"Alright," Allston clapped her hands then rubbed her palms together in a mock-conspiring way, "Here's the plan." Her hands ceased movement only to point at him, "You make the plan."

The Soldier's head tilted slightly to one side in obvious confusion. Here he was waiting for orders and she tells him he makes the plan? If it were battle strategy, no problem, he's lead missions before, he's done plenty of solo missions too.

Allston derailed his thoughts before his brain could start remembering all of his successful missions, she proceeded to explain, "Since you lost yourself you've been adhering to orders, being used like an object. I am giving you the opportunity to decide where we go and what we do from this very moment." Her arms spread out in a vague gesture to presumably the entirety of the… world, perhaps. "You could tell me to 'Fuck off' and I'll never bother you again," she offered and paused for a moment before continuing with a follow up offer of, "Or we could break down your programming further and get those answers you want, get your memories back, get you back." She dropped her arms down and into her lap, "It's up to you, James. What do you want?"

His entire form stood straighter when she'd used that name, an odd lightness in his gut and a tingle in his spine, "I want..." he started slowly, the words so new on his tongue, words were rare, few at a time, but these words, speaking for his own decision, it was invigorating... and sort of scary. He'd managed on his own for the two weeks after the SHIELD Hydra Civil War by instinct alone, any longer though and he wouldn't know how to continue. It was a stroke of luck that Allston approached him when she did… or perfectly planned.

Allston knew between freezings, unfreezings, and reprogramming he was given protein based meals mainly in a sort of shake form. And operations, since he was more than efficient in his work, never stretched on this long; not for weeks at a time. This was likely the longest he'd remained out of cryostasis, as far as she knew since she began working with him. Eating and sleeping patterns would have to be relearned, and those were going to be a hell of great time... that is if he accepted her help.

"I want... to know..." the Soldier haltingly answered after a few minutes of deliberation, "I want to... remember. I want to understand. I want to - to feel," he took his hands from his pockets and took the hat from his head, running his metal glinting fingers through greasy hair, "I-I want to be a person. I was a good man... I can't be him again, not after-" he swallowed hard and pressed on, "But I want to be a good man, not just an asset, not a weapon."

"Good," Allston nodded, a smirk turning up one side of her lips, "That's great, James."

He felt a swoop in his stomach at the sound of his name again, "I don't want to hurt anyone. But I still feel..." he couldn't find the word as he brought his hand away from his hand and curled his fingers, the mechanics whirred and groaned as he made a fist.

"The muscle memory of an assassin, right? Seeing things as objectives in desperate need of completion?" Allston asked.

"Yeah," he agreed, that was close enough.

She nodded and after a moment of pursing her lips in thought she pushed away from the boot of the car and assured him, "I won't let you hurt anyone."

The Soldier almost laughed but from the look on her face she was dead serious. "You think you can stop me?" He didn't mean to sound like a jerk, but in truth there were few that could stop the Soldier, and she did not fit the profile of those few.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can," she nodded, a little smile twisting her mouth, "Don't let the physical appearance fool you, I can definitely not outrun you," she laughed, and the Soldier nearly gave in to urge to join her, nearly. When her laughter ebbed she took on a serious tone again, "Which is why I've taken other precautions. So don't worry about my abilities in stopping you, I've got that covered."

There was something about her sureness that made him want to believe it, after a few moments considering it, and as unsettling as it was, he believed her. He trusted her with this, with taming him, helping him. He trusted her, just like that little voice in the back of his mind was telling him. He hoped it wasn't the wrong move. Settled with his decision he gave her an affirming nod, and she met it with a tip of her own head.

Allston reached around to the braided end of her hair and pulled the green tie from it after their silent agreement then asked, "So... Where do we go from here, Sarge?" Her fingers moved at piecing apart her hair.

And gradually, just like Allston's hair became less and less restrained so did the Soldier's ease of explanation. He doesn't want to be the Soldier anymore, he doesn't want to be the assassin, the asset, the weapon. He wants to get better, he wants to remember, he wants to be the man he was before Hydra got their hands on him. He wants to remember Steve Rogers; not as his mission, but as his friend. But just at the thought of the Captain his mind flew into a frenzy that screamed he needed to complete his mission; like Allston had said, muscle memory of the assassin desperate to complete his objective. He wanted to be able to meet Steve again, to remember him and not have an avid, implanted need to kill him.

"I..." his tongue was heavy with exhaustion from speaking so much after such a long time of short reports and silence. But what made it even harder, against the Soldier's regulation, he never needed assistance, never needed the team that Hydra would send with him on ops; he was a lone wolf, a lone, cold soldier, so it was difficult to admit, "I need your help." His head dropped forward with his admission; his lank hair covering his face in a thick, dirty curtain - he felt so weak with those words spoken aloud.

"Okay," after a brief beat of silence Allston agreed with a nod of her head, thick curls bouncing freely against her shoulders, "We can do this. We'll road trip north, I think heading overseas is the better strategy here. We can slip through the frames of surveillance all over the world until we find some place where no one will recognize us. I've got a feeling we'll have a lot of tails to shake along the way, worst of all Captain Rogers. He's just as, if not more, desperate to get you back than Hydra." She was idly tapping at her chin as she rambled, a distant look in her eyes as she gazed at nothing in particular on the parking garage ceiling. "Which reminds me," her eyes regained focus and she glanced to Bucky's left arm, "I deactivated the trackers in your arm, but it'd probably be better to just extract them completely... as well as the ones beneath the flesh," she puffed out a sigh after her long spiel, and just the thought of the excision tasks ahead. She stretched her arms over her head and her back let out a few pops before she pulled the car keys from her pocket, "I've gotta restock my doctor bag," she muttered through the start of a yawn and shuffled to the driver's side of the car. "Come on," she said as she opened her door, "Let's get to Philly then we'll get some rest before we concoct our plan to hop to Europe unseen."

The Soldier would've offer to drive, but he figured it was probably best for her to drive, he was a better lookout anyway, and she probably didn't trust him enough to let him drive her anywhere – not yet at least…

They were an hour into the drive to Philadelphia, making good time, with nothing but the sound of the wind whipping through the cracked driver's side window. Allston was tired, exhausted even. It was a miracle she was driving straight all; the Soldier figured he could offer his aid in keeping her alert by talking to her; and he needed to reacquaint himself with speaking again, so it was beneficial for both parties, really.

He cleared his throat as a precursor to speaking, "You said I could ask you anything, right?"

"Mhm," she hummed, half focused on changing lanes to get around a slow poke in the fast lane.

He couldn't help his eyes from wandering to the subject matter as he asked, "So when the metal detector wand..."

She only swerved a little when she swung her gaze onto him for a brief well-meaning glare, "I stuck two quarters in my bra and a dime in my belly button. We were lucky he didn't ask me to prove anything."

The Soldier nodded, but went on, "What about...?" tilting his chin downwards.

"The button of my jeans!" She answered with something of horror in her tone, "No way I would really do that to myself! I need that!" And the Soldier felt himself blushing along with the urge to laugh at the reference to most sensitive part of her anatomy. She touched his knee with a reassuring pat, "It's okay to smile, James." She returned her hand to the wheel, grinning towards the windshield, "And to laugh. I know I'm hilarious."

He let out a short snort of a laugh, allowed his lips to curve upward at the corners, but no more than that. He let silence follow for a few minutes before he interrupted it again, cautiously asking, "Would you… call me the other name…?"

Without missing a beat, without making it any more difficult or awkward for him she answered, "Sure thing, Bucky."