Hello, my beloved FanFictioners! I am SO very sorry for being this late in updating the story. The end of the year has been super crazy, and I've barely had any time to write. I was finally able to finish Chapter 6, and I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

Iva stormed off down the hallway, a tight grip around the man's hand as she led him into her room, firmly closing the door behind them. Iva gave him a light push in the chest, signaling for him to take a seat on the cot.

Bucky plopped down on the cot as Iva rummaged through the drawers, looking for something to dry the soaking wet man. The smirk that had been on his face only moments ago had disappeared, him now realizing that a woman had defended him. He should have just beaten the man to a pulp himself, but that would've resulted in another mind wipe, which he tried to stay as far away from as possible.

When Iva had finally located a small towel and turned back toward the man, she immediately noticed the deep scowl on his face and the cloudy look in his eyes. Iva recognized that look since she often was drawn into her own train of thought, oblivious to all that was going on around her. Iva slowly walked over to the man, draping the towel over his head when she reached him. As she rubbed his hair gently with the towel, she felt the man tense underneath her touch, his eyes raising to give her a murderous glare. She tensed in response, realizing how stupid she was not to have considered how dangerous of a position she could've just put herself in.

"So, what's your name?" Iva asked the man as she continued to dry his hair, working her way down his head to the waves at the nape of his neck. She didn't make direct eye contact with him as she asked, afraid it might scare him away or set him off. Iva didn't know the man, so she didn't know how he would react to certain things.

The man became completely stiff, his hands balling up into fists. Iva backed away from him, realizing that she had, for some unknown reason, made him extremely upset with her question. Iva put herself up against the counter, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Looking to the door, she tried to judge if she'd be able to make it out into the hallway before he became physical.

"I don't know," the man responded, his voice gruff and low.

All thoughts of making a run for it disappeared when Iva heard him speak. He sounded so pitiful and confused, yet had such an overwhelming presence. How could she be so afraid of him, but want to embrace him at the same time? Iva barely knew the man, yet she already had conflicting emotions going on.

"You don't know? How can you not know your own name?" Iva tried to joke, but was only given a glare in response. Maybe she just needed to keep her mouth shut, but since the man had already opened his mouth, she hoped he would continue talking.

The man lowered his eyes to the floor, refusing to make eye contact with Iva. "Why should I trust you? And why are you so interested in me? I'm the one who kidnapped you. You should be afraid, very afraid."

Iva's grip on the counter tightened at his response. So, he was a dangerous man. But, was he dangerous by choice or by force? Even though he said she should be scared, she wasn't, no matter how stupid that may be. Iva released her hold on the countertop and made her way back over to the man, picking the towel back up and starting to wipe at his face and neck area. He watched her with curiosity and surprise, wondering why she hadn't made the decision to get Rumlow.

"Why should you trust me? Because I, myself, am not one to put much faith in people, and it takes me awhile to trust someone. So, I completely understand how difficult it can be to put trust in others. And, even though you may have kidnapped me, I don't believe it was by your own choice. I think they made you do it. From my first impression of you, I don't think you're the type of person to do mean things by your own accord, and I can read people well. I am so interested in you because, in a way, you are much like me," Iva responded, kneeling down in front of him to rub at his metal arm. When he didn't respond one way or another, she raised her face up to look at him. He stared at her with wide eyes, a look of complete shock on his face. Just as he was getting ready to say something, a rough knock came at the door, immediately followed by it being thrown open. Both Rumlow and Pierced took up the doorway, a fierce set to both of their faces.

"Good afternoon, Miss Presley. I see that you've been introduced to our asset here," Pierce stated, motioning towards Bucky. Rumlow took this as his cue, strutting over to Bucky and grabbing him roughly by the arm, dragging him upwards from the cot.

"Take him to the preparation room, and get him set for combat. Immediately after the training session, he will be given the new mission," Pierce murmured to Rumlow as he and Bucky walked by. Hearing this, Bucky tensed, his teeth grinding together in response. After they had left, Pierce turned his attention to Iva and closed the door.

"I know we didn't explain this to you earlier, so you'll only be given a warning this time around. The asset shall not be in close proximity to you without security nearby. He's a dangerous man, and I wouldn't want you to go getting hurt. I would recommend you stay far away from him. However, he has been trained for combat, so he will be your sparring partner for the session later on today. Rumlow, myself, and a few others will be watching over the training, so you have nothing to worry about. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. I apologize," Iva stated, looking towards the floor as she did so.

"Good. We will come get you once we're ready for you. Until then, I would like for you to stay in this room. I will have one of the guards bring you lunch," Pierce responded as he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Iva sat on the cot where the metal-armed man had just been, sighing. There was something funny about Pierce, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what. Until she figured out who he truly was, Iva would not trust him. Picking up the damp towel to the right of her, she wrung it in her hands, remembering the man's soft brown curls and the fearsome, yet innocent look in his eyes. She could not get his image out of her head. Figuring she had no time to lose, Iva lay back on the cot, falling asleep with the towel wrapped up tightly in her arms.