My heart beats faster as we follow the mystery girl through Brooklyn. Adrenaline races through my bloodstream, and butterflies flutter in my stomach as my fingertips tingle with my powers. Bucky seems in his own world, and unable to answer any of my questions. Following him reminds me of the trust exercises the therapists I would have to see when I was in foster care used to make me do, only this time I'm ready. The girl is weaving through people but not impossible to follow. She makes a few sharp turns and we almost lose her. She ducks into a dilapidated building that turns out to be a bar. The sign is hanging down half of it detached from the wall. The paint is peeling, and the whole place smells strongly of stall alcohol.

"Shall we?" I say stepping inside. Inside, slow music skips out of an old record player. People sit scattered through the place staring down empty glasses. From a first glance I don't find anyone who could be a threat. The girl is gone. We walk up to the bartender. He's a heavy set man with crystal clear blue eyes hidden behind massive discolored bags.

"Hi," I smile and lean forward. He looks back at me unconcerned. I glance at Bucky who as usual is no help. I lean more. "Hail Hydra." I whisper, and wink at him. He doesn't react for a moment.

"You'll be wanting the usual then?" he asks, his voice is thick with an Irish accent.

"You got it," I say. I lope my arm through Bucky's and stear him to a table in the corner.

"I am capable of walking on my own you know," he grumbles when we've taken our seats.

"Are you? I haven't noticed." I say some of my frustration poking through. "So who is it exactly that we were following?"

"I was on mission once and I met her."

"So what's her name?" I ask pulling out my phone ready to hack until I find something.

"I don't actually know her name." he wrings his hands. "It was more of a walk past."

"Okay," I say. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"I had orders to kill a man named Marcus Overy. I saw her on the street after." he takes a breath. "After I did it. She gave me this smile, and said Hail Hydra." I've gone on less, but then again I was hoping to have more. I discreetly run a search on my phone for the name, but nothing comes up. The bartender comes with two tall glasses filled with a violet liquid. He leaves and returns to wiping the counters of the bar.

"So," I say picking up my glass and swirling the stuff around with a flick of my wrist. "Does this light any lights inside your brain?"

"I'm trying not to think about it," he says leaning away.

"Excuse me?" I ask incredulously. He looks at me sheepishly.

"I don't want to be useless."

"I can handle your uselessness," I say. "Drink up." He wrinkles his nose.

"It smells bad." I sniff it too. The smell of burning tar, and pure alcohol singe my nose hairs. I resist the urge to gag.

"Maybe it doesn't taste bad?" I say timidly. He looks at me like you first. I roll my eyes. I lift the glass to my lips and take a small hesitant sip. It's cold and smooth, and grape flavored on my lips. I start to relax until it hits my tongue. My whole mouth is burning. I clap my hand over my mouth. The fiery pain reaches back in my throat surrounding my anything it can reach.

"Are you okay?" Bucky's hands are on my shoulders. I want to respond but I'm choking, the burning is preventing me from breathing. My vision is beginning to go foggy. Bucky's out his chair now as I clutch as my throat. His words sound far away. All of the sudden the burn goes away. Everywhere it touched is cool. I take a breath straightening up. The cool feels nice at first, until I notice that its steadily growing colder. Bucky's talking, he seems relieved but I can't hear what he's saying. My body feels ice cold. My limbs feel like they could break off if I move them. I try to get it under control but it gets worse. I open my mouth to explain my feelings but no words come out. I begin to panic as the cold closes off my throat. The room begins to shake barely noticeable at first, but steadily increasing. Bucky is leaning towards me, his face a mask of concern. The only thing I'm aware of is the fact that I'm making a scene and that I look like an idiot.

"We should head back," I murmur. Bucky nods and slips his arm through mine. As we walk I try to make my wobbly legs seem like a side effect of the alcohol I haven't drunk. At the hotel I sink into a seat with my head between my knees. It's hard to describe what I'm feeling, it's cold, but more than that it's numb, emotionless, clear. I don't feel like myself and I don't trust it. Bucky comes and kneels next to me after a while to check on me.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Better now," I say, clenching and unclenching my fist to check if I really am back to normal.

"At least I feel better now I'm not the only one who had a meltdown." He says with just a little too much glee. I punch him in the shoulder.

It's when I stand up again that I notice it. My vision is sharper. My muscles feel loose, and strong, my mind is alert. I have control over every action I make. The world seems slower, or maybe I'm just processing faster. I can hear the rhythms of Bucky's heart from across the room. As I walk around the room adjusting I can feel it leaving my system, leaving me normal again. It's a scary truth I can't admit to myself that I almost don't want it to leave.

"We need more," I tell Bucky. He looks over at me like I've lost my mind, which maybe I have.

"You mean the stuff that tried to kill you?" He shakes his head, then notices the stoney look on my face. "Fine, lets go."

We head back to the bar and order drinks again. The bartender gives us an odd look, but he serves us just the same. Bucky and I sit across from each other and try to appear as though we are drinking without actually taking a sip. Bucky keeps shooting me these very obvious nervous glances, which I do my best to ignore.

The bar exudes a melancholy feeling that makes the downtrodden, alcohol filled stupor that seems have overcome the people milling about. It brings back a sharp pain in my chest as I remember a similar atmosphere that sent Bobbi and Hunter off. My colleagues, my teammates, my friends cast out of their home, pushed away from the life of sacrifice they had chosen, gone. It had been so hard to let them go, but life had gone on, the team had gone on without them. It reminds me of what I told Mack before I crushed his ribs, that S.H.I.E.L.D. makes what it needs. It scared me how much I believed it when I said it, it still scares me. I pushed it away, I didn't want to think about it, because deep down I know there is some truth to it and if there is some truth to it then in some way it justifies my actions and I don't deserve that.

Bucky shields me while I carefully pour the drink into a water bottle so that we can take it back to the hotel room with us. I have no idea what it is, or what purpose it could have, all I know is that it's important that we understand, except neither of us have the faintest idea of how to get started. My thoughts linger on Simmons, her wide smile, that cheerful laugh, how she'd slip her arm through mine and tell me everything would be alright. I miss her so much. I need her here, I need her by my side to tell me what to do next, I need her eyes on the drink, and her expertise. I need her, but I could never ask her for her help, I still see that look in her eyes when she came to see me to tell me that Hive had been caught. Things will never be the same and that's what hurts worst of all. Ward had said something similar that last mission we'd run together. I had scorned him for it, but maybe there was more vaility than I realized, after everything what I've broken hurts more than how I've broken it.

My mind is alight with old memories as I watch Bucky pace the room just as dead on new ideas as I am. I stare down at the water bottle, it seems so small, like in the long run it won't make any difference at all. It won't attone for all the unforgivable things I have done, but it's the only thing keeping me sane so I take a deep breath and push on.