A/N: Happy 2019, everybody! I was a busy bee in 2018, but I'm feeling pretty motivated and excited for 2019. I think I'll have a lot more time to write. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think of it!


Sophie hadn't expected the escape to go off without a hitch but she hadn't anticipated them bursting out of the Hydra compound on a motorcycle, leaving a wake of flames, destruction, and deadly shooters behind them. Winter tore across the grass, turning so sharply to get back onto the road that Sophie swore her elbow was inches away from scraping against the ground.

They'd gotten a slight head start because none of the other agents had been able to flip their vehicles like Winter had (and flipping a SUV was probably not a good idea anyway). Sophie supposed she shouldn't be amazed by anything he did by now but she was still in awe over the way he'd flipped the motorcycle and kept them both on (though there had been one wild second where her entire body had lifted off the seat and she'd thought she was going to go hurtling to her death).

She chanced a glance behind them and her stomach dropped in fear and horror when she realized that there were vehicles in pursuit of them now. Far behind, yes, but these were all trained, skilled agents who knew how to participate in car chases—they would probably catch up to them quickly. "Where are we going?" she shouted against the wind rushing past.

"Away!" he shouted back.

It wasn't much of an answer but Sophie clung to it like a lifeline. As long as they got away from Hydra, she didn't give a damn where they went, whether it be Goiânia, Australia, or Antarctica.

She could hear someone gaining on them, their engine growling, and before she could turn around, a gunshot shattered the air above their head. She let out a scream before she could control herself and then she bit down on her lip so hard that she tasted coppery blood. Hold it together, Sophie! Now is not the time to be freaking out and screaming! Don't be a baby! So when she heard the next gunshot, she flinched violently but she held her tongue, biting down on it to hold back her shrieks.

They pressed on, going faster and faster, and he began zig-zagging so wildly that her already-vise-like grip on him tightened even further in a desperate attempt not to be flung off. She didn't understand what he was doing until she heard the gunshots behind them and then suddenly understood: the more he swerved, the harder it was for them to aim, especially at these speeds.

They raced down the barren main road that away from the Hydra compound and for a few frightening moments, that was all there was: the lonely, long road; the fields and trees stretching out on either side; a blue sky that seemed to be mocking them; the sound of cars and guns in pursuit behind them; the wind rushing into Sophie's face, stealing her breath; the pounding her blood ringing in her ears, almost muffling the entire chase. And for one long moment, Sophie felt like that was all there ever would be: just them, locked in this chase for eternity, never escaping, never outrunning the bad guys, like a bad nightmare that would never end—

But then all of a sudden the city of Goiânia sprung up in the horizon and time seemed to speed up all of a sudden, like a rubber band that had been stretching, stretching, snap! All of a sudden everything felt too loud and sudden, gunshots and vehicle engines blaring in her ears, the sun beating down on them, the wind pressing into her face and making her dry eyes sting. She felt a weird ringing noise in her ears and her grip on Winter's waist seemed to loosen a fraction. What was happening—?

"Hold on," she heard him growl over the wind and engine. "Don't let go!"

So she swallowed back the assault of sensations and clung to him harder, pressing her face into his back and closing her eyes, trying to clear her mind. She didn't want to look behind her. She didn't want to see where they were going. She didn't want to see Hydra gaining on them and know that their escape had been useless. No, she wanted to close her eyes and let what happened…just happen. She'd been holding herself together for days now, in an attempt to stay brave and figure out who Winter really was, but now she realized how truly tired and afraid she really was.

Afraid of where she'd just come from.

Afraid of being made to go back.

Afraid of being hunted down.

I thought I was brave but I'm still so, so scared.

She could tell as the city drew closer because she began to hear other noises: the faint sounds of other traffic, of pedestrians, of street life and horns honking and just…humans. Humanity. Life. Which Sophie dearly wanted to hold on to. She opened her eyes a peek and saw that they were truly entering the city limits now: there was more greenery, more small housing communities surrounding the outskirts, small businesses popping up here and there, all leading to the large, gleaming city that rose up ahead of them, clustered sky scrapers and pointy spires. He made a sudden, sharp swerve onto a small alley road that ran behind a row of houses. They raced down that road and he made a sudden left into an even smaller alley road, this one running between houses on either side. He pulled to a very sudden stop, the engine rumbling slightly, and then he turned the engine off completely.

Sophie was startled; they hadn't gone nearly far enough to be stopping! Hydra had been right on their tail! What was he doing? "What—" she began but he twisted around and hissed, "Shhh," so she clamped her mouth shut and did what he did: listened carefully with watchful eyes.

Though she had no clue what she was watching or listening for.

She figured it out a moment later when they both heard the loud noises of several pursuit vehicles roar past the small community on the main road they'd just been on moments ago. They listened as the SUVs and motorcycles roared on down the main road and eventually vanished, the sounds of their engines fading to silence.

"You managed to trick them," she said in surprise. He gave her a look that seemed to imply he was a little insulted by the surprise in her voice. "Where are we going now?" she asked.

"The city," he said.

"But—but they're also headed to the city—"

"Didn't say we were going there straight. We'll take the long way around, go around the whole city in a circle, and make our way to the north side. Find a place to stay, ditch the motorcycle and destroy it."

"Destroy it?"

"It might have a tracking chip in it."

So they set off. It was slow-going and Sophie had to stop herself from jumping every time she heard a car engine. She also wished they didn't stand out so much because every Brazilian they passed stared at the duo in surprise and sometimes alarm. She wondered what they looked like and then realized that not only was she still wearing a bright native Peruvian outfit, her face was probably covered in bruises. And he just looked…well, shady. That was the only word to describe him. She hoped no one would call the local police on them because that would be sure to get Hydra's attention.

He didn't ride at full speed because that would have also attracted attention. Instead, they rumbled along at a pace some might call pleasant. Because Sophie was impatient and afraid, she called it slow as snails. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers and she would much rather have inched along safely than raced while being chased and shot at. They cruised through back alley streets and small roads, weaving in out and out of smaller suburban communities, small business areas and towns that naturally sprung up on the outskirts of a large city, getting a chance to see the houses and small shops and people going about their lives. They passed under clotheslines hung between buildings, brightly-colored garments hung like flags, and through small markets with stalls and tiny shops with striped awnings, advertising drug stores, ice cream shops, delis…

The sky was bright blue, the day hot and sunny, the area cheerful and busy, teeming with life. It felt surreal, as if they were cruising through a bright Picasso painting, out of place with their injuries and strange clothes and dirty, matted hair. Also, Sophie really had to use the bathroom. There'd been a pot in the corner of their cell where Winter had dutifully turned away but she found that could barely use it, so dehydrated and anxious had she been. She really needed some alone time in a private bathroom with a real shower and toilet.

They rode on for two hours, keeping to the edge of the city, going through as many alleys and small streets as they could. She had no idea how he knew where he was going but then it occurred to her that they didn't have a real destination anyway. He just wanted to make sure they were far from the Hydra agents. Early afternoon had slowly stretched into late afternoon and even though the skies and sun were still bright, Sophie could feel the evening coming on. She welcomed it and its shadows—all the better to cloak themselves in.

At one point, he suddenly made an unexplained U-turn and traveled back down a road they'd just passed through. He turned the motorcycle into a small, dirty, deserted alley and killed the engine. They both sat there for a moment. She waited for him to speak but he was still and silent, staring off ahead of him, completely unmoving. Used to him lapsing into statue mode by now, she cleared her throat loudly and asked, "Where are we?"

"Found a place we can stay," he said. "Get off."

She clambered off the motorcycle but he didn't. Surprised, she walked around to look at his face but he sharply said, "Get against the wall."

For one brief moment, Sophie felt a thrill of fear—an old fear, one she hadn't felt with him for a while, one that asked, Is he going to hurt me?

But then the moment passed and she backed up against the wall and waited. He nodded at her and said, "Wait here. I'm going to go get clothes, money, and get rid of the bike. Don't talk to anyone. Don't draw attention. Just…stay here."

She nodded and he silently backed the motorcycle up and pulled back onto the larger street, vanishing out of sight. She figured sitting was less conspicuous than standing so she slid down the wall and crossed her legs, resting her head against the wall. A sudden, strange thought occurred to her: I could escape on my own right now. The thought was daring and strange—and true. She could easily run off right now. He would hunt her down, of course, but she didn't think it'd be too hard to get lost in a big city. And then all she'd have to do was somehow call her parents in America and get them to fly over first chance they got. Keep it quiet, so no one else found out. She'd given Winter most of the important information about himself that he needed to look into his past—why was she still sticking with him?

But even as she entertained the wild idea, she knew deep down in her heart that she would never do it. For one thing, she hadn't told him everything she knew about him. Yes, she'd told him the main facts, the things he really needed to know, but she felt she owed him every single thing she knew. He'd gone so long without his identity; how could she walk away now, knowing that he'd murmured things like "I'm with you till the end of the line" and "That's rich, kid" in his sleep before they erased those words from his mind?

For another thing, she still had a duty—to the world, now—to stop Project Insight. And to do that, she had a feeling she'd need a super-soldier's help. Even if she didn't need Winter's help, she would at the very least need an Avenger's help—and with Winter, she had a semi-direct connection to one of the Avengers. It was handy to stay with him, really.

But most of all…and this was the reason Sophie felt strange thinking about…she didn't want to leave him. Something was different between them. Him leaving her behind and assuming she trusted him enough to not run away—it proved that things were different. Their kiss proved that something was different, even though the kiss had obviously been fake and done in desperation. She couldn't exactly put a word to how they were now—were they friends? Comrades in battle? Something else entirely?—but she knew something linked the two of them now…something more than just his original mission to Hydra.

She didn't know how much time passed while he was gone but the sun definitely slipped lower in the sky. She didn't want to start panicking just yet so she focused on counting the cars that passed by on the main road at the other end of the alley. He's fine. He has to be. There's no way he would let himself get caught now…

There's no way he would let himself get caught now that he knows I'm waiting for him. The thought popped up out of nowhere and she had nothing to really back it up—but at the same time she somehow had everything to back it up. None of the things he'd done so far would have seemed loyal to a normal person, but considering how he'd been before… Sophie knew that he would make it back to her. He'd broken her out of Hydra at his own risk when he could have just walked out on his own and encountered far less trouble. They were connected now.

She just hoped she wasn't blowing their connection out of proportion. A fine thing it'd be to have him somehow betray her now, when she almost totally trusted him.

The sky turned a lovely cornflower blue, signaling the oncoming evening, and the sun twinkled gold against it, slowly sinking in the sky. The alley she was sitting in was cast in deep shadow, for which she was grateful. She had even less chance of being spotted now. She was just examining her dirty and scraped hands when she heard footsteps coming up the alley. She drew back as close to the wall as she could, wrapping her arms around her knees, before peering out. It was Winter, she realized with relief.

He looked different. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a dark red hoodie with a black baseball hat, his hair tied back from his face. A black drawstring canvas bag hung off of his arm, bulging with something. He still wore his black combat boots under the jeans. She stood up, brushing the dirt off of Ihuicatl's dress and he tossed a bundle at her. She caught it automatically and then held the clothing out: a pair of loose black sweatpants with a drawstring at the waist, a faded olive green t-shirt with a v-neck, and a thin cream-colored cardigan. Her clothes felt vaguely damp.

"Those pants were the best I could do," he said in answer to a question Sophie hadn't even asked.

She looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"The pants are fine," she said.

"Okay." Then he stood there, staring at her. She stared back at him, a little bewildered. What was he looking at her for? Were they waiting for something? What was—

Oh. "Wait, you want me to change now?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Here? In the alley?"

"Yes."

"No thank you," she said firmly. She'd already changed once in front of him and that had been more than enough for her comfort zone. "I'll change at the—at whatever place we stay at."

"No, you won't," he said just as firmly. "Do you see how you look? That dress stands out. We'll be noticed in a minute. For all we know, they've already been asking about a girl in a bright red dress. Get changed—now."

She scowled but she knew he was right. Her dirty, native dress was incredibly eye-catching. She was definitely memorable in it, especially as a bruised and dirty white girl. She ordered him to turn around and he dutifully did so. Then she crouched down and spent a few painful minutes hopping around, smacking her shoulder into the wall, trying to take off and put on her clothes without him seeing, anyone else seeing, or getting really dirty. When she was done, he turned back around and thrust two more things at her. Her hands closed over them and she saw that she was holding a hair tie and a bottle of…was that foundation?

She had questions but first things first: her hair. She'd started out this journey with a hair tie but it had obviously snapped along the way somewhere. She quickly gathered her straight dark hair into a high pony, sighing at the relief of having her hair off her neck in this heat. Then she studied the bottle of foundation. It was some Latin American brand she'd never heard of. "This is for my bruises," she stated.

"Yes."

"It's two shades too dark," she pointed out.

The look he gave her was half-incredulous and half-bewildered. It seemed to both say I don't care and Come again?

Sophie decided not to explain. She dabbed a bit onto the tips of her fingers and massaged it into her face, hoping she was covering her whole face and blending it in well. She'd never worn much makeup—it tended to enhance her prettiness, which was the opposite of what she'd always wanted—but when she had, she'd always her proper lighting, a mirror, and the proper shades. She hoped her face didn't look splotchy.

"How do I look?" she asked, facing him.

His expression was blank, as if he wasn't quite sure what she was asking him. "The bruises are covered."

She sighed. "Never mind. That's fine."

"Ditch the clothes," he ordered.

She clutched Ihuicatl's clothes to her chest stubbornly. "No way! Ihuicatl gave these to me! I'm keeping them." She couldn't explain it but she felt an ache at the thought of the woman's kindness. She had been one of the true bright spots during this whole ordeal. Sophie was going to hold onto her clothes for as long as she humanly could. Winter's eyes gleamed in the dark, the rest of his face thrown in shadow, and he looked extremely predatory and dangerous for a moment—as if he were going to rip the clothes from her hands—and she took a hasty step back. "Stay away from these clothes," she warned.

He watched her carefully for another long moment, expression still and wolfish, and then he stiffly held his hand out. "I'll put them in my bag." His voice sounded strained, as if he was in pain.

She looked at his hand suspiciously for a moment—what if he tore the clothes apart or something?—and then slowly handed them over, tensing herself to grab them back at any moment. But he yanked the canvas bag open and stuffed them inside, making it look even more bloated. "Happy?" he snapped, clearly irritated. She saw a flash of something wild in his eyes but it was gone before she could look closer. He grabbed the foundation from her hands and stuffed that in the bag as well. He yanked it closed and then said, "Follow me."

They walked side-by-side down the alley to the main street on the far side, the side they hadn't come from earlier. Stepping into the golden late evening sunshine, Sophie felt strangely light and almost carefree. Life was pretty stressful right now—but it was better than it had been in ages. She and Winter were partners. They'd successfully gotten away from Hydra. She was wearing loose clothes that didn't feel so hot and heavy. Her hair was off her neck. She felt almost bouncy.

"Where to?" she chirped.

He threw her a strange look, as if he didn't understand her sudden energy, and said, "Small hotel I saw down the street." His voice sounded tight and pinched for some reason, his shoulders extremely tense. They walked down the street, sticking close together but not quite touching, until he pulled her into a three-story rust-colored building that had a glowing green neon sign that read HOTEL in English on it. The inside was dark and semi-cool, a ceiling fan spinning lazily. The place looked small and cheap and worn-out, Sophie noted, but reasonably clean.

The woman sitting at the front desk—the only desk, really—barely even glanced at their faces as she accepted the cash Winter slid over. "Cuarto dezasseis," she said lazily, sliding over a key, her eyes never leaving her fashion magazine. Both Sophie and Winter stared at her, hoping she might translate, and then Winter suddenly slammed his fist down on the counter so hard Sophie thought she might have heard it crack. She jumped in alarm and the woman let out a small cry, skittering back.

"What?" he hissed, his eyes narrowed.

"Winter, calm down!" Sophie said frantically, grabbing his arm and trying to yank him back a few steps. The woman stared at him in clear horror. He wasn't showing any signs of backing down—she had no idea what the hell was wrong with him—so Sophie quickly said, "What room? Please—we're travelers—he's sick—"

"Sixteen!" the woman said, still looking semi-scared. "Six-teeeeen!"

"Okay, okay," Sophie said hastily. "Thank you! Gracias! Oh no, wait, you don't speak Spanish, do you? I—"

Before she could stammer out her thanks, Winter had grabbed her arm roughly and begun dragging her to the door that led to the stairwell. The woman glared after them, clearly over her fear and having moved onto anger now, and Sophie hastily looked away lest she decide to call the police on them. As soon as they were safely in the stairwell, she tried to wrench her arm away from Winter to no avail and hissed, "What the hell is your problem? Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I—" His expression looked pained and angry, his voice raspy. "I'm—"

"You acted seriously insane out there! All of this planning for our escape and you might have blown it over a temper tantrum! What if she calls the police on us now, huh?"

"It was a mistake," he ground out through gritted teeth, his face white for some reason.

"What's wrong with you?" Sophie demanded, thrown by his strange behavior. "Are you okay? You look like you're sick. And let go of my arm!"

"I—my head," he muttered. "I can hear—so much—it hurts," he finally said, grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "And if I could just—make it stop—if I could just—" His grip on her arm tightened and he gave her a sudden, strange look of longing that she didn't understand at all, as if she could somehow make his headache go away.

Then the moment passed and he let go of her arm. "Forget it," he said in a carefully-controlled voice even though she could still see pain pinching his face. He looked like he was trying very hard to control…whatever it was that was making him lose it. "Let's go before someone else sees us."

They climbed up to the third floor, Sophie wincing as pain shot down her waist and leg from the beating Winter had given her earlier. They didn't meet anyone on their way, for which she was thankful. They walked down the hall to Room 16 and he shot her a strange look as they stood outside the door, his eyes glittering slightly in the gloom of the dark hallway.

"Wh-What?" she asked uncertainly, feeling thrown.

"Nothing," he said, but it sounded almost like a question—like he was considering something. Sophie was really bewildered by his weird behavior now and watched carefully as he unlocked the door with slightly shaking hands. Since when did Winter's hands shake ever? Was he actually getting sick? Or was he experiencing some sort of drug withdrawal? Perhaps Hydra kept him pumped full of drugs and he was now experiencing the first stages of withdrawal… Sophie's mind raced with wild possibilities as he opened the door and stepped inside. She followed, mind working furiously, and took in the room around them. It was small and extremely hot—almost sweltering, really—but it looked reasonable enough. She heard Winter close and lock the door behind them, and turned to tell him that the room seemed okay—

And then he grabbed her, slammed her against the wall, and kissed her.

Sophie was so shocked that for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Her mind spun dizzyingly and she couldn't move. Her mind could barely understand what was going on. Winter was kissing her—or he was trying to, since she wasn't exactly responding—his hands were pinning her against the wall—

What the HELL is going on?!

All of a sudden her mind caught up with the situation and her body reacted naturally. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved as hard as he could. He clearly hadn't been expecting this because he stumbled back, a startled expression on his face.

"What the hell was that?" she shouted.

"Keep it down," he snapped.

"What the hell was that?" she repeated in a furious whisper.

He looked shocked by her reaction and took another step away from her, backing up into the room, looking for all the world not a dangerous assassin but instead a defenseless, cornered animal. "I—I—"

"What?" she said shrilly. "Don't—don't tell me you actually believed the speech I gave back in the cell? About—about loving you?" Her cheeks felt hot. "Because that was all to make the kiss believable! And the kiss was so I could get your dagger without drawing attention to myself!"

"I know," he snarled, looking angry and embarrassed now, bright pink splotches covering his pale cheeks. "I know that!"

"So what—what the heck—" She was so lost for words that all she could do was gape at him. "Are you—I mean, are you—" She wanted to ask Are you actually in love with me? But the words wouldn't come because they sounded absurd even in her head. How could she ask the Winter Soldier something like that? It was preposterous. It was ridiculous. It was unthinkable.

"Never mind," he said tightly. "Just—just forget it. I—" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again, his face screwing up in pain. "I'm…not myself right now. I need…to rest…" He sat down on one of the beds and covered his face with his hands. Sophie stared at him, mouth open, for a long moment—but when it became clear that he wasn't resurfacing anytime soon, she fled into the tiny bathroom connected to the room, locking the door and staring at herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks and lips were bright pink, her hair messed up. She splashed some lukewarm water on her face and studied her face again. It still looked pink…but less pink. What was going on here? Why on Earth had he kissed her? Something not normal was going on and she was going to get to the bottom of it. But for now—her gaze fell upon the toilet and tiny little shower—she was going to spend a little alone time for the first time in a long time.

She used the bathroom and then cranked on the shower, stripping out of her clothes and stepping into the spray. She'd had a shower at the Hydra compound and the amenities had been nicer but she'd also felt trapped and paranoid there. At least she wasn't under lock and key here. The bathroom didn't have any shampoo or conditioner so she used the tiny bar of soap provided to wash her hair as well her entire body, trying to wash her fear and confusion and pain down the drain along with her grime.

Once she felt sparkling clean, she dried herself off on one of the thin towels provided and pulled her clothes back on. They didn't have a brush with them so she dried her hair off on the towel and finger-combed it, trying to calm her nerves. She felt strangely jumpy at the prospect of going out to face Winter.

Finally, when she couldn't finger-comb her hair anymore (because it was completely tangle-free) to avoid him, she stepped out of the bathroom. Winter lay on his bed, his human arm flung across his eyes. His form was very still and she wondered if he was asleep. Well, at least they wouldn't have to discuss his random kiss if he was. His bag was on her bed so she walked over to it and tugged it open. His voice rose up behind her: "What are you doing?"

"Looking through the bag," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact and calm. He couldn't tell her no or boss her around anymore. They were partners in this now…even though he'd done essentially all the hard work. Still, it wasn't her fault she wasn't a trained assassin super-soldier.

She opened the bag and spilled the contents on her bed. Out came her bunched up clothes, a wallet, and his black combat clothes. She opened the wallet to see that it was stuffed with money, some random man's ID in the plastic pocket in the front. She frowned disapprovingly but didn't say anything. She didn't approve of stealing but they really had no choice right now. At least they were just stealing cash and not a credit card. She silently promised the poor man that she'd mail his wallet and ID back to him the first chance she got.

She picked up his combat gear and immediately dropped it. They were covered in grime and blood and smelled disgusting. Which made sense, considering he'd worn them for something like two weeks straight without taking any of it off. He'd sweated in these clothes, bled in them… And speaking of grossness… She turned and marched the full step over to Winter's bed and leaned over him and sniffed. Yep—he smelled gross. "Winter, you need to take a shower," she said. "It might help with your headache. But mostly because you smell rank."

He flung his arm off his eyes and squinted up at her. His expression still looked pained.

She threw her hands up defensively. "Sorry! No offense! But it's the truth. I mean, I smelled gross too, before I took a shower. So please take a shower. 'Cause if we have to stay in this room together, you have to smell normal."

He frowned as if he were going to argue but then he sighed and sat up, throwing her a dirty look and swiftly locking himself into the bathroom. She waited until she heard the sound of the shower running before she sat down on her bed and relaxed a fraction. The room was sticky with heat so she stood on her bed to yank the ceiling fan onto the highest speed…which wasn't very fast at all and only succeeding in stirring the hot air. Still, it was better than the still heat.

She put the wallet back into the canvas bag and then kicked their dirty clothes onto the floor and into a corner. Those would need to be washed before they left. There was a window on the right side of her bed and she sank down onto the bed to stare out it. The sun was a dying golden globe in the deep blue sky, setting the white and rust rooftops of the city on fire, bathing them in golden and orange light. She could see rooftop after rooftop, most of them at a lower height than their room, washing lines strung out over them, white clothes swaying in the barest evening summer breeze. The scene was somewhat melancholy but also beautiful and she felt peaceful for a few minutes.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed the sound of the shower turning off and Winter stepping back into the room. She heard his footsteps approaching her from behind and then he sank down onto the bed next to her. Thinking he meant to silently stare out the window with her, she didn't look at him. Then he lightly touched her shoulder and she turned—and he kissed her again. This was a different sort of kiss from before: where he had been rough and forceful before, now he was gentle and soft.

And just like before, Sophie first froze in shock. For one moment, her mouth tingled and she felt herself lean in towards him—but then her thoughts unfroze and she was able to think clearly. Seriously? AGAIN?! She leaned back with a gasp, scrambling backwards onto the bed, away from his reach. "Winter," she said, her voice shaking with anger, "can you please tell me what is wrong with you?"

His face looked shocked but he looked more shocked at himself than her reaction. "I thought—I thought if I did it differently, it would work," he muttered to himself.

"What would work?" Sophie cried, resisting the urge to pummel him. "Can you please tell me why the hell you keep kissing me? What is actually wrong with you?! You can't just—you can't just do things like that!"

"Why not?" he asked, a stubborn look in his eyes.

Sophie's cheeks felt hot and she felt her mouth tremble, almost as if she were about to cry. And then she realized with shock that she did feel like she was about to cry. The last time she had been kissed by someone other than Winter had been so long ago—and it had ended so disastrously. Why couldn't she ever be kissed by someone who meant it? Someone who liked her? Someone who wouldn't turn on her? "B-Because—because kisses mean something to me!" she said, trying to hold back her confused tears. "Maybe they don't to some people but they do to me! I don't just let anyone kiss me! They mean something to me!"

"They mean something to me, too," he said quietly.

She stared at him. "What?" He can't mean…can he?!

"They were…they were supposed to make it stop." He dropped his head into his hands and let out a groan. "And they didn't."

"Wait." She leaned forward, completely bewildered now. "You've been saying all this weird stuff and I don't understand any of it. Explain why you've kissed me twice today—because I swear, if there's a third time, I will murder you in your sleep."

He lifted his head to look at her and she swore she saw a faint smile on his face when he heard her threat. "When you…kissed me back at the Hydra base…it made the noises in my head go silent," he said quietly.

"The noises in your head?"

He nodded, suddenly looking very exhausted, his mouth a thin, flat line. "I've…they've been there for as long as I can…remember. Noises. Shouting. Sirens. People talking. My mind is a mess." He gave a bitter laugh. "And normally I tune them out or ignore them—sometimes they even help with my missions—but the sound in my head never really goes away. Maybe it's my memories. Maybe it's…something else. I don't know. But I always have a headache. I never get any peace. I'm never alone, without my thoughts. They're so loud they feel like screams and sirens. And when you kissed me…for the first time that I can remember, everything went quiet. For the first time, I felt something like peace. Calm."

He looked at her imploringly and it almost felt like he'd given a deep confession of love, so raw and unadulterated were the emotions on his face. He meant every word that he'd said—her kiss had affected him. She was so startled that she didn't know what to say. All she could do was stare at him, her heart pounding. "So then…?" she whispered, wanting him to continue.

He rubbed his eyes, still looking very tired. "So I thought…I thought maybe kissing you was the key to getting some peace. I don't know why. I don't know why you. But I thought… And my head was hurting so much today that I thought… So I tried to kiss you earlier. But it didn't work. I don't know why. And then I took a shower and I thought maybe I was too…forceful with you. Maybe I needed to be…" He hesitated. "Gentler. So I tried that. But it didn't work!" Anger flashed across his face and he looked like a broken man. "It didn't—it didn't do anything!"

"Winter," Sophie said quietly. "Maybe that's because you're forcing it."

He looked at her, confused.

"When I kissed you, it was a cover but it was so sudden and out of the blue, that maybe…your mind reacted as if it were a real kiss. After all, you didn't plan that kiss—it kind of just happened. But these times you tried to kiss me—you were forcing it. You psyched yourself up to do them, your mind knew they were coming and why you were doing it…and I guess it doesn't work that way. You can trick everyone in the world but you can't trick your own mind."

He looked disappointed. "So…it needs to be…spontaneous. And real."

"Possibly," she said softly.

"Which means I'm never going to have peace again," he said flatly. "Since no one would ever…" He angrily rubbed the bridge of his nose with his metal arm.

"I'm no psychologist," Sophie said just as softly, "but I suggest you try to find peace on your own, Winter. You can't force peace to come to you—that defeats the purpose of peace. And you can't wait for someone else to give it to you, you can't rely on someone else to give you peace. You need to find it yourself. And I know you can do that. You're away from Hydra. You know the truth about who you are. James Barnes. You know there's someone out there who used to be your best friend. You can find peace on your own and that's the real kind of peace." She hesitated, thinking back to the days—it felt so long ago but it had been recently, she was surprised to realize—when she'd been afraid of everything and everyone. Afraid to take risks and open up to people. She thought she'd been fine being alone but now she realized that she hadn't been at peace with herself or her abilities at all. She felt more at peace with herself, as a person, sitting here in Brazil with an assassin...than she ever had her whole life. And she'd done it all by herself. This was what he needed to find.

"Trust me," she said quietly. "Take it from someone who's done it. You can find peace on your own."

He didn't argue but his expression still looked troubled.

"And no more kissing me out of the blue," she added severely, even though her heart felt a little strange when she said that. The truth was…despite the surprise of his kisses…they'd felt sort of…enjoyable. She couldn't believe it but it was true: she'd felt something spark inside her when he touched her. But she could never tell him that, because he'd only kissed her for his own personal reasons; he had no feelings for her. She couldn't expect him to have feelings for her, after everything he'd been through. It would be entirely selfish of her.

She was nothing more than a partner to him. And she was okay with that.

So why did everything inside her feel so heavy?

He gave her a faint smile and said, "Okay. Sorry about that."

"Also…about your name…I know I've been calling you Winter but—but what do you think about me calling you James?" she asked timidly. He stiffened at the sound of his real name and she barreled on. "I just think it suits you more. You're the Winter Soldier—but you're a lot more than that." She hesitated. "You're James Barnes—and it suits you. You look like a James."

"What does a James look like?"

"I think they normally have dark hair," she teased, trying to lighten the mood. She was pleased to see his mouth lift at the corner a bit. "So I thought…if it was okay with you…I would call you that. Maybe it'd help to make you feel more like yourself. Recover more memories from your past."

He was silent and still for so long that she began to wonder if he'd heard her last words at all—but then he quietly said, "Okay. I'm…James."

"Yes, you are," she said. "Nice to meet you. I'm…Sophie." Feeling emboldened by the success of her request, she stuck her hand out to him. He stared at it for a long moment, as if he'd never shaken someone's hand before, and then he tentatively held his hand out and she grabbed it and shook it. His grip was firm, his skin warm, and a sudden tingle ran up Sophie's arm at his touch. She snatched her hand away and judging by his shocked expression, he'd felt the same odd spark.

I am in so many different kinds of trouble.

Sophie had an odd feeling that as strange as her life had already become, it was about to become a whole lot stranger.