A storm is brewing in the hot mess that is Lance's head. It could either work out really well or be a huge disaster.

Happy holiday's! I'm not working "much" this week, so hopefully I can get some more written to keep your holidays filled with reading material!

Please continue to review and also go read the first installment of my new story!

"I'm not forcing you to do this." Dad glanced over at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. I looked down at the mug of coffee Arlene had insisted I take before we left. "Whatever you want to do kid."

"I want to wake up from this nightmare." I mumbled without looking up. "With some decent memories intact and not only the shitty ones." Dad sighed, I felt it as his mood shifted. "I apologize." My words had caused the shift, it was obvious.

"No need to apologize. I appreciate the honesty." He paused, hesitating before he finished his thought. "However, since this isn't a nightmare, its real life as insane as that feels, and you have no control over where, when or if your memories return, what are you, what are we, going to do in the mean time? Because the situation isn't going to change." Pulling my hoodie up over my head, I put the mug to my mouth and chugged the hot liquid, enjoying the burn. Dad patted my metal shoulder. "You can't ignore it Lance. You have to decide how you want to handle this." Continuing to chug my coffee, I kept my head down. "The decision is all yours to make. As hard as that is for you to accept." Finally putting the mug down, I looked at Dad.

"I didn't like it, but it was a hell of a lot easier to not think. To just be a weapon…even if it was for HYDRA." Shaking my head like it would dislodge the thought, I sighed before resting my head back forcefully against the head rest. Dad didn't speak, continuing our ride in silence. "Everything bouncing around is chaotic as fuck. Somethings just feel like I should know them, like seeing Sarah at the restaurant. I recognized her, but I didn't know WHY, just that something told me I did. And then the other memories, I can't recall what is real, something I actually remember, and what is just fucking programmed in there." I growled in frustration. "I hope all those fuckers rot in hell, and I hope I get to send some of them there." The truck came to a sudden halt and looking up I realized we were in a parking lot. Dad was staring at me with a knowing look in his eyes.

"You need to write it all down. Anything you remember, no matter how big or small. Or anything that is familiar." I sighed at his suggestion.

"I'm not trying to write a fucking book!" I had anger boiling beneath my skin and I was fully aware it wasn't directed at Winter, but I couldn't help but see him as an easy target. Dad shook his head as he rolled his eyes at my anger.

"Kid, I'm not telling you to write a fucking book. I'm telling you to write down those moments where you feel that sense of familiarity, even if you can't put a finger on why. As someone that has some experience, I'm trying to help you out. But you've got to do the work. I can only make the suggestions." His eyes were cloudy as he spoke. I knew he was coming from a good place, but damn if I didn't just want to choke slam someone right now. Taking a deep breath I looked around the parking lot we were in, realizing we had made it to our destination and I was in a foul mood, perfect. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Again Dad with the warning he continued to give before I did anything and everything.

"I know…" My terse tone caused him to tense. Clearing my throat I tried it again. "I know." I finished the remaining coffee in my mug. "погнали." I opened the door and started to get out before I noticed Dad wasn't moving. Instead he was staring at me. "What?"

"русский…" He said softly and I thought back at my words.

"I didn't…" I didn't recall any Russian leaving my mouth. "I said let's go."

"In Russian…" He gave me a small smile. "It's not a big deal, just want to make you aware of it." I let out a big sigh.

"Fucking assholes fucking up my fucking brain…" I mumbled to myself as I slammed the door closed with unnecessary force.

"Take it easy killer…" Dad spoke without thinking. "Wrong place to use that term." It was his turn to mutter under his breath. I gave him a half hearted shrug.

"We are what we are." I rolled my eyes.

"That's not what we, me or you ARE. It's what we were made to do, but you didn't do it of free will. I need you to understand that." He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. I wanted to give him some kind of confirmation that I understood, but the two biggest memories I currently had were baby me slashing a random guy's throat open then hearing him gurgle his last breathes and then attempting to do the same to Sam Wilson.

"Can we change the subject?" I looked down at my feet, the memories now in the forefront of my mind right before we were going to walk into the hospital I put Sam into because I FAILED to off him like I was ordered to. Because the Asset didn't follow its orders, because the asset was broken. Not because Lance Barnes prevailed, just because HYDRA didn't take a firm enough hold. Sam still being alive didn't prove I was a good person, it proved that I was a malfunctioning weapon.

"Holy shit! Kid!" The voice was a bit raspy, but it still held tones that were familiar. Dad had walked into the room first and I wasn't but a step or two behind him. It took all of my will power to look up at the man who spoke from the bed. I bit my lip hard when I lay eyes on Samuel Thomas Wilson. All things considered the man looked good, he had tape on his throat, covering what I assumed were a massive amount of stitches. I was surprised he was talking as well as he was, recalling him gasping. I wasn't aiming for the vocal chords, but they couldn't have been far off of where my knife sliced through the flesh of his neck. Bile rose in the back of my throat and suddenly I felt super light headed.

"Junior!" A female voice that I recognized. "Come on, take a seat." I felt a small hand on my back, guiding me into a chair as the edges of my vision grew dark and I felt my respirations increase. "Slow breaths." Aunt Sarah…that's whose voice that was. Sarah squatted down in front of me, a trash can between us. "If you think you're going to get sick, there's this." She nodded at the can. "But slow, deep breaths. You're okay. We're here in Sam's hospital room. You, myself, your Dad and Sam." I heard her words and tried to process them as best I could. I felt a hand in my hair, massaging my scalp. "Slow breaths." The words were soft and soothing. "In through your nose, out through your mouth." Something about this tone of voice was familiar, the words Sarah were saying even sounded familiar. "I know this is hard. But you'll get through it." Her voice was low and close, the words spoken only for me. I felt my eyes slowly closing as I focused on my breathing and the soothing voice. "That's it Junior, just relax." Sarah's hands rested on either side of my face and I felt her fingers working slow circles on my temples. My eyelids were heavy with the relaxation I was feeling, but I forced them open. Sarah was looking at me with a soft yet concerned look on her face. I straightened in my seat.

"I shouldn't…I'm not supposed to react like that." The feeling of absolute helplessness was new, the inability to catch my breath was frightening. I hadn't been injured, I hadn't been drugged, I shouldn't have felt any of those things upon walking into a room.

"It's a panic attack." She said as if that would explain it all.

"Why would I panic?" That's when I looked past her and realized again exactly where I was and who was here. The bile again rose in the back of my throat. Sarah held the trash can up just in time as I expelled the contents of my stomach.

"I'm sorry…" I spoke as I raised my head from the can. At first I thought I was apologizing for being an absolute wreck and vomiting while Sarah caught it, but then my eyes settled on the man in the bed who had been watching me with a concerned look on his face. "I am so sorry." I said the words softly as I locked eyes with him. "I didn't want to do it." I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "I didn't know. Who you were, who I was." He patted a spot on the bed next to him. "I…I shouldn't…" He looked fragile and I was a train wreck. "I'll just sit right here." Breaking our eye contact I stared down at my hands, I could feel the weight of my knife in my hand even without it being there.

"Kid, come over here and take a seat." The tone was annoyed and the voice still remained raspy. I glared at the man who was attempting to give me orders. Sam returned the glare and again patted the spot on the bed. "Ya tried to kill me, the least you can do is get over here and give me a hug." I had no idea what look crossed over my face, but the statement left me confused. Sarah patted my leg and before I knew what I was doing I was on my feet and moving over to sit beside him. Sam wrapped an arm around me in a half hug. "Boy I thought you had gotten bigger, but I was bleeding out of the slice to my throat so I wasn't sure if it wasn't just the blood loss that had me imagining things." He chuckled after his statement and I had no idea what to say to that.

"Sam, stop picking at him." Sarah scolded from her seat where she was tying up the trash bag full of my vomit.

"I know that wasn't you." Sam's gravelly voice lowered and I set my eyes on Dad, who sat in the chair across from the foot of the bed. "I'm not sure who that was, but it wasn't my nephew." I turned to look at him.

"But it was, that was me." Sam gave me a small smile. "I still remember it, all of it. If Winter, I mean, Dad…" I nodded in his direction. "Hadn't shouted and startled me, you…you would be dead. And I would still be their Asset. I would have completed my mission." Sam sighed and shook his head.

"You and the Asset aren't the same person, kid. I need you to realize that." He gave my arm a squeeze. "Damn, seriously, why are you so ripped? I literally was there with you a few months back and you were the same size as THAT GUY…" Sam rolled his eyes in Dad's direction. "They put you on some crazy beach body fitness program after I escaped?" He gave me a nudge with his elbow and a true smile that crinkled his eyes. I wanted to return the smile, but my thoughts wouldn't allow it.

"They gave me more of the blue stuff. An upgrade." Again looking down at my hands. "That's what Dr. Zola said." Sam's eyes shifted from me to Dad.

"Zola? The Nazi scientist?" Sam's question was directed at Dad.

"He's Swedish…" I muttered. "And HYDRA…not a Nazi…" I watched Sam's eyes roll at my answer.

"Same thing." He muttered. "Wasn't that the guy that gave you your first arm?" Sam again questioned Dad, who gave Sam an eye roll of his own.

"Sure Sam, the same guy from 1945 who was completely human is still alive and doing Hydra's bidding all of these years later." Dad shook his head. "You hear how stupid you sound?" Sam scoffed at Dad.

"Evil's hard to kill." He gave a shrug. "I'm literally having a conversation with two super soldiers right now, one that is 140 years old. Don't tell me my question was stupid. Nothing is out of the realm of possibilities." Again Dad rolled his eyes.

"His grandson. Liam Zola." Dad said the name and I felt the chills up my spine.

"Fucker…" I muttered, my mind drifting to my last encounter with the Doc. Sam gave me a pat on the back.

"I'm sure the White Wolf over there took care of that 'fucker' for you. Didn't you Buck?" I watched Dad suddenly take an interest in staring at his hands before he looked up with a small shake of his head. "Seriously?" The shock in Sam's voice was clear as could be.

"I tried to find him. He ghosted." Dad's voice was low and his eyes never left his hands. "I got Rumlow and his goons. He's not coming back from the dead this time. But Zola was in the wind." I could feel Sam stiffen next to me.

"It's alright." I said with a shrug, not feeling any kind of way about the news. I hadn't given the lives of any of them much of a thought right now, except that I wouldn't have a problem making them my mission and killing every last one of them. "I can find him and take care of it." I felt three sets of eyes burn into me.

"Uh…Lance…" Sam stammered.

"Junior!" Sarah's voice was shrill and reprimanding.

"Don't get any ideas." Dad's voice was the calmest and I knew he understood. The ideas were already forming.