A/N: First of all, thank you guys SO much for your well-wishes, support, and encouragement after my A/N on the last update. I'm not gonna lie: things have still been hard...but I'm slowly doing more and more better with time! I'm feeling much more alive and awake, and I love you guys so much for how patient you and supportive you are.

Second of all, have you guys seen Luke Cage and Agents of SHIELD season 3 so far? They're on FIRE. I'm so happy to see the MCU expand!

Let me know what you think of the chapter with a review below! I love hearing from all of you!


They traveled through the night. It was possibly the worst sleep of Sophie's night. It was even more uncomfortable than having Winter sleep right next to her, which, she had to admit, had been terrifying at first but not so bad once she'd gotten over the idea. In the long run, what did it matter anyway? She'd already done so many things she'd never have been comfortable with doing before.

But this was a whole new level of uncomfortable—literally. She felt like her neck was going to have a permanent crick in it, her back and shoulders and butt and legs all felt sore and bruised from jostling around on the hard ears of corn… She could have wept but she'd bitten her lip and controlled herself. She wasn't going to cry in front of him again if she could help it.

She dozed off somehow and woke up to bright sunshine and sweet, sweet stillness. The wagon was no longer moving or jostling. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, feeling the midday heat through her thick sweater (which she'd put on during the night). She sat up, finger-combing her hair, and blinked at the scene around her. They were parked in some sort of dusty small town square and there was a large crowd of people standing a ways off, all with bags and small suitcases and rucksacks. Many of them wore coats despite the heat and hats as well. They looked like travelers. Most of them had the tanned skin and glossy dark hair of Peruvians but a few looked like foreigners, paler skin and blonde hair, and Sophie felt her heart lift into her throat a bit. If she could just get to them and signal to them that she had been kidnapped—

A cold, hard hand gripped her shoulder, almost squeezing her neck, and she heard him whisper, "Don't. Even. Think about it."

She inhaled through the pain and hissed back, "Or what?"

"Or I will massacre every single person in this town to shut you up."

She went pale at the thought. She could hear the threat in his voice—he wasn't kidding. "Okay," she said. "I get it. You don't have to worry."

Foiled once again, she thought to herself in a mock-villain voice and couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Hey, a girl had to find humor in the darkest situations, didn't she?

The driver of the wagon was nowhere to be seen. Sophie wanted to be let down but she figured she had to wait for him to return from whatever he was doing to unlatch the back gate of the wagon. She smoothed out the skirt of her dress, ready to wait patiently, when Winter stood up and suddenly vaulted himself over the edge of the wagon. She stifled her cry of shock—of course, he would do something like this, even though the edge of the huge wagon was about seven feet off the ground—and stood up on slightly-wobbly feet, balancing on ears of corn, to see that he had landed on his feet.

Well, looks like I'm going to have to jump too. She balanced on the ears of corn at the edge of the wagon, staring doubtfully down at the ground. This wasn't going to end well. She could barely walk without tripping over her own two feet, what made her think—

She suddenly noticed that Winter had strolled around to her side of the cart and was holding out his hands. She stared down at him, unsure as to what he wanted her to do. Was she supposed to clasp his hands? She bent down cautiously, reaching out for them, and he grabbed her waist suddenly and pulled her safely down to the ground. Sophie let out an odd whooshing sound before she could stop herself and hurriedly stepped away from him, smoothing her dress down again. "Thanks," she muttered before she could stop herself. Then she frowned. Why was she showing him her manners?

For the same reason she had stitched him up, really. At heart, Sophie was a good, idealistic person.

It was the same reason she'd ruined her own life, really.

The driver of the wagon wandered up, carrying a glass bottle filled with what looked like Coca Cola, and began saying something to them in Spanish. Both Sophie and Winter stared at him, neither of them comprehending what in the world he was saying. "Uh…" Sophie began, unsure as to how to communicate that they were clueless when suddenly someone spoke up near her and she jumped in alarm.

"He's saying that this is as far as he can take you."

Sophie turned to see one of the blonde women from the group up ahead smiling at her. She looked to be in her early thirties, with short blonde hair, dark sunglasses, and sensible, sturdy tourist clothing. She also had, inexplicably, a shiny silver lip piercing. Her accent was American and Sophie hardly trusted herself to speak without throwing herself sobbing at the woman's feet. She was so normal. Sophie felt like it had been years since she'd spoken to someone who spoke her language—literally.

"I…um…thank you," she said, clearing her throat, uncomfortably aware of Winter's dangerous gaze on her. He was watching for any signal. Well, she wasn't going to give one. She didn't want to be responsible for all these deaths. "Can you…can you ask him where we're supposed to go from here? He'll understand— And…and also thank him for us? If you can, please?"

The woman turned and spoke to the driver in easy, assured Spanish. He responded and she turned back to Sophie. "He says you're welcome and that you're supposed to take this bus here—I'm getting on the same one myself," she added, "is the one you need to get to your destination." She looked a bit puzzled then, as if wondering what their destination was.

"Right," Sophie said after a pause. "And—um—what is the destination of this bus?"

"Well, it runs through the border of Peru into parts of Brazil," she said, still looking a bit confused. "It's like—well, you're American, right?"

Sophie could almost feel Winter tense, even though he was a few feet away. Yes. YES, I AM. Please, oh please, somehow recognize me and be smart enough not to give anything away and save me. Please alert someone on your own. Even as she had these wild thoughts, Sophie knew there wasn't much hope. This woman probably hadn't been anywhere near America when—if—Sophie's face had circulated the news and besides, the most recent photo her mother would have had of her…would have been, oh yes, that atrocious photo from three years ago, when she'd just graduated college. She'd had longer hair then, a very weird dyed blonde streak (that had been a mistake) in her side bangs (which no longer existed), and a much healthier-looking face. Even back when she'd been home, she hardly resembled the photo—she couldn't even imagine how different she looked now.

And she didn't want to dwell on how sad it was that the most recent photo her mother would have of her…would have been from three years ago.

"Yes," she said faintly.

"It's kind of like a Greyhound bus," the lady explained. "It's made for travelers. I think it travels up and down a certain path in Peru and Brazil—and maybe some other countries—but right now it's headed to Brazil. It'll stop some places along the way, however."

"How…how long will it take to get to Brazil?" Sophie asked, trying to be sound polite when all she wanted to do was rush at the woman and grab her shoulders, shake her and scream at her. She needed her to recognize her so badly. She needed her to recognize her without Sophie tipping her off, because—

Sophie's gut constricted in shame. Because if the woman figures it out on her own, Winter catches wind of it, and then kills everyone—at least then it won't be my fault.

She was a horrible person.

"Hmmm…" The woman frowned, thinking. "Last I checked…with a few stops along the way… Well, where in Brazil are you guys headed? I think the last stop in Brazil is in the city of Brasilia, which is where my boyfriend and I are headed. That should take about…three to four days, I think. Maybe five." Seeing Sophie's appalled expression, she chuckled and said, "They don't drive as fast as we do in America."

"I'll say," Sophie said faintly.

"So where are you guys headed?" she asked again. Sophie couldn't tell if she was being suspiciously nosy or just normally inquisitive. Had she really forgotten how to interact with normal people over a few days? But then again…Sophie had been avoiding people way before Winter had kidnapped her on Hydra's behalf. This wasn't even his fault; it was her fault. Every time she tried talking normally to people, she couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong. Ihuicatl had been different; there'd been no risk with her because there had been no technology.

"Just roaming." Winter finally spoke, having come up behind Sophie silently. She thanked the heavens that his voice sounded normal: a bit toneless but cordial enough. She glanced back at him. His face was the same: pretty expressionless but casual enough to seem like he was just bored…and not actually empty of emotions.

He probably just seemed like a really quiet boring—or bored—guy.

"Holly!" A man broke off from the group ahead and wandered up behind the blonde woman. He was tall, blond himself, and handsome in a pleasant, genial sort of way. He looked to be in his early thirties as well. He stood behind Holly and gave her a kiss on the cheek, making it clear who he was. "Who are these folks?"

"Rob, meet—oh!" Holly laughed. "I'm so rude, I never actually got your names or told you mine! Well, you already sort of know now…but I'm Holly. And this is my boyfriend, Rob. You?"

Sophie knew Winter wouldn't allow her to give her real name and it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway because the woman clearly didn't recognize her; still, she felt depressed as she said, "Um…Shelly. And this is…" She trailed off. Could she call Winter just a friend? Even among liberal Americans, she knew a lot of people thought a guy and girl being just friends was weird; traveling with just a guy friend would seem even weirder. "My husband," she said, remembering her lie to Ihuicatl's husband. "Will."

"Husband, huh?" Holly grinned. "So where are the rings?"

Oh, shit. Sophie's stomach dropped. She had completely forgotten that married couples usually wore rings. Ihuicatl's husband hadn't noticed but this woman…

"Did I say husband?" she said with a nervous, strained laugh. "I meant…he will be my husband, hopefully!" She hoped she sounded adoring and love struck but had a feeling her voice just sounded shrill. "He's just my boyfriend right now! Waiting for him to pop the question anytime soon!" She winked at Holly and let out a weak chuckle.

Luckily, if Holly and Rob noticed anything wrong with Sophie's behavior, they didn't remark upon it. "Sure," Holly said, grinning. "Rob hasn't proposed yet either." She elbowed Rob in the stomach and he danced out of the way, laughing. "I'm saving up for a ring," he protested. "I spent all my money paying for this trip!"

"Eh, good enough." Holly shrugged. "Listen, I'm not sure when the bus will show. It was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago but like I said, they're not so fussy about time here. You guys want to go grab a drink with Rob and I at this cute little restaurant here?"

Winter suddenly wrapped his arm around Sophie's waist and squeezed her tightly to him, so hard that she had to suppress a gasp. "Sorry," she heard him say tightly. "I need to talk with…my girlfriend really quickly. It's private."

"Oh." Holly looked surprised. "Well…okay! Sure. We'll see you guys on the bus." She grabbed Rob's hand and walked away as Winter dragged Sophie in the opposite direction.

"What was that?" he hissed, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her to face him.

"Careful," Sophie said through gritted teeth, noticing that Holly was shooting them curious looks over her shoulder as she walked away. "People are watching."

He loosened his grip and straightened up slightly. "What are you doing?" he repeatedly tightly, anger snapping in his eyes like electricity. "Who allowed you to start talking to those people?"

"We needed someone to give us information!" she said, stung. "And you're not exactly Mr. Talkative! Besides, I maintained your lies, didn't I?" She shifted uncomfortably. Why did I maintain his lies? she wondered. Is this really all about keeping the people in the village safe?

It had to be, right?

She couldn't think of any other reason she'd be going along, and even sort of helping, with his scheme.

Huh. Her brain felt swirly and confused and she desperately craved a cup of hot tea so she could just sit down and sort it all out in her mind. She couldn't pin down her thoughts or feelings right now. Also, she felt really itchy and hot in this thick sweater. The climate was much hotter down here than in the mountains.

"So can you act normal?" she whispered. "I don't want you to kill everyone here so I am going along with your lies—but it's really hard to make them convincing when you act like a silent freak! I know you're, like, a robot or something but can you at least pretend to be normal? I feel like I'm doing more work than you are to deliver me to Hydra!"

He looked a bit shocked. The expression was strange on him. She didn't know what he was surprised at: her admitting she was helping him for some reason…or her sudden, newfound assertiveness. Or was it aggressiveness? Whatever. Either way, she wasn't acting like her old, shy self.

At least not with him. With normal people like Holly, she turned into a stammering fool again, apparently.

"Okay," he said suddenly, taking a step back from her, surprising her further by his easy agreement.

The man with the wagon full of corn had left by the time that they walked back to the clearing. Sophie blinked, a little thrown off by his abrupt departure, but she supposed she and Winter hadn't been anything sentimental to him. Just a random pair of misfit travelers. Winter clearly did not want to wait among the group of travelers but Sophie walked up to the fringe of the group. She heard him suppress a small sigh and follow her.

Several people glanced at them as they walked up and she noticed their eyes widen as their gazes fell upon Winter. He wasn't that scary-looking, was he? She glanced at him and was almost bowled over in horror when she realized something awful that she'd never considered before: his clothes. He was still wearing all-black combat fatigues. He still wore the baggy black cardigan Ihuicatl had given him, but he hadn't zipped it up for some mad reason and his black combat vest was visible along with his pants and boots. It hadn't mattered so much in the other village, where no one could ask them questions if they wanted to, but there were English-speakers here. What on Earth were they going to say? And he was wearing a black glove over his left hand!

"Army?" a bald man asked, nodding to Winter, who was determinedly staring into the distance and avoiding locking gazes with anyone.

Sophie fell upon the excuse with relief. "Yes," she said quietly. "He…doesn't like to talk about it. But he feels more at home in the clothes. He says it was like he was born to wear them but they're also a curse." Her voice picked up speed as she wove her story. It was coming naturally. She drew upon all the books she'd read in her life for inspiration.

The man nodded respectfully. "I hear you. I've got some buddies in the army. It really changes them."

"It does." Sophie nodded sadly, really getting into the role.

"So…the glove?" the man whispered.

Sophie stared at him. That was a rather rude question, wasn't it? But he didn't give any indication that he was aware he'd asked a nosy question. "Lost it in battle," she whispered back, hoping her tone was reflecting the appropriate heaviness. "He has an…um…prosthetic. So he wears a glove to feel less self-conscious. I wouldn't ask him about it. He has bad PTSD at times."

"Of course," the man said, sounding awed, staring at Winter—who Sophie was absolutely positive could hear them. "Never seen uniforms like his before—but I'm no expert. Well, tell him I thank him for his service to our country. You are American, right?" he asked somewhat aggressively.

"Y-Yes," Sophie stammered.

"Good. There were some hoity-toity Brits in the group somewhere." He glanced around as if they might appear right next to him suddenly and invite him for tea. "Couldn't stand them. You don't sound British but neither did they, actually."

"Okay," she said nervously, edging away from his angry expression. She wondered if he was sort of deranged. "Well…" And she turned away, thankful to be away from his nosy questions. Who on Earth asked about the hand of a man they thought to have fought in the army? How incredibly tactless of him.

I have to keep track of my lies, she realized. My name is Shelly and his name is… Dammit, what was his name again?! Oh yeah: Will. I'm Shelly and he's Will. We're dating and hopelessly in love. She snorted derisively at the thought and saw Winter shoot her an almost curious look. I'm hoping he'll propose to me soon. He was in the army, he has PTSD, and he lost a hand in combat.

That part could have been true, for all Sophie knew. He had lost an arm somehow. She stared at his left arm and wondered yet again how such an amazing, realistic prosthetic could exist.

Then again, how could he exist, with his super reflexes, speed, and strength? By all logic, he should have been impossible. He was actually sort of like Captain America, from what she'd heard of Captain America: super strong, super fast, just all around…super. But whereas Captain America was the day, the Winter Soldier was the night. She wondered who'd win in a fight. She'd never seen Captain America fight in person but she'd seen grainy footage of him fighting in New York City two years ago and it had been amazing. And she'd seen firsthand how powerful Winter was.

The bus finally pulled up. It was as large as Greyhound bus but was painted bright red with green, yellow, and pink toucans painted on it. It was really cool and Sophie wished she had a camera so she could snap a photo of it. She'd never seen a bus this funky looking before. There was a large compartment on one side near the base where people could stow their bags if they wanted. Sophie noticed that the people who looked like native Peruvians were more willing to stow their bags there while the foreign tourist types clutched their bags protectively to their chests, as if some great thief was going to swoop down from the sky and steal their suntan lotion from them.

And where would the thief even go? she wondered, fighting back a laugh.

She and Winter had no real luggage with them so while everyone else was congregating into a messy crowd (lines were not du jour here it seemed) they boarded the bus. Holly and Rob were already sitting near the back and Holly caught sight of Sophie and waved. "Hey, come sit by us!" she called. Sophie hesitated and in that moment, Winter slid into a seat and yanked her in roughly. Clearly he wanted to stay as far away from Holly and Rob as possible.

Holly was not so easily deterred. Sophie felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Holly grinning at her from behind them. "Didn't you hear me?" she asked.

"Oh—no, sorry," Sophie said, hoping her lie wasn't too obvious.

"Come sit with us!" she said, hooking a thumb to the back of the bus.

There was really no polite way to refuse so Sophie pinched Winter's right hand and said, "Um, okay! Sure." She stood up and followed Holly to the back. Holly and Rob were sitting in the last row of seats to the left so Sophie and Winter slid into the seats on the right, right across from them. She could tell Winter wanted to trap her in the window seat but she gave him a surreptitious glare and stomped on his foot as quietly as possible. Holly will think it's weird. She hoped he got the message.

Sophie soon regretted following Holly to the back. The woman was too talkative and inquisitive. She didn't seem to accept Sophie's shyness as an excuse at all. Sophie was torn between wanting to let the woman know who she was—she had no doubt that someone like Holly would take it upon themselves to become a do-gooder and save the poor kidnapped girl—but she also didn't want Winter to go crazy and kill everyone on the bus. They were in such a small, confined space…it would probably be so easy for him. She hadn't forgotten the ruthlessness with which he had dragged her down a flight of stairs. Or torn her shoulder out of alignment. Or thrown her out in front of a bunch of would-be rapists as bait.

God, what a supreme asshole.

Although he had saved her from the would-be rapists and knocked them all out. That part had been good, them learning their lesson. Perhaps they'd think twice before preying on some innocent girl next time.

Holly's endless chatter finally wore down a few hours into the bumpy bus ride and she leaned her head on Rob's chest, who was already asleep, his head lolling against the window. "Aren't you tired?" Holly whispered.

Yes. Of your never-ending talk.

"Yep," Sophie said.

"So go to sleep," Holly urged.

Mind your own business.

"Okay," Sophie said. She folded her arms and slumped down in her seat, trying to get comfortable.

Holly chuckled. "Why aren't you leaning on your boyfriend? Girl, that's what they're for." Sophie blushed—though for not the reasons Holly thought—and Holly smiled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"And how old is he?"

Lady, I have no idea.

"Twenty-nine," Sophie said, hoping the age worked for army requirements. She really had no idea how old you had to be to go into combat.

"Young couples. You guys are always so cute, the way you're shy with each other. Lean on him!" Holly said. She was smiling but her tone was pushy. She was one of those obnoxious people, Sophie realized, who didn't take no for an answer. Sophie hesitated, wondering what to do now. If she refused to lean on Winter, would she look weird? God, why did this woman care anyway? Maybe she didn't want to lean on her boyfriend. Maybe her boyfriend was abusive or maybe he had a phobia of being touched. Why couldn't people mind their own business? Why—

Winter suddenly put his arm around Sophie's shoulders and pulled her down so her head was resting on his shoulder.

Sophie immediately froze and then tried to force herself to relax, hoping Holly hadn't noticed her temporary alarm. Holly smiled a self-satisfied smile. Jesus Christ. Then she closed her eyes, settled back onto Rob's chest, and fell asleep.

"Is she asleep?" Winter murmured in a low voice.

"Yes," Sophie whispered.

He immediately nudged her off of him. Sophie felt something hot and sharp course through her, burning her face and making her heart flutter fast in both anger and embarrassment. It took her a moment to realize she was feeling the sting of rejection. But of course, that was stupid. Why the hell should she feel rejected because he shoved her off of him? She didn't want to sleep on him and he'd only pulled her down to shut that annoying woman up.

She still felt embarrassed and annoyed, for some reason. And she found she couldn't look at Winter.

She folded her arms and stared out of Holly's window at the little scenery she could see that wasn't blocked by Rob's head and shoulders. She could hear faint chatting from other seats but the bus was quiet for the most part, save for the hum and rumble of the bus speeding over rocky, bumpy roads towards Brazil. The vibrating hum of the bus and quiet eventually put Sophie to sleep. She couldn't help it; she'd had a horrible night's sleep the previous night, jostling around in a wagon, sitting on a mountain of corn, and the noises and feel of the bus were too soothing to resist.


He was watching her from the corner of his eye, of course. He hadn't been keeping as close an eye on her the past few days because she'd been right; really, where was she going to run off to? But now there were Americans in the mix and nosy ones at that, so he watched her carefully to make sure she didn't somehow tip the stupid blonde woman off in any way. He wanted to strangle the blonde woman and launch her body over the nearest mountain. Did her incessant speaking never end? Why had she formed such an attachment to the girl? He considered for a moment that the woman was a spy—but no. He knew when something around him was amiss and he could tell: the woman was just a nosy, annoying human being.

The man with her, on the other hand, gave him a strange feeling. He'd done nothing wrong—by all accounts, he was much more normal than his girlfriend. He didn't talk as much and wasn't as prying. However, something about the man rubbed him the wrong way and he resolved to keep an eye on the man as well.

The girl's eyes slid shut and her head drooped forward slightly, chin lolling on her chest. It looked like an uncomfortable pose but he certainly wasn't going to do anything about it. She stayed like that for a few moments and then the bus passed through a sharp bend in the road and the girl fell against him, slumping against his cybernetic arm.

He froze. Waited, hoping she would wake up on her own and move away. But she didn't. So he gently pushed her upright, hoping to move her into a different position. She stayed up for a few seconds and then fell against him again, her dark head leaning against his shoulder. He noticed the shadows under her eyes and sighed. It wouldn't do to kill her from exhaustion before they arrived—and they were so close now. He was so close to finishing this on his own. There was a reason he hadn't contacted Hydra by now, though he possibly could have done so (stolen a phone or something) and had them airlifted out of here. Now it was almost like a challenge; he'd never had to call in for help on a mission before, he didn't think, and he didn't plan on starting now. He would deliver the girl and he would do it on his own through his own skill and determination.

He shifted slightly so that he was leaning against the wall and lifted his arm, pulling the girl up so her head rested somewhat on his chest, under his arm, and then he put his arm back down, draped over her shoulders.

Something—

Hmmm. Something had just… He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the dull ache of the mountain lion's slashes across his whole chest. He'd just had…a strange image in his head. Sitting on some grass under the shade of a tree, a blonde woman with curly hair resting her head against his chest, his arm around her, both of them talking. He could almost feel the corners of his mouth turn up in a faint memory smile and it shook him, bewildered him. Why did the image feel so real, as if he'd done it? He couldn't have done it. For one thing, his arm had been…flesh. For another—

He'd never done that. Had he?

Had he?

He sat stone still, frantically trying to untangle the image in his mind, but it was already mixing up with all the other chaotic images in his minds—blood, a gun, a frosty glass pane, a blond boy, blood, a body slumping over on a bed, a dark stain spreading across the floor, an ice cream cone in his hand, a shield with a star, needles in his arms, blood… The harder he thought about, the more mixed-up he felt. He felt like he was on the brink of something—all he had to do was reach out and grab it—

But what did it mean? How could it be real? How could he rationalize it?

It didn't make sense.

None of this made sense.