The first time he came across the girl, James had nearly killed her. His training, while terrible and dark, had prepared him for many things. He had earned the names he'd been given. A ghost. A monster unseen. But apparently, fate hadn't thought to inform Darcy Lewis of this and he was wildly ill-prepared when he encountered her.

That day, the hunger that seemed to never fully be sated had been bad but the whole body fatigue was worse. Even the hair on his head ached dully; a constant reminder of the last few weeks. The fall of SHIELD/HYDRA, the bridge, the man, and the running. All of the running.

He couldn't stop. Weeks without handlers and freeze withdraws tearing his body apart, he knew he'd have to find him. And with this plan came an uncomfortable emotion. One that had been violently grated out of him, sliced into pieces and burned. Something dangerous and lethal and sweet.

Something like hope.

Out in to this strange new world where he was no one's asset, James began to remember. His brain sluggishly trying to pull forth long forgotten memories and feelings.

That other man, his old best friend had been the first solid recollection. And then there were clips; images of a world long dead. Music. Friends. Pretty girls dressed up and ready to dance.

That was who he had been. Now he was just a monster looking for… what? Redemption? He didn't know.

Finding Steve Rogers was the only thought he clung to as he moved silently through the layers of thick underbrush. The wooded area in upstate New York had acers of dense forestry, nearly all of it untouched by man. But right at its center, there was a small Stark facility. It'd taken a lot of questionable tactics to get this information and while he didn't regret it, he'd have to be sure the agent who's lose tongue had brought him here had recovered from his massive hangover…

The clearing up ahead was familiar. It'd been several days since he'd managed to locate the facility. This was the first time he'd moved forward, having mapped out where all of the cameras and sensors were. James would be the closest he could get without them knowing, at least until he was sure Steve Rogers would be there. God, he hoped he was there.

He moved low and painfully slow along the freshly fallen leaves, inching his way a little closer in the hopes of seeing how many agents stood guard over the main trail. He would stop once he reached the dirt path a few feet from him, and then he'd-

"Hey there buddy. You Lost?"

A moment of reaction, instinctual violence followed by a soft gasp. For a moment, he was the Soldier again. The cold heartless killer that slit throats silently and vanished without a trace or whisper.

Except he didn't. He wouldn't be that thing. The steel of his small knife was pressed gently against tender flesh, and there was a moment of panic that swirled in his gut. There began a ringing in his ears. This he tried to ignore as well, instead focusing on the stranger before him.

God damn it. It was a young woman, no more than 25 years old. Her small hands were up and shaking slightly but her eyes were bright and unafraid. This threw him off, making him pause.

He took in her clothes, the way her thick brown hair was tied up, and her worn shoes. She'd been out for a run. There was an alarm bracelet around one slender wrist, making it clear she belonged to the facility. He was working through this information when she spoke again.

"Seriously? Put the poker away and we can use our big boy words." He was taken aback again. Her voice was strong and fearless, even with his blade pressed against her. The warm color of her eyes swirled with curiosity, pupils dilated with the surge of energy. Perhaps that was what was making her reckless.

He slowly lowered the knife, seeing no threat in the woman. Not yet. Though he knew he should flee now, take what information he had and hightail it before she calls the agents over.

But he didn't.

Because she smiled. It was a genuine grin with the same carelessness that seemed to be her trademark. Kinda reminded him of someone. His heart thundered unusually and he blinked in confusion.

"Cool." The woman spoke softly, her eyes keeping his gaze. They were kind. Deep. Bizarrely non-threatening. All the things he was unaccustomed to. "I'm Darcy Lewis. I work over at the building you were scoping out."

His face tightened into a cold mask of indifference. She worked there, but did she know who he was? And why in God's name did she give him her name? And he didn't doubt for a second that she was telling the truth. For a woman who had ties with Assassins and superheroes, she didn't know the first rule. Don't tell strangers your identity under any circumstance.

There was no sign of a clear motive, neither on her face, nor her body language, though he could tell her body was thrumming with adrenaline. There were so many questions and no answers.

His brain was foggy from fatigue and dulled his reaction time. That's what James told himself later. Right now, he needed to retreat and refocus. He should go… Now.

"It's just me and some suits, so if you were looking for one of the Hero's, you are out of luck." The woman muttered and he knew she was reading his expression. He hoped to hell she didn't see the disappointment that stabbed through him. It was sharp and bitter, making his stomach turn.

The frustration allowed him to move away from her as he stood and turned to flee. He had to get away from the empty hope. This was his last lead. Other than marching into Stark towers, hands up in surrender, he had no way to get to Steve Rogers without a battle. And he knew there would be a battle any other way with all the terrible things he'd done.

He cursed in Russian, following the memorized path when he heard her call out to him. Still it was easy to ignore her. Mostly. He was confused and angry with the strange woman who had no fear of him. Who had smiled at the man who had pressed a knife to the pale flesh of her neck.

But when she called again, her words rang loud and clear, piercing through his anger.

"Wait guy, I think I know you!" His legs stopped before his mind and then her body crashed into his back. He was surprised at how she'd kept up, though not happy with it. A slow assassin was a dead one.

The sun felt too hot, and his body was close to giving up but he clung to her words because they were the ones spoken by the other man. By his friend. The words that had awoken his choppy memory and freed him.

"I don't know how." Darcy breathed airily and he heard the excitement in her voice. His own heart raced and he could feel a terrible mix of hope and fear. "I don't know how, but I know you. Who are you?"

Was this a stalling tactic? Did she already have the Stark Agents surrounding them?

All of his senses said no, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to go. To run. To leave now!

And then she surprised him again, as was beginning to become a pattern.

He could see it in slow motion, though he did nothing to stop it. There was nearly a dozen ways he could have stopped her, and still he just let it happen.

Her hand shot out and grabbed his. There was a look of concern painted clearly on her oval face. James had to hold back a sigh when he felt the heat. The shaking hand that held his radiated warmth and was sinfully soft. His eyes shot to hers because he knew what was to come.

It took only a moment for it to register and he watched the transformation of her features but he'd never quite seen it like this. It was the moment that she realized his appendage was not like hers.

Now both of her terrible and wonderfully warm hands cupped a cold metal one, and he watched in muted fear as she lifted it up to her face for inspection. But there was no disgust nor fear. Fascination and wonder and some other heady thing played across her open face with such vivid detail that he felt swept away by it.

This woman… Darcy Lewis, held the creation of evil men as if she were holding a child. Gentle and calm, her face lit with wondrous curiosity. Her nearness and warmth, both in kindness and touch, had thrown all of his carefully built plans into chaos.

The thud of his heart was so loud he was sure the woman could hear it. It was all made worse by the fact that she was was completely unpredictable. He stood frozen to the ground, holding his breath for whatever she would say next.

It didn't take long, but her words sliced through the spell that had been laid.

"Are you a bad guy?" Her voice was small, a whisper no louder than the rustle of the leaves. Despite this, her stormy blue eyes remained bold behind her black rimmed glasses.

He simply nodded, still not accustomed to using his voice. That and he really didn't want to say aloud the thing he hated to be true.

But then she tilted her head slightly, a few strands of thick brown hair falling from the loose knot atop her head. "Nope." She declared slowly, as if it were a simple fact. "I don't think so." Her reactions to him were giving him whiplash and on top of his exhaustion, he was more than ready to keel over and sleep for a few more years.

As he couldn't figure her out, he'd need to retreat for some much needed time to think. James was resolved to clear his head of this woman. Of Darcy Lewis, as if it was easy. So he slipped his cold hand from hers, watching the disappointment flitter across her gaze. She didn't follow as he slowly wove through the trees, letting the shadows hide him.

And when he put enough distance between them to turn and watch her unseen, he saw she still stood there, a silly grin on her beautiful face.

"Hope to see you again soon!" She called into the trees, making his body tingle with that terrifying and awful emotion.

It was this that echoed through his brain for many days.