
    Grace walked around, so she could face him. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look at me."
    He did. He seemed more sad than normal — sometimes she saw him outside this room, but only a glimpse. It happened five times. 
    "Did anything happen lately?" He opened his mouth, and closed it again. "I'm your doctor," she reminded him, "so that means you can tell me everything that's on your mind."
    He sniffed. "That's exactly the problem, Dr. Pierce." The Winter Soldier took a deep breath. "I don't know what is going on in my mind."
    He sounded defeated. Grace felt sorry for him.
    "You want to talk about it?" He shook his head.
    "That is a nice offer," he said, "but not necessary. I'm here for my weekly health check. That's all." Grace kept looking at him for a few seconds, and nodded.
    "All right." She walked to his back again. "If there is anything you want to talk about, I'm always at the same place."
    He nodded. Again Grace poked in his back and chest by the attachment of his metal arm. The strong, hard muscles sometimes moved, but he still didn't say a thing.
    This wouldn't work.
    "Soldier," Grace said and he stiffened and automatically straightened his back, chin in the air.   
    "Dr. Pierce."
    "This isn't going to work if you don't tell me where you feel those little pains." She thought for a second. "Let's make a deal."
    "A deal?" He sounded confused. Grace smiled — she could make this nice.
    "Every time you feel something that doesn't feel right, you say... 'flower'." She stopped for a second, was curious about his reaction. Her heart was pounding — this was silly, but fun, and had never done something like this before. It was a bit childish. But she didn't care.
    She could feel him frown. "Flower?"
    "Hm-mm." He turned, so she could look him in the eye.
    "I'm sorry, but I'm not a child anymore, Dr. Pierce," he said calmly and Grace smiled at him.
    "Than why do you act like one?" He opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. No answer. She made a spinning gesture with her finger. "Come on, the day is almost over. And we're not going to get any further with this."
    She pricked again. Then stopped. "And... if you do well, you get a little surprise."
    "I don't like surprises." Grace pushed, hard.
    "You'll like this one, mister. Now, do what I asked you to do." After she had poked and pricked him at several places, she started to move his arm in different positions. The muscles in his torso and some nerves had some trouble to get attached to the new cybernetic limb. She remembered that it had an upgrade lately.
    He would have to return more often if he wanted his body to fully adjust to his metal arm.
"Did you do something that caused you these problems?" It took him a few seconds before he responded.
"I had some rough fights, ma'am," he answered softly. Grace nodded — didn't ask further. She didn't need to know, only if he had done something that was a little bit too much for the new limb.
"This here," she said as she tapped on the metal, "is your 'new' arm. I've heard it got an upgrade lately, so it needs some time for your body to get used to. What did you do?"
"I..." He took a deep breath. "I pushed myself too hard." Grace rolled her eyes — soldiers always did that, even when they knew it wasn't right.
"I can see that." She took his cybernetic hand in hers and moved his arm up and down, forward and back, bowed his elbow.
"Flower."
Grace grinned. It worked! "You don't like this?" She made the same movement again and he shivered.
"It's a damn flower."
"Flowers are nice, now tell me what you feel." Grace made the same movement again and again until he exactly told her how it felt and where.
"Only because I pushed myself too hard?" he asked and he looked up. Grace raised a shoulder.
"I'm afraid so. You didn't give your body enough time and training to adjust completely to this new arm." She let go of it and walked around so she faced him. "You have to come back twice a week, now, take some rest and stretch and do simple exercises. And don't push yourself too hard and don't take any risks. You understand me?"
After five seconds, he nodded and looked down. "Yes, doctor Pierce."
    "Will you do it?"
    Another nod. "Yes, doctor Pierce." She smiled at him and patted on his shoulder.
"You'll be fine, if you do as I ask you." He looked up frowning. Confused.
"Ask?" Grace nodded. "Not a command?"
"It maybe sounded like one, but I always ask my patients to listen to my advice. If they don't they'll have to deal with the consequences." Grace raised her shoulders. "That's all."
He nodded and his sad look became a bit less. "Can I put this on again?"
"Of course, check is done." Grace walked to her desk and rummaged in her drawer. "And now you'll get your reward for being a nice patient."
He sniffed and walked to her desk. With a stupid grin on her face she handed over a sticker of a yellow rose.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Flower," he said and took it.
"That's right." She wrote something in her agenda. "Come back over two days. I want to see you every Tuesday and Friday until this problem is over." He nodded and looked back at the sticker.
"I'll be here."
Grace reached out her hand. "See you then, soldier." He shook her hand.
"Thank you, Dr. Pierce."