Guest: Thanks for reviewing, and I'm really glad you're liking this. I usually update every Monday, but I'm going to try to switch over to Saturdays because that's easier for my schedule right now. I can't guarantee that I'll post every week, or even just on Saturday, though, so keep your eyes open!

It's only a week into school, guys, and it's already scary hard. As in scary AND hard. :'( What's up with that? My first year of college was fine. It makes me wonder how next year is going to be…

Well, I've been told that it'll get better with time, and I'm hoping that now I've figured out my schedule I can settle down easier – but it's still scary hard.

Also, this is sorta important, so read this. I have a goal for this story of always keeping the review count higher than the chapter count, so right now we're good. But as soon as I have more chapters than reviews the chances of me updating that week go down majorly. Like over 50% (there's me speaking school language). So review! And any reviews on what you want to see happening in this story will be much appreciated. I'm going to make it clear right now that it's not going to be a lemon, though, so if that's what you're looking for you should go look somewhere else.

Now moving on from the ridiculously long author's note

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OC's and my plot, unfortunately.

Chapter 3

Mistakes

(Are For Learning)

Once I was thoroughly 'broken' HYDRA often sent me out on missions, sometimes even with the Winter Soldier, as backup in case anyone got hurt, so that I could get them back on their feet quickly. Sometimes, though, I was the only option they had for combat and I would be sent on my own assassination missions. I wasn't brainwashed, though, and I wasn't voluntarily doing the things like the other people, and so killing wasn't easy for me.

I made a mistake my first time; I left a witness. That was one of the foremost rules in HYDRA: No witnesses. So I had been punished severely as the Winter Soldier was sent to clean up my mess. He was never punished, I remember thinking bitterly when I was stuck back in My Room, nursing my wounds. He was never punished because he never made any mistakes, and there really wasn't a point to punish him; he wouldn't remember it the next time they wiped him. I very rarely witnessed him being reprimanded, and I resolved myself then. Until I escaped, I needed to stop making mistakes. I would let Them turn me into their weapon, because I had to live to tear HYDRA down some day, and I wouldn't survive that long if I kept making mistakes.

The next time I didn't make a mistake, because I learn from my mistakes. My very first mistake, though, was letting HYDRA get its hands on me in the first place, and I'd learned from that mistake, too.

…

Once my head no longer pounded I once again began eating my food – the Soldier already having finished his own – to help with the aching in my stomach caused by days of eating little, as well as hopefully help with the residue pain in my body and head.

It did help, but the pain in my head persisted. It had been a long time since I was on the machine, so even though the pain wasn't near what I had grown used to being exposed to, my resilience had faded and I had forgotten the pain that used to be such a constant in my life.

I had turned the TV off a while ago, the noise hurting my head further, and now that I could move somewhat uninhibited again I turned to the Soldier.

"We need to plan what to do next," I said, even though I knew he had likely already planned our next steps, since it's part of his job description to always be ready for everything. I just needed to be told what his plan was.

"We need to lay low," he said, and I wondered in amazement if that was all he had come up with in the hours I had been recovering, then he continued. "Staying in any place too long isn't an option, so we'll keep moving until things die down and then leave the country." Exactly the kind of plan I was expecting from him. I nodded to show my confirmation, then stood up. His eyes snapped up to me.

"I'm going for a walk," I explained at his unasked question. His eyes narrowed, so I looked at the little clock on the bedside table. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes something happened, so get out of here." His gaze searched mine for another second, face giving nothing away, then he looked back at the wall he had been staring at before. Taking that as approval, I walked out of the door, making sure the key was in my pocket.

Once I had snuck out of the back door I took a deep breath of the clear air, letting it clear some of the haze in my mind. As soon as I could think again sorrow filled my mind, taking the place of the pain, and I began walking nowhere in general, getting the immediate layout of the land around the motel, in case the Soldier and I had to take off without notice. I was aware that he had already done this, but I could waste precious moments in an escape if I didn't know the way as well.

As I walked wherever my feet took me my mind wandered. Was Steve awake yet? I knew that Sam had heard my message by now; was he mad at me? I bet he had told Natasha, too. Another pang went through my heart at the thought of them; I had just gotten comfortable with them, felt accepted, and felt like I might actually have a future with them, and now I was with an assassin who was just as out of touch with the world as I was – more than me, actually.

My hand went up to the necklace of bruises on my throat; I could have died today. I could have died, and no one but the Soldier would have known, because he'd no doubt have gotten rid of my body. Perhaps after a while people might have guessed what had happened, but for a long time the three I had left in D.C. would think I had left them without turning back, and the Soldier wouldn't have anyone to help him.

I had made a mistake, and that mistake had nearly cost my life. I had forgotten to consider what healing the Soldier's mind would do to him. I had forgotten that he had been undergoing treatments for even longer than me, though how often I was unsure, and foolishly thought I could easily heal him. I wouldn't be making that mistake again, though.

I thought back to when I had healed Natasha's bullet wound what felt like an eternity ago and how I was able to partially heal it, receding back before she had been completely healed. Maybe I could do it again with the Soldier.

Realizing that my time was almost up, I finished my walk – now with a map of the surrounding area in my head – and snuck back into the motel. Surprisingly, it only took one swipe this time to open the door, but the room was empty. I listened for a second and heard someone moving around in the bathroom. The movements were familiar in the way I had already associated with the Soldier – dark, careful; secretive – so I turned on the light and settled on the bed while I waited for the Soldier to finish so I could get ready for bed myself.

A moment later the door opened and the Soldier stepped out with his hair still dripping like the night before, and I grabbed my own pile of things, putting the brush I had bought onto his bed in a silent offer and went to the bathroom. Before shutting the door, though, I turned back with a question that had been nagging me for a while now.

"Did it work?" I asked him as he picked up the brush. His head turned partially toward me, so I elaborated. "The healing. Did you remember anything?" He didn't answer for a second, then nodded and turned away from me again. I shut the door in response. Well, at least I knew he wouldn't drop me off in a ditch somewhere, as I had offered him if my theory of being able to heal his mind had been incorrect.

As I showered, my stomach reminded me that we had only eaten one meal today, but I stubbornly reminded it that the meal I'd had was a bigger meal than I'd eaten in a long time. Normally I just looked for food all day and was able to keep somewhat full that way, but HYDRA had trained me to build my endurance. I could easily go days without food, as I knew the Soldier could, so I didn't worry about it more than that. I'd just make sure we ate more tomorrow.

I finished up and then walked out again, taking the brush from the Soldier's bed so I could brush the tangles from my own hair.

"Do you want to try again?" I asked him, wrestling with a knot in my annoyingly long hair. Something flashed across the Soldier's face quickly as I watched, disappearing as soon as it came, but I knew it was there. It took me a second to identify it, but once I had given my best guess I figured I was wrong; even though I was getting better at identifying emotions, I still wasn't very good at it.

"No," was all he said. I blinked in surprise. I waited for him to explain, but he pointedly ignored me.

"I made a mistake," I explained. "I know what I did wrong now, so I won't do it again." He didn't say anything, but his face stayed closed off and I knew he was staying with his previous statement. Guilt flared up in me, too, when I realized that I was right in my earlier guess; he did feel guilt. He felt bad for attacking me when I was trying to help, and now I felt guilty because if I had thought it through better he wouldn't be going through this.

"I'm sorry," I repeated from earlier. I took my shoes off, stuffing my socks in them viciously as I scolded myself. The light turned off and I once again turned my back to him, evening out my breaths after a while so he would go to sleep, but once sleep did reach me it was a light, fitful sleep filled with half-formed nightmares and forgotten dreams

…

I woke abruptly to a light sound, and I rolled quietly off the side of my bed to land in a crouch, waiting as still as a rock for the sound to come again. It did, but it wasn't a HYDRA agent sneaking in through the door as I had feared; it was the Soldier. He was stirring slightly in his sleep, his eyes fluttering and breath quick, and I knew he was having a nightmare. I was familiar with the symptoms, as I often suffered them myself, but I didn't know what to do from here. Do I wake him or leave him be?

I perched up on my bed again, laying back down on top of the covers, and tried to coach my mind back to sleep, but the sound of the Soldier's nightmare plagued me. If there was anyone there to witness my own nightmares, would I want them to interrupt them, or leave me be?

"Soldier," I whispered, but it did nothing. I knew from experience that waking someone from a nightmare could be disastrous, but perhaps I could get his mind onto a different thought. "Soldier," I whispered again.

A few more moments passed and his breathing eventually slowed, stilling until he was as still as the assassin I was familiar with. Once he calmed down I was able to as well, and my aware mind was able to focus on what had been bothering me all night: I had messed up, and now someone else was suffering for it. And yet, when I looked over at the calm form of the Soldier I felt that guilt fade a little; I may have made a mistake, but all I could do was learn from it for the future. The Soldier didn't want me to try to heal his mind any more, but the deal we had made was that I get protection for healing him, and I was sure that he would change his mind eventually. All I had to do in the meantime was learn from my mistakes so I don't make them again.