0600 HOURS | SEPTEMBER 13, 2014 | THESSALONIKI, GREECE
At precisely six in the morning, Rhiannon's phone alarm roused her from sleep. The same time it did every morning on a weekday for work and every other Saturday. Because today was the day. The trip north. And she would've been lying if she wasn't worried about how the day would pan out.
Every other trip had gone flawlessly. A nice and peaceful morning drive followed by an equally pleasant morning hike through pristine Grecian forests and hills. But then again none of the other trips had her bringing along a passenger. She'd play it by ear, but if James started getting antsy, she may end up having to spill all her beans a bit earlier than she had planned to.
As she stepped out into the main room, half living room and half kitchen, she was more than a little surprised to find James sitting at the breakfast bar sipping on a mug of coffee. The pot under the coffee maker was full, except for one mug's worth, so he must've brewed it himself not too long ago.
He'd never done that before.
Every other morning she'd woken to find him on the couch, nearly in the exact same position she'd left him the previous evening, usually either writing, reading or staring off into the middle distance. The change was unsettling, but in a good way, if that made any sort of logical sense.
"You made coffee," she said, half statement and half question, as she walked by to fetch her own mug from the cabinet. James gave her a hum of affirmation, but was otherwise occupied with his drink and watching her over the rim. With her mug full, doctored to be light and sweet as she always drank it, she leant back against the countertop and met his stare.
"Today's the day. You ready?" she asked after a hefty swig of coffee, watching James avidly for any sign that he was unprepared for the day's events. But he looked no different than usual. The shoulder length brown hair, the scruff of thick stubble, the straight nose and heavy brows with those bright blue-gray eyes underneath. A pale coloring only made that much brighter and more striking by the unfortunately dark circles underneath them.
It was clear that he still hadn't been sleeping much. He was always awake when she went to bed and he was always awake when she woke up. She made due with six hours most nights, so he was clearly getting far less than that, if any at all.
He took another sip before he gave a resolute nod of his head and she took that as a yes.
"Good. Big day. Gotta eat, shower and finish packing up, so we can be on the road for 0700," she announced, already running through the route they'd be taking northward and planning for possible detours should anything go awry. "You want anything specific for breakfast?" He only shrugs his broad shoulders, same as always when she asks, because he doesn't seem to care what she makes. Everything she'd made – what with her being a fairly decent cook – he's eaten it all without a single complaint and in tremendous serving sizes that were putting her appetite to shame.
"Alright. Well, we've still got plenty of eggs, veg, meat and cheese. How 'bout omelets?"
"Sure," he says, gulping down the last of his coffee and setting the mug down with a clink against the faux-granite countertops, before getting up out of the barstool. "Gunna shower."
"Okay. You do that and I'll get this going," she said, turning her back as he grabbed his backpack up off the floor next to the couch and vanished into the bathroom.
The morning went smoothly from there. Rhiannon cooked in a frenzy and when James had returned from the shower only a few minutes later they ate in hasty silence. Then it was her turn, after the dishes had been washed, to shower and gathered her belongings. She scrubbed down fast, with practiced efficiency born of routine. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shave a little, rinse off and done. She toweled dry and then wiggled into her clothes – underwear, sports bra, socks, jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt – before brushing both her hair and teeth as quickly as she could.
She emerged clean and bustled into her bedroom to lace up her boots and grab her own bag, which she had intelligently taken the time to pack the previous night. After making sure that everything she might need was packed, Rhiannon snagged her data knife and P2016 from the nightstand. The knife was slid into a secondary holster looped into her belt, a more secure place than in her boot, and the gun was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. For now. She'd have to move it somewhere else once they were in the car.
She had no doubts that James was arming himself similarly.
It was in their nature.
And then she was ready to go, grabbing her car keys, phone and wallet before motioning for James to fall in behind her as she opened the door. She locked it behind her and then they were off, both moving quick and quiet to the side stairs, going down and around towards the parking lot. But as they walked, she couldn't help but notice James' slight change of wardrobe. It seemed to her that James was actively concerned about being recognized because he had a baseball cap atop his head and wore black gloves on both of his hands.
The gloves she could understand, but was the hat really necessary?
Even as they got into her SUV, he was still acting twitchy, scanning their pre-dawn surroundings from beneath the hat's brim for any signs of suspicious activity.
"Signal's still being jammed, by the way. The jammer is in my bag," she said as she pulled out her gun and set it in the cupholders, feigning a sense of nonchalance, but hoping to calm him down a bit with the information. It seemed to work as his shoulders relaxed and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes as she started the car. "Got no reason to be so on edge. And anyways, I think between the two of us we could handle just about anything, don't you think?"
He snorted, though Rhiannon was unsure if it was in agreement or not. She had to remind herself that besides the fight on the pier and their scuffle Wednesday night the two of them really didn't know each other's full capabilities. But perhaps, if all went well that maybe that would change. She could use a sparring partner of comparable skill. Someone to challenge her and keep her at her best.
God, knows that living the civvie life wasn't doing her any fucking favors and she didn't make enough to even try to get a gym membership somewhere. She was barely making enough to pay her rent and keep the both of them fed on a daily basis.
No. The fitness aspect was only an added bonus to all of these secret weekend trips. Everyone she interacted with on a daily basis, mostly her coworkers, thought she was visiting a rural monastery. Seeking enlightenment or some sort of inner peace from a rough and traumatic past. But that was a lie. Well… Mostly. But it provided her with a little less than two days where she could work herself over hard to refresh all of her memories about the hardcore badass that she had been trained to be.
They wound their way through the mostly empty morning streets, Rhiannon offering James control over the radio to keep him occupied, before hitting the northbound highway without any difficulties at all. Her chosen and practiced route avoided any tolls, for obvious reasons, and would take approximately fifty or so minutes going north and then east to reach the town of Sochos and then another forty minutes northward into Dimosio Dasos Flamouriou. It was there, hidden away deep within that maze-like series of sloping hills and dense forest, that their end goal awaited.
But not all things were seamless and perfect.
As the sun rose and the rest of the world woke and got on with their day the vehicle density on the highway grew. A fact which had both Rhiannon and James' paranoia and tactical awareness kicking into high gear. Nothing thankfully came of it all, but James still kept a persistent eye on their surroundings and the both of them eyed up any car, van or truck that came within twenty meters of their vehicle. And it was in that manner that the first leg of their trip passed by. A tense pseudo-silence, only accompanied by the rumble of the engine, the hum of the radio and the sounds of their own breathing.
At five after eight they rolled into Sochos, which put them right on schedule. As they drove through the town, Rhiannon did her best to remember where a grocery store was. Somewhere small and out of the way, but halfway decent, and most importantly somewhere she hadn't gone before. She needed some supplies. Would've needed to do it anyways, but with James coming and staying for at least the day she would definitely be needing more food. Canned stuff, non-perishables and the like. Things that would keep for a good long while and could be easily stored on site.
"Gotta get more food," she said as they pulled into park next to a suitable store. "You wanna get out and stretch for a minute?"
"Sure," he unexpectedly agreed as she wiggled forward in her seat to slide her gun back into her pants. For a few moments she just sat there and looked at him, a raised eyebrow making her question about his current state of mind blatantly obvious. "I'm fine."
"Alright. If you say so," she said with a shrug as she got out of the car, snagging a shopping basket before heading into the store with her big and tall shadow tailing at her heels. "If you spot something you want just grab it. I don't mind."
Rhiannon strolled through the aisles and perused the shelves with a fine-toothed comb for things that would make a half decent meal that she didn't already have. Beans, olives, pickles, tomatoes, pasta, peaches, a couple loaves of bread and jarred fruit preserves. As the two walked through the coolers at the back, she was surprised when James stopped at one of them and pulled out a small case of beer at random.
"Oh, hell yeah," she quietly cheered. "Why didn't I think of that?" A wide grin broke out of her face until she read the label of the beer he'd selected. "Oh no. Not that kind." She gestured to another box. "Get that one. The green with the unicorn."
He huffed, looking amused by her insistence rather than annoyed, but did ask she asked anyways and tucked the correct case under his right arm. From there they made their way to the front counter and Rhiannon gave the cashier – a portly, middle-aged woman – a warm smile in greeting as she set her basket down.
"Taxidévete?" the woman asked, in Greek, as she began to ring the groceries into the register. For some reason, perhaps due to her tanned complexion, most Greeks she met seemed to think she was at least partially one as well. And while Rhiannon was in no way perfectly fluent with the native language, she had learned more than enough in the past months to carry on a decent conversation.
"Naí. Kámpin'nk me ton fílo mou," she replied, gesturing with her shoulder and turning to give James an affectionate smile, as one would towards their significant other, which he matched with practiced ease.
Dammit, it always took her by surprise to once again realize that he was ridiculously handsome.
But still it came at as a great shock that he had so easily reciprocated and corroborated her lie. Rhiannon had half expected him to look upset or absolutely clueless. But no, he clearly had some knowledge of the language and had understood what she had said perfectly.
Maybe it had been part of his training?
The woman smiled brightly, waving James forward so that she could scan the barcode on the case of beer, before totaling up their purchase. Rhiannon handed over the necessary cash without a fuss and as she leaned slightly forward to receive the change the older woman gave her a devious smile, flickering eyes back towards the man standing behind her.
"Tycheró korítsi," she murmured secretively from behind that too wide grin. "Eínai polý ómorfos."
Rhiannon's cheeks flushed hotly, but it wasn't like she could deny the woman's accurate assessment. Finding herself unable to formulate a proper reply, she reached out to collect their bags of groceries before being interrupted by an outstretched arm, which grabbed one of the bags, and a voice that was becoming rather familiar to her.
"Óchi. Eímai o tycherós," James said, giving the cashier woman a smaller smile of his own. They left shortly thereafter, heartfelt well wishes for a nice weekend coming from behind them, and made their way back to the SUV. Opening the trunk, they deposited the grocery bags and Rhiannon couldn't help but turn to give James an incredulous look.
"What the hell was that about?"
"Only dishing it back, doll," he shot back, a huff of breath escaping him as he slammed the trunk closed and they moved back to slide into the front seats and situated themselves once more. But apparently, he wasn't done talking quite yet as she backed up and pulled out into the early morning traffic. "But really? Camping with your boyfriend? That was the best you could come up with?"
"Yes, that was the best I could come up with," she barked as she followed the signs for the road leading straight north. "The weather is still warm so camping isn't out of the question. We look nothing alike so we couldn't be related and there aren't any rings on our fingers so we can't be married. Why? You got a problem with being my fake boyfriend for less than a minute?"
He didn't seem to have a response to that, turning his head away and looking out the window instead, and an awkward silence followed. Within a couple of minutes, they were out of the town and on the winding road that would bring them into the forested depths of Dimosio Dasos Flamouriou. Shoving her irrational irritation with James' peculiar behavior away, she focused on the events of the near future.
"Got about half an hour on this road before we turn off and head west for another twenty," she began, outlining their route. "Lots of side roads to navigate to get to the place where we've gotta stash the car. From there it's about another forty minutes or so by foot to where we're headed."
"Pretty remote," he said. "Where exactly are we headed to meet with this friend of yours?"
"You're fuckin' chatty today, aren't you?"
He seemed unimpressed with her reply.
"Fine, fine." She took a deep breath and figured that now was as good a time as any to give a brief overview of her general situation. "Yeah… So, about eight months ago my partner and I were sent out on an op. Normal shit for us. Covert infil, data retrieval, force elimination, etcetera. We hit our target, like we were supposed to, got almost everything squared away but then a bump in the road came up. Bad guys had unearthed a bit of foreign tech. HQ decided we had to take it too, so we did. But our exfil ended up turning real bad real quick and before we could do anything – boom – we're crash landing in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. So, that's where we're going. The crash site."
She gave him a few moments to digest.
"But you're from the future? And outer space?" he asked, seeming to be trying his best to put together the mangled mess of puzzle pieces she'd given him so far. A moment of pause before he leans forward slightly and blurts out, "Are you an alien?"
Rhiannon barked out a sharp laugh, almost losing herself in a fit of laughter, but restraining herself to snickering under her breath from the driver's side. Oh, that was too funny! Of all the questions he could've asked it had to be that one.
"No," she said, her ire from before washed away with her sudden good humor. "Definitely not an alien. I'm just as human as you are, James. It's the future, remember? Humanity branches out from Earth and establishes hundreds of colony worlds across of the Core and then even further out into the Frontier. I was born out there. On one the Frontier planets… Harmony."
She reminisces fondly of home, a planet she hadn't seen in nearly a year now, while James settled back into the passenger seat and sinks into his own thoughts. Several minutes pass by in a heavy silence, no longer awkward, but still weighed down with the unusual subject matter of their conversation.
"And your partner?" he asks once the silence had lingered too long.
"Eh, well… He's not so human," she hedges before deciding to just jump right in and hope for the best. "He's a robot, actually. A Titan. Nearly seven meters and forty tons of bipedal heavy weapons platform. Like the two-legged lovechild of an MBT and a super-computer."
Hitting a smooth section between all of the road's twists and turns, Rhiannon chanced a glance over at her passenger to gauge his reaction to her admission. He seemed to be taking it well enough, as in he wasn't looking at her in outright disbelief or reverted back to that cold, hard mask from those first couple of days. It was more of a bit of latent surprise that was rapidly fading into something more like acceptance, perhaps even a bit of an eager sparkle in those steely blue-grays of his.
"But you'll be meeting him soon enough. He stays with the dropship, for obvious reasons."
James hummed in response and the rest of their drive was spent in a peaceful lull of conversation. It was just in time too as Rhiannon was forced to pay far greater attention to the roads and scenery around them. She may have been made this trip a dozen and a half times or so, but if she took one wrong turn then it'd be a nightmare to get back on the right track again. She spotted her turn off from the main road, transitioning from north to heading westbound.
They drove onwards, all alone on the roads without any other vehicle anywhere in their vicinity. Just as planned, after taking two rights and one particularly sharp left, Rhiannon pulled off of the road when the road came to an abrupt dead end. There was a perfectly sized hiding spot nestled just beyond a dense patch of thicket which was exactly where she planned to park her SUV. And so, she did.
The two got out, gathering their bags from the backseats before meeting at the trunk.
"Here," she said, beginning to transfer over the groceries into a larger duffle bag, but pointing out a camouflage tarpaulin and a canvas bag full of bungee cords to James. "Take that, please. Start pulling it over the car and tie down the edges nice and tight." He did so, and after the food was packed, she went and helped to spread it over the SUV and hook the bungees between the eyelets and the undercarriage.
She'd lost one tarp already to sudden and unexpected Grecian weather changes. But she'd gotten lucky so far this time. The ground was dry and hardpacked from infrequent rain so that any tire tracks they may have left were all but invisible and the forecast for the weekend was also promising. No serious storms and comfortably warm temperatures for both days.
After buckling the chest straps on her backpack – listening in as James did likewise – Rhiannon hefted the duffle's thick straps over her shoulder. It would be an awkward hike with this much gear, far more than her usual kit for the trip, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She was used to traveling light. But maybe she'd get lucky and James would pony up and take the bag for a spell when she got sick of it?
"You green?" she asked, looking between him and the lush vegetation around them and listening to the natural ambience. The temperate breeze rustling the branches and leaves. The songbirds chirping and small mammals scuttling about their business in the brush.
"Yeah," he said, looking and listening to everything just as she was. "Good to go."
"Alright. Let's hoof it."
They made quick tracks into the forest, following the paths carved by the wildlife for a short time before breaking off to head north-west on a more direct route. At times, Rhiannon could barely even hear James walking behind her – even with her aural implants – his footsteps so precisely placed and light-footed that not even twigs broke under them. She could be that quiet if she put conscious effort into it, but the fact that he could be that silent without any conscious effort…
Damn, she might even be a little bit jealous.
Nearly forty minutes into the hike, just past nine-forty and right on time with her travel schedule, they were making their way up the last hill between them and the crash site. It was a steep gradient and a fair bit of exercise for her legs, but once they crested the hill there would be ample evidence of the crash landing. She'd controlled it as best she could at the time, but they'd still smashed countless trees and dug a nice and deep trench into the soil. At the top of the hill she came to a stop, James doing the same on her right, and looked down into the narrow valley.
"Nice crash," he commented wryly, surveying the damage first hand in the mid-morning sun.
And from their perch they could see it all.
A thirty-meter-wide swath of forest had been violently knocked down and extended from east to west for a good two hundred meters. And at the end of the trench, more than two thirds buried beneath a pile of dirt and debris, was the dropship. A beast of a thing and one of the first of her kind. They had left it buried for good measure – if fact she and her partner had even piled on more debris – so as to hide it from prying eyes. The only part that was uncovered was the ass-end and the cargo door to the lower deck. But by some miracle, the crash hadn't actually caused too much damage to the ship itself. Most of it was only cosmetic or to non-essential systems that she did not have the resources to fix.
She hummed in sad agreement. "Yeah. Not my best work, I'll admit. But it could've been much, much worse," she admitted, shifting to turn and face him head-on. "You still good?" If he wasn't ready, they could spend a bit of time up here on the hill. It was a good spot with a nice view, provided you didn't look down into the valley. They could sit and take a break. Get a drink and have a snack. Give him the chance to get his head back on straight.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured and she squinted her eyes at him slightly, trying to gauge if he was telling her the truth or just paying lip service. He looked no different than usual, still with those bright eyes and that strong stubbled jawline, only perhaps a bit shiny from natural occurring perspiration brought about by the hike. But his eyes seemed far lighter, not in coloring but in weight, than previous days.
Except for perhaps those few hours where he had had a lap full of squirming, joyous canine.
Taking him at his word, Rhiannon shifted the duffle on her shoulder to settle it back into place before beginning to pick her way down the slope with James following in her wake. The ground was slightly unstable beneath their booted feet, the dirt and gravel loose and shifting under their weight, but they made good time down. Soon enough they were jumping over the lip of the trench, a three-meter drop that they both made with practiced ease. Her seasoned legs were used to further drops than that, even without her jump kit, and his enhancements definitely made him at least as tough as she was.
The cargo door to the lower deck was right there, less than a stone's throw away, and she found herself nearly jittery for the introduction that was about to take place. If anything, it was sure to be interesting.
As if on cue the door groaned open with the standard sound of hydraulic decompression and there he was. Her mechanized partner. Her digital best friend. Her neurally linked brother. Her bouncing baby boy, who just so happened to regularly carry enough ordinance to level a small city. Her Titan.
"Honey, I'm home!" Rhiannon sang merrily as she skipped forward, all but forgetting the weight of the two bags on her back and the mentally-unstable super-assassin she had left in her dust. Two weeks always ended up feeling like too long for her to be separated from him, but reality was a bitch. She had needed money to survive and therefore had to go and mingle with the public. Every day posed a very real danger. Every time she stepped out her door, she ran the risk of the truth somehow being discovered for what and who she really way. She would've much rathered live like a little hermit lady in the woods, but that just wasn't going to work in the real world.
Girl's gotta eat, after all.
"Pilot Lastimosa, you are sixteen minutes and twenty-four seconds over your average arrival time," the lumbering giant admonishes, about as disapproving and disappointed sounding as an incredibly deep and masculine, emotionless robotic voice could possibly sound. "You are late."
"Oh! Come on, Rome!" Rhiannon whined in false protest. "I had to go grocery shopping. The ten minutes I spent at the store shouldn't count. And don't be like that in front of our guest. It's rude."
"Apologies," he grumbled, but sounded far from apologetic. She ignored it, promising a bit of minor retribution somewhere down the line, in favor of doing her best to facilitating proper introductions between her Titan and James.
"Fine, fine. Now introduce yourself." She waved a hand at their guest and waited with bated breath.
James Buchanan Barnes would never admit – even to himself – that he froze a little under this newfound scrutiny. But he supposed it was a mostly understandable reaction after being pinned down beneath the singular, glowing blue, digital eyeball of a giant robot. A giant robot that probably could turn him into a smear of red on the ground in a fraction of a second. Far faster than even he could possibly react to. But the remnants of his retained humanity – that tiny shred of who he might've once been and who he might've slowly been becoming once again – was utterly enthralled.
Unnerved and a bit terrified, as well. But mostly enthralled.
He could remember always acing his numbers and science tests in school and HYDRA hadn't really been slouches when they'd taken the time to educate their premier weapon. James knew he was a fairly intelligent person. You had to be to calculate sniping trajectories from obscene distances while adding in wind resistance, bullet curve and a host of other possible factors.
He was a smart cookie, as he might've once claimed, and he liked science quite a bit. Loved it, actually. It was more than half of the reason he'd dragged Stevie and those two nameless dames to that fancy Expo on a date. And yes, he'd remembered that too.
He'd remember a lot of things in those quiet hours he'd been left alone in the apartment.
But now wasn't the time to be losing himself in his memories. In this moment, he just wanted to focus on the here and now. To focus all of his attention only on the present. On the benevolent and beautiful woman, who had lit up with radiant joy as soon as that cargo door had lowered itself, and on the mechanical marvel that was standing less than thirty feet away from him.
Somewhere between twenty and twenty-two feet, he hazarded, which was accurate with Rhiannon's claims of it being nearly seven meters tall. Surprisingly agile-looking and articulate limbs, two legs and two arms, attached to a mostly rectangular central chassis. Every inch of the Titan that wasn't meant for movement was covered in thick armor plating. The primary coloring of the armor was a dark and verdant green, what the general public might qualify as hunter green, while the accent colors were a rich goldenrod yellow, a pristine white that wasn't quite so pristine any longer and a brown so dark that just as easily could have been black. Even scattered all over the main body were logos, decals, numbers and letters that clearly had some level of importance.
Identification or decoration?
"I am RA-5172," the robot said, looking down at him with that singular eye that flashed in time with its voice. "A Vanguard-class Titan of the Frontier Militia's Special Recon Squadron. Marauder Corps."
He opened his mouth, preparing himself to introduce himself to his very first robot, but before he could even speak one word it stepped even closer and slid into a crouch with the hissing of hydraulics. And then the Titan spoke once more, toneless and in such a deeply masculine voice, making such a blunt announcement of facts that he didn't think it should've known. Facts that had his body locking up and his mind racing, the familiar sensation of a panic attack creeping up his spine.
"Introduction unnecessary. Facial recognition and genetic scan complete. Identity confirmed. You are James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10th, 1917. Former Sergeant in the United States Army's 107th Infantry Regiment. Former member of the special combat unit known as the Howling Commandos under the purview of the Scientific Strategic Reserve. Currently associated with the terrorist organization, HYDRA, and operating under the callsign Winter Soldier. Officially declared wanted by dozens of national governments on multiple counts of homicide and a possible conviction of war crimes."
His ears were ringing. Like the deafening drone after a close-range flashbang.
It knew who he was. He should've known that a super-computer from the future would've been able to find out who he had been and who he had become. And now Rhiannon knew too. She would hate him. She would judge him, see all of the blood on his hands, and toss him to the wolves. Any second now she would let loose. Maybe, if he was lucky, she'd just shoot him herself, then and there. Or even choose to set her Titan on him.
At least it would be a quick death. She didn't seem the type to draw it out. She wasn't cruel.
She wasn't a murderer like him.
In that moment, which could've possibly lasted seconds or even minutes, James spent all of it lost in his head while his body was thrumming with a sudden surge of adrenaline. The powerful fight or flight instinct rising up to the forefront of his physiological responses and warring against itself.
Rhiannon knew the moment James had taken a turn for the worst. His eyes had gone wide and the blood had drained from his face, leaving him with an almost sickly pallor underneath his baseball cap. She swore, loudly, and dropped the duffle bag at Rome's feet – giving her Titan a swift kick in the leg for good measure – before trying to figure out how to work damage control. Every other time James had lost himself like this it had been in the safety of the apartment, a small space where she could keep the situation contained. But out here in the open, if he made a break for it, she wasn't certain she could match him without her kit.
And letting him run off in this state was dangerous. To others and himself.
And so, like approaching a frightened animal, she moved slowly and spoke softly, even if she was nearly one hundred percent positive that he couldn't hear her right then. With her first step into his line of sight his eyes locked onto her, startled and flickering between panic and a chilling sort of blankness. With her hands coming up, empty and open-palmed like they had been on the pier, she began to try and talk him down.
"Easy, James," she assured. "I know it was tough to hear all that, but we don't care what you've done. Everything you did for HYDRA was under duress and not of your own volition. I know that and deep down I know that you know that too. I just need you to calm down and breathe. You don't need to run. We're not going to attack you. I promise."
Of all the ways she had hoped this trip would've gone, this was not it. But optimism only gets you so far, after all. Though if she was going to be entirely honest, in a way she was a little glad to have more intel about her guest. She'd be operating with less than stellar amounts of information. Only knowing his first name, his enhanced status and the general knowledge about big, bad HYDRA and the fact that he had been under their control?
Yeah, definitely way less info than she normally would have been comfortable with. But she had seen something in him. Something that she could not have ignore for the life of her.
After three repetitions of her hopefully soothing message, assurances of his safety and their lack of care for the crimes he had committed, she had closed the gap and James seemed to be calming. It would've been poor manners and hypocritical to judge him for his uncontrollable past. In the eyes of trillions, she was nothing but a bloodthirsty, murderous terrorist. A deranged and uncontrollable animal that wanted nothing more than to kill every citizen of the Core Worlds.
And that just wasn't true at all.
She just wanted freedom for her people. And slowly but surely, she was beginning to see James as one of her own. Maybe even a friend. But either way, he was someone she felt duty-bound to help.
In a fit of momentary insanity, Rhiannon reached out and lay her palms ever so gently on James' tense shoulders. She could feel the disparity between warm, smooth human skin and the rough line of scar tissue where the prosthetic must've been attached to his body. She squeezed ever so slightly – a comforting gesture, she hoped – and looked up beneath the shadowed brim of his hat.
"I've told you – I've promised you, again and again, that you are safe with me," she said, staring him down unflinchingly, gray-green versus blue-gray, and trying her best to drill this simple fact into his thick skull. The time for gentleness had passed. Now it was time for a bit of tough-love. "So, you pull yourself out of that pit of doubt, fear and panic inside your head, James Barnes, and get back on your fucking feet. HYDRA isn't getting you back. Ever. Not on my watch. So, we're gunna go into the ship and I'm going to get that tracker out of your damn arm. And then – if you want to take back some control over your life – you and me and Rome are going to hunt down the bastards that fucked you over for decades. We're gunna hunt 'em down, we're gunna kill 'em, we're going to burn their whole entire organization down to the ground and we're going to destroy anything that would ever allow them or anyone else to control you again."
Rhiannon finished her impromptu speech, her voice having gotten far louder than she had meant it to get, and nearly panting for breath in response to her sudden bout of fervor.
She did not expect to be roughly pulled into a nearly bone-crushing embrace.
Wrapped up in contrasting arms of overly warm flesh and cold, unbending metal, only muted in sensation by the clothes that they both wore. His head canted down and buried into the meat of her shoulder with deep shuddering gasps for air puffing against the exposed skin of her neck. And she instinctually returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing as tight as she could.
She wouldn't give up on him and she wouldn't allow him to give up on himself either.
He deserved his freedom just as much as anyone else did.