Bellamy figured it out—a plan, at least. A week turned into two, and still, she was searching with no luck. There was nothing left to read, only words and pictures of the Winter Soldier to stare at. Files and words couldn't give her what she needed, therefore, she needed to go to the source. But that hunt would prove to be even harder.

She drove back to Washington D.C., deciding to start there. No better term could describe the Winter Soldier than a ghost, as he was known throughout the intelligence community; every time anyone ever tried to find the Winter Solider, the trail ran cold. He disappeared into oblivion, causing the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. over 50 years of mental manipulation, of doubt of his existence with the deception he played. Except, she wasn't looking for the Winter Solider, she was fairly certain of that. He was set free from the hands of his oppressor. HYDRA was no longer in control of him. No, her mission was to find James Buchanan Barnes before anyone else did.

How does one find and follow the trail of a ghost? It was a misconception of the public who were informed of Barnes—only knowing him as the deranged, unstable, and highly dangerous Winter Soldier who had nearly taken out Captain America—that he only wandered about at night, creeping in the shadows like a fabled boogieman. None of them knew most would encounter him in their everyday life at some point and never even realize it. She did.

She had gotten close to him a total of three times. Once, in Chinatown, a place that never grew weary and therefore stayed populated and busy. Hiding in plain-sight seemed to be his specialty, and she saw him in a trucker cap with a jacket and a backpack, browsing a newspaper stand on an intense search. As she made her way towards him, he looked up once, a brief second, and they locked eyes. A taxi passed, and she began running, but he was gone in less than five seconds, newspaper abandoned on the ground with the headline SEARCH FOR WINTER SOLDIER CONTINUES.

The second time told her it wasn't just a one way trace. She'd been up all night, and was staring out the windowed doors that led to the balcony in the hotel room she was staying, when movement had caught her eye. Maybe this second time hadn't really happened; she'd pulled a gun and bolted to the ground, hiding and moving between the bed to the wall to look out the door, but suddenly the shadowy figure she'd sworn she'd seen earlier from the building across from hers was gone. Never would she know if she was too sleep-deprived for her own good, or if it was just another working of the ghost, but she almost didn't want the latter to be true; being haunted seemed a better position than hunted.

The third was most definitely real, and occurred at the Smithsonian. His eyes were glued to the small display dedicated to him, describing his death and his loyalty to his country, along with best friend, Captain Steve Rogers. He wore the same clothes as before, his metal shoved in his pocket. No one gave him a second look.

Bellamy stood, a few feet away, trying to figure out if he remembered any of his past, if he even remembered that he was the man in the display and not some solider to HYDRA. Standing for too long, too long to escape his gaze as he suddenly turned, paranoia in his eyes, and rightfully so at the sight of her—his own ghost.

She hissed in frustration as he ran, unable to call out to him and risk attention from the crowd. They gave her dirty looks as she pushed through children and adults alike there to see and learn more about Captain America. When she finally broke free of the crowd, she had lost him. Always, she always lost him.

Bellamy worried he was planning on fleeing the state, perhaps the country completely, soon. She was running out of opportunity, of places to search, but she had two reasons to go back to the sickening bank: checking for any clues or maybe finding him there.

As soon as she walked back in, her eyes went to one of the areas enclosed with bars, like that of a jail cell, where she'd once been stored. After Fury was thought to have been dead, Steve took her on the run with him. Despite her being, technically, the one in the charge, he knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised before she did. She had no idea who to trust, besides Steve. But when she was captured, their missions splintered into separate ones; Steve to save the day and her to stay alive.

It was almost impossible to be in there and not hear Bucky's screaming. It was a turning point for her, seeing everything unfold before her eyes. Her brother's murderer, actually turning out to be a victimized weapon, proving he had no choice as they wiped the memories from his head. She remembered her stomach turning as Alexander Pierce stopped before her, wearing a pleasant smirk to the sound of screaming, as though it were a pleasant symphony.

"Ready for your appointment?" He asked her as the bars parted and he stepped inside the area with her. "Director Burke, it's truly a pleasure." He addressed her with a gleeful mocking tone that caused her to glare; she never did like his wit. "Well, you tried." He said as he threw his hands in the air before grinning even wider. "I'm glad you didn't succeed—you know, you could've if you wanted to. Nonetheless, I'm glad you didn't. For more reasons than one."

"Please, enlighten me." She said, wishing she could lengthen the distance between them.

"You know, despite what anyone said about your lack of field work, the position was well-suited for you. Did you know that I recommended you to Nick? That might come as a shock to you. You proved to me we value the same exact things in society; order and peace. Your approval of Project Insight was the last piece I needed to know that you were worthy." It was hard to keep her mouth shut. "I can forgive that you ran with Captain America. Naïve mistake, but you didn't really know, and I just can't let go of the fact that I can see so much potential in you. You alone inspire so much fear from many of the agents, it's incredible, just like how you're looking at me right now—do you even try?" She only blinked at him.

"If looks could kill." Bellamy didn't know or care if he could hear her mumble. If he did, he didn't care.

"Rumlow was telling me you demand every agent address you professionally with respect, and I like that, Director Burke." He slid a slow devilish smirk on his lips, likely reveling in the look of animosity that flashed in her eyes.

"Project Insight isn't what you promised it was."

"Of course not, didn't Nick keep secrets from you too? Why is it only bad when I do it?" He raised his hands as though were having a casual friendly discussion. "See, people like Nick wouldn't understand like you and I do. And over the years, people had to be exterminated so it could continue on smoothly. People like Howard Stark. Scott Burke and his son, Bronson Burke. You know, Rumlow took your brother's place quite well, he's flexible like you." He had the beginning of a smirk on his face again, and she knew that meant she was growing visibly angry. Her teeth bit into the inside of her cheeks, hard, to keep her from speaking. "Wow, you're good. That would've had most people throwing punches, and that's what makes you so dangerous, sweetheart. How much do you hold in? Are you ever gonna give yourself a chance to explode?"

"Go to hell." She spat. He moved back to the bars and it slid open with ease by the guards. He paused there, staring at her, smiling.

"Don't worry, you won't ever need to face those questions. See, there's no possible way for me to know if I can trust you; sparing your life up until this point was more of just me having a hard time letting things go. It's gotta be done, though. Shame, really." He sighed and slid the bars back shut himself, shrugging lightly. "At least it'll be poetic…being buried beside your dead family after being exterminated by their killer."

Her hands were gripping the bars of the cell, this time on the outside of it staring in as she was brought back to the present. Yet, she could still feel the same burning in her chest that she'd felt that day. As her anger subsided, she felt eyes on her back and whirled around, gasping as she found him there. Quickly, she caught her breath, staring back at him. He was dressed the same as he had been the day in the Smithsonian and stared at her with the same stone-faced expression of stillness he'd worn the day he'd been tasked to kill her, the only difference were his eyes, no longer trance-like but now alive, and wary. Her heart thudded and she swallowed, wondering after all this time…had she really been the one chasing him? You don't chase and find a ghost—it finds you.

"Are you here to kill me?" She forced out, feeling her hand on her gun but not pulling it. She couldn't see any visible weapons on the soldier, not that he needed any; he could make a weapon out of anything.

"I was supposed to." He finally spoke, eyes blinking in confusion and his head slightly tilting to the side.

"You didn't." She reminded him. Maybe it wasn't wise to remind him. He straightened his head, eyes hardening as he inspected her. "Why?"

"You weren't my mission anymore."

"You were—"

"Why have you been following me?" He demanded in a very controlled voice, cutting her off, stepping closer.

"Why are you following me?" She shot back as she took a step backwards, her back now touching the bars. They stared at each other defiantly, neither budging, before the sound of the main door opening and shutting interrupted them. Immediately, she pulled her gun and they both ran to shelter behind the wall, side by side. He glared at her as the stood silently. Soon, agents dressed in black came in, and she recognized them as a few of the same level 1 agents who had helped her clear the SHIELD headquarters. Relief washed over her, before a visibly important looking man came in behind them. Easily, she recognized him to be a high-ranking leader of HYDRA. Dread took over.

"Everything must be retrieved, nothing left behind! Clear the capacity! Pristine, pristin—" His hand flew to his throat as her first bullet struck his throat, the second hitting him in the heart. The Winter Soldier was already out of hiding, throwing agents left and right while she took out the rest, leaving them in the empty vault littered with bodies. She turned her gaze back to him as he stared at their bodies.

"There's more coming, and we can't take all of them." He finally looked over at her.

"I can."

"No, you can't. Okay, you can't let them capture you again, don't you understand that? I can get us out of here." He stared at her incredulously.

"I don't want your help."

"You need my help."

"No, I need what you have." He said, stepping closer with anger sparking in his eyes. She blinked at him.

"And what do I have?"

"Stop doing that. I've killed far more dangerous people than you." Her breath caught in her throat, not out of fear, but almost out of agreement. "You took my file from here, I want it."

"This vault is the farthest thing from being protected, anyone could have that file."

"I know you have it. I watched you take it." A cold chill ran down her spine, but she readjusted her verbal path quickly.

"And how do you know I still have it?"

"I told you to stop doing that." He said, his voice slightly vibrating, stepping even closer right in front of her. "I want my goddamn file."

"Maybe we can trade." She said, raising her gun. "You took not only my file from S.H.I.E.L.D., but my father's, and I want it." He stared at her with the same narrowed eyes.

"I didn't take it." She snorted, steadying her hands.

"Don't forget I'm the one holding the gun."

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Are you going to kill me?" He glared at her, which she returned. "Don't tempt me. I have more than one justifiable reason to." As he stared, his forehead began to furrow again, and he near resembled the way he looked in the vault after almost remembering Steve, right before HYDRA took his memory again.

"I don't have them." There was a loud thud from the ground above them, and instantly she ran, no longer caring if he she lost him again after finding him, but she felt metal fingers wrap around her neck and pull her back. She gasped, wondering if she'd gotten herself into a trap, if he was still HYDRA affiliated.

"Let me…go…" She struggled for air, gasping and clawing at the unmovable vice grip around her throat.

"Not until I get my file." She struggled in his grip, gasping as she flailed, trying to hit him in any way, staring feebly at her gun on the ground that was growing spotty. He was holding her hostage, metal arm wrapped underneath her chin and around her neck like a boa constrictor, and she watched, barely—fading in and out—as he shot a disc to the ceiling of the vault before her feet left the ground. There was a blast, but she didn't feel anything, and then there was nothing.

Dim light blanketed her surroundings when her eyes opened again, the first thing in her sight being a display of mannequins in a formation. Bellamy briefly wondered why she was in a department store until she noticed the mural of Captain America and the Howling Commandos behind the display. She was sitting with her back against something and she looked around, noticing Barnes sitting a few feet away from her. They were sitting underneath the same display, him frozen and her slumped.

All she did was flex her fingers, but Barnes still started and looked over at her with distant eyes. She blinked, feeling her head dully throbbing. Her hands touched her throat delicately, wondering if there was bruising as the prior events came back.

"Why are we here?" Around them, the Smithsonian was deserted, though it seemed still too dangerous, too public, and even too bright, for the Winter Solider to pick. Suddenly she understood, remembering the small memorial dedicated to the only fallen comrade in his division, Sergeant James Barnes, which happened to be located right where she was sitting. She looked above her head at the glossy wall of text and the somber black and white picture of Barnes.

"I gave you a bloody nose." He said as she pulled herself into a proper upright position. She wasn't sure if it was an apology or just a statement, and noticed the trail of dry blood not only on the front of her own shirt, but on the shoulder of his.

"That's not the only thing." She muttered, feeling pain as she struggled to swallow. "Why are we here?"

"I come here." It sounded like all she was going to get. She pulled herself into a proper upright position.

"What about HYDRA?"

"Taken care of." She stared.

"What about the guards here, did you kill them too? Need I remind you we're in Washington DC the state capital—"

"I don't do that anymore. I'm only trying to figure myself out now." He turned to her now, eyes narrowed. "That's why I need my file. There are still…patches. Things I don't remember at all." She watched him silently walk closer to his display, eyes scanning it.

"You're telling me you don't remember an ounce of it?" She asked him. His eyes flickered back and forth at the words.

"I would come here nearly every day and read this. I didn't believe it at first. It's like I'm reading about another person." She watched him, unmoving in front of the display.

"You said there were patches…things you remember and things you don't." She tried standing. "I only want to know one thing." He turned his head to the side, not facing her, but the ground.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"About what?" He raised his eyes to her threateningly and dismissive.

"Any of it."

"I just want one thing."

"So do I," he finally turned towards her. "And I know you have it."

"I think you should be more concerned about the fact that you have the FBI out on a massive manhunt for you." She realized, with a sinking feeling, it was going to be harder than she thought to get the information, but she couldn't let him slip away now.

"That's the least of my concerns."

"Yes, well, so far you've only had me looking for you. Not the nation's finest, certainly not HYDRA now, not all of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who are on the lookout…are you aware how many people are looking for you? And they're not going to stop, just so you know. I'm sure the Smithsonian will harbor you very nicely." He stared at her for a moment. "Where are you even staying? Here, is it really?"

"Nowhere."

"Then come with me." He frowned. "Listen, my apartment is the safest. You need to lay low for the next few days to get them off your trail. Trust me."

"I don't." He told her warily.

"Of course you don't, but…I do have what you want."