Summary: Captain Rogers wakes to find himself tied down and blinded in combat, with no memory of his injury. Disorientated and afraid, he must reconcile himself to the possibility of life without sight, but is all as it seems

Set: Between Avengers Assemble and Winter Soldier

Spoilers: Avengers Assemble and Captain America: First Avenger. Also slight spoilers for other first-round Marvel films.

Genres: Hurt/comfort to action.

Rating: T for threat and inferred interrogation sequences (nothing seen, but what's implied is to my mind nasty).

Disclaimer: This world belongs Marvel. Only the original characters and this plot are my own.

A note on formatting: The lines with only a comma on them are not intended as time breaks. They are my attempt to preserve some of my original formatting and break the text up to make it easier to read.

It was dark. It was quiet. What time was it? Steve Rogers shifted himself to roll over and look at the clock on his bedside table, sleep still clouding his brain. He froze.

Something was pressing across his shoulders, and something else on his left wrist. A cuff? Something was over his face, no, just his eyes. He couldn't see anything. Experimentally, he pulled his right arm up. Something tight around that wrist held it in place. Captain Rogers's breath caught in his throat. Restraints. He was lying in restraints. In that case, the thing on his eyes was a blindfold. He'd been taken prisoner. He didn't know where, he didn't know who was holding him, he didn't know why.

Readiness, the unnatural strength he relied on, flooded his system. He was in very real danger where he was. He had to get out. If he tried to escape, would he attract the attention of his captors? It had to be to be pretty dark beyond the blindfold, no light was showing through it, maybe they weren't watching. Even if they were, their response might give him clues as to what on earth was going on.

Captain Rogers relaxed very determinedly, breathing out slowly. He gritted his teeth, breathed in and pulled his right arm up with all his might. The edge of the strap bit in to his wrist, he couldn't move his upper arm much, there was another strap just below where it joined his body. It had to give. He pulled harder. He clenched his fist and redoubled his efforts, arching his back as far as he could to the left. He needed more leverage. He had to be able to do this. He was not going to be beaten by a leather strap. He needed a hand free. Maybe the left side was weaker. He switched sides, blood rushed back to his right hand as the strap bit his left. He hissed in effort. Still nothing moved. His legs. He grabbed the surface of the bed with both hands and jerked both legs up towards his body. The restraints didn't move, and there was another one over his thighs, a handspan up from his knees. The strap round his shoulders dug in to the muscle of his chest. Rogers pushed himself back up the bed, gasping now, pulling on the straps almost at random, hard, painful pulls. He had to get free. These shouldn't be able to hold him. He had to get free. He had to -

"Woah, Captain, hold on! Hold on!" A woman's voice somewhere off to the left. Rodgers stopped struggling. He was getting nowhere. Answers might be as good as escape right now. "You're safe. Just let me undo these." She said. Rogers took a deep breath and released it again. Small, fine hands brushed his shoulder, undoing the strap.

"What is going on?"

"This is a SHIELD facility Captain, you're safe."

"You said that. Why am I tied down?"

"You were wounded in combat, Captain. We thought we were losing you, you've had quite a lot of violent seizures. You were a risk to yourself and to us." What? When had that happened? The last thing he remembered was setting off from the camp he'd been training at for the past month. He hadn't been in real combat for six weeks or more, and he'd come out of that without a scratch.

"I don't remember that." The strap across his shoulders opened

"That's not surprising." She moved on to his left hand.

"What happened?" She didn't answer. "Look, I think I have a right to know why I've woken up tied down and blindfold."

"Some more of the aliens that you and the other Avengers drove out of New York turned up. You, Agent Romanova and Agent Barton went to fight them, but they had some sort of chemical weapon we haven't seen before." His left hand was free. He reached up to take the blindfold off. "Wait, wait, wait, no!" The woman shouted, grabbing his wrist. He could have pulled free, but he didn't. "That's there for a reason. Let me finish telling you what happened. If I let go, do you promise not to take the bandage off?" Rogers hesitated. If she was lying, his odds of fighting his way out right now weren't good, not until he knew what he was likely to be up against. If she was telling the truth, he shouldn't try.

"OK. I promise."

"OK." She reached for his right hand." The aliens had a weapon we haven't seen before. They were shooting at faces, Romanova got away unharmed, but you and Barton both got hit in the eyes." This didn't sound good. "You both went down almost straight away, screaming in agony. Both of you were brought here for treatment. We're trying to save your sight." Oh no. The blackness seemed to close around Rogers as she said it. He was a soldier. What was he if he was blind? He couldn't live like that. He couldn't walk around with a cane for the rest of his life. He forced himself to be calm. "That's what the bandage is for."

"Where's Barton now?" Rogers's right hand came loose. She moved on to his legs.

"I'm sorry Captain, I know you and Agent Barton were friends, but we lost him. The weapon did something to his brain. He died about 24 hours ago." Barton was dead.

"Romanova?"

"She left. She stuck around for a bit, she left in the small hours this morning. I don't wanna be the one trying to talk to her right now." That sounded right.

"After Barton..?"

"Yeah." His legs came free. He pushed himself in to a sitting position. No giddiness. That was something at least.

"Can I talk to her?"

"Captain, she's working, she's off coms, you know how she is."

"You've found her before, find her."

"There are probably people trying, Captain." Rogers bit his tongue. He needed to think logically. He needed to be rational. He needed not to panic. He needed not to let the fact he might be facing a life without sight affect him. The straps on his ankles fell away.

"Fury?"

"As Fury usually is, he's working. He's on the other side of the continent right now."

"Can you telephone him for me?"

"Look, Captain, I know you've been very valuable to Fury," Have been. "but he doesn't hold on to sentimental value. Until you're fit to work for him, you're not his concern. It's blunt, but that's the way he is." Rogers sighed.

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days, a bit more now." He nodded. Fury really didn't look back.

"Why couldn't I break the restraints?"

"What?"

"Not many restraints can hold me. I can usually get loose."

"Ah. We gave you Soma, that'll be why." What on earth was Soma? "Oh, Soma. It relaxes your muscles, we were trying to calm the seizures down, but it would probably do that too. Don't worry, it'll wear off in a couple of hours. Are you in any pain?" Rogers shifted himself.

"No."

"Well at least those drugs are working. Is there anything I can get you?" Rogers drew breath slowly. His eyes back, a familiar voice, a familiar place, remembering what had happened…

"Water would be good."

"I'll go get you some. And tell Doctor Ryman that you're up."

,

Rogers heard the door open and close. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head on his forearms. He felt the bandage against the skin of his arms. He was blind. He was actually blind. He could feel himself shaking. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be blind. But he was blind, and Barton was dead. He shuffled himself in to a kneeling position, clasping his hands in front of himself. This at least felt normal. He'd always prayed with his eyes closed.

"God," He breathed. "Help me. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to do it." There was more he needed to say, it took him a minute to bring himself to say it. "God, you let this happen to me and you must have had a reason for it, even if I can't see it, understand it, right now." He took a breath and half released it. "Give me serenity to accept what I can't change, courage to change what I can and wisdom to know the difference. Help me to settle here as I am and find a way to… be." It felt like a long shot. He had no idea how he could ever learn to live like this. "I know that Clint Barton has gone to you, I pray that he's safe in your care." Again, long shot. He had no idea if Barton had been a Christian. He should've said something to him. It was too late now. "God, show me what to do. Amen."

,

Rogers sat up again. He felt a bit steadier now. He'd have felt easier for just one familiar voice. There was no pillow on this bed, and no blanket either. He was dressed in a hospital gown. They probably needed access to his veins or whatever. He heard a door open.

"Captain, you're awake." A man's voice this time, deep and slightly southern sounding. Rogers turned his head to the sound instinctively. The door closed again.

"Doctor Ryman I presume."

"Nurse Grogan told you?"

"Yes."

"I'd imagine that you have a lot of questions right now."

"You'd be right." Footsteps drawing nearer. Two sets, one heavier than the other.

"Here's your water Captain." The same woman, Nurse Grogan, said. Rogers held out his left hand. She guided it to a plastic cup. "There's a straw in it, I thought that might be easier."

"Thank you." He groped for the straw with his right hand and put the end in his mouth. He'd needed that. "Do you know what Nurse Grogan told me?"

"Yes. All of what she told you is correct."

"How likely is it that you can save my sight?" A pause.

"Quite frankly, Captain, I don't know. We've never seen this weapon before. It ate back along your optic nerve and gave you meningitis, which we now have under control. If we were talking about someone who hadn't survived being frozen for seventy years then thawed, I would say slim. The nerves may or may not re-grow, partly it depends on how much of the tissue in your eyes dies and whether they can regrow. It's possible you'll lose both eyes, it's possible you'll regain both, it's possible you'll be taking style tips from Director Fury."

"What? Just lose one?"

"Uh-huh." Rogers took a breath slowly.

"Well I guess that's better than losing both." He heard something like the shadow of a laugh, he couldn't tell which person. "How likely am I to die now?"

"Unlikely. You're sitting up, drinking water and talking sense to me. In a way I guess we've already won." Rogers dropped his head.

"Doesn't feel that way though, huh?" Grogan said. It was odd not to need to turn his head away to hide his eyes.

"Yeah." No one spoke for a moment. "Have you got a plan?"

"We've got a list of things to try, most of them will require anaesthesia, since touching your eyes hurts you so much and the smallest twitch from you could do irreparable damage." Rogers drew a breath slowly.

"OK."

"We'll leave you be now, shall we?" Grogan said. He didn't respond. Both sets of footsteps began to move away.

"Hey, before you go," Both sets of footsteps stopped. "Can we loose the restraints now?" A pause.

"I guess." Doctor Ryman said. Rogers put his legs over the edge of the bed furthest from them. His toes couldn't reach the floor, but he couldn't be far off.

"Hey, steady there." Grogan put in. "Don't hurt yourself." He smiled.

"Ma'am, I can fall much further than this can possibly be without hurting myself. It can't be over a couple of feet." He pushed off the bed. It was only a few inches down. "See?" He reached for the head of the bed, metal rails, ran his hand down the nearest bed leg and set his water down next to it. "Same principles as night ops. If you put something down, put it down next to something you can feel." He ran his hand along the mattress, away from the head of the bed. "I have the neck strap."

"OK, pull the part under the mattress out." He pulled. The strap slid out easily. She must have undone it on the other side. He threw the end back across the bed.

"Next one?"

"Yep, go ahead." It steadied him to do even this little thing, just to be able to use his hands.

"You adapt fast, Captain." Grogan said as he stood up from pulling the last strap free.

"I'm a commando, ma'am. It goes with the territory."

"Captain," The doctor began. Rogers looked up at him, well, picked his head up in the doctor's direction. "I'll see you for treatment in about ten hours." Rogers nodded.

"OK."

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