Disclaimer: I own nothing Captain America-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking Marvel to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's the next chapter! Enjoy, and please don't forget to review! Thanks!

Chapter 4: Becoming a SHIELD Asset:

It hadn't been easy, spinning a lie for her folks, but then, they were so thrilled that she had found a nice, good-paying job in New York, they probably didn't care that her 'cover story' of working for the IRS had a few holes in it. They didn't even argue when she said that she started this week, and was moving there as soon as possible.

Yes, her parents thought she was going to work at a government field office in the city where the infamous Battle of New York had taken place. Anna had told them that she would be shuffling through mountains of government paperwork, mostly money claims from folks who had lost businesses and such during the Battle. She would get good pay, benefits, and live in a good part of the city, so there'd be nothing to worry about.

'Ha, nothing to worry about,' Anna sarcastically thought as she walked through the halls in her new home.

The house was a building owned by SHIELD, and one that hadn't been on any of the documents leaked to the Internet. According to all legal and public documents, this building was owned by a legitimate corporation overseas, and had nothing to do with SHIELD.

Anna's move here had been carried out so fast, it was almost a blur. A truck with six movers appeared three days after Anna had accepted her new job. They'd brought packing materials right up to her door, and faster than she had thought possible, they began asking what she wanted to take with her and what she wanted put into storage.

After she had quickly answered their questions, the movers proceeded to wrap up all of the items in her apartment, leaving what would go with her and hauling away what she wanted stored. Her mind still spinning in confusion, she was astonished when a smaller moving truck pulled up with three different movers, this time to take her things to her new home. With it came a large SUV, which would be her ride, and Agent Romanoff, who would be her (armed) escort.

As this organized chaos swirled around her, Anna was thankful that she'd already talked to her parents about her move, otherwise they might have thought she'd up and vanished. She'd also left a quick note inside the Smith's apartment, letting them know what had happened, and that she had slipped their spare key through the mail slot in their door (which she did).

Then came the road-trip to New York.

If Anna had to be honest, it hadn't been that long of a trip; a few days, total, and in a rather comfortable SUV with soft leather seats, so that she could curl up in the backseat and sleep while Natasha drove, nonstop, to their destination. Her escort wouldn't talk to her, but Anna had her phone to keep herself entertained, so it wasn't so bad.

Her arrival in The Big Apple occurred on the third day of travel, and it took a lot to keep her eyes inside her head. New York was a huge, bustling city several times bigger than any she'd ever been in, and watching the sights pass by was a bit much for her small-town brain.

Her new residence was a house at the edge of the city, an area that wasn't quite the suburbs, but not middle-of-nowhere. Instead of being pressed against each other, the homes had a fair bit of space between one another, though there wasn't much of a yard in the front or the back. It was one of those neighborhoods where people kept to themselves if they wanted to, and weren't thought "odd" or "distant" for not interacting with, and being close to, the people living around them.

For Anna, it was a good location. In theory, if she wanted and if she was allowed to head out into the world, she could take a bus or train. There was no car assigned to her, which Anna guessed was also out of Phil Coulson's budget, so she was glad to the access to public transportation.

But while she couldn't complain about the location, the interior of the place left a lot to be desired.

Anna was, by all means, a huge fan of colors, art, and decorating. This place was as bare and stark as anyone could imagine a place to be, and it went against everything she adored. She had to admit that it was well-furnished and looked like it had been recently painted, but everything was either white or beige. It was very boring.

This, of course, meant that only half of her brain was listening to Natasha, while the other half tried to decide which of her precious possessions would go where, in order to brighten up the place. Anna only came back to herself when she felt Natasha slap her hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her arm. "What was that for?"

"You weren't listening," Natasha calmly replied. "This is important."

Anna quickly squashed the decorating plans forming in her head and focused on the deadly woman before her, fully chastised. She should have known better, and was disappointed in herself for not staying focused.

Once Natasha was sure of her attention, she started again. "I know that much of your family has grown up with stories about Captain America, and about some of his past. I also know that some of the soldiers he saved, and who worked with him, told your grandmother and great-grandmother about things he did and who else he worked with, so you're more familiar with him than most people in the world are."

Anna nodded, wondering where she was going with this. Did the man she was supposed to be helping have something to do with the Captain?

"Are you familiar with a man named James Buchanan Barnes?" Natasha asked, studying Anna's face very closely.

Now, that name did sound familiar. It took a minute for Anna to go back through the dozens of stories that her mom and grandmother had told her over the years, but eventually, she found it. The young man had been called "Bucky" back then, and had been Captain America's closest friend until he'd fallen to his death on a mission in Europe.

Anna's brain ground to a halt. "Wait. Are you saying that the guy I'm supposed to help is Captain America's best friend, a man who died over seventy years ago?"

At Natasha's amused glare, Anna sighed. "Okay, I know the Captain was declared dead, but he had that super-serum in him to keep him from dying. How the hell did Bucky Barnes survive that fall?"

"HYDRA," Natasha said, a shadow forming in her eyes. "They're a lot like the Nazis during WWII, in that they want to take over the world and make it over according to their own desires. In fact, they were formed by the Nazis.

"To cut the whole matter short, they got hold of Barnes early in the war, and performed experiments on him until the Captain rescued him. We're guessing that they gave him their own version of the super-serum, and that's what saved him from death after his fall."

It took a second for Anna to follow that line of thought. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that HYDRA found him not long after that fateful day."

Natasha nodded. "They brainwashed and experimented on him again, eventually turning him into a killer known as The Winter Soldier. He became their best assassin, and has performed numerous kills over the decades. His memories only started flooding back after he tried to assassinate Captain Rogers, and Rogers called Barnes by his nickname from the past.

"During the fight in D.C., the Winter Soldier, as he was called, began to remember tiny bits and pieces of his life. He even went to the Smithsonian for information, but it wasn't enough. He wants to remember things from the 1940's, and unlock whatever memories are still there, to get back some of the man he used to be. He knows he'll never fully be Bucky Barnes again, but if there's a chance he can recover a little of that former life, he wants to try."

"But I'm not psychiatrist," Anna protested, wringing her hands in panic. "That's what he needs now, more than ever! Or if he doesn't want to see a shrink, he should at least try and hook up with Captain Rogers. At least he could help jog the guy's memories!"

"Both of those ideas could go two ways," Natasha told her. "A psychiatrist could help, but he or she might start asking questions that Barnes might not be able to answer, either because he doesn't know how, or have the patience to. That could lead to him having problems with his temper."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Anna retorted impatiently. "How am I supposed to help someone who has no idea who he is and has in fact lost most of his humanity?"

Natasha looked her dead in the eyes, the coldness of her expression freezing Anna where she stood. "What he needs is someone to be there for him; a nice, normal person who can ease him into a steady way of life. He might even talk to you about his feelings, thoughts, and perhaps nightmares, which is what he also needs. Just try to set up a routine for him, talk to him about anything except killing people, and try to get him to remember his past. Don't push too much; just try and be gentle when it counts, and if he loses his temper, walk away and lock yourself in your room until you think he's calmed down."

"How is locking myself in my room going to help?" Anna huffed, her hands waving frantically towards the upstairs. "He's a trained assassin!"

The redhead shrugged. "The room is reinforced on levels a normal one isn't. He shouldn't be able to break through, unless he's in a major killing rage."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You mean like the Hulk?"

Natasha's eyes turned shadowy again. "No; I don't think anyone could turn out like the Hulk when they're in a violent mood."

Deciding that the Hulk was a bad line of conversation to continue on, Anna tried to stay on topic. "So if things go bad, I hide out in my room until I feel safe to come out, or until he apologizes?"

At Natasha's nod, Anna stood and fumed. "Well, that's just great. Why did you guys decide to pick me again?"

"Because you're a good person we know we can trust with this," Natasha reminded her. "And because Barnes feels that he is less inclined to harm a female when he loses his temper. Something inside him wants someone who will probably have more sympathy and a gentler touch."

That made no sense in Anna's mind, but if he felt he wouldn't hurt her, then she might be able to have faith in that. "But how am I going to defend myself if things go bad?" she meekly asked, fear turning her insides to jelly.

"You don't," Natasha quietly told her. "You aren't a target for him; you're going to be his friend and companion. If you try and fight, he's going to want to fight back. If things get rough, you can try and calm him down; however, if that fails, get to your room. There's an escape latch on the window with an escape ladder that you can unroll and use to get out, if you need to."

Anna followed her gaze to a door at the rear of the house. "That's a back pantry with a window that leads out to the side yard. That window also has an emergency latch, so that you can get out in a hurry. If you need it, there's a stash of money and a cell phone under the top drawer in your bedside table nearest the window. There's another stash under the bottom shelf in the pantry, closest to the window.

Natasha reached into her jacket and produced a cell phone and a pre-paid credit card. "These are yours. The kitchen and pantry are fully stocked, but when they run out, use the card to have food and necessities delivered here. Don't let the delivery person in –haul everything in yourself. You can also use the card to buy whatever items you need that you forgot or have stored away. The card will be reloaded the first and fifteenth of every month.

"All three cell phones have direct dial numbers to me, Phil, and an associate of ours, Clint Barton. You call Phil or Barton only if you're in trouble; you call me if you need someone to talk to. Do not, under any circumstances, contact Adena unless there're no other options. We can't risk having her and Rogers rush here on a whim -they're busy doing other things."

Not being a complete idiot, Anna had a feeling that 'other things' included looking for Bucky. She knew that there was no way Steve Rogers was going to let his long-thought-dead best friend drift around, alone in the world. While it made sense that Barnes needed a support system, Anna knew that system ought to include Steve Rogers.

"Barnes will be here in a few days," Natasha said, surprising her. "Get comfortable, plan things out, and prepare yourself. There's a fully loaded laptop computer on the desk in your room that activates with a fingerprint scan, for security purposes. There's more generic computer for Barnes in his quarters, which are on the other side of the house, as far away as possible from yours. You can familiarize yourself with the information we've provided you. Also, learn the ways in and out of the house, and don't let Barnes know about the secret escape from your room. Understand?"

At Anna's nod, Natasha turned and left her alone, her mind spinning at whether or not it had been a good idea to accept this job after all.

That had all been several days ago, and so far, she hadn't even met the man she was supposed to be helping, Bucky Barnes.

The waiting was starting to grate on her nerves, as she wasn't sure if she could handle the whole situation she'd gotten herself into. Part of her screamed to just forget the whole thing and go back home, but how could she do that? She had no money –she hadn't even started working yet, so she hadn't been paid anything. And how was she supposed to move her belongings back, with no money for a truck?

Well, technically, she could use the credit card she'd been given, but she didn't feel comfortable using money she hadn't rightfully earned. Plus, what if Coulson found out, and hauled her in for stealing from SHIELD? She might end up disappearing into some sort of secret government prison, never to see the outside world again.

There was, unfortunately, no choice but to stay.

Once she'd resigned herself to staying, Anna had decided to unpack, getting to work on opening her boxes and intent on decorating her new bedroom, at the very least. The beige walls in her own private sanctuary now had colorful drapes of fabric; her desk and tables had carvings her uncle had made for her that were painted bright colors; and all sorts of drawings painted by her mother and grandmother littered the walls.

'It pays to have artists in the family,' she thought with a smile as she brewed a cup of tea.

There were also splashes of color that she had tossed around the other rooms of the house. In the living room, a painting from another uncle hung on the wall above the fireplace; on various tables or shelves were colorfully painted wood carvings from numerous craft fairs she'd attended. Some small, inexpensive glass vases lined the mantle, catching the sunlight and sending off patches of color around the room.

The dining room had a vibrant square of red cloth on the moderately sized, rectangular dining table, and on the small side cabinet, she had placed a bright green square bit of cloth. In the center of the side table, she placed a light purple vase that she had picked up at a flea market for cheap. The vase stood empty, but it was still a nice touch. The cloths and vase enhanced the dark woods the furniture pieces were crafted out of.

On the opposite side of the house, under the stairway to the second floor, was a small study. Here, the walls were simply empty and white, so Anna had decided to hang a few pictures of the sea or of water splashing on the shores of the Great Lakes. She also hung a few yards of blue fabric (leftover from an aunt's failed attempt to make her own skirts) over the walls and windows, making the room calm and soothing. There was a set of bookshelves, a desk and a chair, but all stood empty. Rather than use the space, Anna decided to keep her own book collection and computer in her room, just in case.

'If Bucky decides he wants to use the study, that's fine with me.' Maybe the blue would help him calm down if he was close to losing his temper.

There was an entertainment room with a TV, complete with theater system, but Anna left that space alone. It was furnished with a brown leather couch, a recliner, and a wood coffee table with a pretty wooden bowl in the middle –it was simple, but elegant, which was all it really needed.

She'd also done a bit of extra reading into a few other files on the laptop provided to her. The house was specially designed so that no one could hear what was going on inside, and those inside would be isolated from the noise and disturbances happening around them. It was like living inside of a bubble, or some kind of science experiment –or worse, some kind of twisted reality show.

'It also makes it difficult to scream for help if an assassin is trying to kill me,' Anna sarcastically told herself.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door, startling her. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, except for one…

Swallowing hard, Anna left her tea on the counter and headed for the door, stopping herself before she turned the lock. This was it: a moment of truth. If she failed, she'd probably be dead. But if she succeeded, who knew what that would mean for her future?

Peeking through the peephole, Anna saw a man in his mid- or late-twenties, his hair pulled back in a rough ponytail tucked under a baseball cap. In spite of the rough patch of stubble on his face, she recognized him from past photos her grandmother had shown her, as well as the images on her computer.

The man outside was Bucky Barnes, and he looked as uneasy as she felt.

Part of her said to keep the door shut, but she knew that he had to have a key to get in. He was probably knocking out of pure courtesy, so that he didn't scare her. It was a nice gesture, and she was going to have to reciprocate.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

AN: Review?