Chapter Twenty-Three
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Thirty minutes later, I was on the stoop of a neat modern home. At 8pm, it was dark except for a few windows further back — heart pounding, I pressed the doorbell and waited.

My mind was still spinning from the revelation in Diane's notes. The desire to pace returned as I stood restlessly under that doorway. Could James "Bucky" Barnes, now some machine, really be my father?

It couldn't be true. I didn't want it to be true. Suddenly, inexplicably, I wanted my old life back, the version where I pretended Steve was my dad, as weird and occasionally uncomfortable as it was. At least I didn't feel horrified by it.

Something hit me, then. Something Peggy had said when I visited. That I looked like someone she knew. She never did recall, but could she have been talking about Barnes?

It was possible — they had to have known each other, right? She was a big ally to the Howling Commandos.

Unfortunately, I couldn't ask. Not now, not unless I wanted to SHIELD to rain down it's entire force on an old woman's house.

I didn't really expect an answer to the ring, and I waited for an entire minute before doubt overwhelmed me. With a turn of the heel, I changed my mind. Stupid, this is stupid, he can't help you, I need to go someplace else…

"Amelia?" Just as I turned my back, the door opened. Alexander Pierce stood just inside, wearing a robe and pajamas. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, and glasses perched on his nose. He looked like a grandpa that had just been disturbed from his nightly viewing of Jeopardy.

"I, er, I got your message." I felt a wave of embarrassment, but it was brief. "Did you mean it? You won't sell me out?"

"Of course not," Pierce replied, sounding just a little miffed that I'd question it. When I stepped back under the light from the hallway, Pierce's eyes widened, and he did a double-take. "My God, you look like you've been through the wringer. Please, come in, come in…"

With somewhat frantic motions, he stepped aside and gestured for me to come indoors. I considered the open doorway for a long moment, chewing my lip. Something in my head was telling me this felt too easy, in a way. Help never came so readily for me. No solution was ever delivered to me so neatly on a silver platter.

But I was hungry, aching, exhausted. I could only imagine how I looked, what would've caused Pierce to react to my appearance that way. In many ways, this day had broken; not physically, but in every other way. First, the revelation about Dmitri and the Chairman; then the fact that Steve is apparently gone, either dead or missing in action. And finally, possibly the worst of all depending on its veracity, was the idea that the Winter Soldier might be my father.

Just one of these was bad enough, but all three? I felt disoriented, frayed at the edges, pulled in every direction. I didn't know which problem to solve first, which one I could handle in the midst of being constantly hunted down by SHIELD.

At the very least, Pierce would've been a pragmatic solution. No one in SHIELD would suspect to find me here of all places. Right under their noses.

And Pierce had been kind to me. Mysterious and vague, sure, but kind.

In the end, I was too run down to find another solution. I couldn't keep running the whole night, trying to find another safe house only to be chased out a few hours later. Right now, I needed food, rest, and just… time to think. To reorganize, reprioritize. Figure my way out of this.

So I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

"I know you must have a lot of questions, I can only imagine what you're feeling right now. But I promise, we're completely safe. This house has state of the art security..." Pierce led the way to his kitchen, through a hallway with windows on either side, giving a nearly three-sixty view of the lush landscaping and the river beyond. In fact, there were huge windows in every room we went through, the furniture minimalist and vaguely retro. It was beautiful and luxurious, but all I saw was a killbox with no way out.

It seemed Pierce lived here alone — all the coats and shoes by the door were men's, one size. Photos hanging on the wall indicated family, but there was a decidedly empty feeling about the place. It reminded me vaguely of Diane, but this felt different. There was a character to it, while Pierce's home was carefully organized, orderly, not a single piece out of place. Or maybe I just felt weird about stepping into someone's home. It was always a personal, private place, and often said more about a person than they could for themselves.

As we passed by a framed Rothko painting, Pierce paused only a moment to glance at it. At first, I thought he was studying the artistry — only for him to reach out and tap the side, realigning the frame so it was perfectly straight. Pierce stepped back to analyze it again, before nodding to himself in satisfaction.

When he noticed me staring, Pierce seemed to remember himself, and offered a chagrined smile. "Ah, sorry. I run a tight ship, as you can see."

I smiled back, but it was awkward and half-hearted. "Oh. Uh. No worries."

Pierce chuckled, shaking his head to himself, and continued as if nothing

happened. "And this is why I live alone…"

This weird chitchat did not put me at ease in any way. I knew Pierce was trying his best, but honestly I wanted to cut right to the chase. As we entered the kitchen, Pierce moved at an easy, gliding pace, clearly comfortable with the area; I, on the other hand, stayed a few paces behind him, halting every couple seconds to scan a dark corner or out a window. So many damn windows…

"Oh, did you want something, by the way?" Pierce's question broke my line of thought. I looked over to where he stood, by the open fridge, under the kitchen lights he just turned on. He had to squint slightly under the brightness. "Water, milk? I'm sure you must be starving. I've got a, er, leftover meatloaf, if you want it."

"I want to know why SHIELD is hunting Steve," I said before I could reconsider; my words came out sharp, so abrupt I startled myself. The anger came roiling out too fast to stop — I was on a roll. "I want to know why SHIELD took over Diane's murder case, why they wanted his son for questioning, why this fucking STRIKE team decided to use live ammunition on me when I didn't even do anything!"

By the end, I was shaking, breath heaving, lung shuddering with bottled up emotion. My fists were clenched so tight that when I finally forced them open, I saw I had cut myself with my own nails. Looking back up at Pierce, I saw his stunned expression, and my face flushed in shame. Way to keep it together, Amelia.

"Meatloaf's fine," I said in a small voice.

"Mr. Pierce, is everything alright? I thought I heard yelling — oh!" a woman appeared in the kitchen, following a rush of footsteps. Dressed modestly in a skirt and apron, she blinked at me in confusion, then turned to Pierce. "I didn't know you were having guests."

Her appearance startled me, and I was immediately on my guard. Posture tensed, feet wide, center of balance low, ready for a fight. But her appearance was unassuming and I felt a twinge of doubt, wondering if I was just being paranoid. The woman was middle-aged, dark hair graying at the temples, with what sounded like a Slavic accent. She moved primly but I could see the laxness of her shoulders, the weight of her body; no SHIELD agent, not an agent at all. Just a regular woman. A housemaid. Still, I didn't know someone else was here. I had assumed we'd be completely alone.

Pierce, glancing between the two of us, seemed to sense the problem and quickly intervened.

"Ah, my apologies, Renata. It was a… last minute call." Pierce smiled, but it wasn't as easy as the last time. He gestured to me and said, "Renata, this is Amelia, the daughter of a friend. Amelia, this is Renata. She's my woman of the hour, always keeping this place top notch…"

"Ah, you're too kind, Mr. Pierce, too kind," Renata grinned, apple cheeks beaming at the flattery as she flapped her hands, as if to wave away the complement. And just like that, the tension released. "Is there anything I can help with, then?"

"Actually, I think Amelia here would really appreciate something to eat." Pierce said in an upbeat way, but his expression seemed melancholy, sympathetic as he shot me a look. "It's been a long day for us both."

Renata asked no more questions; either she wasn't very curious or she was paid not to be. Either way, the kindly smile she threw my way was genuine, as was the offer to take my coat. I could only shake my head no, feeling bad for having reacted the way I did.

Pierce ushered me into the nearby dining room, to speak privately while Renate began working away in the kitchen. The sound of running water, clattering pots, hissing steam, and the thok-thok of a knife on a cutting board were surprisingly comforting. It reminded me of home, of Aunt May cooking in the kitchen while I did homework at the table.

What a long ways away that felt now.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Pierce offered me to sit at the head of the table — black mahogany, thick and study, could sit at least ten people. The surface was utterly smooth, unscratched. I wondered if Pierce actually entertained anyone here.

After a second's hesitation, I relented, shrugging off my shield, my backpack, my coat. Dropped it all at the foot of the table with a big sigh, and sat myself down. It wasn't until the weight was off my legs did I suddenly feel how tired I was, how my body sloped forward without the shield pulling it back. I might've actually blacked out for a moment, until the smell of meatloaf brought me back. Pierce, having just placed the recently-microwaved meal in front of me. He sat down in the chair to my right and gave a silent nod as an indication for me to eat.

I didn't need to be asked twice. As soon as I got over my self-consciousness, I picked up the fork and started to eat.

As I began my devouring of the meatloaf, Pierce started to speak. "Amelia, I want you to know that I am going to give you full disclosure, for anything you ask tonight. To the best of my ability, at least. Anything and everything we talk about tonight will be completely off the books. Not a word of it will leave this house." Pierce inhaled. "All I ask is that you give me the same honesty in return. I know trust is a very difficult thing for you right now, but I can't tell you all that I know if I don't know all that you know. Do you understand, Amelia?"

I nodded quickly and almost choked on a piece of meatloaf in my enthusiasm. Was I going to be completely honest? Absolutely not. But I was going to tell as much of the truth as I was comfortable with, in order to get what I needed.

"So you wanted to know why SHIELD considers Captain Rogers a threat," Pierce sighed, taking a second to think about that answer. Fingers lacing together across the table, his gaze wandered the room, taking in the black glass and the night beyond. "We believe that Rogers may be hiding something in regards to the assassination of Director Fury. When questioned, we found his story didn't add up, and when he realized we suspected him, he decided to run. Now I don't know about you, Amelia, but when a man decides to run from authority, it makes him look guilty. Like he has something to hide. Maybe there's been a severe misunderstanding, but for right now, Steve Rogers has successfully evaded capture, and seems to be operating on his own agenda."

I paused eating to take this all in. Steve had never said what had led to him jumping out of a building, but I assumed it might've been a fight. Something that convinced him SHIELD wasn't trustworthy.

And Pierce was using diplomatic language to hide the vagueness of SHIELD's side of the story. I wasn't convinced. Keeping a straight face, I said, "So, what was it about his story that didn't add up?"

"We had evidence to believe that Fury hired a mercenary in order to attack a SHIELD vessel, the Lemurian Star — the same mission in with Captain Rogers was tasked with saving the hostages. What we didn't know at the time was that there was another objective: to steal valuable, encrypted information that was also onboard the Star. We believe Fury was trying to sell this information, and this sale went sour, leading to his death."

"But what does this have to do with Steve?"

"Because I don't think it was an accident that Fury chose Roger's apartment that night he died. I think Rogers' knows its significance, too. Perhaps he wasn't directly involved in the secret sale, but his presence alone on that vessel calls his entire reputation into question. Fury valued Rogers as his one of his best assets. His second best asset was Black Widow. Rogers' partner, and the woman responsible for stealing that information. She and Rogers are now on the run together. Does that seem like a coincidence to you?"

I blinked, startled. Steve and Natasha were on the run together? I didn't realize she was involved, too. I struggled to come up with some other excuse, another possibility, but couldn't find any. I didn't know anything about the Black Widow, and hadn't had enough communication with Steve to say anything in his defense.

"That does sound pretty bad," I admitted reluctantly, looking down at my plate of half-eaten meatloaf. Three slices, almost finished and I was still hungry. For the moment, my appetite abated. I didn't want to consider that Steve would really be part of something like that.

"Now I can't say what the truth is, because I don't know, either," Pierce said, raising his hands as an indication of fallibility. "What I do know is that when I tried to talk to you again, about all of this, you decided to follow Rogers' example and escape as well. Now I know you had nothing to do with the Lemurian Star, Amelia, I have no doubt of your innocence in all of this. But I want to know why you ran. Did Rogers tell you?"

"More or less," I said with a shrug. "He told me not to trust SHIELD. So I got out as fast as I could."

"A creative interpretation of orders," Pierce said, raising his eyebrows, smirking slightly at his own joke. "Well, I can't say you didn't perform them outstandingly."

"Having a loaded gun pulled on me with no warning tends to be a pretty good motivation." I said just as quickly. Me, still salty? More likely than you think.

"Ah, right," Pierce hung his head, and I felt vindication at the self-reproach. "That's my fault entirely. I had informed the man intended to escort you to be careful, because I was aware of your… alleged talents, as Agent 13 described them. I meant it as a warning for him to not come off as a threat, not to see you as one. The quarantine also didn't help matters, I imagine. I truly am sorry, Amelia, I should have chosen a better man for the task. Someone with a more level head."

"And the STRIKE team?" I demanded, still keenly aware of the sensation of getting electrocuted a half dozen times. "No offense, but Rumlow needs a psych check."

Incredibly, Pierce seemed more aggrieved by his information than surprised. "Yes, I've gotten… complaints about his behavior before. Rumlow leads his team with an iron fist, and he's very passionate about protecting SHIELD's ideals. I wish I could say I had control over the man but I think the betrayal of Captain Rogers has affected him deeply. They were friends, if I recall."

That was hard to believe. I couldn't imagine Steve ever being fooled into friendship with a man like that. Steve may be new to the 21st century but he wasn't born yesterday. People like Rumlow always existed, and I had to believe that Steve could see his type from a mile away.

"But you don't have to fear him anymore, I promise," Pierce added quickly, perhaps guessing that I wasn't convinced. "He's been reassigned, focused solely on capturing Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov, and no one else. A fact I'm sure he'd thankful of, considering the thrashing you've given him and his team."

More flattery, trying to get on my good side, but this time it worked. I couldn't help but smile a little, still proud of my escape in our last encounter. "Good."

"I assume you're also responsible for removing Dmitri Kasyanenko from our custody?"

"Yes," I said, pretty sure they knew that already, so felt no need to deny it.

"You know you seriously injured several of my men."

"Yes," I said again, unashamed. "They hurt my friend. He wasn't under arrest and they were taking him against his will, without a lawyer or anything. I had to do something."

"And where is your friend now?" Pierce asked, and looked about the room in a show of curiosity. "I see he's not with you now, and I doubt you'd leave him alone unprotected, given all you did to save his life. Not that it was in any danger to begin with, of course."

"I got him out," I said. My turn to be vague. Pierce could be as honest as he liked but I wasn't going to betray Dmitri for anything. Not even when his father was the Chairman (another fact I decided to keep to myself).

"Out of where?"

"The country." I didn't know that for sure, but it was probably true. I doubted the Chairman would want to stay in America for very long.

"Ah. Well, that explains how he completely vanished from our radar," Pierce didn't look pleased by this, but I couldn't say I felt the same. "How did you get him out?"

"We contacted his father," I replied, choosing my words carefully. "He apparently has a lot of connections, and got Dmitri out last night. Maybe they went home, I don't know."

"Home as in… Russia?"

I shrugged again, cagey but trying to act casual. "Maybe. They never told me. I didn't ask."

"Hmm. Probably for the best, then," Pierce nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. A finger tapped the hardwood surface. He glanced at me again, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure you didn't overhear anything? Dmitri didn't say where they might've gone?"

"No."

"And Dmitri's father, was he there?"

"Yes."

"And was this the first time you'd ever met."

My heart skipped a beat. "No."

"You're sure? You'd never seen Dmitri's father before last night?"

This time, I didn't break eye contact. "I'm sure."

I wasn't sure what he was looking for. My heartbeat was starting to pick up and I was doing everything in my power to continue acting normally. Did Pierce know something? Did he know something was up with Dmitri's dad? Did he have an idea that it might be the Chairman of the KGB? Or was he just looking for more information, a way to trace Dmitri's whereabouts?

Pierce opened his mouth again to speak, but was interrupted when Renata appeared, a plate of steaming pasta in one hand. She came in all smiles, and received them in return — not at all like we were discussing topics of national and personal security, the fate of people we cared about.

As she set the pasta before me, Renata saw the empty plate of now-finished meatloaf and clicked her tongue. "Oh, Mr. Pierce, you've ruined her appetite!"

"No, no, its fine," I said, pulling the plate of pasta towards me. For a moment, Pierce looked surprised, almost a little miffed, and I decided to go to bat. I gave Renata a grateful smile and picked up my fork again. "I'm still hungry. Really need the calories. I'm an… athlete."

It sounded so dumb as soon as I said it, but Renata seemed pleased. She clasped her hands together and said, "Oh, well then, I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you two need anything else."

"It's alright, Renata, you can go home," Pierce said with a wave of his hand, smiling in thanks. "You've done more than enough. I've got it covered."

"Ah, well, if you say so…!"

As soon as Renata had disappeared, the air of tension returned. Half-time had ended. Back to the game.

I decided to take the lead this time, before Pierce could ask me about Dmitri again. "So why is SHIELD interested in Diana Hawkins' murder?"

"I believe you already asked me this question, Amelia."

"And I'm asking you again."

Pierce eyed me for a long moment, perhaps weighing his options. Or maybe reconsidering this proposition entirely. Of course, I already knew. I just wanted to see what Alexander Pierce knew, or what he was willing to tell me under this guise of full disclosure. I waited expectantly, taking a bite of ravioli (I wasn't lying when I said I was still hungry. My last full meal was nearly two nights ago).

"The last time we spoke, I told you I suspected it was more than a coincidence that Fury and Ms. Hawkins were attacked at the same time, on the same day." Pierce began. "I will admit, I was not completely honest. SHIELD was already aware that Ms. Hawkins was working on a big story, something that could call into question the state of our national security. So we'd been keeping tabs on her, trying to get a better idea of what she was working on. Diana Hawkins, may she rest in peace, was one hell of a paranoid woman and we could not find a damn thing. So, when she was killed, I had reason to believe it was for the story she was covering."

"You made it sound like she and Fury were connected." I replied, remembering how it felt the first time. Knowing what SHIELD suspected of Fury now, I wondered if SHIELD suspected Diana had any knowledge of Fury's underhanded dealings. Now I knew, with some certainty, she didn't — at least not with this Lemurian Star. "Now you know they aren't?"

"To some degree," Pierce said. "She may have treaded into the same waters as Fury, but I don't have evidence to say that she had any idea of what he was doing, or that it was him specifically doing it. I do believe, however, that it still had much to do with America's interests. Fury was keeping tabs on her, too. And Fury never does anything without a reason."

All of that just told me what I already figured; Diana was killed for what she knew. No surprise there. I thought over my next question carefully; there was so much in Diana's notes that I wanted more information on, but the questions were near endless. What was the most important?

Then I remembered. The last page of her notes.

"What's Project Insight?" I asked.

Whatever it was Pierce expected me to ask, that definitely wasn't it, because his face went two shades paler. His hand slipped from under his chin and he had to catch himself against the table. Still, aside from the slight widening of the eyes, Pierce recomposed himself quickly — this was as surprised as he ever got.

"Now that's an interesting question." He finally said, smiling slightly.

"So it's real?" I leaned forward. "...Whatever it is?"

"How did you hear about it?" Pierce asked in turn, without answering.

I pulled back, realizing I might have shown my hand. "It's what Diana was looking into. I saw her notes."

Better than saying I have her notes, at least. But I had to convince Pierce that I knew it was real, it was valid information, so he couldn't blow it off. Judging by his reaction, this was a lot bigger than I realized.

"You saw her notes?" Surprised again. "SHIELD believed they were destroyed, or hidden. So you found them?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't turn them in?"

"It was right when SHIELD had taken over the FBI's case." I replied, trying to phrase it as best as I could without coming off like a fool. "It seemed weird to me, and I didn't like SHIELD to begin with. When Fury died, I hid them, so I could come back and read them later. By the time I did, Steve had told me not to trust SHIELD, and I'd already been chased by STRIKE. So yeah. I didn't turn it in."

"You hid it in Steve's building." Pierce guessed, raising his chin as he came upon a new understanding. "So that explains why it took you so long to help Agent Thirteen. And why you returned to the location. Had you planted the vibranium shield there as well?"

"No. A, um, a friend did that for me." I said, making a face. That had been pure luck, but I didn't want to say it. Honestly, the only reason I was alive was less through skill and more through good fortune — what little of it I had. But it was always just enough. "Anyways, I read the notes. She was looking into a French diplomat's assassination — Plamondon. Then an ex-KGB agent, who'd been her source, was killed, and she basically stumbled upon this giant conspiracy. Dozens of assassinations, across decades. All done by one man, a soviet agent. The Winter Soldier. He killed Plamondon. In her notes, she said you knew him."

"I did," Pierce went very still for a moment, his expression turning first melancholy, then grave. "He was a good friend of mine. These are very serious accusations you're making, Amelia. SHIELD has suspected an agent known as the Winter Soldier to be responsible for his murder, but we never had substantial evidence that he even existed."

"He exists," I said. "He still does. Diana had evidence of it, and plenty more. She figured out that he must be a kind of super soldier, able to live longer somehow, and that he's the only one. More were made, but they failed. She had old documents from the 40s and 50's, from when he was first brought into the fold. How he has a metal arm. How it was made by a scientist brought over by Operation Paperclip. She has it, it's all there, I swear it."

As I explained, my entire energy shifted, from guarded to persistent, desperate, entirely passionate in what I knew to be true. Finally, I was telling the head of SHIELD, the man in charge of everything, that the Winter Soldier was real, that he was a threat and they had to take it seriously.

But Pierce didn't look convinced. His brow furrowed deeply, and he pinched his nose beneath his glasses, shaking his head. "This is all… very interesting stuff, but I don't see how —"

"When you said you believed Diana and Fury to be connected, I knew you were right," I interrupted, trying to keep my breathing even, as my words came out rushed and frantic. "Because the Winter Soldier killed Nick Fury."

"What?" Pierce jolted slightly, staring at me. "How do you —"

"Because I saw him, I recognized him," I continued. Maybe I should've felt bad interrupting him, but it was such a relief to get this off my chest. To finally tell someone, someone who had power, who could do something. "I met the Winter Soldier before. The attack on Tower Bridge last year? That was him, too. I was there, I tried to stop him. SHIELD picked me up after, but when I told them, they didn't believe me. But he killed Plamondon, he killed Diana's source, he killed Fury. He probably killed Diana, too. He works for the KGB, who still exist, who can still do all this without getting caught because no one thinks they're still active anymore. Whatever's going on, the KGB is involved, and it might have something to do with this Project Insight. It was the last thing Diana had in her notes before she was killed. Please, Mr. Pierce, you have to believe me."

"I-I do, I believe you, I just — I'm sorry, it's a lot to take in," Alexander Pierce, looking shaken, took off his glasses with trembling fingers. He ran a hand over his face, and for the first time, it hit me that he was old. The lines in his face had become canyons of age and experience, pain and loss. He'd only had this job for a few days. And now it was being turned on its head yet again. "S-so you're telling me that the ones who killed Fury — who he might've also been selling information to — is the Russian KGB, defunct for over two decades?"

"They're still operating, just not in Russia, I don't think," I said. "They've spread out, relocated. Further into Europe. Sokovia. Places where no one expects to find them."

"I see." Pierce was quiet for a long moment, rubbing his chin in careful contemplation. His gaze was far away, fixed on the floor but not really seeing it. Then, finally, "Project Insight is SHIELD's answer to rising global threat. The world has become chaotic, unpredictable, but we have developed an algorithm that can now predict not just the actions of individuals, but their future. We can see what choices they make, what kinds of people they will become. If they'll become heroes. Or threats. With this algorithm, we can find and intercept these people before they can hurt anyone. It's still in development, we haven't launched it yet.

"It was an idea conceptualized by Fury and approved by the Council. I had my reasons against it, but Fury had brought me around to see his side of things. Of course, that was before I knew about his actions regarding the Lemurian Star…" Pierce rubbed his eyes again. "Oh, this changes everything…"

"S-so you believe me, then?" I asked, even though I already had an answer. Still, I had to be sure. "Am I still — I don't want to get in trouble for this. I know I'm not supposed to know. And I don't want Steve to get hurt. I don't think he has any idea of what Diana discovered. I tried to tell him but… I don't think it got through. I don't even know if he's still alive —"

My voice broke and I couldn't continue, finding myself suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Relief at finally speaking everything (or… almost everything) that had been weighing on me, but also a terrible realization that I might still be too late.

"At the moment, Captain Rogers current status is unknown," Pierce answered, and after a moment, set a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I believe he's still alive, Amelia. I have no doubt about it. He's… he's one tough bastard. And when I'm able, I'm going to offer him the same deal I gave to you. If he's got as much sense as you do, he'll take it. And we can have this all sorted out, and then deal with the real problem."

I nodded quietly, swallowing at the lump that formed in my throat. I hated this feeling, hated how childish it must make me look. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, the first thing is arranging a meeting with my fellow Councilmembers, and asking them what the hell they were thinking with this Project Insight," he told me. "It's clear to me that this whole endeavor has been severely compromised. Insight is set to launch in forty-eight hours. I have a mind to cancel it, indefinitely."

He emphasized it with a wink. "You've done me a great favor today, Amelia. Maybe it's too soon to say, but to hell with it — you're going to change history." He smiled warmly, softly. "Your father would be so proud of you."

I tried to smile back, but it faltered at that last sentence. "Y-yeah. I hope so."

"Were there any other questions you had? I think I learned everything I needed to," When I shook my head, Pierce nodded, "Right. In that case, I think it's time for both of us to get some rest. Fair to say the next few days are going to be big ones."

~o~

My bed that evening would be a real one this time — after Pierce showed me to his guest room, he bade me goodnight and shut the door. Like everything else in the house, the guest room was minimalist but comfortable; queen bed, a bureau, a closet, a desk, a reading chair; again with the overlarge windows, which I covered with curtains almost immediately. And for extra measure, I stuck the desk chair under the doorknob. I noticed after a quick appraisal that the room had its own bathroom, and quickly took advantage of its shower.

It gave me time to think over what just happened. Alexander Pierce had answered all my questions, just as he promised. I had a feeling he was still holding back, but I knew more now than I did before, and it gave me a new context for what I already learned. On top of it all, I had managed to keep the notebook to myself without having to show it or give it away, and I considered that a win. I didn't want to give that away until I had a solid plan on how to spread its information.

And he had given me hope. He believed Steve was still alive. It meant we still had a chance.

I had no pajamas so I wore the same clothes as before, although I did find a large white shirt in one of the bureau drawers. Wearing something clean was a thrill all on its own. I found a small amount of security when I put MJ's bottlecap bracelet back on. Somehow, it had managed to stick with me throughout it all. Maybe it was silly to still wear it at this time, but I wanted to. A reminder for the home I wanted to return to.

Sleep would be a different question.

It came to me fast, and it came fitfully. Exhaustion overwhelmed me as soon as I hit the pillows, but I might have thought twice if I'd known I'd find myself walking in that wintry forest again.

That same goddamn dream.

Heavy footsteps crunching in the deep snow. Pristine white as far as the eye could see. Craggy, razor-edge mountains reaching into the sky, disappearing into the thick clouds above. Snow and wind buffeting from all sides. Still, marching on regardless.

The soldier, directly ahead of me. A silent, moving statue. He said nothing. I did the same.

Columns of bare trees passed us on either side. This time, I recognized a few. The same path as last time. We were heading towards the same village as before.

I thought knowing this time around might give me power over this memory, this dream, this whatever it was — but I couldn't pull away. I couldn't stop or change anything. I was an audience trapped inside my own head, watching it all as if it were happening to someone else.

But the cold felt real. The metal in my hands felt real. It couldn't be anyone else but me.

Just like last time, we came upon a ridge high over a valley. Below us, the buildings all clustered together in their modest little town. It was daylight. People were out and about. I couldn't tell if this was before or after the man with the mustache had been killed on his front porch. If it was after, it seemed everyone had forgotten about it, moved on with their lives; moving about at an easy speed, chatting with their neighbors. Not blocking their windows. Not keeping their children inside. Not looking over their shoulders.

I crouched next to the soldier, and this time he pointed out the next target. Far down in the village, walking along a path in the empty crop fields, were a pair of children, maybe teenagers. A boy and a girl, playing in the wide open space, their laughing ringing out even from here.

I couldn't see their faces from here. The soldier only pointed to one. The girl.

When I looked down through the rifle sight, I found the target easily. She was watching the boy as he made a funny impression. Her back was turned towards me, so all I saw was a pale blonde head.

Good. I thought to myself, in a mind that wasn't my own. Easier this way.

I didn't really consider why.

"Сделай выстрел." The soldier ordered.

And just like last time, I told myself not to do it. I wouldn't. I wouldn't.

Not a girl. Please, not this girl.

It was so easy I wanted to cry. There was no one around to stop me. She had no protection. Not even the boy could really amount to much. There was a possibility he might get hurt, too, and that just made it worst. Two kills for the price of one.

How could I do this?

It didn't matter. I had to.

The soldier remained silent. I thought I'd be chastised, or have that same order repeated. Instead, perhaps guessing that I was working up the will to resist, the soldier picked up his own rifle, and settled it on his knee.

My heart nearly stopped. If I couldn't do it, he would.

No matter what happened, the girl would die. All that mattered was who pulled the trigger first.

I wasn't sure what would happen to me if I didn't do it.

My focus returned to the sight, mind racing. The girl, dancing with the boy. Her hair was long and unkempt, and I couldn't make out her face. A moving target was more difficult to hit, but all one had to do was track her actions. Fire where she was going to be next.

My finger fell on the trigger. I tried to pull it back, but it wouldn't shift. Either I did it, or the soldier did.

It has to be me, I thought in my mad sense of logic. No one else. Only me.

I had to do it before he did.

Each heartbeat slammed into my chest with the weight of a sledgehammer. Each second that passed was a missed opportunity. Another one for the soldier to take.

Then, the girl stopped dancing. Her face turned, finally in view.

My heart stopped. I recognized her.

It was me.

Boom.

My eyes flew open, a gasp leaving my chest. Heart racing, I swung my body up and away, filled with the instinct to run.

Knees hit the floor, a soft rug. My hands braced against cool hardwood, and suddenly I realized I wasn't in the forest anymore. No, Pierce's home. A bedroom. In America. I was safe.

It was just a nightmare.

Taking deep, gasping breaths, I tried to calm my nerves, but something was off. The gunshot in my dream still rang in my ears. I winced, rubbing my head. It was like it really happened.

I also heard a different ringing. I looked over, confused. The metal lampshade, on the bedside table. It rang softly, as if something had hit it. Like an object. Or a loud noise.

I blinked, frowning. Wait, did a gunshot wake me up?

And just like that, my heart was pounding again. Oh god. Someone's in the house. Alexander Pierce is in danger. Had to get out, had to find —

I rushed to the door, but jumped back when it opened away from my hand, outside my will. Hallway light flooded in, blinding me for a moment, before I saw Pierce standing in my doorway. "Amelia, are you okay? I thought I heard shouting, or screaming?

"I-I —" Frozen, I could only gaped wordlessly for a second, trying to wrap my head around what I'd just experienced. I had to have heard something. That gunshot was real. But Pierce was fine, and there was no gun in sight. Finally, I slumped against the door frame, adrenalin draining from me and leaving only a headache in its wake. "S-sorry. I had a nightmare, I guess. I thought… I thought I heard a gunshot…"

"A gunshot? No, there wasn't a gunshot," Pierce frowned slightly, shaking his head. "Must've been from your dream. Are you feeling alright, Amelia? I can get you some melatonin if you're having trouble sleeping."

"N-no, I'm fine," I murmured, rubbing my head. It still rattled with the gunshot from my memory. Or… whatever it was. I didn't want to think about it. I decided not to tell Pierce that there wasn't strong enough melatonin in the world to help me sleep. "Just exhausted, that's all. I'm sorry I woke you."

"After the experience you just had, I can hardly blame you for it," Alexander Pierce replied, waving it off. "Try to get some rest, alright? I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," I said, and just as I was about to close the door, I paused. "And thank you. For listening to me."

Pierce smiled. "Of course. I'm a man of my word, Amelia. I'd never let you down."

"Yeah… you know, I just realized," I said, tilting my head as a new thought occurred to me, from our previous conversation. "... You never asked me what I was doing at Tower Bridge when it was attacked. Or how I knew the KGB was in Sokovia."

It was sudden and abrupt, and maybe now was an inappropriate time to bring it up, but I couldn't help it. Just as well, because Pierce looked a little taken aback. "Oh! Well, I do have a, er, a vague understanding of your time in captivity, how you escaped and all. I didn't want to question it and possibly make you relive a traumatic experience…" Pierce frowned at me, noticing I was no longer paying attention. "Amelia, are you alright?"

But I couldn't answer. I wasn't all right. Because right behind Pierce, down the dark hallway, the Winter Soldier appeared.