CHAPTER EIGHT – Salt in Our Wounds

The cold knot of knowing clenched tight as I sat gingerly perched on the edge of a wooden chair. My hands grasped my knees, nails digging into the stiff fabric of a new jumpsuit in the unattractive shade of khaki green. Doctors and nurses floated from this concrete room, taking blood – running their tests much like Zola had for as long as I could remember. Their reassuring words didn't reach their eyes, where I saw the fear, shock and wonder about who I was. They appeared to know me as Genevieve Renard, a nurse trained to become a spy, only to wind up captured and held prisoner by HYDRA.

I'd traveled with Bucky, Steve, and the other American soldiers from the HYDRA base to England. Silence overcame me, body stiffly positioned despite the men's kind words and various attempts to make conversation. Bucky searched for a way to always be near me, eyes so blue, intense with emotions I couldn't unravel. Something deep inside me told me I could trust him, but the longer these doctors ran their tests I figured my judgement must've been impaired. I was still a prisoner.

"How are you feeling today, Genevieve?"

I reached for the lone cup of water on the table as a well-mannered woman entered. The British agent called Peggy Carter, explained to me the day before we were friends before my capture. Like Bucky, and Steve, there was something drawing me to trust her, a certain warmth softening me.

The beautiful brunette crossed the room, lowering herself into the chair opposite mine. Her immaculate features had me awkwardly tucking stray bits of hair behind an ear.

"I have a few questions to ask you, and then you'll be taken to your own room upstairs. I'm sure you will appreciate sleeping in a comfortable bed after your long journey." She opened a folder and proceed to set a series of photographs across the table. "I would like you to look at these photographs, all of which were taken across Germany the past few months."

I complied with her request, surprised to discover myself in every single photograph. In each I could've passed for a movie star leaving a less than desirable motel. "What is this?"

"At every location, a high-ranking government official who spoke out against HYDRA was found murdered. Before their deaths, they were seen leaving a local bar or restaurant with you."

My tongue slid over my parched lips. "I-I don't remember any of this."

Flinching as the door abruptly opened, Bucky, dressed in full military uniform entered. Dark shadows gave away his restless sleep, and somehow, I intuitively knew he was here to make sure Peggy's questioning didn't get out of hand. The two proved my train of thought by exchanging a look, but not a word was spoken as he casually leaned against the concrete wall.

"Genevieve, why don't you tell me what you do remember?"

"I…" I awkwardly trailed off, chipping more polish off my nails with my fidgeting. "Before the Americans entered the base, I was in the medical room with Doctor Zola."

"All right, do you know why you were there?"

"I was taken there for a treatment. But I didn't want it this time…Boris tried to force me, h –"

"Who's Boris?" Bucky questioned snappishly, receiving a sharp look from Peggy.

"He was my instructor and took pleasure in taunting me."

"Why didn't you want your treatment?" Peggy pressed.

"I don't know, but I fought with Boris." I looked at Bucky. "The blood you saw in the room was where Boris laid after I caved in his skull."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Shame burned my cheeks to speak proudly of the moment, but I'd only done what my training required.

I turned back to Peggy and gently pushed the photographs of me and various dead men away. "May I leave now? I've done everything asked of me. I would like to rest now."

"In a moment." Peggy gathered the photographs back into the folder, rising from the chair to speak privately with Bucky. Despite lowering their voices to a whisper, I could hear their conversation as clearly as I would right beside them.

"You're not gonna lock her up, are you?"

"She is a potential threat, whether she knows it or not. She just admitting to killing a man without a shred of remorse."

"A man who provoked her! She's no threat, Carter! She's a girl who got caught up in someone else's fight, your fight! She wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!" His anger bubbled over, revealing a fact no one had told me about – they'd all skirted around how I ended up captured, never explaining how a nurse could end up in HYDRA's clutches.

"I feel guilty enough, Sergeant Barnes. But she needs to be monitored, the doctors believe she may have been subjected to electroconvulsive therapy."

"Yeah, we figured. Dugan found her strapped to a chair next to a unit. Those bastards were torturing her, th –"

"They turned her into their own version of Steve, to be used for assassinations, and –"

"-Used her to seduce men," he muttered darkly. "Yeah, I read the reports."

Peggy appeared to ignore his comment, opening another file, and motioning to its contents. "For her safety and everyone else's, she'll be confined to the building. Now, there have been noted cases where prolonged treatment can cause amnesia. She doesn't remember her time in Germany or what exactly happened with HYDRA until you found her. But when you and Steve pressed on past events, she appears to find something vaguely familiar yet is unable to work out why."

"So, her memories might come back?"

"She's unable to tell us how often these treatments occurred, so we may be unable to determine how severe her memory loss is. Perhaps in her case, some of those memories she'll wish not to remember." The two of them glanced at me. "Only time will tell."

"Let me take her to her room?"

Peggy nodded, opening the door, and departing. With the door left open, Bucky flashed me a small smile.

"You ready to get outta here?"

"Yes." I rose from the chair, walking over to follow him from the room. "What becomes of me now?" I questioned quietly.

"Dunno, they might send you home, depends if your memory comes back or not."

"I don't think they will send a HYDRA agent to America; the risk is too great. I do more damage than good –"

Bucky abruptly stopped walking, grabbing my arms so I was forced to look at him. "Look, none of that is your fault. It wasn't you!"

"It was me," I admitted knowing he attempting to convince himself more than me that I wasn't a cold-blooded killer. "They have evidence against me, and I did kill Boris. I wanted to kill him, I enjoyed beating him to death."

Bucky's grasp of my arms instantly released like a shock of electricity parted us. He stepped away, shaking his head, struggling to come to terms with who I was.

"This ain't easy for me, Gin," he sighed roughly, finally looking me in the eye. "To see you like this, to know you don't remember me…" his lips curved into a smile, yet his body language and tone didn't reflect anything remotely happy. "We only had each other for a brief time, but I knew the day I met you, you were something special, like no other girl I'd known before."

"I'm not that girl."

"You are," he protested. "My Gin is in there somewhere, she's stubborn as hell and she'll fight to come back to me."

He sounded confident, but as we continued walking, I began to wonder if Peggy was right, if my memories did come back, would I want to remember them?

-x-

Thunder boomed, and the sky grew dark over a city showing obvious signs of weariness in battle. In my self-imposed exile, the odd soldier would march pass my room, glancing in if the door was open to catch a glimpse of the woman whose past was drenched in blood and death. With the first splatters of rain against the window, a sharp knock at the door made me jump to attention, eyebrows rising suspiciously when the door opened to reveal Bucky.

He ran a confident hand back through his hair, a warm smile curving his lips. "You don't have to stand to attention every time someone enters the room."

"It's a sign of respect." I stared straight ahead at the dull painted wall.

"Well, relax, Gin, you put the rest of us to shame."

Whenever Bucky spoke carefree around me, a small shiver ran down my spine, creating an uncomfortable sensation I couldn't name. I didn't like how my body reacted in general, as if the smallest twitch gave the American some insight into my thinking.

"I have something for you."

My staring contest with the wall broke when he held out some sort of a tin box. "I require nothing from you, Sergeant Barnes."

"It's not mine, it's yours. I figured it might help your memories."

I didn't move. "The doctors are unsure if I will remember anything of my past, proven when Agent Carter informed me that Louie Renard was killed in action. I don't know him –"

"He's your brother," Bucky interrupted, a painful edge to his tone. "And you can lie to yourself all you want. I've seen how you look at Carter, at me. You know us, you're just missing a few pieces."

My throat shuddered with an uncomfortable swallow. "Your confidence holds no sense of reality for me."

He opened the box, removing a worn envelope. He left the tin on the neatly made bed, proceeding to unfold a piece of paper as creased as its envelope. "You wrote me this before you were captured. Told me how you left home 'cause your old man wanted to marry you off, and that your dreams were to see the world. You said you felt like a coward for running away and been trying to make up for it ever since."

A flush of heat burst in my cheeks to hear his words soaked in an honesty I couldn't deny.

"You said you tried to fight what you felt for me, thinking I'd just distract you, but you realized you loved me, the same night I did."

Another bang of thunder jolted my entire body. "What night?" I whispered.

He moved towards me tucking the letter into his shirt pocket. "You thought I was sweet on another nurse. I already liked you, but when I saw how upset you were, I never wanted to make you feel like that ever again. I just wanted to make you happy."

He raised a hand to my face, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed away the tear rolling down my cheek.

"What's happening?" The shock sent me stumbling back, hands pawing at my damp face.

"That big, beautiful brain of yours is remembering." He flashed me a small smile. "It's okay –"

"No!" desperate tears spilled down my cheeks, my demeanor keeping an obvious gap between me and Bucky. "Leave! GET OUT!"

My scream brought a couple of soldiers running, weapons raised into the room. Bucky waved them off, backing them up until he could peacefully close the door.

With a heavy heart, I buried my face in my hands, sobbing freely.

-x-

The tin box did nothing for my fragile state of mind. Photographs and letters told of a life I found myself longing to remember. Postcards showed places I'd been, dried flowers were mementos of lost love and Bucky's smiling face was the biggest torment of them all.

When it felt like night and slumber had consumed the building, I quietly rose from my bed, stepping out into the vacant corridor. In the morning I would face my biggest test to date: I would put my skills to test against Captain America himself. the thought of it tore at my insides, assuming he'd been charged with putting me to death for my crimes. I knew in my heart I was a risk to everyone around me. There was no other way for this to end.

Carefully descending a flight of stairs, I counted my steps to where the Howling Commandos slept, having flirted with a soldier to gain access to a map of the building. I'd done so to discover possible escape routes, but now as I passed a certain passage to freedom, I kept walking until I stopped in front of Bucky's assigned room. Deciding not to knock, I quietly entered the room, pitch black due to the black out curtains. I pulled a box of matches I'd stolen from the soldier, striking a match alight.

The sound woke Bucky, jolting upright with a gun in hand. "Gin?"

"You sleep with a gun?"

He sighed, setting it down on his bedside table. "Bad habit," he muttered turning on a lamp and saving my burning fingers. He vainly attempted to flatten his bed hair. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" I trailed off awkwardly.

"Must have a reason." He patted a spot on the bed and I cautiously sat down.

"I have a question, and I need an honest answer."

"I'll do my best."

"Is Steve Rogers going to kill me tomorrow?"

"What?"

I frowned at his surprise. "Isn't that why I have to fight him? They can say it was an accident during a training exercise, rather than an execution."

"No one's gonna kill you, Gin. It's just a stupid test to see if you're like Steve." He reached for my hand. "Has someone said something to you?"

I curtly shock my head.

"Hey," he spoke calmly, giving my hand a squeeze. "Look at me." I fought a weary sigh, meeting his gaze tender in the warm light. "I promise no one's gonna hurt you, they gotta go through me first."

"That's not really much of a fight."

Bucky laughed, his entire face lighting up in delight. "You're killing me, sweetheart, you really are."

I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face, somewhat content knowing I would survive tomorrow. "I should go." I started rising, only to have Bucky cling to my hand.

"No, stay a bit." His thumb caressed my wrist, lips twitching when we both felt my pulse jump with the intimate touch.

The dizzying effect of his touch made me brash. I leaned in to steal a kiss, meaning to pull away quickly when Bucky's hands cupped my face, keeping me close. He kissed slowly, with an intensity that was almost dreamlike, hands tangling in my loose waves and leaving me breathless when he eventually pulled away.

"You can keep that for luck tomorrow."

I curtly nodded, hastily rising from the bed and making my escape before I lost myself completely to the charming Bucky Barnes.

-x-

I ignored the rough pounding of my heart echoed in my ear, twirling the baton expertly whilst shifting into a battle stance. This might have been a practice, but I would flourish in my natural element. Fighting hand-to-hand or with weapons, it didn't matter, I knew the steps like a well-rehearsed dance. Every step would show grace. Every blow would show the strength of the serum. And the sideway glances from onlookers wouldn't penetrate my concentration. Not even from Bucky, who stood with the other Howling Commandos, arms folded across his chest, stern frown set in place. He'd openly expressed that neither me or Steve had anything to prove. Yet our commanding officers yearned to see how much Zola's serum reflected Erskine's – the only way to discover that, was to pit me and Steve against each other.

Steve on the other hand appeared less confident, worried about fighting a woman. "Are you ready, Gin?"

"Are you?"

He hesitated to make the first move, so I charged. His baton rose seconds before mine collided with his head. He deflected, shoving me backwards so hard I almost tripped over my own feet – graceful went quickly out the window. With mounting rage, I turned on him. Steve matched me blow for blow, the redness in his cheeks mirrored the own burning I felt in my cheeks. I dodged a blow to the arm from his baton, and jerked my knee up in a sharp thrust, catching him in the gut. He grunted, automatically throwing a punch. Ripples of pain exploded across my face, the metallic taste of blood covering my tongue as it licked at the lip wound he'd created. The last time someone wounded me they ended up dead.

"Steve!" Bucky's yell from the sidelines distracted Steve.

I made my move, landing a lucky blow that dazed Steve. A hard kick to the chest sent him stumbling back into the wall, and my baton crammed against his windpipe kept him in place. "Yield," I puffed.

"Not today!"

He replied with a short punch to the kidney, hooked his leg around mine and slammed me to the ground. The knock to the back of my head sent a jolt of pain through me, but I broke his grasp, jumping to my feet. His raised fists lowered slightly when I stumbled, gracefully dodging a punch. His hand grabbed the back of my neck, his strength hurdling my body forward towards the brick wall.

"Oh God!"

The smashing fall left me blinded by my own blood.

"Gin!"

I staggered back from the blow, winching as my fingers dipped into my damp hairline. My blurred vision gradually came into focus, when the throbbing headache kicked into awful clarity. Oddly weakened by the blow, my knees gave out beneath me. A warm embrace caught me seconds before I hit the floor, my gaze lazily lifting to Steve staring down at me. Swarms of thoughts and feelings drifted through the pain until it sent me into a merciful blackout.