A/N: Happy Black Panther Day! If you have seen the movie, PLEASE be respectful and don't post spoilers in your reviews. But feel free to let me know if you were pleased by the movie! And let me know your thoughts on this chapter. :)


The guard led Sophie up to the third level, looking this way and that, a slightly guilty expression on his face. Sophie decided to try and use that to her advantage. "Please don't do this," she said, trying to sound extremely frightened. She was still scared but she felt better now that she had a dagger in her hand—plus she was a little wired after her kiss with Winter.

Do not think about that right now. It's irrelevant. It meant nothing.

"Shut up," the guard said roughly.

Well, so much for that.

He hauled her to a small corridor that branched off of the main hallways and deposited her in front of a plain white door. He knocked and the door swung open to reveal Rorkin. He looked elated at the sight of Sophie. "Wonderful! Come in," he said. "You, stay outside," he said to the guard. The man looked angry and resentful at having to be a part of these shenanigans but he didn't refuse.

Rorkin pulled Sophie into the room and shut the door behind her. She didn't miss the fact that he locked it. A thrill of foreboding ran down her spine and she resisted the urge to finger the dagger.

"Take a seat." Rorkin gestured to one of the chairs in the room, which held a large oak desk, a computer, and many bookshelves stuffed haphazardly with thick binders and heavy-looking books. Crooked doctorates hung on the wall and a low-slung, worn-out sofa sat in one corner. A plant wilted on the desk.

The sight of the computer had sent a frisson down Sophie's spine but she studiously kept her gaze away from it. She didn't want Rorkin to guess a single thing she was planning. She sat down in a squishy armchair and was horrified when he sat down in an armchair nearby and dragged it over so he was sitting across from her, his knees almost touching hers. She shrank away from him, pressing her back firmly against the back of the armchair.

"So," he said, looking over her with greedy, beady little eyes. Sophie realized that, despite his white hair, he wasn't actually that old. Possibly in his forties or fifties. Maybe he dyed it? Or it had gone prematurely white. "How are you?"

Sophie clamped her mouth firmly shut and glared stubbornly at him.

Rorkin sighed. "Sophie…you'll need to talk. Otherwise there will be repercussions—I told you this. Please don't do this. We can be allies. No one here has treated you well. I can treat you well. We can be partners in this, you, me…and your beautiful, clever mind."

Sophie gagged on the inside. The way he said that was not a compliment—it was creepy. Still, a frantic gleam had lit his eyes and she worried that he might do something crazy if she didn't speak. "What do you want?" she asked roughly.

He clapped once like an overexcited child. "Excellent! I'm glad you asked. All I want is to study you. Test your limits. Run scans on you. Figure out what makes you tick." He listed all these things off as if they were fun activities she should be thrilled for.

"What makes me tick is staying away from creeps like you," she said politely.

He looked startled for a moment and then his face went slack. An angry look came into his eyes. He didn't have Pierce's calm. "Creeps like me? No, no, Sophie, you've got it all wrong. I want you to realize your full potential!"

"What potential?" she snapped.

He leaned forward and she leaned back, scooting her chair away from him. His eyes had a crazed look to them and he said, "Your mind. If what they told me is right—are you aware of what you're capable of? You can override security measures to obtain launch codes. You can figure out the bank details of the richest men and women on Earth. You can uncover detailed security plans for any building on Earth. You could be the most powerful person on the planet—if you utilized your powers well. You could bring down governments, steal state secrets, steal scientific data… The possibilities are endless! And I want to see how you do it. I want to see how you use them."

Sophie felt sick when she saw the fanatical gleam lighting up his face. He was talking about doing all of these things as if they were good things. This had been her worst nightmare her whole life: someone finding about her skills and wanting to use her this way. This was why she'd never revealed them. She wasn't like the Avengers. Her talents made her incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands—and most people were the wrong hands. Who wouldn't be, when they had essentially the world's best hacker at their service?

"Who are you?" she asked, revolted. "What is wrong with you? Why would I want to do any of that?!"

"I told you, my name is Dr. Thomas Rorkin," he said. "I'm a scientist and I specialize in computer science and neuroscience. I'm the one who encrypts all of Hydra's most important data," he said smugly. "I'm the one who holds the very files that keep this group alive and well."

It suddenly struck Sophie that Rorkin was either exceedingly stupid—or astonishingly arrogant. He was telling her, the girl who could absorb information from technology, that he held Hydra's most important files. Either he hadn't realized she could be capable of being a threat or he really didn't think she could ever be a worthy threat.

I'll show him.

"And what are you planning to do with me?" she asked rudely. "Sounds like you're a scientist, not a neurosurgeon. How are you planning on seeing inside my mind?"

"Trust me, there are ways," he said smoothly. "Scans, tests, trial runs… I can also take samples of your brain tissue and—"

"Hold up, wait!" Sophie shouted, horrified. "Take samples of my brain tissue? How the hell are you going to do that? You're not a surgeon!"

"No, but I have surgeons at my disposal. Don't worry," he said in what probably seemed like a soothing tone to him but sounded weak to Sophie. "There's minimal risk. Our surgeons are top-notch and all it takes is opening one small section of the skull, taking the sample, and suturing the skull back on. Back of the head, under the hair, no one will even see it—"

"That's the least of my worries!" she cried, feeling the urge to throw up. Her hands felt slick with sweat and she wanted out of this room right now—but she couldn't leave without finding out information on Winter first. She owed it to him, after using him so badly before she left. "You are not going to open up my skull and take some of my brain!" She held back a wave of nausea, slamming a closed fist against her mouth to quell the shrieks building up in her chest.

"I assure you, Sophie, it's mostly safe!" he protested.

"Mostly?" she asked cuttingly. "What does that mean? Has—" A sudden, horrific thought hit her. "Have other people gone through this?" she asked, her eyes growing wide and white. Her left hand clenched the armchair arm with white knuckles and her right hand drifted to the pocket of her sweater, resting just outside the opening, fingers curling up into a fist. When Rorkin hesitated, she said, "Tell me!" in ringing tones.

"There have been…other test subjects," he admitted grudgingly. "People with other powers, other talents—nothing as powerful as you, however," he added quickly, as if this would appease her. "Some of them—I admit, we pushed some of them too far and they…"

"And they?" Sophie pressed with a sense of dawning horror.

"And some of them did experience…brain damage," he admitted reluctantly.

"Fabulous," Sophie said faintly. "Who wouldn't agree to testing that might leave you brain damaged?" She gave a hysterical-sounding laugh as her mind raced to figure out what to do next. She needed to get her hands on his industrial-grade, important-looking computer system. If he had access to all of Hydra's mainframes and important files… She could get in through his computer.

"But it'll be different with you!" he said eagerly, his eyes shining with all the possibilities over cutting her head open. "I know better—I know how far to push people—and your capabilities are so much more complex than any other person we've ever had. I'll be extra careful with you."

He was leaning uncomfortably close and she scooted her chair back a little more, heart pounding. "No thank you," she said hoarsely.

"Sophie, think of the possibilities—"

"No," she said forcefully, feeling panic fluttering in her chest. Her hand slipped into her pocket and gripped her dagger in a sweaty grip.

"Sophie—" And then Rorkin made the mistake of leaning too far forward and trying to—what? What had he planned on doing? His hands were outstretched, his fingers curved, as if he planned on grabbing her head. She had no idea what he'd planned but she knew in a heartbeat that she didn't want it. Her panic overtook her completely and she yanked the dagger out and thrust it blindly in his direction.

"Oh—" He let out a strange, wheezy gasp and looked down at his stomach with wide eyes. Sophie slowly looked down with wide, horrified eyes and gasped when she realized that her dagger was buried in his stomach, her hand still gripping the handle. Blood was beginning to slowly seep across his white button-down shirt. He looked back up at her almost wonderingly, as if he couldn't believe what she'd done (neither could she, really), and then he whispered, "You little—"

Sophie desperately lunged for his desk, grabbing his potted plant, and swung around, smashing the pot directly onto his head. It shattered but the sound was muffled by the carpet below, dirt and withered leaves falling everywhere. Rorkin's mouth opened for a minute, a glazed look in his eyes and her dagger still stuck in his stomach, and then he slumped over in his chair, the dark red stain on his shirt getting larger every second. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his forehead.

"Oh my god," she whispered, wringing her hands, which were flecked with his blood. "Oh my god—oh my god—" What had she done? Had she just murdered someone? Not that he didn't deserve death but the thought of killing someone made her sick. She dropped to her knees by him with a low thud, her breath coming out in panicked, fluttery sounds, and pressed her fingers to his neck. A wave of relief swept through her when she realized he still had a heartbeat and was still alive—but for how long?

This hadn't been how she'd planned it but she had work to do and now was her best chance. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, threw her shoulders back, and hurried around to the desk. She sat cross-legged in front of the computer, took another deep breath, and closed her eyes. Then she placed her hands on the warm, humming computer and focused.

For a moment, nothing happened and she worried that she'd forgotten how to do it—

But then she burst through the door and it was as easy as breathing, it was so natural, so normal, she was built for this, she was made for this… She felt her shoulders relax as she vanished from this world and entered the computer. She burst through the dark vortex and felt things snapping, sparkling, hissing, and clicking all around her. She shifted and focused her energy, running down endless file cabinets and gleaming boxes stretching into the black infinity, searching, searching for the one she wanted—

Suddenly she knew which way to go. She ran, the dark surface beneath her like a mirror, reflecting the dark sky and sides, which in turn reflected each other, turning the entire universe into a glittering vortex of endless cabinets and criss-crossing, zooming wires and lights, snapping, popping, blinking lights—

Suddenly she could feel herself taking it all in. She was pulling information in, as hard and fast as she could, tiny little clink, clink, clink noises in her head as new information fell neatly into patiently waiting slots like compact coins. She was here but she was there. She could feel her body and mind and she was standing still inside the mind of the computer, yet she was also running at the speed of light, leaping over glowing wires, ripping open a few specific drawers and shuddering as she felt electricity flow in and out of her a crackling river, her veins lighting up like a glow-in-the-dark map. So much beautiful information. So many new words and pictures to sort and slot into her personal memory card, deleting the files she didn't need, downloading everything she could, taking it all in—

And then it was over. It had happened in a matter of seconds. She pulled back out of the computer and back into reality, shuddering as the spell broke and she came off of her electrical high. The room seemed deathly silent and pale after the computer and her heart was pounding so loud that she couldn't hear anything over it. She felt like her entire body was glowing and humming; she hadn't experienced her technology high in years.

She didn't care—her mind was swimming with new information and she was furiously racing to piece it all together. She knew. She knew. She finally, finally knew what had happened to Winter—who he was—and she knew who she needed to contact now—she knew what would happen if she didn't—

Everyone was in danger and she needed to contact him. He was their only hope now.

She crawled around the desk to where Rorkin lay, feebly stirring. She had to make it seem like no time had passed, like she hadn't done anything since she'd stabbed him. She grabbed the dagger and pushed it deeper into his stomach, ignoring the squelching sound and fresh wave of blood that seeped up and covered her fingertips. Then she opened her mouth and began screaming at the top of her lungs.

It took ten seconds for the guard outside to kick the door down and assess the situation. It took another fifteen seconds for him to yell for backup, for medical personnel, and to grab Sophie's arm violently, dragging her up and shaking her till her teeth rattled and yelling, "WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Sophie thought it was fairly obvious what she had done but she had a feeling he was asking why she did it instead. So she burst into tears to avoid answering the question. He responded by slapping her squarely across the face, so hard that she slammed into the wall. He didn't even give her time to fall over. He grabbed her arm and yanked her from the room so roughly that her other shoulder slammed into the door frame. She let out a wail of pain and he shook her so hard she thought her neck might snap. She was aware that the hallway was filled with a crowd of people, most watching Rorkin being lifted onto a stretcher but quite a few watching her with the guard. "Shut up," he hissed, his face screwed up with fury, almost shaking with anger.

He dragged Sophie all the way back down to the lower level and the cell, unlocking the door and throwing Sophie in so hard she flew back a few feet and hit the ground on her back. She lay there, gasping, but before she could regain her breath, the guard had stormed in and yanked her to her feet. She staggered, her bloody fingers brushing against his chest, and he shoved her away from him.

"SOLDIER!" he barked, his expression livid. "Up! Right now!"

Sophie turned to see Winter getting to his feet, a wary expression on his face. "What?" he asked.

"You're going to teach your little girlfriend a lesson," the guard seethed. "This little—bitch—decided to make a move, and stabbed Rorkin in the stomach and knocked him out! And the bitch wasn't even supposed to technically be there—do you know what will happen to me if Rorkin dies?" the guard suddenly screamed. His voice was shaking in what Sophie had originally assumed was anger but now saw was fear. "If Rorkin dies—if the Director finds out I let his prized scientist die—" He broke off, breathing heavily. "Beat her. Now."

Winter stared at him through hooded eyes, face expressionless.

"Well?" the guard snarled. "What did I say? I want to see you teach her a lesson right now. I'd do it myself but you'll do a better job." He licked his lips and waited with nasty pleasure, eyes darting between the both of them. Sophie and Winter both stood frozen, her staring at him and him staring at the guard.

"What is this?" the guard asked slowly, quietly. "Are you actually refusing one of my orders, Soldier? Do I need to remind you who comes higher on the chain of command? Or do you—" His eyes darted to Sophie and a look of confusion crossed his face. "Do you actually like her?"

"No," Winter finally said. "I was thinking of the best way to teach her a lesson."

"Good," the guard snapped, giving Sophie a terrifying smile. "Then do it. I want to see her bleed." He slammed the door of the cell shut and then leaned against it, folding his arms expectantly. Winter positioned himself so that he was directly in front of Sophie, his back to the guard, blocking her from his view. He looked at her and mouthed, "Act like it hurts." Before Sophie could think, What? he had punched her in the stomach.

And it did hurt.

She knew, deep down, that he wasn't using his full strength. If he had, he would probably have been able to rip her head off. She also noticed that he was strategically avoiding her face or ribs—or breaking any major bones, really. But she didn't have to act like it hurt because his blows really did…well, hurt. Not as much as they had before, when he'd actually intended to hurt her, but still.

He grabbed her arm, twisted it, and forced her to the ground, grabbing the hair and wrenching her head back. She let out a yell, her face screwed up with pain, and desperately tried to use her left arm to scrabble behind her to hit him. She knew that technically she shouldn't have been hitting him, because he didn't choose—or want—to do this… But it probably would have looked suspicious if she didn't even try to fight back—and besides, her instinct to defend herself was growing stronger. She wasn't the same girl who let him drag her limp body down a hall crying and screaming.

He kicked her squarely in her back, avoiding her spine, and she flew forward and hit the floor, biting her lip and drawing blood. She flipped over, scrambling backwards on all fours, trying to regain her balance. He grabbed her by the front of her collar and lifted her in the air so high that her feet dangled a foot off the ground. She flailed, grabbing for her collar (which was sort of choking her), spluttering, and he slammed her into the wall so hard that stars exploded in front of her eyes and she couldn't help but wail.

And on and on and on it went. It must have been around ten or fifteen straight minutes but Sophie couldn't keep track of the time because she was too busy pretending to be in more pain than she was and lost in the frantic thoughts in her mind. She needed to tell Winter what she'd found out but he had to stop beating her first. After what seemed like ages, he stopped and stepped back. She slumped against the wall, clutching her head in her hands, tears of pain and anger burning in her eyes. Being beat up and pretending to have it hurt more than it did while the guard watched…the humiliation of it burned her.

"Keep going," the guard snapped. "I don't recall telling you to stop."

"Enough," Winter said.

"I said—"

"Enough," Winter snarled. "The Director wants her alive. Do you want to answer to him if she dies or sustains permanent brain damage?"

The guard spat at his feet but then shrugged and smiled nastily at Sophie. "Well…good enough. For now." He turned and left, slamming and locking the door after him.

There was a ringing silence after he was gone. Sophie wiped away her tears and looked up to see Winter retreating back to his wall, his expression a bit strange. He looked pale but grim. He kept his eyes locked on her but didn't ask if she was okay. Such a weird guy. Sophie's heart flooded when she remembered all she had learned.

She crawled over to him and he flinched away from her, as if he expected her to hit him for what he'd done. She sat next to him, a few inches away, cross-legged. "It's okay," she said, reaching out to pat his knee—and then thinking better of it and withdrawing her hand. She'd already touched him without his permission once today (her cheeks burned at the thought and then her cheeks burned even more when she realized she'd enjoyed it; God, she was a monster) and she knew how he was about people touching him. "I know you didn't…have a choice."

"Are you…" he hesitated.

"I'm fine." She tried to smile widely and then winced when her lip split. Her body ached and throbbed at certain parts but it felt mostly like a hardcore workout—or what Sophie imagined a hardcore workout would feel like. With perhaps a little more pain added. Or a lot. "I'll be fine," she amended. "It's nothing horrible."

"Ah," he said faintly. He stared away from her, focusing on the wall opposite them where Sophie had previously sat. "That's…" His voice trailed off as if he wasn't sure what to say. They sat in silence for a while and then he said, "So. Stabbed him and knocked him out?"

Sophie smiled grimly to herself. "Yes." She knew she probably should have felt bad over what she'd done—and a part of her really did feel ill and hope that Rorkin didn't die—but she couldn't also help but feel a bit satisfied. He was a monster and he really did deserve it—and who'd have thought that she, Sophie Duran, could have been capable of that?! She, the same girl who used to be afraid of driving cars and owning a DVD player!

Actually, the thought of driving cars still made her a bit nervous but she wasn't going to dwell on that right now.

"Good job," he said. His tone had a faint note of admiration to it, as if he couldn't believe it either.

Something had just occurred to Sophie, thinking about their kiss; she'd done it to protect Winter and herself, in case anyone had been watching them…but they'd already done quite a bit of talking before that which could be probably be called treason. "I have a question," she said quietly. "All those things we said yesterday—all that stuff you said about wanting to know more about yourself—and about not wanting to get…wiped again. Wasn't saying all of that dangerous?"

"Yes," he said flatly. "They could have been watching."

She raised an eyebrow and then winced at a sharp pain at her temple. She raised her hand and felt a thin scratch there. "And you said it all anyway?"

"I suspected they weren't—aren't—watching," he said, still looking away from her. "I suspected they weren't at first because…" He shrugged. "I'm the asset. I get the job done. They trust me to do my job. Why would someone watch us if I'm in here with you? Then, after I said all those things, and no one came down to collect me and take me to the chair"—he grimaced—"I knew for sure they weren't watching."

"Then what's with the camera?" she demanded.

He shrugged again. "Recording. To watch later—or as records. Who knows. Or maybe there's a chance someone is watching—a small chance."

"You—you should have told me this before!" Sophie spluttered, feeling indignation and embarrassment rise up inside of her. "I could have—I didn't have to kiss you then! I did all that because I was afraid someone might be watching us!"

He shrugged for a third time and Sophie felt like grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. He'd made such strides the day before, admitting to the memories he was experiencing, admitting some of his anger and frustration and fear, opening up to her…what the hell was wrong with him now? Why had he withdrawn back into his shell? He looked flat, colorless, empty. There was nothing on his face and nothing in his eyes.

This couldn't have anything to do with him beating me up, could it? Sophie wondered in shock. Shocked because he'd hurt her so many times before and he'd had no real choice this time—so if he really was blaming himself for what had just happened…

It meant he was feeling guilt.

And if he was feeling guilt…

It meant he was feeling things on the inside.

He was seeing her as more than just an object or a mission or a target.

And he was more than the Winter Soldier. She knew that for sure now.

"Winter," she whispered, willing him to look at her. He didn't. "Please look at me. I have something very important to tell you." She subtly shifted so that her back faced the camera and her hair swung to cover her sideways profile. He kept staring at the wall opposite them. Sophie didn't really know how to start so she decided to just jump in; she'd never had to deal with anything like this before.

"Winter, I know who you are," she whispered.

He seemed to go even more still than he already was.

"I know your name and where you came from," she said even more quietly now. She could barely hear her own whispers but she knew he could hear her. "And I know a lot more than that. I know something bad that Hydra's planning to do soon—and I know who to contact to help stop them…and help you."

He slowly looked up at her now, his mouth slightly open in confusion.

Her eyes blurred with tears against her will when she thought about the pieces of the puzzle in her mind, the way they were connecting. Some pieces were still missing but she knew so much now—and it hurt her. She knew she'd been right when she'd began to suspect that something horrible had been done to him. "Y-Your name…" She took a deep breath and gave him a watery smile, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "Your name was—is—James Barnes. You were born on March 10th, 1917. You were born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. You joined the 107th Infantry to fight in World War II. You were captured once by Hydra and declared missing-in-action but your best friend rescued you and your guys. But then you…I don't know, I guess you got recaptured again. Everyone back in America thought you died. But Hydra got you and they kept you. When they brought you in, you'd just lost your arm—some accident. It didn't say how; just that you were found bleeding in the snow, almost frozen to death."

She took a deep breath. "And they decided to use you. Your best friend…your best friend was Steve Rogers." Tears were flowing down her face now when she thought about the shock of the entire story. Winter had not only been a noble guy who'd gone to fight in war—his best friend had been the Steve Rogers. And everyone knew his story. Sophie had just never paid attention to any of the other names in his story. She was still in shock that she was sitting next to the man who'd been best friends with one of the most revered superheroes in American history—and present. "Also known as…Captain America. The guy they found frozen a few years ago—except he's still alive and kicking and he's an Avenger now. And"—she sniffed and tried to wipe her tears away—"Hydra decided to use you because of your connection to Steve Rogers—they thought it would be fitting—and basically…they basically gave you the metal arm you have now. They call it a cybernetic arm. And they injected you with their own form of a super-soldier serum. And they…"

Her tears began to flow again and she was crying so hard she could barely whisper the words. The images and tests and trials kept swimming in her head and his oblivious, clueless expression didn't help; he didn't even remember some of what they'd done to him. Did she have the right to destroy his mind even further by telling him? Or did he deserve the absolute truth now, being essentially the world's longest-suffering prisoner of war?

"They did so many things to you," she whispered. "So many t-tests and—and so much work into your mind… They kept suppressing your m-memories again and again and talking about conditioning you and erasing your personality… All the nightmares you seemed to have and the things you said in your sleep that they conditioned you to forget…"

His face was as white as a sheet but his eyes were half-lidded, almost as if he were in shock but also exhausted at the same time. It occurred to Sophie that he'd learned so much about himself in the past twenty-hours—more than he'd ever learned in decades.

"Why are you crying?" he asked hoarsely, finally speaking.

Sophie couldn't tell him she was crying for the boy he'd once been and the man he might have turned out to be if he'd gotten the chance to live. Hydra didn't have many files or notes on who James Barnes had really been before they took him but they had compiled a detailed file on his factual history throughout his entire life—places he'd worked, the names of people he knew, the schools he'd gone to—to erase those key words from his mind, probably… And they also had noted aspects of his personality, some deemed worthy enough to enhance and some deemed as threats that needed to be destroyed: loyal to a fault, stubborn, silent (work on this!), good focus, not squeamish, displays tendencies of friendliness (get. rid. of.)…

She wept for the innocent life that had been taken by them. Something about it seemed so much worse than criminal, so much worse than what had been done to her, because he was still so in the dark. It was horrible; it was like a child who didn't understand they had been abused, or a homeless person who didn't understand that they deserved better. He was dark and dangerous and smart as a whip, no doubt, but there was a terrible innocence to him that was destroying Sophie's heart. She wished she could go back in time and protect 28-year-old James Barnes before he'd been captured by Hydra.

Her mind spun with the files and faded handwritten documents and fuzzy footage of a blurry figure being physically trained and tested, and she had to press her hands against her eyes to fight off a wave of nausea. She hadn't downloaded information into her mind in a long time and she'd never downloaded so much before. The high was fading and the headache was coming. Her horribly-aching mind was frantically racing to sort everything into neat piles, deleting the little things she didn't neat, organizing, storing, dragging important bits and pieces to the forefront…

Like Project Insight.

Sophie had downloaded all tentative projects of Hydra's from the past five years and her mind had immediately locked onto the one that had the most recent dates. Normally, it would have taken Sophie hours to read and understand the files and papers, had she had to do it the normal human way by reading and reviewing…but when it came to Sophie's mind, things worked at hyper-speed. Most people's minds did. Sophie had once read a theory in a book that humans only used a small percentage of their brain capacity and she believed it—or she did about herself anyway. When she was downloading, her synapses were firing simultaneously, her mind lighting up like fireworks, locking things into place, decoding, deleting, organizing, prioritizing…

And she understood the gist of Project Insight: some kind of enormous weapon was to be unveiled in a short amount of time this very spring and it would be able to take out millions of people all around the world at once. Anyone Hydra deemed a threat—and this seemed to be anyone valuable, smart, talented, powerful, or skilled who didn't seem likely to agree with them—would be killed in an instant. The entire list of name scrolled down in Sophie's head at warp speed and she had to control herself as her mind blinked in on several notable names at they sped by: politicians, activists, brilliant scientists, top physicians and surgeons, writers, artists, superheroes… There was no end to the names.

The one thing Sophie didn't have was the where and how and a specific when. Her mind had frantically raced around searching for the information but nothing fit the keywords. Either she'd missed it and the information had been deeper in the files—perhaps in files ten, fifteen, twenty years old—or Hydra had been extremely careful to never note down these things…even in their own files. Perhaps they'd been paranoid of their files being breached or stolen. Good for them but horribly unfortunate for Sophie, who ached to know these vital aspects of their plan.

There were other plans and programs and secrets of Hydra's swirling around in her mind now but she'd have to think about those later. Right now, her head was pounding and Winter and Project Insight were the only pressing things on her mind.

"No reason," she finally sniffed, wiping away her tears. "There's something else, too…" Quietly, haltingly, she explained Project Insight in the best way that she could. She expected his expression to grow horror-struck the more she explained it but it didn't; it remained impassive throughout her whole explanation and her unease grew the whole time. "Well?" she quietly demanded at the end.

"Not our problem," he finally said, sounding almost bored.

"Not— Yes, it is!" Sophie spluttered.

"Not our problem," he repeated firmly.

"It—it is our problem!" she hissed, feeling horrified. "All those innocent people!"

He shrugged. "Nothing we can do."

She was so angry she smacked his arm as hard as she could. He didn't even wince and she yanked her stinging hand away, biting back swear words. She'd forgotten she was hitting the metal—cybernetic—arm and it hurt like hell. "Listen," she said in a low voice. "You might not think it's our problem—but it is. I know about the project now; you think I can sit around and let millions of people die? No. No way."

"So what do you propose we do?" he asked mockingly.

"Contact Captain America," she said calmly. The answer had presented itself to her almost instantaneously after she'd downloaded the information: Captain America. He was the solution to all of their problems. Not only was he the childhood best friend of Winter…James…but he was probably one of the only people in the world who could figure out a way to stop Project Insight. If he wanted to invite his Avenger pals to help, Sophie wouldn't stop him.

He scowled at her but didn't say anything, possibly because he had nothing to say. She glared back at him and they stared at each other for a very long moment before he looked away first—Ha!—and mumbled, "I can't believe…my name is James…" He pressed his fingers to his temple as if he really could not believe it.

"Shhh!" Sophie shushed. "Don't say it out loud anymore! What if they hear you? If they figure out I know all that stuff about you, they'll suppress my memories!"

He nodded once but Sophie could still see the confusion and longing haunting his eyes; he'd just had a huge load of information dumped on him…but it still wasn't enough. He wanted to know more. She didn't blame him; she wanted to know more too. She wanted to know about who James Barnes had been. And finding Captain America would help with that.

Sophie leaned forward and said, "Winter…getting me to Hydra was your first mission."

He looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

"Now we have a new mission," she said, emphasizing that they were together in this now. "Get the hell out of here and find Captain America."