Part One
You were tagged and ID'd before you even got within a mile of the Avenger's compound. You weren't concerned, per se, besides maybe that James 'Bucky' Barnes would put a bullet in your skull before you even got a chance to plead your case. There are three of them standing outside the compound and you keep your hands in front of you as you approach, palms facing outwards. Bucky's finger twitches over the trigger of his gun; a jet black rifle that would tear you apart before you would even have a chance to move. Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend and a constant thorn in the side of HYDRA stands warily beside him, tense but unarmed. On his other side stands Natasha Romanoff, former Soviet spy turned super-hero, she's also armed, but the pistol is safely in it's holster.
"I'm not here to fight," Any sense of confidence you might have had is obliterated as Barnes' hatred washes over you. Your stomach clenches uncomfortably and you have to fight to keep your voice steady, "I just want to talk." The muzzle of Bucky's rifle lifts slightly, no doubt centering in the center of your head. Rogers shoots him a look which Bucky doesn't see. He only has eyes for you. For the first time you realize that this was a mistake.
"Buck," Steve says carefully, "Just hold on one second, okay? We should hear what she has to say."
"I don't give a fuck about what she has to say," You tense slightly as his finger tightens against the trigger, "She's a monster."
"Romanoff," Steve says, and you feel the regret in the word as it leaves his lips. At this Romanoff pulls the pistol and turns it on Bucky.
"Barnes," She says gently, "You and I are going to take a little walk while Steve handles this situation."
Bucky's eyes leave you for the first time to look at her in disbelief, "You want me to leave him alone with her?"
"I want to not have to put a bullet in your leg," Romanoff tells him, not unsympathetically, "Steve can handle this."
"Search her," He demands, staring at Steve, "I'm not moving until I'm positive she's not armed."
"Are you carrying?" Steve asks you and you nod.
"I have a knife in my right boot and a pistol under my jacket in a shoulder holster on my left side." Steve glances at Bucky and then nods at you. You slowly pull back your jacket, revealing the holster and pull the gun, keeping your fingers as far away from the trigger as possible. You slowly kneel down and set it on the cement. Just as carefully you pull the knife and set it down as well before taking two large steps away from the weapons.
"She could be lying," Bucky protests, "Search her."
The look Steve shoots him would be funny in any other situation, it's pure exasperation, but today it's decidedly not. Steve kicks the gun and knife into the grass as he approaches you. You can feel is discomfort even over Bucky's all consuming rage and fear; Steve had an exceptionally open mind. You keep perfectly still as he pats you down. He pauses, pulls a protein bar from your jacket pocket, and then tucks it back in.
"She's clean," Steve says. He takes a few steps away from you, but doesn't turn his back. "I'll take care of this Buck. Nat, get him out of here."
Bucky still doesn't move. "Her gun, Steve. You should have her gun."
"Buck, really—"
"You don't know what she's capable of," Bucky says darkly and once again the force of his hatred for you threatens to overwhelm you. Your head through painfully. He wasn't wrong though. Steve picks up your gun and knife; he slips the former into the waistband of his jeans and tosses the latter into the grass a safe distance from you.
"Alright Barnes," Natasha Romanoff says gently but firmly, "Time to go."
The moment he's inside and out of eyesight you twist to the side, emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the grass beside you while Steve watches, concerned.
"Are you sick?" He hovers confused, somewhere between wanting to help and wary of you. Finished, you slump to the ground and shake your head.
"It's Barnes—he really, really hates me." Now Steve's even more confused. You take a deep breath but it does nothing to ease the throbbing in your head. "I'm an empath," You explain, "Being around feelings like that is extremely difficult. Painful."
"An empath," Steve repeats, "Wait—can you—do you know what I'm thinking?"
"No," You can feel his relief, "I can feel what you're feeling. I can pick up on thoughts, but it's a lot harder. I need skin to skin contact unless someone's mind is extremely open and usually only if they're trying to send me something." Gloves. You blink in surprise—You shouldn't be able to pick up anything from him from this distance, but the thought is clear in your mind. "I wear them because I don't like to invade people's privacy and I pick up on emotions enough as is."
His eyes narrow. "I thought you needed skin to skin contact."
"You must have an open mind," You smile tiredly, "I'm not trying to intrude. Really."
Steve sits on the ground a few feet away from you so you're eye to eye. He's debating on whether or not to ask you about Bucky. You're amazed—you'd never been able to read anyone as easily as you can read Steve.
"How do you know Bucky?" You don't need to be able to pick up his thoughts in order to know this is a test; during your approach Bucky had obviously filled him in.
"I was there when he came to HYDRA," You close your eyes, "I was all he had and I betrayed him."
Your response sparks two responses in Steve; anger and confusion.
"You should be much older."
"So should you and so should he." You don't say his name; you had a feeling Steve wouldn't like it very much if you did.
"Your average person can't survive being frozen."
"That's not a question, that's the answer to your question," Your open your eyes again to look at him, "I don't do coy well, Captain. You know I've got abilities and you know I'm physically enhanced. You don't care about that. You want to know what I did to your friend and you want to know why I'm here."
"You read that from my mind?"
"I didn't need to," You want to close your eyes again until the feeling of Bucky's hatred finally leaves your body, if it ever would. Instead you meet his gaze, curiosity burns behind his eyes. "I'm the one who wiped his memories the first time. The machine they built is based on my abilities."
Anger flares in him, but his face remains impassive, "Why?"
"I didn't have a choice."
His anger is starting to grate against your mind, and your stomach lurches unhappily again. "Why are you here?"
"His memories were never erased," This surprises him, "Think about it—if they were, how would he know who he is right now? Running into you again triggered something and some things started to come back, right? Not everything probably, but some things. That's because I didn't do what HYDRA wanted; I didn't erase them. I built a wall in his subconscious and hid them safely behind it. I'm here because I thought I could help."
"You could retrieve those memories?" He's hesitant to believe you, but he wants to. "What about the programming? Could you bury that like you did his memories? Make it so he couldn't be activated?"
"Captain, I can erase it completely. He'd never need to worry about it again."
"How do I know I can trust you? I need to know you are who you say you are."
You hesitate, then pull off one of your gloves. You were hoping you could avoid this, but you have a feeling it's the only way you're going to get through this without ending up in a jail cell. You steady yourself, ignoring his curiosity. You quickly hash out what you need to show him to get him to trust you and what you can keep to yourself. You weren't quite ready for Steve Rogers to know everything. You hold out your hand to him and after a moment of hesitation he takes it. Immediately you're almost overwhelmed; and once again your struck by how incredibly open his mind was. You could see scrape of memory, emotion, and thought everywhere. You force yourself to focus, tighten your grip, and then start sending your own thoughts and memories back through the connection. You can feel his own reactions through what is almost an infinite loop, and then you drop your hand from his.
He looks at you, his expression stunned, while you slump forward, your vision graying at the edges. He catches you reflexively, and his concern flows into you from the newly made connection.
"I'm fine," You assure him as you jerk backwards away from his hands. "It just takes a bit out of me. I've had kind of a rough day, if I'm being honest." You reach into your pocket and pull out the protein bar. You finish it in two bites and then shove the wrapper back into your pocket.
"What was that?"
"Are you asking me questions you already know the answer to to see if I'll tell you the truth, or do you just like being redundant?" You pull your glove back on, "That was me—my mind, my memories, my feelings. Did you eel any malice? Any ill-intent?"
"You could be lying." He's afraid to believe you, which is even worse than not believing you.
"You would've felt it if I was," You shake your head, "If you didn't believe that then there's nothing I can say that will change your mind." You climb unsteadily to your feet, which Steve echoes without registering it, "Now am I being taken prisoner, or can I go?" Without waiting for an answer you turn on your heel and take a single step.
"Wait," You turn, looking over your shoulder, "Just wait." You feel bad, you can't help it. The events of the last hour had exhausted Steve, and you definitely weren't helping. "I need time. This isn't just my decision, and I just don't know if I can trust you."
"You may not trust me," You tell him, choosing your words carefully now, "But you do believe me, so there's no sense in pretending you don't." Steve frowns at your words, "Look Captain, I can read you like a book. You're not going to be able to lie to me, so learn to close your mind or get used to it."
"I have more questions."
"I would be concerned if you didn't," You purse your lips to hide your smile, "But they can wait. I present no immediate danger and you're more concerned about him at the moment anyway. So how about this, you take me to whatever you glorified holding cell you're planning on keeping me in, I get to wash all of this blood off of me, and you can try and convince your team that I'm not going to murder you all. How does that sound?"
Steve stares at you for a moment, torn somewhere between aggravation and amusement. Finally he nods. "Follow me. And…" He's about to tell you not to try anything, but he can't help but think at this point it's just silly. He knows you're not going to try anything. "Never mind."
He leads you through a lobby to an elevator that you take up to the third floor. You follow behind him silently, your own exhaustion falling heavily over you, and you almost run into him when he comes to a stop at a door at the end of the hallway. A panel next to the door flashes green, most likely a retinal scan then, and the door slides open. Steve gestures for you to enter, so you do, looking around the space. It's simple, a double bed, two nightstands. Better than anything else you had ever had.
"You'll stay in here," Steve says firmly from the doorway, "Don't try anything. There's a bathroom through that door and I'll see what I can do about wrestling you up a change of clothes." He's thinking about Natasha.. You consider telling him they won't fit, but think better of it. He'd figure it out and you weren't overly concerned.
"Lock the door," You tell him as he turns to leave. That stops him in his tracks and he looks over his shoulder, confused, "I'd rather him not bust in here and kill me in my sleep, if at all possible."
He doesn't comment and instead leaves you with a vague, albeit non-threatening, "I'll be back."
You wait until you hear the bolt slide into place before you relax and slump against the wall. It was tremendously relieving to finally be alone with your own thoughts and emotions without anyone else's to intrude. After a few deep breaths you straighten back up and head into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror you have to give both Steve and Natasha credit for the calmness in which they had received your; between the black body-suit with the red HYDRA logo sewn into the shoulder and the blood splattered like grotesque freckles across your face, you honestly couldn't believe they hadn't shot you on sight. Well, maybe not Steve.
You slide out of your boots and jacket, then pull the gloves from your hands. The suit comes next, you slip it off and kick it away from you; the blood had soaked through the fabric in some places, leaving smears of it across your skin. The shower is Devine. You stay under the spray until the water runs clear and then some. You step out, wrap a towel around yourself, and then consider your suit; you could wash it, but you knew you would never get all of the blood out. You could rip off the patch, but you knew it would always feel dirty. Tainted. You reach into the bundle and unsnap a hidden inner pocket; you pull a small black pouch out of it and set it on the sink. With that done you bunch up the rest of the rest of the fabric and dump it into the trash can next to the sink. After a moment's thought you add the boots too. You consider the jacket, made of a rich leather, that you had stolen off the back of a motorcycle on your way to the compound and fold it over your arm; that, along with your gloves, you would keep.
Now that you were clean you allow yourself to sit down on the stark white bedspread and take stock of your body; you were sore. Fighting ten of HYDRA's elite armed forces would do that to you, but mostly you were just tired. You slip on the gloves, their familiar weight is comforting. You lean your head back against the headboard and let your eyes drift closed, but you don't sleep. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone, probably Steve, came back to question you further. You also knew that if your explanations and answers weren't up to snuff you would be pulled out of this comfortable living space and shoved in a prison cell faster than you could shout "civil liberties." You play with the strings of the bag for a moment and then slide it underneath your pillow.
You don't have to wait long, less than two hours later there's a knock at your door, followed by the sound of the bolt retracting. You glance down, making sure your towel is still affording you at least some modicum of modesty, and then fix your eyes on the door as it slides open. Steve freezes briefly when he sees your attire, and then shuts the door behind him where it closes and the lock slides into place.
"Captain," You greet him lightly, amused at his embarrassment, "I see you found some clothes."
"They're Tony Stark's," Steve hands you the bundle; there's a dark grey t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. "You're a little taller than either of the girls."
"The Tony Stark?" You smile, "I'm honored." You stand, "If you'll give me a moment—"
"Right,"Steve turns around quickly, another wave of embarrassment flows over him, "Sorry."
You drop the towel, kick it to the side, and pull on the clothes. The shirt's a little baggy for your tastes, but otherwise everything fits fine.
"Am I pulling it off?" Steve turns around and you extend your arms out, giving him a good look, "Tony Stark, big shoes to fill."
He can't help his amused smile, "You sure are easy going for a HYDRA agent in the Avenger's compound."
"Ex," You remind him, "And don't forget, I chose to come here. No sense in second guessing my decisions. Things will either work out or they won't." You sit back down on the bed, leaning towards him as you speak, "Look, I know you talked to him and I know he said some more very unflattering things against me. I know that you explained to him what I showed you and I also know that he is refusing to have me anywhere near him, let alone his mind. So the question is, what are you planning on doing with me?"
"Why did you leave HYDRA?" He's serious now, and uncomfortable at the idea of interrogating you. You can tell that despite his efforts to remain impartial he likes you.
"I never wanted to join in the first place, I was forced into it. Just like Barnes." It's the first time you've said his name, and you purposefully avoid the nickname. Steve's face remains stoic, but your casual use of his friend's surname does spark some agitation.
"So you were brainwashed as well?"
"No. HYDRA was unwilling to do anything that might tamper with my mental abilities," You tell him, "But that doesn't mean they don't have different ways of conditioning. If you really want me to go into detail about how, I will, but I'm sure you can imagine." Steve nods for you to continue, "I've been decommissioned for a long time now, but when I was awakened I heard an agent reporting about The Asset having been located, here, with the Avengers. I wasn't sure who you were, but I knew it meant that Barnes was out there somewhere, out from under HYDRA's thumb." Steve looks alarmed, "They have no plans on coming after him here, so don't worry. Apparently you're all too dangerous."
That gives him pause. "How long is a long time?"
"Over sixty years."
Any anger he has is rapidly disappearing and being replaced with sympathy. It can only help you, but you still don't care for it. "And you've been awake for…"
"Six months, give or take a week or two."
Steve shakes his head, "So your knowledge of us only comes from what? HYDRA briefings?"
You smile, "Wikipedia. HYDRA never told me anything that wasn't strictly need to know, because they couldn't wipe me. I looked you up on a mark's computer. I needed to know if my hunch was right; that Bucky had found you and broken through my wall. After that I knew I owed it to him to at least try and undo some of the damage that HYDRA has done."
"You care about him?" It's only half a question.
"I owe him," You repeat, "A couple days ago I was sent out for an assassination, a Supreme Court Judge named Wilson Burgess—as far as I know he's still alive, so don't come for me. I'm always accompanied by an armed caravan when I leave the base, for 'protection'," You curl your fingers in air quotes, "But they're really there to make sure I don't make a break for it. I was always kept on a very short leash."
"How did you escape then?"
"I…" You try to be tactful, "Disposed of my guards."
"You killed them?" You can't miss the note of revulsion in the question and your eyes narrow in response.
"Did I kill ten of HYDRA's most ruthless foot soldiers in order to escape their control and voluntarily submit myself to the Avenger's in order to assist an old…" You have to search for the right word, "Partner?" It doesn't sound right, but you continue on, "Yes, I did. And I can promise you the world is better for not having them in it."
"Right," He feels bad for his previous tone, "I'm glad you made it out."
"They weren't expecting it. I've been rather complacent since I woke up. Biding my time." You brush your hair away from your face and meet his eyes; he wants to know what happened between you and Barnes, but he feels uncomfortable asking. "We were kept together when he came to HYDRA; they wanted me to manipulate his emotions, keep him calm. He came to trust me." You swallow, "But he couldn't do it, the things HYDRA wanted him to do. And then one day HYDRA decided they didn't need James Barnes, they just needed his body."
"And they came to you."
"They brought in countless people and ran all kinds of tests as I hid away their memories, and then they built a machine that could do it for them. But it was based on flawed technology, I never erased a single thing and so neither did they. After that they didn't need me anymore. They had a new golden child." Steve's thinking about Bucky's reaction to seeing you again; how strongly he reacted. "I saw him once after that, when he was—well—the Winter Soldier. He didn't recognize me of course, but I could feel him underneath, and he hated me for what I had done. I didn't blame him. I still don't."
"It must be hard…"
"I'm not the victim here," You say sharply, "I did betray him. He's right to feel the way he does. But it does complicate things."
"Complicated is a good word for it," Steve sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. "You're on probation. I gotta give this some time, make sure you are who you say you are and you're here for the reasons you say you are. But I don't want you to think of this as a prison cell, alright? It's a safe house. You've got a lot of people who would like to get their hands on you, but they won't if you're here."
"Oh trust me, I know," You tell him, "And I completely understand. You're perfectly within your rights to keep me here."
"If you try to escape…"
"I can assure you I won't." He stares at you. "Captain, where would I go?"
He shakes his head, "I've got to meet with the rest of the team," He stands, "Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry?"
"I'll live," You smile tiredly, "The moment you walk out that door I'm sliding under those covers and never getting out again."
"I'll bring some food in the morning," He crosses the room, "And I'm locking this."
Please. "Oh, one thing," He stops, "What's AC/DC?" You gesture to the logo on your borrowed t-shirt. Steve laughs.
"It's a band. Like rock music," He grins, "I'm not used to being the pop culture savvy person in the room."
"I can imagine," You give him a brief two fingered salute and watch as he closes the door behind him; the sound of the bolt follows. True to your word you climb beneath the sheets, savoring the comfort of the soft mattress beneath your sore muscles, and within minutes you're asleep.