So tired...

Groaning as he stumbled, the dark haired man collided with a nearby wall, a metallic clang echoing through the dark street after the union. His body was refusing to co-operate. The muscles already weakened from the long journey he'd forced it to trek and his limbs were beginning to fail him; giving out or trembling with use.

He almost snarled at the prospect, irritated by his own bodily weaknesses. He'd been trained not to hurt, but now all he could feel was the pain radiating from every muscle and the stinging agony each gash on his body bled out to his nerves. He couldn't help but be aware of the screaming in his head, and the conflict behind his eyes, but he fought not to be.

He couldn't let it affect him. He couldn't let the past few days toy with his mind any longer, or they'd wipe him – like they'd done so many times before. He retained enough to know that being wiped wasn't something he wanted, no matter how obediently he climbed onto the chair.

Wipe him and start again.

Shaking his head to clear the memory, the lean man used the only muscle that would obey him – the strong silver forcing his body away from brick and back onto its own feet. He staggered; stomach churning before he managed a few wobbly steps forward, bile rising in his throat from the movement.

Keep moving soldier, he commanded his mind, hating when it shrunk back in cowardice. It knew what came next. He'd gotten away from the scene and from the blonde man who always had warmth in his eyes – now, now all he had to do was care for the wounds.

And what a plentiful supply he had of those.

Grunting, blue eyes lifted and scoped out the area, ensuring he was alone before he slumped against the wall yet again. Blood dripped from the tips of his fingers, creating a rhythmic beat with every drop that hit the ground. It was a haunting melody but it was one he knew well, and with every drip he could feel his strength waning.

Find a doctor. Heal yourself. Continue moving.

Find a doctor. Heal yourself.

Find a doctor.

With new determination, he stood again, strong and tall without human weaknesses to hold him back. He had a mission, something to give him the strength he needed to continue and he was going to make use of it. Stumbling awkwardly, quite like a new born colt, he tried to gather his bearings once again, shaking his head to clear the last remnants of restraint that lingered.

He needed a doctor, and one that would stay quiet – not that they would be able to tell anyone about him if they had a bullet through their eye. Snorting in what could have been amusement, the man stalked forward, still uncertain but not falling against the nearest surface like he had before.

He needed a doctor, and he was in the middle of Washington. It would be almost too easy to find one.