#hydra!reader

You’re on a stakeout mission with the Winter Soldier. This is your first mission. You’re fresh out of training. The Winter Soldier is your mentor for this mission. If you don’t complete your mission successfully, then he has to jump in and take over for you.

The Winter Soldier stares at you from a few feet behind you, his head slightly tilted. He quickly notices that your stance is completely off. He walks closer to you and puts his hands on your hips, which startled you.

“What- What are you doing?” You stuttered, looking back at him.

“Fixing your stance.” The Winter Soldier says.

He kicks your feet apart with his foot, making you stand shoulder width apart. Then his metal hand grasps your jaw, making you look forward at the target.

“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says.

“Ok.” You say nervously.

He lets go of your jaw and his hand roam your body freely. You should stop him before it escalates to something else, but you don’t want to. You just let him touch you. If you’re being honest, you’re loving the way he’s touching you. His hands go lower and lower till his hands are at your tactical belt. He unbuckles and then he unbuttons and unzip your tactical pants. He pulls down your tactical pants and panties to your knees. A shiver went up your spine when you heard the sound of him unbuckling his tactical belt. He pulls down his tactical pants just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You gasped when his cock touched your clit.

“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says again.

You let out a shaky breath and nodded. He lines his cock at your entrance and thrusts it inside of you in one thrust.

“Oh my god!” You moaned loudly.

“What did I say?” The Winter Soldier asks.

“Eyes- Eyes forward and f-focus.” You stuttered.

“Хорошая девочка.” He praises.

His thrusts start off a decent and fast pace. The sound of skin slapping is echoing in the empty room of the abandoned building you two are in for the stakeout. His hands hold onto your hips with a tight grip. You’re sure that there’s going to be hand shaped bruises on your hips by the time you two are done. You’re holding your gun at the target with a shaky grip. Your head falls against your arm, breathy moans leaving your lips. He grabs your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanks your head up. His free hand holds your hands still, helping you hold the gun.

“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says in your ear.

That’s when the target comes into shot. You put your finger on the trigger, but not pulling it.

“Pull the trigger.” The Winter Soldier orders softly in your ear.

You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the trigger, shooting the target with ease. Then the gun fell out of your hands to the ground. Your hands gripping onto the window ledge.

“Хорошая девочка.” The Winter Soldier praises.

That’s when his thrusts became relentless. His hand that’s holding onto your ponytail pulls you upright so your back is against the front of his body. He tilts your head just enough for him to have access to your neck, marking you up.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned.

His metal hand wraps around your throat and gave your throat a squeeze. Not hard enough to cut off your oxygen supply. Just enough for you to feel it. His free finds its way to your clit, giving it a pinch before rubbing it. You squeaked and bucked your hips against his hand.

“It’s like you wanted this.” He says softly in your ear.

You’d be lying if you said no. You actually did want it. You just didn’t expect it to happen during a mission.

“Tell me you wanted this.” He almost growls, slightly tightening his metal hand on your throat.

“I wanted this!” You moaned out. “I wanted it so bad!” You moaned.

“I fucking knew it.” He growls.

His fingers rub your clit faster, your orgasm building up quickly. You can feel it deep inside of you. Your legs began to shake. You’re just about there. He can sense it too.

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks.

“Yes! Oh my god! Yes!” You moaned.

“Cum.” He says softly.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth falling agape as you came. His thrusts never faltered as his own orgasm was building up. A low growl leaves his lips as he cums inside of you. His thrusts come to a slow stop. His metal hand remains around your throat and his right hand remains in between your legs for a moment before he pulls out and lets go of you. You can feel his cum leaking out of your pussy and dripping down your inner thighs. You pulled your panties and tactical pants back up and so did he. As soon as you turned around, his metal hand grasps your throat again, not choking you this time and yanks you towards him and kisses you. The kiss was a mixture of roughness and passion.

“Consider this a reward.” He says.

“Yes, sir.” You replied submissively.

1951 , november 16th | “y/n karpov” , eight years old | subject number : n/a

you and your father had a weird relationship , nothing you two did as a “family” could be classified as normal . his job couldn’t even be classified as normal , not that you actually knew what it was . normal fathers would take their kids out to play ball or go shopping , yours took you to shooting ranges where he taught you how to shoot different guns and how to take them apart then put them right back together . normal fathers would come home after late days working and embrace their kids while eating dinner together at the table , yours took you to work with him and let you sit in the corner while he did . . whatever he did .

you didn’t know what you father did but you knew it wasn’t good , you could always hear screams and cries echoing from the halls of the cold building . the only part you liked was the traveling , every few months your dad would pack you guys some bags and you’d just disappear for however long he chose . sometimes it was for a week , two the longest you’ve gone was a few months , he always had the same excuse — “ work has us moving around but we’ll be back home soon . ”

you never knew your mom , never asked about her either , you only did once whenever you were little which led to a huge “demonstration” from your father . he led you to a room full of women , all lined up , perfectly , not a hair out of place , they looked beautiful and deadly all at once . the woman was terrifying , Melina , your father called her . she tried to have a nice face around you but that only made her scarier , especially when you saw what the girls did , what she made them do . “ your mom worked for them . a dangerous woman she is , I took you away from her . had to keep you safe . ” since then you’ve never asked about her again . not if it was going to make you return to the “red room” , it was a stupid and childish name that you had made up but it was fitting . the halls were always covered by red , whether it have been due to crappy lighting or the crimson from someone’s body .

today was just like any other trip , your father packed your bags and you two took off . you always came back to your penthouse in Kazen , the place was nice , not to much the people but the place was comforting and cozy . you were homeschooled so disappearing was never a problem , you just did work on the plane or while your father worked . “ afternoon Mr. Karpov . ” the guard stood up tall , the chill from the Siberian weather , he gave a smile in your direction , voice and expression softening upon seeing you — stuffed animal held tightly in one hand while you held your math homework in the other . “ Ms. Karpov . ” you gave him a wave before the doors opened , your father wrapped his arm around your shoulder , pulling the heavy coat you wore over you a bit more with a small tug .

“ now I have to work for a few hours but you’re gonna finish your math homework . then after that you can watch tv , can you do that for me ? ” he’d crouched down to your height , you were barley eight years old so you weren’t necessarily tall . his hand rubbed lightly against your cheek as you nodded excitedly by his question . you weren’t allowed to watch tv often , your dad always mumbled about American propaganda making its way to the Russian screens which made your eyes roll . you didn’t care about America or the war , though it had ended , the tvs were still filled with hatred . you learned about it obviously because you had to but the war only caused you and your father more anguish . you never believed any of the things you saw on tv or the flyers that were up in other countries or cities , you only listened to your father . he was all you had and the only one you wanted to make proud .

1953 , june 12th | “y/n karpov” , ten years old | subject number : n/a

next was the “cold war” . a weird name . the war been going on for almost six years , you’d really only realize three years ago that it was real and it wasn’t just some thing that conspiracy theorist were talking about . your father’s work started to ramp up in the past two years , your trips lessening more and more and your ultimate holding place being Siberia . you hated it , Siberia unlike Kazan didn’t have seasons , it was almost always cold — freezing . the spring and summer were short , they were warm but a fleeting moment . your father was always working , he never came to see you anymore , it was annoying and you were getting upset .

the guards that shadowed you were nice but they were never your father . they couldn’t be him . they couldn’t give you the same love that your father could , why did he rip it away from you like that ? what had you done to deserve it ? you didn’t upset him , you always did you work , you never asked questions . but he stole it from you anyways , deprived you of the one thing that kept you going . your studying got lazier , your schoolwork got sloppier and sloppier , you even stopped enjoying tv , you’d just stare at the walls and groan and complain about being left alone to guards that did nothing but mumble and apologize .

“ can I go to the bathroom ? dad’s not back , I’ll be back soon . pop in and out , promise . ” she spoke to the guard across the room , he was supposed to follow you everywhere but you didn’t want him to follow you there . it was invasive . you stood up , heading towards the door and he went to turn , to follow behind you but you held your hand up . by technicality you had some authority , not much but some . “ I’ll be fine , you don’t need to follow me , it’s just to the bathroom , right ? ” the guard was skeptical but let you go , however you went everywhere but the bathroom . heading down a empty hallway , guards were everywhere but you just managed to catch a time where they weren’t on duty . perhaps it was a shift change or someone just wasn’t were they were supposed to be .

your eyes came across a lab , through the window of the door you could see your father standing before a guy . his face was covered by the man’s body but he was quite obviously uncomfortable . he was strapped down to the table , body shaking and moving uncontrollably as if he was trying to escape . your father yelled , you rarely heard him yell but he was basically screeching at the man before him . you felt bad , your father sounded terrifying and then he hit him . hard . your eyes widened as you watched the treatment the man was receiving , he already looked disheveled , eyes drained of color and hope .

then the machine started and everything just got worse and worse . soon came his screams , the screams you had gotten accustomed to hearing because you didn’t truly think they were real or filled with such pain . a gasp escaped your mouth and your hands clasped over it quite quickly — eyes widening even more after you recognized your action . everyone in the room stopped , the buzzing sound from whatever machine on the man stopped and everyone turned to look at you , finally you were able to see the man’s face ; it was odd , you saw a little bit of yourself in him . you didn’t have time to stare at him because soon you locked eyes with your father and ran .

“ dad , I’m sorry , I’m sorry . I didn’t mean to walk around , I didn’t see anything , I swear ! I didn’t see anything ! ” you’d begged and pleaded for the last hour , asking for his forgiveness . it was his fault anyways , has he not deprived you of the love you so desperately needed then you would have never have gone looking . you would have never tried to see anything at all , all you wanted was him to love you . “ I do everything for you . I do everything and yet you still manage to screw things up somehow . Was going to wait till you were older for this but it seems like now is a better time than ever . ” your father grumbled before grabbing you harshly by the arm . it was insufferable , terrible , the pain spread through your entire arm immediately . you pulled against him with every bit of strength you had , though it wasn’t a lot .

the punishment for your crime was spending time in a cell . it was cold , disgusting , absolutely grimy and fillies with the stench of blood . there was a bed that had basically been ripped to shreds , the door was completely solid and no matter how many times you banged on it and begged to be let free . he never listened , it was almost as if he didn’t care . he kept you in there for the rest of the day , didn’t visit or talk to you . any time you messed up , that would be your punishment , so you made sure not to mess up often because when you did it would be hell . you hated that cell , to the point where you couldn’t sleep with the lights off and door closed anymore — too dark , only one or the other .

1959 , february 17th | “y/n karpov” , sixteen years old | subject number : 43XX

stopped talking to your father after the first time he hit you . you’d yelled at him , finally broke after six years of silence and asked what he was keeping the “soldier” downstairs for . the war was over , there was no reason to harbor a man in their basement and he responded by slapping you so hard you were disoriented . your body fell to the floor , hand covering the warmth blooming on your cheek from the pure force he held behind the hit . “ when I tell you to stop talking , you stop talking . when I tell you to be good , you be good . why do you always have to disappoint me ? ” that was the last time to disappointed him before the testing started .

it was countless injections and being wired up to machines , every day , all day , you hated them . any time you tried to move and fight back it resulted in shocks . electro shock therapy as your father called it , they needed to get you ready and in shape . for what ? you’ve never known but if you hated this then you were worried for what was next . the therapy got worse and worse , to the point were they would shock you until you couldn’t think straight , couldn’t move your body without help and your eyes couldn’t stay open . your brain was mush , you didn’t remember much during those sessions or much that happened before or after them . just the pain , all you remembered was the pain . now it was your screams that filled the room and the hallways and instead of being outside , coloring , doing homework or watching tv , you were experiencing it and you hated it .

“ You share DNA with him . That soldier , you know that ? My blood , his blood — it all runs through those veins of yours . took it from him when we captured him . You are his child , just as much as you are mine . ” you didn’t understand what he was saying , the man in there was clearly older than you but not old enough to have kids , especially not for you to be sixteen , it didn’t make sense . how did you share DNA with him ? you wanted to ask but your mouth wouldn’t open , your eyes were barley keeping open but managed a struggle just to look at him .

“ do you remember the red room ? I took you there whenever you were younger . one of those women , was lucky . the rest of them have their ovaries removed but that one , she got to keep them , for just a pinch longer than the others did . to have our child . our creation . unfortunately Barnes missed the birth of his first child but I didn’t . I was there for you . I will always be there for you , my experiment . ” your father was just rambling at this point , it didn’t make much sense . experiment ? you were an experiment ? a test subject ? for what ? “ why ? ” you just barley managed to croak out , your voice was hoarse , throat dry and cracking .

“ the winter soldier . he can topple governments , countries , win wars , our greatest weapon against our opposing forces . however where one goes right , there is always room for improvement . for more . ” now it made more sense . he was a power hungry bastard . your father was the worst man alive but you were truly his daughter . perhaps even his favorite . with the way he talked you were positive he had more , you’ve never met them , probably never would if you couldn’t get off this damn table .

almost as if he read your mind , your arms and legs were unhooked from the table , you couldn’t move them on your own but it was still a little bit freeing . only for a few moments , it was quickly replaced by you being hauled into a chair within a chamber . that was the first time you’ve ever witnessed the cyro chamber . it was colder than any winter in Siberia . the chill never left , even after the seasons passed and the years went by , the chill remained but you were barely conscious enough to remember what season it was — to even remember what seasons were .

2003 , march 9th | y/n barnes karpov , “Scylla” , sixteen years old physically , mentally ?? | subject number : 4384

you had been let out of the cyro chamber a few times , at least six times through out the years . they tried to disorient you , perhaps thinking that it would keep you from remembering where you were and what time period you had been in and honestly it worked . you could never understand what year you were in until it was too late and you were back with the uncomfortable chill . you tried your best to prove that you weren’t going to be a good investment , that you would fail in the moment of danger but with the “super soldier serum” (as they called it) running through your veins you were quite the opposite . you were strong , stronger than the average teenager , with enough strength to take in a man in his average thirties and forties even if he worked out — they tested it . young men , old men , each came in and out of the training room and as much as your body shook at the sight of them and the thought of hurting someone when you were told to attack , you did . biting just like a lap dog .

very rarely , whenever you and the soldier were awake at the same time , they’d let you train together . see who could hold their own the longest , it was always him . no matter how many times they’d run your two up against each other , he reminded you that you were nothing more than a child and it was so insulting . you trained hard and long , went through suffering and pain and torture just to be treated like a child and worthless by “the soldier” .

your hands gripped at his arm , the metal one holding you down by your throat to the ground , cutting off your air supply and keeping your body pinned to the floor . he didn’t feel a thing whenever your nails scratched against his silver arm , an attempt to rip it off or get it off of your throat , anything to get you to be able to breath again . “ off . winter , six . scylla , none . ” he finally pulled off of you , allowing you to take in greedy gasps of air . your arms flailed helplessly as you forced yourself upwards onto your feet .

your hand rung your own neck , feeling at the injury that was certainly to bruise . there was so mumbling from the soldiers behind the two of you before your “father” spoke once more . “ you two are done for the day . take them back . scylla to the chair , we have something else to do . ” the brainwashing had embedded itself in you . they didn’t need to drag you anymore unless your body was weakened but you had enough strength to walk and if you were being honest you hated their touch being on you so you would have forced yourself up anyways .

they say you down , back in the chair , usually you’d wake up here with no memories of what had happened before , only that you needed to follow the directions of the men before you and your father was the only one who truly cared about you . it was ridiculous but you couldn’t find yourself to deviate from what they said . they had strapped you down once more , body pushed backwards and the edge of the wall was your only view before your father graced your line of vision . “ we were trying to wait until she had developed further to do this but we’ve run into some complications . so what better time than the present , eh ? ” he held up a freaky looking vial , it was obvious that there was blood inside but it had mixed with something you couldn’t place .

“ inside this is the blood of our most powerful assassin , winter is good but everyone needs a femme fatale , don’t they ? but you , you my creation , my child . you will be a mix of everything great — everything good to have ever come out of this organization . mixed all into one , my hydra . ” this is what he meant all those years ago , not that you remember , when he called you an experiment . you were a mix of everything great and the only hope was that you would come out even better than everything you had been mixed with .

2016 , april 12th | y/n barnes karpov , “Scylla” , eighteen years old physically , mentally ?? | subject number : 4384

Bucky Barnes . the Winter Soldier had escaped and with him he took down Hydra , not all of it but most of it . he disappeared off the face of the earth then , you couldn’t find him , at least not for a little bit . bucharest , romania , the area felt familiar to you , every country did , as if you’d been there before . ever so slowly everything had been coming back to you , the torture , the murder , the pain . everything hurt and it never got better . your handler , at least the one you had been left with , Alexander Pierce was dead — murdered by Nick Fury . a subject was never supposed to be on their own , wander alone with no place to go but you and one objective in mind . find the winter soldier .

unfortunately following him through romania led to problems , one star spangled man , a flying bird man and a cat man . . . what had superheroes nowadays come to ? “ uhh cap , I got a child following you and Bucky down the building . ” Captain America , you’d heard of him a little during the wars and whenever they’d allow you to see what America was trying to produce in respond to the winter soldier — he was a specimen in the minds of Hydra but a joke of your own . Bucky and Steve were on foot , running across the roof of a building and you followed closely behind them , you didn’t think you’d be seen but you also didn’t account for a man with wings to following you .

you never actually engaged in the fight , didn’t need to tire yourself out for no reason , besides they didn’t think of you as a threat yet and you would have liked to keep it that way . that was until you all reached the underpass , you’d run up on them just as Bucky had been disarmed and thrown off of his motorcycle , his only way of transportation . the man dressed as a cat was seconds way from clawing the man’s face off but was thrown away by the strength of Captain America . it was intriguing to watch him fight in real time however he wasn’t your concern . without sparing him another glance you reached Bucky’s side , sirens and ringing from cop cars starting to filled the area . “ there’s a kid here ! a kid ! be careful , would you ? ” Steve pleaded to the cops , your eyes hadn’t left Bucky as you stood in front of him , mocking his movements , kneeling down on the ground and putting your hands behind your head .

“ long time no see , Отец . ” Bucky’s eyes widened at your words . he was expecting a “soldat”or maybe for you to try and kill him , force him to pay for the crimes he might have committed against you that he just didn’t remember . the cops were barely gentle with you , forcing your face into the ground with such harshness that everyone there turned their head with guilt and disgust . “ be careful with her , she’s still a kid . ” Sam spoke up , he hadn’t talked much but at least he had the balls to say something about that . Bucky’s eyes never left your , even as they dragged him away , he wouldn’t let it happen . when they placed him in a glass cage , you just in handcuffs (what a mistake) , he still never looked away . not until they forced him away from you .

“ what are you doing here ? ” Tony Stark . he wasn’t a cop , barely a S.H.I.E.L.D agent so he shouldn’t have been interrogating you but they allowed him to — god only knows why . you just looked behind him , the two way glass , trying to figure out who was back there . “ why were you following Barnes and Roger’s ? ” you could answer both questions but didn’t want to , he didn’t give you any reason to . “ come on kid , you gotta give me something- ” “ you talk too much . ” your eyes met his for once , getting a ticked off chuckle from his lips . this man was ego and pride , perhaps if you could knock him down then you’d be allowed another interrogator . “ where is . . . Barnes , I want to speak to him . ” Tony shook his head at your statement , he most likely took it as a question but you weren’t asking . “ I’m the one asking the questions here , alright ? You can see him whenever he gets done with his psych eval and his questioning . ”

you shook your head and tried to stand , the handcuffs holding you to the table being the only thing keeping you down . “ no . now . I need to go now . ” instead of answering you , Tony walked out , probably joining his friends behind the two way glass . you hated being treated like a child , being ignored , being disrespected .

Tony entered the room with the two way glass , glancing towards Romanoff . “ I don’t know what’s wrong with that kid . she’s not even afraid she just- stares , it’s freaky . are we sure she’s even real ? not something somebody built in their lab ? ” she rolled her eyes at him, “ not everyone had the money to do that Stark . you are right though , something about this kid just isn’t right . how did she know where to find Barnes ? ” before she could get an answer to her rhetorical question the sound of you breaking the handcuffs that connected you to the table , you approached the two way glass , without knowing it looking Natasha directly in the eyes . “ I want to see Barnes . now . ”

Rats have many advantages over humans. Their small size allows them entrance into worlds much more intimate than man’s, and to escape the clutches of many foul ends. They can withstand the dark and damp, eat food deemed “rotten” and “beyond human consumption” without getting ill.

Unconsciously, you weighed the pros and cons of each species and decided to abandon your own (albeit unconsciously). Your limbs began to shrink, your face elongated, and all over fur sprouted, already coarse and grimy. It matched the walls.

These cinderblock walls were all you’d ever known as home. Sure, you often went on excursions to the lab, but you were always returned here. Your stack of books in one corner, your little nest in the other, made of old rags and straw, kept you warm enough. The mildew covered walls were secure. When you were here, you were left alone. 

Well, usually alone. Sometimes the same people who escorted you to and from the lab left someone in there. They called it the Asset.

The first time you met, the men had dumped it in your cell, ragged and bleeding. It was painfully clear that it was exhausted and starving, but because it was never ordered to rest, nor given permission to eat, it remained standing. The men apparently decided to leave it like that, to see how long it would follow orders over self-preservation. They left increasingly enticing food at its feet.

This presented an opportunity to you, the little creature hidden in its nest. The ever-growing pile of food remained completely untouched, save for the bugs skittering over it to feast.

You were hungry—you always were—but also terrified that the men would be angry with you if you messed up their “experiment.” So you did what anyone in your position would have done.

You ate the bugs. You figured that, since the men had left the food for the Asset, they wouldn’t mind—maybe they’d even appreciate—if you kept it safe from the bugs.

The Asset watched, now with jealousy, nor pity, but with hunger and distance. It stayed alert, at attention, not even daring to address the many injuries he had. Blood pooled at his feet, seeping into the cracks between stones.

After two days, Alexander Pierce came by. You’d met before, and knew to stay out of his way. The less he noticed you, the better. 

“Why is it standing there?” he asked the man beside him.

“We, Rumlow and I, are trying to see when—or if—it’ll break.”

“That’s a terrible waste of resources,” Pierce scoffed. “It won’t be healed in time for the next phase at this rate. Whose idea did you say this was?”

“Rumlow and Carl,” replied the man. Pierce raised an eyebrow, but let it slide.

“Of course it was Rumlow,” Pierce shook his head.

He ordered the Asset to stand down and tend to its injuries. From the way the Asset’s eyes darted to the food and back to Pierce, it was clear that it wanted permission. 

“Once you’re not bleeding everywhere, yes,” Pierce granted, then left.

The moment it had properly bandaged itself, the Asset hunched protectively over the heap of food and began eating like a starving dog. The food was gone within minutes. The Asset spent a few minutes throwing up afterwards. Its digestive system couldn’t handle the shock of so much rich food suddenly appearing. For a brief moment, it thought about eating the chunks, but he wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

Fighting to keep its eyes open, the Asset started to drag itself towards your nest. It didn’t see you, you were hidden too well. As it loomed over you, you transformed into the loudest, scariest animal you had ever seen—a raccoon—and hissed in warning. It scrambled to the other end of the cell.

“I’m sorry,” it whispered, putting up its arms—one metal, one flesh—to shield its face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” it kept repeating, swapping through English, German, Russian, and back again. It pulled its legs up to its chest, guarding its belly.

You recognized the defensive curl and, no longer sensing danger, your hackles slowly lowered. Concern for the Asset took over and you slunk towards it, now in the form of a cat.

You headbutted its hand and it flinched, but lifted its head to look at you with terror-filled eyes. It was just another scared animal, like you.

Its hands were still shaking, its whole body tense, but it reached out and gave you a hesitant pat on the head. You began to purr almost immediately and leaded up into its hand.

“Where’d you come from?” it asked in a shockingly quiet, gentle voice.

“Miao,” you replied and trotted over to your nest. Hesitantly, it followed, and promptly collapsed into the minimal comfort the nest provided. Lying on its side, it kept its back against the wall. You curled up against its chest, still purring as you nuzzled yourself snugly into the warmth it provided.

Muffled voices from the other side of the door woke you. You tried very hard not to move or stir, lest you attract attention to yourself or to the Asset.

“Ha!” came one voice, Rumlow’s. “Look, it thinks it’s a person.”

“Aw,” said the other with mock sorrow. “I hate to break this up,” he laughed, not even bothering to hide the cruelty and glee in his voice.

“Good Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Rumlow shouted as he flung the door open. His partner approached the nest as you jumped out of his way. The asset was pushing itself to its hands and knees, but they grabbed it by a fistful of hair. Rumlow, now crouched where you had been mere moments before, wrenched the Asset’s face up towards his own.

“Have a good rest, Princess?” he asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. It took the Asset a long time to answer questions; it was always afraid of tricks, or that a wrong answer would mean pain.

They dragged it out of your cell, and you didn’t see the Asset again for a long, long time. So long that you began to wonder if it was even real, or if you’d dreamed up all that. If feeling warm and safe was, itself, just a dream.

After an especially grueling session in the lab, which left you tired and sore, you were surprized to find that your cell was not empty. The Asset had returned. It was pretty badly beaten up, lying on your pile of musty straw. It watched you warily, but was too weary to lift its head.

You stood in the corner opposite to turn into a cat, the same cat as all those years before. You wondered why he didn’t recognize you.

“Miao.”

No response; you crept closer. Still nothing. A few steps closer and it shifted away ever so slightly, which caused it to grimace and glance at its abdomen. 

Both hands clutched at its belly, desperately and vainly trying to stop the blood gushing out and into the straw. Its breath was fast and shallow. Its eyes were unfocused, darting around the room trying to find something—anything—to make it stop. Its long, greasy hair was matted and soaked with sweat.

You leapt backwards, returning to your natural, human state to bang on the door.

“Hey!” you screamed. “Hey! We need help in here! Please! A doctor—bring a doctor, please! It needs help!”

One of the guards stationed outside heard you and started walking towards the lab at a leisurely pace. 

You knelt at the Asset’s side  again, and gently peeled its hands away with one hand and snatched a rag from the nest with the other.

In the split second before you pressed the rag into its wound, you saw its face lighting by two shades, from a vaguely pinkish white into a deathly pale.

“Please, no,” you started whispering as you stuffed rag after rag in, keeping as much pressure on it as you could. “Please don’t die. Please don’t let me lose the one good thing in my life. Please don’t die. Please don’t take away the only kind person I have. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”

The blood did not stop. More and more came gushing out. The Asset’s eyes fell shut and wouldn’t open, no matter how much or how loudly you called to it.

After what felt like an eternity of stuffing rags and straw into its gash, it finally slowed to almost nothing. You kept your hands pressed tight, although you were exhausted and simply wanted to sleep, and you didn’t stop begging it to wake up, to live.

“What seems to be the problem?” a doctor said as he looked up from a clipboard. “Oh God.” He took stock of the room quickly. 

“You,” he said to one of the guards. “Go get Dr. Hendricks, tell her to bring two large bore IVs—one of saline, one of O negative. Now! Go!”

The doctor pushed you aside and went to work. A small army of medics flooded the room, along with Dr. Hendricks. They managed to stop the bleeding, then sterilized the wound and stitched the Asset up.

None of them noticed the child standing in the corner, soaked in blood up to their elbows, all down the front of their shirt, knees painted red. 

You pressed yourself deeper into the corner, out of the way, shaking with fear. 

Once the medics began to trickle out, you inched forward, just close enough to check if Asset was breathing. You collapsed out of relief when you saw the shallow-but-steady rise and fall of his chest.

That night, like the first time you’d met, oh-so long ago, you took up the form of a cat and curled up against Asset’s chest, close enough to feel its breathing. A couple of times, you had woken up, frightfully sure that it wasn’t breathing. It always was.

Asset stayed asleep for almost two days. The doctors had left a box of supplies, whether out of concern or carelessness, it was hard to tell. Either way, you took full advantage of its contents and changed the bandage every dozen hours. You also disinfected various other cuts and injuries.

“Hey, look at this,” one of the guards said.

“Ha!” Rumlow laughed. “It’s like the kid is playing with a doll.”

After you had finished addressing its injuries and your own, you cleaned off the blood as best you could. Then, all you could do was wait and watch. You sat, staring at it and willing it to wake up.

A few hours later, Rumlow brought in a tray of food-adjacent substances.

“Rise and shine, Princess!” he shouted as he entered the cell. “It’s feeding time. Wake up. Get up!” He yelled. “I’m talking to you!” He nudged Asset’s abdomen with his foot, not gently. Asset didn’t react in the slightest.

“Huh. They must’ve given it one hell of a drug,” Rumlow laughed to himself, then slammed the tray down and left.

You knew it wasn’t for you. You knew that Asset needed it more than you. You knew all that. But the hunger. The hunger felt like it was eating you from inside.

You knew what would stop it. And it was right there.

You meant to save some for Asset—you really did—but this was the first food you had seen in three days. Who knew the next time they’d remember to feed you! Maybe next time, Asset would be awake, and need it all. 

Really and truly, you tried to save him some, but the tray was licked clean before you fully realized it was empty.

Luckily, Rumlow came back the next day with more. This time, his yelling was enough to wake Asset.

“Ah!” He laughed, then instructed you, “Make sure this one doesn’t choke.”

You pushed the tray towards Asset and sat next to it. It mumbled something, a string of numbers over and over. Its skin felt hot to the touch and its eyes were unfocused, drifting around the cell. But it was awake.

“Asset?” You laid a hand on its shoulder. “Can you sit up?”

“Seargent… five five seven oh… Buchannan…” it mumbled, then trailed off into a shudder that shook its whole body.

“Do you want water?” you asked.

“Yeah–yes, yes water,” it started to sit up, but let out a pitifully small cry of pain and fell back. You looped an arm under its head and elevated it while holding a small cup to its mouth. 

“There you go,” you said as the cup drained.

Its eyes started to drift closed, but it snapped them back open, managed to focus on you, and said “Thank you.”

“Oh... Yeah,” you said after a moment. “Are you hungry?”

Asset nodded and you looked over the contents of the tray. There was some rock-solid bread, a bowl of stew with overcooked vegetables, and another cup filled with … maybe grape juice?

You managed to break off a couple chunks of bread and set them into the stew. Hopefully they would soften up a bit. 

“Let’s sit you up a bit,” you said. “Against  the wall. Does that sound okay?”

But Asset was out again. 

He stayed with you for a long time, a week or two, during which someone brought food every day. Asset’s fever broke after a few days. At first, you were thrilled as it inched back toward health, but then you realized that the sooner it recovered, the sooner they’d take it away.

Every night, you slept curled up between Asset and the wall, either as a cat, or as your natural, human-child self. It curled around you, acting as a barrier between you and the outside world. You were both scared that the next time you opened your eyes, the other would be gone, just a figment of a tormented mind.

You read to him. The stack of books let you escape for a little while. Sitting next to each other, you paused in the middle of a sentence.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you again or if I’ll be alone here forever.”

“I’ll come back, kid,” it reassured you. Asset leaned its head back against the wall and closed its eyes,“Promise.”

Even though you both knew it wasn’t a promise Asset had any way of keeping, promises were comforting.

“I almost stopped thinking you were real,” you told Asset. “There was such a long time before you came back. Do you remember?”

“No,” it said after thinking for a while. “Sorry. I… I think they take away my memories.”

“It’s okay,” you rested your head on his right shoulder and closed your eyes. “It was a very long time ago.”

In the morning, you both startled awake from the rattle of the door. Two men came in and dragged Asset away while half a dozen more surrounded it, fully armed. 

“No!” you screamed, then lunged at them, transforming rapidly from cat to raccoon to dog—any form you thought might scare even one of them.

A man stepped forward and tased you, which brought out a cry of pain. Not from the taser shock itself, but rather the pain of not saying goodbye, of not knowing if it was forever, or just a day.

They left you lying on the floor of your cell as they slammed the door in your face. Sobs wracked your chest as you curled into yourself. Your cell suddenly felt too empty, leaving you vulnerable, like exactly what you were—a child, alone in the hands of monsters.

Once you had cried out every tear inside of you you sat up and started getting your cell back in order. You restacked the books, piled up the straw which was scattered all over. In the corner, where you’d been peacefully sleeping just a half hour before, you noticed something odd. Tucked in between two stones and hidden with a handful of straw was a small, black thing. You pried it out carefully and rotated it in your hands. A pocket knife. Scratched onto the stone were the words “reAl” and “bACk.”

He was real. He was here. And he would be back.

You tucked the knife back into its hiding spot and piled straw over it.

In the lab, you were given challenges. They’d give you a list of animals, all ones that you’d touched before, and you would have to take up their form. Over and over. For hours. Sometimes they turned off the lights and threw in a new creature. In pitch darkness, you had to find it, subdue it, and mimic its form by the time the lights turned back on. You had quite a few scars from those challenges.

For the past few weeks, the scientists had been introducing multiple different types of venomous snakes, especially small ones. Reptiles weren’t the hardest to transform yourself into, but they were nowhere as easy as mammals.

One day, in the middle of a challenge, a realization hit you. 

They were training you to kill. They had always been training you to kill and obey. From your very first days, learning shapes and numbers, this had always been their goal. You were gonna be their pet killer forever. Or at least the rest of your life. That’s what they did to Asset. They got it, trained it, and now they were keeping it forever.

You tried not to let it show—there were a half-dozen scientists eagerly noting every minute shift in your body—but your concentration slipped, and you reverted to a human.

“Ah!” you hissed as your bones snapped back into place. You held your jaw as it fused back together. Shivers ran down your spine as you readjusted to being a warm-blooded creature once more.

Groans resounded from the gallery as they hurriedly jotted “PT” in the results section of their notes. Only a partial transformation. And not even an intentional one at that.

Well. No food tonight.

In frustration, you took the form of a hawk and darted around the room before returning to human and demanding one more chance.

“Alright,” came the muffled reply from beyond the plexiglass windows. “Try that one—a Black Mamba—try that again.”

You nodded, shaking feeling back into your arms and legs. Why did they have to pick a snake? The lack of limbs made the animals more simple, but the transformation much harder. 

Did they have to pick a snake?

Despite your exhaustion, you had a successful transformation. When you got back to your cell there were two food trays. One, as a reward for a good day’s work, and the other to feed the confused-looking super soldier sitting in your cell.

“Asset!” you cried with elation, immediately rushing forward and giving it a hug. It flinched and shifted away, but once it realized that you weren’t trying to hurt it, it held still. Like an obedient killer, it looked to Rumlow, who was stationed outside the cell, asking for instructions. Rumlow just laughed, and said something about brains in blenders to the other guard on duty.

“Are you okay?” you asked, stepping back. “Asset?”

“There was…” it trailed off, eyebrows furrowed. It looked like an innocent child who had mixed up dreams and reality, but was trying to make sense of both. 

“Look at me,” you told it calmly, although you were panicking inside. “Do you know me?”

It looked long and hard, but ultimately shook its head.

“I’m sorry,” it said. “A-am I supposed to?”

“No. Yeah. It’s. It’s fine,” you said, trying to sound genuine and yet keep the tears from falling. You nodded as you turned away to face the wall. You kept nodding as you swallowed a couple of times to keep your emotions down.

Asset was right; they took away its memories. That’s fine. It can make new ones.

They’ll just steal the new ones, too. You could just keep making new memories, start over every time they took its memories away.

What if they take yours? Then you’ll be an empty shell. Neither of you would know the other. You’d be alone forever and so would Asset.

There was only one way to get a happy ending for either of you. You had to get out. 

When Rumlow came by to drag away the Soldat, you were ready. You had given Asset the knife it left last time, which it tucked into its boot, lumped the straw over some books to make it look like a creature was curled up in it, then turned into a tick and hopped on Asset’s shirt sleeve.

As expected, no one gave a second’s thought as to where you were—that lump must be the kid. They all saw what they expected to see.

“C’mon, Princess,” Rumlow said as he grabbed one of Asset’s arms and hoisted it to its feet. Asset still had that far away, confused look, but followed directions.

They brought it—both of you—down a long hallway, past the labs, and through a maze of corridors. You looped around under a sewer grate, and up to an underground service entrance. All of them were silent, save the thud of boots on the ground.

The room you finally stopped in had bars, and a terrifying chair. A technician fiddled with some parts of the chair, reading different screens and adjusting wires.

They pulled off Asset’s shirt and shoved him into the chair. You turned into a fly and perched high up on a wall. Something told you that you needed to see what was about to happen, but you didn’t want to.

The technician shifted to working on Asset’s arm, which had been damaged. Without warning, Asset flung him across the room. Immediately, the guards had their weapons trained on it.

At that moment, Pierce walked in, completely unperturbed and motioned for them to lower their weapons.

“Mission report,” Pierce said to Asset. It didn’t react, just kept its eyes unfocused and brows furrowed. “Mission report, now.”

In response, Pierce slapped its face hard enough to snap its head to the side. 

“The man on the bridge,” Asset finally said. “Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

“I knew him.” It wasn’t a question, not quite. More like Asset was saying something it knew contradicted reality. 

“Your work has been a gift to mankind,” Pierce ignored Asset’s last statement and sat down, to be at eye level. “You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time.” Pierce went on, speaking about society and order and chaos and freedom, but neither you nor Asset listened.

“But I knew him.”

Pierce sighed, like a father who had tried, and failed, to impart wisdom on the younger generation.

“Prep him,” he said as he stood up.

“But sir,” objected one scientist, “He’s been out of cryofreeze for too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.”

Two men pushed Asset back into the chair, put in a mouthguard, secured arm clamps, and lowered a headpiece. A low buzzing filled the room, at first too low for human ears to detect, then built until the whole room thrummed with energy. It all ran though Asset’s head. It screamed, a desperate sound, muffled only by the mouthguard. Its limbs convulsed and rattled against the restraints.

It took all your willpower to just watch. Not do anything. You wanted to scream at Pierce and Rumlow as they left the room, wanted to tear the technicians apart, turn into a bear and crush them, or a dog and rip out their throats. But you knew how that would end. Virtually everyone in there was armed and even a bear can only withstand so many bullet holes.

So you stayed, a literal fly on the wall, and watched as they tortured Asset. You watched as it finally stopped. As they recited words from a little book, Asset's face went empty once more. They started to lead it back to the cell, so you hopped down and settled on its head.

Instead of dumping Asset and leaving, Rumlow kicked your nest.

“Get up,” he ordered to the empty straw.

Quickly, you darted into the nest and turned into a snake, making it look as though you’d been there the whole time. 

“Ah, gross!” Rumlow shouted, nudging you away with the tip of his boot. “Pierce wants you, and I am not carrying a snake. You’ve gotta pretend to be a human for a bit. Think you still know how?”

You turned into a human again and followed Rumlow out of the cell, down a hallway, up a staircase, and into an office. The walls were a dark wood and the floor was carpeted. Two chairs flanked a window, which Pierce was gazing out of. The city street below was quiet, only a few cars on the road at this time of night.

“Hello,” he turned towards you, then bent lower to get to your eye-level.

You said nothing in reply, only staring straight back into his eyes. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” he gestured to one of the green, overstuffed chairs and guided you into it. He then settled himself into the chair across from you.

“I have been watching you for quite a while,” he said. “You are quite promising. Your determination and commitment are… remarkable.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond, so you sat there, perfectly still. 

“Which is why,” he continued, “I have a request, a challenge.”

Okay, good. Challenges usually meant a reward at the end, if you were successful. And you were good at them. You nodded and Pierce went on.

“The Asset is about to leave for its next mission—” your hairs stood on end. Would it be gone before you got back?—“And I would like you to give it a little help.”

As far as you could remember this very room was the furthest from your cell you had ever been.

“Has anyone ever taken the time to explain to you what our goal is? Or even who we are?” He waved his hand to indicate that you were included in the “we.”

“No, sir,” you said, voice even and emotionless, like how Asset’s was after they took its memories.

“We—Hydra—are going to bring about a new world order, one where all our enemies are gone. That fairytale book you have, how does it end?”

“Happily ever after.”

“That’s exactly what we want. But the heroes always have some challenges before the end; there’s always some villain trying to make the world worse. There are villains in real life.”

Your mind flashed pictures of Rumlow grinning as Asset was electrocuted, the scientists stoically taking notes as one of their colleagues injected or extracted, or cut parts of you away. And finally, you saw the man in front of you. Pierce, the one overseeing it all. You almost killed him then and there. Only one thing restrained you: they still had Asset. 

Pierce interpreted the fury rattling your bones as shudders of fear.

“I know,” he said frankly, “It’s a disturbing lesson to learn, especially for a child. Trust me, I would not tell you all this if I did not need to. Sadly, you might be our last hope of stopping the villains. The rest of us have all tried, but even the Asset could not do it. Will you help him?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then agreed.

“Are you scared?” Pierce asked as he started walking you back to your cell—Rumlow had been called away at some point in you and Pierce’s conversation.

“Yes,” you admitted. Scared that you wouldn’t be able to escape with Asset. Scared that this “villain” really was worse than Hydra, as Pierce had told you.

“Good. Fear brings order. It means you won’t mess up.”

As the sun rose, you were provided with tactical gear, and more information on your target. 

Turns out, this mission was the reason that they had been training you with so many venomous snakes recently. The “villain” was a super-soldier, who was nearly impossible to kill. Hydra had a theory, though, that if he received multiple different types of venom in a short enough timeframe, even his enhanced body would be unable to overcome them all.

You and Asset were loaded into the back of a van, along with Rumlow and a few other heavily armed Hydra men.

“Why’s it staring at me?” whispered one man with unease disguised with irritation.

“It’s a creepy son of a bitch,” Rumlow replied. “Watch this—” then to Asset, “—Hey, Soldat! Look at me!”

Asset’s head snapped towards Rumlow. It awaited further instruction.

“Oh, nevermind,” Rumlow said, very casually. Asset turned its gaze back to the space directly in front of it. Coincidentally, the first agent was sitting there, right at eye level.

“Can’t we at least put its muzzle back on?” he asked.

“Nah,” Rumlow smiled. “They took it off to mess with the Captain.”

They released you and Asset into a large, flying building, giving you both free reign to do whatever it took to take down your target and keep the ship in the air. Asset was fed intel through a comm tucked in one ear.

It moved through the halls so quickly that you had to turn into a bird to keep up. Suddenly the hallway ended and you were on a metal walkway above large glass panels. Below those, far below, flowed a river—they’d called it the Potomac. Its brown, murky water looked like shining dirt from this height. A fall from here would break bones, at the very least.

You circled the room, looping around a large console in the center, and spotted the target. A man in a blue and red uniform was messing with a collection of wires and computer chips in that console. 

Two shots, both deflected by a shield, rang out. Asset took out a knife as it charged towards the target.

They fought. The whole time Asset was on the offensive, landing blow after blow, choreographing the whole dance. You knew this was your chance. You were supposed to kill the target while Asset kept him busy. That was the plan. After that, you would run away, somehow convince or even force Asset to run away with you.

But the target’s words stopped you. He was trying to talk to Asset. Not in the cruel, demeaning way Rumlow did, nor the commanding way of Pierce. More like how you spoke with it. As a friend, a person.

The situation, however, meant you might not have to do anything after all. Asset had pinned the target down and he wasn’t fighting back. Even as the ship started to crumble, flaming chunks of plastic and jagged metal fell from above and splashed into the water. It was like he had no fear, no self-preservation instinct. Or if he did, something even more powerful guided his actions.

“You’re my friend,” the target said.

“You’re my mission,” Asset tackled him. “You are my mission!”

“Then finish it,” the target said as Asset paused. “‘Cause I’m with you ‘till the end of the line.”

Asset let him fall. In the river, with debris rushing by, he had very little chance for survival. You all knew it.

Hanging from his metal arm, Asset watched, then slowly let go. It dropped into the water, with you following right behind. It searched in the murky depths, so you did, too. Copying the form of a very agitated fish, you were able to find the target first, and lead Asset to him.

It pulled him through the water, away from the chaos of crashing airships, into the relative safety of the muddy shore.

Asset looked down at him, beaten and bloody, and turned to walk away.

“We’re just gonna leave him?” You asked, running a little to catch up. “Who was that?” you added.

“I don’t know,” Asset said. “But I do know we can’t go back to Hydra.”

“We could run away. Go somewhere Hydra can’t get to us,” you suggested.

“I don’t know if that place exists.”

---

Part two!!!

Tag list -

The war between SHIELD and HYDRA had ended when SHIELD’S prize was defeated by Johann Schmidt, the leader of the faction at the time. The prize was killed in a blaze of fire and ice, hope was lost for SHIELD, causing them to scatter into hiding.

Now, HYDRA puppets the world’s leaders, in charge behind closed doors, everyone in their pockets. The superior faction. Made up of Assets and Widows.

7 Decades have passed since the day SHIELD’s beloved prize was defeated and yet pockets of SHIELD would stubbornly attempt to put up a fight against HYDRA. Weapons have evolved since then, as did technology. However, our purpose remains.

Hunt them down and kill them off. A once tireless crusade, now approaching its end as SHIELD nears extinction. A pity for those like me, a Black Widow, who lived for the hunt.

“Sestra, I have eyes on the entrance,” Oksana announces through the radio. “One guard.”

“One guard? Sloppy,” Yelena remarks.

“Terpeniye,” I order. Patience. “I’m going in. Watch my six.” I jump down from my perch on a tree, my legs feeling the jolt of my landing. Our suits are white to blend into the snowy environment.

“Show off.” I know Yelena is rolling her eyes.

“You’re just jealous,” I tease. I always was stronger, faster and more agile than other Widows. Perhaps that’s why Dreykov favours me.

“We got the same training, suka.”

I smirk and pull out a knife from my sleeve. I approach from the side of the entrance and slit the throat of the guard. I use his keycard to unlock the doors.

“Clear,” I announce into my radio. In no time Oksana and Yelena are at my side. Our orders are simple; kill all SHIELD agents and report any new intel.

The facility is surprisingly large for a faction that has been driven to near extinction but I assume it’s an older facility back from when they had larger numbers…

There are floor plans on the wall next to the elevator. This place isn’t heavily guarded at all. “Yelena, take the ground floor, Oksana clear subfloor one then meet me by the north staircase of subfloor two and we rendezvous by the helipad. Clear?”

“Crystal,” they reply.

We split up, following the orders I gave. There were no guards manning the staircases and besides the entrance, no other doors I approach require a keycard.

I enter a room that looks like an office space. I frown, SHIELD isn’t supposed to be this organised. There are files and maps of supposed HYDRA bases… some wrong assumptions while others were a little two close for comfort. I take pictures of the room and some files they have for intel. One file is particularly thick, stamped with a red Classified and is filled with the name Dr Erskine.

“Hey! Identify yourself!” I hear a yell and look up to see a SHIELD agent in full tac gear and a gun. I throw a widow’s bite at him which stuns him for a few seconds then slide towards him, wrapping my whip around his neck, using it as a garrote. With the snap of his neck I let go and pull him into the room, shutting the door to continue with my mission.

The last room I get to requires a keypad but there’s no time to guess a million combinations so I stab my knife into the side to expose the wiring.

“You are not clear yet?” Oksana teases. I roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m working.” I use my knife to strip the rubber casing of the thickest wire and short circuit it with one of my widow’s bites. The door opens to reveal a laboratory. We walk in, on guard. Suspiciously, the lab is empty save for a puddle of water on a gurney and a heart and vitals monitor in the centre.

“What was going on here?” Oksana wonders as she surveils the lab. I find more files, one with wet marks, indicating someone had flipped through the pages with wet hands recently.

Subject woken. Vitals normal. Natural suspended animation.

A photo of a man, a handsome one at that, is stapled to the report. Blonde hair, long lashes and chilled jawline. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS.

I frown.

I pull the photo from the staple and pocket it. I turn to Oksana and hear it before she does. Gunshots. I duck under the gurney and see a flash of black helmets and blonde hair rush toward another exit. I run to follow them, passing by Oksana’s lifeless body. Fuck.

“Yelena, Oksana is down, SHIELD agents headed down south.” I report while following them.

“Oksana?”

“Go through the lab at the end of the corridor and the back door!”

I see that two Agents seem to be protecting the blonde man. I frown and shoot at one of the uniformed agents. As I set eyes on who I assume is a civilian, he enters a submarine with the help of an agent before I shoot that one down too.

I feel Yelena arrive next to me and hear her fire off shots too.

“What the fuck happened?”

I shake my head. “We have to go back to headquarters.”

We run up the stairs to the line of trees where we left our snow mobiles and ride towards our rendezvous point; a helipad atop a now abandoned hospital.

I speak into our radio, “Tac team 12 requesting extraction, one Widow down, medical assistance not necessary, over.”

“Extraction order received, arrival in T minus 16 minutes. Out.” The other line briefly responds.

“What happened to Oksana?” Yelena asks again.

I shake my head. “Shield agents shot at us. I got both of them back but someone else was there. He got away.”

“A civilian?” Yelena raises a brow.

“I don’t think so.” I look through the classified files again. “An asset.”

“SHIELD has no assets.”

“We have to take it up with the council.”

“That means bringing it through Rumlow,” Yelena says.

I sigh. Rumlow. He’s, for lack of a better term, obsessed with me. And not in a good way. I don’t know who to trust. Johann Schmidt is the Hydra high command of the decade and he has claimed for 70 years that he had been the one to take down Steve Rogers. To take down SHIELD’s organisation. How could I possibly bring this conspiracy to the attention of my faction?

The sound of the chopper interrupts my thoughts.

“You could bring it to Melina?”

One of Dreykov’s older Widows and importantly, trusted.

The chopper lands and we enter. It takes us swiftly back to the Red Room.

To no one’s surprise, Rumlow is waiting for us. We walk right passed him.

“What happened? You lost a Widow?” A Widow hasn’t been lost to this war in 7 years. That’s how weak we believe SHIELD to be. Not anymore it seems. Having the prize back may just be the turning point they need to gain an advantage over us.

“Oksana was shot down by SHIELD agents,” Yelena answers.

“What?” Rumlow spits out. “How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I say, choosing to avoid telling him the whole story or whatever part of the story I have.

“Where are you going?”

I stop and turn to face him. “I’m going to Melina. We need better weapons if SHIELD is firing at us.”

“You’re not going back out on a hunt tonight.”

“That’s not for you to decide, is it? Your orders don’t extend to the Widows.”

“The succession is in two days, we need everyone of importance to be here, at the stronghold getting ready for the ceremony. Even this mission was a risk, clearly I should have trusted my gut because now a Widow is dead!” He’s lucky the Succession is for Pierce and not Dreykov who would go to the ends of the earth to avenge a fallen Widow. Coward. I almost say it out loud.

Rumlow scoffs at my silence and stops following me.

“Wow, you know how to rile him up,” Yelena comments.

“6 years of his obsession, I know how to handle it by now.”

“Yikes. I would have just killed him.”

I laugh but roll my eyes. “Did you find anything on your sweep?” I ask, realising I didn’t get a debrief from her.

“Just four agents but it didn’t look like they had any sort of planning, sure organisation because that was the most we’ve seen in such a big location but…” Yelena shrugs.

“No lab?”

“Nope.”

I nod. “How are you dealing with Oksana?”

“I’m fine,” she responds in the least convincing tone. “I’m going. There’s that gala tonight.”

“There’s a gala every night,” I scoff, not keeping up with the social calendar. I continue to make my way to Melina’s lab.

“Come in,” she says before I can knock, though the glass doors make it pointless. “What do I owe the pleasure, detka?”

“We have a problem.” I pull out the photo from my pocket.

Melina frowns. “What am I looking at? The newest supermodel? He’s a bit too muscular for fashion, isn’t he?”

“This is serious, Melina.”

“Elaborate, detka.”

“I found files on him at the SHIELD facility we were sent to. I think it’s the prize.”

Melina cackles. “That means nothing. The SHIELD faction were fanatics about their Captain America,” she says in a mocking tone. “Star spangled banner propaganda bullshit. Look at them now, rats just trying to survive a burning ship. What has their Captain America done for them?”

“Could it be possible that he is still be alive? Maybe-Maybe Schmidt missed something.”

“Izmena,” she scolds. Treason.

“I saw them protecting someone. The agents I killed. He got away.”

“The succession is days away. You can wait that long.”

No. Right now, who ever that blonde man is, he’s disoriented and that means careless. He must be the one in the picture, why else would they have his file in a lab if not to do research?

“You cannot confront the council with this. It is a death sentence to question Schmidt, even for you.”

“Dreykov would believe me.” I take the photo and go to my room. I wash off the grime and dirt from my hair and stand under the shower for a while, thinking. Where would this prize go? If I was believed to be dead all these years… home would be my first stop. I get chills just thinking about it. Home. The warmth I used to feel as my parents came home from work, surprising us with food or toys. My sister…

I turn the shower valve and dry off. I opt for a casual black leather suit, not the attire for the gala Rumlow will no doubt be hounding me about. All we know about SHIELD’s prize is that he was from New York.

I leave discretely as the decadence of the gala distracts everyone else. I make my way up to the hanger and get into a quinjet. They won’t miss one…

I’ve flown a jet before, just never alone and outside of a mission. It feels forbidden. I turn off tracking and communications before anyone can sense my disappearance. I land the jet in a clearing outside the city of New York and activate cloaking.

I walk into a library and find the American history section, also known as works of fiction with the lies they spread and infect their people with…

World War II. Captain America.

The text reads.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers grew up in Brooklyn, suffering from numerous health problems for which he was denied from enlisting five times before he was recruited by Dr Abraham Erskine’s Project Rebirth as the only person in the world to receive the Super Soldier Serum.

What made him so special? I think as I flip the pages, looking for a clue.

In 1943, Rogers single-handedly liberated 150 captured troops from a Nazi base in Austria.

A raid on a Nazi transport train led to the capture of Nazi scientist Arnim Zola and the unfortunate death of Howling Commando and best friend of Steve Rogers, James Barnes.

There is a passage on James Barnes and his relationship with the prize along with a photo of the two, dated at 1935. They were outside of a brownstone.

“Fan of Captain America?” a young boy asks.

I smile, “pretty awesome hero, huh?”

“My favourite.”

My smile turns into a smirk. A child. Easy to manipulate. “What do you know about his past? Y’know, before the serum and stuff?”

“Well, he was the best guy ever like the only reason he was picked to have the serum was coz he was such a good guy!” I smile and nod along. “His old apartment, in Brooklyn where that photo was taken was turned into a museum! Like that Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.”

“Oh really? Do ya mind telling me the address? I’d love to visit it.”

“Sure!” Did I mention kids were easy to manipulate?

I took a cab to the address and sure enough the apartment was there with a sign going on about America’s glorified hero. I refrain from rolling my eyes. It wasn’t busy, a passerby would pay it no mind if they were just going about their day. I walk up into the apartment. It isn’t anything too special, two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a couch and bookcase as the living room. There are plaques with fun facts about the items. I walk into the second bedroom, smaller than the first. This must’ve been his. There are comic books and photographs on the desk. The plaques explaining who were in the photos and that the comic books are replicas of what he would have entertained himself with because he was too sick to go outside and play with the neighbours. What a sad life. I think back to the space I had in my family home. A mansion, really. The outdoor playground my parents built for us.

An album of the Captain’s drawings is on the bedside table. I flip through it and there are portraits of everything, skyscrapers, people, a park with a bridge in it. Brooklyn Bridge. Next stop.

I spot him immediately. He seems to have acquired some new clothes as the Captain sports a brown worn leather jacket, a tight black shirt and loose fit jeans and boots. He’s sitting on the bench overlooking the bridge and park from the exact angle the sketch seemed to be from.

“You were at that base in Russia,” he says as I sit beside him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“You killed those agents.”

“They were my orders,” I state.

“Are you here to kill me?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not. I need you to come with me.”

“Oh now you’re asking nicely?”

“You don’t know this new world, I do.”

“I’m supposed to trust you?” he raises a brow.

“Do you see anyone else trying to help you, Captain?”

He chuckles. He’s too… confident. It makes me uneasy and I don’t get uneasy.

“Fine. But you should know, if it comes to a fight… you’ll lose.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “A threat? Hardly golden boy material. Is this what the American dream entails?”

“There’s something I wanna grab from my apartment first.”

I look at him sharply.

“Just a couple photographs. Memories. I didn’t get a chance to stop by yet. It was full of people.”

“If you try anything…”

He doesn’t. He’s an honest enough man, I think as I watch him look through the photographs on his desk. What must it be like to visit his home after being away for so long? Having strangers pick through and dissect every little thing they find… Something comes into my peripheral vision and I duck as the bullet hits the wall behind me. That’s why you don’t stand in front of open doorways, tupitsa. I throw a widow’s bite at the assailant’s neck and then go down. Another charges towards me but I kick the desk chair towards him and as he topples over I knee him in the face.

“We have to go.” I grab his hand and lead him through the stairs but there are agents waiting for us. I jump up on the railing and kick one agent in the face then jump down to the flight below wrap my legs around another agent’s throat until they passed out. I look up to see the Captain fighting off another two agents. We make our way down, removing anyone from our paths. But as we do this I can’t help but wonder how SHIELD has enough troops for an attack like this?

We get to the alley but there are still agents of SHIELD in our way. One takes out a knife and attempts to slash at the Captain. I throw a widow’s bite at him.

I don’t feel it until the Captain reacts, picking up a trash can lid and throwing it at the shooter. I look down and see my suit darken with the wetness of blood. Fuck.

“Come on!” the Captain puts his arms around me as I press down on the shot to my side, the bullet went straight through. “Keep pressure on it.”

He walks me toward a black car, SHIELD’s. Putting me into the passenger’s seat he rushed to the driver’s side and hit wires the car to start.

“Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?”

“Shut up, we’ve got to take you to the hospital!”

“No. No hospitals. I don’t need-“

“Don’t need?! You’ve been shot!” he shouts frantically.

“I’ll be fine, just t-take me to the safe house.”

“Listen ma’am, you need medical att-“

I take out my hand gun and point it right at him. “Safe. House.”

I give him the address and he reluctantly agrees.

I’ve never actually been shot before… stabbed? Yes. An arrow? Yes. Throwing stars? Definitely.

But never a bullet. I guess I’m usually better at dodging them. Or I usually don’t go out of my way to look out for someone other than myself during battle.

“Captain?”

“Yes?” he answers quickly. Worriedly.

“Never call me ma’am again.”

His chuckling is the last thing I hear as I pass out.

***

Embarrassment is what I would feel if I was conscious enough to. Passing out? The other Widows would never let me hear the end of it.

“You’re awake,” the Captain says and I hear a smile behind his words. “We’re at your safe house… doesn’t look that safe to me.”

“It’s not exactly a safe house. It’s an old interrogation and research facility.”

He frowns. “How’s your wound? I cleaned and dressed it.” I notice that he changes the subject.

“How long has it been?”

“About 14 hours.”

“And you didn’t run out on me?” I ask, in shock.

“How could I when you’re hurt?” he asks back sincerely. This man. He’s supposed to be the enemy.

I straighten myself up and he rushes to my side.

“You’re not supposed to be moving.”

“I feel fine, trust me.”

“You said that then you passed out,” he scolds.

I roll my eyes. “Actually I told you not to call me ma’am before I passed out.” I sit up and he puts a hand on my back which sends a jolt through my spine. I ignore it and lift up my shirt to look at the bandage. “I don’t… I don’t feel anything,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of things.

“What do you mean?”

“When I got shot I was in pain but now it’s like…” I slowly unwrapped the bandage.

“That’s- that’s impossible, I saw it myself, I cleaned and wrapped it up myself. You had a hole in you. Straight through.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never- I mean I heal fast but not like this.”

“So that’s not the reason you wanted to come here instead of a hospital?” I shake my head. “Have you ever been shot before? Major traumatic injuries?”

“No, I mean I’ve been stabbed and had an arrow hit me before but that still took a couple days.”

His brows furrow. “Now your healing… is like mine.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I unravel the rest of the bandage from me and put it in the sink, lighting it on fire to get rid of any trace. “No one can know of this, okay?”

“So you’re just gonna deny that you’ve got the serum too?” he challenges.

“Captain, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had the serum and I’m not some jacked up, glorified super soldier, understand?”

“Fine,” he relents. “And my name’s Steve by the way.”

I scoff. “Don’t get too familiar.”

He gives me a pointed look and I give him my name.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re too polite, you know that?”

Steve chuckles. “So, what are you planning on doing with me?”

I sigh. “I have to take you back… The people who had you, SHIELD… they want you for your abilities. My people, they can keep you safe.”

“And who are your people?” he challenges. It seems he doesn’t even know what SHIELD is, I realise. Odd because our history states that he was SHIELD’s weapon.

“I’m from the Red Room. We call ourselves Black Widows... We’re tasked with taking SHIELD down. Every last one of them.” I say with such malice I can tell he’s taken aback.

“Why do you hate them?”

“It’s a war, Steve. You would know about those, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve had my fair share… But you’re avoiding my question. The way you said that… it was more than just a soldier following orders.”

I take him in. His face, his posture. His eyes. The most sincere eyes I’ve ever looked into. Eyes that make you feel safe because they’re on you. I see his jaw clench.

“Fine,” he goes to turn away.

“I had a nightmare that night.” He slowly turns back once I find my voice. “I went to go into my parents’ bedroom but they weren’t there. The bed was unmade, as if they’d gotten out in a hurry. I went to find my sister, she was older so she got the bigger room down stairs. I remember the thunder, it was so cold. The door was wide open, there was paper everywhere. Then I noticed all the blood.”

Steve whispers my name.

“I felt someone wrap their arms around me. At first I thought it was my father. But it was too late for that. The war had spilled into our home, they wanted something my father had but they couldn’t take it. So SHIELD decided that no one could have it. He killed the agents that they had been tracking and saved me.”

“Who did?”

“Dreykov. He founded the Black Widow program. That night, he made me what I am now. He gave me the strength to hunt down SHIELD and avenge my family.”

“He didn’t give you a serum?”

I shake my head. “He trained me. Taught me everything I know. Combat training, tactical knowledge. As he did all Widows.”

“But he treated you differently?” Smart.

I nod. “Like a daughter.”

I can tell he has more questions but he lets the silence hang as I shared the deepest part of myself with him. Essentially a stranger. No other Widows know my story. Most of them didn’t come from such tragedy. Many were given up by families without the means to raise them, others simply abandoned. They don’t know the love that they’ve missed out on. The Red Room is the only home they know.

“I um, I went out to get some food for us while you were passed out.” He’s really good at changing the subject, whether it’s for my comfort or his.

I smile softly. “What did you get?”

“Fruits - strawberries, apples. Stuff to make sandwiches from. I actually-“ he opens up the fridge. “I actually made you one already.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. You should be grateful.” He pulls out a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

“Oh, believe me I am.”

I sit at the counter and start to eat. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.

“Iced tea,” he rolls the bottle towards me. “Tried it. Tastes amazing. Think everything tastes good now… we used to boil everything.”

I scrunch my nose and he laughs.

For a moment it feels like there’s no mission, no responsibilities, no problems. Just this. Having lunch at 4am with a handsome, charming man.

“I saw the photos… read your history books. You had a best friend?”

Steve nods. “Bucky. He was all I had. He was my brother. We grew up together, both really hated bullies so we got along. I never had anyone believe in me like he did. He’s saved my life more times that he knows.” He looks solemnly at his hands which are restless. “We were on a mission on the alps and he saved me at the cost of his own life.”

“There’s nothing you could have done for him. You should know that.” I know the look on his face; the look of guilt and regret. The thoughts of I should’ve done more.

He nods though I know it’s still on his mind.

“You’d think after 70 years I’d be over it.”

“Well, it was only a couple of days for you. Technically.”

He smirks in amusement. “Technically.”

“Steve. We should get going…”

“Yeah, gotta follow through your mission, don’t ya?”

We leave the safe house and get into the car Steve stole.

“I have a quinjet in a clearing outside of New York. We can take it and get back to the Red Room.”

I start the engine and I can see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Who started the war?”

“It’s a war for power so SHIELD did. They take everything. So we stop them. That’s all we know. Digging into the past is forbidden.”

“What will you do when we get to the Red Room?”

“I don’t trust the current powers in charge… Dreykov will know what to do.”

🖤🖤🖤

Was this too fast pace, pls lmk!!

Her throat was raw from screaming. If it hadn't been for the mouth guard she was sure she would have broken teeth from clenching her jaw tightly as the electricity pulsed through her. The numbness she felt once the machine stopped barely gave her relief. 

Fight it. You can fight it. The words she constantly repeated on a loop from the moment they first placed her into the chair. You are strong enough to fight this. You made it through worse.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice filled the air but she refused to find the source. 

This wasn't the first time she heard the question and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a question to see how much of her memories had been taken. To gage how much more they needed to subject her through. 

Her answers varied with each time. At first she only told them to fuck off. Or occasionally she'd get the chance to spit in the face of the doctor that stood too close to her. The more they began to chisel away at her, the more her answers changed. 

Just a random stranger. 

The person that's going to kill you when I get out of this chair. 

An ex Avenger.

Y/N. 

Phantom

The moment the mouth guard was pulled from her lips. She panted out her birth name. The name she had barely remembered from her time in the Red Room. The name that had been taken from her the moment she sat in the chair for the first time. 

It was the name that held no real meaning to her anymore. She had felt more of an attachment to the fake name she had been going by for the last handful of years than the name she had been born with. Yet at that very moment, that's the only name she remembered. 

She watched as the woman standing in front of her wrote on the clipboard after she had spoken. As she did, she tried to remember how she had gotten there or how she even ended up strapped to the chair. The more she tried to remember the more her head hurt, and not just from the process they subjected her to. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

Another question they kept asking her before holding up a series of photos. Sometimes it'd be a group photo of the Avengers at a press conference or individual photos of each of them. Other times it'd be a photo of her original handler or several other faces recognizable through Hydra’s history. And each time she gave the appropriate answer to ensure they knew her memory was fine. 

Until it wasn't. It was taking her longer to answer. Longer to figure out if she actually knew who she was looking at. At the beginning she'd easily say their names without any hesitation. But as each session progressed, she'd fight harder to remember their names. Sometimes she couldn’t at all. 

A photo of Bucky was held up for her to see this time. By the looks of it the photo had been taken on a mission. His brows had been furrowed in concentration as he held a gun up, ready to pull the trigger when needed. 

There were plenty of things going on in the photo, but she could only get her eyes to focus on his eyes. How familiar they had been to her no matter how many times she had seen them before and during her current situation. 

With the familiarity came a sadness that filled her chest. A pain that she no longer understood why it had been there as she looked at his eyes. But it lingered in the pit of her stomach. But she knew him. Otherwise there'd be no familiar feeling as she looked at the photo. 

Her brows furrowed as she tried to get her brain to work. To pull the information out from behind the wall that is being put up. After a moment an echo of his laugh filled her mind. 

His laughter had been contagious the whole night. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and she was enjoying every moment of it, committing it to memory as if it was the last time she'd ever hear him laugh like that.

His vibranium arm had been holding several bags filled with merchandise he had acquired through the night. Y/N had enjoyed watching him go from booth to booth and taking everything in before deciding that what the vendor was selling was worth the price and bought it without second guessing himself. 

Taking Bucky to a smaller fantasy based convention for his birthday was something that he never once expected to ever do. But seeing the excitement on his face as he went through the whole day pulling her to the different booths that caught his attention had been worth it. 

For the first time since completely turning her back on Hydra, she got to really get to know who Bucky was. And from the moment she found the flier advertising the convention, she knew she had to take him. 

"You have no idea how much I needed this." Bucky said as he pulled her closer to his side and put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how to express how much I appreciate you pushing me to give this a chance."

"Seeing you this happy and excited is all the expression I need." She kissed his cheek before giving him a smile. "Happy Birthday Bucky."

"His name is James Barnes." She said a moment later as she lifted her head up slightly to look at the doctor in front of her. "He's an Avenger. Former Winter Soldier and hostage of Hydra, just as I am."

A small tsk followed by a sigh came from the doctor. Before she knew it, the mouth guard was being forced back into her mouth. 

She braced herself for the blow. But no matter how many times she had experienced it, her body was never prepared for the current of electricity being sent through her. 

At the sound of the door opening, the doctor didn't bother to look up from the page she continued to write notes on. "This process would go a lot faster if we had her book." 

"That was never recovered." A soldier responded as he came to a stop beside the doctor. His eyes moved over to chair the moment a new wave of screams left her mouth. "We can only go by the pages we've found that Pierce had copied during his temporary time as her handler." 

"And nothing has come up from when you captured her?" The doctor looked up at the soldier before checking the watch on her wrist. 

"No." The soldier responded. "For all we know she could have destroyed it along with the base." 

"What are the chances of inserting new commands?" The doctor asked as she wrote a few more things on the clipboard before nodding her head to her assistant, indicating to turn off the machine. 

He watched as Phantom sagged in the chair, panting. He had seen the fire in her eyes the day they brought her in. As she opened her eyes, he could tell that fire had been snuffed out. There would only be a few more times needed if they were lucky.

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "There's only one way to find out. "

___

It wasn't long after Bucky explained the meaning of the postcard that the team found themselves back on the quinjet. There was no actual plan of action or data to go off of. Only a destination based off of the location on the front of the postcard.

"What are the chances of her still being there?" Natasha asked, looking over at Bucky. 

Their destination was only a few minutes away and all of them, especially Bucky were getting antsy. They weren't sure what would come from this trip. For it being 3 weeks since the postcard had been sent, they expected to almost find nothing once they landed. 

"Slim to none." His attention was on the postcard in his hand. He hadn't put it down since Sam had handed it to him. His fleshed fingers would occasionally run along the grooves of her writing. "For her to send this, there had to be no other way of getting out of it." 

"Then why send the postcard?" Sam asked. 

Bucky’s eyes looked over the writing on the back for the millionth time. He could hear her words play through his mind. Okay, worst ever possible case scenario. He realized now that it wasn't just a random scenario. It was a just in case idea if either of them would ever need it. 

He now understood why she had done it. They both had a past with Hydra. It was only a matter of time until someone attempted to get them within their grasp. Y/N knew she would be the easier target with the programming still locked within her mind. 

This was her way of subtly adding in the details just in case something came up. And while the first stake out with the potential scenarios had been a few months after her escape from Hydra, she wanted it embedded in any way she could. 

"It lets us know where to start looking." He responded a moment later. "Someone could have seen something. Or if she was keeping anything with her, that'd be where she left it. If we're lucky, we'll find something that will let us know at least in what direction Hydra went."

"Not to be the downer on the thought process," Sam began as he leaned forward in his seat. "What if that is the only thing we have to go on? She's been damn near impossible to even get a trail on after she stopped using the safe houses. For Hydra to find her, they've got something we don't and any trace of that could be gone." 

That had crossed Bucky’s mind several times on the way over. Each thought process comes to the same two ends. On one hand there was a possibility that there'd be nothing else to go on. On the other, there was ache in his chest that screamed she'd leave something behind for him to find. 

"What is it?" She asked as she finished wrapping her wounded hand in gauze. Bucky's brows had been furrowed as if he'd been thinking hard about something.

"Your hypothetical today." He said with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

She ran her good hand along her face. "Was it the Hydra question?" She watched as he nodded before she closed the distance between them. "If there's one thing I know, you'll always be free from them." She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked up at him. "You're strong enough to fight without them getting into your head. And I'd be there guns ablazing to pull you out before they could try anything." 

He chuckled as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Humor me. What's waiting on the other side of the postcard?" 

She shook her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. "There’d be hope waiting on the other side. Whatever we have with us. My heart." They both chuckled. "If I ever needed to use Siberia, I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be." 

"You just have to trust me when I say this might be more than just a postcard." Bucky said as he looked over at Sam. 

____

Once landed, the team had split up. Bucky took one look at his surroundings and gave the others several locations to search. Especially places he knew would have vantage points of the town. While any other time he'd willingly go searching for any sign of Y/N, he knew he had to be the one to go to the shop on the postcard. 

He, along with Tony and Natasha, began making their way through the center of the town. Vendors lined both sides of the street. And as the town normally did, crowds gathered at each vendor.

Bucky’s eyes had constantly been scanning the area. They never settled in one spot for too long. They were scanning for the shop or anything that could be lurking around. If Hydra was still around, he didn't want to be caught off guard. 

When the small shop came into view, Bucky’s pace picked up as he made his way over. He hadn't cared if the others had taken a second longer to realize where he was going. He hadn't cared how the bell rattled loudly against the door as he roughly pulled it open moments later. He just hoped that there was something. Anything to lead him in the right direction of Y/N. 

As he scanned his eyes over the shop, he noticed three things. One, the way a glare formed on the shop owner's face before his eyes widened in surprise. Second, was the empty spot in the aisle that Bucky could only assume once held shelves. And third, his nose could pick up on the lingering scent of bleach. 

There was no doubt that something had happened within the shop. He felt some relief that something had happened instead of coming up empty the moment he walked in. He felt it in his gut that she had been there. That the postcard hadn't led to a dead end. 

He could almost imagine the path into the shop she would have taken before she reached the rotating shelf of postcards. The back and front entrance was visible no matter where she was within the shop. Several aisles filled with anything she could possibly grab to help her. He understood why it had to be this shop. 

"You're the Avengers." The shop owner noted as Tony and Natasha began to walk towards him. Bucky followed behind shortly after and noticed how the shop owner's face quickly steeled over as if he was supposed to be that way from the beginning. 

"At least that makes things easier." Tony said  as he looked at Bucky and Natasha before looking back at the shop owner. Tony opened his mouth to continue when the shop owner quickly interrupted. 

"Are you safe?" Bucky watched as the man asked Tony. He seemed not to care about what Tony may have wanted to ask and it made Bucky curious as to why. 

"Safe?" A confused look formed on Tony’s face. "Of course I'm safe." Tony then pulled up a projection of Y/N. "Have you seen her come in?" 

The owner looked at the projection for a moment before shaking his head. "No." He looked towards Natasha. "Are you safe?" 

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before Natasha nodded her head. "I'm safe. We're all safe. We're just looking for our friend to make sure she is safe." 

It was Natasha’s words that clicked something in Bucky’s mind. Anyone else would have just given an answer about if they had seen Y/N or not. But this man had been intentionally avoiding any questions about Y/N. 

All he cared about was asking if they were safe. A question that seemed pointless given the current circumstances. But Y/N had sent him a postcard with a coded message. A code that had been tied into the steps he had created with a scenario she had come up with for the sake of making a stakeout easier to handle. 

The owner shook his head slightly before looking at Bucky. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading that one of them knew how to respond. "Are you safe?" 

An annoyed sigh passed Tony’s lips at the words but Bucky nodded his head. "Pancakes."

"What?" Both Tony and Natasha said at the same time. 

"I'll explain later."  Bucky shrugged. 

A smile pulled at the shop owner's lips as he kept his eyes on Bucky. "Your preference?"

Bucky chuckled at the memory that crossed his mind. One that left him and Y/N tangled in each other before the smoke alarm went off. "Regular, but the burnt ones made the memories." 

The shop owner nodded his head quickly. "One moment." He moved away from the counter and made his way towards the back room. 

Bucky looked over to find Natasha and Tony sharing the same look of curiosity. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Y/N played this smart. Anyone else would have given you an answer about if they saw her. Not look directly at an image of her and lie before asking the same thing to the person standing next to you." He looked over at Nat. "He completely ignored what you said after asking. But when you mentioned we were making sure Y/N was safe, it hit me what the phrase was. So I gave it to him." 

Before Natasha or Tony could respond in any way, the shop owner came back carrying a decorative box. One that was decent in size but small enough to be held in one hand. 

"Your friend said to give this to you." He held it out for Bucky. Bucky gently reached out to take it from him. "She told me she'd only trust the person who could answer correctly. Said what was left of her life was in that box." 

"Thank you." Bucky said as he brought the box closer to him. His eyes never left the lid of the box as he had. 

I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be.

Part of him was afraid to even look inside of it. If this was all she had kept with her, it added to the guilt that was already hooked within him. The other part of him wanted to know what items the box contained that would help put him in the right direction in finding her.

"Was this where she was taken?" 

Bucky had heard Natasha’s voice ask the question. But his brain wasn't fully latching onto the conversation as his focus was now on opening the box. 

"No. She killed two of them here before she left. Tourists saw soldiers take her down at the next block over." 

She fought her way out.That would explain the empty space and smell of bleach. Bucky thought as he placed the box and the lid on the counter top in front of him. The box had been filled halfway with items Y/N had put in there. 

At first glance Bucky could see some pictures. Pictures that made a small tick of a smile pull at his lips. A strip of photos from a booth stuck out and he gently pulled it out taking in the images. 

His heart longed for the moments the camera had captured. The smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other instead of the camera. How her eyes had shined so beautifully as she looked over at him. Or how he kissed her at the right time for the last photo. The first time he ever kissed her was captured for them in a small square photo. 

His face fell as that guilty feeling poked out at him. He hated himself for forcing her to leave. He hated that he waited so long to start visiting safe houses and leaving her messages. Messages that had been left unanswered as those safe houses stayed vacant. 

Sighing, he placed the picture strip back on top and lifted the pile of photos to stand against the edge of the box. Underneath the photos were a few folded maps. 

Maps of the different locations she had been in over the last year and a half. Circles and Xs were visible in certain locations. No doubt places she deemed safe and places to stay clear of. On the top right corner of the first map, her writing had caught his interest quickly.

If you're reading this, thank you for coming. You didn't have to, but you did. You are the only person who would understand the contents of this. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. I trust you with it. 

His eyebrow raised as he lifted the maps. Beneath them were two journals stacked on top of each other. One of them he recognized right away. The other not so much. 

The one he recognized had been Y/N’s journal. One that she had kept with her on every mission, every vacation, and that she wrote in nightly. Her favorite color protected the pages she had been writing on. And by the simple glance of it, there were only a few more pages left untouched. 

When he pulled the second journal out, his heart dropped. The black leather journal stared right up at him. The white lettering on the front was bright against the cover. The journal is newer in comparison to the one that still occasionally haunts his dreams. 

His fleshed fingers ran over the etched lettering in the leather. Each letter he traced with his finger proved further that Y/N did her best to make sure no one could just come along and surprise her. She'd go down as herself and not as the asset they made her into. 

As his fingers came to the last letter on the cover, flashes of a red journal appeared across his mind. How he loathed the memories of sitting in that suppressing machine and seeing the soldier in front of him read from the journal. How a journal such as that one, and the one in his hand, had the capability to take away a person's free will in an instant. 

Phantom. The front of the cover stated. It wasn't a symbol like the one he had seen being used during his time in Hydra’s hold. A single word that held more secrets than a symbol. 

Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it. 

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

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When you were finally able to get to sleep, Wanda crept out of the room as silently as possible in order not to wake you. There had been many a time you’d awoken before she’d so much as made it to the door, meaning she had to go through the process of lulling you off again. But alas, this instance seemed to be in her favour.

“She go down alright?” Before, the sudden voice of Natasha would have startled Wanda as she pulled your door ajar, but since you, the redhead was just as much in Wanda’s proximity as you were.

“Out like a light, today must have exhausted her”

“I can imagine. Recovering from trauma takes a toll on you. Especially a child”

“I just can’t look at her and not see myself, you know? I want to be strong for her, but it’s hard to see her struggle” tears threatened to fall from Wanda’s eyes as she spoke about the similarities between her life and yours.

“She’s going to be alright. She’s a fighter”

“Thanks, Nat” was all she needed to say to her friend. Natasha knew just as well as she did that it would take time. Patience is all they needed.

-

The following morning was much of the same as it had been for the last couple of weeks.

Wanda would sneak back into your room before you woke. Sit down on the edge of the bed, and wait patiently for you to stir.

She had learnt the hard way that if you regain consciousness without her in the room, your screams would permeate the walls and a panic attack would ensue. Not an ideal way to start the day.

After a while, the movement in Wanda’s peripheral told her you were waking up.

“Good morning, moya lyubov. Did you sleep okay?” Wanda chose a volume no louder than a whisper so as to not scare you. Another mistake she’d made before.

A nod was her response from you. Not a word had left your mouth since you’d been in her life. Wanda wasn’t surprised though. A child subject to beatings and experiments was not very likely to find the strength to speak. Not for a while at least. So the small, non verbal communications you rewarded her with were more than enough.

“Shall we get you washed before breakfast?”

Another nod. A bath it was.

-

As many times as Wanda had laid eyes upon your wounds, it never failed to make her heart ache.

The lashes across your back were now angry scars. Healed no less. But still a reminder of your terrible start in life.

The water trickled down your back with ease as Wanda washed you. It was if the droplets were ignoring the agony you once felt. Luckily for Wanda you were facing away from her so you couldn’t see the tears falling over her cheeks.

All Wanda needed to remember is that you don’t hiss at the water hitting your tender skin anymore. Another form of proof that things have moved forward. And she had no intention of letting things slip back. You were hers to look after now.

The gentle splash of water pulled Wanda from her deep rumination. She looked to see you had turned around to face her. Your way of telling her you’d had enough and wanted to get out.

Next came drying and dressing you. The next step in your new routine. A swift process was quickly learnt so you didn’t get cold. Your cell at the lab was nye on freezing, and Wanda didn’t want you to feel like the compound was anything like that ghastly place.

Your clothes had been laid out beforehand, to make the whole operation easier. You hadn’t got to the stage where you could pick out your own clothes. Not from lack of trying. Natasha had to go to the mall alone to purchase some clothes for you in the end. You’d refused to leave your room for the first week, and even now you still got overwhelmed with having to make a lot of choices. At this point it was best for Wanda to make certain decisions for you.

Opting for leggings and an oversized t-shirt, Wanda grabbed your hand and led you through the compound towards the kitchen.

It was quiet at this time of the day, making Wanda’s life easier, and your time out of your room more comfortable.

Breakfast was the same thing you have every morning. Scrambled eggs and a small carton of orange juice. All fed to you with the help of Wanda herself.

Being an experiment, you had nutrients given to you intravenously. Meaning you had no knowledge of how to use cutlery. At first it was uncomfortable, for both Wanda and you. Wanda had never had to feed anyone before, let alone a child. But now it wasn’t a problem. She liked bonding with you this way.

You finished your food with ease. Wanda was glad you had an appetite. She could no longer see your bones threatening to poke through your skin. These days it doesn't take you long to finish meals. It was the little things.

“What do you want to do today? We could maybe play outside or watch a movie?”

Your eyes lit up at the second option. Outside was fun, but movies with Wanda were better.

-

She should’ve known that in your mind, a movie meant time for a nap. She couldn’t blame you. You’ve had a long week.

Much to her dismay, Tony thought it would be beneficial to run more tests. Ones he swears are new. He wanted to try and cover all bases when it came to figuring out all the possible ways to help any and all trauma related matters.

Wanda knew he wanted to help. But it was still hard seeing the fear flash through your eyes whenever you saw the lab equipment and sterile rooms.

She couldn’t blame you for wanting to get in some extra shuteye.

You’d chosen something light hearted. One you’d seen many a time since being here. But Wanda didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t some spaghetti western that Steve had a habit of choosing on movie nights.

At this point she didn’t need to look at the screen. The words had been etched in her memory. She used this time to watch your sleeping form and observe how the crease in your brow finally disappears when you rest. Things were getting better.

-

Lunch came after the movie.

Even though the two of you tried to mix up the activities your partook in through the week, it was best to keep to a routine of set times.

Lunchtime was one of those things. Served at 12pm on the dot.

“What should we have today? I was thinking a sandwich and carrot sticks. Or we could be naughty and have grilled cheeses? What do you think?”

Wanda held up a bag of carrots and a block of cheese to make your decision making process easier. Visuals helped.

Your small finger lifted and pointed towards the carrots. Two times you’ve made a decision on your own today and no hysteria. Things were looking up.

“Good choice” Wanda praised as she turned to the chopping block and started cutting the vegetable into bite sized sticks.

She’d read that positive reinforcement is a good way to motivate a child and boosts self confidence. It seems to be working for the two of you.

A few minutes later, when plates were on the table and you were in Wanda’s lap being fed your carrot sticks, it happened.

“Thank you, mama”, you said in between bites. Your words were quiet and shy. But they had left your mouth either way.

It took her off guard. The feeling of both pride and elation blooming in her chest at once.

“You’re very welcome, Y/N” she rushed out, not wanting you to be left hanging too long. She didn’t want you to take any negativity from her lack of response.

All you did was smile at her and carry on chewing. It was all Wanda needed anyway. She hugged and rocked you in her arms as another confirmation of her gratitude.

The air must’ve been heavy with joy, as when Natasha walked into the kitchen she noticed the shift instantly.

“What’s been going on in here then hm? I better not be missing out on all the fun”

“Auntie Nat”

Natasha’s movements from inside the fridge halted immediately at your words. Popping her head around the fridge door, finding Wanda wide eyed and smiling in her direction was all the verification she needed on what just happened.

“Hey Y/N, are you having fun with mama?”

A nod was your response to her question. It didn’t matter if your answer wasn’t spoken. Natasha knew what she heard and she’d remember this moment for the rest of her life.

Natasha raised a brow at Wanda as they shared a knowing look. No words needed to be exchanged in order to explain what had just transpired.