Note: So…I apologize in advance for the violence! I actually didn't think I'd have violence in this story…but it went where it had to! Sorry if this chapter was a little shorter than my previous ones—but it's a bit heavy so I decided to cut it short. OH, and I'm sorry if the ending is a little confusing and makes you go, "Wait, what?" Don't worry, it will all be explained in the next chapter! Thank you to everyone who's reading and I'd love to see more reviews! They absolutely make my day!

The Winter Soldier drifted.

Once upon a time, he had only had one steel cable that connected him to reality. Once upon a time he'd been a man without a name or a face or a past—an enigma, a dangerous parcel, a weapon. He had had no connections to anyone or anything and the only thing that connected him to reality had been the steel cable that wrapped around his neck like a noose and bound him permanently to HYDRA. They were all he knew and they were all he had. He was linked to them and they owned him. One misstep and the cable around his neck would tighten and he would be reset back to zero. No matter how far he went, he was always tethered to HYDRA. No matter how far he went, it was never far enough, because they always had full control over him.

When HYDRA had broken down and he'd made his bewildered and angry escape, he'd only been half a free man. The cable that bound him to HYDRA had thinned, fraying in the middle, allowing him to run beyond their grasps for the first time in his life—but the cable was still there. For every five steps he took forward, the cable jerked him a step back. His memories, his illness, his confusion, his anger…all of them helped him stay connected. He was a man possessed and a man obsessed. He wanted nothing more than to get away from HYDRA, but he wanted nothing more than to go back to them and find—what? Answers? The questions and obsession had eaten away at his insides as he had stumbled through the woods, burning his mind and leaving a brand upon his mind. He felt as if HYDRA's logo was forever burned into his eyes and tongue. The steel cable was still there.

And then he had met Ari and everything had changed. He'd been reluctant, suspicious, at first…but she had slowly won him over. He had fought bitterly against the admittance of the fact, but he eventually admitted it: she was a good friend, a friend he never thought he'd have. Her presence weakened the steel cable even more. The steel cable wasn't gone but it was thinner now, weaker. If it had snapped, the Winter Soldier might have been lost forever. But he formed different bonds. More delicate ones, light, ones that didn't wrap around his neck and choke him. Gentle bonds that tied him to Ari. When he met Steve, he formed another bond. Even meeting Natasha and Sam…he formed more bonds. He had connections tying him to reality. People to care for. People who cared for him, no matter how undeserving he was of their care.

But that all changed in the next few hours. The Winter Soldier felt all his connections to reality snapping as if someone had snipped them with a pair of scissors and he drifted. It was as if only half of him was there. He could see, could hear, could feel Ari's pain. The punches. The kicks. The cuts with the switchblade. The man beating her did it slowly, enjoying the game. Ari, for her part…Ari displayed strength that the Winter Soldier had never dreamed she could possess. She never spoke except to spit at the guard—and to scream. The Winter Soldier's ears and spine prickled and he wanted to vomit, except he couldn't move. His heart was pounding frantically and he wanted so badly to scream, to yell, to throw himself against the glass and go crashing through and pound the man's face until his bones were splinters and brain matter seeped across the floor among bits of broken skull and blood…

But he couldn't move.

His head felt like it was being smashed at with white-hot hammers and his stomach roiled and burned as if someone had force-fed him battery acid. He sat there limply, alternating between opening his eyes to see Ari get hit again and again and again and again—

Or closing his eyes and drifting. When he drifted, he could almost not feel or see or hear. Her sounds of pain dulled to a hollow, aching throb, as if she were being tortured underwater, somewhere far away from him… He floated through the darkness, hoping against hope when he opened his mouth he would see nothing but darkness and that when he opened his mouth it would be packed with dirt and he would realize that he had died a long time ago and been buried and left to rot, forgotten and alone. He hoped he would open his eyes and see darkness and pale purple and slippery, bloated skin floating off his bones, that he had fallen out of the helicarrier and drowned in the Potomac River…

"I'm with you till the…" The what? Who was with him? Till the end of what? The Winter Soldier felt himself slipping away. He opened his eyes slowly, as if moving underwater, and felt himself retreat further inside himself. Pain. He could not feel this pain. He could not take this pain. Bucky Barnes could have— No. Bucky? Who was Bucky? Bucky was a man who felt. He was the Winter Soldier. He was ice. This didn't bother him. This didn't bother him at all. He stared dully through the glass where—how long had it been? Hours—Ari lay on the ground, stirring slightly, and the man stepped in a circle around her and the Winter Soldier tried to convince himself that he was ice, he felt nothing, he was nothing. But he couldn't stop the feeling of low, burning rage and fear and pain and he couldn't help but taste the coppery phantom blood on his tongue that he so badly wanted to reveal. Pull out a nice—no use his bare hands—and bury his hand into the man's neck, ripping out his trachea and jugular vein, soft and leaking red blood… Rip him apart like he was a toy filled with stuffing. Expose his stuffing. Paint the walls red with his insides.

But all he could do was drift. His strength was coming back, very slowly. He could stir slightly now, move ever so slightly. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't even close to enough.

Ari was on the ground, still. Was she dead? The Winter Soldier numbly stared at her, unable to make himself contemplate the idea. The man knelt by her and took out a switchblade, leaning over her exposed right forearm—and no, she was still alive, because now she was thrashing slightly, a piteous keening, wailing sound escaping her mouth. She had screamed herself hoarse and now all she could do was let out a thin sound of pain, like a dying kitten. It was as if she had lost the energy to scream. The man held her down and continued to cut into her arm while she feebly fought against him. Then he crawled over to her other side and bent over her left exposed forearm, cutting into her arm there as well. The Winter Soldier could see thin trickles of red blood leaking down her arm. Blood. There was blood in that room, he could see blood on the floor, blood on her face, blood on her clothes.

And then the man stood up, sweating, and smiling. He looked pleased. The Winter Soldier stared at him and thought to himself that he would take his knife one day and carve a permanent smile on the man's face, ear to ear. He would grin for forever. The man said something into a black walkie-talkie and then walked out of the room, leaving Ari laying on the floor, unmoving.

"Did you enjoy that, Soldier?" came a voice from a loudspeaker in the Winter Soldier's room. There was a pause, and then—"Oh, dear me, I'm so sorry. I just remembered. You can't speak!" A sickening little laugh. "Well, anyway…I hope that little—er—display was enough to convince you to behave. I'll leave you for a few hours to regain your strength, the serum should be wearing off soon… And then we'll chat again, shall we? Perhaps this time you'll be more accommodating." Another pause, and then, "Oh, and you will of course be reunited with your friend. Tough little thing, isn't she? I've seen grown men pass out more quickly than she did. Never let it be said that HYDRA is not merciful." The speaker crackled and then went silent.

The Winter Soldier watched, stirring ever so slightly, as a different man walked into Ari's room, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, and then came next door, kicking the door open and laying Ari on the floor. He slammed the door shut behind him and the Winter Soldier heard a lock click behind the man. He stared at Ari from the bench, trying—and failing—to will his muscles to move, move, move. Ari was pale and her eyes were closed; she wasn't conscious. She was too far for the Winter Soldier to quite see the extent of her injuries, but he could see that her face and arms were bruised and bloody, her hair matted and messed up, her breathing shallow. She wasn't in a good place at all.

He tried to inch himself forward and managed to move enough to…completely fall off his bench and smash face first into the floor. He winced in pain but couldn't move enough to get up or turn his head. Wonderful. He supposed he should just be grateful he fell with his face on his side instead of nose-first into the ground. Then he would have been laying facedown suffocating in a pool of his own blood. His head was turned so that he could see the top of Ari's head and he stared at her tangled dark brown hair, willing her to move—wake—show some sign that she was still alive. Because if she wasn't… Then not only would the world have lost someone very important, but he would carry that for the rest of his life. He was a menace. He couldn't be around normal society, even when he wasn't working for HYDRA. Everything he touched turned to ashes. Look at what he had done to Ari. He should have insisted on leaving her home. Why had he brought a civilian here?

His own selfish desires. She was a safe anchor for him, something to calm him when the storm overtook his mind. And he was terrified he might lose it if she wasn't around to look him in the eye and firmly say, "Breathe. You can get through this. What memory was it this time?"

Follow her advice, Bucky. Breathe. The thought rang in his head before he could even comprehend what he was thinking. And then he realized. He'd called himself Bucky. He was Bucky. Was he?

What would James Buchanan Barnes have done in this situation?

Nothing. He would never have gotten himself into this situation, he thought blindly. He was a hero. I'm no hero.

He wasn't a hero. But he was a good villain. And when he regained use of his body, he would show HYDRA exactly why he was such a good villain. The dog would turn on its masters and the masters would not live to regret their actions.

As the minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, he felt the use of his muscles and strength slowly returning. First it was slight—just slight movements of his fingers, twitching and moving them. Then his arms and legs, moving them slightly and then more and more. Two hours had passed at this point. Even though it was painful and frustrating to only be able to move his body slightly, he kept trying. Another hour passed and now he could move every body part, albeit very slowly, as if he were a sore old man. He slowly pushed himself up, his arm muscles trembling a little bit with the effort, a bit of spit leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He moved into a sitting position and slumped against the bench, wiping his mouth, sweating. He sat there for a half hour, regaining his strength and use of his limbs, and then when he felt like he could sufficiently move, he crawled over to Ari.

He knelt near her body and looked at the ceiling for a moment. He was afraid of looking down, afraid of what he would see. What if he no longer saw a pulse? What if he no longer saw the rise and fall of her chest? What would he do? Ari would want him to be Bucky Barnes and take the heroic high road. But the Winter Soldier had a strong feeling he wouldn't be that gracious.

He slowly looked down and was relieved to see Ari breathing and a pulse going normally in her neck that he bent over and closed his eyes. Her face was bruised and she had a black eye. A split lip. Countless cuts on her cheek and arms and collarbone area. Her feet. Every part of her was beginning to bruise—they would be hideously purple tomorrow (if they lived until tomorrow)—but for now she just looked battered and bloody. He inspected her more carefully, not willing to touch her, and realized that the blood made the wounds look far worse than they were. Not that her wounds were light; they weren't. She'd gone through an epic beating. But he was confident she would live.

He looked down at her forearm—and froze. Crudely carved into her forearm were five words: THE WINTER SOLDIER SALUTES YOU. His mouth went dry as ash and his stomach began churning, the pounding in his head increasing suddenly. He slowly looked at her other arm and saw, with a sickening jolt, that the same words had been carved into her other arm. Shallow enough that they hadn't hit bone but deep enough that they would leave scars forever.

Ari would always have his name carved into her arms. He had tainted her. He couldn't help himself—he let out a low groan and lurched desperately into the corner, bending over and vomiting. He didn't know whether the nausea was from the serum or from what he had just seen, but he bent over, retching. He didn't have much in his stomach, so only pinkish-clear spit and foam and bile came out, his eyes watering with the effort to heave. He kept coughing and heaving, feeling as he might vomit up his insides. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming at the top of his lungs and salty, copper-and-rust tasting blood mixed in with the bile in his mouth, making him gag and retch even more. The whole ordeal took so much effort that he eventually collapsed, his eyes burning and mouth slick with spit and bile, whole body shaking with anger and terror and the effort it had taken to dry-heave. He closed his eyes and…

He was standing at the foot of someone's bed, his arms crossed, staring down at Steve, who was laying back in bed, looking pale and weak—although he still had his usual dopey smile on his face. That smile infuriated him and he snapped, "Stop grinning like an idiot. What were you thinking, going out to do errands in the rain? Are you TRYING to die on me?"

"It's just a cold, Buck," said Steve, coughing. His face was deathly pale but his cheeks were bright pink, his eyes glittering with fever.

"Cold my ass!" he replied, exasperated. "You—you absolute idiot—"

Steve shrugged. "I had to make money," he said.

His anger rose. "You— I can help you out with money, you know that! Stop doing stupid things like this, okay?" Steve's mother had died a few months ago and now Steve was all alone. He worried about him constantly and was forever dragging him over to his house so his mother could feed Steve and try to convince him to live with them. But Steve would cheerfully refuse, preferring to say, "I'm going to make my own way." Whatever the hell that meant. And he was afraid Steve would get himself killed in the process. And, if he was being honest, who would care if the skinny little boy from Brooklyn disappeared? Bucky was all he had and he didn't understand why Steve wasn't relying on him. Wasn't he his best friend?

"Fine, then I'm going to watch over you," he said briskly, stomping over to Steve's childhood rocking chair (peeling yellow paint crackled against his back as he slammed himself down into the seat). "Don't even try to make me go away."

"I won't," coughed Steve, "because I'd do the same for you. But you never get sick…"

The Winter Soldier felt sick now. He lay there, eyes closes, on the cold ground. His head was throbbing and his stomach felt empty and burned out and he felt stiff and sore. But he had to be strong, for Steve's sake. For Ari's sake. Even for Natasha and Sam's sake. He didn't know what had happened to the other three, but everyone was in danger—and they had all done it for them. The least he could do for them was to set aside his illness and kill everyone in HYDRA as revenge.

"Good," came a faint voice near him and his eyes snapped open. "You're awake."

He sat up and inched himself over to Ari, who was also sitting up and looked extremely worse for the wear. He hesitated as he took in her terrible appearance. He wanted to say something, but it was like someone had ripped his tongue out. He was silent and merely looked at her.

She coughed and then looked at him, He was shocked for a moment to see her glaring at him but then he figured he deserved it. However, when she spoke, he was surprised again. "Soldier," she began, wincing as she spoke, trying to slowly comb down her hair. "If you try to blame yourself for this…I swear to god, by all the powers vested in me, I will utilize every last bit of medical knowledge I have to surgically cut you open, rip out your guts, and strangle you with them."

Well then. The Winter Soldier blinked for a second and then he glared at her. "You're the most foolish person I've ever met," he snarled. "Do you think your selflessness will save your life? It won't! It'll get you killed!"

"Then let me worry about my own life," she snapped, leaning forward as if to jab her finger into his chest. "You worry about your life! I can hold my own, Soldier."

"I can hold my own, too," he shot back.

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Then let's hold our own together. We know we can handle this."

The Winter Soldier bit back a furious retort, itching to say that she was a too good for her own good, but he grudgingly said, "Fine." He was surrounded by people filled to the brim with goodness and martyrdom and he realized he was going to have to roll with it. They were inherently good just as he was inherently bad, and if they accepted his horrible flaws, he'd have to accept their flaws (for that's what they were, in his mind) as well. The flaw of being too good, too heroic. But that was who Ari and Steve were.

"Not so selfless," Ari added, seeing and accurately guessing what his brooding expression meant. "Do you know what I want to do?"

"What?"

"I want to go out there—and skin that man alive," she whispered, her voice trembling with hate and anger. "And I want to leave him hanging from the ceiling to die."

"I can make that happen," said the Winter Soldier grimly

"Good. I look forward to it." Ari leaned over and then winced, laying back with a gasp as fresh blood trickled from a cut in her side. He started forward in alarm, hovering over her and completely unsure of what to do, but Ari waved him away, saying, "There's nothing you can do."

He leaned back against the bench, clenching and unclenching his cybernetic hand and feeling the fury build in his body, his eyes closed. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth. Ari was a good person. He wasn't a good person, he never would be—but what he could be was strong. He was a fighter, a villain, and he would stay strong till the end of this story. Ari had been strong for him. Ari had taken the beating, had taken the torture in his place. She had screamed for hours while he had drifted, untethered to anything in reality, and even when her screams had subsided into high-pitched keening wails and whimpers, the way an animal would do right before death, he had still drifted and allowed her to take his beating. He should never have done that. Ari was a civilian. He was…the Winter Soldier. He was a soldier. He was born for this. He had been tortured before. Alexander Pierce would tilt his chin up, look him in the eye, and coldly say, "He needs another dose, I think," and then they would drag him to that infernal chair—

No. It wouldn't do to think about that place. The fact remained that Ari had been strong for him. Even before she'd been tortured, she'd been strong since she met him. Her will was that of iron and he had found that even he, the most dangerous person he knew, could not bend it. Nothing on this planet could make Ari sway or could intimidate her. He still remembered grabbing her arm, twisting, and demanding, "Tell me," in the parking lot of the hospital…and he remembered her turning her powerful blue eyes on him and slowly telling him he would not treat her this way. He remembered letting go of her arm as if he'd been burned, feeling like she had slapped him across the face, his cheeks burning with anger and shame. She had yanked him back to reality every time he had started to drift, had demanded his attention with her calm voice and generous nature.

And he had drifted while she screamed. He wouldn't do that again.

Suddenly the lock clicked loudly and the door opened. Before the Winter Soldier could even get to his feet, a guard had tossed in a bright blue bag that hit the floor with a thud and slammed the door shut again. The lock clicked shut and just like that, they were alone again.

"That's a first aid bag," said Ari, her voice a little faint and wheezy, staring at the blue cross on the bag. "Soldier…you need to help me dress my wounds. Come over here." The Winter Soldier inched over to her and they spent the next hour slowly dressing her wounds. She instructed him on what to do, wincing and groaning the whole time and letting out small shrieks of pain through gritted teeth when he applied alcohol to her cuts and scrapes to disinfect them. When he was done, he sat back and surveyed his work. She was covered in bandages and she still had dried blood on her even though they'd tried to wipe it off best that they could. Her face was starting to bruise in several places and she had a black eye. Her face and arms were covered in small cuts and the Winter Soldier had wrapped her arms in more cloth than was necessary because seeing the words THE WINTER SOLDIER SALUTES YOU carved into them made him sick.

"I feel like a semi-truck ran me over," she groaned, trying to stretch and wincing in pain the whole time. "Two thousand times."

"You look like it, too," he offered.

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him, shock bordering on amusement. "You…you seriously don't know how to talk to women, do you?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"What?" he demanded. "You look terrible."

"I know, but word to the wise, Soldier?" She smiled and the movement seemed painful since it split open her lip again and she winced, beads of blood appearing. "Never tell a woman she looks bad. Even if she was just tortured."

The Winter Soldier silently handed her a cotton swab to dab away the blood and privately thought to himself that women were absolutely mental creatures that he would never understand.

Ari slowly scooted over and sat next to him, leaning her head on the bench like he was. They both listlessly stared at the glass in front of them, dried streaks of Ari's blood marring it. They were silent for a long time and then the Winter Soldier quietly said, "You have a high pain tolerance," while staring at the glass. It wasn't a question, just an observation. Ari had held out for almost all of the beating she'd received, fainting only at the end, and she was behaving relatively normal right now for someone who should have been curled up and crying from the pain.

"I used to play a lot of sports as a kid," replied Ari, still staring at the glass too. "And I've been in a few car accidents."

The Winter Soldier slew his eyes at Ari and noticed she was absentmindedly tapping her thigh and chewing her lip, making it bleed again. She didn't even seem to notice and he sighed, handing her another cotton swab. Then he folded his arms, feeling his full strength returning slowly, and said, "Let's try the truth this time." He knew Ari well enough by this point to recognize her lying tics. Biting her lip was one of them.

She looked at him, trying to act innocent for a moment—but when she saw he wasn't fooled, her face fell and she returned to staring at the glass. After a moment— "Alex used to…sometimes beat me up too." She sighed and rubbed her nose, which had a cut on it, and let out a hiss of pain under her breath. "There. Now you know how lame I am."

"Is there anything your brother didn't do?" the Winter Soldier asked pleasantly, his voice simmering with anger underneath. "Besides making you and your parents' lives miserable, beating you up, breaking the law, stealing your best friend, and killing your parents?"

Ari thought for a moment. "He hasn't robbed anyone yet."

"Reassuring," the Winter Soldier muttered under his breath.

"So what's the plan?" she murmured to him.

"Break out of here," he said.

"Shhh!" she said, eyes darting to the ceiling of the room, scanning all corners even though her normal eyesight would never catch the tiny red gleam of a camera. "They're probably watching us right now!"

"They're probably not," he murmured. "You don't know HYDRA like I do. This facility seems high-tech…but it's nothing compared to the ones I…" His jaw tensed. "…lived in." There was an awkward pause because both of them knew that whatever the Winter Soldier had been doing at the HYDRA headquarters, it certainly couldn't have been qualified as "living." He barreled on, trying to make the dark moment go away. "I'm sure they have cameras watching us but they seem short-staffed. I doubt they have someone watching us 24/7 and listening to us. They're too confident we won't escape."

"But we will, right?" Ari asked anxiously. "Because I kind of really don't want to die here. I still have a lot of things on my bucket list."

The Winter Soldier frowned, confused. "On your what list?"

"A list of things to do before you die," she explained. "Like…Like travel around Asia. Or sky-dive. Or make a wish at the Trevi Fountain."

"Why is it called a bucket list?"

"Oh—because of the phrase. You know? To die is to 'kick the bucket'. So…" Ari shook her head. "Wait—why are we talking about this? We were talking about how to get out of here."

"Let me think about it," said the Winter Soldier absentmindedly, scanning the room. He got to his feet and walked around the room. His gait was a bit off (as he was sure Ari's sharp eyes had caught, considering the way she was giving him a hard glance) but he could feel his normal agility return even more quickly as the last effects of the serum wore off him. He'd thought that torturing him—or even wiping his memories—was the worst thing HYDRA could have done to him. He was now uncomfortably aware that he had been wrong. He had a prickly feeling under his arms because he was sweating slightly and he turned his back on Ari to avoid looking at her injuries because they filled him with an incredible amount of guilt and confusion. This was being human, wasn't it? Caring about the welfare of others. Well…it was more exhausting than people like Ari and Steve made it seem. Ari had taken care of him like it was nothing, but after seeing Ari tortured…the Winter Soldier was torn between wanting to fiercely protect her and also sprinting for the hills to never come in contact with humans or human emotions ever again. Human emotions hurt. Were they really worth it?

He ran his fingers over the walls and the glass, pressing lightly and peering at every crack and corner closely to see if there were any ways out when suddenly Ari spoke from the ground: "Who's Connie?"

He stiffened at the name—

He turned his head and saw the girl walking past the diner, smiling and chatting with her friends. Petite with a round face, dimpled cheeks, and short dark hair, she was one of the cutest girls he'd ever seen. Her name was Connie, he'd asked the owner of the diner that, and he wanted to take her out.

Connie pushed into the diner, a pack of her giggling friends following her, and as she walked past the bar stool where he sat, he abruptly stood up—and surreptitiously spilled his cream soda all over her navy dress. She leaped back with a gasp and he feigned a look of horror and shock on his face as well.

"Oh god!" he said, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing the waist of her dress. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you at all."

"It's—it's fine," she said, clearly flustered. She took the napkins from him and dabbed at her dress, looking down at it mournfully. It had been made of old material ("We musn't be frivolous during these times, Connie," her mother had said, "but here, this is what we'll do—we'll take an old dress of yours and rework it in a current fashion! Won't it be just darling?" And indeed, it had been just darling) but it was a new dress. Or…it had been.

She looked up at him for the first time—and froze when she realized he was incredibly handsome and he was smiling at her. "What?" she said loudly, making her friends whisper and giggle. Her mother had always told her that young ladies were supposed to be quiet and gentle, but Connie was naturally excitable.

"Say, why don't you let me take you out to make up for this?" he asked, smiling down at her. "My name is Bucky Barnes."

"Connie Capone," she replied, though he had already known that.

"Nice to meet you, Connie Capone," he said. "I'll meet you here Friday night at 7 and then we'll go somewhere fun."

Connie folded her arms and tried to give him a glare even though the corners of her mouth were twitching and he could see that he had won her over. "And why would I go out with you? I hardly know you!"

"Because you haven't said no yet." He winked at her and then left, strolling out the door whistling some happy tune, partly because he knew she was watching him go and partly because he was pleased. That Connie sure was a cute little thing.

The Winter Soldier was used to the throbbing ache and slight twisting of his stomach at his memories and he didn't even acknowledge them this time. He also managed to black out, which was a step forward. The whole thing had only taken a few seconds and he slowly turned around and asked, "How do you know who Connie is?"

"You murmured her name when you were passed out," said Ari curiously. "Along with the name Gabe…but that was the name of one of the members of the Howling Commandos, wasn't it? I remember from the Smithsonian exhibit."

"Connie was…" He rubbed his unshaven chin, stubbly chin self-consciously. "She was some girl I liked. I took her out a few times."

Ari smiled. "Good to know that you knew how to act around the ladies at one point, at least. What did she look like?"

The Winter Soldier took a look at Ari and said, "Sort of like you," in surprise. He couldn't see how he hadn't noticed it before. Ari did resemble Connie…slightly. Not completely. "Sort of," he added. "Her face was rounder. Your hair is darker and longer and straight. And your eyes are blue. But you sort of remind me of her." He vaguely wondered what had happened to that Connie Capone. Had she mourned him when he hadn't returned from war? Had she met a new man and married and lived and died? Had she died early on? He made a mental note to do a little digging on her if he survived this ordeal.

"I'm flattered," grinned Ari. Then she winced and touched her lip. "I need to stop doing that." She looked around the room. "So, any way out?"

"Still checking." The Winter Soldier made his way around the room, inspecting every corner. The further he got, the more confused he got. This couldn't possibly be right… HYDRA wouldn't be this stupid…could they? He began to check more quickly, tapping on the walls and listening to them, eyes scanning every last inch of the walls and floor. Finally he got to the door and rapped lightly on the glass and peered out of it, seeing no one in the hallway, which was dim except for one light that glowed softly down the hall and a red light blinking at the shadowy end of the hallway.

And then he turned around and snickered to himself. He couldn't help it.

"Soldier!" said Ari, looking shocked. "Are you laughing? I thought—okay, well, for one thing, I thought maybe you couldn't do that…but for another, why would you be laughing now?"

"Because," he said, "I know exactly how to get out of here." HYDRA was this stupid, apparently, and they had banked on his fear of them and knowledge of how they worked too much, it seemed…because now it was backfiring horribly on them. He couldn't believe the solution was this simple, but it was. "Get up."

Ari clambered to her feet, wincing along the way and then stood by him, peering out the glass as well. "I don't see how—"

He nudged her aside and then said, "Watch me." Then he pulled back his cybernetic arm and smashed it through the glass so forcefully that the door frame shuddered and shards of glass flew everywhere. An alarm immediately began screaming but he ignored it and reached his cybernetic arm through the broken window, grasping the doorknob—

"We don't know how to unlock it," started Ari.

—and ripped it clear off the door, splintering a huge hole in the door. He kicked the door so hard that it flew off its hinges and hit the opposite wall and grabbed Ari's arm. They could hear shouts in the distance and the Winter Soldier urgently said, "Run," and they both took off down the hall.