The Winter Soldier couldn't believe the girl's audacity. To try and attempt an escape plan so stupid—did she have a death wish or was she just stupid? She must have known that he would never have let her go that easily…and yet she had still tried. He couldn't tell if she was incredibly moronic, incredibly crazy, or incredibly suicidal. A part of him was furious at her for trying to pull one over him but a smaller part of him couldn't help but admire the pure recklessness of it all. He wasn't reckless by any means—being reckless could mean costing the mission—but she hadn't given up. That was interesting. It could also cause him trouble, however, so he needed to keep a closer eye on her from now on. He was even more furious with himself for actually falling for her stupid plan, no matter how much of a failure it had been.

He looked at her in his rearview mirror. She was asleep, her head slumped over on her shoulder. Her face looked pale and there was a purple bruise on her cheek where he'd punched her. He hadn't even put half his force into the hit—if he'd used his full force, he would have crushed her face in—but it had still left a mark on her. That wasn't smart. Bruised faces—especially female ones—attracted attention. He would need to cover that up somehow. Bruises bloomed up and down her left upper arm and he knew that her shoulder would be absolutely purple and blue from being dislocated and then popped back in. He needed to get her a jacket too.

Perhaps he should go slightly easier on her for a while…he didn't need her to get any more bruised than she was and he'd effectively displayed his strength enough for her to know who she was dealing with. He couldn't imagine her trying any more tricks. He'd almost seen the resistance literally draining from her body as she wordlessly climbed back into the van without any fighting.

He eyed the clock on the dashboard of the van. Despite her stalling, they were perfectly on schedule. His shoulders relaxed a little but his eyes and mind never stopped scanning or spinning. Some of the Hydra agents thought he was empty and brain-dead inside—a mechanical and vicious dog, Hydra's pit bull—and it was true that parts of him were empty. But parts of him were more chaotic than anyone could have ever imagined.

A storm pounded inside the Winter Soldier's head, as it had for over seventy years now every time he was awake.


The sky was dark when Sophie woke and the van was quiet and still. She blinked groggily and rubbed her eyes, pushing her hair away from her face, her mouth tasting acrid and fuzzy. She would have killed for some toothpaste right now. Glancing at the driver's seat, she saw that the Winter Soldier wasn't there. She tried to look out the window to see where they were but it was so dark that it was hard. Clearly they weren't around any buildings. If she squinted, she thought she could see…waves moving in the distance? Were they by the ocean? What were they doing here? And where was the Winter Soldier?

Right on cue, the van's back doors opened and she jumped a little in fright. He tossed a bag at her and she was still so groggy and confused that she let it fall next to her instead of trying to catch it. He stared in her direction for a moment and then shook his head slightly and slammed the doors shut. Sophie had no idea what that meant. Was he disappointed in her for not catching the bag? Well, excuse me, she thought dully, staring at the plastic. I'm so sorry that I'm not behaving like a model captive.

If it was still the same day that it had been this morning, then it was Sunday night. She had been gone for almost two-and-three-quarters days now. It was entirely possible—probable, actually—that still no one knew she was gone. Tomorrow the real guessing game would begin: Would it be Monday…or Tuesday…or Wednesday that someone realized something was wrong? Sophie could only hope it wouldn't take as long as Wednesday but she didn't have high hopes. Her managers weren't likely enough to care until she was absent without notice for a full week—then they might start wondering. And she had no real friends to notice or care. Her parents wouldn't know until Friday, unless they were notified before then. Either way, it could possibly be another five days before anyone realized Sophie was gone—and then who knows how long it would take for them to realize what really happened? If they ever realized, that is…

Basically, I'm doomed.

He hadn't gotten back into the van and she couldn't see him in the darkness outside. Was he somewhere out there, beyond her line of sight, looking into the van at her? The thought made her feel prickly with unease. Normal people couldn't see through the dark well but…something about him was clearly not normal. Obviously he had a metal arm, which was unusual, but prosthetics did exist and even if his prosthetic seemed far too advanced…well, it could still be explained by science. But the way his feet had crushed the floor in her apartment? The way he had leaped off of roofs of impossible heights and distances? The way he had sent her flying?

No…there was something different with him. He wasn't a normal human, physically. There was a chance that his senses were enhanced beyond normal limits as well. Sophie didn't like the idea at all. It meant there truly was a chance he could hear her heartbeat or smell her adrenaline or read her mind. Who knew how far his abilities went? What if she was dealing with some sort of alien, supernatural freak?

Sophie's stomach cramped a little at the thought and she grabbed the bag to try and distract herself. Instead was more junk food. She couldn't tell if she was relieved because there was more food or disgusted because it was junk food and chips weren't really doing it anymore. Was he trying to starve her? She wouldn't put it past him. And at the bottom of the bag—

Her eyes turned to dimes as she pulled out a mini toothpaste and toothbrush. Her mouth suddenly felt like ash. It was entirely possible that he'd come to the logical conclusion that she would need this by now…but she couldn't help but feel paranoid that he could read her mind. It would explain him always knowing her next move, where she was, what she wanted…

Snap out of it, Sophie, she commanded herself, hands shaking as she unscrewed the toothpaste. Don't jump to any crazy conclusions. She brushed her teeth, taking swigs from a water bottle in the bag and spitting into the bucket, closing her eyes so she didn't have to see her toothpaste-y saliva mix with her old bile and saliva. If she saw that, she really would heave. When she was done, she poured the rest of the water over her head and wiped her face, drying it on the hem of her shirt. Still not perfectly clean but at least she felt cleaner. That was a plus.

The second she had finished, his door opened and he slid into the van. This didn't help lessen her fears that he had been watching her through a window this whole time. Ignoring the clench in her stomach, she took a deep breath and asked, "Are you ever going to tell me why you took me? Or where we're going?"

He was silent and still, staring out the front windshield.

"Are you ever going to show me your face?" she asked. It seemed incredible to her that she still had no idea what he looked like. Was he doing it for his safety? So if she got away, she wouldn't be able to identify him to the police or pick him out of a lineup? She didn't really see how effective his cover would be when he had a metal arm. Besides…even if he didn't have the arm…she knew she would always be able to pick him out of a lineup. There was something to his build, a lethal and dangerous aura that surrounded him, an unnatural stillness that she would never forget. Even if she survived this and lived to be a hundred, she would never forget. He would always haunt her nightmares. The scariest kidnapper alive. Sophie almost wished he was some fat, bald creeper with yellow teeth. At least that way she would know he was truly human and could be defeated or tricked.

This guy seemed…engineered.

Even his name implied he was one of a kind. The Winter Soldier. The word "soldier" generally wasn't a title. Lord, Prince, Captain…these were all titles. "Soldier" wasn't…and the fact that "soldier" was his title implicitly implied that he was a soldier beyond the rest. The most dangerous soldier out there.

"Soldier" also implied that he reported to someone else. Sophie didn't know why she had never thought of it before…but perhaps he was retrieving her for someone, or carrying out some sort of mission. That would explain his silence or why he hadn't touched her yet. If he had been kidnapping her for his own purposes—to hold her ransom, to kill her, because he was obsessed with her…any reason a criminal needed to kidnap someone—wouldn't he have explained his nefarious purposes yet? Called someone to demand money for her yet? Or, at the very least, sexually assaulted her or tortured her?

But all he had done was hit her—when she resisted him. She had a sneaking suspicion that if she complied with him, he wouldn't touch her. He almost seemed averse to touch, the way he angled his body away from her, the way he refused to look at her, the stillness of his presence.

"Are you working for someone?" she asked quietly. "Did someone ask you to bring me to them?"

He was silent but she thought she saw him still just a tiny bit more.

"How much are they paying you?" she asked, trying to stay calm. Perhaps there was a way out of this. "I can double it. Triple it. You know who my father is, right?" Of course he did, that was likely the reason he was taking her. "He can pay any sum you want. He can pay more than whatever they're paying you. You don't have to do this. Take me back—and I won't even tell the police. You can take your money and go."

He didn't say a word and Sophie suddenly felt stupid. What if she was wrong? What if he wasn't working for someone? Maybe he really was in it for himself.

But if he was…what did he want? He was remarkably silent when it came to money. Wasn't that what all bad guys wanted?

She tried to think about it logically in her mind. When a bad guy kidnapped a woman, there were usually a few possibilities: 1) He wanted to rape her and/or kill her. 2) He wanted to keep her as some sort slave, the way Ariel Castro had kept those poor women in his house. 3) He wanted to hold her for ransom.

She didn't think he wanted to rape or kill her. He hadn't touched her or looked at her inappropriately in a sexual way even once yet. Well…she wasn't sure if he had looked at her but she had a feeling he hadn't. Of course, he could absolutely be waiting to just get her to his hidden lair and then he could sexually assault her—but she just had a feeling it wasn't this. She sincerely hoped so, anyway.

The same went for keeping her as some sort of slave or captive. She didn't really have any proof against him wanting to do this…but she also didn't have any definitive proof that he did want to do this. It was all up in the air and going off of his previous actions, he didn't act like an obsessed man or someone who was doing this because he personally desired to have her.

And then there was the money. The most logical reason he could be doing this—and yet he hadn't made a ransom call (that she knew of) and he was remaining mum on the subject, even when she was offering millions of dollars that she knew her dad would pay to get her back.

There is another thing he could want you for, a cynical part of her mind said. And you're deliberately trying to ignore it. Something only you have the ability to do.

The idea made Sophie's heart freeze in terror. She would honestly have rather been assaulted and then chopped up into little pieces than consider this option. At least that way, only she would get hurt. But if it was the other thing…in the wrong hands…she could quite literally end the entire world. Or at least a good portion of it. She could be responsible for so much death and despair.

She wished she had a cyanide pill hidden in her teeth like spies always seemed to in novels. She wanted to kill herself right now, thinking about what she was capable if utilized in full form in the worst way.

He suddenly got out of the car and she wondered if she had pissed him off. The back doors opened and he climbed in, unlocked her, and dragged her out of the van. Her legs felt unsteady as she stumbled away from in, blinking and taking in the scene around her. The air was hot and heavy and humid. The sky was a dark blue and she could see stars sparkling above. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and the sea and she could hear the faint rushing, roaring sound of the ocean to her left. Sand and gravel gritted under her Converse and the faintest breeze teased her limp locks, pressed against her already-sweaty neck.

Her t-shirt and yoga pants were sticking to her body because of the humidity and sea mist swirling over it and she pinched her shirt and held it away from her body, fanning her face and looking for any signs of humanity. She saw none. They seemed to parked right beyond a dark and abandoned strip of a beach. Dense overgrowth and forest rose up on their right and the beach stretched down the way on the left. There were no buildings or lights anywhere in sight. The area was completely isolated.

Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is where he's going to cut me up into little pieces and feed me to the sharks. Heartbeat picking up in fear, she turned questioningly to him but he was standing with his arms crossed, staring past her at a distant point in the ocean. She followed his gaze and squinted when she saw pinpricks of light in the distance. What the hell was that?

"What…?" she murmured to herself, stepping forward onto the soft sand, squinting. As she slowly walked closer to the water's edge, the lights came closer as well and she realized it was a boat. Not as big as a yacht or a cruiser but not as small as a fishing boat. Just a medium-sized boat that could probably hold ten or fifteen people on it. It only had two small lights on inside; the rest was pitch black.

In a blinding moment of clarity, Sophie understood.

Her body reacted faster than her mind did. She was already running down the beach when her mind caught up with her and by the time her mind did catch up with her, she already knew running was pointless. She wouldn't have been able to outrun him on solid pavement with good running shoes—what had made her think she could outrun him in Converse on soft, squishy sand? It felt like the nightmare where you run and run and run but you seem to run more slowly with every passing minute. It was almost a relief when he grabbed her from behind and dragged her back. His touch felt casual, almost gentle, compared to his extreme violence before and Sophie didn't fight him anyway, feeling too limp and confused and exhausted to really go at it.

In a way, the whole scene might have been something out of a tragicomedy—if it hadn't been so horrifying.

They stood there, waiting and watching as the boat drew nearer. She stood with her back pressed against his chest, his metal arm around her waist, her almost drooping into him, so great was her exhaustion. If someone had seen them from a distance, they might have thought it was a couple standing together on the beach, that was how intimate their stance looked. However, they wouldn't have seen how painfully tight he was holding her, how blank his eyes were as he watched the ship get closer, or how defeated and scared she looked.

She closed her eyes and focused on not puking. He'd probably make her eat it or something. I am going on this boat. This boat is clearly not an official cruise around the U.S., nor is it going out for some fishing or a joyride. This boat is going to leave the country and I am leaving with it.

Sophie knew now she was fully, completely, one hundred percent alone in this mess.

"Where is it taking us?" she asked, fingers muffling her words, trying to breathe normally. She didn't expect an answer and by god, she wasn't disappointed. He didn't say anything. He should have been called the Silent Soldier, not the Winter Soldier.

Finally, the boat seemed to stop moving. It was still hundreds of yards out from the shore but it didn't seem to be moving any closer. This was apparently their cue. The Winter Soldier let her go and walked towards the trees in the distance to their right. He didn't even look back at her, assuming she wouldn't run again. He was right. She wasn't stupid enough to try the same exact thing twice. She watched dully as he dragged a small canoe or something out from the trees and brought it over to the water. He looked up at her and she walked towards him. No point in prolonging the inevitable. She stepped into the boat and he pushed it into the water. Then he leaped in, the small boat shuddering and jerking at his sudden weight. He picked up two oars laying at the bottom of the boat and began to row rhythmically. Sophie imagined picking up one of the oars and slamming it over his head, cracking his skull open, letting his brains slide to the floor.

She turned away and focused on the boat they were getting closer to. As they got close to it, she could see people moving around on the tiny deck. They bumped against the boat and a rope ladder was thrown over the edge, clattering against Sophie's feet. She glanced back at the Winter Soldier, who was watching her through his goggles and mask, and began to climb up the rope ladder. The rope handles were slick and she lost her footing once, slipping and falling, but he grabbed her waist from below and shoved her back up. In fact, he shoved her so hard that he almost sent her flying over the edge of the boat. She grasped the edge and other hands—rough, cold hands, a man's hands—grabbed her and pulled her over on the other side. She hit the deck and lay there for a moment before slowly getting to her feet. The Winter Soldier leaped over the edge feet over arms in a lithe, catlike move that would have wowed Sophie—had she not been too busy staring at the faces of the men who surrounded her. Powerfully-built men with shaved heads and Nazi tattoos, tattered black clothes, and dangerous glints in their eyes. Modern day sea pirates, Russian by the look of them.

Sophie wanted to be four again, sitting in the cozy comfort of her bedroom, her mother reading bedtime stories and favorite childhood poems to her before she fell asleep.

But all the king's horses and all her father's men…wouldn't find Sophie ever again. And she had a sickening feeling that her story wasn't going to have a happily ever after.