I don't own the MCU or it's characters, and Mina belongs to my friend. Quinn, who is mentioned, is mine.

The Winter Solider.

Mina knew that name, knew who he was… but what was he doing in DC? Why had he attacked Director Fury? What did he have to do with SHIELD? Or, more appropriately, what did he have against SHIELD?

The mutant rose from her desk, drawing her eyes away from the e-mail Quinn had sent, and started pacing around the small room, thankful she had the privacy of an office so she could mull over the news. According to Quinn, Natasha had told Steve the story of her own encounter with the Winter Soldier, and how it matched up with the details of Fury's attack, and then Steve, naturally, had told Quinn. The mention of the Winter Soldier's Russian connections had made Quinn think of Mina, since Quinn knew about the time Mina had spent in a remote Russian prison, and then Quinn had told her friend.

There was no way for Quinn to know that Mina knew the Winter Solider, but Mina wasn't sure how she felt about the reminder of her past—she certainly didn't want to spend too much time thinking about it—but she was grateful Quinn had thought of her and had thought to tell her; that was better than having the information surprise her. She wasn't over it, past it, or even close yet, but… well, she wasn't going to get over the past by avoiding it. She'd be doing that long enough. The time in the Russian prison was the worst of Mina's life, and she wanted closure, or something that would help her move past it. She'd never been sure how to go about getting either of those things though, especially with Lucas dead.

She sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair, pushing the auburn waves back from her face. Maybe the reappearance of the Winter Soldier would mean closure, somehow. Maybe this would be the last time she'd ever have to face that dark chapter…

With another, more aggravated sigh, Mina pulled her jacket and bag over her shoulders and left her office. As she stepped into the elevator and descended towards the lobby of the Triskelion, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering into the past, no matter how hard she tried.

"Mina—Mina! Wake up!"

The rough accent broke through the haze surrounding her mind. Mina forced her eyes open and looked around, her sluggish mind trying to keep up, tell her what she was seeing. She sucked in a deep breath when the reality of her and her partner's situation finally hit her. A fit of coughing overtook her with that inhalation, and when she recovered, when she was blinking the tears from her eyes, Mina met Lucas's gaze. The bare flicker of a smile passed over her lips, and Lucas returned a similar expression; she must have been unconscious for a while. Lucas didn't worry easily.

"Looks like we've really landed in it this time," she muttered, dropping her head back against the wall of her cell and closing her eyes. The room was still spinning slightly.

Lucas coughed a laugh. "Looks that way." He reached through the bars dividing their cells and squeezed her shoulder. Mina shuffled closer to the bars, thankful that, for the moment anyway, they were still together. She took his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Mina nodded, swallowing past the dryness in her throat. "I think I'm fine… maybe a bump on the head, some bruises, but nothing major."

"I feel 'yet' may be appropriate at the end of that sentence."

Mina's answering laugh was rough and pulled at the dry in flesh in her mouth—she really needed some water. "I think you might be right. Are you okay?" Lucas nodded as well, but there was something in his face telling Mina that wasn't exactly true, but Lucas had never been the kind to admit to pain he could handle, and Mina knew better than to push. So, instead, she asked, "Were we drugged?"

"Yeah. Don't know with what though."

Mina gave him the best indignant look she could muster. "Do you really think it matters what we were drugged with?"

"No, I guess it doesn't."

The pair lapsed into silence, Lucas half-leaning on the bar and Mina propped against the wall, their hands still clasped, connecting them to each other. The world had come fully into focus and stabilized, both occurrences Mina counted as a blessing. She didn't know where they were, and Lucas didn't either—he would have told her if he did—but judging from the temperature and the parameters of their last mission, they were somewhere in Russia. Which wasn't a good thing. The Russians weren't exactly known for their fair treatment of spies. And if they were somewhere in the frozen deserts of Russia, escape would be futile, even if they managed to get out of the building, they might never be found or find their way to civilization.

They were stuck here.

Mina closed her eyes and sighed, wishing that, for once, she could keep her mind from turning to the darkest outcome possible. Virtue of growing up a mutant, having to hide and lie, she supposed, traits only exacerbated by her training as a spy. Maybe that career choice hadn't been the best.

Heavy footfalls roused Mina and Lucas from their thoughts. They shared a look as they let go of each other, and then turned their attention to the hallway in front of their cells. A few seconds later, the footsteps joined with voices speaking in rapid Russian and two guards appeared, wearing body armour and holding big guns in their hands. Mina spotted hunting knives at their belts and smelled at least three more guns between the two of them.

At least we know for sure we're in Russia, she mused.

Mina narrowed her eyes as she listened to their conversation, focusing on her knowledge of the Russian language.

"I can't believe he's coming back here already," the smaller one said. "He was just here—it's always a nightmare when he's here."

"It's not like he has a choice in anything he does. He's brainwashed."

"That's an urban legend. He's just a head case."

Both Mina and Lucas leaned towards the guards as they drew closer, curious to know who they were speaking about. Neither of the guards seemed to notice their audience. Mina wish she could move closer, to better pick up on changes in heartbeat and voice tone, but she didn't want to risk drawing attention.

"It's the truth," the taller guard assured his partner.

"It doesn't matter. The Winter Soldier scares the shit out of my and I don't like having him around, with all his handlers—that entire group is scary as shit. And that metal arm? Jesus Christ." The guard shook himself, like he was shivering. "The last time he was here, three people died."

"Three inmates died."

The conversation faded as the guards passed, the newest inmates both filled with dread and questions. Mina and Lucas—hell, everyone in the global intelligence community—had heard of the Winter Solider. He was a legend.

Some didn't believe he existed, because there was never a shred of evidence aside from his bullets, and no one could ever describe him, if there were any witnesses left. He'd never been caught on film. Others believed he was real, but didn't believe he was capable of everything attributed to him. Most didn't know what to make of the whispers and rumours and just hoped they never had occasion to find out the truth for themselves. He was a ghost, a force of nature, the bogeyman of the intelligence world, credited with all the highest profile assassinations since World War II. It didn't make any sense—how could a deadly assassin be so old?—but somehow, even that doubt, that question, didn't make him any less terrifying.

Mina looked through the bars at Lucas, whose guarded expression told her just how on edge the news had put him. Locked in a Russian prison that was to play host to the Winter Solider? Identity as MI5 agents known? This was not going to go well, especially if they resorted to torture, which they probably would; Mina wasn't sure she could keep her abilities hidden under torture. No one at MI5 knew about her mutation and she didn't know what would happen if they found out. She was sure she could make some pretty educated guesses though. She could also make some educated guesses what would happen if the Russians found out.

None of them were good.

Mina pulled her stiff legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, putting her forehead to her knees, and forcing herself to breathe deeply, slowly. She could feel her mutation pushing at her from the inside, like an animal trying to break out. If she'd been alone, and somewhere safe, she would have given in, transformed into an animal and curled up somewhere dark and cool and hidden. Let the stress and panic run from her body. But she couldn't give in, not there in her cell, not even in the wake of the vague thoughts of turning into a massive bear and breaking her and Lucas out.

She would not let the Russians know her secret, she couldn't let them get a hold of her, study her. She wouldn't be the one to endanger the rest of her kind by exposing them… If there were, in fact, more mutants.

"Mina?"

She looked at Lucas again, and the worry in his eyes brought a small smile to her face. "I'm fine," she said, exhaling a shaky breath. "This is just… a lot of information to take in right after waking up." She shook her head, ran her fingers back through her rather grubby hair, her expression sombre. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a commotion in the hall stopped her.

Lucas and Mina turned their attention to the hallways again, expecting to see more guards or a new prisoner being led to his cell. Instead, two men in long white coats and bowties appeared, steely eyes locked on the hall in front of them. Another man appeared behind them and Mina found it impossible to study the rest of the procession, and there was quite a procession. The third man looked young—late 20s, maybe—and incredibly strong. He was dressed entirely in black, and his left arm was encased in or made of metal, a red star painted on the artificial shoulder. He wore a mask around the lower half of his face, leaving his eyes exposed, and they roamed over his surroundings, his confusion and fright plain. He looked like he didn't know where he was. He turned his head as the group passed in front of the cells and those eyes found Mina's.

The Winter Soldier held her gaze for as long as he could and Mina couldn't look away. He could be no one else but the infamous assassin, but he was far, far from what Mina had expected.

The memory of her first encounter with the Winter Soldier faded from her mind as Mina walked across the Triskelion's lobby and stepped outside into the spring afternoon, and was quickly replaced by the internal pressure of her mutation; it was a response to stress and anxiety. The sidewalks and parking lots outside the building were packed with the SHIELD employees leaving for the day, and those coming in to keep an eye on things overnight, so it was easy for Mina to slip through the crowd without being noticed. There weren't many who would voluntarily stop and talk to her—in fact, she could count them on one hand and only one of them was in the immediate area—but she didn't want to risk it. She was not in the mood to speak to anyone right then.

Once she was in her car, Mina immediately headed for the park nearest SHIELD's headquarters, and parked as far from the other daytime park goers as she could. Thankfully, it wasn't too busy. She didn't want anyone to see her transform though, and she couldn't wait until she was home to shift in privacy. When she was hidden in the densest brush she could find, Mina sighed into the shift, her skin flowing like water to be replaced with the white-grey fur of her preferred form. The small silver fox freed herself from her clothes and paced around the clearing, shaking out her fur and reveling in the calm her animal form brought out.

No memories, no pressure—just calm.

She would have loved to have gone for a run through the park, maybe find a rabbit or squirrel to chase, but she didn't want to risk causing any sort of panic; foxes weren't exactly common in the middle of D.C. So, she contented herself with exploring the immediate area around the patch of brush she had changed in. Leaves, sticks, bugs, flowers. Nothing exciting, but something to do.

She was shoulder-deep in a burrow of some kind when the wind picked up and the scent hit her nose.

Mina lifted her head and inhaled deeply, the mingling scents of metal, blood, leather, and sweat filling her nose, her mind, and bringing her unwanted memories back to the forefront.

Mina collapsed on the floor of her cell—now a cozy, one-occupant-only room with a heavy metal door and absolutely no other comforts—and sucked in a few deep breaths. The air was tainted with the scents of waste and sweat and blood but right then, after breathing more water than air for the past few hours, it was the sweetest air she could imagine.

But then, then the pressure, the pain started to build, like animals trying to claw their way out from inside her. The pressure was familiar, but far from comforting, and Mina had to force herself to focus.

When her head had stopped spinning and all of her body felt oxygenated again, when she could move, Mina pushed herself to her hands and knees and crawled into the cleanest corner of the cell. She pulled her knees to her chest and tried to breathe slow and deep, tried to ignore the pain building out of the pressure.

Breathe through the pain, she told herself. The pressure, the pain, was increasing. You can't change in here, you can't change in here… Breathe through it.

The pressure reached the point of nearly unbearable and then immediately flew past it to completely unbearable. Mina slammed her head back against the concrete wall and pressed her fingers into the floor, fingers flexing like she would dig through it. She felt her nails elongate into claws and she screamed, as loud as she could, pulled her hands away from the ground, lest she leave claw marks in the concrete. Her fingers were locked like claws, shaking violently where she held them, pain lacing up and down her arms. She screamed again.

Not here, not here, not here!

After several long minutes when Mina was sure she'd break her fingers or teeth or crack her skull, the pressure ebbed, sinking back to the near-constant state of dull pain she'd been living with for however long she and Lucas had been locked in the Russian hell. She sagged against the wall and frantically rubbed at her face, erasing all evidence of the tears, the lines the left in the grime on her cheeks.

The harder she rubbed though, the harder she cried, until ragged sobs shook her body.

Mina felt helpless and that her situation was hopeless. She wanted to change. Knew she could escape if she changed. But then they'd kill Lucas. They'd kill her if they caught her. Or run tests on her. They'd hunt other mutants. She couldn't change. She couldn't run.

She kept wiping at her face, sucking in shallow breaths, trying to achieve her normal control, but the deep breaths she needed wouldn't come. She began to hyperventilate, to cough.

Her fingernails became claws again, her teeth fangs, and she screamed.

The door banged open.

The sound of the metal grating against the concrete was enough to draw Mina temporarily out of her descent, her features reverting back to human. She looked up, eyes wide, to find one of the guards standing there. She was familiar with that guard, with his shaved head and tattooed, veiny arms. She knew him far more intimately than she wanted to and the sight of him made her cringe. The mutant withdrew in on herself, pulling her hands to her chest and pressing her face to her knees. She heard someone muttering "no" over and over and knew it was her.

"I've got a special surprise for you woman," the guard sneered.

"I don't want it," Mina managed to say. Her Russian had never been perfect, but she got the message across, even though her tears and her panic.

The guard grabbed the back of Mina's threadbare shirt. "You don't have a choice." His breath smelled of booze and cigarettes. His hand on her cheek, thumb rubbing away tears, made her want to vomit. "You'll like this surprise."

Mina fought as he started to walk, dragging her behind him, but his grip on her shirt was too tight. The second she tried to wiggle out of the shirt, he tossed her over his shoulder, being none too careful of her head, which smacked against the doorjamb on the way into the hall. Dazed, she flailed against him, trying to land a kick, a punch, a bite, anything. Her hits were ineffectual, hampered by the hit to head and torture-weakened body.

She didn't give up though, and by the time they reached wherever they were going, she was even wearier.

"You are going to wish you cooperated in a second," the guard told her, laughing.

Mina looked from the guard to her new surroundings and found herself in a theatre of sorts, a circular area surrounded by raised stands. It looked like the old operating theatres, but it smelled of blood and death and sweat and piss and fear. The seats were filled with guards and other personnel, all of whom were drinking and smoking and laughing. She could see money changing hands. Panic rose inside her again, flaring from the ember it'd faded to, and burning brightly; pressure started to build inside again, but she tried to ignore it, tried to force it back.

She threw herself against the wall, pressed herself to it like she could disappear into it. For the first time, she seriously considered changing forms, but not to run or fight or escape. To hide.

Whatever she was here for, it couldn't be good.

And indeed, it wasn't.

A second after she had the thought, the doors at the opposite end of the theatre opened and the Winter Soldier strode through, wearing only a pair of black pants. His chest and arms were covered in sweat and blood, and as she couldn't see any cuts on him anywhere except his bare feet, she was guessing none of it was his. His metal arm shone in the dim light, the red star painted on the shoulder sinister as the emotionless set of his face.

But his eyes…

As his gaze found Mina's across the impromptu arena, she realized how sad he looked. Sad and lost. She was reminded of her first day in the prison, when she'd seen him walking through the hall. He'd been wearing a mask then, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes—it hadn't changed. Something inside Mina ached with that expression, but she wasn't fooled into security. The Winter Soldier was a killing machine and he would do what he was told. She didn't know why they were using him to fight in such a setting, but she knew she didn't stand a chance of winning.

Following some secret signal, the assassin launched himself at her, hands outstretched, fingers rigid, gears softly whirring in his metal arm. Mina scrambled out of his path, her thoughts about him from mere seconds before chased away. She found her way to her feet in time to dodge another assault. The audience booed. Summoning up what she could remember of her training, Mina attempted to meet the next advance. The Winter Soldier came at her like he would tackle her to the ground. She took a step back at the last second, out of the circle of his arms, and landed a kick to the side of his head.

He looked at her, eyes slightly wide with surprise, and cocked his head to one side, stringy locks of his hair fanning out. His lips were pressed together, a thin white line. Mina brought her hands up and fell back into a fighting stance, the assembled guards cheering. Maybe they hadn't seen a good fight in a while. She wished she felt confident that she could give them a good fight, but she was already feeling the exertion; she'd been locked up for far too long.

She ducked under a swing from the Winter Soldier and moved in close, like a boxer. The key to surviving this, Mina thought, would be to move in ways the assassin didn't expect. The kick had caught him off guard, and so did the few punches she managed to land before darting away, out of his reach. Surprise, and staying away from that metal arm.

Unfortunately, Mina's strength, her stamina, didn't last much longer, and the Winter Soldier didn't seem fazed by the few hits she managed to land. He was a machine, moving and dodging and attacking without even a laboured breath. The crowd was losing their minds, screaming for him to kill her already, to tear her fucking head off, and the world had become a cacophony of smells and sounds and tastes. She couldn't focus. The hits came more frequently and Mina had no idea how much longer she would last. She wanted to change, to get away, but more than ever, she couldn't give into the desire to change.

She felt the cold metal of the Winter Soldier's arm encircle her throat, the sudden change in temperature bringing her out of the fog enough to realize the end was near.

Mina wished she could have seen Lucas once more before she died. It had been so long since she'd seen him.

The edges of her vision started to turn black as the Winter Soldier increased the pressure. Mina struggled, fingers wrapped tightly around that metal noose, feet scrambling at the ground, at his legs, as she tried to break free.

"Don't fight it," he said in gruff English. His voice was quiet, mouth next to her ear.

Everything Mina was feeling in that moment was replaced with confusion. The cheers of the crowd faded to the background, the pain in her throat, everything. She would have turned if she could have, to look the Winter Soldier in the eye, but she knew even if she could, she wouldn't see anything helpful in his face. He would look like the ruthless killing machine he was. But something in his voice—why would he say that? Why wouldn't he just kill her?—something in his voice told her to listen.

Mina slowed her struggling and then went limp against that metal arm, and, telling herself she was crazy, let the Winter Solider do with her what he would.

The roar of the guards intensified. The Winter Soldier loosened his hold on Mina. She forced herself to breathe shallowly, less she give the ruse away. He tossed her roughly over his shoulder and left the arena, the noise nearly vanishing as the doors shut behind them. Mina didn't move. She did open her eyes a tiny bit though, just enough to see a body in the dingy hall. She shut her eyes again.

The Winter Solider dropped her on the floor a second later. "They will find you here soon. Don't move until then."

Mina opened her eyes and found his dark gaze on her. For a few heartbeats, they remained silent, staring at each other. Mina wanted to say something, but found she had no idea what could possibly be said in the situation, so she just held that steady gaze, and gave a small nod. After a few more seconds, the Winter Soldier turned and headed back towards the arena, presumably to face his next opponent.

Mina lay there, half-propped against the wall, and let herself hurt.

Mina followed the familiar, impossible smell though the park and into the city proper, her mind racing all the while. The street where the Winter Soldier had attacked Fury was nearby, sure, but the attack should have occurred too long ago for Mina to pick up specific scents. She was half-sure she was imagining it, but she was completely sure she didn't care. The Winter Soldier was the only link to her past, the only possible way she could even start finding closure, and she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to find him.

She tried to stay in the allies, on the less-busy streets, out of sight. She didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention or scare anyone, but she was finding it hard to care as much as she probably should. She just wanted to follow the scent; her mind was filled with nothing else.

The scent only got stronger the closer she got to the scene of the attack, and soon she was gazing on the bullet holes and broken glass of the street. Burn marks and shards of metal decorated the pavement, and there was still police tape and barriers up, blocking off the section where the SUV had been overturned and Fury had escaped, only to die in surgery a few hours later. Mina pushed the scent to the back of her mind, just for a few minutes, just long enough to commit the scene to memory, to inhale the scents of burning pavement and metal, to think of Director Fury. But, it didn't matter how much she filled her nose with other smells, the Winter Soldier's scent still prevailed, and her mind turned only to him.

Mina turned from the scene of the attack and followed the scent along the street, once again wondering why the Winter Solider had attacked Fury. Had that guard all those years ago been right? Was the Winter Soldier brainwashed? Was he being controlled? That would certainly make a lot of things make sense…

Mina shook her head and inhaled deeply, and when the memories came this time, she didn't fight them.

The Winter Soldier's fist connected with Mina's jaw and sent her stumbling backwards into the wall of the arena, the crowd's cheers escalating as she reached back to steady herself, to keep from falling to the floor. She sucked in a breath, spat out the blood that had gathered in her mouth; her cheek must have been cut open on her teeth. Her hands came back up in front of her face and body and she bounced on the balls of her bare feet, the fighting stance second nature again. She advanced on the assassin, ready to meet his next attack, or dole out one of her own.

Facing down the Winter Solider in the makeshift fighting ring had become something she looked forward to, something she took a perverse sort of joy in doing.

When the prison doctors had found Mina lying in the hall after her first fight with the Winter Soldier, they'd patched her up and left her in the infirmary. That had to have been at least four or five years ago. One of the prison wardens had come to speak to Mina then, and told her the guards had enjoyed her fight with the Winter Soldier and that it was lucky she had survived, because they were going to use her as entertainment whenever the Winter Soldier was in town. He'd laughed and joked like the news was a great honour, but Mina had remained impassive, expressionless, and let her anger fester inside when all she wanted to do was poke the warden's eyes out.

However, it turned out being regular entertainment meant better food, and a proper bed, and since she healed fast and healed well thanks to her mutation, it could have been a lot worse. Mina recovered her strength and she trained. She made herself stronger. The Winter Soldier wasn't at the Russian prison often, but when he was, he and Mina fought and they fought hard. It was a few fights before Mina got any sort of reaction from the assassin, but she eventually had. And it had made her proud.

Mina's new status also meant she was watched closely. She had a guard with her at all times. He didn't touch her, or talk to her, but he was always there. Mina had briefly entertained the idea of shifting shape and breaking out once she was stronger, but the threat of more torture, Lucas's death, and of the Russians hunting mutants kept her from doing so. Her guard was big enough and strong enough to act as a reminder of all that was at stake.

She had actually been allowed to see Lucas, once it had become clear she wasn't going to resist existing as a source of entertainment, and she had found a very different man in his place. He was harder, and covered in tattoos, but it had only taken moments for him to drop the façade, to return to the Lucas Mina knew and cared for. It had been a brief reunion, but a good one, and when Mina was returned to her new quarters, she was filled with a new desire to fight. She would have hesitated to call it a renewed hope, but it was something, and that was more than she'd had in a long time.

She funneled it right into her training and her fighting. Her meetings with the Winter Soldier had only increased in savageness the longer they'd progressed and that day, that day she had awoken thinking about the life she'd been taken from in England, and she wanted to hurt someone.

Mina blocked a grab from the Winter Soldier, and lunged forward, driving her foot forward into the assassin's stomach with a hearty grunt. He took a step back, the wind rushing from his lungs, and Mina ducked under his metal arm as it swung around; she'd been hit by it before and didn't care to repeat the occurrence if she could avoid it. The Winter Soldier huffed and advanced again. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her across the arena. She would have hit the wall had she not managed to twist herself in the air and slide to a stop, fingers splitting as she gripped the rough stone floor. Mina didn't have time to do anything else though, not even move out of the way as her opponent barreled towards her.

His foot hit her collarbone and she could have sworn she heard the bone creak. It didn't break, but her left arm went numb, knocking her off balance. Pulling her arm to her chest, Mina coiled herself back on her heels and lunged at the Winter Soldier, tackling him back onto the ground, her right shoulder digging into his stomach. He tucked his feet up and pushed her back, but Mina held on. Her fists slammed into his face, neck, and shoulders. The Winter Soldier blocked the majority of the assault, and as soon as he could, grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her over his head. Her back hit the ground and Mina was left breathless.

The guards pulled the Winter Soldier off her when she stopped fighting back.

It was probably twenty minutes later that she found herself in the infirmary, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't think I can survive much more of this."

"They haven't told me to kill you yet."

Mina sighed and propped herself up on her elbows so she could narrow her eyes at the Winter Soldier where he sat at the end of the examination table; the expression would have been more effective had her one eye not been nearly swollen shut. He met her glare with his usual blank stare, and the impact of his expression wasn't lessened any by the bandages on his face, neck, and shoulders. Mina might not have been as scared of him as she had when they'd first met in the arena, but she was still wary around him. She looked away first.

She and the assassin had been having these weird conversations and encounters for a long time, but she still wasn't entirely sure how to navigate them.

"And when they do?" she asked.

"I will kill you."

Mina dropped back onto the table, laced her fingers together over her stomach. "Of course you will," she said. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting him to say, but apparently it wasn't that. "How much longer do you think they'll have us at one another's throats?"

"I…"

She heard the shift in his voice and knew what she'd see when she looked up at the Winter Soldier again. It happened sometimes—they'd be in the middle of talking or sitting silently in the same room and his face would change. It wasn't always sudden. Sometimes it happened gradually, but the outcome was always the same. He would look at her, eyes slightly wider, teller her he was lost. His mouth would part and he would look around the room, confused. Sometimes it would only last a few seconds, sometimes minutes, and sometimes it would come and go for a while.

Mina never really knew what she should do in these situations, but continuing to talk to him had always worked to keep him from freaking out in the past. She wished she knew what was wrong with him, what was being done to him by those goons who went everywhere with him.

"I think they'll keep us fighting until you kill me by accident or something," she said.

He gave his head a small shake. "Maybe."

Mina swung her legs over the side of the table and hopped off, moving slowly to sit in the chair next to the Winter Soldier; her body was screaming at her to remain still, but something else, some far baser instinct was telling her to move across the room. "Well, you're more important than I am, at least to the people around here." She settled back in the chair, trying not to sigh in relief when she took her weight off her feet. "And I'm certainly not going to be able to kill you. I might be able to put up a good fight but you… you've got like superhuman stamina and strength and I can't compete with that for long."

He narrowed his eyes at her, almost like he was trying to place her face. Mina shifted in the chair so she was facing him. Their eyes locked.

Mina's brows furrowed as she watched several emotions play over the normally impassive face. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

"I don't… who are you? Where are we?"

She pressed her lips together. This was not the first time the Winter Soldier's memory had abandoned him when she was around, but it never got any easier to watch. Everyone should be in control of their own mind. "I'm Mina. You've been beating me to a pulp every so often for about five years, and we're in the infirmary of a Russian prison. I'm an inmate here and you… well, I don't know why you're here."

His breathing increased, his eyes remained wide, but fear had replaced the confusion; he looked like a different person. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his eyes dancing back and forth like he was reliving something, seeing a place far different from the sterile white walls of the infirmary. She'd never seem him like this before. Usually he calmed back down when she answered his questions.

Before she could even think about what she was doing, Mina was on her knees in front of the Winter Solider, a hand on either side of his face. "Hey! HEY! Look at me!" Their eyes locked again. Mina pressed her hands a little harder against him, fingertips sliding just into his hair. He grabbed her wrists, but not like he was going to force her hands from him—like he was holding on for his life, like she was an anchor in that moment. "Just breathe," she said. Careful breathing got her through her own near-transformations. Maybe it would help him. "Breathe through it."

Mina kept her eyes on his as she sucked in a deep breath. She exhaled slowly, and when she inhaled again, the Winter Solider inhaled with her. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"Keep breathing and it'll pass," she assured him.

The door opened then, and the doctors or scientists or whatever they were—they were part of the Winter Soldier's entourage, in any case—came in, pulling Mina from their charge and lifting him to his feet. Mina said nothing, since they never paid attention to her anyways, but she did keep her eyes locked to the assassin's for as long as she could as they pulled him from the room.

She found him in an alley several miles from the site of Fury's attack.

He smelled like leather and metal and sweat and blood like always, but also like… like Steve? And Natasha? As Mina crept closer, she saw the Winter Soldier was without his mask and he was wounded. Perhaps he and Steve and Natasha had fought. That would have to be it. Natasha was certainly out for his blood after Fury's death.

The Winter Soldier was sitting at the back of the alley, knees bent, arms braced on his thighs, and he was breathing deeply, slowly, eyes wide. She could smell fear and the sharp edge of panic and Mina knew before she was next to him that he was lost, that his memories were confusing him.

Mina stopped in front of him, stared at him until he looked up, conscious of someone watching him. She shifted back to human, slower than she was capable of, her eyes never leaving his. She ended up crouched, naked, hands lifted to show she was unarmed. She remained still, giving the understandably startled assassin time to realize who was sitting in front of him, if he would even remember her. It had been a while since they'd crossed swords, so to speak.

After the encounter in the infirmary, they had only met in the arena three more times, and each time he was whisked away immediately afterwards. Something had changed in their bizarre relationship however. Their fights were less savage, and more liking sparing matches—they were almost fun. There were still more than the fair share of injuries being passed around, but the tone had changed. None of the guards had seemed to notice, as they were still excited by the prospect of watching the duo duke it out, but the Winter Soldier's handlers certainly had, and they clearly didn't like it.

But would that connection be enough for him to realize who the naked woman was in front of him after all that time?

Apparently so.

The Winter Soldier's hands, which he'd brought up when she'd begun to shift, dropped back down and he cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed as he tried to place her face. Mina could pinpoint the second he realized he knew her, and the second he figured out where he knew her from.

"You."

Mina nodded, a small smile on her lips. She was glad he knew who she was. She was beginning to realize how foolish it had been to approach him in the alleyway when she'd had no idea what condition he was in. He could have killed her easily, quickly. But he knew her, so she was more likely to make it out of here alive. "Hi," she said.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.

She dropped her hands, but remained where she was, several feet away from the assassin. "My government exchanged a Russian prisoner for me, and I came to DC after I was released to work with SHIELD. I caught your scent as I was leaving work and tracked it here." The truth was always the best idea with him.

He watched her for a few seconds. "What are you?"

"A mutant."

The Winter Soldier lapsed into silence, eyes dropping to the ground. Even from that angle, Mina could see the irises moving back and forth as he remembered. She'd realized at some point that, if the rumours were true, and he'd been around since World War II, that he would have a hundred years' worth of memories floating around, assaulting him when he lost his sense of reality and time. She couldn't image what that felt like.

Mina crept closer to the figure from her past and positioned herself beside him. He turned his head, watching her move. Their eyes locked from a few inches away, much closer than they'd ever been.

"I don't know who I am," he whispered. "Or what I'm doing here." He exhaled a shaky breath. "I don't know what I am, but… the man on the bridge…" His gaze fell away, into the past, or what he could remember of it. "I see fragments. Don't know what's real."

Mina placed a hand on his knee. He looked at the place of contact, and then back up at the mutant beside him. She saw the recognition slipping from his eyes and withdrew her hand.

"Got a lock on the asset," a voice said from a crackling radio at the Winter Soldier's belt. "Heading in for pick up."

That was her cue to get out of there. "I'll find a way to help you," she told him.

He looked at her with the expressionless face she had become very familiar with through all those years, and she held that gaze as she began to shift, once again slower than she was capable of. Even as a fox, she held that gaze. He reached out his metal hand and she nudged his fingers with her nose, before she turned and ran from the alley, parking herself at the mouth to watch as a black SUV pulled up and the Winter Soldier was ushered inside. As the car drove off, Mina turned back towards the park and ran.

She had what she'd been after—something to help her move beyond the horrors of her past. She would find a way to help the Winter Solider. She would help him find out who he was and what had happened to him.