4

James Buchanan Barnes. There was some kind of significance behind those words, beneath that name. She couldn't put her fingers on it, she had to keep reminding herself that the mission was her top priority. Certainly, when she got back to the remnants of the HYDRA hideout, she'd have her memories wiped for sure. There was no point in her clinging to something she wouldn't remember later.

But there was still that horrid nagging feeling that she needed to know who James Buchanan Barnes had been.

So she walked back to the Museum, hoping to gather enough information to sooth her relentless curiosity.

"This is the second time I've seen you here." A young woman stood by the Angel, giving her a cheerful smile. The young woman was wearing a uniform, indicating she worked at the Museum and probably liked working there very much. "Is there anything I can help you with?" the woman chirped.

"I need to know who James Buchanan Barnes is." The Angel tried to put as much emotion into her voice as possible, proving to be difficult despite having to do it multiple times before on previous missions—some of them she didn't even remember.

"Ah." The woman nodded her head. "How much would you like to know?"

"How much information do you know?"

"Enough." The woman gave a wry smile. "We had to study every single person in Captain America's life so we'd know what to tell the people the moment this place opened."

"Then tell me all you know."

The woman gave a nod, leading the Angel to the section of the Museum dedicated to James Barnes. "James Buchanan Barnes was born in 1917, in New York, also having a younger sister later on named Rebecca..." The woman went on to explain all she knew about James Buchanan Barnes—his everlasting friendship with Steve Rogers, joining the Military during WWII, the Howling Commandos—but there was one thing that stood out to the Angel. How James Buchanan Barnes had a wife.

"A wife?" she interrupted.

The woman blinked. "Yes. Her name was Rosalie Joy, but she was always called 'Rosie' or 'Joy' by her friends and family." The Angel felt her heart starting to beat painfully in her chest. "According to some documents, Mrs. Barnes had volunteered as an agent of some sort for the Military, alongside Ms. Peggy Carter—it was kind of like an internship, almost. It's hard to explain, but there was something about Rosalie Joy that just captured the hearts of everyone she met."

"What happened to her?" The Angel's voice was lower.

"It's said that there was some kind of ambush on an American base overseas, while the Commandos were gone. Rosalie Joy had been taken during the fighting. No one saw her again." There was a certain sadness in the woman's voice. "There were interviews that had been taken down after her abduction, from Sergeant Barnes' family. They were heartbroken. There were even written documents—videos, too—on Sergeant Barnes' reaction to his wife's disappearance."

"Did he mourn?"

"It'd be safe to say he did." The woman and the Angel stopped in front of a picture of James Barnes. The Angel swallowed thickly. "You know, you look a lot like her."

The Angel's hardened hazel eyes snapped to the woman.

"You've got the same hair and eyes, but the way your body looks is different compared to hers, but still kinda similar in other ways."

"Did they have children?"

The woman shook her head. "The war started not even a year after their marriage."

The Angel turned to leave.

Her heart hadn't stopped beating painfully in her chest since she left the Museum. She was trying to make sense of the things that had happened—barely a couple hours into her mission, and she was learning more than she considered necessary. There was something stirring in her that she couldn't explain—it almost felt unidentifiable, but she knew it was something similar to fear or uncertainty.

She didn't like that feeling. She had been designed not to feel—years of training as an assassin made it clear she had to purge all emotions. If she were to complete a mission successfully, she didn't need any kind fear or remorse clouding what she was to do.

After walking a couple blocks, the Angel stopped. She swallowed thickly.

'You know, you look a lot like her.' If the Angel looked like James Barnes' supposedly dead wife, who's to say she was his supposedly dead wife? After Rosalie Joy's abduction, no one ever saw her again. What if...? What if? The Angel's face became stony, an inner irritation bubbling in her stomach. Stupid, meaningless fears she couldn't understand suddenly appear because of one mistake on her part. She allowed the Winter Soldier to get into her head, to somehow manipulate her thinking. She's the Angel of Death—one of HYDRA's best assassins. She couldn't afford any kind of manipulation or distractions—it wasn't even like her to get distracted, let alone manipulated over a pointless topic.

Straightening her shoulders, she continued walking.

She had to complete her mission.

He watched as she walked away. He could see the battle she was having with herself in her eyes—those Godforsaken eyes of hers. Her hair was a very big distraction for him, one he couldn't avoid looking at. She had a familiarity to her, and though his mind was still a scramble of uncertainty and confusion, there was something in the back of his mind that seemed to ease some of the confusion regarding her.

The Winter Soldier knew her.

He'd allow himself to play along with her, just to see how long it'd take for her to realize that she had been nothing more than a HYDRA puppet. The moment she realized what she had been doing, he'd allow her to settle her struggles on her own. But he'd see how far he could go with her.

Author's Note:

I am so sorry for the sloppiness of this chapter! I've been not getting a lot of sleep—I've no idea why, I just haven't. I was supposed to have the day off work today, since it's New Year's Eve, but someone called in sick at my work so I had to cover their shift and when I got off, I tried figuring out a way to finish this chapter the best I could. Hopefully you all like it.

Anywho, anything related to the Captain America storyline—whether it's the characters or mentions from the movies or comic books—that all belongs to Marvel. I own my OC's and my fillers.

Before I wrap up this author's note, happy New Year, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful 2015! Hopefully 2016 will be better.

Leave a helpful and kind review, please!

Thank you.

Susan Strong