AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this about a year and a half ago and it was my first fanfic ever...so it might be a little rough. As far as the timeline goes, I put this story sometime after The Winter Soldier and Season 1 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was only supposed to be a night out, Jemma thought. Just a night to herself in her flat where she could take a break from all the craziness that was S.H.I.E.L.D. Of course it was that night when HYDRA thought it necessary to blow open the door and knock her unconscious. Now here she was in a holding cell, her ankle shackled to the heavy metal bed frame and a hell of a bump on her head.

Looking at the metal holding her to the bed, she was disappointed to find no locking mechanism or anything that could help her remove it. She tested the strength, already knowing she'd never in a million years be strong enough to break it on her own. The sound of chains rattling must've alerted those guarding her because the door swung open, nearly blinding her as the light spilled into her once darkness filled cell.

"Doctor Jemma Simmons. Such a pleasure to meet you."

She flinched at the thick German accent and what that meant, but looked at him anyways. He was ordinary in appearance: mousy brown slicked back and dark brown eyes set in a somewhat small face. There was nothing in his eyes…and that scared her. She couldn't help but compare him to Ward right before he sent her and Fitz to the bottom of the ocean.

"You are probably wondering what you are doing here."

She stubbornly set her jaw, refusing to speak. Her hands were tightly clutching the thin sheets and her heart was pounding in her ears. Whatever the reason was, Jemma doubted it was anything remotely good.

He didn't seem perturbed by her lack of response. "Since Whitehall's untimely death, HYDRA has been having trouble finding an individual with a vast knowledge of human and alien biology. You my dear…have that knowledge."

"I'm not sharing any of that with you."

Suddenly a hand was gripping her chin and forcing her to look into those dead eyes. "I'm sorry to say you will have no choice in the matter that is…if you want to live." He smiled as he stood up. "I could always send you back to Coulson piece by piece. It would be a shame to mar that pretty face of yours."

She swallowed. She wasn't like May or the others. She couldn't hide away her emotions under a mask of indifference…she was only a lab rat, not trained to deal with torture. "What do I have to do?"

"We'll start you off with something simple." He said something in German to the man next to him and he quickly pulled out a black hood and forced it over her head.

She heard the sound of the shackle being unlocked and she was then pulled to her feet, which were bare at that time they took her. The concrete felt like ice as she was shoved down a long corridor and they made a few indiscernible turns before a door was opened and the hood was yanked off. Giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust the sudden brightness again, she took stock of the medical tools and the bed that was currently unoccupied.

"Your patient is on his way." He said before the door shut behind her.

Jemma fought the urge to curl into a ball. She was an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and she wouldn't let them see her break down…at least not here. Digging around in one of the cupboards, she found medical booties and pulled on a few layers to cover her exposed feet. She was in the middle of sterilizing the tools when the door opened. Setting the instruments back into the sink, she turned around and had to use the counter to stand upright.

She'd heard the rumors of the Winter Soldier, the ghost assassin with a metal arm, throughout her years at S.H.I.E.L.D. before it fell, but she wasn't prepared to see him in the flesh. He was tall, nearly six feet, with a tangled mass of chin length black hair and dead blue eyes, a mask covering the rest of his face. She forced her eyes away from his when he dumped the body he had slung over his shoulder onto the bed, his metal arm gleaming in the bright light.

It was Ward. Even with his face beaten to a pulp, she recognized him. She quickly scanned him over and noticed the nonfatal gunshot wound to his shoulder. She looked up at the sound of mechanical whirling and saw the Winter Soldier leaving. She quickly noticed the injury to his flesh and blood shoulder, the wound itself looked like a bullet from a high caliber sniper rifle, a weapon that Ward favored. It was still oozing blood.

Without thinking she went to get a closer look at the injury and found herself pinned to the closed door, the metal hand closing around her throat. Those eyes held her for a moment before she choked out, "You're injured…let me look at it."

He dropped his hand and stepped back, those unnerving eyes following her as she slowly made her way over to the medical instruments and dragged over a stool. She pulled on gloves and motioned for him to come over. He was apprehensive, if his rigid stance was anything to go by.

"I do not need your help." His voice, muffled by the mask, was as flat as his eyes. "I will remove the bullet myself."

"The muscles in your shoulder are shredded and the bullet is probably imbedded in the bone. I don't think that's possible." She used her stern voice. "Please sit down so I can help." She wasn't sure why she was helping the assassin or offering to help in this case. She was prisoner in a HYDRA facility with their deadliest assassin and she was offering to stitch him up.

He removed the mask and his weaponry before taking off the one sleeved tactical gear and long sleeve shirt. He hardly flinched as blood ran down his bare back. He sat like a stone in the chair, the only sign that showed he was even breathing was the blood that steadily trickled from the wound.

Of their own accord, her eyes were pulled to what was once his left arm. Where the metal attached to his body was shiny pink scar tissue that looked as though the metal was fused to his body with extreme heat. She forced herself to focus on the more recent injury. She went for a syringe when his hand held her wrist in a tight grip.

"Remove the bullet." He let go of her hand when she nodded.

Grabbing the forceps, she tried to be gentle when she dug them into the flesh to retrieve the bullet. She was right. The bullet was imbedded in the fractured mess of his scapula and she tried to pull it out gently, but she stopped as the bones ground together. When he showed no indication that he felt the pain at all, Jemma wondered how much it took for him actually feel it at all. Finding the bullet again, she pulled, harder this time, and the bullet came free with a sickening suction sound. She set the forceps and the bullet down and turned to grab a bandage, but he was already on his feet and pulling his gear back on. He turned to look at her and she studied his sharp cheekbones and the shadow of stubble along his jaw. Paired with those eyes, it looked so familiar. Where had she seen him before?

Before she could say anything, he was gone. As the door shut, she heard movement from the bed. Ward was coming to. Quickly she noticed the restraints lying on table. They weren't there a second ago… Deciding it a good course of action, she cuffed his feet and good arm to the bed. Stripping off the used gloves, she threw them into the sink and pulled on another before she cut open his shirt to get a better look at the bullet wound.

His torso was a patchwork of bruises, probably courtesy of the Winter Soldier. She prodded along his ribcage, counting at least four cracked ribs. Reaching for a clean pair of forceps, she was none too gentle as she dug in and pulled the bullet out, eliciting a pained groan. He didn't deserve the luxury of painkillers… She was threading the needle when he finally spoke.

"It's nice to see a familiar face."

"I couldn't say the same." Without looking at his face, she started stitching the wound, ignoring the flinch as the needle pierced skin. She could feel his eyes on her and when she finally finished, she met his dark eyes. That moment before she was ejected from the Bus flashed through her mind. Those eyes were empty…they held nothing.

"You used to be nice Jemma."

She fought the urge to cringe when he said her name. "I changed." She placed the bandage over his shoulder, probably pressing down more than necessary when she taped it up. Walking away she picked up the bloody instruments, gloves, and the bullets, throwing them in the biohazard waste container.

"How long have you been here?"

She turned on the water, ignoring him. It wouldn't matter it she talked or not, he would eventually figure it out. He wasn't a Specialist for nothing. Drying off her hands, she walked over the door and opened it.

The man from earlier walked in with a smile. "Thank you Doctor Simmons. Take her back to her cell."

That hood was over her head again and she quickly found herself back in her cell, her ankle once again shackled to the bed frame. There was a bottle of water and sandwich waiting for her on the table. Feeling the lid of the bottle, she noticed it was sealed. No sedatives then. She took a sip and tasted only water. She waited a few minutes before drinking half the bottle and setting it down. She pushed the food away and laid down, trying to get comfortable.

The assassin's familiarity finally hit her. She remembered being in Coulson's office for debriefing and seeing the black and white photo on his desk. It was of Captain America and the Howling Commandoes. The man to the right of Captain Rogers, who had an arm slung over his broad shoulders with a roguish smile, was that familiar face. His hair was longer now and his eyes are devoid of the happiness in that photo, but the Winter Soldier was Steve Rogers' childhood friend, Bucky Barnes.

She tried to make sense of it all, but she had no science to explain how he was here when he should've died in 1945. Then she thought about it. She remembered Coulson telling the story of the Howling Commandoes with such gusto. She remembered the sadness in his tone as he told them how Bucky had been taken by Zola and that Captain Rogers had fought off hundreds of men just to reach him and how two years after, he fell from a train into the Alps and was presumed dead.

The only scenario that made some sense was that HYDRA had injected him with their own version of the super soldier serum because there was no other way he could've survived that fall and only lose an arm. That arm… The metal prosthetic that, while a beautiful work of craftsmanship, was a deadly weapon that had probably killed a lot of people. She remembered the line of scar tissue connecting it to his body and hoped that he wasn't awake when they fused it to him. The amount of pain that would cause…Jemma couldn't even imagine.

The door opened and she immediately sat up.

"How did you do it my dear?"

"How did I do what?" She played with a frayed edge of the blanket, not meeting his eyes. She was forced to look at him. This time, those dead eyes showed interest, of what she wasn't really sure. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"I want to know how were able to restrain the Asset long enough to pull the bullet out."

The Asset? That was what they called him? Probably best not to say she knew who he was. It might help later. "I didn't need to restrain him. He sat down and I pulled the bullet out. End of story."

"Yes, but how? We usually have to restrain him and he really doesn't like restraints."

"I used my stern voice." She sat back. "That's all I have to say on this matter."

He takes a seat at the end of the bed. "You know he killed the last doctor who tried to pull a bullet out? Snapped his neck…such a shame really." He looks at her throat and he had to notice the dark hand shaped bruise around her neck. "Why were you different?"

"Because I treated him like an actual human being." She remembered when she said she only wanted to help. There had been a slight break in that empty mask he always wore and she realized his reluctance to be injected was related to the cruel treatment that was probably done by the other 'doctors'.

"No matter." He waved a guard in and set food and another bottle of water on the table. "Eat up Doctor Simmons, you'll need your strength."

The door shut and she once again found herself in perpetual darkness.