We're Not Dead Yet (Split Souls part 2)

20: Winter

Winter knew patience. He could remain in position for hours on end, but found that his fingers had a tendency to tap at the side of his sniper rifle. Winter always held completely still whenever someone else was with him. Superiors didn't like him getting fidgety.

Winter tapped as he waited, staring down the sight. The tapping wasn't monotonous. It was a pattern that repeated. With a start, Winter realized it was Morse code. He listened intently, trying to figure out what it said. What he was trying to say.

.. .----. -- / .... . .-. . / ... - . ...- .

I'm here Steve

Steve? Winter thought. Why would he be tapping out a message like that? Winter stilled his finger, and went back to staring through the sights. An odd emotion prickled his chest. Steve?

Some minutes later, Winter silently cursed as he realized he was tapping again. Why was he tapping out random Morse code? It didn't make sense to him. Neither did the new phrase.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

I love you

Winter scowled. Those words had no place in his mind. From then on he held as still as if a superior were standing behind him.

Hours passed. His fingers twitched. With a huff of annoyance, he had to loosen the muscles, because he couldn't have his fingers cramp when there was still a trigger to pull. The tapping resumed. Sometimes, there'd be a partial phrase that was new, but his finger would stall before Winter could figure out what it meant.

This gave Winter a lot to think about. It was like muscle memory, the Morse code phrases. He was sure that he'd tapped them out countless times before. The strangest thing was that he couldn't remember ever learning those phrases, let alone tapping them.

As Winter thought more about memories, he noted that he didn't remember nearly anything. Only HYDRA. And those memories were sparse, they left gaps. Things didn't add up. Clothes styles changed drastically, slang evolved, accents morphed. 

Winter had developed theories over the past few days. One of them that made little sense, and yet had the most evidence: The one where he was frozen. Winter had blurry images of being frozen alive, a hand reaching to break the glass. His antipathy of the cold. And his name, the Winter Soldier.

But just being frozen in time didn't explain all the gaps of his memory. Where was his childhood? He grasped for straws, and eventually came up with a smile, maybe two... And a brief, hazy memory, or maybe it was a few that blurred together- Red. The red that Winter was familiar with: Blood. He was cleaning blood... Off of... Someone. Not himself, someone else.

What was going on? Winter hadn't thought like this before. Why was he doubting things? You don't doubt your superiors, they told you everything you need to know. 

Like a saving grace to save him from himself, he saw movement from within the apartment. Now came the more interesting part: Waiting until a shot lined up to take out both targets. After all, it was much harder when one of them vanished behind a wall and took cover.

The first to enter his field of vision was the one called Maelstrom. Seeing him in person gave Winter an odd feeling. In some way, Maelstrom felt familiar, even from this distance. 

Then Captain America entered the room. Winter found that he couldn't breathe. That was the same man as in his dream. The same one he wouldn't leave without, the one he thought was swallowed by flames. And, his mind provided another snapshot; the outstretched hand he was reaching for when he fell belonged to this man.

He knew that man. He knew that man. He knew that man as... As a friend? They had been friends? It didn't make sense.

Captain America sighed, and walked over to the couch. He plopped down on the seat with his back to the window, and reached forward. He picked up a sheet of paper. Winter took a closer look at the image, wondering what intelligence he had.