A/N: So you guys are probably all like, "Girl, where WERE you?!" and I'm just gonna be all "You guys, this totally wasn't my fault!" I have a great excuse for why I've been so AWOL: my computer shorted out on me and I didn't have any of my files downloaded to a USB (lesson majorly learned). This has been going on for months and it's been frustrating as hell. Also, I did spend a whole month mourning (and shedding some tears) because I thought all my work was lost forever. Luckily, I've managed to salvage most of my files. I am now slowly copying and pasting all of my files and re-saving them (to a USB this time as well!) but it's taking time because in the process of copying and pasting, their format is getting all messed up. If you read my other stories, updates will be coming to those as well as soon as I can find their files and fix their formatting. Thank you for your guys' patience and I hope you like the chapter! Let me know what you think of it.
Sophie knew the end was near. Oh, it sounded incredibly melodramatic when she said it that way—but she knew all the same. Every time the bus stopped in a town or city, one of the bus drivers would announce it a few hours in advance. This time the bus was stopping in the Brazilian city of Goiânia. Winter had looked over at her and nodded tersely and she'd known: this was where Hydra was waiting for them.
We're almost there. Her fingers curled in nervous anticipation. She'd avoided giving much thought to what would happen to her when she got there because it had always felt like a distant dream. It would happen later...tomorrow...some other day...some other stop...
Not anymore. The next stop was theirs. There was no more later. No more tomorrow.
And then we'll really see…if Hydra wants me for the reason I think they do. If they did…what would she do? Would she refuse to help them? They would undoubtedly threaten her and her parents as well. However…how far would she go to save herself and her parents? She'd done her best to keep her parents—and random innocents—safe up until now, but were her parents really worth the entire world? Because Sophie knew she had the power to destroy the world, if she was used in the right (or wrong, as it were) ways.
She stared out the window, seeing but not really seeing the scenery, her mind full of scenarios, and she made up her mind right then and there, when it was easy to make up, when there was no overt threat: she would refuse. She would fight back. She would hold out for as long as was humanly possible for her.
Sophie Duran hadn't showered in days. She was wearing ripped-up Converse sneakers, dirty tights, a limp-looking red dress, and a thick black sweater. She looked pale, thin, and her hair was longer and stringier. She was covered in fading bruises and had been attacked several times by different people. She looked like a total mess. Nothing like the girl she'd been in Washington, D.C.: quiet but neat, clean, healthy-looking. And yet she felt calmer than she ever had before in her life. She felt braver than she ever had before in her life.
Sometimes she wondered if this entire ordeal hadn't been a much-needed blessing in disguise. Which was better: a comfortable, safe life filled with emptiness, loneliness, and cowardice…or a dangerous, risky life filled with newfound strength? She wasn't sure she could accurately choose yet, not having introduced herself to Hydra—but she had a strong suspicion she was leaning toward the latter. As crazy as it sounded.
A few hours later, the bus stopped in Goiânia. The city was nothing like the towns and villages they'd passed through before. Brazil had been urban ever since the early hours of this morning but Sophie was surprised by just how dazzled she was by the shining, silver city. It was really no different from New York City or Chicago—indeed, it was actually much smaller-looking—but she felt like she'd almost forgotten what an urban landscape looked, and felt, like.
She and Winter slowly climbed off the bus for the very last time. Sophie stood on the sidewalk, waiting for it to drive away, hoping to watch it recede into the distance and receive some closure in her heart—but then she realized that the bus driver would be taking a break, as usual, and the bus wouldn't be leaving for an hour or two.
Oh. Oops. There went her sentimentality.
"Let's go," Winter said. He grabbed her arm but it didn't have the usual viciousness to it. He seemed rather exhausted by now too, dark shadows under his eyes and a weary air about him. He would probably be so thankful to have this mission come to an end. They began walking down the tree-lined street. Sophie looked around at her surroundings. They weren't in the heart of the city but rather, at the outskirts. She could see taller buildings and skyscrapers rising in the distance, a few blocks away.
"It's really green here," she remarked, looking at the lush trees and bushes that dotted the entire landscape.
"Mmm," he mumbled, looking around, clearly not paying attention.
Sophie cleared her throat. "And I tipped someone off that I've been kidnapped. He's calling the police right now. You can't kill an entire city, right?"
"Right," he muttered, now frowning and squinting at the skyscrapers in the distance. He seemed to be gathering his bearings.
"Also, I'm pregnant," she told him. "With your child."
Now he looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," she said innocently.
"Then shut the hell up." He resumed walking and scanning the horizon, as if he expected a spaceship to descend to Earth and pick them up. Perhaps that was what was going to happen. Sophie wouldn't even be surprised at this point.
They reached a crosswalk and he stared at the name of the street for a very long time, standing as still as stone. People walking around them gave them looks as they passed by, clearly irritated by the idiots who'd decided to stand in the middle of the sidewalk. Some people gave them nasty looks, others curious, and some simply rolled their eyes and mumbled, "Turistas," before continuing on.
Sophie supposed they did look pretty weird. She was a white girl who looked like a hobo, dressed in traditional Peruvian mountain clothes. He was a white guy who looked like a hobo, dressed in all black with combat boots, a military-looking vest, a baggy black sweater, and black gloves. Both of them looked vaguely insane. They didn't fit in with the bright tourists or the polished, urban Brazilians stepping around them.
"This way," he finally said, heading right. She followed him then through a maze of streets, turning this way and that, passing by lush gardens, businesses, and even some houses. They got farther and farther away from the hustle and bustle of the main city and soon ended up on a lone paved road—no sidewalks—that seemed to lead out into plain fields and forest, palm trees springing up every which way. They'd been walking for two hours now and her legs ached like hell but she wasn't going to complain.
Much.
"When are we going to get there?" she huffed. "Where are we going? Goiânia is in the other direction—did you bring me all the way here just to take me out to the wilderness?"
He wordlessly pointed ahead of them. She squinted and made out the shape of a building in the distance. "Oh." As they got closer, the building seemed to get bigger and bigger. It was about four stories high, rectangular, gray, and very large. It looked like a really depressing IKEA to Sophie, very businesslike but minus all the glossy, fancy facets of a business. She didn't think there'd be polished floors and glass walls inside.
It looked like…a prison.
With that chilling thought, she followed him for another fifteen minutes until they approached an enormous ten-foot tall, forbidding gate. It was connected to a watchtower and a fence that ran along the entire perimeter of the building. A sign indicated that the fence was electrical. Sophie could hear a low, powerful hum coming from and her mind suddenly remembered the scene from Jurassic Park where the stupid little boy had been electrocuted by the fence. She had a feeling this fence would do far worse if she touched it.
They stood there and stared up at the watchtower. Winter pulled out a pistol, aimed, and before Sophie could demand to know what he was doing, shot at the watchtower. She squinted up at it but didn't see anything that indicated the watchtower had been hit. He'd missed on purpose—she knew he was a better shot than that.
A window slammed open in the watchtower and someone leaned out, pointing a huge gun at them and screaming, "WHO'S THERE?"
"The Winter Soldier," Winter replied coldly, "with the target ordered by the Director."
"What?" the man shouted. "The Winter Soldier? No way, the Soldier's been AWOL for days."
Winter slowly pulled off his black sweater and then ripped his gloves off, throwing them aside. He flexed his metal arm, flashing it up at the man, who was squinting at him, and icily said, "Is this enough proof? Let us in or I'll shoot you and let us in."
The man's mouth fell open and Sophie saw him pale even from here. "Holy sh— It really is you. They all thought you'd… Anyway. I'll radio it in." His voice had become respectful and somewhat scared now, as if he couldn't believe who he was meeting. Well, if he was just a watchtower guard, he was probably a low-level person anyway, Sophie figured. "Go on in. They'll be expecting you now."
The gate buzzed and slowly slid open. Winter roughly grabbed Sophie, startling her—he hadn't played this rough in a while—and began marching her up the long drive. She squirmed in his grasp, saying, "I can walk myself," but he ignored her and dragged her along with him. She didn't know what had caused such a change in him but his expression and demeanor were frightening: both of them resembled that empty, icy indifference he'd shown in the first days after taking her.
What was happening to him?
As they neared the building, a platoon of soldiers—or agents, whatever they were—dressed all in black came jogging around the corner, all of them pointing enormous weapons at the pair of them. "Freeze!" one of them barked and Winter halted, jerking Sophie to a rough stop. The group approached them cautiously, weapons still held at the ready. The man who'd spoken was tanned, bald, and very muscular. He looked sort of like the Rock, in Sophie's opinion, but much less friendly.
"Where have been, Soldier?" the man said sharply.
"There were complications," Winter said flatly, looking bored. "The pilot was a traitor. We crashed in the Andes mountains. I've been making my way here for days."
"Why didn't you call it in?" Baldy asked suspiciously.
"I finish my missions on my own," Winter said, a hard set to his mouth.
"You could have called it in," Baldy growled.
"I finish my missions on my own," Winter repeated.
Baldy rolled his eyes. "Just as dumb as ever. Which is just as well—can't have the lapdog getting ideas, now can we, boys?" The men behind him let out short chuckles.
He's not dumb, Sophie thought indignantly—before she realized she was being indignant on the Winter Soldier's behalf. Huh.
"Anyway…good job, then," Baldy said. "The Director will be pleased—we thought you'd both died. So this is the target?" He walked up to Sophie and she trembled slightly as he invaded her personal space and stood way too close to her. He was so much bigger than her. He flicked Sophie's chin and she winced. She felt Winter's grip on her suddenly squeeze tight and then relax just as quickly, as if he'd had a hand spasm. She glanced at him and noticed his frown was a little more pronounced.
"This is the target the Director wanted so badly?" Baldy asked incredulously. "This tiny girl? What the hell can she do?"
"I don't ask the questions, I just finish the mission," Winter said coldly.
Baldy stared at him for a moment—then shrugged and stepped away. "You're right. It's the Director's business. Let's go."
The men had lowered their weapons by now and followed Winter and Sophie into the building, Baldy leading the way. As she'd predicted, the inside of the building was as gray and depressing as the outside. White linoleum floors, gray walls, fluorescent lights that washed her skin out and made her look even more ill than she already looked. Winter had let go of Sophie's arm by now. They walked side-by-side behind Baldy as he led them to an elevator.
"You can follow in the next car," Baldy instructed the group behind them. The doors slide open and he, Winter, and Sophie stepped inside. The doors shut and Baldy pressed the button for the fourth floor.
They rode in silence for a moment and then Baldy casually said, "Kind of cute, isn't she? In a skinny sort of way," to Winter. Sophie's mouth flattened and she stared angrily at her feet, not daring to speak up. The man was pretending to be a comrade to Winter but she saw through him. His tone was mocking, his smile reflected in the doors cruel. He was taunting Winter. Winter stood with his arms folded and stared at the elevator doors, giving no indication he'd heard him.
"But then, you don't care about those things, do you?" Baldy asked, chuckling. "Not a real man. Just a…dog."
Sophie didn't understand why he was antagonizing a man who was clearly much stronger than him—but then she realized that Baldy didn't expect Winter to retaliate against him. Because he was their…asset. And he always did what he was told. They really did treat him like a dog and he, for some reason, took it. Her mouth filled with a sour taste that had nothing to do with the fact that she hadn't really brushed her teeth in a while.
Baldy led them down a hall to a pair of double-doors at the very end. He knocked once and then opened the door, telling Sophie, "Go inside. The Director is waiting."
"Where are you guys going?" she asked.
He gave her a strange look, as if he didn't understand why she was asking questions. "We'll be standing right outside. Now go." He roughly nudged her inside and Sophie resisted the urge to slam the door shut on his hands. He closed the door shut behind her and she looked up to see a silver-haired, older man in an impeccable suit sitting neatly behind a polished wooden desk. She slowly walked forward, looking around the room. It was just as dully colored as the rest of the building but there were touches of sleekness: the polished desk, a few tasteful-looking paintings of seascapes hanging in silver frames, a black leather sofa in one corner. One green plant in another corner.
"Miss Duran." The man stood up as she slowly approached the desk and held out his hand for her to shake it. She simply looked at it and then looked at him. She wasn't going to play these games. He kept it up for a moment and then lowered it, his expression remaining calm. "I admit, I'm very surprised to see you turn up here. I'd lost hope that you'd survived the trip. We lost contact with the plane halfway through the flight and thought all of you had gone down."
He waited for Sophie to say something and she simply kept looking at him. She felt like Winter, taking in everything and giving up nothing. "Why don't you take a seat," he suggested, "and I'll explain everything."
She sat down in the leather armchair across from his desk and he sat as well. He clasped his hands on his desk and said, "First, I must ask: how was your journey here with the Soldier? I never intended for it to be so difficult for you, believe me."
Sophie stared incredulously at him. He'd never intended for it to be difficult? Then who had authorized Winter to use so much excessive force against her? Her journey had been full of nothing but difficulties. And yet...along with the difficulties…there had been other things. Staying with Ihuicatl. Getting saved from Rob's assault by Winter. Hiding out with him in the luggage compartment for almost a full day. Him buying her food and her questioning him. These things weren't all necessarily happy things—but they feel significant and private in some way. She knew instinctively that she would never tell this man anything about her journey, even if she didn't owe Winter anything. She wasn't exactly doing it for him; she was doing for it herself.
"The Winter Soldier is very…efficient," she said flatly by way of response. The man waited a moment for her to add something else but when it was clear that she wasn't going to speak again, he slowly spoke: "Well, where to begin? I suppose I'll introduce myself. My name is Alexander Pierce. I am the Director of Hydra. Do you know what Hydra is, Miss Duran?"
"Yes," she said shortly. This was a lie but she didn't want to appear uninformed to him.
"I doubt you do," he said. "Most people are under the misapprehension that Hydra is a neo-Nazi organization. We are not a neo-Nazi organization, Miss Duran. I assume you saw an equal number of people of color working alongside white people when you came in? Here at Hydra, we're not concerned with foolish race wars. We're concerned with making the world a better place."
He paused as if waiting for Sophie to respond but she was silent. She'd been waiting for this: the evil speech. Every book that had a villain had one. She'd read enough books to recognize bits and pieces from stupid clichés and tropes. Alexander Pierce thought he was being original but he wasn't, not one bit. And if he had to start his speech by explaining that they weren't neo-Nazis, then she had a funny feeling that neo-Nazis was exactly what they were.
"We want to make the world a safer place," he said, "and sometimes when you want to do the right thing, you have to take drastic measures. Do things other people wouldn't."
"Like Hitler," Sophie said flatly.
"Ah, but no," Pierce said slowly. "Hitler's goals were not the 'right thing.' He essentially wished to exterminate large groups of people based on attributes that were not harmful. However, our goals are world safety. Security. Peace. Do you think those are not the right things?"
Sophie didn't say anything. She was heavily resisting rolling her eyes. Here was the part of the evil speech where the evil bad guy tried to politely convince the good guy that the bad guys were doing the right thing, the good thing—and naturally, they'd have to hurt lots of people to achieve these goals. "The safety of many is worth the lives of a few." She bet herself a million dollars that he was going to say this at least once. Well, she wasn't going to fall for any of it. No one who treated a human the way they'd treated Winter was good, no matter what their goals were.
"We've been monitoring you for some time," he said abruptly. "We like to do that; monitor people who seem to have special…or extra…talents. Truthfully, it's your father's fault. He's been under watch for quite a while now. He's enjoyed dabbling in some…unusual things in the past." He gave Sophie a bland smile. "I'm sure you have an inkling as to what I mean."
Sophie felt a chill steal over her body. The computer with the strange symbols that had started this whole mess. She'd always been too afraid to think about why her father had had that in his possession...
"But despite your father's curiosities, he remains largely useless. You, on the other hand, are not. I admit, we're not sure the full extents of your capabilities—but we're fairly certain that you can help us achieve great things. Who needs hackers when they've got the great Sophie Duran by their side? You can be a key component to bringing everlasting peace and security to the world. I know your life was unfulfilling before: you didn't have friends. People turned on you at college, didn't they? For things that weren't even your fault. And your parents kept you isolated growing up. You've had a rough, boring go of it. Why not try something new with your time? Why not do something worthwhile?"
And now he's trying to appeal to me by attempting to "connect" with me. He really was delusional, Sophie realized. He actually believed the garbage he was spouting.
"And what would I be doing to help?" she asked carefully.
Pierce smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm glad you asked. Nothing too taxing—just working with us when we need information from computers, breaking codes, gathering intelligence. That sort of thing. Far more exciting than just reading books and baking, I assure you."
He really did know all about her. Sophie waited for the unease to come but she found she merely felt numb. Hadn't she spent her whole life looking over her shoulder, afraid that someone was watching and waiting? She'd half-expected this to happen her whole life. "Fascinating," she said flatly.
Pierce studied her carefully with pale, colorless eyes and then suddenly smiled again. "Oh, but you don't need to worry, Miss Duran. We'll make it your worth your time and effort. Rest assured, you won't be treated as an agent. You'll get a room filled with luxuries. You like books? You can get any book you want. You like movies, games, clothes, makeup, baking? We can get you anything you like—for the rest of your life. You can live in luxury. You can enjoy yourself. Live in peace, enjoy your luxuries, not have to work menial jobs for little pay. And you'll get to travel. Our work will undoubtedly take you to different places around the world occasionally—you'll get to see everything. You'll always be safe because you'll always have people protecting you. You may feel lonely now and then, of course, but I daresay you're used to the solitude—and there are several Hydra members who would easily enjoy becoming friends with you. Your family will be safe. And, most importantly, we have a great dental program here." He chuckled at his weak joke.
Translation: you'll be kept as a prisoner, surrounded by guards all the time. You'll never be able to leave. Your only "friends" will be the people who are hired to keep tabs on you. I'll bribe you with books and material things to make you think you're living it up. We won't kill your parents as a courtesy. But you'll have to do our dirty work—hack into important places, steal dangerous information and secrets. Yay! Doesn't this sound amazing?
Sophie suddenly noticed something. "You keep saying 'you will.' You have no intention of letting me say no, do you?"
Pierce paused and glanced down at his fingertips. Then he raised his eyes and met hers. "Unfortunately…no, I don't. I loathe to put it to such terms because I sincerely hope you'll agree of your own free will. It's the same sort of life you've been living for years—secluded and solitary…except we're offering adventure, a chance to do some good in the world, and whatever material goods your heart desires. I'm hoping you'll see what a good opportunity this is for you to finally make something of your potential and agree on your own."
"And if I disagree?" she asked shrewdly.
His pale eyes seemed to tighten slightly. "Then things will be a bit…unpleasant for you. We'll still require you to help us with your talents—but you'll be locked up with no privileges at all. I assure you, this is not the choice you want to make."
Sophie's mind was racing with all this information that had been dumped on her but she needed time to digest it all. "Can I at least have a night to think it over?"
"Absolutely," Pierce said. "In fact, why not spend the night in the very same room we'd prepared for you? This way you'll get a taste of the kind of life you could be living if you say yes. Perhaps it will assist you in reaching the right choice."
"Okay," she said. "And…what happens to the Winter Soldier now?"
Pierce looked a bit surprised by her question. "Don't worry yourself about him. He's none of your concern. He'll be staying out of your way now that he's successfully delivered you."
"He is my concern," she snapped, trying to make her voice sound convincing and authoritative. "He—he's a menace! I want to know what he's doing right now and—and tomorrow—and whenever! He's dangerous and I want to keep tabs on him so I can…" She swallowed. "So I can stay away from him."
"I assure you, Miss Duran, the Soldier is not—"
"I'm informed about what's happening to him and where he is, or no deal at all," she said firmly. "I have the right to know, considering he dragged me to a different continent."
Pierce studied her with a sharp, thoughtful gaze and then he nodded slowly and said, "If those are your terms—then you'll be made aware. As for today and tonight…he'll go through standard post-op protocol."
"Which is…?"
"He'll be physically examined and tested, he'll receive the proper nutrients and medications to return him to peak function, and then he'll go to sleep and have his sleep monitored to make sure he's in well-functioning status."
Sophie had a very hard time not reacting to Pierce's words. The way he was talking about Winter…it was as if Winter were a very unruly dog, or perhaps a science test subject, or just some sort of…object to be poked and prodded at—but not a real, sentient human being who deserved to be treated like a person. Sophie still didn't know what had been done to him to make him the way he was—did he have amnesia? Had he been tortured? Kidnapped as a child and subsequently brainwashed? Had a lobotomy done?—but she felt like she was getting closer to unlocking the mystery of who he was and why he was the way he was.
"Alright," she said briskly, trying to sound cool and detached. "Then I'll…consider your proposal."
"Excellent." Pierce led her to the door and opened it. Baldy was standing outside, arms folded, staring at the opposite wall with an impassive expression. Winter was nowhere to be seen.
"Sir." Baldy snapped to attention when Pierce opened the door.
"Calvo, please escort Miss Duran to the room we had prepared for her," Pierce said.
"Yes, sir. This way, miss." Calvo had adopted a faux-respectful tone for Sophie in Pierce's presence but she knew better. She followed Calvo down the hall but before she could go, Pierce called quietly after her. She turned and he fixed her with a cold smile. "Think this over very well, Miss Duran. Make the right decision—for yourself and for the world." He stepped back into his office and closed the door.
"Follow me," Calvo ordered. He led her through a maze of hallways, thankfully not speaking much. She didn't see many people in the halls but the few men clad in all-black that they did pass gave Sophie invasive once-overs. She was almost startled by how obvious their stares were and folded her arms around herself. It was strange how she felt more violated by these stares than she had any of the times she'd had to press herself close to Winter. Perhaps because she'd never even sensed a hint of desire or improper intention in Winter's being.
Calvo noticed the stares and her reaction to it and he chuckled. "It's because you're a girl."
"Yeah, I got that," Sophie mumbled.
"Hydra has female members, of course, but not so many on this base," he explained, as if Sophie cared about why these men were staring creepily at her. "So you're a sight for sore eyes, for some of these men."
Gross. She recoiled inwardly at the thought.
He led her to a door set at the end of a private hall that had no other doors and bowed sarcastically. She wrenched the door open and flounced in, slamming it on his face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cowed. She locked the door behind her and immediately looked up at the ceiling, and—oh yes. There it was. A small black camera with a red light in a corner. She knew they wouldn't have really given her a private space. Still, she was fine. All her plotting and planning was going to happen in her mind and they couldn't get in there.
Suddenly she thought about Winter with a chill. Unless they can…?
Shaking the dark thoughts off, she set about exploring the place. It was a large room that doubled as a small apartment because it had a tiny kitchenette and a full bathroom. Cream carpeting, neutral walls, white drapes, and a white bedspread gave the room a clean, comfortable look. One entire wall was lined with bookcases, all filled with books. She walked over to examine the titles and felt her knees weaken slightly. They'd really done their research on her. They'd gotten not only her favorites but all of the books she'd ever bought or gotten from the library in the past few years—and that was a lot of books. She knew Hydra was evil and that she should definitely not trust them but the presence of so many books was making her want to cry in relief. She'd missed these old friends.
But first, she needed to explore everything else.
A quick look around the room and through all drawers revealed that they'd stocked the place with the snacks and tea she liked, magazines, clothing that all seemed her proper size and favored styles (cute but simple and comfortable; Sophie wasn't one for fussy, tight, or lacy clothes), and makeup products. However, she noticed that there were no candles, no pencils or pens, no nail cutters, no rope—nothing she could use to hurt herself. Not that she intended to. She hadn't come all this way just to give up on herself now. It was almost shocking to remember that she'd actually considered death to be an option when she'd first been kidnapped.
She took a shower in the bathroom, scrubbing herself raw, and nearly wept when she brushed her teeth so hard that she was spitting blood for a minute straight. She'd forgotten what it felt to be truly, properly clean. Soap, shampoo, lotion—all of these little luxuries she hadn't had in ages. There were even some perfumes which she used immediately, having missed smelling nice. She changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and then wandered over to the bookcases, pulling a brush through her wet hair.
There were plenty she wanted to read but she picked up the fourth Harry Potter book and sunk onto the bed to read. Harry Potter was always there to welcome her like a familiar old friend, no matter how rough times got. J.K. Rowling hadn't failed her yet. Sophie had gotten thirteen chapters in before she suddenly realized that she hadn't really taken in a single thing she'd read.
Her mind couldn't focus.
It was unbelievable. Harry Potter had consoled her even in the dark days after everyone at the first college had turned against her and driven her out. But he wasn't helping her now. She felt irritated and slightly panicked, as if book magic had died for her. What was happening? She put the book back and pulled out Pride and Prejudice. This would surely do it. She'd read this so many times that she felt like she could recite the entire book.
But the same thing happened. Her mind wouldn't settle. She couldn't let herself get sucked into Mrs. Bennett's ridiculous antics because…
What is happening to Winter?
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
The rational part of her mind tried to tell her how stupid this was. Why are you worrying about him? Be realistic, please. He kidnapped you, he hit you (multiple times), he's been unkind and cruel to you. He works for what is clearly a delusional, evil organization. You don't know for sure that he has some sympathetic back story. For all you know, he chose to sign up for Hydra. Maybe he chose to have a lobotomy or something done to become a more efficient soldier or agent or assassin—whichever he is. And despite everything, he still brought you here, so clearly he's not looking out for you. Why should you waste your time thinking about him? Or worrying about him at all? He doesn't deserve it!
But a different part of her mind—the more emotional, nurturing, sensitive part, the part that hated hurting others—thought differently. All that is true—but face the facts, darling. You don't want to admit it because he's hurt you a lot but if you look at him with an unbiased perspective, it's very clear that something very wrong has been done to him. He seems like he's been brainwashed or is being controlled by something—or someone. Can you really blame him for the things he did to you if he didn't actually choose to do them? The way he talks about following orders as if that's all he knows… And I know you've always said that there are no excuses for adults who do bad things because they were "brainwashed" because they've gotten the chance to socialize in the normal world and learn right from wrong—but look at him. Does he really seem like he's had the chance to socialize in the normal world? The guy doesn't even think he has a name, for God's sake. And they talk about him here like he's their animal or fetch-dog; clearly he spends all of his free time being poked and prodded here. He's trapped, like you.
Sophie's mind was spinning. She didn't know how to feel about him. She knew she felt worry about him—for him—coursing through her like an undercurrent…but she also still remembered the terror and pain she'd felt when he'd attacked her several times. All the times he'd made her wish she'd rather be dead. What if she was wrong about his situation and he didn't deserve her sympathy?
But what if he did—and she didn't do anything about it? Could she live with herself if she found out, someday, that he'd been wronged beyond belief…and she'd let her personal experiences stop her from helping him?
If someone held a gun to her head and told her to hurt someone, would she do it? She didn't know. But what if they held a gun to her mother's head? She knew that she would. Would that make her a bad guy? Would she be responsible for her own actions? Or would she be pardoned because she'd been forced into hurting someone?
What if someone put a gun in her hand and forcibly pulled the trigger for her?
Was someone holding a metaphorical gun to Winter's head? Was someone else pulling the trigger for him, pulling the strings to make him move like their puppet?
How would you feel about him if you read about him in a book, Sophie? She thought for a moment and realized that she would definitely suspect something else to be going on with him—and would cheer on the protagonist for deciding to set aside their own experiences to get to the bottom of his mystery.
But even if she wanted to do that, how could she? She was trapped here. She didn't have any fighting skills. Her only skills were—
A sudden idea hit her. Her hands began trembling at the boldness of it so she got up and began to scrub Ihuicatl's clothes in the bathroom sink to give her hands something to do. Yes…this plan could work if what she'd guessed about Pierce's personality was correct. He really wanted her to agree peacefully to help him. He seemed like the kind of man who wished to avoid a dramatic fuss when he could. So…hopefully he would react the right way when Sophie set her plan in motion.
And hopefully she'd be able to help Winter, as well as finding out what they'd done to him—and who he really was.
Feeling much better that she had a plan now, she managed to actually read some of Pride and Prejudice before sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep on the fluffy bed.
She slept in the next morning. The bed was just so comfortable that she couldn't bring herself to wake up. When her eyes opened, the clock next to her bed showed her that it was ten a.m. She got up, showered and washed up, and then put on Ihuicatl's clothes. They were slightly damp but they smelled like clean soap and they felt fresh, so she didn't even care. She wanted to look like herself when she made a stand.
Wow. Imagine that. Me, Sophie Duran, making a stand! She couldn't help but smile at her reflection as she brushed her hair up into a tight pony.
She ate a banana from a bowl of fruit on her nightstand, made her bed, and then sat and waited. She knew the camera could see her every move and expected they'd show up soon, once they realized she was ready for them. She was right; twenty minutes after she'd sat down, there was a slight knock at her door.
She threw it open, expecting Calvo or some other agent—and was surprised to see Alexander Pierce himself. "Oh," she said in surprise.
He gave another small smile that didn't reach his eyes at all. "I've decided to escort you to my office myself, Miss Duran. I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you," she said politely.
He looked at her clothes and then said, "The clothes in the closet are yours for the wearing. I hope you're aware of that."
"I know," she said, choosing not to elaborate any further.
Apparently Pierce didn't really care what she wore because he nodded once, his expression emotionless, and then gestured with his arm for her to step out. "After you."
She stepped out and he began leading her through the halls back to his office. He glanced at her once and said, "Have you come to a decision, Miss Duran?"
She smiled beatifically. "Yes."
Apparently the expression on her face was pleasing to him because he seemed slightly more relaxed as he led the way after that, a small smile playing on his lined face. He thinks he's got me, Sophie thought grimly. And all because of a few books! Thought admittedly, the books had been nice. I'll show him.
She'd planned on privately letting him down in his office but as most things in Sophie's life, things did not go as exactly planned. The whole thing ended up being rather a dramatic showdown. They'd turned a corner and suddenly there was Winter. Sophie's eyes locked on him immediately. He was staring straight ahead, face pale, shadows under his eyes, and was being almost frog-marched down the hall, arms pinned to his sides by two burly men. Sophie tried to lock eyes with him as they came nearer and nearer but there was a blank, almost dazed look in his eyes that frightened her.
"Where are they taking him?" she asked Pierce quickly.
"Don't worry yourself about him," Pierce said casually.
"I told you, he's part of my deal," Sophie said, trying her hardest not to snap and let her worry show. "I want to be informed on him, given that he put me through so much hell. It's the least you can do to reward me for how roughly he treated me. He didn't give me any privacy, so I'm not going to give him any."
Pierce glanced at her as if he didn't quite understand why she felt so fiercely about this, but then he calmly said, "If you insist upon knowing…he's going back to cryostasis."
"What's that?" Sophie asked blankly.
"It's a form of science that allows us to preserve people," Pierce explained. "It's mostly based on using extreme hypothermic temperatures—along with other things, though you'll have to forgive me, because I'm no scientist—to help us preserve biological tissue. It's how we've kept the Soldier so young throughout the decades."
"WHAT?!" Sophie shouted, stopping dead in the middle of the hall. "YOU'RE GOING TO FREEZE HIM?!" Everyone seemed to come to a halt. Sophie felt rooted to the spot, her heart hammering. Pierce turned slowly on the spot, a few paces ahead of her, to stare at her. Even the men who had Winter pinned between them stopped and stared. They'd already passed Sophie so now they were behind her. She glanced behind her and saw Winter staring at her with a bewildered expression, as if he didn't understand what the hell she was doing. His innocent expression only solidified the anger in her throat.
"Miss Duran, I assure you, it's quite safe," Pierce said slowly, watching her face very carefully as if he wasn't sure where her shock was stemming from—a place of anger? Or a place of glee? "However, if you want him punished, then I also assure you that the process is not comfortable to undergo—or so my scientists tell me." He gave a false laugh and Sophie wanted to punch him in the throat.
If she knew how to punch, that was.
"You're insane!" she shouted. Her heart was racing and seemed to thump along to the beat of the words "show time." Show-time. Show-time. Show-time. Oh yes, it was definitely show time. She hadn't planned it this way but then again, she hadn't anticipated that Winter was going to be frozen like some sort of human popsicle. "What is wrong with you sickos?" she demanded, her stomach churning. "You even freeze people! You're disgusting! And did you say decades? How freaking long has he been going through this? What, do you just unfreeze him for a mission and then stuff him back in a freezer, like he's a leftover casserole?!"
Pierce's face had turned glacial, frozen with controlled fury. "I see," he said very calmly. "It appears you've mislead me. You care for the Soldier."
Sophie took a deep breath but didn't respond.
"Are you under the misapprehension that he cares for you as well? Because he does not, Miss Duran." Pierce took a step closer to her and she held her ground, holding herself up as high as she could. "Do you think it possible that he cares about what happens to you? That he has any sort of feelings for you—or feelings at all? You're wrong on all accounts. You've chosen a poor object to direct your sympathies at. I can see you're a feeling person and I commend you for this; you'll do good work with Hydra because you'll know you're saving so many people. But the Winter Soldier is none of your concern. He does not feel. He does not think beyond what we tell him. He does not have any friends or loved ones. He is alone."
"No, he's not," Sophie said, her voice shaking with anger and disgust and fear. "You're the one that's wrong on all accounts. He does feel things. He does think. And he—he—" She faltered.
Pierce caught a hold of it at once. "He has you as a friend? If so, why won't you say it out loud, in front of him? Because you know it is not true," he hissed.
"It is true!" she shouted, making up her mind. She sincerely hoped she wouldn't live to regret saying this. "I am his friend and you know what? He's the only person I trust around here. You asked me if I made a decision last night? Well, I did, and here it is: I will never work with you. I will never willingly help you. I will never use my skills for you. The only person I'd help here is Wi—the Winter Soldier. He's the only person. As for the rest of you—I'd—I'd rather die than help you!" she spat. "You can do whatever you want—torture me, hurt me, threaten me—but I AM NEVER HELPING HYDRA!"
A ringing silence met her words. She realized there were other people at the end of the hallway who were also watching the show and she knew news of it would travel quickly. Pierce's entire being was still with awful coldness and she could tell he was furious by her dramatic outburst. She had embarrassed him in front of his own people and she could tell he did not take that lightly.
"Fine," he said finally, speaking quietly, his expression icier than it ever had been before. "I have tried to be civil—to offer you a good life here—but if you insist on things being this way…then so be it. Things will be difficult. You will help Hydra but the path will be extremely painful. Throw her in the last cell," he ordered the men who were holding Winter and still staring at Sophie. "And throw the Soldier in with her."
"What?" Sophie said, startled.
Pierce came close to her, looking livid and breathing very slowly through his nose. "You think the Soldier considers you a friend? I'm going to show you just how foolish you've been—and on what kind of monster you've thrown away your chance at a good life here. Soldier," he barked, his gaze locking on Winter behind her. "I will give you one week in the cell with her. By the end of the week, I want her full agreement to help Hydra in any way possible. Torture her, rape her, I don't care what you have to do. Do whatever needs to be done and if it's violent, all the better. We need to teach Miss Duran a lesson, don't we?"
Sophie felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped into her body, flooding her veins. She slowly turned to look at Winter, to see his reaction to Pierce's commands, a dull roaring sound starting up in her ears. The ground was tilting slightly under her feet and she felt faint. Winter glanced at her once and he looked hesitant for a moment—before he faced Pierce, nodded tersely, and said, "Yes, sir," in a low, emotionless voice.
Sophie's terror was mounting and as the men dragged her down four flights of stairs, Winter silently following them, she could only pray that she'd been right in her judgment of him—because if she'd been wrong…there was going to be hell to pay for her lapse in judgment. She'd been on the receiving end of his violence before and now he'd been given free reign to do anything he wanted to her to make her comply.
Please let him have been lying, she prayed. Please let him have been lying. Please let him have been lying. Her breath hitched as they entered a lower level two floors beneath the ground floor, dark and musty, flickering fluorescent lights illuminating the ghastly placed; it looked like some sort of torture chamber. PLEASE let him have been lying.
The men dragged her to the last cell, yanked the door open, and threw her in so hard she tripped and hit the ground, skinning her elbows badly. Winter stepped in after her and the doors clanged shut. She heard the buzz of the cell's door locking shut. "Have fun," one of the men laughed and she realized in horror that he was talking to Winter, as if he envied him. The men left, whistling as they did, and Sophie slowly clambered to her feet, examining her bloody elbows before slowly looking up and locking eyes with Winter.
This was it. The true test to find out what kind of person he was.
