I've rewritten this chapter. The actual start begins in the next chapter. I kept this messy start because I liked a few lines.

Something ate at my core. It was a nagging, suppressed nervousness that threatened to surface at any moment. I couldn't resist the tap of my foot, or even the nail biting, as the file lie unopened before me.

"Are you okay?"

A feminine voice broke me from the trance. I turned my attention to my best friend, whose brown eyes were wild with concern.

"I'm fine." I offered her a half assed smile, those brown eyes studying me intently.

"(Y/n), no you're not. You're biting your nail."

"Okay, fine, so I'm a little nervous. When I asked Steve for protection, this isn't what I had in mind. Dianne, he's a killer."

"Was a killer," Dianne emphasized. "I thought you looked over his file?"

Her fingers connected with the folder and she dragged it across the surface of the table. "Have you forgotten who he is?"

"The Winter Soldier."

"Incorrect. He's James Buchanan Barnes: Steve Rogers' best friend and Captain America's first choice for you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Dianne opened the file that held all of James' information. Her question weighed heavily in the air as I sat in the silence that followed. It was a strange, foreign feeling. James was Steve's best friend since childhood- how would he react to the idea of protecting someone Steve used to mentor?

"Holy shit," Dianne said, breaking the silence. "He is one fine motherfucker. When they said ex-assassin, I wasn't expecting to see a chizzled fucking god. He puts the ass in assassin. Just look-"

"Stop fucking around," I said as I snatched the folder from her. "He's unstable. He wasn't my first choice, but Steve recommended him anyway."

Silence fell over us once again. My eyes glanced down at the folder, and I couldn't resist the creeping urge to scour over the contents. The first photo screamed at me as the cover fell open. James stood clapping for his best friend, who had rescued the entirety of the hundred and seventh. He'd been a victim- subjected to torturous experiments conducted by Hydra. After he fell to his assumed death, Steve mourned.

But as his best friend thought him dead, James was simply resurrected as a weapon of slaughter. I felt my stomach sink deep, flipping and twisting as the thought of meeting him raced through my mind. Even though he spent time in Wakanda and claimed his ties to Hydra were severed, something that strong never went away. James was under their spell for over fifty years; it ran so deep within him that he was practically pumping pent up cravings through his veins.

As I turned over a page, my heart rate increased. I glanced at a photograph of James fighting Captain America; a knife levitated in the air mid toss- the only intention being to drive it home. Truthfully, I hated him. A faint, distant hatred that pulsed through my body. It didn't help that I was slightly afraid of him, and I wasn't ready to admit that.

But it was written all over my face.

"Okay, seriously, (y/n), what's wrong?"

I tore my eyes away from the folder that brought out my hidden fright. "I hate him. I hate him and, quite frankly, Dianne, I'm a little scared of him. He did all of this shit, he killed people, and everyone acts like it's okay. Honestly, I don't give a shit what Steve saw in him. How am I supposed to trust someone who used to be a murderer with my life?"

Dianne opened her mouth to answer, but someone cut her off.

"I can assure you, Mr. Barnes has come a long way. He's a changed man."

"People like him don't change."

My eyes looked up at the man who stood before the table. His hands were entwined behind his back, while amusement danced across his features. "Steve told me a lot about you. You don't trust easily."

"And who are you, if I might ask?" I blurted, that burning rage pulsing deep within my core.

"Roman Atwood. I've been assigned to escort you to meet Mr. Barnes. He should be ending his therapy session right about now." Roman glanced at his watch, his brows knitting together.

"Therapy! How wonderful. He's mentally unstable and seeing someone about it, that settles any and all concerns I had about this."

"(Y/n)-" Roman began.

"By all means, Mr. Atwood, lead the way. I'd hate to keep him waiting."

I couldn't help the sarcasm, or even the rage. It came naturally- and it drove people away. My palms grew warm as the skin threatened to ignite. One of the reasons Steve had been my mentor was to get control over my power; otherwise I'd have burned an entire city down unintentionally.

Roman's mouth clamped shut, and he gestured towards the door. I looked to Dianne who had risen as well, but I could see on her face that her time ran out. I knew I had to deal with this alone, and it pushed me closer to that edge.

"I'll see you later," I didn't share any more words as I pushed past Roman and heaved myself through the door.

His footsteps echoed along the hallway as he followed. I wasn't interested in conversation, but for some reason, he kept opening his mouth.

"I can understand your hesitation to meet with him, but I can promise you Mr. Barnes is not the man he used to be. As part of his conditions, he's supposed to make amends."

"That doesn't bring back anyone he killed, or makes him exempt from his actions. Hypnosis or not, he was dangerous. He was a murderer."

"That's… true. But, Mr. Rogers trusts him enough to leave you in his care."

"Everyone keeps telling me this is what Steve wanted. Did anyone ask what I wanted?"

"You were the one who went to him for help, (y/n). You don't exactly get to pick and choose who protects you."

I kept my mouth shut, despite the nagging urge to open it and rain my mouth's hellfire upon him. I wanted to counter, but I knew he was right. Deep down.

We neared the end of the hall and I felt that same fear creep its way into my throat. I couldn't breathe and my chest tightened with anxiety. I went from some sarcastic, mouth-running bitch to a scared child. I hadn't realized I halted before the door until Roman gripped the handle, and pushed it open.

Beyond the doorway stood a woman. She argued with another man, whose face I recognized right away. My heart jumped up into my throat when his eyes landed on me. The argument ended, and the woman turned to see what caused James to go silent.

"Ah, (y/n), it's a pleasure to finally meet you." She sauntered over to me and held out her hand. I took it, my mouth dry. "I was just… reminding James of his condition. I'm his therapist."

Her grip slipped from mine and I finally noticed that I was shaking. Lightly, though enough for his therapist to feel. Any concern she might have had didn't surface, not even as her eyes looked behind her to James.

"James, come on. Don't be shy."

The former Winter Soldier swiped both of his hands through his hair, brushing it back. I took it as an insult, but really he was having an inner battle with himself. James appeared at the woman's side, a forced smile on his face. He held out his gloved hand, intense blue eyes staring directly into mine.

My hand clasped around his.

Whether he noticed my shaking or not, I couldn't tell. "It's good to finally meet you," James said.

I wasn't aware that internally, I was caught off guard by his eyes. They were a pale blue, but the color didn't do the pain that lurked deep within them any justice. His eyes almost screamed how broken he was, and I realized I held onto his hand longer than I wanted.

"I know who you are," I interrupted, tearing my hand from his. "(Y/n)." Suddenly, I forgot all about his broken gaze. Something flashed across James' eyes. I didn't bother keeping mine locked on them, so instead I turned my attention to his therapist.

"Remind me what the terms and conditions are?"

"James has been assigned your guardian as requested by Steve Rogers. As part of his pardon, he's supposed to protect you, and assist you when necessary."

"That's kind of a push for an ex-assassin, don't you think? He isn't the kind to protect."

My attention snapped to him, and immediately I regretted what I said. The statement fell past my lips with no filter, and I could tell I wounded him. James looked down at the ground for a brief moment, before swiping a hand over his mouth. He looked to his therapist.

"Are we finished?" He asked, his voice dark. It was deep, and quiet. It was astonishingly quiet.

"Not yet. You know what you're supposed to say."

James struggled to meet my gaze, until finally he held his hand out again. Defeat ran clear across his blue eyes, and I almost couldn't stomach the pain that swelled in them.

"I am no longer The Winter Soldier. I'm James Bucky Barnes, and you're part of my efforts to make amends."