#it's fear

It’s routine at this point. He should feel surprised they’ve kept him out of the cryo chamber for this long, a full 127 days. 

It’s the longest the Soldier’s been awake, every few days it seems he’s sent on a mission. Mostly recon and assessment; a few overseas HYDRA gatherings, acting as eye candy for Pierce who loves to show him off like a trophy; and of course, the killing. 

He should feel invigorated at being awake for so long, but he wishes they would just put him under again. Pump him full of drugs and shove him back into the freezing chamber. At least there it’s quiet. Dreamless. 

Here, it’s never ending barbarity. Nightmares. Blood. Screams. 

The Winter Soldier gets up out of the hard metal bed, following the man down the long hall. He blinks, trying to shake the sluggish cloud currently in his head. 

Another reason the Soldier had come to despise being awake this long. They kept putting him into the machine. He doesn’t remember what it does, he doesn’t think they’ve ever told him. All he knows is the pain of being strapped to it, the fatigue and heavy headache which always follows. 

And the dreams.

Pierce kept the Soldier in isolation for the most part. Not that he minded being alone. When he was alone, no one could hurt him. 

But being alone meant all he could do was remember. Remember the nightmares which plagued him every night. Replays of the brutal assassinations he carried out. Nightmares of Siberia, of bullets tearing through his skin, a woman’s hands gliding along his body as he lays unable to push her off, a cold winter day-

A train, high above him, his body flailing as a scream rips through his voice-

They weren’t things he liked to dwell on. 

But then, one night, after a particularly exhausting hour in the machine, he had the first dream. Lighter, softer than the nightmares.

He can’t remember it now, just fragments and pieces. A soft hand against his thigh, a feminine figure standing across from him, eyes sad yet kind, piercing. If he tries hard enough, he can almost picture the woman.

Or, at least that’s what he tells himself. When the Winter Soldier wakes after these dreams, he can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest, like he’s missing something.

And he’s left to wonder what it means. 

The Soldier is brought to the large weaponry room, Pierce stands with a folder in hand.

“Ready to comply, Soldat?”He nods, taking the folder from Pierce. 

“It’s simple. Take care of the target. It’ll be broad daylight . Be quick about it, but keep it public. We can’t let him slip away.” 

The Winter Soldier opens the file, a picture of a dark man with an eye patch peering up at him. Nicholas Fury. 

It was simple enough. 

“Where is he?” The soldier questions.

“No need for pursuit. We’ll bring him to you.”

The preparation is small. Various guns and missiles loaded into a disguised van. There are soldiers milled about in the private HYDRA hanger, all disguised in police uniforms, the cars wrapped to look like police cars.

The Soldier follows a guard, getting into the truck as the guard opens the door for him. He sits inside the truck, allowing the STRIKE guard inside to strap weapons to his chest, and place a pair of dark goggles and a mask onto his face. 

He stills his breathing, trying not to give in to the way the mask stifles his breathing.

The van ride is long, and the Winter Soldier sits, patient. He pictures himself as a caged animal, waiting to be released, muzzled and violent. He doesn’t like the image. 

But it’s for HYDRA. To shape the century. For the betterment of the world as Pierce tells him. But the longer he’s awake, the less he believes it.

The Winter Soldier is dropped off on the corner of a street, instructed to wait. And he does. He waits alert in the shadows, listening for the chaos of cars and sirens. He finally steps out onto the street when he hears the loud crashing of metal, the squeal of tires and multiple gunshots.

The team of faux police cars herd Fury’s black van onto the designated street, chasing him into a trap. A sheep being led to slaughter. 

As the van approaches, the Soldier takes a breath, raising the gun.

He fires, calmly sidestepping the now burning van as it barrels towards him. The van flips and rolls.The Soldier watches as it comes to a screeching halt. 

He approaches, steps quick but steady. His metal hand grips the door of the van and he rips it off and tosses it aside. His nostrils flare with annoyance. 

The inside of the van is empty, nothing but broken glass and empty bullet shells. 

He hears a voice in his earpiece. 

“We’re tracking him now, Soldat. Extraction and relocation will be at your location in 2 minutes.”

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The Winter Soldier hauls himself onto the rooftop, footsteps light as he treads towards the wall. STRIKE had located Fury in an apartment complex, not far from SHIELD headquarters. The sky grows dim, the sun setting on the horizon bathing everything in shadows. The Soldier blends in with ease, becoming one with the night.

He passes an apartment window and peers into it, the room dark and empty. It’s a bedroom, the contents indicating it likely belonged to a young female. With his metal hand he breaks the lock on the window, popping it open and sliding inside. 

His boots are quiet against the rug and he moves through the apartment, listening to the people in the hall. It’s hard to hear, even with his enhanced hearing because of the music coming from the neighboring apartment, but he can just make it out.

“Are you sure you’re alright? That looks like it really hurts.” The voice is male, bright.

“It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal. I’ve had worse” A feminine voice, likely the resident of the apartment. The Soldier readies his silencer, moving into the shadows of the room, always sticking to the rule. 

No witnesses. 

But the girl doesn’t enter the room. There’s something about her voice. He strains to listen, telling himself to focus on finding the voice of the target. But the Soldier stays against the wall for another minute, listening for the girl’s voice again. 

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” There’s a pause. “You don’t have to-”

“No, I’d like to.” It’s soft. Pretty. Words prick the back of his mind, but he shuts them out. 

Focus on the mission.

There’s shuffling and the door opens. 

“You left your record player running…”

The male’s response is muffled as they enter the apartment. 

It’s as if he’d heard it once before, in a dream. The voice soft and gentle. The words surface once more.

“You did your job. And I’m grateful.” 

“I’m sorry moya lubov.”

The Soldier shakes his head. He doesn’t have time to dwell on dreams. Not when the consequences of failing rest heavy on his shoulders. 

He moves to the wall dividing the apartments, listening. He can hear the male from the hall, speaking. And then another voice. Deep. Hollowed with pain. 

It has to be the target. The Winter Soldier moves across the small living room and opens the window leading to the fire escape. Quietly, he steps onto it, slinging the rifle on his back off, prepping the trigger and target line as he looks into the neighboring apartment. 

There he was. Nicholas Fury, slumped in an armchair. It wouldn’t take much to finish him off. 

Standing across from him, his back turned to the Soldier was a blonde haired man dressed in brown leather. One hand rested on his hip, the other clutched a metal shield, decorated in red and blue. 

As the Soldier aligns his rifle to his eye, setting the target on Fury, a movement catches his eye. He shifts the rifle to the open doorway in the apartment, the female entering. 

She moves towards his target, handing him a glass of water and crouching down, mouth moving as she speaks to him. 

The Soldier’s brows furrow. He can’t see her face. He wants to see her face, feels he needs to see it. That feeling is back in his chest, the ache of familiarity. 

“What’s your status Soldat?” He clears his throat, answering with whispered Russian.

“Target located. Waiting for clear shot.” A lie. One adjustment and he’d blow the man’s chest wide open. But his eyes remained trained on the back of the girl’s head, willing her to turn around. 

As if she had hear him, she turned, looking to the blonde man-

It was so fast, the Soldier feels he can hardly breathe. And it’s not because of the mask.

There you were. He feels it, that same ache in his chest he gets when he dreams. You looked different than he thought, a dark bruise blooming on the side of your face, a bandage taped to your cheek. 

But your eyes… the Winter Soldier could recognize them from all the way through his rifle scope. The same set of eyes, kind but sad.

And to see you here, with the target…

The Soldier feels a pang of concern. He wished he knew what it meant. 

The Winter Soldier furrows his brows and aligns his target with Fury once more. He doesn’t have time to worry over fantasy and dreams. They don’t matter. If Pierce says they don’t, then he’ll listen. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger now.

Fury goes down, the blonde man pulling you behind him as he crouches, holding up the shield. 

The Soldier activates the comm.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Good Soldat. Extraction point is a mile south. Back of the parking building. Be ready in three minutes.”

He should get up now, head to the extraction point. But he stays a moment longer, watching you, your hands clinging to Fury, hands fumbling for your phone. The blonde man’s eyes dart around the room as he looks around, panic written across his face. 

The man locks eyes with the Soldier and you look up as he speaks, his finger pointed towards the fire escape. The Soldier sees the moment your eyes catch his shadow through the window. He sees the fear written across your face, the longing. He doesn’t like it.

The Soldier moves, darting up the escape and onto the roof, boots pounding as he moves to the extraction point.

The image of your face is burned into his brain. And he wishes it wasn’t. 

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Despite the warm and stuffy air of Pierce’s office, the Winter Soldier has chills running up his back. He was cold. 

He was always cold. 

The Soldier sits in the chair, eyes vacant as he stares at the large window providing a view of the city. 

Why Pierce had called him to his office above the basement? He didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care either. He was just glad to have an opportunity to get out of his cell. 

It had barely been 24 hours since he’d completed his mission, and since then he hasn’t stopped thinking. About you. 

The Soldier would kill anyone Pierce asked him too, anyone who got in his way. He knew the work was important. 

It had to be. 

But this was the first time (that he could remember) he felt questions brewing beneath his chest. He wanted to know who you were, why you were with the target. Why did he keep dreaming about you? 

He’d dreamt about you last night, clearer than before. You had been in danger, wearing a pretty dress, a man hovering over you, dangerously close. He had awoken sweating, wanting to shoot someone.

There are footsteps echoing down the hall outside the office, the pace set and heavy. The Winter Soldier straightens in the chair, waiting as the door opens and shuts with a bang. 

“Apologies, Soldat,” Alexander Pierce walks into view, adjusting the tie on his suit. “Our guest is running a bit late.” Pierce sits in his office chair with a sigh. 

He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a glass and a bottle of alcohol. He lifts another glass, as if to ask the Soldier if he’d like one. The Winter Soldier stays still and Pierce accepts his silence as a no. 

Jerk. The Soldier knows if he had said anything Pierce would be onto him about respect and conduct. 

The Soldier’s fingertips twitch and he wishes he had something to fiddle with. 

Boredom was something he had grown accustomed to. It was necessary or he’d have gone mad a long time ago. Maybe he had. 

Waiting in stakeout missions, waiting for the perfect shot, waiting for the next assignment,

Waiting to be free… 

But here, waiting in the office with Pierce, it was like an explosion ready to happen. And he wasn’t sure if it would be Pierce who would make the first move, or him. 

The office door finally opens, Rumlow lingering in the door frame.

“She’s here sir.”

“Good,” Pierce gestures with his hand, “Have her come in.” Rumlow nods and leaves. 

He’s gone for a minute and finally comes back, a girl in tow. The Soldier glances for a second, seeing her face-

It’s you. 

The Winter Soldier tenses you as you walk in, takes you in and tries to disguise the fact he doesn’t want to take his eyes away. You weren’t in the comfortable day clothes he saw you in that night; instead wearing a set of tactical hiking gear, subtle yet practical. 

When he spots the half hidden hydra patch on your shoulder, he knows this meeting will not be a pleasant one. 

Your gaze latches onto him the moment you walk in the office, flitting between himself and Pierce at the desk. It’s full of familiarity and fear.

Your body is radiating with nerves, your hand brushing against the gun at your thigh as Rumlow shoves you into the seat next to the Soldier. 

The Soldier tries not to think about how you were so close, this fragment of his dreams sitting right there next to him. 

“Myshka. How kind of you to finally join us.” Myshka. 

The name sparks something in the Winter Soldier, a memory, a feeling. He can’t quite reach it, like a word caught on the tip of one’s tongue. But he knows it’s there. 

It’s important.

You’re important.

You swallow and cross your legs in the chair, sitting up straighter. You’re trying to look put together, to not look so afraid. The Soldier thinks the name is fitting for you in this moment, a mouse caught between three snakes, waiting for the moment they strike.

“I’m still not entirely sure why you called me here, Mr. Pierce.” 

Alexander Pierce takes a tablet off of his desk, eyeing you as he pulls up a video, displaying it for the both of you to see. 

The Soldier watches as the video plays, camera footage from SHIELD’s halls. There’s a flurry of movement from a STRIKE team, their group running down the main foyer of the building. A man comes crashing through the glass of the ceiling, ducking and rolling on the ground. 

It’s the man who was with you that night, dressed in red, white, and blue, shield in hand.

 An American Flag.

“You’re keeping the suit right?”

It’s a voice he recognizes as his own. But he can’t remember saying them. Or why he’s remembered them now.

The Soldier shakes the words from his head, paying attention to the way Pierce is looking at you, like a father ready to scold a child. Disciplinary. Authoritative. Afraid. 

You look at Pierce, waiting for him to speak. The Winter Soldier is sure if he took out his knife, he’d be able to pierce the tension which lay thick in the air. 

It was almost worse when the man didn’t lash out in anger. The silence of the office was punishment enough. The waiting was dread inducing, and the Soldier can hear your heart beating from where he sits.

“I hope in your inability to keep Rogers away from Fury, you at least have an idea of what happened to the intel he had stolen.” You shake your head.

“Sir, how would I-”

“You were there the night he died. You didn’t see anything. Hear anything Fury said to Mr. Rogers? He didn’t say anything to you.” You shook your head again.

“Sir, Fury doesn’t exactly trust me considering I work for you.” Pierce slams the tablet down on the table and points a finger at you.

“I find it hard to believe that you couldn’t get anything from him. You’re one of the best spies we have, and instead of thinking and doing your job, you were too busy jeopardizing the mission.”

“I didn’t do anything-” your voice raises and Pierce cuts you off.

“You called for the medics! What if he had survived? All that work-”

“I wasn’t about to blow my cover. Steve would have known something was up when he came back and found out help wasn’t on the way.” Pierce sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“That’s over. I’m ending that project now. It won’t do us much good anyway now that Rogers is on the run.” You glance at the floor, and the Soldier notes the tension which returns to your shoulders. 

Pierce stands from his desk, moving around it and leaning over your chair, caging you in. 

The sight made his stomach churn. 

“Myshka. Did Rogers tell you anything?” You don’t say anything, breathing heavy as you look anywhere but at Pierce. Pierce slaps you. Hard. 

The impact leaves a bright red mark on your already bruised face and the Soldier can see the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me now.”

“I swear, Steve didn’t tell me anything about the intel. I haven’t even seen him since the hospital!” 

“And Romanoff?” You lick your lips. 

“She knows.”

“Knows you’re working for us?” Your lips tremble as you nod. 

“It wasn’t hard for her to put it together. She’s smart.” The Soldier notes the strength in your eyes. Despite the fear, you had a level of confidence.  

Pierce backs away from you, seeing this as well. He leans against his desk and crosses his arms. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well, we can’t risk having you mess this up. You’ve already caused enough trouble and Project Insight will launch in two days.” Pierce looks to Rumlow who’s standing in the back of the office. 

“Get her the schedules for Sitwell’s meetings. She’ll be acting as his new assistant for their duration.” The Soldier watches as you frown.

“But his meetings are with SHIELD stockholders. They’ll know who I am.” 

“Precisely why you’ll be provided a disguise. And, if you make a move, they’ll have all the incentive to arrest you for treason.” Pierce checks his watch and you sigh. 

The Winter Soldier watches as you look at him, your eyes glistening with secrets. He doesn’t like the fact he’s brimming with questions about you. 

Pierce dismisses you and Rumlow first, and the Soldier watches as you leave, your gaze leaving his at the last second as you exit. Pierce frowns, watching the tablet again, replaying the footage.

“I’ll have your new targets prepared in a few hours. Be ready for the call.” The Winter Soldier nods and stands, like the compliant killer he was. But as Pierce goes to open the door to let him out, the Soldier’s tongue slips, the words leaving before he can bite his cheek and stop them. 

(This is what happens when he let’s dreams cloud his mind)

“Who is she?” 

Pierce’s eyes are fierce at the question. The Soldier tenses, and Pierce licks his teeth, annoyed. 

“You really won’t let her go, will you.” The Soldier says nothing. It’s better to not answer. “It doesn’t matter who she is. Just know she’s not to be trusted.”

Then why does she make me feel this way?

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The Winter Soldier moves down the empty hall, silent and shadow like. He’s almost to the elevator, waiting to descend to the basement when he feels the presence behind him. The Soldier moves to grab the gun at his thigh, but his fingers come empty. 

It’s not there, and as he turns he sees it in your hand, your body pushing him forward in his surprise into a broom closet. How did you know-

The small closet is enveloped in darkness as you close the door, locking it and banging your fist. He can hear Rumlow’s voice from the other side.

“Your five minutes start now. Five minutes and no more.” 

“I got it,” you say, and it’s just the two of you in the dark room. The Soldier is uncomfortable, hot and cramped, his back pressed against the shelving unit, your legs grazing his as you lean your back against the door. You still have his gun pointed at him.

You’re both quiet for a second and then you speak.

“You really don’t know who I am?”

The Winter Soldier glares at you. He wants to, but now that he’s here, his gun in your hand so easily taken, he’s not sure he does. Maybe Pierce was right.

“Right now, you’re being a nuisance who’s disregarding orders.” 

You sigh, tilting your head as if you don’t believe him.

“Always loyal. I’m trying to help you, believe it or not.”

“You almost cost me my mission.” If you really had gotten Fury help and if he had survived- the soldier can feel the phantom of pain running up his spine. 

“Don’t.”

The Winter Soldier feels a spike of anger at your word, the feeling mixed with the strange feeling overwhelming his senses with you so close. 

“I’m following orders. Like you should.” 

“Do you even know what your orders are?” Of course he does. They’re simple. The same every time. Escort this HYDRA member. Kill this traitor. Obtain this weapon. Do this. Do that. 

Clear, concise instruction. And he always executed them flawlessly. 

Until you showed up. 

The Soldier’s eyes glance down at the gun in your hand and you shift it back up towards his chest. He has a feeling you’re only holding it for him to see you were able to take it. You don’t seem like the type to actually shoot it at him.

“Let me rephrase that, have you never asked why you’re given these orders?” 

The Winter Soldier’s eyes snap to yours. 

“No.” 

“And why not.”

He’s not allowed to question. Questions only lead to pain, to Pierce slapping him and telling him he just needs to follow orders. Questions only lead him back to that machine, that awful machine, and that stupid book, the one which overrides his thoughts and his actions. 

“I can’t-”

You groan, frustrated.

“This is what they want. They don’t want you to question things. But you have to.”

“NO.”

“No!” Now it’s your turn to be angry. In the midst of your frustration and emotions, the Winter Soldier catches you off balance, grabbing the gun out of your hand and pushing you forward, pinning you to the door. He does it so fast, you barely have time to gasp before he’s pushing the gun into your side.

The Winter Soldier holds the gun, staring at you. He’d pull the trigger, save Pierce the annoyance of finding a place for you to sit in a timeout, and just kill you now. But he can’t.

You're so close to him and your body beneath his is overwhelming. Your scent. The curve of your mouth. The bandage on your cheek.

You’re breathing slows as you look up at him. You don’t move, just allow him to hover over you, caging you in.

You finally speak.

“You don’t ask questions and they win. They don’t want you asking because they know the minute you start, their whole facade crumbles.” The Winter Soldier frowns. You continue.

“You don’t know the whole truth. If you question them… if you were to find out the truth….” You swallow. “They don’t want you to know the truth because if you did you’d know all the lies they’ve fed you.” The Soldier doesn’t want to hear anymore.

“Stop.” 

“No, I won’t-” 

“STOP-”

“No, because I know you James!” He stills at the word, confusion brewing like a storm in his mind. “At least I think I do. And what you’re about to do…” you look down, taking a breath. 

“If you go through with this, someday you are going to start to question things. And you’re going to regret going through with this.” 

The Winter Soldier lets you go, panting. Everything you had said… he couldn’t believe it. Pierce had told him not to trust you. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t-

The Soldier shakes his head. 

“You don’t know me.” You just look at him sadly.

From the other side of the door, Rumlow knocks, telling you time was up. You straighten yourself and unlock the door, the light from the hall bright as you slowly crack it open. 

Rumlow pulls you out, whispering in your ear. "You better remember our deal."

The Soldier watches as you go to leave, remorseful and despondent. 

“I’ll be here when you do remember. And I hope you do.”

You leave and the Winter Soldier shoves his metal hand into the shelves behind him, tearing at the first thing he could get his hand on. 

Remember you. If he didn’t, this would all be so much easier. 

And he hates that a part of him is already trying to search his mind for any memory of you.

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taglist: @frog-fans-unite , @vicmc624

You catch a glimpse of red beside you, Natasha’s face coming into your peripheral.

“Nice night for a swim, huh?” Her voice playful, nudging you with her shoulder. “Think if you miss the boat our Captain here will save you?” You smile.

“I don’t know, maybe I should find out.”

You both turn to look behind you at Steve, his face serious as he tightens his gloves. 

“She’s not one to miss her shot Natasha.” Natasha turns and folds her arms, smirking.

“Unlike you. How many girls have you missed the chance to ask out?” Steve rolls his eyes, though you can see he’s enjoying her jest despite his protest.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Come on, any girl you ask out would be at your whims. You’re Captain America!” Natasha gestures at him. 

You nod in agreement, carefully moving from the open door to the weapons rack, fingers sliding over each gun until they land on a small pistol. That feels right. You slide it into your thigh holster.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What, too scared? Shy?” Steve moves past Natasha as the STRIKE team assembles in a huddle. 

“Too busy.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and stands on the other side of the huddle, raising her eyebrows at you as Steve takes his place beside you, arms crossed.

“Is she always like this?” He whispers. 

“Usually. But if you ask me, she’s just deflecting. She’d rather push you away than ask you out herself.” 

Steve makes a face, opening his mouth to protest when he’s cut off, Rumlow entering the huddle by Natasha.

Your hands clench besides you and you have to keep your face neutral. It was easier to be in the same room with him knowing you weren’t alone. Steve and Natasha were always a comforting presence. 

But you couldn’t help but feel like a sheep in a wolf’s den. Rumlow was always watching you, waiting for you to make a wrong move. 

In fact, he had made sure to pull you aside in SHIELD’s hanger, whispering in your ear threats of what would happen should you compromise this mission. 

“The only thing left for you to do is pray your Winter Soldier has any ounce of pity on you.” 

An impossible feat considering he didn’t remember you. Pierce had made sure to keep you both separated after the last mission, keeping Rumlow watching you like a hawk. 

Pierce had made up some excuse about how the Soldier was needed elsewhere and your “project” with Steve Rogers needed to be a priority. But you suspected he was growing suspicious of you.

You had begun to follow Steve around like a lost puppy, taking him to the Smithsonian, the Monuments and various coffee shops he all said were overly loud and served too sweet coffee. 

Pierce had at first presumed you were following his orders, finally dedicating yourself to HYDRA. But then you had visited the Winter Soldier without permission.

You hadn’t done anything, hadn’t said anything to the Soldier. You just wanted him to see you. To recognize you. To make sure they hadn’t left him to rot in the cell.

And you also wanted to see if it was true.

If the Winter Soldier wasn’t just a nameless face to you anymore. 

If he really was the ghost you thought he was. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Captain America’s best friend, thought long dead. 

When you had taken Steve to the Smithsonian, it had been your first time visiting his exhibit. Steve hadn’t even known about it. 

“Fury didn’t tell you about this?”

“Fury doesn’t tell me a lot of things.”

You had laughed watching Steve try to avoid the gazes of the crowd, pulling his hat lower over his face as you moved from display to display, his face and name plastered on posters and placards.

And then the smile on your face had fallen, the large sip of coffee practically choking you as you stared into the eyes of the Winter Soldier.

Only they weren’t the same eyes. The man on the display had more life in him than you had ever seen in the Soldier. As you had stared at the display of James Barnes, you realized this changed everything. 

There was a man behind the killing machine. Someone real, tangible. Caged. Trapped.

You just needed the right key.

And it was all the more reason you doubled down on your mission to befriend Cap-

Rumlow’s voice jogs you out of your thoughts. 

“Alright gentlemen. Ladies”, he nods at Natasha and you. You look away. “We go fast, we go hard. In and out. Nothing we haven’t done before; a simple hostage extraction mission.”

He goes over the plan. Steve would touch base first, followed by the STRIKE Team, Natasha and you after he gave the all clear. 

As they took care of the hostages, it was supposed to be your job to access the upper level of the ship, taking out any other pirates who may have straggled from their posts. 

At least that was what Rumlow had told the group. 

You weren’t looking forward to having to face the Pirates. 

As Rumlow finishes up, Steve leans over to you.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispers.

“What?” you whisper back. His finger taps your hand, balled into a fist at your side. 

“I know you don’t particularly like fighting.”

“Oh.” You unclench your fists, bringing your hands up to your elbows, crossing your arm.

“Thanks but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well, I’ll be just an earpiece away. Rumlow too.” You nod, eyes distant as he says the man’s name. You’d rather get yourself killed than ask Rumlow for help. 

You look up and see Rumlow watching the two of you, as he concludes, a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Thanks Steve.” 

He smiles and settles his helmet on his head. As the huddle disperses Natasha moves towards you, holding back a frown.

“What’s that about?”

“Nothing. Why, you jealous?”

“No.” She looks away, pulling out her gun and checking the cartridge. 

“Liar.” 

Natasha just rolls her eyes and grabs a parachute, sticking her tongue out at you as she moves over to Steve. 

You shake your head, sliding on your own parachute pack, trying to pretend like your hands weren’t fumbling with the clips. You can feel Rumlow breathing down your back.

Rumlow fiddles with his own parachute, closing in on you until he’s standing right next to you.

“You know your job?” He says it in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

You try to ignore how his voice raises the hairs on your arms. You nod.

“Clear the top level, wait for your signal and head down to delete the information for Pierce.” 

He nods and leans in closer to you, his breath hot against your ear.

“Be a good girl now. No funny business.” You look him in the eye, raising your brows with emphasis. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

As you move to look away, Rumlow grabs your face, pulling it back to look at him. The move is subtle enough to look like he’s encouraging you, but painful enough to remind you that you were on HYDRA’s time right now. 

“I mean it. Don’t think Pierce won’t wipe him again and send him after you.” Your eyes widen. Wipe him again…

They didn’t just wipe him every few days; the process was too strenuous on both his body and on the machine. If they had wiped him again,

“He remembered-”

“Don’t let it get to your head Myshka.” He squeezes his fingers and lets you go, leaving your teeth burning from the pressure, your cheeks aching. 

The Winter Soldier had remembered. You didn’t have the time to think about what that meant. 

Natasha was already coming by your side, her eyes laced with concern.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you look away, watching as Steve jumps out of the chopper. “Just getting the boss’s orders.” 

------------------------------------------------------

The moment your feet land on the ship, quiet and quick, you rip off your parachute and pad up the stairs. You nod to Natasha as she runs in the opposite direction, down into the long corridor of the ship’s interior. 

The pirates, the ones who currently had multiple SHIELD (HYDRA) members hostage, were scattered at the top deck of the ship.

To be honest, you weren’t sure Fury would believe you- well he didn’t know it was you.

A week ago you’d sent him an email, anonymous and untraceable, with implications that Project Insight wasn’t all he presumed it to be.

It had been a long shot, but knowing the distrustful nature of the SHIELD Director, he was the only one you could rely on to dig into it. You had expected him to send Natasha after the info, maybe Cap as well.

Why he staged a pirate coup and hostage situation to get the information?

You could only guess. The man had a thing for theatrics.

Which was fine. It kept the STRIKE team busy. 

You crouch, peering over the top of the stairs at the pirates gathered on the deck. There were two right above you, one large and burly, covered in tattoos. The other was lean and tall, a scar running across the top of his bald head. 

They both cradled machine guns and you could see multiple knives strapped across their chests. They talked quietly in French and a third man came into view from afar, gesturing to the two. 

Three total. Maybe five; you could hear voices from across the deck, behind the pipes and captain’s house, which were blocking your view. 

Fighting wasn’t your strong suit, although Natasha once said you packed a powerful punch. 

“You know, if you really put your mind to it, you’d be able to kill someone with a swift kick to the jaw.”

You had held your tongue when she told you that.

You’ve seen enough killing to last a lifetime. People you’ve helped track down, target’s you’ve accompanied the Winter Soldier on. You wouldn’t want to make your own contributions to that long list. 

All that death you’d seen. All the fighting. All the lies.

All for the glory of reshaping the future. A future where HYDRA thrives.

And they would if you didn’t do something.

You reach for the pocket at the back of your belt, gently removing three tranquilizer disks- a Stark invention; small, round disks the size of a checker piece. They were able to latch onto the skin with a suction grip and upon pressing a button, injected enough drugs into the person’s system to knock out a black bear. 

They were discreet. Useful. 

More covert than using a gun. Although the pistol strapped to your thigh remains slightly pulled out, the safety already off.

The three men are now congregated further in on the deck, and you sneak up onto the top of the stairs, skirting around a pipe and taking care to remain in the shadows. 

The closest man, the one with the tattoos is right in front of you. You throw a disk at the back of his exposed arm, the disk latching on. Even as the Pirate’s hand swipes at it, as if he’s swatting away a bug, it doesn't budge.

You hear him grumbling. The third pirate, with an earring dangling from his left side, dreads falling into his face, laughs and takes out a knife, flipping it. 

You creep closer to the second pirate, throwing another disk with perfect aim, this one landing on the top of his bald head. 

He turns around with annoyance, scratching his head. His eyes flit from the stairs to the pipe you’re crouched behind, searching the shadows and darkness.

Your earpiece crackles, Steve’s voice echoing your name too loud for your liking. 

“Is the top deck clear?” You don’t answer, too focused on not making a sound, hiding behind the pipe.

The pirate stares for a moment too long, and you turn around too soon, his eyes locking with yours as you peek from behind the pipe. 

“Hey-”

You leap, shoving your body into his legs, knocking him down. With quick movement, you throw the last dart at the third pirate, the disk latching onto his head with a pop.

 You roll off the lean man as the other pirate throws his knife at you, the blade lodging itself into the deck. His fingers try to rip off the disk from his forehead, but it’s no use. Stark had designed the suction grip after octopus’ suckers; the disk wasn’t going anywhere.

You're on your knee, taking out the dart’s activator, finger moving to press the button to inject the pirates when the burly one pulls you up by the vest, throwing you across the deck.

You yelp, back cracking as you hit the pipe with force.

“Ow,” you groan. 

The activator has been thrown from your hands, and you see it lying off to the side. The three pirates are now inching towards you and you scramble despite the pain, diving for the activator as the lean pirate closes in. 

You dodge him and grab the activator, finger quickly pressing the button. Each disk lights up red, the pirates all falling with a loud thud, the drugs pulling them into a deep sleep.

You pant, slipping the activator in your pocket as you hear shouting.

“What’s going on,” two more pirates move in from the other side of the deck. You jump over one of the pirates you’ve sedated, their bodies splayed out on the deck. Now it was just the last two.

One of the new pirates swings and you dodge, crouching down and punching his knee. You roll away as he grunts in pain, attempting to grab you.

Your legs push out to kick him down when his friend grabs your pant leg, lifting you upside down. 

You grunt in pain, sweating as the blood rushes to your head. 

Your comm crackles, a voice saying your name again, but you miss who’s speaking.

The pirate’s fist makes contact with your gut, sharp pain blossoming up your side and across your ribs as he punches you twice more. You start swinging your body, using all your energy and momentum to throw yourself upright, leg wrapping around his neck.  

A move the Winter Soldier had shown you. 

You try to ignore the pain of your leg, twisted uncomfortably by your new position. As you fumble for another disk, the other guard grabs your arm, leaving you trapped. 

You pant, trying to free your wrist when you hear the soft sound of a sniper gun, two bullets whizzing past you. You're thrown off the Pirate as his head is blown back, the other falling to the ground in succession. 

You look up to see Rumlow, his gun lowering at the top of the stairs. He pushes his earpiece, calling out the top deck as clear.

“You didn’t call for help,” he cocks his head. You glare. 

“Well, your track record in protecting me isn’t great.” He moves closer, holding out his hand to help you up. You swat it away, pushing yourself up with a groan, hand supporting your side. Rumlow just shakes his head.

“I don’t care if you get hurt. Hell, you can break as many ribs as you’d like,” He presses into your side, fingers digging into your vest. You hiss and move away. But Rumlow moves closer, eyes like daggers as he stares at you. “I just care if you’re dead. Can’t have Pierce’s favorite toy die on my watch.” You shake your head. 

“I hate you.”

“You can hate me later,” he presses a flash drive into your hand. “You have a job to do first.”

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Pierce is furious. You can tell from the moment you exit the elevator into the basement; Rumlow follows you out, his boots loud against the floor. You hadn’t expected him to pin it on you so quickly. It had barely been two days since the mission.

Pierce stands in the hall, his arms crossed, brows furrowed. 

“You want to tell me why Fury is questioning Project Insight?”

You stop just in front of him, fingers pulling at a thread on the sleeve of your sweater. You weren’t even given time to change; Rumlow had knocked at your apartment door in the early hours of the morning and grabbed your arm, hauling you into a car. 

You stare blankly at Pierce’s chest- not his face, never his face. 

“Why would I know that information Mr. Pierce? Fury isn’t my boss-” “No. I am.” He leans down, his eyes meeting yours. You mentally curse. He really was pissed. “And it seems you can’t be bothered to follow my orders.” 

Rumlow shifts besides you, and from the corner of your eye you can see him biting his cheek. He must have gotten chewed out too. 

“Sir, how was she to know Romanoff had been sent to collect the information? If we had any idea, we would have moved her to the second stage of the plan faster. Forgo the theatric cover.”

Your eyes dart to the floor. Rumlow was only covering for you because he wanted to save himself from repercussions. 

Although he was higher up on the food chain than you, you had seen Rumlow get his fair share of punishment. He had the scars on his neck to prove even he wasn't free from HYDRA's hell.

“I didn’t know what Natasha was going to do sir.” And it’s the truth. Sitting in the hull of the ship, setting the computer data to self destruct, you had hoped Natasha would come in time to download the information before it was lost to the abyss of the internet. 

And when she saw you leaving the computer room, her face darkening with question, you had shaken your head, telling her it would have to wait. 

She had to trust you. 

Hard to do for a spy with trust issues. 

And because your statement was the truth, half of it at least, Pierce seemed to believe you. They always did. You found gathering information wasn’t really about hiding and trying to catch someone giving things away. It was all about trust.

“Alright. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now. You’re going to stay away from Romanoff. You’re going to stay away from Fury. Don’t talk, don’t engage. Focus on Steve Rogers and making sure he doesn’t get word of any of this.” 

You flex your hand, eyes shifting worriedly. 

“What?” Pierce glares at you. 

“Well, I think he already suspects something.” 

Pierce sighs, running a hand down his face. 

“Fine. Keep him distracted and away from Fury.” A man in a lab coat comes up from a room down the hall and whispers in Pierce’s ear. Pierce nods and pats the man on the shoulder, whispering back. 

“Hail Hydra.” “Hail Hydra.” 

They part ways, and Pierce turns back to you and Rumlow. 

“How do the two of you feel about a little show before you go?” He smiles in an eerie manner; white, perfect teeth stretch wide, but his eyes remain dull and dark. 

You look at Rumlow who looks just as confused as you are. But he doesn’t say anything. He just follows Pierce as the man makes his way up the hall, waving his hand for you to follow. Rumlow wears a look that indicates he doesn’t want you making any more trouble for him.

You step into the room and feel a wave of dread. Doctors are milling about the floor, a large machine on the wall, and a chair beside the blinking machine. Pierce is standing one side of the room and gestures for both you and Rumlow to join him.

“Care to explain what we’re doing today, Doctor Petrov?”

A tall, skinny man looks up from his clipboard, adjusting his glasses. 

“Of course. We’re conducting tests to see how the new mind wiping program affects the brain.” Your stomach drops, your eyes growing wide as multiple guards file into the room, the Winter Soldier marched alongside them.

The Soldier looks at you, his eyes on your face a moment longer than they should be, before he turns, tensing as he sees the machine. He stops and the guards have to push him forward, forcing him into the chair. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t wipe him successively?” you question Pierce. 

He smiles at you, arms crossed with ugly satisfaction. 

“We’re testing a little theory I have today. One you’ll find very interesting, I’m sure.” 

Rumlow scratches his cheek as he looks at the Winter Soldier.  He leans down to whisper to you as the doctors fuss over the Soldier, checking his vitals and prepping him for the machine. 

“You would think he wouldn't have anything left in that brain after being melted so many times. And yet did you notice how he looked at you?”

You glare at Rumlow.

“That’s because unlike you, he’s forced to be a weapon for HYDRA,” you spit out. Rumlow shrugs. 

“Maybe. We’ll see if they finally manage to erase you from his brain.” You don’t want to think about that. 

Pierce claps his hands, rubbing them together with anticipation, as if he was about to order a hot dog or settle in for a baseball game. 

“Alright. Let’s begin with the first test, shall we?” The doctors nod, yelling something in a foreign language, and they all back away from the Winter Soldier.

The guards are on you before you can even blink, large hands grabbing you by the arms and putting you into a headlock. You try to break out of it, but it’s no use. Whoever has you is too strong, and your energy quickly dwindles as a gun is pointed against your temple.

Rumlow asks what is going on, but Pierce raises a hand to silence him.

“Don’t worry. We’re just running an experiment here.” Pierce looks at the Winter Soldier who is sitting glaring at the guard holding you.

If looks could kill…

“What are you going to do, Soldat?” Pierce’s voice rings out in the room, egging him on. The Soldier remains motionless, only his eyes darting between the gun at your head and your face. 

You try to shake your head, trying to tell him not to give in, but the guard presses the gun harder into the side of your head. You wince as the cold metal digs into your skin.

Pierce sighs, snapping his fingers and giving the guard a cold look. You feel the guard move his position and he shifts you so your arms are now trapped in his, the front of your body fully exposed with no way to protect yourself. 

Pierce takes a gun from one of the guards and hands it to Rumlow. He does it as if he’s handing off a drink, bored and tired; as if he’s going through the motions of a disappointing round of golf.

“Hit her.” 

Your breath catches and the man steps toward you. Rumlow looks hesitant, fiddling with the gun. Rumlow chuckles darkly.

"Sir, is this really necessary." Pierce shoves him forward, the Soldier tracking their movement, ever the hunter.

"Hit. Her."

Rumlow gives you a sympathetic look, almost apologetic.

The butt of the gun hits your cheek with a loud thwack and you cry out, your head falling forward limply. You don’t cry, refusing to let the tears stinging your eyes to fall. 

You breathe through your teeth and look up, shooting Rumlow a dirty look. 

Rumlow reels his hand back again, and you catch something moving out of the corner of your eye-

Rumlow is thrown into the wall, the gun clattering from his hands. You blink and the Winter Soldier is ripping the guard off of you, his metal arm snapping his neck with a sickening crunch.

The guards surrounding point their guns at him, another reaching out to grab you and pull you away from him. The Winter Soldier is faster, pulling you behind him with force, his foot kicking the guard into the wall with such force you see the splattering of blood before you hear it.

“Don’t touch her”, he snarls, staring down the guards as they point their large guns at him, ready to take them all on by hand. 

He had never been this violently protective over you. It was as if the emotions they had programmed into him had been dialed to ten; the instructions to protect you emblazoned into his brain. The only thing that stuck beside his innate ability to kill. 

It was all the programming had collected itself in his mind, each wipe adding another layer to the already intense feelings. And when it was triggered, well... let's just say there wasn't anything the Winter Soldier wouldn't do for you.

Pierce is looking at you intently and you realize this was the test. 

It has to be. This moment, here, was what they wanted to erase. The programming, the protectiveness. 

They were trying to get you out of his head.

And you had to let them.

The grip the Winter Soldier has on your wrist is painful, and you’re afraid if he pulls you again he might snap the bone. You gently touch his shoulder, your wide eyes trying to reach his.

“Soldat,” you whisper gently, urgently. He finally looks at you after a moment, glancing at you before returning his stare to the guards. It was a signal he was listening, even if his attention wasn’t on you. “Let go, please. You’re hurting me.” Your Russian is broken, not as good as his, but he gets the message. He lets your wrist go.

You walk around to face him, settling him when the guards point their guns at you. 

“Stop, stop,” you hold up your hands, glancing back at them as the Soldier begins to move. “It’s okay, they’re not going to shoot me.” 

You don’t know that, but you have to get him to calm down. 

Your hands are on the Soldier’s chest, on his metal arm, his tense muscles visibly relaxing beneath your fingers. 

You swallow thickly. You know what you have to do, know what Pierce expects you to do. But can you do it? 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of the Soldier. You’d seen what he could do. You’ve even felt it, when you had first met him. His knife thrown into your shoulder to get you to fall back on a mission, to warn you to retreat. It was a backwards protectiveness, but it had developed into something so much more. 

Here, now, you could see it. The attachment he had to you, the connection.

It was why you had visited his cell, why you had risked punishment to try and get him to remember you.

Because while you feared him, while you were tense every time he was in the same room as you, you couldn’t help the attachment you’d grown to him. 

You’d come to know his fight patterns, his focus, his attention. 

His quietness, his loyalty. Even though he had done terrible things, even though you knew he was going to do more, there was something shared between you, something you couldn’t ignore.

In some twisted way, he was yours. Even if you couldn’t have him. 

Your eyes grow warm and wet with tears, your bottom lip trembling as you speak again.

“I need you to do something for me, Soldat.” 

The Winter Soldier looks at you, and it finally brings a sob out of you, tears streaming out of your face. His cerulean eyes are sad, so unlike his picture in the museum. 

You try to look for James Barnes within him, a glimmer, a hope of something more. But James is so buried beneath the Soldier, you’re not sure how he’d ever resurface. 

The Winter Soldier is waiting for you to speak, waiting for you to instruct him. It pains you to have to do this, your heart burning at the thought of what you were about to do. 

But the quiet part of you, the selfish part which keeps you up at night, tells you it’s necessary. 

If not the Soldier, then you. The fear which had been instilled in you overriding your senses. 

The Winter Soldier brings up his right hand tentatively, brushing a tear off your face. 

“Anything,” he whispers.  You swallow, and look at Pierce. He nods, his eyes dark and intimidating. 

“I need you to sit in that chair,” you point to the one by the machine. His eyes flicker between the chair and you. He shakes his head. 

“It’ll hurt.”

“I know,” you say, hands gently pushing his body toward the chair. “I know, but it’s better for the both of us if you get in.” Your eyes are pleading, remorseful, and he doesn’t protest as you push him into the chair, his body falling into it with a thud. 

A doctor comes from behind you and quickly straps the Winter Soldier in the chair, another attaching electrode wires to his head and chest. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to throw himself at the doctor as they prick his arm with needles, his eyes flashing with anger.

But it quickly dies when you throw your body on his, his hand from coming up to choke out the doctor. Your arms are wrapped around him, touching him in a way you never have. It kills you that this has to be done here and now, with an audience and with the sense of awful betrayal running through your body. Your hand moves his long hair covering his ear and you whisper again, softly, in Russian. 

“I’m sorry moya lyubov.”  (my love)

It doesn't exactly encapsulate your connection, no title or word ever could for something so complicated. But it's the only comfort you have to offer.

His eyes are glassy as you move away, your fingers lingering a moment too long on his cheek. Rumlow is the one to pull you away, bringing you to the other side of the room beside Pierce. Your gaze doesn’t leave the Winter Soldier as they place the mouth guard in his mouth, his fight leaving his body as he looks at you. 

“Didn’t know you had that in you.” Rumlow whispers. You refuse to look at him.

The machine starts up, whirring loudly, the mechanical parts creaking as the metal instruments lower down to his face.

You turn away when the Winter Soldier starts screaming, tears streaming down your face. Rumlow grimaces besides you, and when Pierce tells him to do so, he forces your head back to watch.

To take in the horrifying image. To face the consequences of what you had done. But Pierce is too busy watching the Soldier, engrossed in this awful display of his power.

He doesn’t note the way Rumlow covers your ears, blocking out the haunting screams. He doesn’t see the way Rumlow's eyes are also pained at the sight of the Soldier.

Maybe it's because Rumlow knows one day it could be him. Maybe it's because somewhere, buried deep, a part of him cared. It's a crack in his facade which makes you partially grateful, despite the hatred boiling in your gut.

To know it wasn't just you suffering.

Even if it was just to keep you from growing hysterical, to keep you calm for Pierce. No one likes an agitated lab rat. But it makes you wonder...

The screaming finally stops. The machines' loud whirring coming to a grinding halt, its different parts raised by the doctors. 

The Winter Soldier sits slumped in his chair, Pierce grabs the little red book, the one whose very sight made your heart beat faster, the dark star embellished on its front.

This was it. He begins to speak the words, the only Russian you could perfectly understand. 

Longing, Rusted… 

The Soldier only looks up when the final word has been spoken, his shoulder twitching, jaw tight as his teeth grind. 

Pierce looks down at him, hands behind his back. Expectant.

“Ready to comply.” The Winter Soldier’s voice is hollow. Empty. There’s sweat running down his temple.

Pierce nods with approval.

“Good. You’re going to observe and copy what you see. Understand, Soldat?”

The Soldier nods once, looking at Pierce with obedience. 

Pierce nods to the guards who pull you front and center again, their hands gripping your clothes tightly. Rumlow sighs and takes out his gun again. He clenches his teeth and cringes, shrugging, as if to say ‘sorry. If not you, then me.’ 

He hits you. Not as hard as the first time. Your teeth still rattle with the impact, a groan escaping your mouth.

“Now, your turn.” 

The Winter Soldier stands without hesitation, taking the gun Rumlow holds out to him. You look up at the Soldier slowly, tentative. Afraid. 

He stands there for a moment, watching you squirm in the guard’s arms. You plead softly, but his eyes are cold as he stares. 

With the gun in his right hand, he brings it down on the side of your face, and you can feel the metal tear away a layer of skin. There’s a ringing in your ear, blood dribbling down your cheek, warm and wet. Through your tears, you see the Soldier, sweating, staggering back as he looks at you. 

“Good,” Pierce pats the Soldier on his shoulder, gesturing to the guard holding you. He lets you go and you crumble, breathing heavy as your knees fall to the hard floor. The Winter Soldier closes his eyes and you can see he’s about to pass out. 

The machine was always hard on his body; the toll it took to wipe a mind was exhausting, both mentally and physically. Not to mention the hypnosis process. The Soldier lowers himself to the floor, not looking at you, closing his eyes as he slumps fully onto the floor, passing out. 

Pierce kicks at him like a broken toy, closing his eyes in disappointment when the Soldier doesn't get up.

Pierce calls your attention, “You and Rumlow are dismissed. Let’s not allow this… attachment to get in the way of your work anymore, alright Myshka?” 

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek, knees still pressed against the hard floor. You don't get up.

"Now, don't let the Captain see you cry," Pierce leans down, as if you were a small child in need of comfort. "You keep him distracted today, alright? The Winter Soldier will take care of Fury. I don't need you getting involved."

The guards carry out the Soldier, his body held up by four men, head lolling and limbs dragging on the floor as they throw him into a cell in the hall. 

You follow Rumlow out into the hall, watching, hand clutching your face painfully. 

The elevator is slow, too slow for your liking and you shift uncomfortably as you glare at Rumlow in front of you. He sighs, glancing at you in his peripherals.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of things in my time here. But today…” Rumlow turns to you, his eyes hardened with concern, “Just don’t do anything stupid with the Soldier. Next time they have to erase you, they’ll have him shoot you after.” 

“Don’t try to sympathize with me. You’re just as bad as Pierce.” Your eyes remain trained on the floor. Rumlow shrugs. 

The elevator dings and he steps out. But before the door fully closes behind him, Rumlow sticks his head back in. 

“Who knows. Maybe they'll finally figure out you just won’t leave his head. Then they’ll make him kill you first.” 

He was right. They were going to kill you eventually. No matter whether the Soldier - whether James- remembered you, your time in HYDRA had an expiration day. You might as well be dead already.

And they were going to have him kill Fury today...

An idea pricks the back of your mind. But to do it.... you hated the thought. You didn't even know if he'd help you out. If he wouldn't shove you into one of SHIELD's incinerators at your request. But if he could help...

Rumlow backs out of the elevator, the doors closing and it's your turn to stick your head through the doors.

Rumlow turns back, surprised. You lip quirks in disgust, hating the words which were brewing on your tongue.

"Yes?" he says, voice lilted with amusement.

"Rumlow... I need a favor."

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link to series masterlist here.

chapters:

I. It's Fear

II. Lies About You

III. In Between Dreams

IV. Piercing The Veil

V. A Spider's Web

VI. Ghosts In The Mirror

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